#I might not survive so please come to my funeral

[sh1nsoukoku]

I’m gonna have to watch aku die…

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Aftermath || LN4 {1}

Pairing: Lando Norris x widow!reader Summary: A year after losing your husband to an F1 crash, his teammate comes by and regrets never coming to check in on you. Warnings: 18+ only, grief and loss, depression, mentions of blood, alcohol WC: 2.2k

F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten || Eleven || Twelve || Thirteen || Epilogue

It doesn’t matter how long the night may seem, dawn will find a way to fight the darkness and break in a new day. Another day without him. 

365. It had been 365 days since he left this world for an eternity among the stars. Even now, a year later, you struggled to say his name without spiraling into the abyss where you wished you could join him. 

“Racing is my oxygen, I need it to survive.” That is what he had said whenever someone asked him if he was thinking about retiring.

“I hate you,” you murmured to the picture of your wedding day, the bright smiles something that hadn’t been seen inside these four walls for a year. 

You could almost hear his mocking laugh and you sighed at the truth, you could never hate him. He was your other half, he completed you. You hated that he had left you and the emptiness that had remained in his absence.

“I miss you.”

A knock sounded at your door and you dragged yourself through the silent house to see what had been delivered. You didn’t want to have to interact with anyone, let alone on a day like this one. “Just leave it on the step.”

“Y/N?”

You stumbled at the voice and froze, wondering if it was too late to climb back into bed and pull the covers up over your head and hide from the world. 

“Please, Y/N, open the door,” Lando called out.

They had been teammates. They had been friends. The three of you had spent so much time together the media joked Lando wasn’t third wheeling but a part of a throuple. 

Your hand trembled as you reached for the stiff deadbolt, the harsh scrape evidence of how long it had been since it was last opened for a grocery delivery almost two weeks ago. 

After the funeral, everyone else moved on with their lives while you were left with dozens of decaying bouquets and sympathy cards that could never replace your husband. For a while there were phone calls and invitations but leaving the house had become daunting and eventually those had stopped entirely. You couldn’t blame them.

“Jesus,” Lando muttered as you opened the door. “Are you alright?”

“What are you doing here?” you asked as you pointedly ignored his question. 

He shuffled on the doorstep as he shifted his balance about. “It’s the memorial unveiling today, I thought you might want someone to drive you.”

If you could feel anything, you might have felt angry. “I didn’t know there was an unveiling.”

“Shit, seriously?” He ran a hand through his curls that had grown longer than he used to keep them. “You should be there.”

He carefully stepped around you and into the house, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled the stale air before he frowned. You couldn’t remember when you last opened the curtains, preferring the dark where you could sit in his shirt and pretend he was still with you even after his scent faded from the material.

Lando stepped into the kitchen next, opening the fridge and cupboards to find them almost empty before slamming them closed. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” you said lamely as he stormed across the room to grab your shoulders. “I’m fine. I was going to order groceries today.”

“This isn’t fine, Y/N!” He sighed and released his grip so he could pull you into his arms. “I should have come by sooner.”

You froze as you felt the first human contact in months and felt his heartbeat against you, the rhythmic thump enough to jolt you back into control and you pulled away, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively.

“I’m not your problem, Lando.” You turned to the door that was still open, his comical Fiat Jolly parked in the drive. “You should go.”

His head dropped as he slowly walked past, pausing only a moment to say something before he thought better of it and shook his head, closing the door behind him. 

The road noise in the retro pastel blue car was too loud to hear anything when Lando’s phone rang so he pulled over into the next parking lot off the busy streets and found Oscar’s name on the caller ID. 

“Hey mate, what’s up?” 

“Where are you?” his teammate asked in a hushed tone. “The ceremony starts in five minutes and you’re the one who actually drove with the guy.”

Lando stared out ahead at the shop space he had pulled into and saw it was a food mart. “I’m not going to make it.”

“What could possibly be more important than this?”

“I’ll talk to you later, tell them to start without me.” Lando hung up without a goodbye and rushed out of his car, an apology sent to his friend in heaven. 

There was no knock at your door this time, there was just the quiet scratch of the pot plant moving across the concrete step before it was unlocked and swinging open. 

You didn’t even have the energy to rise from the bed you had crawled back into, there was only one person who knew where the spare key was hidden. He pottered around in the kitchen and you heard the doors opening and closing before his bare feet padded softly down the hallway. 

“Coming in,” Lando warned as the door creaked open and he stepped into your room. “I hope you’re wearing something.”

Before you could ask why he gave you the answer and ripped the blankets off the bed. Cold air rushed in and you shivered as you pulled the hem of your husband’s shirt further down your thighs. The orange and grey pattern on the shirt caught Lando’s attention and his eyes turned down before he turned away and opened the closet.

You weren’t sure if he was expecting to see one half empty but you hadn’t been able to box up a single item. You were clinging onto them, and the memory they represented, for dear life. 

He grabbed a casual dress he had seen you wear before and tossed it over, the soft cotton covering your legs. “Get dressed.”

“Lando!” He had already disappeared back down the hall and you groaned as you rolled off the bed and onto your feet. The material hung loose around your body in a way it hadn't before and the dress was no longer flattering as you stood in front of the mirror. 

It was the first real time you had looked in the mirror and you barely recognised yourself. Your skin no longer glowed, your hair was knotted and unkempt and your eyes held no life where they were sunken into your face.

Needing to try salvage something of your dignity, you tried to brush out the knots but the handle snapped and you stared at it in disbelief. Sudden rage hit you as you failed at such a simple task and you threw what remained of the brush at the mirror, shattering the image but somehow making your reflection more true to how you were feeling.

“Y/N?” Lando skidded to a stop, barely missing the shards of glass on the carpet. “Are you alright?”

“No,” you admitted aloud for the first time and your legs gave out as reality crashed into you. “I miss him so much.”

You didn’t feel the glass slash your legs or the sharp pain as they stabbed your knees. You didn’t feel the warm blood seeping into the carpet or Lando’s arms as he picked you up. You didn’t feel anything but the overwhelming sense of loss like a fist squeezing your heart from inside your chest.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you,” Lando murmured as he sat you on the kitchen side and cupped your face. “I’m sorry I wasn't here.”

“I’m not your problem,” you reminded him as you shook his hands off your face. “You were his friend and I’m not an inheritance.”

“I’m your friend too. A shitty friend, but I’m going to fix that,” he said as he looked down at your bleeding knees, “starting with this.”

He went to the cupboard above the fridge to find nothing had changed and the first aid kit was still on the shelf you struggled to reach, but he easily did. You tried to get a bandaid from it as he placed it on the benchtop beside you but he moved your hands back and gave you a warning look.

“This might hurt,” he apologised as he broke the top off a saline bottle and started to rinse the blood away. “There’s some glass stuck in there - maybe we should go to the hospital.”

“I’m not going back there, especially not today,” you said with a lick of venom and a shake of your head. “There’s whiskey in the back of the pantry, just give me some of that.”

He seemed dubious about the idea but knew how stubborn you could be and exhaled a resigned sigh before getting the half empty bottle. He looked at you through the clear glass, above the sloshing amber, and you could feel the judgement in that stare.

“I have trouble sleeping.”

He didn’t give you a response as he handed it over before getting a chair to sit on, placing your foot on his knee so he could try to get the glass out with a pair of tweezers. To be honest, you were numb to everything and didn’t even need the alcohol but you gulped greedily at the spiced whiskey. 

“What’s that?” you asked as you noticed a pot on the stove, steam softly billowing up, and then you noticed the mouthwatering scent. 

“Vegetable soup. You need to eat.”

“When did you get so mature?” The joke fell flat as he looked up and you saw the depth of his own grief that he let escape from where he had buried it.

“A lot has changed in a year.”

There was no appropriate response to be said so you took another swig and felt the warmth of the alcohol hitting your empty stomach while he continued to pull shards of glass out.

“All done,” he said as he gathered the rubbish and left you to inspect the bandaids plastered all over your knees and skins too.

“If you ever look for a change in career, nursing isn't the answer.”

His lips curled up with a small laugh as he checked the pot and gave the soup a stir. “You’re meant to say thank you.”

“Thank you, Nurse Norris.”

Lando returned to where you were sitting after lowering the heat on the stove and tapped his finger on the stack of mail beside you. He picked up an envelope with the F1 symbol beside the return address and flipped it over before seeing almost a dozen others just like it. 

“Your invitation is probably in one of these.”

“Did you know there’s a clause in the contracts for ‘surviving spouses’?” You laughed bitterly and tipped the bottle back, no longer feeling the burn of the alcohol rushing down your throat. “They send a cheque every month, the very people who killed him and I want nothing to do with, and if it wasn’t already bad enough, they send it in his name.”

Lando looked at the envelopes and frowned. “Seriously?”

You took the top one and ripped through the seal to show him the cheque address to René Gauthier. On and on, you tore them all open and Lando swallowed deeply as the mess grew.

“Do they think €10,000 a month is going to make everything better? Nothing they do can bring back my husband.”

“Nothing can fix what happened,” he said as he wiped your cheeks that you hadn’t noticed were damp with tears. “I know it doesn’t make it any easier but they brought in new regulations this year, so it doesn’t happen again.”

“Sometimes I wish he hit those officials,” your voice broke at the whispered confession. “He would have had to live with that guilt, but at least he would be alive. Oh god, I’m a terrible person.”

René had been labelled a hero for the manoeuvre he had done to save the lives of the officials that were in the wrong place. He had put himself into a wall swerving away from them and while they had walked away unscathed for their mistake, your husband had died for his. It wasn’t fair.

“You’re not a terrible person, Y/N,” Lando reassured you as he pulled your hands away from where you had hidden your face in shame. 

The alcohol had hit your system and you closed your eyes as the room swayed, your words falling unfiltered as your head spun. “Racing was his life, Lando, but he was mine. I don’t know how to live without him.”

The bottle disappeared from your fingers and you lifted your heavy eyelids to see Lando putting it on top of the cupboards out of your reach. 

“You find a way to live because it's what he would want.” He scooped you up off the counter and your head fell into the crook of his neck without resistance. “You find a way to live because we’ve already lost too much. I’m not going to lose you too.”

Click here for part two.

[juniperdugong]

Perfection Pt.2; Alive

Brought back to life via lightning bolt, you and Mingyu discuss what happens now that you're back. He makes it clear that his intentions are to make you fall in love but is that such an easy task?

Pairing: mortician!mingyu x corpse!fem!reader

Genre: Mortician!au, Horror!au || Fluff, Crack, Romance, Angst

Warnings: Reader wears feminine clothing || Mentions of death and corpses (Nothing in-depth and nothing intended to disturb) || Mentions of suicide || Necro-romance, aka romantic attraction to a corpse. || Nudity || {Please let me know if there are other warnings you would like me to add}

WC: 4.7k

Songs that inspired this fic

Teaser | Pt.1 | Pt.2 | Pt.3 | Pt.4 |

A harsh slap to the face. Or rather, the cold smack of a linoleum floor. Your welcome greeting back into the world of the living. Your hands go to grasp anything they can hold onto on instinct but you find your muscles still tight and rigid. Processing such overstimulation is a task that not many would survive and even you at this moment are still reeling from the effects of, what was essentially, a lightning bolt shot into you. Too possessed by confusion to notice as strong but gentle hands grasp your shoulders guiding you to sit on the table you once laid.

"I've got you…" a firm and quiet voice attempts to assure.

Mingyu meets you with a stack of clothing, putting it down next to you. "Sorry, I was going to dress you before you woke up but I didn't want them to burn…nor did I think it would work at all." he says the second part in a hushed tone leaving you unsure if you should have heard it all.

You attempt to speak but your mouth feels sewn shut; Within a second of noticing your discomfort, he's at your side with an urgency that rivals EMS. Bringing his hands to your jaw, his expression grows serious as he gently relieves the pressure with a couple sways. His concentration makes your heart jump. He's so close and you can tell he takes this seriously; He takes you seriously. "Better?" he looks at you with concern.

"B-better." your mouth feels dry like it's filled with sand and gravel.

His face lights up as you speak. He stutters as he attempts to talk but resolves to holding your face in the palm of both his hands, holding you like a precious jewel. "It's worked…" It looks like he might just tear up but before anything threatens to spill he is picking up the stack of clothes once again and placing them in your lap. "You should get dressed, I didn't mean to have you indecent for this long."

He leads you to a corner of the room and grabs a foldable partition to cover you, even though he's already examined your body before. You can practically feel his excitement as multiple content sighs come from him from beyond the screen, the patter of his feet telling you that he's cleaning up all the things he had set in place before.

Once you're finished dressing yourself in…very fanciful(?) dress (what was meant to be put on you for your funeral viewing) you move the partition to find Mingyu standing underneath the skylight gazing at the night like a god. "Thank you," he whispers to it before you grab his attention.

"Ready?" he starts. "For?" "Right, I haven't told you anything yet. Forgive me." He leads you to sit on the rolling stool. "I have woken you because…" he sees the way you look up at him with doe-like eyes and anticipation, it makes him falter for a second before continuing. "…because I want to find love and well I was compelled by something unknown to me to believe that I might find that in you. I'm sorry for doing this without your permission, I didn't exactly have the means to ask." he doesn't meet your eyes when he says this. "But, if you don't want this, I won't force you. I've given you a second chance, I don't intend for you to be in my debt for it, however."

The way he speaks is so proper and refined compared to how you remember boys in life. His eyes barely meet yours as he waits for a response. Fearing the worst he begins to speak,

"You-" "I agree." your words strike him like arrows and poison his face with confusion. You continue, "I am not in your debt, I didn't ask for this umm-" he can sense you're searching for something. "Mingyu." he sees your discomfort in speaking and brings a bottle of water to hold before you. Waiting for you to finish. "-Mingyu. But since you've given me this chance." your memory flickers to the feelings of wanting someone, of loving someone, that you had before your death. "Why wouldn't I at least give it a try?" He looks up at you in astonishment but bites his tongue waiting for you to give more details. You take a sip of the water he's brought and it soothes your throat enough. "I think love is also something that I wanted in life but was never able to find. I don't remember feeling loved I mean. And I don't know if this will work out the way you imagine, I expect many complications because I can't hold out hope for the life of me. But that does not mean I can't try to fall in love…with you." for the first time he lets you hold his gaze. "Okay." Several seconds pass in silence as you both absorb everything. "What now?" "I had a plan…if you would like to go along with it." "Tell me-" "Of course!"

He goes on to tell you about what he had imagined. About taking you to either a shop to get more appropriate clothes, more comfortable ones; Or to his house to relax after something so-chaotic. In either case, he would defer to your wants and needs. He made sure that you knew that he was at your beck and call if you wanted him to be.

Without much deliberation you agree to go back to his home; It being far too late to consider if this is inappropriate, you were past that point the moment your lifeless eyes met his loving gaze.

Now you're in the front seat of his car, a silent drive, not even filled with music. You remember what it is to feel nervous now. The sweaty palms, the glances, the fidgeting, all of it comes back to you in this moment and you think What if this is wrong. Not once since you've been reanimated have you reflected on your choices or his but this silence gives you time to deliberate, albeit briefly.

You know how weird this all is, you've made peace with that. But the matter of love…that is your concern. To promise someone to try and fall in love with them? You barely know him. Although he is as handsome as it gets and obviously infatuated with you, you can't say that love can grow out of something as small as physical attraction. You've always thought of love as something much greater, maybe that is your failing but it is your opinion nonetheless. And now this conundrum has you-

Before you can finish your thoughts the door is opening and Mingyu is outstretching his hand to help you out. He leads you up to his home. A nice 2 story house, quite rare for a single man you think but you don't know how much money comes from the mortuary business. He fumbles with the keys before finally opening the door. Instantly, you are met with the same warm and inviting feeling you found when you first "met" Mingyu.

You would half expect that someone as clean and careful in the preparation room as Mingyu might live oppositely in his personal life but you are pleasantly surprised as the home you are in is as spic and span as can be. Cozy and clean. You're almost in wonderment at it but seeing how Mingyu comes in with ease and knowing makes you relax into the space as well. There is comfort in knowing that this home is his because he, himself, is comfortable to you. You don't know why that is but there is a sense of familiarity with Mingyu, maybe it's the same sort of feeling he felt when he looked at you for the first time.

He brings you in and sits you down in the living room. The lights cast an orange glow over everything that brings a great deal of warmth, something your body lacks. He doesn't so much as speak and it leaves you to think. Being left alone with your thoughts is nothing new but you have so much more to think about now with this situation.

Mingyu busies himself in the kitchen that overlooks where you sit. Your back is turned to him so you don't notice how he stares at you, your every movement making him restless; It's as though he's waiting for you to approach him, to call for him. But you don't, too wracked by everything to move so much as an inch from where he left you.

He returns with some ramen for the both of you. Setting it on the coffee table and motioning for you to join him on the floor. You have a hard time sitting down and once again he's practically jumping up to help you. Even still his gaze is beyond you, looking far past and never truly meeting yours.

"I should've told you that you can turn the TV on, I'm sorry…"

"Please don't."

"Don't? What?"

"You keep apologizing. You apologized for bringing me back, you apologized for not having me dressed. You don't need to apologize for even smaller things than that, Mingyu." You take hold of his hand as you say the last sentence and turn your attention to the ramen. "Thank you for this."

"Of course. I'm sor-" You give him a look and a smirk before he continues. Giggles are exchanged and you both turn attention to the TV for a time before stealing glances back and forth at each other, much more focused on being next to each other than what the game show host is rambling on about.

Dinner finishes and Mingyu takes both your dishes back to the kitchen. He returns quickly and shows you to the bathroom, "You can wash up. I've left some towels and clothes for you to change into on the sink. I hope they fit. But please…take your time. Enjoy your bath.". His eyes plead with you like he isn't simply wishing for you to have a good bath but instead, he is asking you to do so. He leaves you to your business.

You relish the feeling of a warm bath drawn. It brings you to life a second time or it is what truly makes you come to life. Your skin reacts to the warmth and color crawls back onto you. The pinkish tones cover you and you notice how the gray disappears in place of it.

You're once again alone with your thoughts and it allows you to think about everything, every moment that you can remember since awakening. The morgue, the journey in the car to the mortuary, meeting Mingyu, and then formally meeting him. It oddly makes you feel a bit empty. You don't know how to feel. It's all so surreal and you have to wonder if this is simply the afterlife, a mirage painted by god to make you believe. But he keeps bringing you back to the present.

Mingyu. Sure his looks might make you think he is an angel of some kind but his heart is human, maybe the most human amongst everyone you knew in life. His gestures and words and well…his life just feels like he is someone. He is tangible and real. He grounds you. In the same way you might've wanted to in life. You feel as though he will call you back home if you were away too long. And it's strange but it's fantastic and it makes you feel something, he makes you feel here. You do not wander in his presence and that empty feeling fades when he is near.

And just when you are finding comfort in Mingyu and contextualizing it you finish your bath and put on the clothes he's prepared for you. Some shorts and a tank top. Plain in their colors but it does strike you as odd. Why did he have women's clothes if he was single? You hate to doubt him so early on, a mere hours after meeting. But it does make you wonder, the thought draws you out of your body, and doubt surfaces along with anxiety. You hate yourself for it honestly. Because you barely know him and yet you feel so deeply about some made-up mistrust. You can't stand it and before you take a second longer to think about it, Mingyu does as he has since you woke up. He brings you back down to earth.

A loud knock at the door, "Sorry-shit, I mean I'm sorry for-Never mind." His voice instantly brings a smile to your face and any meandering thoughts you have float away, you giggle at his stuttering. "I hope you enjoyed your bath- I mean if you're still in there I don't mind but I just wanted to let you know that I'll be waiting in the living room…if you want to talk a bit before bed." He endears you so completely and as he perks up to speak again you are opening the door.

You're met with a hushed "Ah" as you see him. The smile on your face is contagious, catching on him and allowing you to see his shining fangs that make him resemble a puppy. His hair is wet and you suppose in the time that you've been bathing he's had the time to take a shower and change. He's wearing loose pajama pants and a white t-shirt that, because of the light, shows off his muscular figure. You are captivated and he follows your eyes chuckling, "Umm the living room?" you nod and he takes your hand in his as if it is the most natural thing in the world, leading you back to the couch downstairs.

You both relax into a comfortable silence. A sigh comes from you which he follows and you both are snickering at the gestures. How beyond ridiculous this day has been and yet also so perfect. There is so much to say and so little words to convey the feelings and thoughts you have. But who could blame you? It isn't like this situation is any more simple than a normal relationship or friendship. All the more complicated by the condition of your body and soul. After all, a corpse - it is infeasible, by regular means, for something like this to happen.

"So-" "So." in succession you both speak earning mild laughter from each other. "You wanted to talk about…" you begin with the obvious. "Right, I just wanted to talk. Gives us some time to get to know one another. But, even now I can't seem to find the words..." "I can't either. I mean- I just don't know what to say or talk about." "That's okay. We can start with something simple." "Like?" "Like…a game of 21 questions?" you have to scoff at the idea simply because it's so…normal. In all this mess of things that have been peculiar and weird, Mingyu is asking for something normal. "Okay, you first then. Since it's you're idea." It takes him a while and you let it happen, feeling no need to fill the space with idle conversation. "You're favorite color?" It takes you by surprise just how simple his question is and even still you are unable to answer with certainty, "Hmm I don't know. What's yours?" "Mine? I asked you the question…" he smirks. "I know but I don't think I have one-" "C'mon, you don't remember having one or you don't think you ever did?" "I don't know. Maybe I never did…" you ponder for a moment, you really don't remember much about your life other than the feelings. He's a bit baffled by the revelation but he doesn't want to bombard you too early so he concedes to your answer. "I guess, we'll just have to find you a favorite color then! Right, your turn."

Now you take a moment to think. "What about me-" you gesture up and down on your body, "caught your eye first?" There is a smile on his lips, "Honestly…it was your lips. Most people I see in my prep room come in with cracked and dried lips but you came in and I don't know, it was different. Your lips looked like you could wake up at any moment and-" he stops himself from saying too much, his mind in battle with something as strange as an attraction to your body, "You looked alive and yet you weren't, it captivated me." he says to you earnestly. You didn't know how to respond to such honesty. So you just let it be, allowing the muffled noise of crickets and the rustling of leaves to fill the awkwardness. "My turn again. Hmm, since we're jumping into the fray, what do you think of me?" You look at him confused, "What do you mean?" "I mean, I've brought you back to life, you're in my home, and we've talked about things that I've never talked to anyone about. So, what do you think of me? Of this?" he motions towards everything in the room so you can assume he means the situation. "I can't really say. I mean I accepted your proposal but it's not like I had many other options, y'know?" "Right." "I can say that this is new for me though. Attempting something like this, I don't think I ever did it in life." "You never fell in love?" "I don't think so…I don't remember those feelings." Gloom overcomes Mingyu as he hears this. "But! I think that just means that I have all the more to gain from this experience, right?" you try to assure him. "Right…" he's still mulling over what you said but gathers himself, "Your turn" "Okay- well, let's get back to a lighter note, what's your favorite song right now?"

You guys go back and forth for a while exchanging different likes and dislikes. The room is now more cozy with the familiarity growing even more between you. It's down to the last 4 questions now, Mingyu hums with anticipation as you search your mind for something to ask.

