#and wishes he still felt enough grief to be able to cry.

[jellieland]

A week or two after the games, Grian will usually check in with the victor.

It's a habit that's probably more for his own benefit than anyone else's. But it is, he thinks, a good habit nonetheless.

After all, as fun as it all is, things can get a bit... intense, towards the end, and it's good for his peace of mind to make sure the last one standing is ok with how things shook out.

Nothing much has ever really come of it before; they're all pretty resilient. He doubts this time’ll be different. Except- well.

Something about it all itches at the back of his mind, and he hasn’t been able to work out why. There was the actual ending, of course, but also Grian may have been whispering in Martyn's ear about how boring that final showdown was turning out to be, and how narratively satisfying it would be if he just betrayed the other two and got it over with, so.

If nothing else, it feels like he's got no reason to break with tradition.

There's just one more concern.

Martyn seems to have made it almost impossible to contact him.

It's not... unheard of, for players to keep to themselves most of the time, especially when it comes to those they don’t share a server with. It seems a little uncharacteristic of Martyn, but the last time Grian saw him outside the games was before they even started, so maybe he does things differently these days.

There are certainly a great many reasons why that could be the case, most of which are perfectly sensible.

But Grian's never been able to resist picking at a puzzle put in front of him, whether the puzzle likes it or not, so he is going to talk to Martyn. And he can just see what happens, and worry about any consequences if and when they appear.

Luckily, he already has a way to do just that.

He doesn't usually need to do this - although it is very funny to startle Scar or Mumbo with it sometimes when they're concentrating. Honestly it's usually less effective than communicators, with how much effort it takes.

But he does have a way. The same way he used to whisper in Martyn's ear very recently, in fact.

He reaches out, away from his home, away from his body, and it feels a little like simultaneously overextending himself, and putting his foot down on a step he thought was flat ground.

That is... not how this usually feels.

It's odd. Rather unnerving.

But it works.

He finds Martyn. Watches the vague shape of him solidify into something more real.

He’s still wearing his red life outfit, for some reason. His eyes are closed. Around his head, the coral curls like a blood-red crown.

“What do you think you're playing at?” Asks Grian.

Martyn blinks his eyes open slowly, looking less confused than Grian would expect for someone hearing a disembodied voice out of nowhere. “Oh good.” He says dryly. “You again.”

He squawks indignantly. “Hey, what's that supposed to mean?”

There is silence for a few seconds.

“...Hey.” Martyn says, and as flippant as he suddenly sounds, he looks as thrown off balance as Grian feels. “Not sure who this is, but I think you might have the wrong number!”

“I think that's unlikely.” He deadpans. “Where are you? I haven't been able to get hold of you.”

“Uh-” There's a short pause as he looks around at wherever he is right now. “Falling into endless nothingness, looks like. Same old, same old, am I right?”

Grian rolls his eyes. “Yeah, ok. Well, I suppose you don't have to tell me.” A part of him makes a note of Martyn’s wording, though. Just in case.

“...Hm. Well, not gonna lie, I do appreciate the change of pace, but I would love to know what exactly you want from me. You know, just on the off chance that you feel like giving me any clues.”

It's at this point that Grian remembers: one of the main reasons this method of communication is good for messing with people is that it makes him sound, um. A little different. And while he can see Martyn, it’s not as if Martyn can see him.

...Best to just pretend that hadn't slipped his mind.

“You do realize this is Grian, right?” He asks, as though it ought to be obvious.

“Riiight, yeah, sure.” Says Martyn. “And I'm also Grian, did you know that?”

“Oh for- what, do you want me to tell you some secret only the two of us would know, or something?”

“Nah.” Says Martyn. “That wouldn't work.”

“Elaborate.” Says Grian, through gritted teeth.

“You know what? I don't think I will!” Replies Martyn brightly.

Grian takes a deep breath in through his nose. “I'm beginning to wonder why I bother.” He grinds out.

Martyn snorts. “Tell me about it.”

There's a short silence.

“But- ok.” He continues. “Just suppose for the sake of argument that you are Grian.”

“...Yes?” Asks Grian warily.

“I have a question for you.”

“...Yeeees?” Asks Grian, even more warily.

The silence stretches for several long moments.

“What's up?” Asks Martyn.

“Yeah ok, this isn’t worth it, I'm leaving now.”

“Wait! No, I'm serious!” Under the amusement, there's a note of something that sounds almost like nervousness in his voice. It's uncharacteristic. Unnerving.

“What are you talking about?” Asks Grian, trying very hard to keep his voice at least mostly free of annoyance.

“Oh, you know! What's going on, what's the deal, what'd you want to talk to me for?” There's a slight hesitation. “You need help or something?”

“I- ok. That's actually sort of relevant. It's really nothing too complicated, Martyn.” He says, grumpily. “All I wanted to do was make sure you're good with what happened at the end of the last game.”

Martyn blinks, and goes very still.

There is a long silence - long enough that Grian starts to feel concerned.

And then Martyn laughs.

It's not a nice laugh.

“Good, huh. You want to know if I’m good with it. That sure is an interesting choice of words.”

“...How so?” He asks, guardedly.

“Grian. Grian, I’m not sure if you remember this, but I won. I won this one, Grian.” Every word he says, however restrained, sounds like it’s had to claw its way out of him. He glares at nothing. “And guess what? It's just like the others. I don’t really care enough for any of it to matter to me, anymore, and that's fine by me.”

Now that's... a lot to unpack. “You- I'm sorry?”

“Well that makes one of us then, doesn't it?” His voice is coated with scorn.

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you actually think I’m going to explain myself to you?” He asks, looking half-amused. “You, of all people?”

“Well unfortunately, Martyn, I can’t exactly put Ren on the line, so I’m afraid I’m all you’re going to get.” He snaps, and instantly regrets it when he sees the look in Martyn’s eyes.

There is a short silence.

Grian shifts uncomfortably. He’s not going to apologize, obviously. But. Well. “That... ok, maybe that was a bit much.” He says.

“...Little bit, yeah.”

There is another silence.

After a while, Martyn speaks.

“I would’ve betrayed him too, you know.” He says coolly.

“What, Ren?”

“Yeah. At the drop of a hat. Soon as it was convenient.”

“I mean sure, I suppose?” Says Grian, caught off guard. “You didn’t, though. Did you? When you had the chance.”

“Eh.” He shrugs, as though that’s an irrelevant detail. “It would’ve been more dramatic later. You know how it is.”

...There's no real way he can justify saying no to that, is there? “Yeah.” He says. “I guess I do.”

He tries to picture the King, betrayed. The Hand, triumphant.

“I dunno, though.” He says, thoughtful. “I don’t think you ever could’ve done it, to be honest. Not in the first one. Whatever it was you were planning, it was just never how that story was going to go.”

“That’s not true.” He says it just slightly too fast. “I know that’s not true.”

Grian scoffs. “You know thinking about something isn’t the same as doing it, right?”

“What, no, really?” He rolls his eyes. “You don’t say!”

“What I’m saying,” He lets his voice turn biting, “Is that you’re being stupid.”

Martyn lets out a startled laugh. It’s surprisingly genuine. “Wow. You’re really bad at this, dude.”

Grian bristles. “Well why am I the one who has to do it then? Why don’t you talk to someone else, if you hate talking to me so much?”

“I mean…” He makes an unconvinced noise. “Obvious problems aside, when do you even expect me to do that? We usually have other things to worry about.”

“I don’t know, maybe at literally any point between the games?” He sighs exasperatedly. “There’s no way you’re that busy.”

“Between the games?” Martyn asks incredulously, and Grian suddenly feels as though something dangerous is hovering over their heads, just about to drop. “What do you mean, between the games?”

“I mean between the games! Like- now! What do you think this is, right now, if it’s not between the games?” He snaps.

“This right now?” He looks nonplussed. “I think we’re usually asleep for most of this bit. Or possibly we forget about it. As you can probably imagine, it’s hard to know for sure.”

“Now I know that’s not true.” He says firmly, ignoring the unease trying to creep up on him. “I know I do stuff between games, and I know I don’t just forget about it. That makes no sense.”

“I mean, I don't necessarily mean everything between the games, more just this specifically.” He gestures around at nothing. “That gets more complicated, though. But you- hm.” He looks curious. “That’s interesting. Where even are you, then, at the moment?”

“I’m at home! Which is where I thought everyone else was too!”

Martyn seems to consider this for a few moments, and then he frowns, and then his expression goes blank. “…Oh.” He says. “Yeah. No, that… makes sense, actually. Yeah. You’re probably right.”

“Wha- what do you mean? Right about what?”

“Everyone probably went home. Or, at least, they thought they did. And hey, what’s the difference, when you get right down to it?”

“...Ok, I’m going to ignore the second part for now, I already got past that little existential crisis after Ren and Doc’s whole… thing… in season eight- if you think everyone went home, why are you- what was it you said- ‘falling into endless nothingness’?”

There’s another pause.

“...You’re really gonna make me say it, huh? That seems cruel, even for you.”

“Wait, no, what do you-”

“Where else do you think I would go?” It sounds less like an admission and more like an accusation. “What ‘home’ do you think I have left, Grian?”

“Look.” Snaps Grian, feeling vaguely tricked. “It’s not my fault that you-”

“Yeah, it never is, is it?” He glares into the darkness. “It’s always a tragic inevitability with you, never a choice you’re making. That way you get to stab people in the back and pretend to be sad about it. Best of both worlds, huh?”

Grian splutters for a few seconds. “Why are you being so rude to me??”

“Because you’re you and I’m me.” He smirks. “Don’t know what you expected, honestly.”

“Oh yeah? Who’s hiding behind inevitability now?” Grian retorts, perhaps a trifle vindictively.

“I never said I wasn’t a hypocrite, sometimes. Also, I never said I felt bad about it.” He replies levelly, and all at once, they’re talking about something else.

“You didn’t need to say it.” Snaps Grian. “You might be good at lying but you’re not perfect. I could see in your face that it hurt.”

He narrows his eyes. “It felt good, actually.”

“Wow, good for you.” He says, almost amused suddenly. “You didn’t say I was wrong, though.”

His expression twists into something unreadable. “I know you, Grian. Like recognizes like.” He says, voice low and dangerous. “You’re a liar.”

Grian shrugs, despite the fact that Martyn will not see it. “And you’re a coward. Your point?”

“I don’t need to justify myself to someone who refuses to admit that he could have chosen to be better, if he’d ever wanted to.” He spits out.

“Hey, at least I don’t try and convince myself I’m a monster just because I want to survive.”

That one strikes something tender; he can tell. “Right, yeah, and you’re just a blameless angel and everyone you cut down had it coming, I’m sure.”

“I didn’t say that. But since you bring it up… how many people did you give up your time for, again?” He grins. “Is it less than one? Because I think it is. I think I’ve got you beat there, Martyn.”

“And where did it get you?” He snarls.

“Home, in the end.”

Martyn flinches back as though he’s been struck.

“Did you forget about that part?” Asks Grian.

There’s a long pause.

Martyn fidgets with the end of the banner he wears around his waist, pulling at where the white threads are coming undone. He stares out into the darkness. “Yeah.” He says. “I guess I did.”

The satisfaction of winning the argument feels less potent, suddenly.

“You’re right.” Says Grian, after a while. “I’m really bad at this.”

Martyn laughs quietly. “To be fair, I’m not exactly helping.”

“You’re really not.”

He sighs. “You know pulling the knife out just makes the wound start bleeding again, don’t you? That’s all we’re doing here. That’s all we’re going to do to each other. We’re too alike to do anything else, unless we just don’t do anything. And hey, we’re not great at that either.”

“Hmm.” Says Grian begrudgingly. “I’d say something about inevitability again, but I honestly don’t think you’re wrong.”

“We both just enjoy pushing buttons too much to be particularly good at not pushing them, I guess.” Martyn sounds half-amused, half-resigned.

Grian makes an irritated noise. “Yes, alright, I don’t need another reminder of the whole button debacle.”

There is more silence.

After a while, Grian speaks again. “There’s something I was wondering about, actually.”

“Oh yeah?” Martyn raises an eyebrow.

“What’s the reason?” He asks.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific with that one, mate.”

“‘This is a death match for a reason.’” He says matter-of-factly. “That’s what you said. So- what is it? What’s the reason?”

Martyn blinks, then lets out a short, harsh laugh. “You think I know that?”

“No, not really. That’s why I wondered what you meant when you said it.”

“It- look. I don’t know if you’re expecting philosophy from me, or something. It’s a death game. People die, and it doesn’t have to mean anything. It doesn’t have to be special, it doesn’t have to be honourable, it doesn’t have to be fair. That’s what I meant.” He frowns. “You know that.”

“I do.” He admits.

“Then why ask?” Martyn looks around as though this time, somehow, he might be able to find Grian’s face in the dark.

He doesn’t.

“I just-” Grian sighs. “What do you want?” He asks. “What do you actually want, Martyn?”

The question sits heavy in the darkness between them.

“What do you want me to say?” Martyn asks. He sounds more tired than Grian’s ever heard him.

“I want you to tell the truth.” Grian says. He needs to know. He needs to know.

“Now, Grian.” Says Martyn, voice gently chiding. “Have you met me? You know I can’t do that.”

“Pretend it’s a lie, then.”

Martyn’s grip on the banner he wears tightens, slightly. There is a long, long silence.

“Or how about,” Says Grian, eventually, “You say something, and I won’t know whether it’s a lie or not.”

There is another pause.

Martyn frowns at the red of the fabric in his hands, as though it might offer him something.

As far as Grian can tell, it does not.

He’s just beginning to give up hope of ever getting an answer when Martyn speaks, so softly he almost doesn’t hear it.

“I want it to be warm again.” He says.

It’s quiet.

For a moment – just a moment, no more – Grian remembers bloody, aching fists. He remembers burning heat.

“Well.” He says. “That makes one of us, then. Doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Says Martyn, voice low. “I guess it does.”

There’s another short second of silence before Martyn speaks again, sounding cheerful. “So, suppose I’ll see you in the next one, huh? If that ever happens.” He grins. “Wanna take bets on how hard Scott’ll have to try not to win it? I’m gonna go with very.”

Grian snorts. “I’m not taking that bet. That man is infuriatingly good at surviving.”

“You’re not wrong! You are not wrong.” He gestures into the void. “And don’t even get me started on Timmy’s whole thing, I think we both know how that one’s gonna go. Unless you want to bet against him being gone first next time round?”

“You’re not Scar.” Says Grian. “There’s no way you talk anyone into taking that bet in a million years. Except maybe Timmy.”

“Fair, fair.”

There’s a short pause.

Grian hesitates for a moment before he speaks – almost, but not quite, reluctant. “Why do you keep looking back?” He asks. “There’s nothing left for us there. You know that, right?”

“I mean, let me know when you find a better place to look.” He tilts his head to the side slightly, curious, and frowns. “Do you really never want to go back?”

“No.” Says Grian. “Never.”

Martyn opens his mouth, and then, uncharacteristically, closes it again. “Yeah.” He says. “Me neither.”

Grian is tempted, momentarily, to tell Martyn to take the banner off and let it go. Let the darkness take it. Prove it.

But just like Martyn, he lets it drop.

Mutually assured destruction is a potent thing.

Now all he has to do is the hard part. The part he’s dreading most of all.

The main concern is phrasing it correctly. Making it sound just how he wants it to sound.