"Ah! I got it! This is something I've been thinking about but I didn't know if I should ask you about it. If we're taking things seriously then I don't want things to start off with any regrets or things unsaid so I'll ask anyway." "Okay, shoot." "Where exactly did you get these clothes?" your hands wave over the pajamas he gave you. "Oh, those are my younger sisters. She left them here during her last visit." you visibly relax at the answer and he notices. Being a bit bold he reaches out to place his hand on yours, "Hey, I know we just met but I wouldn't do anything to hurt you, certainly not give you the clothes of some other person." You take him for his word and grasp his hand in yours, allowing your fingers to intertwine. The ease of the action doesn't seem to affect either of you, it's like your hands were made to be together. "Your turn, Mingyu." "Hm hm hm…I was gonna ask you this anyway but since I can't come up with a good question I'll ask it now; Where do you want to sleep?" your puzzled expression spurs more of an explanation out of him, "I don't know where you're most comfortable so it's really up to you. The couch is comfortable but it's lonely down here. I have a guest room I can set up for you, when my sister visits that's where she sleeps. Or I can give you my bed for the night, don't worry about me I can sleep almost anywhere so it's no big deal, more comfortable than the guest bed though in my opinion." You digest all your choices, "The guest room works. Any bed is better than a body bag-" you joke earning a smile from Mingyu and a squeeze of your hand in recognition. "Done, I'll get that ready for you once we finish the game." "The next question I have is a bit of a serious one…" your tone makes him sit up straight.

"What happens to me?" "What?" "I mean, I'm dead according to official records and you were supposed to prepare my body for a viewing. What happens to me now that I'm back? What happens to my viewing? To the people who might go to that?" "I don't- I don't know." now he's as concerned as you are, making it evident that he didn't think this far ahead. "You were scheduled for a quick viewing, nothing fancy. And we have until next week to figure stuff out-" Mingyu begins racking his brain until an idea hits him. "I- We can say that you asked to be cremated. You left it in your…note." Both of you sour at the mention of your suicide note. "Right but doesn't the coroner have that? Haven't they read it by now?" "Yes, I mean it's a big part of determining your cause of death. But if we can go in there-" "Mingyu. You are not suggesting…" "I am. If we can get into the morgue and find your belongings, all we'd have to do is swap out a sheet of paper." The fact that this is on the table at all is blowing your mind. It's so incredibly risky. Maybe even more risky than just saying he lost your body. But if it works it certainly would clean up your issue quite well. No one would question the wants of a dead person, would they? Mingyu waits expectantly for your approval and after a minute you give it to him. "Okay." "Okay?" "Okay, we can try this but…" you look at him, both of your hands now holding his as he stares back at you with his big brown eyes whose effect is akin to a siren song. "-but we have to plan this out carefully. The morgue is the one place where people might recognize me easily since, y'know, they've seen my dead body." you try to drill seriousness into your words. "Yeah yeah of course! We can plan it out as carefully as you want, y/n."

The day has been long and although the conversation is lively enough to keep you both going Mingyu recognizes that rest should come sooner rather than later. "-But I think we should reserve that for tomorrow. I need to start getting your room together." He begins to get up before you're grabbing at his wrist. This man has been waiting for you to call for him; To reach for him, you've got him sitting back down in an instant as all his attention focuses on you.

"You have the last question, Mingyu." "Oh- Oh I- Umm." your touch lingers on him like some sort of spell meant to leave him in delirium. "It's okay, we don't have to finish the game-" "Ahh no no no, we can finish it, it's just one question…should be super simple to come up with one question." he contemplates for a while before speaking up again, whatever's come to mind making him blush wildly. "You can say no to this!" Great start Kim Mingyu, "I know we just met and this is a very sudden request; And I want you to know that you can refuse it if you don't feel comfortable. But since we've talked about the nature of what this is-" he motions towards the both of you, "-Do you think it would be too soon to ask for a kiss?"

Your mind goes blank. A kiss? Now? Unsure of what to say or how to react you just look at him with a stunned expression. Mingyu takes your apprehension as a "Not right now", not wanting to push you any further than you're comfortable with. He moves to cup your cheek, "It's okay, it's too soon, I know. I'll go get your room ready.", with that he's up and walking up the stairs.

You're still in shock from the question. Out of everything he could've asked and everything that he has asked this is the question that stumps you. Your mind is working overtime to process it. A kiss. Is that what you wanted? He was right, it is too soon. But eventually, would you get to a point where you're ready for that step? The thought runs rampant in your mind and you find yourself imagining what a kiss with Mingyu might be like, while also slightly scrutinizing yourself for missing the chance of finding out.

Lost in your imagination you come back to reality as Mingyu is coming back downstairs. "It's ready." You follow him to the guest room; It's just a few feet away from his room and as he ushers you inside he lets you know that if you need anything at all he's a few steps away.

The room is as clean as the rest of the house and you find yourself wandering around it in search of more pieces of Mingyu's life. A vanity holds some skincare products that are lightly used, Mingyu's sisters you think. Tucked between the mirror and the wood frame that holds it are a few childhood photos of the 2 of them. You can't help but smile as you picture them playing. The dresser holds other clothes, some of them you can discern are his sisters but others seem to be men's clothing. The closet doesn't reveal much other than spare towels and blankets.

You retire to the bed after your snooping and it doesn't take long for dreams to seep into your mind.

The dreams you have come to you more like visions. Recollections of the day spinning off into "what ifs-". What if you hadn't accepted Mingyu's proposal? Where would you be now, what would you be doing? If he hadn't woken you up at all? Would your soul be trapped in your body forever reaching for an afterlife and never finding one? And what if you had kissed him tonight? Would you still be here, sleeping alone in this empty room? Or would the night have somehow veered in a direction where he and you would be sleeping side by side? The night leaves you to meditate on the endless stream of questions and before long the sun rises.

Peaks of sunlight linger in the empty room but it isn't what wakes you. It's the loud footsteps that go up and down the stairs, the cacophony of different/unfamiliar voices, and the final straw, your door opens and a dolphin-like scream rings your ears.

Before you can open your eyes and see who it is they are running out of view but leaving the door swinging wide open. A man with glasses peaks his head in like a curious cat, immediately apologizing at the sight of you, "So sorry.". Promptly he closes the door leaving you reeling from the abrupt intrusion and unable to pinch together enough sense to realize the predicament you're in.

The door bursts open once again, and this time Mingyu rushes in. "I'm so sorry, they came in so suddenly. I told them not to come up-" "Who?" "My friends, it's okay, I yelled at them to go back downstairs. Are you alright?" he's hurriedly assessing your condition as if you were the one who screamed. "I'm fine…just shaken?" "Okay. Well, wash up, don't worry they won't bother you again and I'll tell them to leave." "You don't have to-" "I do though, they are so annoying" he huffs which elicits a laugh from you. He pats your shoulder before moving his hand towards your face, running his thumb over your jawline, admiring you for a few seconds. "I'll meet you in the living room?" "Yeah, I'll be trying to get those weirdo's out of here." he gets up and closes the door behind him as he leaves. You can hear a muffled yell that echoes through the halls as Mingyu scolds his friends.

Another day has come and you are absolutely alive.

A/N: This one was a doozy for me to write and by far the longest part in a fic I have ever made (even b4 this account lol) but I hope you like it! Please comment, like, and reblog if you do! Seriously, it encourages me so much to hear what you guys think. My biggest hope in posting this part is that it'll make me feel more confident in my writing since I've been in a slump ;-; Anyways my loves have a good weekend!! The taglist for this series is open and my requests are open as well!!

TAGLIST (open):@jjin-kun @mydolle-dd

[aphroditesmoon]

fade into you

jacaerys velaryon x targ!reader

summary: being the only daughter of daemon targaryen and his first wife rhea royce, you were promised to the prince jacaerys since his birth, after years of not seeing him, you return with your half-sister rhaena to dragonstone, where u finally reunite with him.

warnings: age-gap(reader is 5 years older), targcest, sad big brown eyes jace.

°°°°°°°

Rhaenys had flown on top of Meleys to dragonstone whilst you and your sister had sailed by ship. Despite Rhaena's own sadnesa for not owning a dragon yet, you were perfectly fine not having one.

Even on a ship you could barely survive the seasickness, what could flying on air do to you?

16 hours in Dragonstone, greeted by only Baela, your father had not come to see you. No, he had you come to his room to meet him. There was a stark difference between you and your other sisters, not only by the obvious physical look and mothers, but the way your father had treated you and them were as different.

Daemon had never loved Rhea Royce, but as true as his own brother's words, the love he bored for his first child, his first daughter, could not be compared to the ones that came after.

You knocked once until you hear his voice bids you to enter. When you look upon uim after closing the door behind you, you almost sigh out loud in relieve for the absence of Rhaenyra.

Daemon lifts himself up from the chair he was slumped over and graces you with a barely noticeable smile. You walk towards him and easily embrace him in a hug.

Your father releases you after a minute and gaze upon your face with an amused expression. "You don't look happy to see me." He concludes.

You shook your head and pulls his hands away from your shoulder. "Nonsense, course' I am. I'm just tired." He lets it slide and nods his head as you move to sit down next to his own chair. "So how has the sea treated you? You look well." He asks.

You smile and nod at him. "I am, Rhaenys has been very kind towards me, as if im from her own kin." Daemon frowns amd corrects you. "You are her own kin. You are my daughter, a true Targaryen."

Ignoring his words, you go on with your stories as a scholar there with Rhaena, pleasing him with how well your high valyrian is becoming. He himself tells you of his own stories of how things have been in Dragonstone.

As an hour or so passed, he finally reaches the part where he tells you that Rhaenyra is with child again.

You give him a short smile. "I heard, Rhaenys told us." He cuts the story short, sensing your hidden hostility towards his third wife.

You don't hate her, but you weren't stupid either, the day your mother died was the day before her wedding, the day your father unfortunately couldn't be at your mother's funeral.

"The maesters, thinks it might be a girl." He explains.

You smile again, "May she be as beautiful as her mother." He opens his mouth to respond, the door of hic chambers creak open, revealing the princess herself.

Her eyes widen at the sight of you, and her smile comes easily. You rise up greet her as supposed to. "You look well, taller than when we last met." Your hands fold behind your back, flinching at her touch. "Thank you, princess, you look fine as well, I hope the babe has treated you kindly."

You don't let the conversation drag longer than you want, excusing yourself out immediately.

You hear her voice as the doory shut closes. "She hates me." And your father responds as honest as he can be, "She hates everyone."

°°°°

You bump into Rhaena as you walk towardd you chambers, she stops you with a hand on your wrist. "I've just met Rhaenyra, there seems to be plans of a feast tonight, for your return." You frown at her. "Our return." You correct. She gives you a look. "If you say so, sister."

"You should see him in his chambers, he called for you before I left." You lied, wanting to ignore the uncomfortable. insinuation she's making. She bids you goodbye before before making her way there.

Relishing in the sound of her footsteps leaving, you almost had the peace and quiet you craved all day as you reach nearer to your room as a male voice calls out to you.

You close your eyes and breaths out an annoyed sigh. You turn your head back, being met with the lean and taller Jacaerys, the one person you didn't care to meet.

He has been running by the way he said your name, breathlessly.

"Jacaerys." You responded indifferently. "You've grown."

He smiles at you and you almost feel guilty for feeling annoyed at him earlier. "And you, more beautiful too." He compliments you, eyes not wavering from yours.

"You are too kind, I thank you." He seems to have nothing to say after your reply, staring at you, blinking, still smiling.

You smile as well, confused, before you nod at him and turn to walk again to your chamber. "There will be a feast tonight." He says suddenly.

You look back at him, "I know." You tell him and he nods. "It was my idea." He says again. You raise your brows at this and genuinely smile for the first time that day. "Did you? That is very generous of you, I'll be sure to save you a dance." You say appreciatively

This seems to please him as he nods again before slowly backing away to leave you to yourself, finally alone.

°°°

The faces of some lords and lady seems recognizable to you, but none of them were from Kingslanding, thankfully. You descended.the stairs with your sisters before taking your seat next to Jacaerys, Rhaenyra's seating plans, you were sure.

You give him a nod of acknowledgement before turning back tonypur front, pretending not to see him looking back at you and his own plate every minute.

You turn a deaf ear as you watch lords and ladies of noble houses present themselves to Rhaenyra and your father. Barely paying attention, you flinch when Jacaerys nudge you, looking up to the lady staring at you, as if awaiting an answer. "Yes?" You ask.

"Oh nothing-" She laughed. "I was simply saying how beautiful you have grown since i last saw you atbyou 5 and 10 nameday!" You remain quiet. "Much smaller too, tell me, how did you lose all that weight, after 6 children, i can't quite find a way to stay the same built as before."

Annoyance was tolerable, but offensiveness was not. "Oh it was quite easy actually, everytime I think I've overeaten, I just picture your face on my plate, my lady, and immediately, like magic, I throw up everything inside of me."

Silence overtook the table, save for the music and other tables chattering, and of course, Lucerys' choked up laughter, and poorly pretense of coughing.

You feel Jace's hand finding yours, squeezing it, in warning or in comfort, you cannot tell, you wanted to break his fingers in pieces, for how his touch made you feel warm and more rational.

You squeezed his hands harder, urging him to let go. He doesn't.

The dear lady whose house you care not to know, froze in front of you, flabbergasted. It was Rhaenyra's voice who broke the awkwardsness. "I thank- I thank you, for coming." Eyes frozen on you still, the woman slowly walks away.

You dare not glance your father's way, unsure if you'll be met with an angry man or an amused one.

The night went easily after that, his hand finally leaving yours as you began to eat. Not looking anywhere else. Tou could've melted on your chair there, and it'd be better, but a feast was what your dear dear betrothed had suggested for you.

It couldn't get any worse when Jacaerys, freshly reminded of you promise of a dance, abruptly stands up to ask for your hand.

You see your father hiding a smile as he sip from his cup, knowing you wouldn’t even dance with him. You could strangle him then. "What a pleasant idea!" Rhaenyra added, of course she did.

Begrudgingly, with the same practised smile, you stand up amd walk with him towards the hall filled with sweaty drunken dancing guests.

You let him take the lead quietly the first few seconds, until he decided it was time to speak. "You look beautiful tonight." You say nothing. "I mean you look beautiful every night-" "I get it." You assure him.

It was silent again before ge decided to try again. "Do you hate me?." The question took you by suprise, and you let yourself look upon him properly for the evening.

"No. I hate feasts. And I hate dancing." Upu answer, making sure you sounded softer this time.

Realisation shone in his eyes. "I've put you in an uncomfortable position then, i had no idea-" You interject immediately, uncomfortable with the guilt you've made him feel. "You couldn't have known. My father could've, and he didn't say anything, so don't worry yourself." Your assurance shut him up.

You can't help it then, the affection you feel for the prince whos unwavering effort to welcome you was unremovable. Taking three breaths in and out, you speak out. "How's your dragon."

His face looks confused at first before he snaps out of it. "Oh-Vermax? Oh, he- he's gotten quite bigger than the last time you were here. you'd be quite impressed if you see him now." He says, the smile making its way back to his face.

"I would like to see him then." You concluded. "Now?" He brows raises.

"I'd find it more welcoming than this feast." You tell him, a hint of teasing you're not sure if he could hear.

His eyes roams around to make sure.your families arent looking before he stops dancing altogether, his hand pulling you by your wrist as the two of you quickly leaves the loud hall.

It was further than you expected, but walking was better than dancing. When you finally reach the empty dragon pit, you nose scrunches at the disgusting smell of dragons. Was it dragon shit? Was it their body odour? Didn't matter, you were glad you didn't have one.

Jacaerys glaced at your face and let out a short laugh. "They don't smell so great do they?" You shook your head. "They smell like shit." You answered, holdimg his arm tighter as he moves in the dark.

"I forgot to bring a lamp or something, sorry." He apologizes, but a part of you doubts if he actually did forgot it. "No worries." You answer.

You weren't sure when exactly you made it in front of Vermax, but small lit fires by his place, gives you enough light to see him.

"Oh." You slipped out. "Oh? Are you dissapointed?" He jests.

You shook your head and pursed your lips. "Course' not, I actually thought he'd be uglier." The sound of Jacaerys bursting out laughing fills the silent cave, making you jump before you let yourself grin at him and at your own words.

"Is this better than the stupid feast?" He asks at last when his fit of laughter died down.

Without meeting his eyes, you answered him, "Yes, I'd say it is."

[unofficially-ace]

Star thoughts/liveblog (spoilers ahead ofc)

- If Splashtail is holding kittens hostage have you guys tried….driving him out? It’s literally one guy against the whole of Riverclan, just keep him away from the kits and there won’t be an issue???

- The conflict is kinda stupid I can’t lie, this could be solved if everyone in Riverclan wasn’t such a dumbass

- Cloverfoot is going to die in this battle I can smell it

- I can’t believe we’re getting fascism explained to us through warrior cats

- Berryheart fell down the crunchy mom -> alt right pipeline real

- This book is making me like Tigerheartstar wtf

- Frostpaw I would die for you

- Harestar you’re the most annoying mf ever please die

- What is it with Riverclan and their camp being turned into a prison every other series

- Graysludge and Mistslime are objectively hilarious names

- What happened to Splashtail being compelling why is he just cartoonishly evil and insane now

- There are not enough supporters of Splashtail to make give this any stakes come onnnn, he has like 5 people actually on his side

- I love Berryheart she’s so fucked up

- Wtf is Owlnose doing, why is he siding with Splashtail for no reason??

- Sunbeam you are so stupid my god

- ‘She didn’t realise what she was doing’ yes she did lmao

- RIP Berryheart you were the most compelling villain of the series

- That makes 2 dead female villains and we’re stuck with the boring male one….

- Owlnose you just killed someone don’t try and make me feel bad for you

- ‘The last thing she ever did was save you’ just like Curlfeather….the parallels…

- This feels like setup for Froststar ngl

- I can’t believe Nightheart is the only guy with a braincell here

- Is fogstar going to be a thing??? She hasn’t even been mentioned once before this book

- Riverclan is so stupid it actually pains me

- Why are we still calling them Greysludge and Mistslime that’s literally so mean lol, just call them by their apprentice names

- The tension is actually really good

- Not exactly liking how Splashtail seems to be genuinely mentally I’ll and that’s why he’s evil…

- He’s fuckin dead and we’re only halfway through?? Now what?

- So glad Frostpaw got to be the one to kill him though, that was so satisfying

- Riverclan you can justify all you want but at the end of the day you’re fuckin stupid

- The second he started doing murders y’all should’ve turned on him and it would all be fine

- Hi Mothwing when did you get here

- Lol fuck those guys (fognose and breezeheart)

- Goddamn Berryheart’s funeral scene is some of the best writing I’ve seen in a warriors book for a while, these are genuinely interesting emotions to explore

- Ewww I don’t wanna think about frost having a crush on splash stop bringing this up my god

- Oh fuck yes Frostpaw and Curlfeather angst

- If the rest of this book is just emotional conflict I will be more than happy with it

- Don’t kill off Frostpaw I swear to god

- Kate Cary I’m putting my trust in you

- This scene would make an incredible animation

- Might be my new favourite chapter of warrior cats ever holy shit that SLAPPED

- Fuck off Nightheart I need more Frostpaw

- Having Nightsky and Nightheart is so confusing

- Thunderclan can’t go two seconds without an argument (usually started by Lionblaze)

- I kinda love this type of conflict, it’s much more interesting than Splashtail being crazy

- Podlight is still here???

- Tree does something as a mediator for the first time ever

- Who tf is emberstar (if they’re relevant in Riverstar’s SE then I haven’t read it lol)

- The fact that I genuinely can’t tell if Frostpaw will survive is so good

- Please let the rest of the chapters be Frostpaw I don’t gaf about the others right now

- Whistlebreeze is the cutest name

- Frostdawn!!!! Also cute as fuck

- ICESTAR REALLLLL LETS GO

- Oh my god this chapter is gonna make me cry

- Sunbeam is pregnant and I want to explode

- And that’s a wrap on ASC , genuinely actually enjoyed this book, especially the second half. The emotional conflict was really interesting I gotta be honest, Frostdawn’s almost-dead scenes were so fun and had really good tension. The conflict with Splashtail ended up getting really stale, I’m glad he was killed halfway through because I couldn’t have dealt with that being dragged out for a whole book

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

🖤 + ship of your choice?

kissing while crying / goodbye kiss / desperation

I keep thinking "I'm so bad at writing angst and anything upsetting, I hate leaving my stories as anything but lighthearted :/" but then I consistently end up writing angst into everything, including fic chapters that are supposed to be comedic and fluffy so uhhhh lets see how I do when deliberately going for emotional devastation :D !

And since I've been thinking about it lately we'll go with a premise of:

A Jason who knows he's come back from death many times but has no guarantee he'll come back from death again volunteering for a suicide mission and Tim knowing this might be his last chance to confess

There's nothing graphic, but this is all hurt no comfort, angsty as fuck sad shit with an ending that leaves it ambiguous as to whether or not this death sticks. Hope y'all enjoy!

Jason states in a flat, calm tone, "It needs to be me."

They all turn to look at him, their bodies backlit by the glow of the reactor's slowly worsening meltdown.

"What the hell are you talking about," Dick asks, while Tim's blood turns to ice in his veins.

"I didn't survive that plane crash into the meteor. I didn't survive that fall into the ocean. I didn't survive the warehouse. I've been killed over and over and come back from it every time, so if one of us has to die tonight it needs to be me."

"A terrible argument," Damian declares resolutely, standing firm despite his trembling, "We have no reason to suspect that those instances were anything other than circumstance. Random chance and dumb luck runs out. What we need is certainty, and... and Father would bring me back again. We all know it. I can take it."

"I did not come back just to throw another kid to their death! Maybe when you're gnarled and grey and about three hundred years too old to live without a lazarus pit we can talk, but until then I am not about to let you die in my stead."

Damian backs down quietly. He looks relieved, and guilty.

"Then let me do it," Tim demands, trying and failing to sound light and fearless, "Everyone else has had a turn with death, seems a little unfair doesn't it? Hogging all the afterlife experiences for yourselves?"

Jason says with quiet vehemence, "If that's how fairness works, then I will be as brutally unfair to you as I can be."

A long silence stretches between them as they stare each other down. Tim fights to keep the lump in his throat from spilling out into tears and Jason struggles between the need to see himself grieved and the yearning to comfort him and make this all easier somehow.

Finally Dick breaks the silence, "What would you like us to do for your funeral this time?"

"I want to be cremated on the bank of the Ganges with proper rites. Mild preference for a Shaivite or Shakta sect, but I'm not really picky."

And that was it. His fate was sealed.

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

Tim grabs his hand before he can step into the airlock leading to the reactor's emergency maintenance tunnels.

Jason glares at him, "You aren't stoppin-"

"I know!" Tim lowers his voice to a whisper, "I know..."

"Then what...?"

"I'm sorry if this isn't anything you want, but I can't let you go without saying it. I- I love you. I'm in love with you."

He looks stunned, shocked, almost hurt. Then he kisses Tim fiercely, pressing every bit of affection he can into him with the slim moments they have left. Salt stings their dry lips and they cling to each other with vain desperation until their arms ache.

When he finally pulls back Jason roughly scrubs the tears from his eyes, "Fucking cruel of you to give a dying man something to live for."

"Promise me, please, if you can, if you get a choice, if you're at all able to, please promise me you'll come back?"

"No. I love you more than bread and wine, but my death is mine and I utterly refuse to allow your feelings or anyone else's to sway me in this. However..." Jason's voice grows soft, and he lifts Tim's hand to tenderly kiss at his palm and wrist, "If I am brought back? I swear that it will be you I come back to. I swear that I will give you my heart and everything else you ask of me; this will be the only thing I ever deny you."

Tim grips him tight, squeezing his eyes shut, tears and sweat rolling down his cheeks as the reactor burns itself ever hotter. Then he shoves Jason away, into the airlock chamber.

"I hope it's quick," He knows it won't be, "I hope it doesn't hurt," He knows it will, "I hope you get what's best for you," Just as long as it's not the end you want.

"Goodbye Tim. I love you."

"I love you too. So, so much..."

The blast door swings shut between them.

[dailydragon08]

Homecoming

Pairing: Luke Skywalker x F!Jedi!Reader   Summary: Although you're skilled in the ways of the Force and use that to your advantage in your medbay job, you always thought Luke Skywalker would be the one rescuing you, not the other way around. Warnings: reader gets shot with a blaster in the arm and leg, but injuries are not described in detail. Canon-typical violence. Reader has been separated from their family at age 10, but kept what exactly happened to them vague for self insert purposes. A/N:  "Remnants" is a series of one shots in no particular order about the budding relationship between you and Luke as he trains you in the ways of the Force. Remnants!Reader and Luke's first meeting. This is my first fic in a while and my first time writing action, so please bear with me! Hoping to get back into writing more frequently now. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated and my Remnants masterlist can be found linked in my pinned post on my blog! Enjoy!

**

“Careful,” you said as you helped yet another rebel soldier onto the transport heading back to Home One, where you were typically stationed in medbay. But today, someone needed to be on the ground to give first aid to any critically wounded soldiers so they could survive the trip back to base—and that someone had been you. Not out of any obligation. But something felt like it had been pulling you to the dusty plains on-planet, and you were never one to refuse a call from the Force. 

A nearby explosion made you jump as the soldier ducked into the small ship. The pilot leaned out the door to shout over the racket, “You coming back as well?”

“I—” There it was again: the pull from this morning. The world stilled as you instinctively let yourself sink further into the Force. Time slowed and you were aware of all the souls on the battlefield, felt their fear, helplessness, rage, as particles of dirt and dust flew everywhere. They seemed to whiz by in slow motion so that you could see every facet of the tiny pieces of debris and in the middle of all the chaos, one particularly powerful presence about to knock on death’s door. They were close and felt different from the others—easier to grasp and hold onto. You’d felt this presence at rebel functions and on Home One before, and just like every time before, it somehow reached back until you were intertwined inexplicably before everything suddenly snapped back. 

“Um, hello?” the pilot waved his hand in front of your face. “You coming back or not?”

You blinked. “Sorry. No, I’m staying here.”

“This may be the last transport for a while.”

You felt the presence reach out to you again like a soft hand smoothing over your shoulder and shook your head. “No, I’m staying.”

Another boom and several screams echoed in the distance as he shrugged. “Your funeral.”

You barely waited for the ship’s door to close before tightening the strap of your medical bag and sprinting towards the source of the connection, trying to keep it as steady as possible through the Force. Of course, the one day you left your grandfather’s old lightsaber in your quarters was the day you might need it. Typically, it came with you everywhere, but it was left behind in your rush to play field doctor. Your parents had taught you what they knew of the Force before you’d been separated from them at age 10 and your savior and adoptive father, an old clone that had somehow escaped conversion during the Purge and joined the rebellion named Rex, took over your combat training. 

You weaved between the alleyways of abandoned stone houses in pursuit of your goal, hiding behind fallen objects and receiving cover from your comrades as Stormtroopers continued their assault. Although the emperor and Darth Vader were dead and the empire was fractured, small remnants remained here and there, trying to reorganize and reclaim power through their moffs’ and superior officers’ orders. 

A blaster shot grazed past your shoulder enough to tear through your jacket. You hissed through your teeth, but otherwise ignored it. The feeling of the presence reaching out through the Force, like a soft hand on your shoulder, came again. The touch was just as gentle, but came with a new sense of urgency, and you quickened your pace as the sounds of battle continued to ring around you. 

The presence grew in strength as you reached the end of the maze the neighborhood created. Just as you began to slow your pace so as not to run straight into a crossfire, a Stormtrooper jumped out from behind a nearby dumpster and pulled you down with him. You both writhed on the ground as he wrapped an arm around your neck and his legs around yours, boxing you in. You began rocking your body violently in an attempt to free yourself, managing to free an arm in just enough time to move his blaster away from your neck. He fired just as you moved, getting you at close range right in the calf. You cried out in pain, taking a deep breath before bringing your head forward, then whipping it back as hard as you could.

You winced as the trooper cried out, but didn’t indulge the pounding in your head as his arms fell to his sides. You stood, grabbing his blaster out of his hand and bringing the butt down hard on his helmet. He grunted before going limp. You nudged his foot with yours and when he didn’t move, held tight to the blaster and crouched by the opening to the plain ahead. 

Several crashed ships, dumpsters, and debris were scattered over the dirt with a large circle of Stormtroopers and Darktroopers nearby. The presence felt so close that you knew your quarry was in trouble in the middle of it. But this was away from the main fight, and the only other rebels that had been here before were all either unconscious or dead on the ground. 

A mechanical beeping nearby caught your attention and you looked just in time to see a Darktrooper round a fallen x-wing. You barely scrambled inside the lid of an overturned dumpster before it began shooting at you. You heard it thunk closer and held your blaster close to your chest. Another softer, more timid set of beeps and whistles sounded just in front of you. You jumped, pointing your blaster toward the sound only to find a little blue astromech wobbling on its legs in front of you. 

You breathed a sigh of relief as the Darktrooper continued to descend. You could feel the shots of its blaster shaking the dumpster and leaving searing holes you did your best to avoid. Turning to the astromech, you whispered, “You go around back and electrocute him while I distract him?”

The droid chirped before whizzing out of the dumpster, hugging the side closely. The Darktrooper was close enough now that you could hear the whirring of its ankle joints. You took a deep breath through your nose and blew it slowly out your mouth before squaring your shoulders and whipping around the corner, blaster at the ready. 

The imperial droid was barely inches from you as you raised your blaster toward its head. Before it could adjust its aim to shoot you, blue electricity engulfed its frame and it twitched and shook. You scampered back several steps as its head spun in circles, watching it fall to the ground with a solid thud to reveal the astromech. It chirped and beeped cheerfully before wiggling back and forth. 

You gave it a small smile and pat on the head. “Good work, buddy—whoa, hey.” A small claw shot out of the droid’s side and grabbed onto your jacket, slowly pulling you towards the x-wing and closer to the circle of imperials. 

“Is your master in that circle?”

The droid wiggled his body in what could’ve been a nod, but a Stormtrooper turned to face you before you could reach cover. “Hey! Over there!”

You cursed before diving behind the x-wing as the droid squealed in terror and sped after you. The ship provided decent cover for the moment as blaster shots rained down on you (and some even went far past you; typical Stormtroopers, but you weren’t complaining). 

“How are we gonna get out of this one?” you grumbled before peering around the x-wing. 

You groaned and pulled back as something small caught the sun's light and blinded you. You risked another look and saw a small, silver cylinder only a few feet away from you in the dirt: a lightsaber. You frowned. It certainly wasn’t yours. And the only other person you knew of in the rebellion who owned a lightsaber was—

Oh. Oh. Now you definitely had to save him. 

You turned to the droid beside you. “So that makes you R2?”

The astromech whirred excitedly and if the situation wasn’t so dire, you would’ve laughed at how it seemed proud and excited to be recognized. 

You glanced at the lightsaber on the ground again and saw half of the imperials coming towards you while the other half stayed closely huddled around a figure clad in black. Two Darktroopers kept a firm grip on his arms, twisting them behind his back before forcing him to his knees. You made eye contact and felt him reach for you again through the Force, this time with an urgent, unspoken plea to run while you still could. 

Closing your eyes, you tuned out R2’s urgent whistles to sink into the calming nature of the Force. You could feel the man’s presence even more clearly now and felt his fear—not for himself, but for you. Not just surprise, but a sort of awe and relief rolled through him in waves at finding someone who he could not only reach for, but who could reach back. You sensed he’d lived his whole life as if he was invisible in the Force and could watch the goings on, but never join. It was like constantly waving at passersby and having all hope squashed of someone ever waving back—until now. He seemed so elated to find someone like him that you were sure it affected his ability to withhold these strong feelings from your connection. You hadn’t even been properly introduced, but he was already cherishing your connection—and fearing whether you would survive long enough to be introduced. 

Focus. You honed in on the world around you and time again seemed to slow to a crawl. You locked all your concentration on the weapon in front of you, feeling the Dark and Stormtroopers’ feet move ever closer until they were only a few steps away from what might be your only saving grace. Grab the lightsaber! you thought you heard one shout. 

You remembered the Jedi phrase your parents taught you. “I am one with the Force and the Force is with me.” Taking one final deep breath, you let your hand leave the cover of the x-wing to reach towards Luke Skywalker’s weapon. 

R2 let out a started beep as the lightsaber zipped into your hand and you ignited the green blade. You took a split second to admire the detail on the hilt before slinging the blaster’s strap over your arm and stepping out into the fray. 

You easily batted the blaster fire away—just as you’d practiced for years with Rex and your grandfather’s lightsaber. Several of the shots successfully deflected into the troopers, sending them sprawling on the ground. R2 carefully zipped around the battlefield and incapacitated as many Darktroopers as possible, leaving you a clear shot to Luke. 

You slung the blaster off your shoulder and threw it as hard as you could, using the Force to guide the weapon onward. Dust that had kicked up from the fight made it hard to see, but you could sense precisely where everything was through the Force and used it as your guide. You slingshot the gun into the heads of the Darktroopers who were holding Luke hard enough to make them stumble and let go. He took his opportunity and grabbed the gun from where it fell as you continued to deflect fire and cut through armor and mechanics alike. 

Although you’d gotten plenty of Force training from your parents, which you’d continued via your grandfather’s journal after you’d been separated, and combat training from Rex, you’d never been in the thick of battle like this before. At least not fighting. You had shot and killed several Stormtroopers before, but always from a distance. Never like this—never close enough to hear their hiss of breath as they fell or the mechanical whirring of a Darktrooper malfunctioning. It was anxiety, relief, and guilt all at once, as well as anger toward the people who had made this conflict necessary in the first place. 

Again, you felt a cooling, calming presence wash over you, reminding you that everything would be all right, and you reached back just as gently, even as you both saw to the enemy. The green saber in your hands slashed through the closest Darktrooper, cleaving it straight in two before a low, mechanical growl sounded behind you. You spun, unsure if you could raise your defense in time, but a sudden blaster shot clean through the head rendered it useless. You stepped out of the way as it crashed to the ground. 

You urgently looked around, adrenaline pumping wildly, before realizing the only sound you could hear nearby was your own heavy breathing. All the troopers lay scattered on the ground around you with no more in sight who could pose a threat. You sheathed the saber’s blade, taking comfort in the soft whoosh it made, before closing your eyes and focusing on your breathing. In the sudden silence, a steady wind whistled across the plain. By force of habit, you reached out to check that Rex was safe and finally let yourself fully relax when you sensed that he was. 

The familiar presence reached out to you again, this time from just in front of you. Although this battle wasn’t the first time you’d sensed it, you’d never had a chance to feel just how strong and solid it was. It was light like air, but somehow also steady and unwavering, with a twinge of darkness but a steadfast choice not to give into it. Even though you’d just now really met, it had the comforting sense of coming home to an old friend and it was hard not to already feel a level of affection for him because of it. You could feel his affection and curiosity flowing back to you in equal measure. It made you almost afraid to open your eyes in case this homecoming within the Force was all a dream and would melt away. 

A warm, rough surface brushing against the back of your hand forced you to finally look. The hero of the rebellion stood in front of you, his fingers gently brushing the hand still holding his lightsaber. His eyes were even more blue than the sky above you, but somehow the icy color still held a warmth and concern unlike any you’d ever seen. He made himself so open and after all the stories about what he’d lost and how many imperials he killed, it was shocking in a way that made you want to protect him at all costs. His face, although worn and scarred, held so much depth and kindness and you wondered what kind of hell he’d gone through to come through war with so much love to give still—and you could sense exactly how much he still had in him through your bond, and how excited he was to maybe share some of that with the first Force-sensitive person his age. There was a weight to him, but it somehow felt settled, as if he’d accepted himself as he was and the heaviness as just another part of him. His signature held a bittersweet taste: half melancholy, half hope for a better future. 

It didn’t help your gawking that he was strikingly handsome—strong jaw with a jacket and pants that fit him like a glove and showed off his toned physique. Not to mention the actual glove on his right hand and the fact that he’d made sure to touch you with the uncovered one for skin-to-skin contact. The wind brushed his brown hair over his forehead and you couldn’t help but notice how tan his skin was and how calloused his hands were. You thought you remembered whisperings of the rebellion’s Boy Wonder who blew up the Death Star starting out as a clueless moisture farmer from Tatooine, but got too lost in the planes of his face to focus. 

“Are you all right?” he asked softly, his hand still gently brushing yours and pulling you back to the present. 

“Yeah,” you breathed out, surprised to sense him having a similar struggle through the Force. “Here’s your lightsaber back.”

He took it from your hand, letting his fingers linger against yours for what felt like a deliberately long moment before reattaching it to his belt. “Thank you for the help.”

“You seemed like you could use a rescue.”

He smiled and you had to remind yourself to breathe at the sight. “Yes, I got a bit caught off guard with the sheer number of them.”

R2 suddenly whirred and rolled over to stand by his master’s side, beeping excitedly. You both chuckled at his antics as Luke put a comforting hand on his dome. “I’m Luke—”

“Skywalker,” you finished. “I know.”

You regretted saying anything as he gave a stilted nod, suddenly bashful and very interested in his shoes. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s all right.” He met your eyes again and gave you a small smile. “You work in medbay, right? You’re Y/N?”

You tried your best to hide your elation that Luke Skywalker knew who you were, but he undoubtedly picked up on it through the Force. “Yeah, I was on field doctor duty today, but…felt you and that you needed help.”

“I felt you too…” he paused, seeming unsure, before continuing. “I think I’ve felt you several times throughout the war, actually, but could never put a finger on exactly what I was feeling. I guess I never realized another Force-sensitive would feel different to me than someone who isn’t—minus my masters, of course.” He hesitated again. “It…feels good to find someone else who knows the ways of the Force.”

Now it was your turn to inspect your shoes bashfully. “Yeah, it does for me, too.” As you felt the last of the adrenaline leave your body and your eyes landed on the blaster wound on your leg, pain suddenly came pounding to the surface, as did the graze on your shoulder. You weren’t sure how you’d managed to fight as well as you did with injuries, but adrenaline could be a funny thing. The burning, however, was not so funny. 

“Are you hurt?” Luke asked, closing the distance between you and gently touching your intact shoulder. You could feel fear stab through to color his Force signature as he frowned, following your eyes to your leg and wincing. 

“I’m all right—”

“Anywhere else?”

You sighed, somehow knowing you’d be unable to lie to him. “A shot grazed my arm, but I’m okay—”

“Here, um—” He paused as he looked around. “Where’s somewhere you can sit…”

R2 tittered as he dragged an overturned wooden crate over with his retractable claw. 

“Thanks, buddy,” you said as you flopped down harder than you meant to, moving your medical bag to sit on the ground next to you. You opened the flap and began to dig, but Luke’s hands, which dwarfed your own, stopped you.

“Please, let me—unless you’d prefer to do it?” 

His blue eyes were pleading as he stared up from where he’d crouched in front of you, leaving you unsure how anyone could say no to him. “Um, no, if you want to…” You gestured awkwardly to your bag. “Do you need me to talk you through it?”

He chuckled. “Oh no, I’ve had to do this for myself many times—I mean, you work in medbay though, so of course, if you’d prefer—”

“Um, no, you can go ahead.”

“You are the expert, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

You both stared awkwardly at each other for a moment before laughing and quickly looking elsewhere. As he dug through your supplies, you could see a slight pink tinting his cheeks, filing the image away deep in your mind. The fact that you, of all people, had made him blush felt like something to be proud of. 

As he cleaned and bandaged your leg and arm (you didn’t think it warranted a bandage, but he insisted), you told each other of your upbringings, stories from your time in the rebellion, and even sat there for several minutes after the dressings were completed to talk about hobbies and music preferences before your wrist comm beeped. 

“All right there, soldier?” Rex’s voice floated through the speakers. 

“Yeah,” you answered back. “Minor injuries, but I’m fine. I’m with Commander Skywalker and R2-D2.”

“Skywalker?” Rex asked, his voice cracking slightly. 

“Y-yeah?” You frowned at Luke, but he simply shrugged, looking just as confused. 

Rex cleared his throat. “Ah, well, good. The final transport just landed for stragglers. Can you make it here, or need us to come pick you up?”

“I think I’m good to walk.”

Luke gave you a look and although you realized you were looking at your superior, you couldn’t help pulling a face, using your forefinger to pull the tip of your nose up to show him just what you thought of that. He snorted and seemed surprised by the sound that came out of his own mouth, turning his head to smother his laugh as Rex gave you the coordinates. 

“We should be there in 10-15 minutes tops.”

“Copy that, kiddo. See you soon.”

R2 twittered next to you. 

Luke chuckled. “He says you can ride him back to the ship if you want.”

You smiled, but shook your head. “It’s not too bad. I’ll be fine, but thanks, R2.”

Luke helped you stand, keeping his hands on your upper arms to steady you.

You swallowed nervously. “I know you technically are a commander, so sorry if any of that,” you gestured vaguely towards where you’d been sitting, “was, um, out of line or anything.”

Luke’s face fell and he shook his head, rubbing your arms gently. “No, no, please. We’re Jedi. We have to stick together. There’s no rank here.”

“Well, I mean, I’m not technically a Jedi.”

“I could teach you if you’d like. It seems like you have some to teach me as well.”

You smiled and nodded. “I’d like that.”

He sighed in relief, as if he thought you might refuse. “Promise you’ll lean on me if your leg gets to be too much on the way back?”

You nodded, hoping you didn’t appear too smitten as he stayed close and kept a hand on the small of your back the entire walk back to the ship.

[tranakin-skywalker]

Wait you're making a fic for your torgruta au?? Tell me more please

Yeah, I've been thinking about writing a fic about it for a while now. Most likely it's going to be a series of oneshots so I can hop around to different parts of the story I find interesting.

A lot of the ideas are coming from the hyena discord, so I can't claim them as my own. But they are just too good to pass up. Like togruta making infrasound with their montrals and constantly projecting their moods. So when Anakin first gets to the Temple he's constantly screaming for him mom at a pitch that only other togruta can hear.

I've decided that that's actually how he first meets Ahsoka. She hears him making his lost, scared, where's mom, where's family sounds and seeks him out to comfort him. Ahsoka would be about four here, and would have left Shili recently enough that she could still remember what those noises mean, even if Tatooine togruta sound different from Shili togruta. (to a Shili tog Anakin's distressed noises sound like he's being maimed, but that's just because of the generational trauma and general awfulness of being a togruta on Tatooine. What they would think of the vocalizations he makes when actually being maimed we will not think about)

So Anakin and Ahsoka end up growing up together right from the start, and the main reason Anakin is so insistent on being knighted early is so that Ahsoka can be his padawan. It's a private thought he has to himself at first, but as Ahsoka gets older and no masters are showing any interest in taking her on she starts to panic. Anakin tells her that he'll just have to get knighted before she ages out so that he can be her master. And then the Clone War starts and he realizes that keeping his promise means bringing her onto the battlefield with him where she could die and he's not sure if he'll be enough to keep her alive :)

Because Shmi is a togruta too she does not get bought by Cleigg Lars. I am just. not dealing with the implications of that. (Listen. I want to read Shmi's marriage to him as a good thing, but I have a very hard time doing that.)

Now, there's actually a comic (Legands, I think, not Disney canon) where Gardulla goes to Watto and tries to buy Anakin back after he wins the Boonta Eve Classic. So have some fun thoughts about what would have happened to Anakin if he hadn't gone with Qui-Gon.

In the fic, Gardulla goes to buy Anakin but of course he left with the Jedi, so Gardulla decides she'll take Shmi as payment for Watto's debts. After all, if Shmi already had one child who turned out to be a talented podracer, well, she might have more. Hence the younger sibling that comes about shortly after Anakin leaves.

When Anakin goes back to Tatooine because of the nightmares about his mom he finds out that Watto sold his mom back to Gardulla and has to go to her to buy his mom's freedom. Which would be traumatic, on multiple levels. Anakin finds out that a month before he arrived, Shmi tried to escape with the sister Anakin didn't know he had, and Gardulla had their chips detonated. Gardulla even gives him their triggered remotes as proof.

(Of course unbeknownst to Anakin, Shmi and the sister survived and are living with a village of other escaped togruta.)

A lot of canon still happens the same, including Anakin's fall, Order 66, Mustafar, etc. But when Bail Organa sees Ahsoka at Padme's funeral he tells her that he can take her to a mutual friend of theirs. Ahsoka thinks (hopes) it's Anakin at first, and is devastated when she realizes it's Obi-Wan (and then hates herself for feeling disappointment because she should be happy that Obi-Wan is still alive, but he's not Anakin, and this means that Anakin must be dead).

There's no Lars family and the Organas would have a harder time explaining a non-human daughter, so Ahsoka and Obi-Wan end up taking care of the twins. They eventually find their way to Tatooine because it's out of the Empire's notice and, well, because it's a connection to Anakin (Ahsoka's trying to hold onto anything she can that connects her to her brother and Obi-Wan is in his self-harming phase.)

And it's there that they eventually run into a little community of togruta and a woman who looks suspiciously like Anakin who has the last name Skywalker. But hey, Shmi gets to meet her grandkids at least. Even if it happens at the same time that she finds out that son she thought she'd sent away to a better life and hasn't seen in 13 years is dead. (Obi-Wan sees how much Anakin's death destroys Shmi and decides to never, ever tell her what he became. Vader will be his burden and it's a secret he will take to his grave. Anakin Vader is dead, and he'll save them from ever finding out how it really happened)

Of course, 15 years later Ahsoka goes to rescue some rebels from a walking death omen in black when she realizes the infrasound calls he's shrieking out of his mangled montrals is devastatingly familiar.

[meraki24601]

Hello, Meraki! I hope you are doing well :)

Could you please consider continuing the Traveler story? Only if it’s okay with you, of course!

Maybe Traveler getting worse…?

Hello, Friend! Thank you for your patience with this one. I've been caring for my grandparents recently, so I haven't had much time. I hope you enjoy!

The Traveler Part 2

Part 1

-----------*-***-*-----------

Traveler was very sick. 

Innkeeper recognized the symptoms, but they called for the village physician to be sure. It was worrisome that their friend didn't stir through the whole examination. Physician was not gentle as they completed their tests. 

“Three days.” Physician's voice was grave as they packed their bag. “If the fever breaks and they regain enough strength to sit up on their own, they might survive.”

“I see. Was I right then? It’s the same as before?” 

“Yes. Just like before. We caught it earlier this time. There’s still a chance for this one. Try to keep them cool. Give them broth to eat as often as they can stomach it.”

Innkeeper nodded, eyes searching for answers in the swirling lines of the wooden floorboards. “They were in the market when I found them. There’s a chance it's already spread.”

With a low groan, Physician rose from the low chair next to the bed. Their bag clinked and rattled as they lifted it onto their bowed shoulders, but still, Traveler didn’t so much as twitch. “Just the same as it happened before. I’ll keep an eye out for others. Meanwhile, would you prefer Hyden or Caleph? I’m sorry, I can’t spare Tamrey if there’s to be another epidemic.”