After some thought, he thinks he’s found the words he's looking for.

He could always be wrong, though. He’s usually more one for incredible violence than smooth talking.

“Martyn?” He asks cautiously, casually. “Do you want me to help you?”

The expression that crosses Martyn’s face is unreadable.

He processes the question for a few moments, before he answers.

“Nah. I’m good.” He says, voice guarded. “Don’t worry about it.”

And that’s the rub, isn’t it.

Because now Grian has to decide whether he’s going to let Martyn lie to him or not.

Whether he’s going to pass the test that’s been set before him, or not.

...

Grian’s not a monster.

He’s just realistic.

There's nothing he could do, anyway.

“Well.” He says levelly. “Just let me know if that changes.”

(Martyn would do the same to him. It’s not a justification, or an excuse. But he knows it to be true.)

Martyn stares out into the darkness. His eyes are almost, but not quite, resentful. “Sure thing, man. Why wouldn’t I.”

It’s not said like a question, so Grian doesn’t answer it. “Well, you know I can’t stay here forever.”

“I do know that.”

“Any messages you want me to pass on to any of the hermits? I know you haven’t seen Mumbo in a while.” It’s not really a compromise, or a peace offering. Hopefully, however, it’s close enough to one or the other of those to act in their stead.

Martyn closes his eyes. Breathes in. Breathes out. Opens his eyes again. “If you were Grian, then maybe.” His gaze is cold. “But I think this hypothetical has gone on long enough.”

...It’s a lot easier for both of them, if Martyn believes that.

He’s positive Martyn knows that.

Just this once, perhaps he can manage to not look a gift horse in the mouth.

“For what it’s worth,” He says, looking away, “I moved on from the Bad Boys when it got too expensive to keep them alive.”

“It’s not worth a lot.” Says Martyn flatly. “And it would be worth even less coming from Grian.”

Grian sighs. “Alright. Fine. I’ll see you around, Martyn.”

“I know.” Says Martyn. He closes his eyes.

After a few moments, Grian does too.

When he opens them, he’s home.

…

Oh, that doesn’t feel good.

It really doesn't.

He could dwell on this. It wouldn’t be hard. He could drown himself in guilt over what he’s done, or not done, or will not do.

But- well.

Grian never really saw the point in letting someone else drag you down with them.

[endo-bunny]

His Light in the Darkness

Summary: When Joel finds love ten years into the apocalypse and has a daughter with that woman two years later, he has to deal with the death of his beloved. He had to deal with a child that he doesn’t want, the child that took his whole world. That was, until a couple months after your birth. Now you will have to go with your father, Joel, and “The Cargo,” Ellie. As you go through this traumatizing yet exciting new adventure, you will have to learn a lot of things if you wish to survive in this world.

Paring: Joel x daughter!reader

Series Warnings:Mentions of violence, using both the game lore and show lore, Tess being a mother figure to reader, reader is eight years old, attempted SA, attempted kidnapping, kidnapping, slaves, death, dialogue and actions/scenes not being exactly the same or close to original, nicknames for reader(Little Light, honey, sweetie, baby girl), anxiety attacks, anxiety alluded to but not specified, symptoms of ptsd but not specified, reader is Joel's biological daughter, mother’s looks not specified, reader is a child so she will cry a lot (please don’t complain about this) this is normal for children

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of violence, using both the game lore and show lore, Tess being a mother figure to reader, reader is eight years old, panic attack

Word Count: 3,465

******

Chapter 1 - The Light at the End of the Tunnel

Winter 2015

Cries were what filled the room. A female that looked to be in her mid thirties was laid out on a worn down mattress. In her arms was a baby, the one that was producing those beautiful sounds. Her breaths were shallow, hands bloody as her eyes met those of her lover. There beside her was Joel. He stared lovingly at the woman, your mother. She taught him how to love again, and you were also someone that was going to help teach him how to love once more in the future. The woman had already known there was a chance of not surviving through childbirth. Hell, they were living in the fucking apocalypse. They didn’t have the same materials and medical help or equipment that they had twelve years ago.

She felt weak, she wasn’t gaining any strength back. She had children before the outbreak but upon outbreak day and thereafter, they had died in front of her eyes. That was one of the many things that the two lovers confided in and shared with each other. Her other births had been similar to this birth; but her other times were much different when it came to the time after giving birth. She wasn’t gaining any strength back like she usually would, she was only losing it. She could feel her heart that had previously been pounding in her chest slowly start to slow down to an alarmingly slow speed. Her breaths that had previously been easier to have were quickly becoming harder and harder to inhale.

With just one look, Joel knew what she was about to tell him. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t lose his lover; his light in the dark. Tears flooded his eyes, racing down his face shortly after. He choked out a sob. As carefully as he could, he gingerly held her in his arms. They stayed like that for hours, even after she had taken her final breath. She had been able to breastfeed their child with the help of Joel.

As he continued to lay there, your mother still in his arms, the door was quietly opened. Tess stepped in, grief upon her face at seeing Joel with his deceased lover. She walked over, getting close enough to touch Joel’s shoulder. His eyes snapped up to meet hers. This was the most vulnerability that Joel has ever shown Tess. She saw how much pain he was in, and she couldn’t do anything to help him. He muttered something to her after he calmed down a little.

“Take the baby, I don’t want the thing that took away the love of my life.”

She was shocked to say the least. She never thought that he would ever say anything such as that. He always seemed so happy when talk of the two’s unborn child was brought up. As Tess sighed, she lightly shook her head side to side, rejecting his request; or rather demand. She couldn’t do that. He looked angry, more than angry. He was extremely pissed to say the least. He snarled at her, even more so when she started to talk about burying your mother. The rest of it all was just a blur in his mind. He blocked everything else. He didn’t want to deal with anything else, especially you.

A couple months passed by, Joel hating every moment of it. On one surprisingly warmer day, his view towards you was swiftly changed. He had put you down on the couch, not fully caring if you fell or not. It didn’t feel like it was his responsibility. He was looking over everything that he would need for his and Tess’ next run. Something in him caused him to turn his gaze towards you. There you were, smiling over at him as if he was the greatest thing in the entire universe. In a sense, he was, to you.

Once you saw that his gaze had turned towards you, you erupted into a fit of adorable little giggles. He had never heard that beautiful sound come from your tiny body. The moment he heard it, he was immediately transported to the first time he heard that same noise come from Sarah.

Right then and there, he knew how disappointed and angry Sarah and your mother would have been at him. He was beyond ashamed of how he acted and treated you. You were his daughter, he was your father, he was supposed to love and protect you. He knew then that he needed to change the person that he was, but only for you. He wasn’t going to allow himself to be any different towards anyone else, he couldn’t trust anyone else in this newer world. As for now, for the first time since your mothers death, he picked you up lovingly and smiled.

“Hi, my Little Light. Daddy’s here now.”

******

Autumn 2023

Giggles erupted from you as you played with your toys; your fathers warning to not make any noise while he wasn’t there escaping your mind. All noises stopped however once you heard the front door open, close, and then voices. All you could hear was your fathers voice before you were sprinting out to him, jumping into his arms that weren’t ready to catch you.

“Daddy!”

He huffed, trying to keep you from falling out of his arms. He looked at you with love in his eyes, but he still had his mask up due to the fact that there was a teenage girl being present.The teenager looked surprised to see this man that has been nothing but cold and rude to her, be so loving and even have a child. You finally looked at her curiosity in your eyes.

“Who’s she Daddy?”

Joel cursed under his breath, “She’s no one, just some cargo,” He had hoped that you would simply just accept that she was there for a tiny bit and then just never bring her up ever.

The teen scoffed at him, “Hi there?” Her voice seemed on edge, “I’m Ellie, the cargo.”

You giggled at her, finding the new girl funny.

“Go and stay in your room baby girl, I’m gonna stay out here, ok?”

You nodded your head, perfectly fine with going back to playing with your toys.

Thirty minutes passed, Ellie snooping through Joel's stuff the entire time. She froze though when she heard a door down the hall open. You padded down the hall, trying to be as stealthy as possible, failing however seeing as you are just eight years old and not fully aware of your surroundings. Once you reached the living room, you jumped. Looking around you saw Ellie looking at you. She also jumped, not expecting your reaction. Seeing her jump causes you to giggle, and while she is weary of you, she does find it a little cute.

“What are you doing? Didn’t the old man tell you to stay back there?”

She honestly didn’t fully care what you were doing but she was still at least a little curious.

You stared at her while your child brain worked to try and think of something, “Nothing?”

Before she could say anything else, you ran over to her. You came up to about her waist, a little lower. You’ve heard Joel and Tess talk about how you’re small for your age. They summed it up to being that you weren’t getting the right nutrients and needed to eat a little more vegetables and meat.

“Why did Daddy say that you’re cargo?”

“‘Cause he’s taking me somewhere,” She sounded grumpy and slightly irritated.

“Who are you?” Ellie was quick to ask you a question of her own.

Telling her your name, you looked down at what she was holding

In her hands were dog tags. You looked back up towards her with a perplexed gaze set in your eyes. She looked down at her hands, having completely forgotten that she was holding them.

“Oh, those are mine.”

“Are you a Firefly?”

Your question caught her really off guard. She had no idea that someone who seems as young as you would know anything about the Firefly’s.

“Uh, no, but someone that I loved was.”

You know by the tone in her voice and the look in her eyes that it was time to shut up. You walked over to your father and sat down on the ground. She watched you before returning to whatever she had been doing. You zoned her out as you found some of the crayons that you had left on the coffee table. Joel had found that he could melt down some of the broken crayons and make new ones.

You made multiple drawings, knowing that all of them would end up on something in the apartment. You looked up once you zoned back into reality. It was dark out and Joel was still asleep. Giggling quietly to yourself, you climbed onto the couch and hopped onto his chest. He jumped awake. Both from you and the nightmare that he had.

“Did you know that you talk in your sleep?”

Ellie was looking at something in your hands. Your dad picked you up and sat you down on the couch. As he sat up, he started to say but you found the fraying threads of the couch much more interesting. Although it became much less intriguing once you heard a certain someone’s voice. Tess walked in through the door, saying something to Joel and Ellie. You looked up at her, quickly getting up to go to her.

“Mama!” You somewhat calmly walked over to her, unlike how you did earlier to Joel.

She greeted you and then looked at Joel.

“Can I talk to you in the other room?”

He looked hesitant towards you before nodding, going to his room. Ellie looked at you curiously, as well as you. Once the door closed, you both turned your gazes to each other.

“So, was that your mom?”

“Not really, I just call her Mama. Daddy told me that my real mama was in a better place and that I would never be able to see her again, but that she loved me. What about you?”

“Yeah, same I guess.”

You smile brightly at the older girl. Right once you opened your mouth, beginning to say something, Tess and Joel walked back in. Joel is quick to pick you up and get you away from Ellie. As you got comfy in his large arms, resting your head against his warm chest, your eyes dropped shut.

The next time that you open your eyes, you’re strapped to your fathers chest. As you start to wake up, you realize that you're not in your home anymore. Were you outside? There weren’t any normal buildings around. Your question was soon answered when you heard guards talking. You were immediately thrown into a frenzy when someone started yelling at your group.

The next thing you know, your father is taking you out of the holder and setting you down directly next to him. Tears were streaming down your face as you frantically grasp onto his pants leg. Everyone’s kneeling and the guard is saying something. Everything happens so fast, your dad is suddenly beating the guard, Tess is grabbing the tester, and Ellie moves in front of you.

You're still crying as all the commotion settles down. You look up at Ellie, who is now sitting next to you with a panicked look on her now dirtier face. She was also looking up. As you reach out for her, wanting to be held to help calm you down, Tess is quick to step in.

“Get away from her.”

You look alarmed, confused why you couldn’t be near her. As you try to understand what's going on, Joel quickly scoops you up, getting away from Ellie just as fast. Tess has something in her hand that you can’t see very well. Tears are still falling from your now red and puffy eyes as your dad curses in frustration.

“Why are you so mad at her, Daddy?” Your small hands grasped onto his shirt, tugging slightly.

Everyone stopped at the sound of your small voice, realization that you were with them sinking into Joel and Tess’ minds. The reality of this situation was making itself loud and clear. Your question goes unanswered as the talking continues on. You were scared, you didn’t know what was going on and everything was terrifying. You just wanted to be at home, safe and sound, being held tightly under a blanket in your fathers arms.

Your breathing starts to quicken as it feels like you're losing control over your own body. Fresh tears sprout from your eyes and your heart is pounding in your ears. Were you dying? You didn’t want to die like this, not now. It felt like you couldn’t breathe. You weakly clutch at your chest as your throat closes up, small whimpers leaving the confines of your overworked lungs. Your tiny body was trembling, beginning to feel very hot in your own skin. Sweat collected on your forehead. Joel noticed very quickly what was happening.

“Hey, baby girl, breathe. You're okay. Look at me baby,” His hand guided your face to look towards him.

He talked you through it, although a lot of it sounded like you were underwater. Once you finally were back, panic attack taken care of to the best of their abilities, you noticed that it seemed like the problem from earlier was completely taken care of. You couldn’t tell when it was taken care of but it was.

Joel seemed to be in a bitterer mood than he was earlier. You stayed quiet, opting to just look around at everything since you had nothing else to do except sit there attached to your fathers chest. As you continued to walk, going somewhere but you didn’t know where, you finally arrived at a new area. It seemed to be a very rocky place. You couldn’t tell if it was a building or not, but it looked similar to one.

You father was the first to go in, holding you tight against his chest despite the fact that you were already tightly strapped to his chest. He looked around a little, making sure that the coast was clear, before telling Tess and Ellie to come in. They soon follow in after him, Tess’ immediate move is to look at you then around the place. As the four of you make your way through the building, the air seems to get tenser, as if something bad was about to happen. That feeling was proven right when Joel and you split up from Tess and Ellie. Your head was covered by the strap, Joel having done that the moment he sensed danger. You could barely move around, all you could do was listen to what was going on around you. You heard growling and your dad grunting every so often. At one point, you get jostled around a little more than normal, a muffled cry coming from your mouth. Joel is quick to put his hand on your back before taking his hand away. You hear a struggle going on before your father and Tess’ voices once again.

As your father uncovers your head, you can finally see once more. There's bodies of the infected all around, and your father is breathing heavily. You don’t get to look around much more before Joel is quickly walking again, trying to get this whole thing done and over with as fast as possible. You’re confused as to what was happening, and it seemed that Ellie seemed to be as well. The two adults however ignored your confused and concerned faces as the supposedly short journey continued on.

******

The trip was much more boring than you had expected. You were finally arriving at the building where Ellie was supposed to be dropped off at, but it seemed to be a little quiet. Joel went into protect mode almost immediately once he realized that something wasn’t right.

As he cautiously looked around, he found that everyone that should've been there was dead. He covered your eyes so that you wouldn’t have to see all of it, trying to keep you safe from the horrors of this world as much as he could. As everyone is looking around, Tess starts talking about where to go next.

“What the hell do you mean? The jobs finished, it’s time to go home,” Joel's ruff voice cuts Tess off mid sentence.

“I mean that I can’t go home,” Tess’ usually strong voice wavers as her eyes land on you.

Ellie gasps, understanding what the older woman meant. Tess pulled the neck of her shirt down to reveal a horrible looking bite. Joel didn’t know how to react, he didn’t want to believe that Tess was bitten. You didn’t understand what was going on, so you tried tugging on your fathers shirt in order to get his attention. He didn’t even look at you, just put his hand on your back.