“Hyden will do just fine. He’s drunk enough of my Ale to know what to do around here. Thank you, Physician.” Innkeeper took Physician’s chair and replaced the rag on Traveler’s forehead with a cool one.

“Word of Traveler’s illness will spread quickly. I’ll do what I can to keep rumor and curious visitors at bay.” The door creaked, and raucous laughter and clanking tankards filled the room. It seemed Physician had already brought Hyden to fill Innkeeper’s place. “Keep your head high, Innkeeper. We know more of the illness this time. We know how to fight. I’ll send Caleph with medicines as soon as I can. In the meantime, when Traveler wakes, don’t be afraid to look them in the eye.”

The door closed with a rough groan like a funeral drone. Physician was right; the treatment had come too late for their spouse, but it had come. The villagers had survived before, and Traveler would survive again. 

Tales of adventure and danger always seemed to follow Traveler. Most of them were likely true. Though, they would likely say none but the wind would hear this tale. That suited Innkeeper just fine. 

Ringing sounds of merrymaking leaked through the cracks in the walls all through the day and long into the night. It was enough to keep Innkeeper’s spirits from falling further as they waited at Traveler’s side. 

A good lad and a great worker, Hyden kept suspicions away at Innkeeper’s absence. He stopped by the room every hour to replace the cool water for Traveler’s brow and to bring the medicine when it came. Even without Innkeeper’s asking, he drew a bath to clean and cool Traveler before he left for the night. 

The bath was needed. Traveler was still covered in the filth from their travels that now clung to them tightly with the sweat from the fever. Innkeeper could feel the heat coming off them in waves as they lifted them from the bed and stripped them of their clothes. It became a minor distraction under the weight of the scars that covered Traveler’s body. It seemed more of Traveler’s tales may be true than what Innkeeper had believed.

Lowering their friend into the water, Innkeeper was worried it was actually too cold until they felt Traveler’s temperature begin to lessen. The medicine, fresh bath, and Innkeeper’s gentle rubbing of the dirt from their body seemed enough to cause Traveler to stir for the first time since the sun had risen. Though they barely had the strength to lift their eyelids, Innkeeper was there to support their head and neck in the crook of their elbow. 

Gentle gasps left Traveler’s lips when Innkeeper scrubbed over a sore spot. Each time, Innkeeper would pause in their work to whisper soothing words or hum gentle music in Traveler’s ear. “It’s alright, my friend. I’m going to take care of you. This time, I won’t let you go.”

Traveler’s fever was starting to return. They had been in the water far too long, but the dirt was caked on so thick that Innkeeper hadn’t had a choice. Day one had ended. Innkeeper only had two more days before their friend's fate was decided. They knew all too well how important each second wasted could be.

Though they were still awake, Traveler couldn’t support themselves enough to sit in a chair while Innkeeper collected new clothes and changed the damp blankets on the bed. Innkeeper was forced to lay them out on the floor of their room to take care of what needed to be done. To save time, Innkeeper dressed Traveler in their own clothes rather than searching through their friend’s bags for some of theirs. 

Focused on their work, Innkeeper didn’t expect the rough, whispering voice that called out as they straightened the new blankets on the bed. 

“Where am I?”

“Hey, now. Don’t try to talk. You’re safe.” Innkeeper stumbled to Traveler’s side, nearly falling in their haste. “It’s just me. It’s Innkeeper. You’re very sick.”

“I don’t remember.” Traveler shivered as Innkeeper scooped them from the floor and into their arms. The fever had sunken its claws deep, and Traveler used the strength they had to bury themselves deeper against Innkeeper’s chest. “The wind must have stolen…”

“You and the silly wind.” Innkeeper chuckled, “Someday, when you’ve recovered, you'll have to tell me why you’re so certain the wind keeps stealing such important things from you.”

“It’s a song. A song. They taught me. My spouse would sing to me before they died. Am I— Am I going to… You were singing to me, too.”

“I was singing, yes. For now, just rest. I’ll sing for you more tomorrow if you’ll stick around to let me.” Innkeeper tucked Traveler deep into the clean blankets, “Rest, my friend. We’ll talk more when you’re well.”

[notsogreatpotoo]

my guy my girlboss my mushroom bud what ocs do you have please share them <3

hihihi i love u

this might be long as shit sorry

I will start with my son

Alder Scott is my OC for my hunger games fic (called Written In The Sand by nightjar_writing on ao3) and he is my child. I love him so much. He's a black kid from District 7 and his story starts when he is sixteen. He has a shit relationship with his parents but he absolutely adores his baby sister Ash, and he is really protective over anyone he gets attached to. He has a problem with interpreting or letting himself feel all of his emotions because he's often forced to repress emotions like anger and fear. I made a playlist for him. His only healthy coping mechanism is forcing himself to stop and take a few deep breaths every once in a while. He does embroidery. Reminders of his life and his trauma lurk around every corner. I have drawn him multiple times. Anything he does to escape leads him back down a parallel road. He's good at manipulating the Capitol but also gets manipulated pretty easily. He sucks at remembering names. He has so much trauma.

Emmet and Elliot are my time and dimension hopping self insert OCs. They're the characters I use to figure shit out; if I haven't written about a certain character, time period, fandom, AU, etc before (or in a while), I plop one of them into the world and see how their interactions go. Emmet is current me, hence the name, and tey came first as a way to cope with dysphoria. (Writing in third person about myself being gendered correctly helps bc I can't come out rn.) Elliot is child or teen me.

Dolohar currently lives in my head, but he's a trans man who became a god of irreversible change after being kidnapped and nearly sacrificed by a cult. The goddess the cult tried to summon was mistakenly called the goddess of blood, but she was actually the goddess of war, and she rescued him and gave him his godhood because she rarely has the chance to save innocents and she wasn't going to pass up the opportunity. Dolohar is brown with choppy black hair and eyes that appear orange in his more divine form. He's most commonly interpreted as a god of grief, and so he's associated with funeral flowers and mourning clothes, but he's scarred all over and some of his scars are visible no matter what he wears. A friend he had in his mortal life grows a bit too obsessive and starts a cult in his name, but Dolohar trusts his friend and doesn't realize this isn't normal god worship until after many people have been hurt.

I could make a whole post about a dormant WIP called Runaways and Soldiers, remind me to do that later bc that project has six main characters

Daisy also mostly lives in my head, but she's a trans girl in a coming of age romance story where she comes out to a guy she's been friends with basically forever and the more she starts to act more like herself around him the more he starts to fall for her. She loves blogging and playing video games.

Erch, Krit, and Seki all belong to the same story. Erch is a young human man who grew up in a militaristic organization as a recruiter in a world ravaged by radioactive aftereffects of a nuclear war. Mutations were common, but as someone born underground, Erch only has some adverse affects on his health. The underground was a mess of ongoing war and fortresses containing the super rich, but Erch was raised to believe that the organization was a safe haven that provides resources and work for all. It was only when he was a young teenager that his thoughts changed, because a girl with pointed ears and white freckles is rumored to have survived a white zone- zones that were the epicenter of nuclear impact, named for the blinding white flashes that occurred during detonation. He's sent on a suicide mission to investigate, and the girl presses a hand covered in light (aka, healing magic) to his uniform just before he leaves, which ultimately saves him from breaking down too soon. He discovers a portal in the white zone that leads him to a world in which elves, dwarves, and other mythical peoples are common, and while they are more resistant to radiation poisoning than humans, it is still affecting them to the point where all creatures living near the open portal take health potions or practice healing magic. Erch is then faced with a choice; does he risk condemning the world that he knows but one that is full of warlike, desperate, and corrupt people by closing the portal? or does he risk killing an entirely new world full of magic and people who have only shown kindness to him? It is at this time that he is taken in by Krit, a nonbinary goblin who was raised by a human witch a long time ago. Humans have become rarer and rarer ever since most of the portals between worlds closed, so Krit shields him from those who are too curious or obsessive about humans. Krit lives on the floor above their business (Taproot's Bar and Restaurant), but they're regularly harassed by dwarven customers (due to a series of wars that previously happened in the region called the Goblo-Dwarven Wars) and Erch doesn't want to add more stress to Krit's plate so he stays quiet about the portal situation and basically feels like he has to figure it all out himself until he has a breakdown one night and tells Krit, who reassures him that that's not the type of decision a child should have to make and a council made up of representatives from the surrounding regions eventually decide to close the portal after attempts to communicate with the humans on the other side end in attacks. As Erch grows up, he eventually becomes a vigilante type helper in his town after a corrupt leader is replaced by a pack of lycanthrope women. He's around thirty when he and Krit meet Seki, a young elf girl who was banished for becoming friends with a centaur (elves have hated the centaurs for centuries). Seki is chased into Taproot's after trying to pickpocket a group of dwarves (who also hate her on principle because the elves used to tax the dwarves) and she hides under a table. Krit is accused of hiding her on purpose when she comes out of the kitchen, the dwarves go to find the Guardian (aka, Erch), Erch finds Seki and returns the money to the dwarves, and Krit asks if Seki is hungry. Erch is wary of elves due to having a centaur friend who was killed by one, but once he hears Seki's story he no longer wants to turn her in and he bids them goodbye. Krit basically adopts Seki, and Erch eventually becomes a big brother figure to her and helps them sort out all the paperwork. Krit has never actually paid taxes. Erch is tired. Seki is glad to have a family.

Jasper Broadbank is a serial killer and amateur writer who swore off killing after becoming attached to his last target; he killed his fiance and now is reminded of that fact all the time because William Rexburgs's (his dead fiance's) family practically took him in after William's death (which they did not know he caused). He dies in a car accident after driving on icy roads, and the only ones who come to his funeral are the Rexburgs. He is guilt and manipulation and lying personified, and while his story needs a lot of editing since I wrote it my sophomore year of high school, it's a great example when showing how much better my writing is now.

Maxwell Anderson is a high school theater teacher by day, supervillain with a dramatic flair by night, and after finding out that his vigilante archnemesis is a child, he ends up parenting the boy from the sidelines while trying to execute his own plans and flirting with the boy's superhero mentor.

Nolan Cormier is part of an AU where the Avengers get a YouTube channel in order to control their image a little better and it butterfly effects the way for the Sokovia Accords to be thwarted before they're a big problem. Nolan is a marketing dude who works for Stark and gets caught up in their bullshit because he gets to know them through filming the videos and conducting interviews.

Ophelia Rousseau is a French woman who gets isekaied into the time right before the events of Phantom of the Opera and helps out Erik by writing an opera called cirque de l'éphémère, in which Honoré is a merchant who travels and sells his wares alongside a circus because it brings in the crowds, but falls in love with a beautiful acrobat in the show named Charlotte. Charlotte is the daughter of the strict old ringmaster, and she secretly longs to be away from the circus. When he confesses to her, she pretends to be in love with him to secure her freedom, and so they run away together and get married. Honoré notices that Charlotte has become distant and always wants to go out on trips and explore the world, and his insecurity turns him into a controlling, domineering type of husband. Charlotte, realizing that she has simply fled from one trap to another, tries to smuggle herself away in a chest he’s promised to another merchant, but she’s caught and poisoned to make a statement to her husband by the merchant, who thinks she’s been sent to trick him out of a good deal. Her body is sent back to Honoré, who is horrified to realize how he has driven her away and into more danger and slits his own throat. Basically, the opera forces Erik to confront his controlling attitude when it comes to Christine. Ophelia also is the reason why I know too much about enucleation, because her eye had to be taken out after an accident, and she wears an eye patch. She writes under the name Odin. She's a little pretentious, and a little standoffish, but mostly because she's never known how to act around other people.

thank u so much for this ask, if you ever want to hear more I will tell you, these are literally the OCs I could think of just off the top of my head bc I write a lot more fanfic than I do original fic but I have more lol

if you actually read this far you are the best :]

[yennefer-of-vengerbergs]

A little fun, as it were...

...or how Astarion and Syanna end up giving Bhaal the proverbial middle finger when they find an improvised altar for the god of murder.

Takes place in Act 3 (post The Pale Elf), and in terms of my own fics, after Confession (each can be read separately though)

Pairing: Astarion x f!durge

Explicit/18+

Read below or on Ao3

It had become a habit for them, looting a place of all they could carry and might prove valuable. After all, how was a merry band such as their own supposed to earn any money for the supplies  they needed for their adventure? So yes, any abandoned building was fair game for this, such as the one Syanna and Astarion found themselves in.

For all intents and purposes, it seemed like nothing special, simply another empty house just outside of Baldur’s Gate, whatever possessions inside, long forgotten. For the most part, that was the case, with the exception of a suspiciously locked room. Astarion in particular seemed equally pleased and intrigued by it and had set to picking the lock, wondering out loud what they might find there. Jewels? Gold? Jewels and gold?

“Realistically? Probably a corpse.”

“Oh come now darling, just because it happened before doesn't mean it will happen this time.”

Syanna grinned. “Fair enough. Two corpses then, for variety.” 

“How positively dark and tragic of you to assume my dear.I was thinking more in the lines of treasures.” 

She waved a hand at nothing in particular. “There could be. On the corpses.”

Astarion laughed, delighted by the joke, and continued picking the lock. “You truly do put the fun in funeral, darling.”

He did enjoy her humor, twisted as it was sometimes, one of the more subtle hints of her life from before, when the dark urge inside her mind would possess her and make her crave murder and violence. But that was now over, their only concerns left being to defeat the Absolute, cure themselves of the tadpoles and somehow survive the whole ordeal.

But first, loot.

A few more moments passed and the door was finally unlocked and opened. 

Syanna walked in first and groaned immediately. “Oh for fuck’s sake.” 

Astarion followed in and saw what had caused her reaction. An improvised altar for Bhaal, on the opposite side of the room. She assumed it was there from when the Bhaalist murders were occurring all over Baldur’s Gate and in its vicinity. 

It was no secret that neither of them had any kind of regard for the lord of murder, not after everything Syanna had been through. Her oh so loving father had gone as far as killing her when she had refused to become his chosen again.

So this was , quite frankly, insulting, as if someone was being petty at their expense, and it had immediately soured her mood. 

Astarion being Astarion, tried to make a joke. 

Making fun of father dearest would surely cheer her up, at least a little. “Well, I would rather we found the corpses, at least those might have had something valuable on them. Instead, we get nothing but poor decor.” He gesticulated around him, ending with pointing at the objects on the make-shift altar. 

No response.

He tried again. “I mean really, they couldn't pick a god with more taste to do this for? A bit of flair, is that too much to ask? A sense of style? Some actual offerings, not…whatever that is?”

Silence, still. She was staring at that altar, not understanding why, of all the things they could have found, they found this. It bothered her. It bothered her too much. She was free of his influence, her uncontrollable urges a thing of the past. Her mind, her choices were finally her own, and only her own. 

So why was this making her feel anxious, haunted even, as if she couldn't get away, as if Bhaal himself would continue to follow her, despite him tossing her aside in the first place, declaring he had no use for her if she refused and defied him at every turn?

She vaguely acknowledged Astarion moving closer to her, but seemed to snap out of her thoughts and actually look at him only once he was in front of her, gently taking one her hands in his own ones. 

“This is troubling you, isn't it?” 

“I…hm...” she paused for a few moments and then nodded. “I don't even know why it's bothering me so much to be honest.”

“Well, I think I would be just as livid if I saw someone had made an altar for the person that killed me, dear.” He frowned. “Urgh, can you imagine, an altar for Cazador?”

Her own frown deepened. “I would burn that down in a heartbeat if I ever saw one.” 

Truth be told, out of everything and everyone she had faced alongside her companions, she hated Cazador the most and would have been more than willing to inflict the worst death imaginable on him to keep Astarion safe. Even if death was almost too kind for that bastard after everything he had put her lover through. Almost. 

She paused again. “Let's just grab what we found so far and leave.” As tempting as it was to burn the whole place down just out of spite, it would attract too much attention, which they did not need while Gortash was still alive and in control of the city. They had already destroyed his Steel Watch from around the city, so a low profile was in order.

Astarion had different ideas though, mischief already showing on his face. “Now, let's not be hasty, I think there still is something we can do here. Have a little fun, as it were.”

“A little fun” for him could mean anything, from ‘let’s go kill people’ to ‘let's break into all the vaults in the Counting House” (coincidentally, Cazador’s vault was the first one they went to - the bastard was broke before they even had a plan to reach his palace and kill him). Hells, many times it also meant sex.

She raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh?” 

He waved a hand in the direction of the room itself, walked to the nearest object - an old urn, not too big, not too small - picked it up and pretended to study it for a moment. “Well, you cannot tell me this place is not in dire need of a bit of redecorating.” He then tossed the urn, letting it break on the ground.

Ah. Vandalizing it is then. She started walking around the room, playing along, pretending to look at everything critically. This would be fun. Astarion always had a way of making things fun. In a chaotic way, true, but she loved that about him. 

“You do have a point you know. Just look at how everything clashes here, ugh. It won't do at all.” She picked up a large bowl on the side and casually threw it to the ground. She did feel a little better as she did that, a small smile already forming.

“See darling, you always understand my vision for a place. Now let's see, what else…” 

*** 

The room was trashed. Broken bowls, urns and cups littered the floor. Chairs and small cabinets had been flipped over. Lamps were thrown and pushed carelessly. Finally, the bloodied bowl from the altar was thrown against the wall, the banners bearing Bhaal’s symbol ripped, candles had been shoved off and landed onto the floor, alongside all the other objects that were scattered across the surface of the altar. 

Syanna was laughing. It felt good to give Bhaal the proverbial middle finger like this. She walked over to Astarion and hugged him, her face nuzzled into his neck, still smiling to herself. She let out a sigh as he returned the embrace, his cheek resting on her head, enjoying the closeness. A few more moments passed until she moved slightly to look up at him, her hand reaching up to his face.

“Thank you for this.”

Astarion nodded, looking at her softly, a smile appearing on his lips, one hand slowly caressing her back, comforting her. 

“Anything for you, my sweet.”

Smiling, she stood on the tips of her toes and kissed him, trying to pour her all affection into it. 

It was poetic, really, how falling in love with a vampire had made her feel more alive than ever, and she never wanted to lose that. 

She broke away, giggling, as she felt Astarion's hands moving lower on her, until they both rested on her ass. He gave a playful squeeze once he heard her giggling, earning him a grin from her before she continued kissing him, slowly, lovingly, becoming more passionate as it continued, stopping briefly only when she needed air, but not moving away from him. She gave him a few quick pecks and finished by playfully nibbling his bottom lip, earning a small laugh from Astarion.

“And here I was thinking I was the only one who enjoyed the occasional nibble.” It was his turn to start trailing small kisses on her face, her mouth, slowly moving lower, until he reached her neck, where he paused and breathed her in before continuing to shower her with affection, adding his own playful nibbles in between kisses. 

It was an intimate, familiar and playful exchange between them, but one they both enjoyed greatly.

Her heartbeat, her breathing were already speeding up as he was doing this, giving away her enjoyment. One of her hands had already wandered up, into his curls, and gently scratched his scalp, earning a soft hum from him, while her other rested on his arm. He eventually stopped, straightened himself up, let his hands wander further down onto her thighs and lifted her up. He spun her around and walked over to the altar they had just vandalized, where he lowered her so that she was sitting on it. 

He pulled her into another kiss, one hand on her neck, slowly moving up, until he reached her ear, which he ran his fingers over, causing a shiver to run through her. Elf ears were always sensitive and erogenous, hers even more so from the piercings she had. Touching and caressing them was always a sure way to have her melt under his touch, soft hums escaping her lips. He stopped kissing her briefly, allowing her to catch her breath again, and returned his attention to her neck (another area that was delightfully sensitive for her), his other hand wandering lower down her body, tugging at her robe and at the belt around her waist. 

“Astarion…” she sighed. “Is this…” she inhaled sharply as he ran his fangs over her skin, careful not to draw any blood. Yet.

He paused for a moment and looked at her in a way that always made her melt. 

That look that always promised wicked things they would both enjoy and sometimes also experiment with (he knew it would always be safe to do so with her; that she would respect his boundaries; that she would always check with him to see if he was comfortable with things, while also not treating him as if he was made of glass - he loved her deeply for it)

“Alright?” He finished for her, his voice a whisper. He moved his other hand to her neck, cradling her with both hands and continuing to look her in the eyes.

She nodded, too caught up in simply looking at him, enjoying just being so close to him.

“It is, my dear.” he kissed the corner of her mouth, then looked into her eyes again. “As long as it is for you too.” He did realize she might not want to continue this here, not with how finding that altar made her feel at first. So he gave her the option to back out, to stop there, to return to their room at the Elfsong and continue there, if she wanted to. Just as she was always mindful of his own comfort, he would do the same for her.

She nodded as she looked at him through heavy eyelids, warmth spreading through her. “Please.” 

Already pleading for him, how deliciously tempting. He smirked and then swiftly removed her belt, her robe falling open. He moved on to the shirt underneath it, slowly unbuttoning it, his lips close to her face, teasing her with their proximity. Once he reached the final button, he moved to remove both her shirt and robe at the same time, but was met with resistance when he tried to slide them down her arms.

Ah. Those damn bracers she had on. 

She had the audacity to giggle at his struggle, a sound that was intoxicating almost, with how sensuous it sounded in the moment.

Frustrated, he stepped back slightly, took one arm into his hands, removed the offensive item as quickly and dexterously as he could and moved on to the other. Satisfied, he returned his attention to her robe and shirt, fully removing them, leaving her only with her bralette on to cover her chest.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, already wanting to feel him closer to her. She closed the distance further by kissing him again. He held her by the waist with one hand, while his other wandered to one of her breasts, cupping it and fondling it gently, slowly, while also tracing her nipple through the fabric. She arched her back into him, breaking the kiss, but feeling too caught up in all the other sensations she was experiencing: warmth slowly turning to heat as he lavished her with his attention, her breath quickening, her heart beating faster, a coil inside her slowly, oh so slowly starting to tighten as he continued touching her. 

He eventually moved back from her and lowered himself, removing her boots carefully, rubbing his thumb on each of her ankles as he did so. Then he raised himself, his attention focused on her trousers, unlacing and tugging at them eagerly, wanting to undress her fully. She moved to get off the altar, standing up, helping him as he finished undressing her. Once she was fully bare in front of him, he picked her up again, setting her back on the altar, kissing her soundly once more. It was her turn to start tugging at his clothes, impatient to just feel him against her, his cool skin against her warm one. She finally managed to get him out of his light armor and was unbuttoning the shirt he wore underneath it, growing more eager with each passing moment. Once that was off, she pulled him closer to her and ran a hand down his cheek, his neck, his chest, his stomach, simply enjoying the feel of him. She moved slightly, and began kissing his neck, delighted with the small noises he was starting to make. His own hands held her in place, not wanting her to move too far away from him. 

Not that she ever wanted to do that. No, she wanted him close, closer, as close as he could be. Her hand wandered lower, until she felt him hard under her touch, eliciting the most wonderful, breathy moan from him. Nothing loud, nothing performative and rehearsed, just his own, genuine reaction. She looked up at him as she continued her light caresses, his eyes closed and head hanging back slightly. She stopped, only to tug at his trousers, wanting to lower them. Gods, she wanted to feel him, all of him with every fiber of her being. Once freed, her hand returned to him, teasing his tip gently before running a finger along the hardened length, paying particular attention to the vein that traveled along it, earning a groan from Astarion. He then looked at her, lust already apparent on his face and in his eyes.

“You wicked little thing…” 

Syanna continued her teasing for a little while longer, enjoying the look on his face and the noises he made while her fingers continued to wander and trace along him. Then she wrapped them around him, a gentle grasp as she slowly moved her hand up and down, still looking up at him through her lashes. He was lost in her already, enjoying each one of her movements, each one of her breaths, each kiss she occasionally placed on his jaw, his lips, wherever she could reach. If it could beat, his heart would be quickening more and more from all the attention she was giving him. 

He placed his hand on hers, stilling her movements and moving it next to her, before grabbing her by the hips and pulling her closer to the edge of the altar. Before anything else, he undressed fully and then knelt in front of her, spreading her legs further, fully exposing her to him. He kissed the inside of each of her thighs, so, so close to where she wanted him, but not close enough. A small gasp escaped her lips when she felt his fangs grazing her skin, her leg twitching instinctively. She was looking at him, how smug he looked when his eyes met hers. 

“ May I? ” His voice was thick, a sweet whisper against her skin.

 And the things his voice did to her when he whispered something to her…

She shivered.

“...yes. Gods, yes, please…” 

He kissed the spot on her thigh one more time before he sank his fangs into it. She gasped, this time louder, feeling the familiar, sharp pain, which then faded into numbness, as was always the case when he fed from her. This, alongside the arousal she felt, were an exciting combination, each sensation complimenting the other for as long as he drank from her. 

Astarion stopped after a few exquisite, delicious moments, making sure to gather every last drop of blood from the marks he left on her skin. His attention then switched to her core as he mimicked what she had done to him earlier, and ran a finger along her clit, her folds, finally teasing her entrance, feeling how wet she was already. He heard her moan and sigh, and saw how she shifted, chasing his touch, wanting more of it, more of him . 

His face moved closer to her, teasing her with unspoken promises of what he had in mind to do to her. 

“Hmm, so needy already…” he ran his finger along her again, applying slightly more pressure, lingering on her swell for a moment longer. He teased and rubbed circles around it, drawing soft moans out of her. 

Then he stopped.

She couldn't help but whimper, already missing his touch.

“Astarion, plea- ahh…” she shivered as he used his tongue instead, teasing her clit and her folds before slipping it inside her, tasting her, then licking his way back up. He slid a finger inside her, enjoying the feeling of how soaked she was for him already. 

He looked up at her, not stopping once, seeing how she arched her back, head thrown back, one of her hands cupping her breast, toying with her nipple. 

He slid a second finger in her, listening to how her breath quickened and how her little moans and gasps continued to escape her mouth as he moved his fingers in and out, slowly, then quicker, then rougher. Her other hand found its way to his head, into his curls, slowly scratching again. Heat pooled inside of her more and more as he continued his ministrations, switching to a ‘come hither’ motion with his fingers, deep inside her, making her nearly see stars, while his mouth and tongue continued to place kisses, to lick, to gently suck on her clit, the bundle of nerves highly stimulated, throbbing, which only made her move her hips, wanting to lean more into him, to fuck herself onto his mouth and fingers. 

She groaned.

She moaned as she felt herself clenching around him.

She felt as if something in her would snap soon, wanting nothing more than that in the moment. 

She wanted the release that only he could bring her. 

“Please, please Astarion…” she couldn’t take it much longer. “Mmm…so close” she could barely think anymore, barely focus on anything else other than him and the way he was making her feel. 

He carried on, eager to bring her over the edge, until she was finally there, gasping, moaning as her climax washed over her, her body shaking and humming from the pleasure. She watched through heavy lids as Astarion removed his fingers from her and licked them clean, still wanting to taste her more than he already had.

“Hmm, delicious…” he sighed.

She smiled at that, just a hint of deviousness there. “Is that so?” 

Astarion, the wicked, smug man that he was, stood up and slipped his fingers inside of her again, wetting them once more, causing another shiver to run through her. 

“Would you like to see for yourself?” 

Gods, he was obscene sometimes. Still…

She nodded slowly and he brought his fingers up to her lips. She took them into her mouth, slowly sucking and licking them clean, looking at him as she did so.

“And, darling?” he smirked.

Smug bastard.

She got off the altar and pulled him into a kiss, rougher than the ones from before. She started moving them around so that their places were switched. She guided him so that he was leaning against the altar, and knelt in front of him, taking him in her hand again, moving it up and down along his length, so hard already. She then ran her tongue over his tip, tasting the precum that was already there, enjoying it alongside the sounds coming from Astarion. 

A groan left him when she took him in her mouth, her head moving as she welcomed him deeper and deeper, sucking and swallowing along his length, enjoying the feel of him in her mouth, thick and hard. Paying more attention to him, one hand was teasing and cupping his balls, while the other was resting on his thigh, only pausing when she needed to catch her breath. Even then, she moved her hand to grasp him again, moving slowly, firmly, bringing him closer to his own undoing with each stroke. Eager for him, she took him in her mouth again, a low moan in her throat when she felt his fingers in her hair, keeping her there, his own moans filling her ears, making her more and more aroused.

A small gasp left her when he pulled her head back, her mouth still open, wetness glistening on her lips. His other hand made its way under her chin, making her look at him. A shiver went through him at the sight of her, so flushed, so willing and ready for him.

“Come here darling.” he whispered, his voice deeper, thicker somehow.

She stood up, her eyes not leaving him as he took her hand in his, moving to lie down on the altar, beckoning her to follow.

She straddled him, but not yet taking him. She held him with one hand, pressed against her lower stomach, stroking him, teasing him, more precum leaking from him. He moved his hips, thrusting himself in between her hand and stomach, trying to urge her to take him in her, wanting to feel himself inside her heat. He placed his hands on her hips, squeezing, another attempt to get his point across.

Her hand left him for a moment as she leaned down to whisper in his ear.

“So impatient…”

He sighed.

“You cheeky little witch…”

She teased his earlobe, before she moved back up, taking him in her hand again and lined herself up with him. She sighed as she lowered herself on him, enjoying the fullness that she felt whenever he was inside her.

She placed her hands on his chest as she started moving her hips, riding him slowly at first, enjoying the feel of him inside her. How he held on to her hips. How his skin felt under her hands. How he looked at her, almost mesmerized by her, by how she moved her body to ride him, by how her breasts moved as she did so and by the sound of her breaths and moans. How he brought one hand up, cupping her breast, his fingers teasing her nipple. 

She brought one of her own hands up, placing it on top of his, keeping it in place, her movements growing faster, harsher. She felt Astarion thrusting up into her, skin slapping against skin, wet and lewd sounds becoming louder between them.

She could barely hold on anymore, barely stand straight, barely go another moment without feeling him fully against her own body. She dropped her hands down, one on each side of him, touching his face, his neck, his shoulders and leaned down, pressing herself as close as possible to his body. Astarion's arms immediately wrapped around her, holding her to him as he continued thrusting in her from below with more urgency. She kissed him, sloppily almost, as she continued meeting his movements with her own, feeling her climax building again, ready to snap the more Astarion fucked into her. They were both moaning and gasping the closer they got, with her clenching more and more around him.  

Astarion was first, unable to hold on anymore, thrusting harshly as he filled her up with his release, his hold on her tightening. Syanna moaned as he did so, chasing her own release, moving just as harshly, almost erratically, until she cried out his name as she came undone, her wetness gushing around him, mixed with his own cum.

She laid on top of him, still joined to him, her breathing labored, both of them too spent to move. She looked at him after a few moments, finding him with his eyes closed, a small, lazy, but content smile on his lips. The sight of him like that made her smile too. She placed a small kiss on his lips, making him open his eyes. He began stroking her back, making her sigh. She placed a hand on his cheek, looking into his eyes.

“I love you, my heart.”

He smiled at her.

“And I love you, my dear.”

Proverbial middle finger indeed.

[xbadgerbearx]

chapter 6: 9 lives

word count: 2k

Sonata in Darkness: [5] ... [7]

Finding Bruce Wayne at your place of work was rather surprising. You felt bad looking at him; he was a total mess after what the Riddler revealed to the public about his family. Although it seems like the Wayne’s deserved it, you still felt bad for the surviving Wayne. Before, you thought Bruce might have thought himself too good for the public—he was never out, never did anything with his money, didn’t do anything. Now, things were different. The way he interacted with you at the funeral changed everything. He was not above anyone; he treated you, someone who people like Falcone take advantage of, with respect and kindness. The assumption that he didn’t want to be out in the public because he was too good for anyone was wrong; you could see that he was just slightly awkward and introverted. ‘Maybe I’ll have to give him a call later,’ you thought. ‘But not right now. I have to find Selina.’

Selina was supposed to find Batman—she had thought of a plan that they could use to find Kenzie, so she was grabbing him. ‘Just don’t make any moves without me,’ Batman’s voice echoed in your head. You touched your lips as you remembered your kiss that you shared shortly after. As you were heading out of the building to meet Selina at the bat signal, you found her leaning against the alleyway outside of the building. She was fuming.

“He’s not there,” she shouted, frustrated. “I’ve waited for hours—he never showed!” 

“Maybe he’s just busy—“

“I say we do this without him,” she decided. “Probably easier too. That asshole has to pay now.”

Honestly, you thought that you really should wait for Batman. “Selina,” you said gently, hoping to calm her down. “Remember what happened last time? At the recycling plant?” Selina arched her brow. “Last time we did something without him, we almost died.”

“Yeah, well, you live and you learn. So what, you backing out too?”

“No—“

“Then come one, let’s go. I’ve already thought up an alternative plan while I was waiting for the dick to show up.”

You found yourself back into the club and applying a fresh swipe of lipstick as you approached the 44 Below entrance. Kenzie was there guarding the door, eyes already on you and staring hungrily. 

“Hey, sugar,” he greeted cheerfully. “Haven’t seen you for a while. You working tonight?”

“No, I just got off,” you giggled. “I was hoping on catchin’ a ride home…”

“Well if you need a ride, I can pay a taxi for—“

“…with you.” You batted your eyes and picked at his sleeve. “Please?”

Whatever internal battle Kenzie had with himself was short lived because he gave in rather quickly. “Ah, what the hell. Just let me grab my keys and ask one of the guys to take my place. I get off in 15 minutes anyways.” He returned to you, eagerly. “Let’s go, baby.”

Taking his hand, he followed as you led the way. He was getting rather handsy. The twin bodyguards let out a whistle as they saw you leave with Kenzie; you flashed them a smile. The alley was pretty dark—no street lights—and you were gonna ask him something before he suddenly pushed you against the wall.

“I don’t think I can wait that long,” he huffed. “I’ve been eyeing you for a loooong time now. Be a good girl and—“ His feet slid back from beneath him, causing him to drop to the ground hard. He let out a wheeze.

“What—!”

Before he could make another remark, you quickly covered his mouth and wrapped your arm around his neck. You only let up once he passed out. 

“Nice job,” Selina complimented while coming out of the shadows. She was retrieving her chain from around his legs. You shrugged and started going through his pockets. A watch, his phone, his gun, another phone—wait…

“Selina, I think this is your phone.”

“What? Give it here,” she demanded before immediately grabbing it from you. She swiped on it for a few seconds before letting out a chilling cry. “I—oh my god. She called me! Annika called me!” Crying, she clutched her phone to her chest. You had to pry her fingers away so you could grab it back. Pressing play started a horrifying voicemail.

“Help,” Annika pleaded into the phone before a man yelled at you to get back. 

“Hey, hey, what’re you doin’, Kenzie? You’re scaring her.” It was Carmine Falcone. You paused the recording. 

“I really think we should wait for Batman,” you told her.

“Play it.”

“Selin—“

“I said play it, goddamnit!” 

Staring at her, you thought for a moment. “Not here,” you said slowly. “We’ll listen to it but not here.” Selina nodded curtly after a while. “Help me with him, would you?”

Selina tied him up with some zip ties that she had brought and you both heaved him onto your motorcycle—not before she took his gun, of course. You handed Selina her phone, which you were sure she listened to on the way to the bat signal given the tears going down her face. She helped you carry him into the elevator, albeit rather roughly, and dropped him onto the ground by the ledge. You turned on the light to signal Batman hoping that he would see and put on your catsuit that Selina brought with her. She was already in hers.

You sat against the building near the elevator; you were waiting for Kenzie to wake up or for Batman to show up—whichever came first. Your phone buzzed once in your pocket. Fishing it out, you saw a text from an unknown number. 

Hey, it’s Bruce.

You totally forgot to text him with everything going on. Under better circumstances, you would have loved to talk to him; you’re a little busy at the moment. Kenzie was still down though, so you tapped your finger on the keyboard as you replied. 

Hey… How’re you doing? You feeling alright?

I’ve been better.

Sorry about earlier, I was a total mess.

It’s okay!

Don’t worry about it, I’m sure there’s enough on your plate

Yeah, haha.

I was thinking maybe we could meet up sometime?

I really need a break, it would be nice to relax after everything that’s happened.

Coffee, lunch, or dinner? Your pick.

Bruce Wayne asking you out? Say it ain’t so! As you thought up a reply, Kenzie soon woke up dazed. He groaned as he sat up. Quickly pocketing your phone—and leaving Bruce on read—you stood up and made your way to the man.

“Get on your knees,” you ordered. He spat at your feet so you kicked him hard in the ribs. “Now!” He let out a pained wheeze as he shuffled into position. 

Everything was rather quiet as you waited. Kenzie’s labored breath and the bustle of the city were the only things you could hear as you stared at the bat-shaped light in the sky. Your phone buzzed once again after a while, but you couldn’t check it as you were watching Kenzie. Selina, however, was growing in frustration, gun in hand.

“What do you want? Please, don’t—“

“Shut up,” Selina shouted as she punched him from under his chin, causing him to reel his head back. She let out her anger by assaulting him, causing him to cry out. This lasted for a while before the sound of the elevator stopping to open caused you to turn around. Batman, as well as a police officer—whom you recognized as Gordon from the funeral—marched out. You stood by Kenzie, waiting. A memory of you  flashed in Batman’s mind; ‘So anytime I want to see you I just need to light that bad boy up?’ He was hoping you would have called him for a different reason…he also understood why you never texted him back.

“I found him,” Selina called out as she gave him a kick that made him bend over.

“I see that.” Batman’s guard was up.

“He had my shit and my phone. She left a message the night they took her. She called me—“

“—Gordon! Help me out, man! She got my gun!”

“Shut up,” you ordered as you smacked the back of his head. Selina aimed the gun at him.

“Put the gun down.”

“I’m telling you, god damn it! She called me,” Selina yelled at Batman. When he didn’t relent, she pulled the gun away and fished out her phone. “Listen.”

“Help—“

“Hey, get back here! Where are you going? Come back here!” Annika cried into the phone.

“Hey, hey, what’re you doin’, Kenzie? You’re scaring her.”

“I’m—I’m sorry, Mr. Falcone—“

“—Please, please, please,” Annika begged. “Please don’t hurt me, please.”

“Hey, don’t be scared,” Falcone assured. “Come here.” Batman and Gordon leaned in closer, listening. A tear fell onto your cheek as you covered your mouth in silent horror. “Now let me ask you again. What did Mitchell tell you?”

“No—nothing. He—“

“Don liked to talk, I know that. Especially to pretty girls like you. That’s why I made him take your passport, until we could have this little…conversation.”

“All I want to do is get out of here, okay?” Between Annika’s voice trembling and her thick accent, it was a little hard to hear. “You’ll never hear from me again, nobody will, please—!               

“We’re gonna get you outta here, I promise,” Falcone raised his voice in frustration. “But first, I gotta know…what did he tell you?”

“He…he just said that they all made a deal with you.”

“Oh,” he hummed. “He told you about that, huh? The deal?”

“He said you gave some information on some drops thing, and that’s how he became mayor. He said that you were a very important man.”

“Right,” he hummed again. “Okay.” Annika’s piercing scream filled the air. More tears fell from your eyes as you could hear her struggling. “Just take it easy.”

“Jesus, he’s strangling her,” Gordon said. A few more seconds of tussling played until the phone call ended. Batman was deep in thought.

“Rata Alana,” he said. “A falcon has wings, too.”

“Falcone is the rat?” Gordon asked. The men looked at Kenzie. Walking up to him, Gordon asked, “Falcone works for you guys? The mayor? The D.A.?”

Kenzie swallowed. “No,” he sighed shakily. “We work for him. Everybody does.”

Batman asked, “How?”

“Through Renewal. Renewal is everything.”

“The Renewal fund?” Gordon pressed.

“Yeah. After Thomas Wayne died, they all went after it like vultures. The mayor, Falcone, Maroni. Everyone got in on it. It was perfect for making bribes, laundering money—a huge charitable fund with no oversight. Everybody got a piece.” Kenzie took a labored breath before continuing, “But Falcone wanted more. So he orchestrated a play to take Maroni down big. He’d rat out his drops operation, make the careers of everybody that went after him, then install them all as his puppets.” Batman looked at you. “You think this goddamn election matters? Falcone’s the mayor. Has been for the last 20 years.”

“Come on, Vengeance,” Selina said. “Let’s go kill that son of a bitch…this creep too—“ you put your hands on Kenzie’s shoulders to hold him still. “—let’s finish this.”

“No!” Batman knocked the gun out of Selina’s hand. She readied herself for a fight. “We’ll get him. But not that way.”

“There is no other way,” you finally said. “He owns the city! Did you not hear him?”

“Cross that line, you’ll become just like him.” Batman’s gaze shifted from Selina to you. His eyes pleaded as he said, “Listen to me. Don’t throw your life away.” His attention went back to your feline partner as she studied his face. Her composure suddenly changed to a relaxed one; you knew what was about to happen. Batman was not with you.

“Don’t worry, honey,” Selina said as you rested your foot onto Kenzie’s chest. You smiled at him as she said, “I got nine of them.” Instantly, Selina shoved Batman away letting you kick Kenzie off the building. Both men lurch forward to save the falling man, letting Selina grab the fallen gun. Batman’s harpoon gun quickly fires around his ankle, allowing the men to pull him up. As they were distracted, you and Selina ran to some wires that were used to pull a crane, sliding down them gracefully. You could hear Kenzie screaming. 

Already speeding away on your motorcycles to the club, you couldn’t see Batman chasing you down the building.    

================================================

[berrystiles]

Take Me Back To The Night We Met

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word Count: 10.2k words

Content Warning: Major Character Death, explicit language, a lot of angst, underage drinking, mentions of depression and grief.

Summary: Set after season 4. In that final battle Steve sacrifices himself so everyone else can live, leaving you behind to reflect on various points in your relationship and how the hell you’re supposed to live in a world without him.

Author’s Note: Inspired by the song “The Night We Met” by Lord Huron. No use of y/n. This is my first time ever doing a Steve fic, or even a reader pov fic so please be kind. I am also so so so sorry for this. I cried writing it, but I just couldn’t get the idea of my head. My friend is the one who convinced me to post this. I didn’t really have anyone else look over this so any issues are my own and I guess just let me know if you see anything that needs fixing!

Ao3 Link - in case you would prefer to read it there.

I am not the only traveler

Who has not repaid his debt

After what will later be called the end. When the ash from the Upside Down stops falling. When the sky is no longer coated in red. When the nightmare sound of lightning and the ground shaking doesn’t wake you up. You stand at the end and somehow you are still alive. However, it doesn’t feel like you won anything. This isn't the victory you envisioned when you sat in Hopper's cabin and talked strategy with your friends, most of whom still haven't even finished their first year of high school. You weren't stupid, you didn't walk into this final battle naively thinking that all of you would walk away. You've been too deep into this Upside Down shit, lost too many good people, to think that no one in that room was next up on the list of funerals you'd be attending. It's just, that this outcome, the one that you're standing in now was never really an outcome you allowed yourself to think about. You'd picture your death sooner than face this.

Your friends, the ones that made it at least, stand around you. Each of them wrapped up in their own state of being, each of them coming to terms with what should be the last piece of this seemingly endless battle. Nancy and Mike are tucked away in their corner of this field you all have managed to meet up in. They look more like the siblings they are supposed to be than you have ever seen them. If you were fully present, the sight might startle you due to how infrequently you see them in a moment like this, wrapped up in one another. Lucas stands to your left, and you can hear him taking in heaving breaths. If you were to turn your head and make some sort of movement to check on him, you'd see Max standing beside him with her hand in his.

Moving is too much though, especially when directly in front of you are Robin and Dustin. They cling together, dirt and ash covering their faces, their hair a mess. They stand in what should be a hug of celebration, one that should remind you of another time, a better outcome. This hug isn’t for comfort, there's nothing to celebrate. Instead, it’s muffling the sound of sobs, ones that shake Dustin's whole body and remind you so much more of Eddie's loss months ago, but somehow worse. You should be moving toward Robin and Dustin. You should be joining in the wailing, after all the loss they mourn is yours too. But all you feel is that same cold numbness that you have been carrying around for the last hour of this battle. You couldn’t stop, you didn't have a moment to even- you can't think that.

Can't focus on what you couldn't do because if you do... If for just a moment you allow yourself to be back in that space and at that time, you are not sure if you'll be able to leave.

There is a passing thought, so brief, that maybe you got this wrong. Maybe you didn’t survive this at all. It is a big maybe but somehow, it’s easier to think that maybe you are just a ghost in these moments. That you paid your debt back to the universe and it’s giving you a minute to see who survived. A parting gift before you join him and everyone else, but mostly him.

It is as that thought enters and settles that you think you can breathe again. The air that hasn't been able to get into your lungs feels possible. Which should make you laugh because if you are dead then you don't really need that breath, do you?

Still, it’s easier to believe you didn’t survive. That your friends are crying over your loss too. It's an outcome you could make peace with. Because if it's true then you won’t have to live in a world without him. Having to imagine that this next part is where you are supposed to figure out how to survive? Impossible. Not without him.

But then someone’s hand is on your shoulder. The weight of it is heavy and you feel that breath leave you because you can feel it, the pressure of the hand. Another person whispers your name, and that picture you briefly created loses shape. Any hope you had that you’d be joining Steve Harrington in whatever existed on the other side is shattered.

You feel your resolve break, and someone is screaming. The sound is guttural. It's deafening in a way that makes you think of El and makes you see windows shattering with the power behind it. You want to cry for this person because they lost someone like you. There's a deep sympathy that runs through you for them. It's only as someone grabs you, your legs giving out because of that shattered concept that you did live through this again. It is as you fall that you register there isn't anyone else screaming, it's just you.

Take me back to the night we met

October 1984, Halloween

You knew Steve Harrington long before you knew what a Demogorgon was or that the Upside Down existed. The perk, or downfall depending on who you were, of living in a small town like Hawkins is that you've been in school with Steve since the beginning. He may be a year older than you, but your paths still crossed, even in the elementary school playground. However, despite that you and Steve weren't friends, you were nothing but passing ships. Despite knowing him, you didn't register him and had no real reason or desire to if you were honest. The night you finally did take note of Steve Harrington as more than just a self-proclaimed king of your high school was Halloween 1984.

As usual, Tina is throwing a party. Another day when her parents are long gone from Hawkins and her need for popularity demands that teenagers should enter her home and destroy it. It's not the first party Tina's thrown this year and it sure as hell will not be the last. You may not be on Tina's level of popularity, but you do okay socially. Your friends have demanded to make an appearance at the party. The idea of passing up free beer, and the chance to catch the attention of whoever their recent crush is too much to pass up on. 