“You have to get her to Tommy,” Tess goes over to Ellie and grips her arm, showing Joel the bite mark that Ellie had shown them earlier, “She has to be telling the truth. Look at this, this is only a few hours old and it’s already horrible,” She pulls down her own shirt collar once again while talking to further prove her point. Before Joel could respond, groaning and screeching could be heard outside. Tess rushed over to one of the boarded up windows, looking out of it to see outside.

“Get out of here, there's a hoard of those fuckers coming here,” Tess began rustling through her bag, looking for specific items.

She pulled a small object out of a little, purple bag that seemed to still be in good condition. Joel’s breath hitched the moment he realized what the bag was. Tess walked over to you, the small object and bag in her hands.

“Sweetheart, I may not be your real mother but I love you like you're my blood daughter. I’m going to have to go away for a very long time and I want you to have these,” She put the small object in your hand, “Look after your father for me, you’re His Light in the Darkness.”

As you looked at it, you saw that it was a locket. You opened it with confusion, having a little difficulty. Inside the locket were two pictures. One was a picture of your mother, father and Tess all together. Your mother was holding the camera, her arm outstretched as she smiled brightly at the camera. Joel was hugging her, a wide smile outstretched on his face as he looked at her, ignoring the camera. Tess had her hand on her gun, seeming to be on alert, but she still had a warm smile on as she stared at the camera. The second picture was one of your father and mother. Joel had his arm around your mother as she had both of hers on his chest, seeming to be laughing at something. They were in a room that looked similar to the room that your father slept in now, but some of the furniture wasn’t as it was now.

“Daddy look! It’s Mommy!” Your excited voice came out a little too loud as the sounds of groaning and clicking came closer.

Everyone else's eyes went wide upon hearing what was waiting for them outside. Tess quickly began pouring gasoline all over everything in the room, trying to make sure that everything was covered.

“Joel go! Get them out of here, take the girl to Tommy. I’ll lure them in here, then take the building with me,” Her eyes were filled to the brim with tears as she looked at the little girl that she helped raise, knowing that she'd be leaving her.

“Mama? What's happening?”

She couldn't bring herself to tell you. She walked over and kissed the top of your head before handing Joel her backpack. She gave him a silent look before Joel grabbed Ellie to leave. You were crying now, not understanding what was happening and not wanting to leave Tess. Noises could be heard behind you as Joel quickly got out of the building despite Ellies struggles to get out of his grip.

All of a sudden, a loud boom came from behind the three of you. The building exploded. You continued to cry, the commotion overwhelming you. Joel did his best to consol you with what little energy that he had left. As you started to get brought back down to earth, your eyes became increasingly heavier by the second. Joel covered your head as you laid it on his chest, sleep beginning to take you after the exhausting day.

******

Tag list:

@fakegingerrights

@silnebula

I really hope that you liked this! It took a lot of energy for me to actually make this because I've been really procrastinating. I'm currently also working on my other Tech x Reader series but I have no idea when that will be. I'm also working on chapter two for this one. I might also do some romantic one shots for Joel because I love him so much.

@macchiato-dreaming22

[councilofcastamere]

DANGEROUSLY YOURS | AEMOND T. X READER

"An eternity without me. You will look into the faces of passers-by that will, for an instant, bring me back to you. You will find moonlit nights strangely empty, because, when you call my name through them, there will be no answer. Always your heart will be aching for me, and your mind will give you the doubtful consolation that you did, a brave thing."

Cesar Romero as Victor Morell - Dangerously Yours (1937)

CREDITS FOR THE AEMOND PICTURE TO ultravi0l3t on Pinterest!

You were foolish. Foolishly in love.

The moonlit lit up, and the hour of the owl drew closer and closer. And yet, no sign of your little brother Lucerys. With each breath you drew, your heart stilled more and more.

You just knew it was him. You knew Aemond would. You had always known he'd wait for the right day to strike. The tears streaming down your eyes could've drowned you for all you care, but you wished for everything you had to bring Lucerys back.

And the one thing worse than that was the trust you put in him. You blinded yourself by love and drowned yourself in trust, all for him. All for the one-eyed prince you grew to both love and loathe.

You loathed yourself. You felt as if the world could have swallowed you up and no one would blink an eye. You had hoped for one day where you could look back at it and laugh, but at what point in your life could you ever let this go? A tragedy at your hands. You had not even attempted to stop him from departing to the stormlands.

Before you could bite back another sob, one feet stepped forward, and so did the other. Repeating the process before you could even register you were in front of the prince's chambers.

You didn't know what you would do first. Would you strike him, or would you cry into his shoulders? You wished for the former one, prayed to the Seven that you would be strong enough to shun him as he shunned your concerns.

Your thoughts were interrupted as the door opened just enough for his face to peek out. His hair was hastily brushed, as if he wanted you to see him in a different light. As if you ever could.

"Let me in." you simply uttered, not sure if you were speaking about his chambers. "Let me enter."

His eye scanned over you, over your purple nightdress and your hair undone. Even in the nocturnal hours, you looked as majestic as ever.

Your brown curls, so reminiscent of your father.

But he couldn't care less about your father, no.

Not your brothers. Not your mother. No. You.

And right now, he wasn't sure if he could face your tragedy-stricken self. He felt validated in the slaughter he committed, but your words could've alone made him repent for forgiveness.

He contemplated a few seconds, before ultimately opening the door wide. The room was neat, with the exception of his books sprawled out on his bed and table. You had never seen it before.

"Where is Lucerys?" you asked quietly, your voice cracking as your hands clenched at the side of your dress. "He hasn't come home. Mother won't tell me anything. She's still in Dragonstone, and I am here. I have been here for years, waiting to marry you."

His gaze was prideful, yet you weren't able to see his heart ache at your own grief. Whatever you felt, he felt. His feelings were dangerously yours, and yours were his.

"Stormlands." he answered, turning away as to not feel too much. "At least, if the sea hasn't swept him somewhere else."

Your head whipped up, and you swear you could feel your neck cracking if the rage hadn't consumed you.

"We both know he isn't in the ocean." you spat, the tears streaming down again. "What have you done, Aem-"

Aemond couldn't have it. He knew your last word.

'Aemond' instead of 'Aemy. He hated that you felt the need to use his full name. You had never used his full name, and you were not about to start now of all times.

His rugged yet soft lips were felt on yours, interrupting your words. The feelings in you dissipated, and you wanted to feel angry again.

How you wished to feel anger, sadness, anything.

But how could you when love overpowered it all for him. Only for him, by him. You loathed yourself for it.

"Get yourself dressed." he murmured against your lips, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. his nails gently scraped against your delicate skin.

"We'll be wedded by the end of this night. You and I. No one else."

[sunflowersinthedirt]

NOW AND THEN | GEORGE HARRISON 🌻

You love sunflowers and George miss you.

Angst (i’m a sad person), mentions of grief, angry issues. May have some sensitive topics to some readers.

English is not my first language and gifs are not mine.

1995: Summer.

Ringo and Paul were playing their ukuleles and conversing in the company of their respective wives. They were almost oblivious to George's presence in that vast garden. Today was a delicate day; they were finalizing the recordings for the Anthology documentary, and talking so much about John left Geo with a bittersweet (or rather, sour) taste in his mouth.

George was one of the few who didn't get to make amends with John before he passed away, and today, despite the sunny atmosphere, George was gloomy and quieter than usual. He was feeling nostalgic. He had remembered things that made him happy but at the same time, saddened him.

It was when he thought of you, looking at the sunflower garden he had planted, that the memories came flooding back. George walked over there, struggling against the feeling of sadness that seemed to take over and fill his chest. He had no idea he was being watched by Olivia and Dhani, who knew about his devotion to those flowers more than anyone. What they didn't know was the reason Geo loved sunflowers so much.

1967:

— Look, me nails and clothes are full of dirt! — Said the girl, laughing and showing her hands. — Only you'd be able to see me all dirty like this.

George laughed.

— I'm worse than you. — He said, getting up from the flowerbed and helping her up. He clapped his legs to get the excess dirt off his hands and clothes, making himself even dirtier. — And you're the prettiest girl covered in dirt I've ever seen. — He confessed, with a cheeky smile.

The girl shook her head.

— Please, love... — She laughed. — You're bein' too nice to me.

He took her in his arms. Neither of them caring that they were dirty with soil in the middle of that garden.

— You know you're gorgeous no matter what. — he said, kissin' her lips. — Thank you for helpin' me take care of this garden. And thank you for lookin' after it when I'm not around.

She smiled and felt her face warm with all the adoration and courtship from the dark-haired man.

— You know I love this garden. Takin' care of it is a way for me to ease the missin' I feel for you when you're gone. — She confessed, George's eyes staring into yours like he wanted to capture every detail of you at all once. You were, without a shadow of a doubt, the most beautiful woman George had ever seen.

You were beautiful because you were you. In your simplicity, in your little mannerisms, in the way you walked... George loved everything about you and wished he could keep you like a porcelain doll so nothin' would ever harm you.

— And I took the liberty of plantin' some sunflowers here. Don't get me wrong, I love orchids, but sunflowers will always be my favorites. — She commented. The warm wind blowing through her long hair made George pull a few strands away from her face.

— They're lovely, darling. I loved them. They made the garden more colorful. — He said. The girl smiled.

— Sunflowers are happy flowers to me. I love them. — She confessed, looking at the flowerbed. She was proud of her work. — And if I ever die, I want you to bring me sunflowers every year. Wherever I am, I'll be happy...

George's smile faded at his beloved's request. It was sudden, a happy moment turned into a melancholy mess in an instant. She was like that: very honest. Not that George wasn't aware that people could die, after all, he had already lost someone that year: his manager, Brian. He and the rest of the band were still stunned by the untimely death of someone as passionate about life as Brian.

— Y/N... — He took a deep breath, stepping away from her touch. He was tough enough not to want to cry in front of her. He didn't like thinking about the possibility of losing her one day. He'd rather go first than see the woman he loved leave forever. — I-I... I think that's a rather morbid wish, don't you think?

The girl shook her head.

— I think it's the sentence we all carry — She concluded. — I'm sorry if I touched on a sensitive subject for you.

— It's alright. — It wasn't. — We need to take a bath and get all this dirt off us.

He changed the subject and took her by the hands so quickly into the house that she didn't have time to breathe and tell him what had been bothering her. Not that she wanted to tell him, knowing that George would do everything he could to take that away from her and that would cost him a lot.

Four months later:

She was sick and no one knew except John, her best friend. When George received that phone call at the studio, something inside him knew it wasn't good news. Although the news hit him like a speeding car, he couldn't feel anything about the fact that you had told John and not him that you were in the terminal phase. The electric guitar fell from his hands, making a loud noise that pierced the acoustic walls of the studio. He wanted it all to be just a nightmare.

He blamed himself a lot. It was obvious that her thinness wasn't normal, but he was so busy with the recordings of the White album that he was living on autopilot. He fought with John. He wanted to punch John.

He wanted to hold back his tears, he didn't want to yell at one of his best friends... But John knew George had been holding back his tears since Brian's death. It was George who held down the fort with the media when Brian died because John couldn't speak.

And losing you was unbearable... And when he remembered that you had asked him to bring you sunflowers, he wanted to tear out every single flower from that garden and set it on fire.

For the first time, gardening had become a distaste for him. Geo was immensely devastated. He swallowed his pride, made peace with John, and asked his friend to accompany him on your wake. George wanted to fulfill your last request despite all the anger and sadness bottled up in his chest about those "damned flowers."

And so, every year... He brought you sunflowers. He would plant a flowerbed on your grave if it would bring you back.

Present: 1995, Summer.

George sighed. His chest seemed full of that anguish from the past, and to remember you and John now with a bitter taste in his mouth was devastating. He put on a brave face. Mentally, he made a small prayer that your spirits could find the peace you so sought in life. George had married someone he liked, had a beautiful family, but you never left Geo's heart and Friar Park. There was a part of you there, and it was those vibrant yellow flowers.

— Sunflowers are happy flowers to me. I love them.— He remembered what you had said. He no longer hated them because they were a sweet reminder of you. It was the color that was missing from his life, and in a way, it was there, almost spiritually cheering him up.

George wiped away the tears with the sleeve of his jacket, which by this point had already flooded his eyes, making his vision blurry.

— I will always love you. — He said to himself, hoping that you, Brian, and John could hear him wherever you were.

[lau219]

After Hours

Part 5

Previous part here

…………………………………………………………………………….

Unfortunately, that chance to talk again never happened.

After Y/N left, Robert had spent the next forty-five minutes arguing with his father in his office. As usual, nothing productive came from it, and the two men simply shouted angry accusations and statements of resentment back and forth at each other.

Eventually, Robert had walked out of his office and left Maurice standing there, knowing there was no point in continuing the argument, but making it clear a final time that the decision regarding the shelter grant had been his alone, and Y/N was not the one to be blamed or reprimanded.

By the time he was finally rid of his father, the day had ended for everyone else, and Y/N had already gone home. Robert was extremely frustrated that he hadn’t been able to find her one more time and reassure her again that it was all alright. He hoped she wasn’t still worrying about it, and as he took a rare moment to relax upon arriving home himself, his mind wandered back to earlier.

He once again thought about how upset Y/N had been. Despite their occasional little bouts of banter where she’d get smart and he’d say she was pestering him, Robert knew Y/N was actually very sensitive. It had killed him to see her crying the way she had been due to how his father had treated her, and all he’d wanted to do was comfort her.

He’d found it incredibly difficult not to pull her closer than he did when he’d spoken to her in the lobby and she’d looked at him with those teary eyes. At that moment, professional or not, telling her how he felt about her had been on the tip of his tongue, and the way she’d looked back at him made it seem like she was feeling it in that moment, too.

But then, unfortunately, the moment had been broken.

•.•.•.•.•

Twice in the span of just a few weeks.

Twice, she’d embarrassed herself.

Twice, she’d put Robert in an awkward spot due to her behavior.

Laying in bed that night, Y/N could not stop mentally kicking herself for losing her composure and crying in front of Robert earlier that day. Of course, the minute someone yelled at her, the tears started, and she wished she somehow had the ability to make herself less sensitive.

But she’d only been able to hold back long enough to make it out of Robert’s office, and then as soon as she’d looked at him when he’d followed after her, it was like someone turned on a faucet. Maybe if she hadn’t appeared so pathetic, he wouldn’t have felt the need to follow her and try to calm her down. She was so embarrassed, and even though he’d assured her that she hadn’t done anything wrong, the appropriate way to behave would have been to just apologize again and walk away, not cry like a baby and fall apart in front of him.

She couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d comforted her, though, and it had felt like something shifted between them in that moment. When he’d gently grabbed her arms and reassured her, she’d wanted nothing more than to tuck herself the rest of the way into him.

Although, she knew that in reality, he was just trying to make her feel better. No man wanted a crying woman around, least of all in the workplace. And despite the fact that she and Robert would sometimes give each other a hard time, it was always harmless, and so she was willing to bet he’d never expected her to start crying, since she was never sensitive about the grief they’d give each other.

But she’d put him in an awkward spot for the second time in as many weeks, and before finally falling asleep, she vowed that she wouldn’t let herself do anything else that could cause another mishap again.

She had to keep herself in check.

•.•.•.•.•

“You know, if you’d slow down and pay attention for a moment, you’d realize that you have those out of order.”