As usual, they drag you along, and it is fine. Because while you may not have the same motivation as them to attend you do love Halloween. You are too old to trick or treat, so at least this is a chance to dress up and have fun. After all, these are the best years of your life, as your mom continues to remind you. So, you took the time and went as Jo from The Facts of Life. Which honestly was one of your favorite shows, only to have your friends all ditch you by the end of the night. Which also meant, you were stuck walking home... alone.

As annoyed as you are, you are also the one that after a cup or two of whatever that punch was, was pushing your friends toward the boys they had been eyeing all night. Let it be known, you were a good friend you thought to yourself as you started walking towards the door. Plus, you're also a little thankful for some of the alcohol still coursing through you because, at the very least, it's giving you the warmth you need to push outside and make the trek home.

As you’re breathing in the fresh air, finally free from the cigarette smoke inside, you hear the signs of someone else taking in deep breaths. Curiosity will always be your downfall, at least that's what your grandma tells you, but so what you like to know what's going on.

You look to your left and you are surprised to see Steve Harrington. Not that you thought he wouldn’t be here tonight or something. After all, you had seen him earlier though he seemed much happier then. What is surprising was that Steve was swiping at his face like he was trying to wipe tears away. But that would be impossible because you had a bet going with Robin Buckley from band that Steve didn’t have feelings. This new development meant you were going to be ten bucks short the next day at school if you decided to share what you saw.

Maybe it’s the alcohol or the surprise, or maybe you are just a good person. Whatever it is has you stepping towards him. “Are you okay?”

He’s obviously not, but you are kind enough to give him an out, and maybe you’re hoping he’ll take it. You didn't sign up to be the one comforting King Steve, but there's just something so depressing about a boy caught crying to himself outside of a party. Not that you had much experience with the picture before you, but this was feeling depressing. Steve must be surprised by your question too because your voice makes him jump, and he's coughing like he wasn't just crying.

"Me? No yeah, I'm fine, totally fine." You find yourself raising a brow and the alcohol has you feeling bold. "That sounds like a load of bullshit," Steve frowns at you, his mouth opens, and you are pretty sure he's about to start arguing with you. But you press on because you haven't let a man talk over you before and you're not starting tonight.

"However, despite it sounding like bullshit I will refrain from further questioning." You pause a moment before smiling in what is probably coming off as less charming and more chaotic, "You're welcome!"

You don't hesitate after that, you have done your due diligence, and you are free to go in your opinion. You are hoping down the front steps of Tina's house when Steve calls after you, and you're surprised he knows your name. So surprised that you miss the last step and tumble to the ground.

"Shit!" Steve yells out and you stare at the sky, the stars look nice tonight you think as you hear Steve approaching. "Are you okay?" The original question of this whole exchange is now turned on you, and you can't help but chuckle because this is so stupid.

You, partially tipsy and laying in Tina's yard, and Steve fresh from crying asking if you're okay as he hovers over you. "I'm cool," you assure him as you go to sit up. "Isn't the first time I've fallen and knowing my luck it won't be the last." You're thankful for your costume which has layers that took the brunt of it all, and the grass in Tina's yard that softened the rest of your fall.

You dust yourself off and it's in your peripheral that you see Steve is still hovering. You heave a sigh, and it probably comes off like you're exasperated at his mere presence, but for once that's not how you mean it. "Steve, really I'm okay stop looking at me like you just tried to mortally maim me or something." It's enough to get him laughing now, and you try to hide your smile because you can't be so easily charmed by Steve Harrington, you won't allow yourself.

Except then he's asking you if you're driving home, and you're not going to lie to him. So, you tell him about your plans to walk since your ride took off about an hour ago. Steve scoffs at the idea of you walking home and mutters what sounds like a remark about your clumsiness making the act of walking home impossible. Then he's walking away, and calling back to you, again using your name which you're still confused by, and telling you he's going to take you home. You think maybe the fall gave you whiplash or something because this all feels just too much. However, the alcohol is wearing off and you're cold and a little achy from your fall. So, with no fight and without trying to pretend you don't need his help you're climbing into his car.

The car ride is quiet at first, just small questions from Steve so you can direct him where to go. The heat is on, and you hold your hands in front of the vents. Steve takes a right at your direction, and it's silent again but not for long. "Um, can I ask a question?" You stop yourself from being cheeky and responding that he did just ask a question. "Sure," makes its way out of you instead and later you'll be proud of yourself for sounding so calm as you said it.

"Do you think if someone says something to you when they're drunk, they mean it?" You look over at him, his hands clinch the steering wheel, and he actively avoids looking over at you. Tomorrow the pieces of this puzzle will slot together, and you'll recognize this question as a driving force behind what had upset him earlier. For now, though you don't catch the connecting pieces. Instead, you hum and think to yourself, really rolling over the question before providing your answer.

"You probably won't like this answer, but I have to say I don't have a lot of experience with that situation." You pause, collecting all the scattered thoughts, "But I think that maybe they do?" You wish you sounded surer, but really, you're just not. "I guess it depends on the person, but at its core alcohol lowers inhibitions that's why people do stupid shit. Maybe it lowers the walls enough for people to be honest, even if they don't mean to be so... well I guess mean about it."

You spare another glance his way. You catch Steve nodding along to your words, something in them must be what he was looking for, or maybe he was just afraid of accepting them. But all he says is, "Thanks." It's the last thing he says as he pulls into your driveway, and you're again confused because you never said which house was yours. Your brows scrunch together, as you climb out of his car. You go to shut the door, but another pause, and you dip your head back into the warm car. "Steve," he finally looks at you, a surprised look taking over, "whatever was said, maybe just ask the person about it before you get too stuck in that head of yours." You smile, and he manages to match the look, his eyes are soft as he stares at you. "Thanks for the ride, Harrington." You close the door before he can reply and skip to your door.

When the night was full of terrors

Junkyard, November 1984

You don't talk to Steve Harrington again after Halloween, and maybe it's for the best because the whole experience just felt unreal to you. Hawkins is still Hawkins though and you see Steve sure enough, and you don't take offense when he doesn't acknowledge you. The rumor mill at the school tells many versions of Steve and Nancy's fight at Tina's party. You keep quiet about the parts of the puzzle that you walked into as you were leaving. It's not your story to tell, and honestly, it's Steve and Nancy's business when it comes to what happens next.

So, you move on with your life like the whole car ride home thing never happened. You keep your ten dollars, and never tell Robin about how Steve Harrington is capable of human emotion. It's your secret now, and you'd rather keep your money. Steve Harrington and you will only ever have that moment on Halloween, or so you think. Instead, the world has other plans for the pair of you.

Later you'll look back on this night as one of the dumbest decisions you have ever made, but in the moment, it felt like a good option. Your bike, the literal only means of transportation you have, has decided enough is enough and it's putting up a permanent strike and the bike chain it needs to function is breaking. You're pissed and frustrated because this means you either need to pay for a new bike, pay for a stupid part that will be way overpriced, or you're stuck walking everywhere.

You choose option number four, which is walking to the junkyard and just finding a piece you can salvage. You're positive there will be some old bike that you can take a part from, no one will miss it after all. It'll save you some money and will be a quick solution to your problem. In theory, it’s a great plan. The issue is that you can't let go of this idea which leads you to the junkyard right as the sun is setting. It's going to be a chilly night, and the fog is already rolling in making it hard to see. Which isn't great because the junkyard on its own is already a creepy place to be, but tonight it's weirder and it smells like gas. You wander around, muttering to yourself about finding a bike quickly and potentially running home.

You're moving close to the bus because some bikes seem to be stacked up near it when you hear a growl from somewhere in the woods. Indiana is not supposed to have deadly creatures lurking in the woods you remind yourself, but still, you turn around. The damn fog has only gotten thicker though, and you can't see shit. Someone grabs your arm and yanks you back, you go to scream but their other hand clamps over your mouth. "It's okay, you're safe," the voice tells you but that's what all kidnappers say you think, so you lick the hand covering your mouth, which is enough for them to drop it.

You don't plan to die without a fight, so you're quick to turn around and punch your assailant, however, your fist stops midair because your supposed kidnapper is none other than Steve Harrington. He wipes his hand on his jeans a disgusted look on his face, "Steve?" You look around and take note that you're in a bus, a bus that has three pre-teens also inside of it. "Is this some weird kidnapping thing, because I'm not okay with this." Steve looks up at you quickly, "What? No, what the fuck?"

Once you are assured that the kids are there of their own free will and this isn't some wild ploy to sell you on the black market or kill you, you start to settle down. You take a seat next to a kid who introduces himself as Dustin and immediately wants to know how you know Steve. "Feels like the wrong question to be asking, dude." Steve sighs and it sounds like this line of questioning is one he's been dealing with all day.

It's an opening though, and you explain your presence in the junkyard, and while they are all hesitant, they do tell you why they are all huddled inside of the bus. You don't get it, something about other worlds and monsters and people with powers. It all goes over your head, and you're pretty sure this is some elaborate prank, and you don't really have the patience for it all. You're about to yell, about to stomp right out of that bus, when the kid they called Lucas yells out that there's something outside. Steve and the other two kids are at the window peering out before you can even respond, and the curiosity kicks back in and sweeps out all the anger you had building up.

You slide in next to Steve and peer out into the night. Everything changes after that, because suddenly the monsters are very very real and very much trying to eat you. And Steve Fucking Harrington, just waltzes on out into the night like he's fucking invincible. It's all so ridiculous, but you're in it now and even when you have the chance to walk away you just can't. When you think about doing it you think of Steve and the way that bat twirled around. You think of these stupid kids you don't even know, and you just can't walk away. You say as much and start to head off in the direction of these things they all plan to chase.

The night is a blur after that, finding Nancy and Jonathan. Getting taken to the Byers and learning that the police chief is aware of this all too. Meeting the one with powers, who is also a kid, and was thought to be dead. You couldn't make it up if you tried, and you're not sure you want to. Once everyone is split up, Steve and you are left with the kids. You try to be helpful, but this just doesn't feel like enough.

When the kids get the idea to go into the tunnels you find yourself siding with them, but Steve is so stupidly adamant that no one is leaving the house. He looks like such a mom at the moment, and more of this picture of who you thought Steve was shatters. There's no more arguing though because Billy Hargrove is suddenly showing up and it's an all-out brawl. You're thankful your dad taught you how to fight. It comes in handy tonight because while Steve might have been doing well in the beginning, he's slowly lost his leg in this whole thing.

You'll be damned if you just let Hargrove kill Steve, not when you're just starting to finally like the guy. So, you do what your dad taught you and you land a punch of your own, just enough to distract him. Enough to lead him away from Steve. So, what if there's also some satisfaction in making the hit? Hargrove has been a dick since he showed up and you don't feel sorry for hitting him. You do however start to regret those actions once Hargrove makes it clear that he doesn't care that you're a girl, he'll gladly turn you black and blue if you're in his way. Billy starts to make his way towards you, when suddenly Max is plunging a syringe into his neck, and any momentum he had just takes him down to the ground even harder.

You'd love to say you kept up with Steve's mothering ways while he was passed out, but you were all too happy to pile into the car with the kids. The issue is you don't know how to drive Billy's car, it's a stick and you only know automatic at this point, which left Max as the only option. Her driving leaves little room for comfort. There are no other words to describe it except for wild and terrifying, and yet, it led you closer to Steve which led you directly to your happiest points it just took some time to get there.

Because after that night in November your life changes, but then it also doesn't. You're let into this whole other world, all the dirty secrets that Hawkins has been hiding over the last year are now known to you. Despite everything you saw and did, you still have to show up to school on Monday and pretend like nothing has changed.

You spend your days smiling with friends, keeping this huge secret from them, and then your nights are spent lying awake and being a little haunted by those monsters in the tunnels. You close your eyes and instead of running around you and Steve, they rip you apart. You always wake, gasping for air, and spend the rest of the night staring at your ceiling. You don't know who to talk to, because honestly, you're not friends with Nancy or Jonathan, and they weren't there when it all happened anyway.

Most of the people that were there are still children, pre-teens sure, but still not responsible for being your outlet. The only option left is Steve, but there's this overwhelming weight that settles in your stomach when you think of approaching him. Because things with Steve are weird after that night. You have memories and imprints of him holding on to you, you helped him clean and bandage up his face, and the last time you really slept was with your head on his shoulder as you all waited for everyone to return to the Byers' house that night. When it was all said and done, once he was back at his car, he gave you a ride home, smiled at you, told you goodnight, and then he was gone.

You spent that weekend wondering if when Monday rolled around Steve Harrington would even acknowledge you. Or maybe just like Halloween, this was just a brief moment that the two of you shared that you will never talk about again.

When Monday did come, he didn't ignore you, but he didn't approach you either. He smiles at you from across the hall, raises his hand, and gives a little wave. Your friends spend the rest of the day asking you about the small moment, and all you can do is shrug because you're not sure how to label it.

So no, you don't approach Steve about your nightmares. Steve and you are small waves in the hallway, passing smiles, and deep secrets that neither of you even mentions. You wonder sometimes, as you stare at your ceiling if he's stuck awake and thinking about this weird cycle the two of you seem stuck in.

The cycle keeps going, until the Snowball dance, where somehow you got roped into borrowing your parents' car and taking Max to the dance. It's there as you're saying goodbye and throwing up two thumbs up that you see Steve sending Dustin off through the doors. Maybe it's the distance or the fact that you're both alone again, but you gather your courage and do something different. You call his name, you both smile, and you ask if he's hungry.

From that night on, Steve and you are more than passing glances in a hall. The two of you are weekly dinners at a diner on the edge of town, you are night drives and late phone calls, you are movie nights, and the additional babysitter to the pre-teens. It's a new cycle, one that your other friends don't get, and you don't know how to explain, but it's a cycle you love being stuck in.

I had all and then most of you

Summer 1985

Time moves on from winter to spring, and when summer finds you it's easy to think that last fall was the last time you have to worry about being anything other than seventeen. Somehow through it all, in a move that no one saw coming, Steve Harrington worms his way into your life and somehow becomes your best friend. It turns out that when he isn't pretending to be something he's not, when he's not worried about carrying the crown that was placed on him by his peers, Steve Harrington is all too easy to be friends with.

In the months following the Snowball Dance, the two of you spend an enormous amount of time together. You do end up confiding in him about your nightmares, and he shares about his. It's the two of you, and sometimes it’s also just the dynamic duo of being the babysitters of all the pre-teens, that are suddenly just teens. You have inside jokes, and the teasing nature of your conversation becomes more fond than annoyed.

So yeah, when summer rolls in and Steve is forced to find a job after he graduates, you're right beside him for moral support. He lands a spot at Scoops, and you're a couple of stores down working at Camelot Music. You spend the summer riding back and forth together when your schedules line up. Breaks are spent skipping into Scoops and watching as Steve continuously strikes out with what seems like the total female teen population in Hawkins. It helps that your friend from band, Robin, is also working there so you both get to tease Steve together. On days off the two of you are still spending time together most of it trying to escape the heat by swimming in his pool or taking small drives out of town and trying to see something new.

And it's fine, really. You have nothing to complain about.

Except... for a tiny little thing. It's the middle of summer, and you're about 90% sure you're in love with Steve Harrington. The same Steve Harrington who is your best friend, the same best friend who definitely does not feel the same way you do, so... that is kind of a problem.

It's just difficult. Because in the same way that it was so easy to be friends with him, it is even easier to love Steve Harrington. You're not sure if anyone has ever told him that before, given what you know you would wager no one has. And as much as you want to tell him, as much as you want him to stop chasing after all these girls who can't even see him, you are not willing to lose him. Because that's the other thing that you are almost positive of. If you tell him how you feel there is no way to come back from that moment.

So, you sit in the back room with Robin, the window open so you can see Steve in the front. You watch him flirt with girl after girl. Watch Steve smile and joke and laugh and pretend like your whole stomach isn't churning with jealousy. You sit in his passenger seat, windows rolled down and radio on, and try not to stare at the way he smiles at you when you sing along. You make great efforts not to just sigh in what you’re sure would sound like love when you watch him mother hen these teens that have somehow become both of yours. Again, it's all fine you repeat to yourself as you watch the gang of teens push their way past Steve as he sneaks them into the back hallway so they can get into a movie. You feel like maybe if you repeat it's fine enough eventually it will be.

When Dustin returns and shares the radio interception with you and Steve, things start to take a drastic turn away from fine. Apparently, it is too much to think you can just be seventeen when you live in Hawkins. The only difference between now and last fall is that you're dealing with Russians instead of monsters, and you get pulled in right at the beginning, instead of just stumbling into it all. At first, it's fun, you come in on your breaks, and when you're done for the day, you help where you can. You get a good laugh out of both Dustin and Steve mistaking the pig Latin for Russian. It's easy in those beginning moments to feel like the whole plot all of you are working on uncovering is so far away from Hawkins. You feel safe.

You feel safe at least until you're passing a quarter to a frantic Steve, and you learn that the Russian plot is a lot closer to home than you thought.

Your guard starts to go up after that moment, but you're not backing out now. That night when Steve drives you home, after dropping off Dustin he pauses in your driveway and tells you that you don't have to help. You would take offense to it if it wasn't for the way his eyes were all soft as he looked at you. Maybe there would have been a biting comment, but he's picked up your hand, fingers are intertwined together and you're more stuck on how well his hand feels in your own to start a fight.

You take a deep breath, swallow down your feelings, and give what is probably a shaky smile, "You're stuck with me, Harrington. I won't scare away that easily. What are a couple of Russians compared to weird deadly monsters?" Your question gets the exact response you wanted, a quick and cheeky grin that is all Steve and means trouble you've learned. "That's true," his voice is low despite it just being you two in his car. His eyes glance at your hands, still together, and he gives yours a squeeze. "Don't tell Henderson, but if I had to uncover a secret Russian plot you would be my first choice, Bee."

It's not the first time you've heard him use the little nickname he has for you, but just like the first time it causes your stomach to do a full turn and you feel like you might just choke on your feelings right there in the passenger seat of his car. You've been good about keeping your eyes on him, but you have to look away, and you bite your lip to just give yourself a second. A soft huff of laughter does escape in the end though, and you squeeze his hand back. "Your secret is safe with me.”

You think that if you were anywhere else but this tiny car it would probably be hard for him to hear you. There's another pause, a silence that sits heavy on you, and the air feels tense like it can sometimes get for you both. It's in these small and rare moments that you think about the what-if of it all. What if he did like you? But then, Steve clears his throat and his hand escapes yours. "I'll see you tomorrow then?" Your smile feels tight, but you've practiced it so much that it comes out like it's easy, "Tomorrow, definitely. Night, Harrington." The use of his last name is for you, it puts some distance between the affection that sometimes escapes when you use his first name. You're out of the car and to your door before he can say anything else and… it's fine.

When you see him the next day it’s just like it always is. Like his car wasn’t full of just something right on the edge just the night before. And just like always, you burst into Scoops, lucky to have a day off and pretend like you always do. That your feelings are those of only the most platonic nature. It’s helpful that the same day Robin, and somewhat you, manage to figure out what all the little sentences you’ve translated mean. All the different spots in the mall are connected, and it leads you to the next step in the process which is gaining intel. The four of you manage to sneak onto a roof and watch over a very shady exchange with some men who should not be holding weapons to just drop off products. When you all duck down, as you’re tucked away on the end by Dustin. You look over to make sure everyone is okay; you watch as Steve and Robin’s hands unclasp. You try to shake off the sick feeling that bubbles up, and the four of you take off before someone comes up to investigate what all the noise is about.

The next day brings a full shift over at Camelot that you cannot get out of. It’s busy so even during your breaks you don’t have the time to go over to Scoops. Which is fine because you just need a second before you go over there. Just some space to sort out the crazed scenarios your brain created all night long. Pictures of Steve and Robin together, take up all the free space in your mind. You are all too aware of how ridiculous it is, but you just can’t let the idea go. It’s only after your shift is over that you wander over to Scoops, only to find that somehow Sinclair’s sister has been dragged into this operation. Dustin comments on how it’s about time you showed up, and Steve smacks him on the head and tells him to stop being a little shit.

Robin slides over and whispers that she’s glad you’re here, “I don’t think I could spend another minute alone with the two of them.” Some of your thoughts start to drift away, you internally remind yourself again that you’re being silly. “I wouldn’t miss being here for anything,” you remark, a smile firm on your face and it feels right like you aren’t lying. Later, you’ll want to smack yourself because the whole sentence is a set of shitty last words if you’ve ever heard them. You’ll wonder if you doomed everyone by the statement.

Getting stuck in the elevator was one terrible thing, and in the moment of it all, you have a hard time imagining it gets worse. Of course, it does get worse because this is Hawkins and apparently you and your friends are now stuck saving the world on a regular basis. You hate that Steve, Robin, and yourself have been caught but there is a comfort in knowing that at least Dustin and Erica are safe. You don’t understand the questions the Russians are asking, and why they don’t believe that you work at a record store. Not knowing where Robin or Steve are being kept and what’s happening to them, is the worst of it though. You feel like you’re at the end of your rope. You’re tired and scared, but you try and stay strong. You spew words like venom the longer the questioning goes on until finally you’re thrown into a room with Robin. Steve, who looks even worse than he did last year after his fight with Billy eventually joins too.

Any resolve to keep your shit together goes out the window as you call to Steve to wake up. When you hear him groan relief floods over your body like a bucket of water being poured over you. It’s the easiest you’ve been able to breathe since the elevator doors wouldn’t open. The three of you try to plan an escape, but the limited mobility and lack of coordination make your escape complicated. You feel like a third wheel as you lay on the ground next to your friends. It’s not the time or place for your insecurities, but Robin’s speech has them coming out. You’re quiet as she talks, quiet even more as Steve’s additional silence hangs over all three of you.

You can’t stop them from injecting you when the guards return to the room. A part of you wishes it was easy to break out of this situation like it is in all the action movies that you’ve seen. Eventually, though a sense of ease settles into your bones and you’re laughing with Steve and Robin, taunting guards, and forgetting all about the additional insecurities you had just moments before they injected you all. There’s a piece of your brain that recognizes this is what the guards want, but it just all feels so- insignificant.

Your limbs are heavy as Dustin and Erica try to hurdle the three of you out of captivity. You bounce around in the back of that car, hitting the sides as you turn corners in a way that you know will leave you with bruises tomorrow. Steve is pressed against you too though, and somehow that makes the blows even softer. The drugged-up version of you finds it freeing to not be so restricted by your anxious thoughts. You lean into Steve and his touches as all of you move through the theater. You rest your head on his shoulder as you try to understand what this movie is about. It’s not the way the ceiling of Starcourt shines and moves that makes you sick in the end. For you, it feels more like all the cells of your body are just overwhelmed and short-circuiting from all these emotions that swell inside of you.

Confessions slip out from all of you in those bathroom stalls. It feels like a moment, one that chains the three of you together in a way that you can never escape from. Unlike the confines the Russians had placed on you, this imaginary chain isn’t one you want to let go of. These are your people, and you love them. It doesn’t matter that Steve can’t love you the way you love him, it doesn’t matter who Robin loves. These are your people and as you all sit next to one another on the floor of the bathroom, laughing together, it feels like you will never have to worry about losing one another. Future you will think back on this moment and wish harder than you ever have that you could just transport yourself back there. If the DeLorean did exist you would gladly take it back to that moment, and you never would have let yourself leave it.

The night never stops being a nightmare, the terror of seeing the Mindflayer in person will keep you up for months after Starcourt. You will pour over everything you could have done to try and change the outcome of the incident. You will spend spare moments reaching out to Max only for her to push you and everyone else further and further away the longer time goes on. You will fret and worry over the lasting trauma all of this will take on each one of you as you get older.