Standing next to Robert in the giant ballroom of the extravagant hotel, Y/N looked over as he held the notecards in his hand that contained the notes for his upcoming speech. Rather than even looking at them, Robert had blindly taken them from her hand as he was looking down at his phone in his other hand to check his messages. They were standing off to the side of the room, and, wanting to see if he was paying attention, Y/N had purposely rearranged them to be out of order before handing them to him, and she smiled as she saw that he hadn’t even noticed.

Typical, she thought to herself affectionately.

“Mm-hm,” Robert replied, his eyes still on his phone. But then he finally finished whatever he’d been typing and slipped the phone in his pocket, then looked at Y/N.

“What?” he said.

She smiled again and softly rolled her eyes, and then she indicated to the cards with a nod of her head.

“You might want to take a look at those quickly,” she said.

Looking down then, Robert shuffled through the cards, his expression becoming more and more confused as he flipped through each one.

“These aren’t in order,” he said after a moment, his brow furrowed, and Y/N couldn’t stop the quiet chuckle that escaped her. He hadn’t even heard her first statement.

“Which one?” she asked then, pretending to be as unaware as he was.

“All of them,” he replied, still flipping through them.

“How can you tell? Your handwriting is so scribbly that they’re almost unreadable.”

Not replying, Robert’s brow furrowed deeper, and Y/N could tell that he was, in fact, having trouble reading his own writing. After another moment of watching him, she retrieved more cards from the pocket of her planner and held them out to him.

“Here,” she said, gently pulling the original cards out of his hand and encouraging him to take the new ones from her.

“What are these?” Robert asked as he looked between the two sets of cards.

“Your notes, but just a little more legible…and in order,” she said with a smile.

Taking the new cards and looking down at them, Robert saw that Y/N had copied his original notes onto the new cards in her own neat handwriting, and had numbered them up in the corner of each one. After looking them over for a moment, he looked back up at her.

“You did this ahead of time?” he asked her.

“I had to. I knew it would take me at least an hour to decipher what you’d hurriedly scratched down on your original ones.”

“And you assumed I wouldn’t be able to read them myself, even though I wrote them?” Robert raised an eyebrow at her.

Quickly, Y/N pulled the new notes out of his hand and held one of his initial ones back in front of his face.

“What’s that say, right there?” she asked him, a playful tone of challenge in her voice.

When Robert admittedly couldn’t tell what he’d written, he looked back at Y/N.

“See?” she said.

“No one likes a gloater,” Robert replied with a smirk. As Y/N smiled back at him amusedly, he had to fight the incredibly strong urge to kiss her.

Yes, once again, he was back to pushing down those kinds of thoughts.

After the incident with his father the previous week, Robert had still planned on finding a time to talk to Y/N. In all honesty, he wanted to try and feel things out, based on what he thought he’d felt from her that day. But he’d quickly retired that idea once they’d seen each other at work again the next day.

Despite what Robert thought he’d picked up on from Y/N, that seemed to have disappeared yet again. She’d returned to behaving very professionally, saying that she’d overreacted and apologizing for it. She’d then quickly changed the subject, and Robert saw that whatever he thought she’d been silently conveying that day, he was wrong yet again.

But when she pulled something like this, it made it so hard to push all that down. As usual, she was killing him with how sweet she was, and Robert once again had to force himself to ignore it.

As Robert gave her that look and she smiled back at him, Y/N once again found it incredibly difficult not to tease him any further or show him any affection. Truthfully, as she stood there and looked back at him, she was pushing down the urge to lean forward and place a small kiss on his lips or run her hand through his hair to affectionately smooth it back. God, how many times had she thought about doing that? Both at work, as well as in some other not so G-rated situations. As the thought crossed her mind, she blushed, and she was greatly relieved when the gentleman who was hosting the grant event that afternoon could be heard over the sound system as he prepared the crowd for Robert’s speech and began the short introduction of him.

Y/N and Robert were standing off to the side of the room behind a partition, and she looked at him again quickly as she pushed the notes she’d written for him back into his hand.

“Don’t rush through it,” she said to him gently right before she walked away. “Just relax and take your time.” She knew he wasn’t nervous; he was used to this kind of thing, but she knew he would likely talk too fast, his mind on a thousand other things.

Not unexpectedly, his speech went off without a hitch, but it was thanks to Y/N, Robert thought to himself. Not only were her notes actually readable, but he’d had to hold back a smile when he’d flipped to one of the cards and she’d written in bright pink ink at the top of the card “SLOW DOWN!” After seeing it, he’d looked up and met her eyes from where she stood at the back of the room, and she’d smiled at him, sensing he’d seen her little comment.

After his speech, Robert and Y/N were kept apart, as they each had an obligation of making their rounds at the event and speaking with employees of the company that had received the grant, and other attendees. There were several other staff from Fischer Morrow there as well, and Y/N had connected with her co-worker and friend, Beth, towards the end of the function as people had begun filtering out. They were standing in the coat check room, which was essentially empty at that point, save for a few remaining coats.

“So that’s two of your major grants Fischer approved in the last month, huh?” Beth said to Y/N as they stood there.

“No, just this one,” Y/N replied. “The last one that went through was two months ago.”

“What about the one for the shelter?” Beth asked. “I had a message today from his receptionist to process the donation through accounting.”

Y/N frowned in confusion.

“What?” she asked Beth. “What do you mean? Maurice overturned that one because they’d missed the deadline. And even though Robert approved it, Maurice refused.”

Beth gave a shrug.

“All I know is that I processed a check today to go out to the shelter for five-grand more than what their grant proposal asked for. Robert’s signature was at the bottom of the authorization.”

Upon hearing that, Y/N tried to understand what had happened. Had Robert gotten Maurice to change his mind? He hadn’t mentioned anything to her. Why would he keep it a secret?

“Anyway,” Beth continued again, changing the subject, “what night this week are you working at the club? I finally have my nights free this week and I wanna come and see when you do your new routine. I listened to the song and I love it!”

“Shhh!” Y/N said quickly as her face flushed and she looked around the small room and over her shoulder. “I’ve told you a million times not to mention that at work! Someone could hear you!”

“Relax, there’s no one here,” Beth said with a mischievous smile. “Besides, what would be so horrible if people found out? It’s not like you’re a stripper or something.”

“It’s still pretty…risqu��. Not exactly something I want anyone from work to know. God, can you imagine?” Y/N gave a small laugh. “Yes, that’s right,” she mimicked a conversation with an imaginary co-worker, “I work here at Fischer Morrow during the day processing grants, and then I moonlight once a week as a burlesque dancer at Plume.” Y/N shook her head and laughed again. “Not exactly boardroom talk,” she said to Beth.

“I think most of the people in the boardroom would find that very interesting,” Beth joked. “You’d probably get most of the men to agree to any grant you want if you gave them a little private show.”

“Oh my God, stop talking!” Y/N said, and slapped her arm.

“Seriously, no one at work but me knows?” Beth asked.

Y/N shook her head.

“No, no one, and I’d like to keep it that way, ok?”

“How do you know for sure that no one has been to Plume and seen you?”

“Name one person at that entire company that you could possibly imagine frequenting a burlesque club?” Y/N countered. “Besides, it’s so tucked away that most people have never even heard of it.”

“True,” Beth said. “But I can think of a few gentleman from the board who’d be lined up to see you if they knew.”

“Well, I never go on before 9:00 pm, and since they’re all in their eighties, they’re all in bed by then anyway, so no problem there,” Y/N joked.

Beth laughed.

“So is that when you’re on this week? 9?” she asked. “What night?”

“Thursday,” Y/N replied quickly. “Now will you please stop talking before someone hears you?!”

But what neither Beth or Y/N knew was that it was too late; they’d already been overheard.

•.•.•.•.•

“Shhh!” Robert heard Y/N’s voice just as he was about to enter the coat room. Instead, he stopped short of the door.

“I’ve told you a million times not to mention that at work. Someone could hear you!” he heard Y/N continue.

Unable to stop himself from eavesdropping, Robert heard Beth speak next.

“Relax, there’s no one here,” she said. “Besides, what would be so horrible if people found out? It’s not like you’re a stripper or something.”

“It’s still pretty…risqué. Not exactly something I want anyone from work to know,” came Y/N’s reply then. “God, can you imagine? Yes, that’s right,” she was mimicking, “I work here at Fischer Morrow during the day processing grants, and then I moonlight once a week as a burlesque dancer at Plume.” She gave a small laugh then. “Not exactly boardroom talk.”

Robert could hardly wrap his head around what he was hearing. Burlesque? Y/N? Y/N moonlit as a burlesque dancer?

At that thought, a thousand images of Y/N flashed through his mind in a matter of seconds, none of which were G-rated, and Robert was still trying to process what he was hearing as the two women continued to talk. After hearing all of it, Robert silently stepped away, still trying to wrap his mind around this new information, of which, he kept repeating to himself one specific detail.

Thursday. 9:00 p.m.

Part 6

@nyxxie-pooh @xsweetcatastrophe @an-eclectic-of-mass-destruction @febris-amatoria @allie131313

@wonderlanddreamer @meister95 @teawonderfultea-blog1 @mspookington-blog @vervainandspritz

@cardan-official @shopgirl6us @cillmurphyslover @lara2719 @murphymania1976

@ll4n4 @the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf @vastcapacity @helftmich @4ria790

@betty21rose @tommyshelby87 @cassandratyrellm @forgottenpeakywriter

[vroomvroomcircuit]

The World did not end

(A/N): 'ello and welcome to my first F1 fic. I'm quite new here (not to fanfic or tumblr, I mean F1), but I want to give back to the F1 community, since you all helped me out tons during a really rough period these last couple of months.

Pairing: Lando Norris x platonic!reader

Warnings: mentions eating food, death of a loved family member, grief, it sounds sad, but it's actually pretty sweet and hopeful (it's based on a tiktok trend), English is not my first language btw

Wordcount: .7k (she is a shorty)

Masterlist ______________

Finding Mclaren’s reserve driver crying in the cafeteria wasn’t what Lando expected to stumble upon, when I went to check out where the repeating music came from. It sounded like a sad song that could land a high spot on his next Spotify wrapped.

“Uhm, (Y/N), what’s wrong?” he asks gently as he approaches the table. After a startle she turns off her phone, which has been playing the music. Frantically, she wipes her tears. It still does nothing against the fact that she has been crying and that her blood shot eyes are very visible.

Lando shakes his head. When people think Oscar is an introverted person, she is the masterclass of introvertedness. Like, the last stage of a pokémon evolution. That’s why seeing (Y/N) cry in a semi public place like the cafeteria calls for concern.

“There has to be something. The food here is not that bad. I mean, I have the same reaction when I see fish being served, too. But today I felt like the meals were rather good. So do tell. What’s bothering you?”

First she shrugs, the twenty year old not being able to find her voice immediately. “The- the world didn’t end when I was 13.” The tears are coming back again, restricting her voice once again.

Lando gathers her into his arms. even though he doesn’t understand what is happening at all. Does that matter right now, though?

The girl needs another minute or two until she is composed enough to explain the reason behind her crying. “There is this Tiktok trend going viral right now. It’s about people saying what mundane things they are able to do, or-or which things they have achieved, and all that because the world did not end when they were a certain age. They mean they got through some heavy event in their life. And because they got through this, they are able to do said things or achieve this.”

He nods, understanding the bittersweet and hopeful outlook this kind of videos can bring. “And something heavy happened to you at 13?” He probes while trying to keep a cautious tone, not wanting to overstep any boundary he doesn’t see.

“My, you see, when I was 13, my grandmother died. This was the first time I felt real grief. I wished for the world to end, because nothingness would have felt better than this immense amount of grief. And this led me to thinking of how many times I wished for the world to end. Because there were important and life changing events approaching me so quickly. When the world ends, I wouldn’t have to go through them, right?

And suddenly I’m 18, writing my final exams in school and it felt like the biggest task in my life. it felt like make or break. But the world did not end. I was able to graduate.

Then I got into the drivers academy, I am training, studying, and meeting people. I’m doing everything and anything. Because the world did not end when I was 13.

And it didn’t end when I was 16, overwhelmed with studying for school. It also did not happen when I was 19 and put under contract to be a reserve driver for Mclaren.

The world never ended. I begged and cried for all of this to stop. To have peace. Because I thought that I would only feel at peace, when nothing happens anymore. And the world didn’t end and now I sit here with you, talking about a tiktok trend.”

Lando understands her train of thought and sentiment immediately. “You know, I’m happy it didn’t end. These past couple of months with you here were pretty fun. Even Oscar admits it! With that true little smile, not in that monotone tone of his. These interviews and the media stuff is much more fun with these silly remarks of yours. And you are an amazing human being. I’m really glad that your world did not end, because meeting you made mine better.”

(Y/N) laughs, the tears being gone and cheeks heating up at that confession. “I’m glad too. Otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to ravish my way through the mountain of pasta minutes before you came in.” They giggle, knowing they share similar food preferences and have the culinary plate of a four year old toddler.

And all that, because the world did not end.

[captain-mj]

I was thinking this like Roach is dead and Ghost haven't really moved on from him, BUT he has Soap now, and Ghost has a ''conversation'' with Roach about that. Roach is like ''he's there and I'm not, you need to move on and he's (soap) is everything you ever wanted and needed, please give him a change, he will make you happier than ever''

This might have been done many times but I'd like to see your twist on it.

ps. your content here/on ao3/tiktok is amazing

So I got this ask right before making the tiktok I made today but didn't see it until just now and I feel like the stars really aligned for this one

Incredibly short because I'm super emotional and started crying like a dweeb

Ghost never let go of Roach's dogtags. They sat, for the most part, in one of his drawers, wrapped in a piece of cloth from his uniform. He never touched them if he could help it.

When he and Soap had become official, Ghost still felt a flicker in his chest at the thought, he had told Soap about them. He had quickly reassured him that he had moved on. Ghost had made sure of it, going to therapy, putting in effort, before he ever considered actually making Soap his. The one thing he never wanted Soap to do is feel like he had to compete with him.

Soap had only smiled at him and said he understood. He didn't need Simon to stop caring for Roach. Stop... loving Roach. He just... understood. Like he always did.

So Ghost had continued to hold on to them. Their relationship progressed slowly for a couple of reasons. Ghost's issues around sex and intimacy, Soap's focus on his career, the missions that kept them apart. But Soap's dogtags had a skull on them and Ghost's had a Scottish flag pendant. Official as two men like them could be.

Ghost, for the first time in months, unwrapped Roach's dogtags to inspect them. They glittered still. Couldn't really get dirty where they were.

"Hey, Roach."

Unknown to him, Roach sat next to him. He didn't stay there often, mostly enjoying the peace of the afterlife. It was boring, but he treated it like retirement. Eventually, his friends would die and he knew it wouldn't be so boring.

"Hey Simon." Speaking was new to him. Hadn't been able to do it when he was 14 and an accident crushed his vocal chords. But being dead meant you didn't have those same injuries. Didn't have a body to have them.

"I haven't talked to you in a while. Sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it." Roach answered, leaning into him. Simon shivered, like he could feel him there.

"I don't... love you anymore. I feel guilty for it. We were friends for so long. I still love you that way. But I... I'm not in love with you anymore." Simon took his mask off. "You mean a lot to me, old friend. But you're not mine anymore. And I'm not yours."

Roach smiled. "I know. And God, I'm happy for you. I wish we had more time, but since we didn't, I'm glad Soap is the one there for you. You two fit so well." He rested his hand on Simon's, noticing briefly that their hands no longer fit together as well as they used to. Ghost stared at them before moving his hand, their fingers intertwining.

"I feel you sometimes." Ghost responded to the air and Roach had no way of knowing if he knew he was there or if it was just grief.

"Oh, Simon. Please, keep giving Soap a chance. Be happy for me. The two of you should live enough life for all three of us and I'll see you again."

Simon let out small sound. Not quite a sob. It hurt Roach's chest.

"It's alright to let me go. I want you to finally let me go. Get rid of the tags."

Simon held them tight, until they made indents in his palm. "I know... I know..."

Roach kissed his cheek. "He loves you. A lot. Just as much as me." More than me. Soap was alive and he looked at Ghost like he hung the stars and Ghost looked at him like he hung the moon and Roach loved them both the more for it.

Simon gave the tags to Price. He didn't want them in the trash. Price offered to let him know what he did with them, but Simon refused.

Soap noticed they were gone from the drawer. Some of the clothes he kept in Ghost's room had been moved over. Not quite displacing where it would be, more just taking up more of the space in the drawer. He didn't feel relieved they were gone, but he was happy Simon could finally let them go.

[lyfedda]

Not an open RP

CW: mild talk of grief and very light description of gross stuff

Ft. @elysium-passge

Enjoy!

Numbness was all Lyf felt as they walked into the cemetery, a hefty case in their hand. Not even a month had passed. Lyf was a mess, though. They wanted nothing more than to curl into their bed and never move again. Maybe close their eyes and just never open them again. However, they still opened, and they still hated every second of being alive without Sinclair by their side.

They missed them dearly, and they didn't know what to do with their emotions. If they felt too many at once, they started to glow, and the world was suddenly in danger. Felt too little, and Yog-Sothoth was eating at their mind. The medication Marius got for them was helping. They owed him so much for everything he was doing and putting up with, along with dealing with his own grief. Lyf truly wasn't good enough for him.

"Hello, love," Lyf said as they got to their plot. "I... I don't even know what to say. I haven't done this before. We usually burn our deceased. It's... strange, knowing you're just down there. It's been... hard. Without you. The cats miss you," they said, sitting down on the dirt. "I know, I know. They're not cats. I can hear you saying that... you loved reminding me."

Staring at the case, Lyf opened it and pulled out the instrument. "I didn't tell you because I knew you'd tell Marius, and I'd never hear the end of it. I started learning how to play some instruments. My favorite is the guitar, so far. Tim has been helping me. I... thought you might like it."

With that, the positioned the guitar properly and tuned it. "I... hope you enjoy this," they said and started playing a sightly off-key version of Helena. It was their favorite, after all. They sang softly. At least the words they knew.

Deep down, they knew Sinclair would love it. Even if they'd tease them mercilessly for being such a damn sap.

Lyf paid no mind to their tears.

"Lyf," someone whispered and they stopped. They turned their head slowly, looking around. They knew that voice. That wasn't possible, though. No... No, they were imagining things. They shook their head and looked back at the grave.

"Lyfrassir," the voice came back and Lyf was on their feet.

"Sinclair?" Lyf knew it wasn't possible. They knew it wasn't possible. Sinclair was dead. They saw their body with their own eyes.

... but what if there was a chance?

Lyf left the guitar and walked, following the voice. They had to know.

"In here, Lyf," the voice said again and they followed alone. In front of them was a mausoleum. That was where they were. The door was left ajar.

Against their better judgment, Lyf walked through the door, careful not to close the door behind them.

The door still slammed closed and Lyf was faced with an endless line of tombs. Both old and new, dirty and clean, broken and refurbished. Lyf took a step. They knew something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

"You made that so easy!" A voice said from behind them and Lyf turned quickly. Before them was a woman they'd never seen before. She was smiling wide. Too wide. She looked a little too pleased with herself. "Is that all it took? A little cry of your name and you come running?! I wish everyone was as pathetic as you!" She laughed and Lyf didn't like the sound of it.

Lyf looked around. Looking for a way out. A new door. Something. The old one wouldn't work, would it? Would they even be able to go back? Firstly, though...

"You were acting as them," Lyf said, not needing an answer. It was rather obvious wasn't it? "You tricked me... They're dead."

Destiny pursed her lips. "Well… yeah!" She laughed, sounding positively mad. She looked over the poor bastard. "Sorry, baby. Had to get you here somehow. Thank you for being such a sucker that you really thought they were alive!" She laughed again, turning to leave. "You should be okay for a day or two, but you'll gradually start to lose yourself in the halls! Sorry! Girls got to eat!"

Lyf was angry. Lyf was more than angry, they were hurt. They felt so much pain. They were so tired of feeling pain.

"You have one chance here. Let me go and everything will be fine. I'll forget this happened and I'll go back to my lover's grave. No one has to get hurt," Lyf said, their voice relatively calm despite the rage inside of their chest. Ready to come out.

Destiny laughed again. "I don't think you understand your situation here."

"No," Lyf whispered, their hair beginning to glow from under the wig they wore. Their 'normal' disguise seemingly melting away in an instant. "You're the one who doesn't understand."

Destiny felt something she hadn't felt in a very, very long time. Pure fear. The feeling of dread in her gut. The chill up her spine. The goosebumps on her skin. She took a step back. "I.. I thought.."

"You thought," Lyf cut her off, taking a step forward as their eyes began to glow, "that I was just some human who you could prey on." There was some amusement in their voice. They were amused, after all. They hadn't felt so strong in quite some time. "That was a silly thing to assume."

Destiny's back was against a wall. No... no, it was too squishy to be a wall. She turned and screamed upon seeing a slimy, bleeding blob of flesh and bones, teeth and skin. It screamed back. "Kill us," it pleaded, a hand reaching out for her. She backed away and tripped over her own two feet, falling on to wooden tracks. Looking around, Destiny's eyes were wide as her domain was broken down and transformed into something else. Something new.

"Welcome to the Bifrost." There was a grin on Lyf's face, one too wide and tearing the corners of their mouth, but was all their own.

Destiny screamed again, trying to summon a door, trying to find a way out, but her powers seemed... muted somehow. "W-Wait! Wait, I... I know where Sinclair is!"

That made Lyf pause. Not for very long. A tentacle wrapped around Destiny and pulled her close, nose to nose with Lyf. They said nothing for a long moment. A long time passed. It could have been minutes, it could have been days.

Destiny had no way of telling.

Then, a new tentacle wrapped around her throat. Not tight. Yet. "Where are they?" they asked simply, plainly. Their tone was quiet yet it somehow echoed around the rainbow hellscape.

"I have their soul. They've been with me this whole time! They're safe and sound. Y-You can come see for yourself!" Destiny said, gasping when they tentacle tightened around their throat and she couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe! She didn't want to die like this. Not like this!

Then she was suddenly back in the graveyard. Lyfrassir was there, fixing themself. As if none of that happened. As if Destiny wasn't on her hands and knees, gasping for air.

"Elysium Passage, then? I'll be there tomorrow," Lyf said, adjusting their jacket and pulling up their hood so no one saw their hair or eyes or face or really anything without any disguise on. "For your sake, I hope you're not lying."

Then they left.

Destiny stared at them. She kept staring until they were gone. Even then, she stared for a while after. There was only one thought in her mind.

How did she get them on her side?

[nightfurylover31]

Since the first part of @starrjoy's Pandora AU is reaching its climax, I decided to write something in between. With all that Sonic has lost he did end up gaining something very important. I hope this doesn't end up contradicting anything in the story, and that you all enjoy.

It had been some time since… that day. The guilt and grief still weighed heavily on Sonic like a thousand tons. His home, his people, his family… all gone. He was completely alone. And it was his fault. He finally got to see the world, but it cost him everything. 

While traveling, Sonic eventually came across Dr. Robotnik, the scientist his mother told him about. The one whom had been threatening the other islands. Trapping animals in his machines, and using his robots to destroy the forests. It was all so wrong. Sonic made it his mission to stop this Robotnik. After what he had done, he felt he owed to it to everyone that was lost on Christmas Island, especially his family. Even a year after his first encounter with Robotnik, the pain in Sonic’s heart had not lessened. He tried masking it with humor and taunts, just laughing at most things to hide how he truly felt. But he felt incomplete, like nothing could ever fill the void he left upon himself. 

He was resting under a tree on Westside Island. Sonic wrapped his arms around his crouched legs, hiding the tears that he could feel forming. He wanted to stop the hurt, but at the same time, he wanted to suffer for what he had done. If he had listened to his brother and sister, if he had just stopped and thought things through, none of this would have happened. Dora’s words still rung in his head. How he was supposedly some sort of destined hero. He was nothing more than a selfish idiot. 

“What difference does it make?” Sonic finally spoke. He was alone, no one could hear him anyway. “Even if I do stop this Ro-butt-nik, it’s not going to bring everyone back. It’s not going to make things right. I wish I could—“ 

Sonic’s train of thought was lost when he heard voices. Something like laughter. He got up and peered out from behind the bushes. He saw three foxes, one smaller than the other two, and clearly being picked on. 

“Stop it! Please!” the young one cried as one of the older kids pulled on his tail. 

“Aw, is the little freak gonna cry?” 

Sonic clenched his fists in frustration. How could anyone be that mean? He wanted to intervene, but… 

No, he thought to himself. I’ll just make it worse. Like I do with everything else. I just bring bad things to others. He was about to turn around and walk away.

“Pull harder! Maybe it’ll come off!” 

“NO!” 

As if on instinct, Sonic ran right passed all three of them, knocking the two bigger kids over.

“What was that?!” 

“I don’t know!” 

Sonic zoomed back around, and glared at the duo. “It’s one thing to pick on someone, but two-on-one? And someone who’s younger than you?” He took a step forward. “If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s bullies.” 

The two were shaking in fear, and then turned tail and ran. Not as fast as Sonic, but enough to get out of there. The blue hedgehog turned around, checking on the yellow fox. “You okay?” He asked. 

“Y-yeah…” The young kit stared at him. Almost as if in amazement. “That was—“ But before he could continue, Sonic took off. 

I can’t stick around. I can’t get close to others. I’d be just a burden to them.

When Sonic thought he was a good distance away, he made it back to his plane. That’s how he had been managing to get from island to island. He couldn’t stand the thought of going by boat. Being near the water. Not after…

“Wait!” 

Sonic looked back and saw the fox from before. He was still a good few yards away, but he managed to find Sonic so fast. It almost looked like there was a propeller behind him.

How did he…? No one’s ever been able to keep up with me before! 

The kit ran up to Sonic, stopping only to catch his breath. He was gasping deeply, obviously not used to running so much. 

“How did you find…?” Sonic began to ask, but something caught his eye. He didn’t notice before from a distance. He began to inspect the fox and the surprising sight. “You… have two tails?” 

The kid turned to his appendages, and nodded. “Yeah. That’s why those guys were picking on me.” 

Sonic did a quick scan of the extra. “That’s… pretty cool! I’ve never seen anything like that!” Heck, Sonic was always fascinated by things that were different, but this took the cake. A fox with two tails! Way past cool!

“Really?” the young kit blushed. He clearly wasn’t used to compliments. “W-well it’s not as cool as you are. I’ve never seen anything move so fast. You were amazing!” 

Sonic couldn’t help but chuckle. He smirked and brushed his nose. “It was nothing. I wasn’t even going that fast.” 

“You mean you can run even faster than that? Really?!” The kid’s eyes seemed to grow twice their size. 

“Oh, easily!” Sonic bragged. It was nice to be be able to show off a bit. But the ache in his heart suddenly started again. He shouldn’t stay.

“It’s been nice talking, and I’m glad I could help, but I have to get going. Just gotta fix my plane. You know where I can find a repair shop or something?” That was pretty much the reason Sonic stopped on the island in the first place. Something was up with the engine, maybe? He knew nothing about machines. 

“Let me take a look.” 

Sonic looked a bit confused by the fox’s words. He pulled out the toolbox Sonic kept under the seat, opened the panel, and started working. 

“You can fix it?” 

“Maybe. I’m pretty good with tools. I do stuff like this all the time.” 

This kid was full of surprises. Sonic watched as he worked. He even seemed to be enjoying it. He went from the controls to the propellers, and then the engine. Giving the plane a full inspection. Sonic had never seen anyone who loved to fix machines since— 

WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS STICKING YOUR NOSE INTO MY BUSINESS?!

Sonic felt his heart drop. That was the last thing he said to Manic. He never should have yelled. It was one of the things he regretted most. And now he’ll never be able to apologize. He’d never see his family again... 

“Are you okay?” The voice suddenly brought Sonic back to his senses. Good thing too, he could feel his eyes starting to burn. 

“Yeah, just lost in thought. You done already?” 

“Yep. It’s pretty well maintained, but it’s important you pay attention to the equipment.” 

“Man, two tails and a mechanic? Your folks must have their hands full with you,” Sonic joked. 

However, that just seemed to make the fox’s ears droop. His tails became limp. “I…I don’t have any.” 

Sonic’s eyes widened. “No parents? What about siblings? Friends? Anyone?” All were met with sad head shakes. 

“Everyone in my village thinks my two tails are weird. I’m kind of on my own.” 

With that, a new pain began to form in Sonic. This kid… was just like him. Different, and all alone in the world. Not only that, he was a lot younger. The hedgehog decided it would be better to be by himself, but he couldn’t leave this poor kid. But still…

After some thought, Sonic scratched the back of his head, and took a few steps closer. “What’s your name, kid?” 

“Oh, uh I’m Miles Prower. But everyone calls me ‘Tails’.” 

Sonic leaned to the side a bit to adjust his gaze. “Because of the extra tail?” 

“Hehe, yeah.” 

“Well Tails, I’m Sonic. Sonic the Hedgehog. And if you can keep up, would you interested in going on an adventure?” 

Tails stared in shock. “You mean it?!” 

“As long as you don’t slow me down. Maybe help keep the plane in tiptop shape.” 

“Yes! YES!” With that, his tails started spinning and spinning and… suddenly Tails was off the ground. 

“Hold up! You can fly with those?!” 

Tails turned around and slowly descended. “Uh, yeah. A little bit.” 

Sonic smiled and held out his hand. “Tails, I have a feeling you and I are going to get along just fine.” Tails beamed and happily shook Sonic’s hand. 

————————

The night sky couldn’t be more clear. Not a cloud in sight, far from any town, and the stars illuminated the area with only a sliver of moonlight. A perfect night for stargazing. 

Sonic was relaxing, looking up and trying to find as many constellations as he could. He heard footsteps, but didn’t bother diverting his attention as Tails sat down beside him. 

“See any shooting stars yet?” his little brother asked. 

“Not yet, but the night’s still young.” 

After so many crazy adventures lately, it was nice to kick back and take it easy. They sat for awhile, taking in the crickets and other night noises. 

“Sonic, you remember the day we met?” 

“That was years ago. What brought that up suddenly?” 

“I don’t know. Just feeling nostalgic, I guess.” 

At this point, Sonic pushed himself back on his hands for support and let out a light chuckle. “As if I could ever forget the best day of my life.” 

"That's my line," Tails snickered a bit, and then continued. “You really saved me that day.” 