Eventually though, like all things with the Upside Down do, the feelings will lessen. The nightmares will get farther and farther away from you. And in a turn of events even better than you could have hoped for Steve and you will move from just being friends to something that is so much more than your mind could have ever created. You’ll get to a place where you’re able to tell yourself that all of you are going to be okay eventually. That all of this is finally over, and sure you have lost a lot and there are still people to pull back from the edge, but all of you might end up being okay.

Some and now none of you

What instead happens is that a pattern of you being wrong about the Upside Down continues. Everything gets worse and this time you don’t even have half the team you’re used to fighting with. Instead, those of you left behind in Hawkins must scrape together and try to defeat an even bigger piece of the Upside Down puzzle that is Vecna. It goes even worse than it has in the past. You lose another friend, and you all come out with physical and mental scars that don’t feel like they will heal this time. Even worse, is that this time there is no reprieve to try and heal or move on. While parts of the team do come back, you’re all scrambling to try and figure out how to move directly into the next phase of the battle.

Your timeline in what you all hope is the last phase of this is shorter and yet longer than any you’ve worked with before. Waking hours are spent at Hopper’s cabin, each of you doing what you can to get more insight into what you’re dealing with. Hawkins continues to meld with the Upside Down in a way that feels too similar to that first fall you became involved in all of this. The only thing holding you together during it all is Steve, and a part of you knows that you’re the only thing holding him together too. While your days are spent at Hopper’s, your nights belong to Steve. The two of you cling together and sometimes it feels like if you could make it out of all of this the domestic bliss you create at night could be your future.

Midnights are spent curled into one another. Faces flush and warm with love, lips swollen from deep kisses, bodies aching in a way that shows more of how you two try to become one and less about the physical ways the outside world has harmed you in the past. Here in the cocoon of your shared bed, you two whisper out future plans. You talk about escaping after this, leaving Hawkins, and finding a new place to call home. You dream of tiny apartments decorated with secondhand furniture, a space in the future where Steve and you get those six little nuggets, he talked about so long ago in that stolen RV. Kids that look like Steve, that’s your hope, but Steve is so quick to share how he hopes they look exactly like you. Tucked in the small spaces of the night, blocked off from the rest of the world, the two of you allow yourself to sink into this future. Others might warn that doing this would be torture because nothing is guaranteed. But these moments are the only thing keeping you together, and Steve himself even shares how this is sometimes the only hope he has that all of you can make it through this. So, other people be damned, you will keep planning a future with Steve because that’s the only future you want to be a part of.

When the final battle plans are complete, and you’re all geared up again and everyone knows what their role in this is, that’s when things shift. You don’t place weight on how the night before could be the last one you share with Steve. The two of you seek comfort from one another like it might be the last night on Earth, but you don’t talk about the what-ifs that could come from tomorrow.

The last ounce of peace you have isn’t even that peaceful. Your body shakes with anxious energy and Steve can feel your heart racing as he tightens the vest you wear to hold your weapons. “You don’t have to come,” he tells you and it sparks the memory of so long ago that moment in his car. You want to tell him that he doesn’t have to go either, but you both know what his response will be to that. Your smile is soft, “You’re stuck with me, remember that Harrington.” You get just the reaction you wanted, just like you did on that summer night so long ago. Steve takes your hand and kisses your knuckles softly. Neither of you is the same person you were in his BMW all that time ago, but that’s okay you think.

“If I remember correctly, you don’t scare that easily?” His voice is thick, and you think if sound could have a taste his words would be sweet and sticky like honey. “Good to know all those hits to the head haven’t affected your memory too badly,” you tease. Steve doesn’t even take a moment to laugh like he normally would, instead the soft look he gives you turns serious in a way that you’ve come to recognize. “There is no memory where you are involved that I could ever forget, Bee. Doesn’t matter how many hits to the head I take, you’re too unforgettable.”

In another life, the two of you would be able to just be two not-so-teens anymore in love. You like to think that there isn’t a world out there where Steve and you don’t find one another somehow. In this universe, though both of you carry too much, and not for the first time you find yourself silently wishing there was a way you both could run from this. That’s not who you are and it’s not who Steve is. You pull Steve close and kiss him for what could be the last time, “Don’t do anything stupid out there, we have a future to get back to.” Steve makes no promises, but he kisses you back just as fiercely, the kiss only breaking as Hopper calls everyone to come together to set the plan into place.

At first, the plan seems to be working, and all of you are fighting harder than you ever have. There’s a moment where you think to yourself that you all could do this. Allowing the thought to take root though is a curse because everything falls apart after it. What advantage you had is quickly taken away and the battle starts to feel more like you’re all doomed. Those who survived and were there will later tell you all the little things that happened next. Mostly because you make them tell you because it doesn’t matter how hard you try the next bit is a blur. One moment you’re there and fighting, and watching as Steve takes down another creature, and the next you’re hovering over pushing compression after compression into his chest like if you do it enough you can bring him back from the dead.

Steve dies in the only way you imagine the universe would ever let him leave so young, saving you and everyone else. Because of course Steve sacrificed himself, as he always tends to do because no matter how much you loved him it would never make him feel like he wasn’t the most expendable person.

You feel bitter and angry at Steve for being so careless with his life. You want to rage at the world, and every single person who contributed to this existence you must live in. You think if Dr. Brenner were still alive Hopper might have to figure out how to get you out of murder charges because you don’t think you could stop yourself. Worst of all, you hate yourself because, in all the futures you ever allowed yourself to imagine, you never thought you’d have to figure out how to be without Steve.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do

Haunted by the ghost of you

The aftermath is that the rest of Hawkins gets to move on. They figure out a way to rebuild and pave over the deep cracks left behind. They put up a statue in the middle of town, and have a plaque dedicated to “everyone who lost their lives in the tragedy”.

The Harringtons learn about the death of their son over the phone because they refuse to come back to town. You hate them and wish they were the ones who were dead and not Steve. It makes you feel sick to hold on to so much anger, but you just don’t know what to do with it all. You feel like you’re constantly on the edge of some cliff just waiting for the wind to knock you over.

It's you and the ones that survived that end up holding his funeral. His parents don’t even want to hear about it. The only thing that their absence allows for is for you to sneak back into his home long after he’s gone and seek comfort in the room that became both of yours in that last week. Everything there smells like him and when you’re there you can pretend like he’s still here with you.

Time even in that false reality is limited, and you don’t care what the Harringtons will do. You’re not even sure if they would notice, so you buy totes and pack up his clothes and his belongings. You let Dustin and the kids come in and take a part of him so they can remember him. Robin says she doesn’t want anything and that she’s just here for moral support. But then you find his hat from Scoops. The only piece of his uniform that survived. You pretend you don’t notice her pocketing the object, and neither of you talks about it.

You barely manage to graduate. You think you get a pass only because of the tragedy the town has seen. Your parents want to move, the town still feels cursed in their eyes and it would be an easy way out, but you just can’t. You’re eighteen at this point and they can’t force you to follow them, so they just say goodbye and tell you to call if you need anything. You find an apartment in town and move your stuff and Steve’s into it. No one says anything at first, but a month later Nancy feels emboldened to ask if you think this is okay. You hate how your only response is, “No, I don’t think it’s okay that I have to be mourning the loss of my very young boyfriend thanks for checking in, Nance.” No one says anything again after that.

What you learn during this time is that grief is fucked. Depression and trauma in a world where you can’t talk about it is also shit. You force yourself into therapy but you can’t be honest and so it doesn’t feel like it’s helping. You quit that after a few weeks.

Hawkins feels haunted. You see Steve everywhere you go. At the diner where you spent all those late-night dinners together. In every movie that The Hawk advertises, in the halls of the school when you’re still there, you see him in the streets and the people. Nowhere feels safe, and you can’t stay in your apartment forever. All you want to do is leave this stupid town and never return. But then you think of the kids and your friends who survived and the thought of leaving them behind feels like you’d be letting Steve down. It doesn’t matter that you both talked about leaving, it still feels like you’d be disappointing him. So, you keep living in this town that makes you want to die and as the months continue to go by you start to question if this is even living.

And then I can tell myself what the hell to do

When the one-year anniversary comes around you still feel like you’re stuck in the same spot Steve left you in. It doesn’t feel like you’re living. You get up and go to work, plaster on a smile, and pretend like things are fine. You carve out time to be with your friends, who may still be a little haunted but have been able to move on in ways you can’t.

It’s Dustin who shows up at your apartment the day of, some excuse on his tongue about needing a ride somewhere and you’re his only hope. You’re not sure if Dustin drew the short end of the stick, or if it was a strategic move because you can’t say no to him. There’s also the very real possibility that Dustin could have volunteered because he’s the only other person besides Robin who knew Steve the way that you did. It turns out Dustin was just there to lead you to some intervention in the Hopper-Byer household.

Your friends are gathered up, even Hopper and Joyce are there with sympathetic eyes that whisper out apologies. Dustin is the first to speak, his words hold so many emotions but are blunt and to the point, “You need to leave Hawkins.” There is no room for debate as he explains that Steve wouldn’t want you to be stuck here. “Anytime Steve would give me a ride somewhere we’d always drift to talking about you. I think Steve didn’t know how to not talk about you after he met you,” Dustin has to pause and clear his throat. “Steve would talk about how one day both of you would get out of this town. He’d tell me that the world was too big, and you were too special to just stay here forever.”

Nancy reminds you about that conversation in the RV that feels more like a fever dream than a reality. About Steve’s desire for six nuggets, which just reminds you of late-night conversations about children you’re never going to have. Nancy also tells you about a moment in the woods that you didn’t know even happened. How Steve thanked her and told her about how he was able to change to be someone who deserved to be with you. “He loved you,” her words are so soft you barely hear them. “He would want you to be out there enjoying the world. He would hate that you were stuck here, stuck in a grief that you’re never going to shake if you continue to stay here.”

Hopper and Joyce are next, and it seems that they worked on what they wanted to say together. While there are parts of it that sound like Hopper, this speech feels 100% Joyce led. Hopper and Joyce talk about moving on and how you can’t do that if you’re stuck in the same place that took the person from you. Joyce shares about how moving to California was necessary for her to be able to move on. Hopper gets more emotional than you’ve seen him as he talks about his battle with grief. “I don’t want you to fall into the same shit I turned to just because you’re still stuck here, kid.” He’s moved to stand in front of you at some point and he hugs you, his final words are whispered just for you, “It wasn’t your fault, you don’t have to keep punishing yourself.”

Robin asks if you remember being in that bathroom at Starcourt and reminds you of the question she had asked Steve. Once you acknowledge that you do remember that she tells you that she’s been keeping a secret from you for a long time. “In my defense, he asked me not to tell you, and then you guys got together, and I didn’t think I would ever need to tell you. I thought maybe it would be some weird story I edited together and told you at your wedding.” In true Robin fashion, her words are quick and rushed together, but you’ve had years of experience following whatever Robin was talking about. “I know we both thought he meant me, but after everything, while you were being looked at by some EMT he told me that he was talking about you.” You feel confused, and Robin presses on, “Steve thought I should know since you know it led to me sharing my secret. He didn’t think you felt the same, he didn’t want to risk your friendship, so he didn’t tell you. He loved you, so much, and now you know that he loved you for longer than you even knew.”

Everyone left takes a turn, going through with their observations about your relationship with Steve. How Steve changed when he was with you, how you brought something to his life that no one else had. “You made him feel like he was easy to love,” it’s Max who tells you that. There’s something about the way she’s looking at you, the way she directly knows how Steve probably felt like he was impossible to love. The trauma of relationships with shitty parents and how it scars someone too universal for her not to pick up on how much your relationship meant to Steve.

It's the last piece that crumbles any resolve you had. This mask that you’ve been wearing for the last year, the shell you built around yourself to stay safe is falling apart. You feel broken in a way that feels like when you lost him, but also feels new because the truth is Steve changed you too. He’s left a mark on your soul that you will never be able to erase. Even with him gone you still feel like this string is attached between the two of you. You’ve spent the last year wondering if you pulled hard enough on that string that he would come back to you.

You’ve spent a year dreaming up with ifs. What if you could go back and tell yourself to not even go to that junkyard. Would that change things, would Steve still be here? It makes you feel so immensely guilty because it should have been you. It’s this weight you didn’t know you were carrying and once you say it you can’t stop. Over and over the words tumble out of you there in the living room of the Hopper-Byer house. “It should have been me,” you feel hollow as you manage to make the words. Someone scoops you up into their arms, “He wouldn’t have wanted it to be you.” They tell you over and over again, and you don’t believe it, but you want to.

Somewhere in the weeks after the intervention the feeling of not being able to leave starts to fade. It’s slow at first, like when the ground starts to thaw for the first time when the sun shines after a hard winter. It’s enough.

And it’s as you hug everyone goodbye and promise to call that you think maybe you can breathe again. It’s as you cross the now leaving sign for Hawkins that you think maybe Steve hasn’t been haunting you, and if he was it’s only because maybe he’d want you to move on or at least get out of there.

[alpaca-clouds]

Do animals have religion?

A thing about working with animals is, that there are often two extremes. There are the people who humanize animals too much, imagining them to have all those complex thoughts. And there are the people who will go: "Do not humanize animals at all. They are not people."

And I kinda think both are wrong. I still remember that back when I was still being raised religious I got into a long winded discussion with a monk (my catholic school was once a monastery, with some monks still living there) about whether or not animals have souls. Something the monk vehemently denied, while I was like: "Humans are not that much more intelligent than whales or elephants. They have complex feelings, hence they have to have souls. We can argue whether all animals have souls, but a lot of them do."

But there is of course the other side to it. The biological and animal behavior side. And yes, there are at times people who will see animals as biological machines, who are like programmed to do this instinctual behavior. And those people I also will shake my head about. Because even if you own pets, you will know that they have different characters. They are individuals. Hence they are not "machines".

A question that animal behaviorists and also theologians and religious scientists argue about, though, is whether or not some animals have religion. Now, please note, it is not an argument about whether ALL animals have religion. But some. Mostly the discussion is about some apes, elephants and some whale species. Some scientist argue that corvidae might also have something along the lines. Because either have been found to show behavior mourning their dead, in some cases also doing funeral rites, and other ritualistic behavior, that does not make sense from an instinctual level as it does not further survival.

Of course we now run into the problem that we just cannot talk with the animals. While there are some underfunded studies going on trying to decipher the language of dolphins and elephants - going so far that we have figured out a couple of "words" in their languages - we so far are unable to have philosophical talks with them. So, most we can do is watch their behavior and come to conclusions from that.

As such we know at least that bush elefants engage in ritualistic behavior that are apparently linked to phases of the moon. Which is why some scientists wonder whether or not elefants pray to a moon god(ess).

Now, of course we cannot know whether one or the other is true, as long as we do not understand them. But I do think it is a mistake to just assume that they cannot have that. We humans are only animals after all. Just a kind of animal that is capable of complex thought. But there is no reason to assume that certain other animals who are highly intelligent are not able of complex thought. And with that might be able to question their place in this world and how they got here.

We do know, that some of these animal species are able to communicate complex ideas with each other. We see that with the orca behavior for example. We have seen it in elephant behavior, too. Or with covidae. Heck, yes. We have also seen it in sharks, a species where we know still super little of how they actually communicate with each other.

So, is it really so out of the question to think that they might communicate about things like that?

And one quick aside: I still hate those experiments about whether animals having a sense of self by sticking a dot onto them and putting them in front of a mirror. I mean, like, you do not need to be able to recognize yourself in a fucking mirror to have a sense of self. Not the least because not all animals are so heavily focused on their sense of sight as ablebodied humans tend to be. You do not proof that an animal has a sense of self. You proof that it has visual self-recognition and understands what a fucking mirror is.

[eyeless-jeff666]

Winter Wonderland

MHA Chapter 364 spoiler after the read more!

Shinya is bound to the wheelchair and Tsunagu smashes all his worries about their relationship with gentle love and hot chocolate Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst

The winter was awfully cold this year, and the freezing air made Tsunagu scrunch his nose in discomfort. It was snowing, it had been for days, and it felt like a miracle that it had started the day his husband’s release from the hospital had been approved. He had needed to stay there a bit longer still, but the moment had finally come.

Almost two months after he had risked his life for the young man who should have been saved by Tsunagu himself, but it was Shinya’s quirk that had made it possible. It was his husband who had risked his life just to save a promising soon-to-be hero he didn’t even know that well. Not as well as Tsunagu did at least, after taking him under his wing. Despite all odds, however, the other had survived his risky mission. He had lost his ability to walk, after using up too many of his nerves, and was missing a kidney, but he was alive.

Alive and tired and filled with guilt and fear about their relationship. Tsunagu had needed a long time to assure him that none of this changed his feelings for him; if anything, this selfless act only made his love deeper. It had started way back when they were just students, and lasted through so many of their worries; like Shinya’s transition, his struggles to get hormones and surgeries, the financial struggles they had gone through together, and all the worries Tsunagu had held when opening his agency.

He even remembered vividly how nervous the two of them had been the night before their wedding, but even then there hadn’t been a single trace of doubt that this man was who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Even if he was bound to a wheelchair now. All that mattered to the denim hero was that he had not lost him. That he would still wake up with him, and kiss him, and hear his laugh.

Gently, he brushed off some snow from Shinya’s hair and took off the hat he had been wearing. He stopped pushing the wheelchair, and crouched down to put it on the other’s head:

“Are you warm enough, my little fiber?”

The smaller man’s eyes looked teary, and it broke the denim hero’s heart. He softly took the other’s hands, squeezing them reassuringly; they were warm, much warmer than his own, and his heart skipped a beat with the joy of still being able to hold them:

“What’s wrong, love?”

“Nothing is wrong, dear. Everything is.. overwhelming. I am so happy. And scared. And grateful that you want to stay with me. I’m just feeling too much.”

He explained, cupping Tsunagu’s hands to gently blow warm breath on them. It was something he had been doing ever since they’d started dating, and one of their favorite moments of winter. It was caring and affectionate and assuring. The taller one smiled and brought Shinya’s knuckles up to his covered lips, in a gentle kissing gesture:

“My mind was flashing with fear of having to attend your funeral. I was fully prepared to keep my promise of still loving you if you were a worm and carrying you around in my chest pocket. Shinya, staying with you will never be compromised by anything. Especially not injuries. I’m your husband. I married you as a promise to always be by your side no matter what. I know you’re scared about so many things right now, and I know I can’t soothe all of those fears, but I want to assure you that my love for you runs much deeper than you might think right now. I’m just so happy I didn’t lose you.”

Tears were now running down his husband’s cheeks, and they must have been cold with the air and snow, so Tsunagu wiped them away, brushing his thumbs over Shinya's cheeks for as long as it took him to stop crying:

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes please.”

Tsunagu pulled him closer and if his words hadn’t been assuring enough, this kiss simply had to be; it was long and emotional and likely the happiest one they had ever shared. Happier than their first one and happier than their wedding kiss because it held so much assurance; for Shinya that he really meant what he said, and for Tsunagu that the other kissed him back and hadn’t given up on the relationship:

“You are the most amazing man I have ever met, you are so beautiful and caring and brave. And I know you’re scared about not being able to continue being a hero, but you will always be the most amazing hero in my heart. What you did, and what you risked, is the most heroic thing anyone could ever do. And I will never stop admiring you.”

And for the first time in weeks, a smile formed on the younger one’s face; a smile that could melt anyone’s heart in seconds:

“I love you. I love you so so incredibly much.”

“I love you too, my thread, more than I could ever say.”

Tsunagu straightened up, and smiled back at the other in awe:

“How about we buy a hot chocolate on the way home, how would you feel about that?”

The cocoa they bought tasted like heaven and it almost made the two of them cry again at the happiness of being able to enjoy it together. It was hot and smooth and had a hint of cinnamon and orange. The stand they had gotten it from had been there for as long as they could remember, and had never failed to make them feel better:

“Do you remember when we used to drink this, when we were Lightningstorm’s sidekicks? Right after I graduated? It was when I just started my transition.”

“I do remember. And when my first sidekick went to another agency and I felt so self-conscious.”

They chuckled, realizing just how many memories this hot chocolate held. It was assuring and like a dream to think about how many more they would form over it. Of course, there would be dreams and plans they would have to change, but none of that mattered. Tsunagu didn’t care if the other would never be a hero again. Or if he would depend on him. He was ready to retire if he needed, to dedicate his days to taking care of his most loved one.

All the tension from the past weeks and months seemed to have disappeared with the sweet, warm drink they drank at their favorite meeting spot; from there, they could see far across the sea, watching some few particularly thick-skinned souls swimming and surfing. It seemed ridiculous to Jeanist, who pulled his coat tighter around himself, but it was a nice and calm view.

Soft pressure on his thigh disrupted his thought and when he looked down, his husband had his head leaned against him, giving him the same look he always gave when wanting affection and cuddles. Tsunagu slipped off the hat and let his fingers run through the younger one's hair, caressing his scalp, weirdly amused by how oily it was:

“Waited for me to wash your hair, love?”

Soft pink tinted Shinya’s cheeks as he nodded slowly; they had offered to wash it at the hospital, but he had refused. It had been a long time since anyone but Tsunagu or himself had even touched it, and it had become much more intimate over the years. The same went for seeing the blonde with messy hair; it was something treasured and something that only really happened between the two of them.

“Are you comfortable- can we take a bath together later? I’m tired and you’re like a denim icicle. A jicicle.”

The laugh that erupted from Tsuangu was sudden and it slightly startled Shinya, who started to laugh as well after the shock wore off:

“It wasn’t that funny!”

“Oh yes it was, my precious cotton heart, I’m glad you can still joke.”

Both of them knew that there would be many things to talk about, on how to proceed and how to live through and cope with everything life had thrown in their way. But those things were nothing that couldn’t be talked about the next day.

They had promised a lifetime to each other after all, and this was nothing anything but death could ever change. And given how narrowly both of them had avoided death’s kiss on more than one occasion, this would not be the case for a long time.

Tsunagu pulled down his scarf and grabbed Shinya’s face for another long but gentle kiss before giving the reply he’d been waiting for:

“I would love nothing more than that.”

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

Fire and blood (THE FANFIC!) 18+ Dark!Aemond x oc/reader and dark!aegon x oc/reader

Chapter 23: Birth.

COOL HEADER CREDITS: @) firefly-in-darkness

🔷Summary:You are the Lady Brienne Beesbury, Aegon's tutor for his Valyrian lessons. You are elegant and the beloved daughter of Lyman Beesbury, his youngest precious daughter. Needless to say, your pupil Aegon takes a interest in you, and when Aemond also takes a interest in you, things go south rather quickly. They make a deal that you are quick to accept: You will be their plaything for their dark pleasures. You just had no idea.......How far the realm would burn, and how much you all would suffer because of these choices.

🔷Author's note: Please head the warnings.

Wordcount :5000

🔷Warnings: Childloss, birth, assassins, blood, gore, angst, depression, child-birth-depression, be careful what you wish for-ism and other shenanigans MURDER GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF MURDER AND CRAZY TARGARYENS AS WELL AS TREASON WAAH ALMOST FORGOT THIS ONE, THIS ONE CRUCIAL ONE: BOOK SPOILERS, POSSIBLE SHOW SPOILERS!!!!! MDNI18

Many thoughts go through your head, causing a headache when you see Aemond Targaryen has returned from his adventures in the Riverlands. You thought you would never see him again, after he was sent away and Aegon married you, sprunging him. 