“Those bullies were giving you a hard time, but ‘saved you’ seems like bit—“ 

“No, I mean how took me in. Everyone thought I was just some freak. You were the first person to believe in me. You inspired me to be a hero. To believe in myself. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. Thank you, Sonic.” 

“Careful, you’re going to make one of us start crying.” Sonic teased while flicking his pal’s nose. Tails started laughing at the jester, while Sonic just stared fondly. 

You’re wrong there, buddy. You save me that day. That was the first time I felt genuinely happy in so long. That I could do something right. Thank you, Tails. For being my friend. For being my brother.

[nevis-the-skeleton]

Tea : What if the real reason why Starscream acts the way he does is because he had a glitch in his systems that only allowed him to feel negative emotions and never positive ones. Ratchet found this out and removed the glitch which turned Starscream back to normal. Not normal for the Autobots but you get what I mean.

He had this glitch when he was a child.

After the glitch was removed everything about him changed. He had more blue on him was was a lot more quite and cheerful. His optics ware also a soft blue. His voice changed in to a mellow and soft comforting one.

He feels remorse for Arcee for killing her partner. (request on Ao3)

Ooh, I feel like it's gonna be sad again (TvT)…

~~~

He had never managed to feel what others felt around him, there were many emotions he felt, deep in his Spark, yes. But some of them were totally unknown to him. It wasn't that he didn't understand them, on the contrary, he did. He just couldn't feel them.

When the others laughed around him, he laughed with them, because it was easier that way. But when they laughed, he didn't feel that intense joy that leads to laughter. All he felt was jealousy, grief, and above all a lot of anger.

Anger, it was always omnipresent around him, invasive even. No matter what he did, he was always angry… The second emotion was fear… he was always afraid… His first fear being that people would find out how abnormal he was… Jealousy was the third emotion. In fact, he didn't understand why he couldn't feel like the others, why he had to fight against his emotions, when everyone seemed in harmony with them. He came to envy Shockwave, who had nothing to suffer…

And the last one was sorrow… Every night he couldn't stop crying, after spending the day holding back his tears… He was just sick of it…sick of being him… he couldn't stop himself, prevent him from hating himself, when nothing was able to bring him an ounce of joy... He came to the wish of death, but fear always prevented him from welcoming it properly...

But now, even though he was still trying to push it away, it was finally going to be able to come. He had no chance of getting away with it this time, it would truly be a miracle. To think that he was going to die after trying to run away… He didn't think Megatron had damaged him so badly, so badly that it wouldn't let him fly away. But, he also told himself that he was very unlucky to have survived his fall… He also blamed himself for having been stupid enough to leave…

With the Decepticons, he never had to worry about his problem… He never had any reason to be happy with them… And frankly, that suited him… at least he knew why he was always so bad… He didn't need to wonder anymore… no one was happy, like him… He knew where his suffering came from, and that allowed him to ignore the one who lacerated his Spark every day… that sometimes hurt so much it was hard to just get up...

Starscream looked at the sky that had abandoned him, when he couldn't even rejoice that he had finally found what he had spent his time looking for, never with the courage to get it... Death welcomed him with open arms, and his Spark still managed to refuse it, while his mind only wanted to join it.

The Seeker couldn't move, and he found no relief there... He apparently never will, even now... He had tried everything to achieve some form of what others called happiness, but each time it was a failure... He spent his time pretending to be happy and content, while his Spark was impossibly empty of such things...

The jet saw a green light forming in his peripheral vision and found enough strength to turn his head. He saw the form of Ratchet and Optimus come closer, and couldn't even get over it… Either way, something will happen that either his Spark or his mind doesn't want… First, they kill him, which terrifies him… And in the other case, they save him, which he don't wish… He doesn't say anything, not wanting his Spark to speak, because it was always him who was coming to speak the loudest...

The conscience eventually left him, the injuries finally getting the better of him, preventing him from knowing the Autobots' choice, even though his real wish was that he never wake up again.

~

Ratchet and Optimus did not return alone, much to the surprise of the others. Arcee started to get angry, arguing that Starscream was an enemy, but the doctor quickly cut her off, replying:

"Tell that to Optimus!"

He go to the medical bay, accompanied by the Prime, who had been the one who had insisted on bringing the Seeker. After the leader of the Autobots installed the jet, the ambulance began to do analyzes to visualize the extent of the damage, and also preferred to check Starscream's processor, as his helmet was quite damaged. He preferred to be sure that there would be no irreversible damage. The Seeker might be an enemy, but that didn't mean he was going to rush his job.

The rest of the team watched him at work with the children, and Miko cried out:

“What the hell is he doing here?!

- Optimus forgets again that we're at war, that's all… Arcee huffed.

- Arcee…! Bulkhead scolded softly.

- What?! It's true!

- If it's to complain, get the hell out of my medical bay!" Ratchet get angry.

The group quickly flees, unwilling to suffer the doctor's terrifying wrath. The ambulance continued his work grumbling, especially against Optimus and his idea of ​​bringing an enemy back to their base, even injured, when he noticed something strange in Starscream's processor. Ratchet frowned, then widened his optics in shock when he realized what it was!

"Primus! Optimus, come see!!" exclaimed the doctor.

The latter arrived quickly, with a slightly worried expression, and the ambulance pulled him towards him, before pointing to the screen, and continued:

“Look at that! I can't even understand how he can still be alive!"

Prime frowned, and turned to his friend, before asking:

"Is that what I think?

- Yes!

- What does he think?" asked a voice.

The pair turned to see Miko, and Ratchet was about to chase her away, but the Autobots leader instead welcomed her. She was quickly followed by the other two children, who were waiting to see if they could go.

"They're going to bother me! snapped the doctor.

- We didn't do anything ! Chill! replied the Japanese girl.

- What did you see that worries you so much?" Jack questioned.

The ambulance sighed a little, before showing some of his analysis on Starscream's processor, then asked:

“Do you see that?

- Yeah? What is it? Miko asked.

- It's a glitch.

- A glitch? repeated Raf.

- Yes, a malfunction in his processor.

- You think it's due to his helmet injury?

- Oh no, clearly not! Everything suggests that it has been there for much longer!

- A subsequent injury? Optimus asked.

- No.

- When then?! the young girl asked impatiently.

- Always.

- Always?! wondered the leader of the Autobots.

- You better understand why I'm surprised he's still alive now?!

- Is it so surprising? Jack said, not quite understanding how it could be so bad. I mean, do you never get viruses?"

Ratchet raised his optics, then replied:

“Although we are not machines as you imagined, we do have diseases sometimes, but that is not one. This, it's is very integrity that is disturbed, and that can only happen with an injury to the processor, or in his case, a "manufacturing" defect.

- That's a bit of a rush way of presenting things. said Optimus.

- It's so they understand.

- And, is it fixable? asked Raf.

- Yes it is.

- It's difficult, but it's doable. added the leader of the Autobots. It's especially that Ratchet is very good at what he does, it's not given to any doctor, this is also one of the reasons that may explain why this glitch was never fixed when it was only minimal.

- I want to clarify that it is not sure that I can fix it."

The doctor had felt compelled to clarify, not wanting to give false hope like he had done with Bumblebee for his voice box. The ambulance sighed softly, shaking his head, and finally Miko asked:

“But what is his “glitch” exactly?"

Ratchet hesitated to answer, but the insistent and curious gaze of the children finally made him give in.

“He has a glitch in the processing of emotions. He has a restricted level of feelings which are not always appropriate to the situation in front of him. His processor fails to connect to his Spark, which is unable to send him the correct emotions in a certain situation.

- And in short…? asked the Japanese girl.

- In short, he is unable to feel any positive emotion."

The young girl then had a pained and horrified expression, then mumbled:

"But it's awful...

- It's the least we can say… sighed the doctor. And that's not the only problem… There are also chronic pains. Those who suffer from glitches necessarily have them, and sometimes the pain is so violent that the robot prefers to kill themself. That's also why I wonder how Starscream can still be alive… Given the magnitude of his glitch, the pain in his Spark must be unbearable! Besides his lack of emotions such as love and joy, or even satisfaction, he has nothing that pushes him to continue living...

- Why? Is it so important?

- You have emotions just as much as we do. Would you see yourself living a life without being able to feel love with your family or friends? Without being able to be happy in the present moment? For him, even eating is not a pleasure in itself, surely for him it doesn't even have a taste."

The children had a saddened expression, then Raf remarked:

“However, he doesn't seem to be with so few emotions, quite the contrary even.

- It's pure mimicry. You can be sure that if he laughs, it's not especially because the situation amuses him, he's doing like the others, that's all. And the war turn everything upside down… It was not uncommon to see some laugh at a corpse, and you can be sure Starscream would have laughed with them.

- … Creepy… said Miko.

- Hm… I understand your point of view Ratchet. joined Jack. I don't see what's keeping him alive either.

- Nothing… answered Optimus. Nothing holds him back...

- But then, why?

- Well, it seems that despite his lack of life, he still has an irrational fear of death. It's fear that keeps him from dying...

- … It's sad…

- Yeah, but it doesn't matter since it's fixable! encouraged the Japanese girl.

- Maybe fixable! the doctor felt compelled to clarify.

- Yes! Whatever!"

Optimus gently waved the children out of the medical bay with him, to let the ambulance work quietly. What he was about to do was a difficult process, and he should not be disturbed.

Prime took the opportunity to explain the whole situation to the others, and they were quite skeptical… Of course they didn't question Ratchet's diagnosis, but they wondered if this operation was really going to change anything. Starscream would stay Starscream no matter what. Surely he suffered, yes, but that didn't change the fact that he was always a little fragger with them.

Arcee was the most suspicious… In her humble opinion they should have let him die. Ratchet was wasting time on this flawed enemy, why couldn't they let the Decepticons deal with it?!

“The Decepticons must ignore it just as much as we did, not so long ago. Optimus declared.

- I don't see why he wanted so much to hide that from them. sighed the motorbike.

- Because it could very well have been used against him, in one way or another.

- … True… But, I don't think it will help him if we fix him… How do you think he's going to feel? There is no way to give him a proper psychological follow-up, recovering new emotions will not be an easy task for him, and his chronic pain will remain for a long time."

Although Arcee didn't like Starscream, she was oddly the most invested in it. She didn't like him, it was true, but she still managed to understand the eternal cycle of pain that a single day must be for him. She had already seen a robot suffer from a glitch when she worked as a police officer. He was a criminal who seemed to be constantly searching for something, but seemed unable to find that one thing he couldn't even name.

As the others continued to discuss, under the watchful ears of the children, Ratchet did his best to mend the bag of knots that was the Seeker as best he could, both physically and mentally.

~

When the jet came to his senses, he didn't quite understand where he was... In fact, he was doing his best to fall unconscious again, fearing of having to continue to endure the torrent of emotions that would soon assail his Spark... But strangely, even after a long time of waiting, nothing happened.

The mist around the flyer finally parted little by little, and he faced two heads above, which was none other than Ratchet and Optimus! Starscream gasped in surprise and sat up quickly, before stepping back onto the medical table, his body tense. Again, the fear was not a total panic, which did not fail to disturb the Seeker. Primus, was he losing those emotions too?! He was withdrawing what he had thought before! He didn't want to be like Shockwave!

"It's alright Starscream, calm down." tried to calm the doctor.

The jet raised his wings in a threatening stance, when he saw the ambulance approaching a little too close, but his wariness finally dissipated when Ratchet showed no signs of hostility. The flyer felt his fear lessen little by little, giving way to a strange feeling that he couldn't even describe.

"How are you feeling, are you okay? Ratchet asked.

- What… What…?" Starscream stammered, but he instantly put his hand over his mouth when he heard his voice.

Was that him?! It was not his voice, it was not possible! There was a resemblance, yes, but usually it's much less sweet… It was even the first time he spoke without necessarily having a sore throat.

“I can understand that you're surprised, but don't worry, it's normal. said the doctor.

- Normal…?

- Yes, your glitch caused a lot of trouble, but now that I removed it, some things fixed themselves.

- A glitch…? What?

- You didn't know…?"

The ambulance frowned with a hint of concern and surprise, and repeated:

"You didn't know that?!"

Starscream just nodded, unable to say anything. He was so stunned by what he had just learned that he didn't know what to say… So, all this time, he had a glitch…! Was that why he was the way he was?! The Seeker felt that strange emotion inside him again, and that's when the doctor's words came back to him.

"You removed it…? finally asked the flyer.

- Hmm…? What? Ratchet replied in disbelief.

- The glitch… you…

- Oh! Yes! I removed it, Starscream! I'm not promising you that everything will be completely back to normal, but…”

The jet didn't listen to the rest of the speech, there was so much going on inside him that he couldn't process anything…! Ah! It hurt again! What was all he felt! He understood nothing! How was he supposed to react to all this?! Was he happy?! Sad?! Relieved?! Terrified?! Why couldn't he even interpret emotions that he usually understood?!

The ambulance was quick to notice Starscream's state of panic, and gently grabbed his shoulders, before saying:

“Hey! Look at me! Everything is fine, okay?!"

The Seeker complied, but he still didn't know what to do! What was the most appropriate reaction to this situation?! Was there at least one?! The jet wanted to push the doctor away, when he noticed that part of his hands, up to the wrists, had changed color! They were blue! Blue!

The flyer could not repress a scream of shock, when he was now convinced that his body had been changed! All this glitch stuff was bullscrap! They were trying to bamboozle him!

Ratchet remained calm, despite Starscream's panic, and forced him to lie down. The Seeker ventilated erratically, and didn't even know if struggling was the right thing to do! He had lost all his bearings, while his Spark was just doing anything!

“I know you're scared and don't understand, Starscream. said the doctor softly.

- Scared?! I can't even tell if I'm scared! panicked the jet.

- And it's normal, you have to get used to new emotions. Your glitch prevented you from having access to most of them, that's why you are in this state now. But I promise you you'll get used to it.

- How am I going to achieve such a thing?! It's impossible!

- Starscream, relax, try to focus on the positive.

- But how do you expect me to do that?! I don't even know how to do it!!"

It was then that Optimus approached the duo, and suddenly took Starscream in his arms, to the surprise of the latter, but also of Ratchet. The Seeker was totally frozen in place, not knowing how to react. Even if, usually he knew… Before, he knew… He had always hated physical contact, deep disgust was always the only thing he could feel… But this time, he didn't feel anything like that…

He wouldn't even be able to describe what he felt, or even define it, but he could at least say that it didn't hurt, and that it wasn't unpleasant... And since the antonym of "unpleasant" is "pleasant" he could only conclude that this was it: pleasant. Of course he still had concerns, especially his color change, but Ratchet seemed able to read minds, as he was quick to say:

“If you're wondering about your color change, know that it's normal.

- Really?"

Optimus slowly backed away from the Seeker, who was much calmer now. His wings were in a more relaxed position, and the jet even felt a slight prick in his back, though this was surely the first time his wings had gone into such a loose position.

"Yes. Your glitch was preventing your body from adopting an accurate color palette, so your processor made you mostly gray. But now that I've fixed the problem, your processor is fixing everything on its own. As for your optics-

- What?! What's wrong with my optics?!

- Nothing serious, don't worry." quickly reassured the doctor.

He passed Starscream a mirror to back up his point, and the Seeker couldn't hide his surprise when he saw that his optics were now sky blue. The jet frowned, and said:

“I don't see why my optics felt the need to change color!

- I told you, everything is not completely fixed, I must keep you under surveillance, because your processor and your Spark continue to be in conflict. And this change is a proof of conflict. But, again, I repeat myself, it's nothing serious, OK?

- O… OK…

- Good."

The other Autobots were quick to enter, and then Bumblebee asked:

"Can we come in?"

The children were also with them, and despite some reluctance at first, Ratchet invited them in to meet the real Starscream. They couldn't hide a certain surprise when they saw the Seeker's color change, but suspected that it must have something to do with the glitch.

Bulkhead moved a little closer, accompanied by Miko, and waved lightly at the jet. The flyer lowered his head, not knowing at all how to react… The custom would be for him to say hello, but there was so much going on inside him that he couldn't even think. The Japanese girl noticed Starscream's discomfort, and said:

"Hey, don't worry. No need to be so stressed."

Strangely, the young girl's somewhat awkward attempt to reassure him was pleasant to him, as he was now able to interpret it, and he smiled. The Seeker couldn't hide some surprise, but for once his surprise wasn't horrible like it had always been. But he quickly lost his smile when his gaze met Arcee's.

The motorbike didn't fail to notice, and the jet quickly looked away. He didn't really know why but he was ashamed to look at her… In fact, now that he felt all these new things in him, he understood a little better why the warrior could have been sad after the loss of Cliffjumper… Maybe that as for him with Optimus, it was nice for her to spend time with Cliffjumper…

Starscream felt the sadness welling up inside him again, and he did his best not to cry… He usually managed it all the time, but this was strangely more difficult, without his really understanding why… The Seeker ends up feeling tears running down his cheeks, under the rather surprised gaze of the others.

The jet quickly put his hands in front of his face, and curled up on himself with his wings lowered… Ratchet moved closer with concern, and placed a hand on his shoulder, before asking:

“Eh…? Do you hurt somewhere?

- I'm sorry…" sobbed the flyer.

Starscream continued to cry, repeating over and over again:

"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…! I did not know…! Sorry… ! I'm sorry... I'm sorry...!"

The doctor had a slightly chagrined expression, then it was then that he saw Arcee approaching the Seeker, before taking him a little awkwardly in her arms. The jet gave a small gasp of surprise, but this calmed him from crying. The motorcycle sighed a little, before asking:

“What are you sorry about?

- For everything...! I'm sorry for everything…!" sobbed the flyer.

Bulkhead rubbed Starscream's back, and said:

“Come on, come on, no more crying now. You have the possibility of having other emotions, don't stay in sorrow."

Bumblebee added himself, as well as the children. The flyer lowered his wings, while too much was happening inside him... He felt a new emotion, which slowly dissipated his sadness. But this time, it really seemed to disappear, it wasn't holed up in his Spark like before, still waiting to get out. No, this time it was simply non-existent.

Starscream tried to interpret the strange emotions that caused the pain in his Spark to disappear, but never quite succeeded. Eventually he gave up, just letting these new emotions sink in, welcoming them with open arms.

[untilmynextstory]

Elia Week 2024 Day 3: Elia + Her Nieces/Nephews, Princess ("Queen") x Knight I took a bit of liberties with this prompt. AO3

Today should be a joyous day for her family - the Realm. Yet Elia wanted to scream and cry. She wanted further away from the Red Keep - King’s Landing. She wished she would have married Baelor Hightower, and this day may have never come to fruition. Maybe everything that had happened in the past 20 years wouldn’t have happened. 

All she could do was watch in grief and mourn the life her nephew would never get to live as his uncle placed a white cloak around his shoulders. 

Elias Martell was born five years after the Battle of the Trident. 

His birth was sudden and took everyone by surprise. It was the first birth Elia had witnessed of her brothers' children. 

Elia tried not to have favorites. She loved her children, nieces, and nephews equally. However, Elias was dear to her heart. She liked to think it was because he was her namesake. 

King’s Landing was a city that had always felt isolated, even before the Tourney of Harrenhal, the disappearance of Rhaegar, and the death of Aerys. 

If Elia had felt out of place as a Dornish Princess, being a Dornish Queen paled in comparison, primarily when she had been forced to inherit a crumbling dynasty. 

She knew she would never be accepted at court because she was Dornish. No matter what good she tried to do for the city, realm, and her children; it wasn’t enough to wash away the rumors and pity her husband had cloaked her in from his actions. 

No one would forget how Rhaegar had caused half of the realm to be widows and orphans, especially not when there was a live reminder living in court. 

However, she watched as most of the nobles conveniently forgot their King's actions if it made them closer to that wretched throne. 

Her brown eyes watched in disinterest as her husband worked the floor. She knew later that she would have to hear him complain about the politicking he still had to do as King. There had been a time she had enjoyed the complaints, but now it seemed she had to suffer for her husband as he held on to a relic of their fractured past. 

And she knew they were now having such a celebration because of who the new Kingsguard was. Yet, she found nothing joyous about her nephew taking these vows. 

She didn’t care he would be protecting her son - the future king - nor that he had been taught under the guidance of his father and uncles. 

She wanted anyone with a drop of Martell or Dornish blood to be far away from a place like King’s Landing. But ambition had cursed her blood. 

She had been surprised when Oberyn and Cersei had one child. The second one she felt was more for the duty of always having a spare for the heir. However, in the third pregnancy, she knew it was a decision between Oberyn and Cersei. She had been shocked to see the two seemed to get along for the most part. Yet, a part of her wondered if this was also a way for her brother not to let her husband get one over on him. 

She knew she and Cersei would never be more than cordial, but for her brother, who had no desire to be married, she was glad to see him in a stable marriage. It is stable enough for people with such stubborn personalities. 

Elias was born during her first visit to Dorne. She hadn’t been able to visit her homeland since the Rebellion. Finally, after five years, she was trusted to sink her feet into the white sand covering her home's coastline since Rhaegar had become King. 

Although her youngest nephew was so small, he had tiny, powerful lungs, and his birth made her long for another one of her own. 

But most of all, she remembered his wide doe eyes looking up at her, and she swore he smiled at her. 

The only place that ever seemed to provide some sort of peace in King’s Landing was the godswood. Somehow, it remained untouched by the plots and webs of deceit that curled around the throne. 

It was where her nephew had found her. He wasn’t in his armor yet. He was clad in Dorne's traditional wardrobe. Tomorrow, his duties would truly begin. Gone were oranges, yellows, reds. Soon, it would all be white with the hope his cloak would never stain red. 

“Aunt!” 

“Nephew,” she greeted. “Or should I say Ser Elias, now?”

His golden eyes were lit with jubilation. She would assume he had been in his cups, but she knew her nephew didn’t like to indulge in drinks. However, as his father, they carried a carefree demeanor. Despite their charismatic characteristics, one would never estimate a viper of Dorne.

“I’ll always be your nephew, Aunt.” His smile was wide and genuine. When he smiled, she could see Aegon in there. Aegon had most if not all of his father’s features, yet sometimes an expression, his smile, and his demeanor were that of the Martell blood. She had Rhaenys in her image, and her husband had Aegon.

“Are you sure you want this?” She knew Cersei and Jaime were proud of Elias wanting to join the Kingsguard. Oberyn was proud of his son’s accomplishment, but she knew he held the same feelings towards King’s Landing that she had. 

“You know there isn’t much out there for being a 3rd son.” Her nephew replied as he walked closer to the oak that was a crude imitation of a heart tree. 

“Still, these vows are for life; why would you want to be chained to a King…”

“Saying Aegon won’t make a fine King?”

She glared at her nephew, but it softened as she saw his teasing smile. She believed half of why he joined the Kingsguard was to remind her husband of how Dorne viewed him. 

“Aegon’s reign will only be peaceful because of you,” Elias added softly. “The only thing he seems to have inherited from his father is that damned silver hair and purple eyes.”

Elia chose to ignore the distaste Elias had expressed for her husband. “You could have a seat at his council versus this.” Elias could excel as Master of Coin. He would still be allowed more freedom to move around the realm. 

Her nephew gave her a sad smile. “Maybe, but I could be dismissed at any time on a council. I want you to be happy for me, Aunt, for I want this.”

Elia wanted to be happy. She did. Most would be proud and boast of an accomplishment like this. “Why do you want this?”

The wind displaced the leaves around them. Elias sighed and knocked his knuckles against the tree. 

Her nephew's voice was cold. He sounded like her brother when he could contain the poison of anger and rage within him. “He left her with three Kingsguard, and you only had my uncle.”

Elia sighed. It always went back to that. 

The birth of her nephew made Elia yearn a new babe of her own. As much as she cared for Daenerys as her own, and even for her own bruised pride and worth, the little Jon, they served as constant reminders that she couldn’t do her one duty in giving her husband more heirs. 

It was why her husband's eyes had wandered to the Winter Rose and the realm paid for it in blood. 

She wondered if what the Maester said was true. 

Now, she had time to regain her strength, and her body had time to recover from birth. Yet, any desire waned at the thought of sharing a bed with her husband. 

Besides, she didn’t want to give Rhaegar any hope that she held any fondness for him outside of him being the man who had the privilege to get her with two marvelous children. 

When she arrived at King’s Landing, she hoped some bitterness had subsided. Holding on to so much anger and resentment was exhausting most days. It was a bitter drink she couldn’t keep drinking. Yet, when Rhaegar greeted her with his trusted shield, Arthur Dayne, at his side, she had looked for little Jon. 

But she remembered how downtrodden Jon had been when she had been preparing to leave with Rhaenys and Aegon. She knew Doran and Oberyn had no ill-will with the small child, only the father. Yet, she didn’t want to flare some of her Dornishmen’s short tempers. 

Rhaegar was attentive to Rhaenys. He was already grooming their son for the throne. Jon only got scraps of his affections. She could never tell if it was because of regret, the love or lack of love he held for the boy’s mother, or the fact he wasn’t the prophesied Visenya. Jon was the reminder of his hubris. 

It reminded her that her husband could be cruel, like his father. 

“My dear nephew,” she cupped her nephew’s cheek. As a young girl, she fantasized about a robust and valiant knight becoming her protector. It took her a while, but the vows of knights didn’t change anything regarding a man, and they were men like the rest of them. The vows were only a shield of their cruelty. 

How could she tell her nephew that as soon as she married Rhaegar, she had lost any sort of protection that Dorne could and had provided?

When Rhaegar’s seed had quickened, she perpetually flirted with the Stranger.  Having a knight in fancy armor and a quick hand with steel didn’t change the fact. 

It wasn’t a shield she needed from fists and words. 

No man could shield her from the wounds of her heart. 

[gnrbitch]

Grunge Days Epilogue - Moonlight Mile

-----

2003, Slashs POV

1999, the year Y/n left me left me, the promise i had made her back in ‘92 was broken. And as much as she tried, I know that everything i was doing crushed her. It wasn’t much of a surprise when she told me it was over. And as much as it hurt, I had no choice but to let her go.

After Layne passed, Y/n had became the worst version of herself. No one could find her, and if they could, you couldn’t get anything across to her.

I’ll always remember the last time I spoke to her.

~

“Y/n baby- just open the door” Slash said, his head pressed against her door. “Please” Y/n sniffled “I can’t”

“Yes you can” Slash said, his own voice breaking at the sound of Y/ns weak voice “It’s okay- It’s just me”.

“Just leave Slash” Y/n said, her voice becoming harsher, she started yelling, “Get out of here” over and over again.

Slash flinched and shut his eyes when he started to hear things breaking through the door. He sighed, a tear threatening to leave his eye “Just- just calm down okay? I’ll leave”.

Sniffling, he said his goodbyes “I’ll leave Y/n okay? I love you- just call me when you can sweetheart. I love you.”

After some silence, he spoke his last words “Bye Y/n”

~

Duffs wife, Susan, was rubbing his back as I held him. In fear that he would fall onto his knees. Looking up to the sky, I didn’t know if it was me or him who was about to collapse. The pain was enough to take us both out.

My heart hurt as I stared at the box in front of me, the priest reading a bunch of prayers that I didn’t pay attention to. My heart knew that no matter what Y/n had done in her lifetime, she would be an angel.

All I heard was crying, I told my condolences to everyone. Jerry and Sean were a mess, everyone there was. Even I was, I was never much of a crier, but even through my sunglasses you could see all of the tears leaving my eyes.

The whole time i was here i felt judged, as though besides everyone’s grief, they looked at me as the man who never could love Y/n enough.

They were right, partially, I know I fucked up, but the love I felt for her was always real. The love i felt for Y/n was enough to almost make me stop breathing.

And to see this, all of the air in my lungs had slowly been leaving me.

I’ll never forget her smile, or her voice. The time we were together, happy in our own little world, and how all the times she would tell me how much she loved me was enough to make my knees buckle.

My eyes scanned everyone around me, until they landed on the dirt that was covering Y/n.

*

2005

Slash took a trip down to Seattle to go and visit Y/ns grave. He couldn’t live one more month without saying what he needed to

“I’m sorry Y/n” His voice cracked at the sight of her headstone, he had never saw it. The last time he was here was during her funeral.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t love you like I should’ve, I really wanted to” He cried, wiping his tears away, “I really did love you Y/n, I still do. I’ll never stop loving you. I’m so sorry” He said, his lips pressing together as his hand softly touched her headstone. “I really failed you, I’m sorry i wasn’t man enough to show you how much I loved you- I wish- I wish you were still here Y/n. Life hasn’t been the same since you’ve been gone” He sniffled, looking up to the sky.

Slash wasn’t the type of man to regret anything he’s done during his lifetime. But Y/n, Y/n was something that he regretted so much it made him relapse for the past two years. He never let himself feel what he was supposed to, now having kids he needed to find a way to be able to still function as a human being.

“I can’t stop saying i’m sorry- i don’t think i ever will” He sighed “I think of you everyday Y/n, you’ll always be the girl who has my heart- ever since back in ‘86- you’ll always be my girl.”

“I love you Y/n, and I will forever”

——

Im sorry

thank you guys so much for sticking with me, it means so much!!! sorry it took forfuckenever. I hope you guys enjoyed this series!!!!

All my love, gnrbitch💝

tagged: @killazilla777 @kirksfunkopop @queenboona-blog @eris-elysium @hoodiesandicedcoffee @eddiiiieeee

[jankwritten]

JASICO WEEK DAY 3: Angst/Comfort

CW: major character death, grief

Nico runs his brush over the lettering on the face of the headstone, delicate despite the dirt worked into the cracks. He should be harder with it, he knows -  it’s not like he’ll be able to break it. The headstone is too new for that, not worn down with age like the others in the cemetery. The dirt around the grave is so fresh, weeds haven’t even begun to grow over it, not that Nico would let them. He’s gotten good at weeding. Pruning flowers. Anything, to take care of this spot. 

Jason Grace, the headstone reads. Beneath that, his rank, and years of service. The date he died. 

Nico brushes his thumb over the curves which mark Jason as seventeen on his day of death. One of the eldest in the graveyard. 

Back when he first heard, when Nico first felt the impact of Jason’s death like a saw blade through his gut, Nico couldn’t come visit the grave at all. Every reminder of Jason being gone was too much, the weight of loss sitting in him in a way Nico hadn’t felt since he was ten years old. He didn’t know what to do with himself, with his grief, except to cry, and cry, and cry. 

He’s glad to be past that stage. His heart still aches, every day is still hard, but Nico can breathe through it, now. He can clean the gravestone, and talk to Jason even if Jason doesn’t talk back. He can make sure this site is as respected as the man it honors. 