You are close to losing yourself once again to emotions, as you want to hug someone, anyone. You watch in silence when Aemond nods to his brother, giving a small bow out of respect. You watch teary eyed as it happens. You always wish they would get along, but not like this. Not when one is facing what could be his final battle.

Aemond’s light blue eyes switch from Aegon’s body to your own, taking in your big swollen belly while you see many emotions reflected back in his only good eye. Jealousy, heartbreak, and finally, a gentle and timid smile grows on his pink soft lips.  ‘’You mustn't be here. You must be in your rooms, resting.’’ He tells you, commanding you, as if you are still a lady and he is the prince. But the moment he hears the words leave his lips, he grabs your hands gently, lowering his voice a bit. 

‘’It’s what Aegon would have wanted. You must be kept safe, no matter the cost.’’ He starts to squeeze your hands, perhaps unintentionally. 

You become slightly uncomfortable under his hard, intense gaze and give an obedient nod. But you won’t leave your Aegon. You made a vow to him, unknowingly, perhaps, but you vowed you would be one soul, one flesh, one heart. ‘’My place is beside Aegon. I’m only leaving if he is brought to his ancestors, resting in the crypt.’’ You picture a funeral parade for your loved one, being paraded around the town when civilians look on, their brave king covered in green and gold, before being put to rest with his ancestors, finally free of the burdens of this world, a world that never fully and truly suited him. 

Aemond sighs, as you sit down on Aegon’s bed. You lean in and kiss Aegon’s forehead, which is still warm, giving you a slight comfort. He is still in there, your Aegon. You just hope you can survive long enough on your own until he comes back out. The prince speaks, before sitting down on the other end of the bed, joining you.‘’You always were a stubborn woman.’’ 

You laugh, despite your tears. But that laugh slowly dies as the cold truth settles and wraps around you as a blanket, nearly choking the joy and light out of you. ‘’It’s too much, Aemond. I can’t lose him. Not after everything we have been through. I have nightmares where my child is cut from my body.’’ You look at your belly, rubbing it. You have nightmares about Helaena too. She warns you to be careful. You won’t bring her up in front of Aemond, however.

The prince is insulted you even thought he would allow such a thing to happen. As if it is not possible that you all might lose this war, become captives and die. ‘’I would never let that happen, and you know it.’’ 

You have your doubts. There is only so much they can do. ‘’I’m the Queen of Seven fucking kingdoms, ruling over millions of people and yet I feel completely alone.’’ You confess, without any tears running down your cheeks. You have no one. Not really. Without Aegon, you are powerless and weak. These men claim that a woman is unfit to rule, why would they even listen to what you want?

Aemond’s fingers gently reach out to touch your hands that rest on your belly, holding your hand when leaning in closer. ‘’You’re not alone…’’ He turns his head, and is reminded of his brother. He drops your hands, and you feel even more alone than before. ‘’Your grace.’’ He adds with a dutiful faint smile that hurts your heart. You love him still, of course you do. But you can’t bear to love anyone until your Aegon wakes up, for you vowed you wouldn’t love another man, and you are not sure that you can love another man.

‘’He is so peaceful, almost as if he’s dreaming.’’ You whisper, gently touching Aegon’s hands and taking them into your own. Aemond is silently hurt written all over his face. Yet he nods, dutiful. ‘’I wonder what he dreams about.’’ You murmur, a bit delusional. 

Aemond speaks, whispering as well, not ruining the moment. ‘’I know, your grace.’’ He tells you, clearing his voice. You turn your head and see that you are not the only one who feels terribly lost and alone anymore. 

Just seeing him cry is enough to make your bleeding heart be cut again. ‘’You do?’’ You ask, in disbelief, your voice small, breakable.

Aemond nods. ‘’Hmhm. He dreams about the only thing that he ever wanted, the only thing that ever mattered. He dreams about something that every man should thank the gods for, that they have it.’’

He turns his head and finally looks you in the eye when speaking. ‘’He dreams about you, your grace.’’

The doors of your bedroom are opened from the otherside, and a red haired green wearing woman enters with quick, precise steps, her hands folded against her stomach and her glare judgemental when she takes you and Aemon in, sitting close to one another. She even clears her throat to annouche herself. ‘’Ahum.’’ Alicent Hightower is here.

Aemond rises from the bed, quickly going to his mother. ‘’Mother, you shouldn’t have come here.’’ He tells her in a warm, hushed voice. You let them be, touching Aegon’s warm cheeks and caressing his face. You think back of the many times he was sitting in front of you, with his nose in a book he didn’t want to read, before his bright eyes wandered to your face, listening as you would read to him.

You know Alicent well, by now. She already lost her only daughter, now she is about to lose her first born son. She pushes Aemond gently aside, and once again you hear her footsteps approach you. ‘’If the gods did not want me to see my son, they would have taken him away from me already.’’ Alicent then looks at her son, sleeping quietly, his face half blackened, his eyebrows gone and his arm that is now half metal. She does not speak a single word, but keeps staring at him, her mouth forming wordless prayers only the gods may hear. When she is finished, she lifts her head before addressing you and Aemond but barely looking at you. ‘’If you both can please join us, we have a emergency council meeting.’’

—------------------------------------------------------------

The small council room is not unfamiliar to you. You have been here at various times. The first time will always be unforgettable. You had woken up after the dinner, in Aemond’s bed, and heard your father had died. You stumbled into the chamber, and found your father with his head smashed in, still sitting his seat, still wearing his pin. Today, you sit in that chair, and you firmly believe it will be your head that will be smashed in this time.

The way Alicent smiles says it all. She has a plan to make sure that the Hightowers once again prevail, and once again that means that justice, honesty and the good will have the bow for their plots and schemes. She sits in the chair of your husband, of your king. Just her, sitting in that chair is enough to cause you worry. Luckily Aemond is here as well, although you doubt it that he would pick your side over hers. Alicent speaks, looking around the room and addressing the council of Aegon II. ‘’We are here today with a sorrowful task. My son, your king, was injured in battle, possibly beyond recovery.’’ Her hazelnut brown eyes are piercing holes in yours as she speaks, clearly blaming you for the possible death of her son. ‘’We have come here today, to choose an heir.’’ You slowly raise your brows.

‘’It was my husband’s wish to see our son take the Iron throne.’’ You interrupt her sharply. ‘’To discuss anyone else would be the highest of treason. Maelor nor Jaehaera are well enough to rule the kingdoms, you know this as their grandmother.’’  

‘’And yet your son is? You are still with child. We do not know for certain if the child born will be a male, your grace.’’ Maester Orwyle speaks, keeping his gaze lowered and his hands hidden in the pockets of his tunic. 

The weasel that is Jasper begins interfering too, reminding you all of the ancient succession laws that have been at work longer than any of you. ‘’And aside from that, the rule of succession has been very clear. You are only a queen-consort. Should anything happen to Aegon, you have no heirs with him that can take the throne. So, the throne will pass to the eldest living descendant of the former king.’’ From the corner of your eye, you notice that Aemond almost perks up at this conclusion. 

Alicent folds her hands, leaning on the table before turning to her son. You palen, following her gaze and turning your head to Aemond as well. ‘’Aemond, I know it is a lot to ask. But until your brother either recovers or dies, do you wish to take the crown and lead the kingdoms?’’ She asks him.

Aemond thinks for a moment, before giving a nod. You glare at him. This is all he ever wanted, to rule the kingdoms. He doesn't care that he has to do it over the back of his comatic brother, or you, the girl he once loved so dearly. ‘’Yes, mother. I shall carry my duty and birthright with honor and pride.’’ You slam your hands on the table.

The fragile sphere in the room changes every passing moment. Tyland Lannister comes with another proposal however.  ‘’Our king is as good as dead. He has no heirs left. He started this war nearly 2 years ago now. We all lost so much. We suffered so much.’’

A hush falls over the small council as every one of you considers the words of Tyland. ‘’We must surrender now, bend the knee to Rhaenyra, perhaps she’ll be merciful.’’ 

Several people erupt into protest, all but yourself. Aemond is the first to talk, rising to stand when pointing in your direction with clear disgust written on his face. ‘’Surrender? Are you insane? Brienne is pregnant with Aegon’s child. Do you know what will happen to her?’’ Your child will die. Rhaenyra won’t allow another challenger to her throne to live. He will die, your son. 

Alicent huffs. ‘’Nothing she did not deserve for endangering him in the first place.’’ Your blood becomes cold and Aemond has to hold you back from ripping the red curls from her skull. 

Your protests are in vain. ‘’I won’t stand for this. This is treason!’’ You look around for the other members, Criston being your best shot. He owes you a favor. Multiple ones. He killed your father, he proposed the plan that led to Aegon’s demise, and he is hand now because of you. ‘’Ser Criston…’’

But one look at him and you know you won’t have his support. ‘’The prince will make a fine ruler, my Lady. You did well, as Queen. But without Aegon, you are only our consort.’’ You become teary-eyed. He took everything from you and you made him the second most powerful man in the realm, and how does he repay you for that?

Alicent smugly smiles, trying to hide it very well but her eyes shimmer with sadism. ‘’Perhaps the Queen can be removed from the small council and brought to her chambers? She should be resting this late into her pregnancy.’’ You huff, ignoring that statement.

She turns to her son for further support. ‘’Aemond, you are our King now. Decide what must be done with her.’’ What must be done with you? What will they even do, execute you?

You growl at Alicent. ‘’I carry your grandchild inside of me!’’

Alicent is unfazed or unbothered by your outcries only proving her points that you are not well because of your pregnancy. ‘’You tried to rob my other grandchildren of their birthright. You tried to outsmart me and you failed. Yield, Lady Brienne of house Beesbury.’’

Aemond Targaryen takes one look at you before nodding, turning his gaze anywhere but at you.

‘’Yes, I quite agree.’’

This is treason. ‘’Aemond,’’ you warn him with a stern glare. Aemond ignores you as the guards surround you. ‘’Aemond, I warn you.’’ You add. Aemond simply shrugs, ignoring you. As a naughty brat you are sent to your chambers. You spent the next few days alone in your rooms with maids to attend your every need. But you are not allowed to leave anymore. Not until your child is born. Finally on the 5th day, Aemond decides it's time for a visit.

He greets you with a respectful bow. You curtsy to him before walking over to him, and hitting him so hard across his face that you are convinced that for a moment, just a brief moment, the sight in his left eye came back. He hisses in pain and displeasure as you walk back to the chair you were sitting in, and sit yourself down. ‘’What do you want?’’ You demand.

He nervously folds his hands on his back. ‘’I’ve come to see you.’’ He speaks, as if he is your lover. You glare.

And then you ignore him. ‘’Oh.  Am I allowed to give birth to my child or will you cut it out now that you are the king?’’ You remark.

He wrinkled his nose in pure disgust before faithfully kneeling by your side.  ‘’I’m only the Prince regent. And that’s the stupidest sentence that ever left your lips.’’ He whispers. He gently lays a hand on your belly. ‘’No one, including myself, will take your child from you.’’

It breaks you, shatters you into dozens of little pieces. You break into sobs, clutching him tightly when begging to not be let go of. ‘’I’m so scared.’’

You whisper.

He tries to be as respectful as possible. ‘’I know. You are safe with me. The maester said it must be a few days before you give birth, so I’m off to attend some duties in the Riverlands. You’ll be left in their care.’’ How can you be safe with him if he’s flying to the fucking Riverlands?

You grab his hands. ‘’Please stay.’’

He coldly pushes your fingers away, almost as if your touch kills him.  ‘’You know I can’t. But I will return to you.’’ He promises and for a moment you are frozen as his lips come closer and closer and finally leave a soft kiss on your hair. Aemond walks out of the room, and does not look back

.

The next morning, early, you awake from sharp pains in your stomach. You notice there is a puddle of water on your bed linen, together with blood. A sharp pain sends you into a cry, ending a long moan. Your baby is coming.

One of your ladies rushes in the moment she hears your cries, delighted. ‘’The Queen is giving birth! Fetch Maester Orwyle!  She tells another lady, as you whirt and twist in agony and pain. The pain feels as if your child is ripping your insides to shreds. Two other ladies rush up to you, with linen and begin undressing you of your nightgown. 

The wetnurses help you deliver your child, who comes into this world screaming, kicking and red faced. Your son comes into the cruel world, and you are so proud he is finally here, but mostly glad it is just over.

Your baby cries and is hushed to sleep. ‘’She is healthy, my Queen.’’ The wetnurse speaks as she dresses your child. You hear her words. That can’t be right.

‘’She?’’ You remark, beyond disappointed. The wetnurse holds your daughter, taking in your sullen expression. A she. A her. A daughter. It is  a disappointment to you. An innocent baby has become a disappointment to you, because you have become a cold-blooded survivor. A girl like her will never sit the throne.

You laugh, a little deliriously as you are inspected by the worried Maester. ‘’Aegon was so excited for a son.’’ You mutter.

The wetnurse tries to hand you your baby but you refuse the child, especially when you see one set of clear blue eyes all too familiar to you looking back. Eyes that will never open. You refuse to hold your child. ‘’I don’t want to hold it.’’ You confess, stubbornly turning away from your only child. 

‘’Put in the crib and be done with it.’’

Tears sting and threaten to fall. You are helped out of bed, before your linen is changed. You are given a new gown and change into it. You have failed Aegon. You will never have his son. He will never have his heir, and he will never rule this kingdom again. You are all sheep waiting to be slaughtered by Rhaenyra’s butchers. ‘’But my Queen, this is a cause of celebration…’’ The maester tries to cheer you up. You glare in his direction.

‘’There is nothing to celebrate. And I am not your queen. I’m no one’s. Not until our king wakes up.’’ After that you don’t speak a single word.

Slowly but surely, the wetnurses, the ladies that were ready to bestow you well wishes, everyone that came happily into your rooms, is turned to silence and leaves you alone. You close the curtains and lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling. 

‘’Shut up.’’ You tell her. ‘’I don’t want anything to do with you.’’ You confess. The baby ignores you, crying loudly. You begin to cry as well. ‘’You were my last chance. You were my final hope to solve this madness.’’ You wordlessly mumble, rocking yourself as grief and despair take hold of you. You scream it out, kicking against the bed and hurting yourself in the process. ‘’Why gods?!’’ You take a swing at the vase at your bed stand where witherflowers are standing. Flowers Aegon gave you, the day your pregnancy was confirmed. The vase shatters as your soul, into dozens of tiny pieces.

The child keeps crying.

You let her cry.

Perhaps she won’t make it.

Finally, it becomes silent.

Peaceful almost.

A calm before the storm.

And yet you can’t sleep. Your mind wonders how your baby is doing. You stand up, your steps becoming quicker and quicker as you approach the sleeping baby. You pick her up, shake her until she opens her eyes. She looks at you, before breaking into a smile. You chuckle, despite your tears. You put her against your chest and start rocking the baby to sleep. 

You saw her as a curse.

A plague.

But now you see her for who she is.

A blessing, a solution.

You kiss her head, where tiny silver hairs are growing. You walk to your favorite reading chair and sit down with her clutched to your chest, eagerly drinking by you. You smile at how easy it all goes. You’re a natural. Your mother wasn’t there for you when growing up. A fever took her. You hope that you will be there for your daughter. You want to be her friend, her mother, her guide and her counselor. You want your daughter to grow up and you want to cherish these moments. Your only regret is that Aegon is not here to see her.

You think long of a name for your princess, for your sweetest baby. You want to be her friend, yes. But she is a Targaryen. She has proved herself strong and clever already, but her name must be meaningful. It must hold importance to Aegon’s house, and sway Alicent. And just like that: You just know what to call her.

You kiss her head, putting her back in her crib as she gently sleeps. ‘’Sleep well, my Helaena.’’ You tell her, before putting the blanket around her body. 

—-------

The next time you awake, Helaena is crying loudly, alarming you. You sigh before grabbing your chamberobe and rushing over to her crib. But it's empty. You rush to the sitting room, perhaps she is there. When you open the door to the hall, you notice there are 6 beheaded men outside your room, clearly killed in combat. 

You don’t think rational when you hear Helaena’s cry again, opening the door and rushing in. You see two men standing near the windows, one has Helaena in his big savage hands. The other holds an axe, big enough to cut a tree. You rush to them. ‘’Let her go! She is innocent. Queen Rhaenyra and me are friends.’’ You demand them, but at the same time you try to reason with them.

The tiny one scoffs. ‘’Queen Rhaenyra said that you became the enemy the moment you slept with Aegon.’’ You gawk at him, at a loss for words. 

So you do the only thing you can think of. You plead. ‘’Please, she is my daughter. Perhaps my only child. She is the light of my life, do not snuff her out.’’ You beg. ‘’I didn’t kill Lucerys. I didn’t start this war! I’m a victim, just as Queen Rhaenyra. Take me hostage and I’ll prove it to you, but don’t kill her.’’ You beg.

The two hesitate, briefly. But that moment ends. 

The one with the knife brings it to Helaena’s small chest, before stabbing it right through her flesh, causing blood to spray. You watch as your daughter is murdered.

Helaena lets out one final cry, before her cries die a miserable death just as she does. Your world crumbles to ashes right in front of you as you sink to your knees, and watch as the heart of your daughter is carved out of her chest. You begin to scream and sob at the same time, but you don’t bother to run anymore. They can have you, if they must.

One of the killers moves his bloodied knife to your neck. ‘’Don’t worry lassy. There is someone upstairs taking care of your sick king. You will be with your daughter and your king soon.’’ They sent an assassin after Aegon too. At least he will be free from this misery soon. At least you will be free of this misery soon.

Until the door is opened and several armed men of the King’s guard enter the room. You are tossed in their path as a blockade before the two leave, taking your daughter’s heart with them. Your daughter remains on the ground in a puddle of her own blood. Ser Criston is the first to notice you both. ‘’Gods, it’s the Queen!’ He rushes to your side, helping you stand and quickly checks if you are unhurt. ‘’My lady, your grace? Are you unharmed?’’ You laugh, before bursting into tears, pointing at Helaena.

‘’My heart is…it’s broken.’’ You mutter, as your hands start to shake violently. You have trouble seeing as dots and worms dance over your vision, blinding you almost. Ser Criston grabs you by your hips, lifting you over his shoulders and carries you out of the room.

‘’My child…’’ You protest but Cole does not care. He carries you to the throne room, where Aemond is waiting for you. The moment he sees you, covered in blood he mutters something to the gods, likely a thank you. He rushes to you, grabbing you by your hips before holding you so tightly that you cannot breath. But you doubt that has much to do with his hug. 

‘’Ser Criston. Thank you. I assume the Prince is safe too?’’ He asks. Prince. He didn’t hear. He came so early from the Riverlands too, he must have heard it and came as fast as he could. 

Ser Arryk returns, carrying the body of your daughter, her body in a fresh new gown, hiding the fact that she was murdered. Arryk puts the child before your feet, as Aemond’s confused smile becomes a horrible ugly scowl, as he takes deep breaths. ‘’Who was responsible for this?’’ He demands. Arryk shakes his head. 

You can’t believe this stupidity.

‘’Who do you think? Who has it always been?’’ You grit out. ‘’Your sister. That whore at Dragonstone, that Maegor with Tits!’’ The surrounding nobles take notice of you saying this but you don’t care anymore. You know it is Rhaenyra, they confirmed it yourself. 

You’ll never get to see Helaena grow up, or to teach her how to sing. She’ll never fly a dragon, hold her first ball or meet the love of her life. She was robbed of it all by Rhaenyra.

Another guard drags in the two assassins, now in chains and severely beaten. ‘’The assassins have been captured.’’ He tells Aemond. Another beheaded man is brought before the prince regent as well. ‘’This scum tried to kill the King. He didn't make it very far.’’ The guard dryly comments. You nod, studying the head of the man.

You see the man that killed your daughter. You take a dagger from Aemond’s belt, before rushing at him, and slashing the assassin’s left eye open. Blood comes pouring out when he screams, but you don’t stop just yet. You drive the dagger deeply into the socket, causing the eye to completely be ruined. Then, you twist it. You rip the shirt from his chest. You make an outline with the dagger where his heart should be. ‘’May the gods have mercy on your Queen. She came for my daughter’s heart, I will send her yours in return.’’ You vow. You drag the knife deep in his skin as if he is a tree and your knife is an axe. You drop your knife before taking his own, and you carve his heart out when he still lives, cutting loose the bloodied organ. When you are finished, your hands are drained in blood and the man has fallen to his knees, dead.  You give the heart to one of your ladies maids. ‘’Give it to the Dragons. It is time they start learning to eat traitors.’’ Aemond watches, a fascinated smirk on his lips.

You do feel tired, and let him kill the other assassin with an unexpected but swift slash of his sword that ends in a simple beheading. You pick up your daughter’s still warm corpse and force her to sit on your lap, holding her tightly, feeling the hole where her heart used to be. 

Aemond speaks to you when all the others have left, but four guards remain to protect you both. ‘’Your son uhm…’’ He stutters, a bit uncomfortable. 

You break into a tearful smile. ‘’It was a girl, Aemond. She had the most beautiful smile I ever saw. Her eyes were like Aegons, bright and blue. They were ever so bright, even when they cut her heart out of her chest.’’ Aemond boils with rage next to you. ‘’I named her Helaena, after my best friend, your shared sister.’’ You tell him. He does not even listen. He walks to the doors and two guards follow him, before he disappears leaving you alone with your child.

You prepare Helaena later for her meeting with the Gods. You wrap and prepare her for her cremation, as is custom. You go to bed, sleeping in Aemond’s olds rooms, the rooms where all of this once started. The guards are in your room now, otherwise you won’t be able to find rest. And you still can’t find rest. Your soul is broken, your heart bleeds and your life looks bleak and meaningless. 

You even think of ending it all.

You have suffered and endured enough.

You have been tortured enough.

But something tells you to remain. So you do. 

Something inside of you is not done yet. Something wants to continue despite your suffering, despite your heartbreak and despite the fact that you know it can all end in war any moment now. 

Months pass without much improvement of your mental health, beside that. You don’t feel happy, you feel fine, but also empty. You feel that Helaena left a void that nothing can fulfill. You are still awake when Aemond comes to you, in one  morning. ‘’My queen.’’ He greets you, formally. You don’t look up to meet his eye. You don’t look up for anything anymore. ‘’My regency has ended.’’ That can only mean one thing. Aegon has been declared dead.

Aemond breaks into a broad smile and you feel hope for the first time in months. ‘’Your grace, it is a miracle. Bless the gods, for he woke up.’’

You are let into Aegon’s chambers, and you are confronted with your husband, sitting in his bed, alive. His eyes are open and you are confronted with the loss of your child. His lips break into a smile when he sees you approaching. ‘’There is my queen.’’ He tells you with a sweet smile. He looks at your stomach and bends his head slightly. You silently sit by his side, just taking him in.

Aemond and the other attendees leave, giving you both rest and privacy. You gently embrace your husband, burying yourself into his sweet safe embrace. He hugs you back, smiling. ‘’I am back. I won’t go easily.’’ He jests. You have the awful suspicious feeling that he doesn't know what has happened yet.

He sees your smile and caresses your face before kissing your stiff frozen lips and whispering in your ear. ‘’Now where is my heir? Where is my son?’’

a/n:

In case ya need it:

Suicide Hotlines & Crisis Helplines | Free, 24/7 Chat, Text & Phone (findahelpline.com), this is not a jab, but yeah, if you need it, use it. My mental health isnt doing so well recently, so im sharing it for that reason.