Nico adjusts the flowers Hazel brought last night, a bouquet of blue and purple and white. Jason would think they’re pretty. The smell would make him sneeze. 

His favorite color was yellow, though. Nobody ever brings Jason yellow flowers. Always blue, like his eyes, like the sky, like his father. 

Daffodils. Nico will have to bring him some daffodils tomorrow. And irises, and carnations. Maybe Persephone will help him put together a bouquet. She always had a soft spot for Jason, not that she’d ever admit to liking one of Nico’s friends. Whenever Nico would talk about Jason with her, she would listen with this look on her face, like Nico was saying the most interesting things. It felt good to know someone appreciated Jason in the same way Nico did. 

Maybe not the same way. But as close as someone else could get. 

“It’s been a good day today,” Nico says. He runs the brush over the crown of the stone again, gentle as before. “Things have been slow. Father hasn’t given me as many jobs this week, and there’s finally been a lull in attacks near the borders. Hazel and Frank are introducing a new bill to the senate tomorrow, which…well, I’ll tell you how it goes, then. I don’t want to jinx it for them.” 

A breeze blows through the valley. Nico leans back, tilts his chin up into it. 

He closes his eyes. He can almost imagine the wind in his hair is Jason’s hand, ruffling in a way nobody else has ever been brave enough. Easily affectionate, despite all the ways Nico threatened him, kept him at a distance. Jason was just like that, always eager to be there, to hold, to comfort. 

Gods, Nico wishes he could’ve accepted one more hug. Had one more conversation. 

It’s starting to rain. The temperature drops and the sky darkens and Nico can smell it, the dampness in the air. The first drops splatter across his cheeks and his nose, his lips. He doesn’t flinch. He’s used to sitting out in storms, now. 

“I love you,” he tells the sky. 

In return, the rain pelts harder, quickly turning from a drizzle to an outright downpour, soaking Nico’s hair to the root in seconds. His clothes stick to his skin. 

He still doesn’t move. 

“Don’t cry with me.” It’s silly, to act like the rain is Jason’s doing. Still. It helps Nico cope. Sometimes, if he imagines hard enough, he can still see memories of Jason’s grin, that scar on his lip, the tilt of his nose while the skies opened up around them, a display of power, a force of nature.

Nico never saw Jason cry. He supposes Jason never saw him cry, either. Just another thing they’ll never get to share. Another thing they missed. “You’re going to drown your flowers, at this rate.” 

The deluge does not die down. 

It’s enough to almost make him laugh, the sudden mental image of Jason scowling down at the flowers he doesn’t really like at all, the ones that make him sneeze and itch. Jason Grace, mighty son of Jupiter, champion of Hera, using all of his power to destroy a few flowers that have wronged him. 

Nico didn’t get to know that side of Jason very long, the side of him that was a young boy, the side of him who was a person. But gods, of everything they did get together, that is what he’s happiest to have had. The truth. Not the son of Jupiter, not the champion, not the praetor. Just the boy. 

Nico smiles, even as he cries, leaning back in a graveyard during a near-biblical rain storm. Nico smiles. 

Every day, it gets a little easier to. Every day, he hopes Jason is smiling back, from wherever he is. 

[melishade]

Number 28?

This ask game

When Optimus had decided that the Survey Corps were his new family. (Because I have him call them his new family in chapter 13. I just thought that I would add a pivotal moment. Say...in chapter 8 after Eren starts crying his heart out and Optimus comforts him.

"Optimus...why is the world so cruel?" Eren asked.

Optimus wished that he could give Eren a proper answer. One that would give him comfort and reassurance, but he just didn't have it. He's experienced a slew of cruel moments in his lifetime, and he's never had the proper answer as to why that happened in the first place. And the only thing he could do was answer Eren honestly. "I do not know."

Optimus continued to hear Eren crying, muttering to himself about why everything happened the way that it did, and it broke his spark. The Prime had activated his holoform and placed a gentle hand on Eren's back. He rubbed it up and down to try and soothe him, but it didn't seem to be helping. Optimus found himself doing something he never thought he would never do in a long time. He pulled Eren into a gentle hug and placed his other hand on Eren's back. He felt Eren cling to the fabric of the holoform, and he let him. He let this child cry his heart out and grieve over his lost comrades.

...By the Allspark, today was filled with nothing but grief and tears and he hated it. Even with his help, even with his ability to reduce casualties, even when he was able to help capture Annie Leonhart, it still wasn't enough. Levi's squad was now dead, and he had to help prepare the bodies with Hanji, who was devastated at the loss. Levi had grieved silently. He had cried earlier in his alt mode before shutting himself off completely when the two had returned to base.

Part of him thought...maybe he could have been past this. He genuinely hoped he would. The war had taken a toll and the losses were so great. Part of him thought that things would be easier, but this strange world was getting more and more complicated by the second. And the people he now fought beside needed him now more than ever.

Optimus noticed the way that Eren's breathing slowed and looked down to see the boy had cried himself to sleep. Optimus let the boy go before carrying him on his back and out of his alt mode. He was met with nothing with crying faces today. Nothing but tears, and he hated it. He knew it was wishful thinking, but he never wanted to see those faces like that again, so full of anguish and heartbreak.

Optimus opened the door to Eren's room in the basement before walking inside. He shut the door behind him before setting Eren down on his bed. He stared at Eren's tear stained face and sighed. He knew there was no way for him to return home now. The Walls were his home now. His ties were to the Survey Corps. They were his comrades. They were his family, and he would do everything in his power to protect them all, even if it meant sacrificing his own life to ensure they get a life of freedom.

Optimus sat down on the floor next to the foot of the bed and crossed his legs. He waited and waited, guarding Eren until he needed to deactivate the holoform.

(A simple one. Everything else is free game.)

[swlyf-24]

You Don't Care What You Left For Me

✩Summary -> The few days following the accident.

Your story, ours combined

'II' 'III'

(Title by Blue, Jome)

"Are you sure you'll be able to... get through it alone? I can always cancel the trip, I'm just a call away." Carlos had a hand on Lando's biceps, hoping it would give him even a bit of comfort. He hated Oscar, hated his guts. But it didn't mean Carlos would celebrate his death, no. He would still mourn the presence of the lanky boy dressed in orange. Carlos had been through grief, he knew how difficult it was. Despite his want to stay by Lando's side through it all, going to Oscar's funeral and pack his things, Ferrari always managed to ruin it all.

Lando shrugged his shoulders, effectively getting rid of Carlos' hand. "Just go." was all he managed to mutter out before he felt his nose burn, a telltale sign of crying. With a sigh, Carlos left the hotel room leaving Lando standing with a ghost. His knees gave out and he crumpled onto the carpeted floor, shaking his head as tears came falling. Lando hyperventilated, his lungs working overtime. Like a thousand of needles threatening to escape his skin, his chest began to hurt. He never felt so alone before.

He thinks,

he thinks that by this time, there would be another body on the bed. The loud noises from Oscar's phone would come blaring out which Lando would protest at. Soon enough, he managed to tune it out, ignoring it into silence. Perhaps that was what he missed. He missed the annoyingly yet sickeningly Oscar sound of home. Oh, how he wished he could turn back time and watch the shows with him, or even savour the sound just for a while longer just to know that Oscar is an unmoving presence.

But all things move with a push. Maybe the push for Oscar was that the pressure had gotten to him and he wanted to run away from it by-

Lando scurried to the toilet. He gripped the edges of the seat, knuckles turning white, as he dry heaved. He sobbed even more. How could Lando ever live his life if everything reminded him of Oscar? How Oscar would run his hands over Lando's back as he vomited from food poisoning. Funny enough, he swore he could feel the ghost of a warm hand touch his back, drawing nonsensical shapes.

<-⛥->

Lando laid on the bed. The soft mattress cushioning his weight as the blanket served as an oven. His heart thumped; like a lion banging on its cage, howling for it to be let out to find its purpose. But Lando's purpose was gone, dead. His heart might as well be caged in forever, longing for something that has always been out of reach.

The bed now too empty for one but once too small for two. The bed seemed to double in size, the empty space almost ridiculous. Lando feels like a speck of sand amongst a desert. He was nothing special, not anymore. He feels like a child at the mercy of time. He feels like a child begging for his mother to lay down beside him in his bed, to lull him to sleep. He feels like a child unwilling to grow up just to have the presence of a familiar body of home next to him again.

How could Lando even sleep? His nose burned once more as tears began rolling down at a faster speed, realising the loneliness he will forever face now. He doesn't dare to sleep on Oscar's side of bed, wanting to preserve the place where he slept. Not wanting to ruin the last night they spent together. Lando glanced to the bedside table, looking at the phone that was once belonged to. He picked it up, tears collecting in puddles on the screen protector. Lando punched in the number combination, unlocking Oscar's phone. He looked at every app, every message, every nook and cranny of the phone. Until the notes app.

' 18 November 2029 00:12

I'm going to propose to Lan soon. The ring is in the pocket of my jacket, shoved into the back of the closet in every room we share. I'm going to do it. I'm going to do it after the race at Montreal. I just hope he would accept it. I even wrote a letter beforehand in the same pocket, hopefully he isn't sneaking around on my phone.'

And oh. Oscar had been planning to propose to him after yesterday's race. Yesterday's race. Lando rushed towards the closet tucked into the corner of the bedroom, careful to not mess up the right side of the bed. He ripped the door open as he reached in until he felt the familiar fabric of the jacket. Lando dug his hands into the pockets and sure enough, there was a box and a letter. Tears hurled down once more. But this time, Lando was sure it wouldn't end anytime soon.

'Lando, I have loved you even before we became team mates. I've been listening to every stories you say, every joke you tell, every laugh you huff out. You won't believe how endearing it all is. I have loved you with all my heart, and I do not plan on stopping. I would drive every circuit every day if it means you would be by my side forever. Every morning I would wake up to that face of yours, every weekend I would see your determination to win. You do not know how much I love you. Tens, thousands, millions of hearts won't even be enough to cover the amount of love I have for you.

Hearing you say that you loved me too since we became team mates would be one of my favourite memories. It just makes me realize that if I was braver, I would see that true personality of yours earlier. If I could turn back time, I would shoot my shot, I would risk it all just so that I would have a chance with you. No ocean keeps me from you.

We might not be team mates any longer, so I have prepared a copy of my helmet. You know, for the helmet exchange. I have kept it in my luggage all the while. Wait for me at 29? I would want to spend my life with you. I love you Lando. I'll never forget you even in the afterlife.'

Lando turned his head, making sure his tears did not ruin the paper in which was one of the lasts times Oscar said his love for him. It was unreal. He wanted to propose to him after the race, after winning. Oscar wanted to fight Lando for the championship that day. Even then whoever comes victorious, he would still propose. His stomach hurt, his eyes hurt, his nose aches, his heart longs. Lando slipped the ring onto his finger as he carefully folded up the paper once more. With no strength in his legs, he pitifully made his way towards the luggage which holds belongings for the dead.

There it was. Oscar's helmet. Lando gripped it as his finger traced out all the shapes and drawings. He never looked at the helmet for more than he needed to. If he did, maybe he would have noticed the O+L sooner. Somehow, Lando managed to cry even harder, barely breathing this time. His eyes shut as his eyelashes clumped together with tears. His face flushed, sweat coating his forehead, tears never ending, lungs aching, fingers cramping up with the force he held onto the helmet. Lando clutched the helmet to his chest, caging it. Maybe the helmet was just a replacement for a warm body with brown locks.

Lando's heart was caged up like a circus animal longing for freedom, longing to find a new purpose. But Lando couldn't find a new purpose. His heart claws at its confines, scratching, howling, biting.

He couldn't do it.

Not alone.

Damned be Ferrari meetings.

<-⛥->

"He wanted to propose, you know? After one of us wins the championship. I guess it's ironic. It was like he knew he was going to...so he even prepared a copy of his helmet for the end of his papaya contract." Lando muttered out as the line turned silent. Shallow breathing filled the lines as sniffles from Lando could be heard.

'Yeah? You know, ever since you two became team mates, I knew you were inseparable.' Carlos replied. The time of the call seemed to span on for forever. He was in the middle of the meeting when his phone exuded a sharp ringing sound. His phone was on DND, but his notifications were kept on for Lando. He did say he was a call away.

" I didn't want to leave him. I wanted to spend my life with him too, but where had that been? Can I even consider that I still have a life if I'm living without him?"

'He's looking after you right now, you know? In that apartment, it was oddly cold, as if there was a ghostly presence. Do you not feel the ghost of his touches? The ghost of his silent yet loud voice?' Carlos kicked a rock along the pavement as he made his way towards the hotel. His hands freezing as he puffed out the air from his cheeks.

"Oh."

No wonder. It was all the ghostly touches from Oscar. The traces on Lando's arms, the nonsensical shapes on his back, a cold presence behind him as he hugged the helmet. It was all Oscar.

"I miss you Osc. Why did you have to leave?" Lando cried, discarding his phone to the side as he turned his head towards the ghost of a feeling of a sideways hug. Wind ruffled his hair as Lando cried even more. His eyes bloodshot red and so was his nose. The call didn't end. Lando hated ending calls, therefore asking Carlos to not hang up no matter what.

The door creaked loudly, but Lando was too busy crying over a mere theory of afterlife beings. "Oh, Lando." The call finally ended as Carlos filled the cold feeling with his own warmth in Lando's side.

Carlos lied on the floor, Lando slept on the left side of the bed, a helmet lies on the right.

[k9wa]

𑣲 少女レイ ft. hanemiya kazutora.

⠀ — crying cicadas, and you who won’t return again.

⠀ OR

⠀ — a lonely spirit haunting those cursed train tracks.

⚠︎ angst, mentions/topics of suicide, major character death, gore if you squint, fem!reader, canon divergent (you're both in highschool), wc 1.5k.

it was the littlest things that always seemed to send the memory of you flooding through kazutora’s senses. 

it was catching the scent of your perfume in the wind on his route to school that would stop him dead in his tracks, spinning his head in every direction like he truly expected you to be somewhere near him.

it was the sound of a cicada on a distant tree, screaming so loud in search of companionship that it’s enough to pierce straight through the serene summer air. he wished he could scream, too. he yearned for an outlet to belt and sing his feelings of misery, of agony, of how alone he suddenly felt in the world. your departure had ripped a part of his soul from this earth and carried it away along with your own to somewhere he couldn’t ever reach.

it was passing someone on the street, with a bag holding the same keychain as yours hooked onto one of its straps. such a miniscule thing forced him to remember that his matching one sat forsaken on his nightstand, mimicking the solitude he bathed and wallowed in every night since that horrific morning.

kazutora never thought he would find you to be so utterly suffocating.

yet at night he lay awake, grief thick in his throat, praying to a higher power he had not ever asked for one favour, begging for you back. as if all his prayers were enough to piece you back together and place you back by his side where you belonged. where he needed you to be.

even just a glimpse of you, one final touch, one last kiss placed on the back of your palm, anything. he craved your ghost haunting him in the dead of night so bad that it hurt.

his pleas were never heard by anything outside the four walls of his bedroom.

kazutora remembered the day he found out. he remembered the hour, the second, the last breath he took before everything crumbled to pieces around him.

6 months ago to the day, 06:54.

he remembered blankness, his limbs suddenly weighing much more than they had just moments ago. he remembered hanging up the phone and standing still in his living room as his cell fell to the floor. the screen still had a crack in it. he couldn’t cry, couldn’t scream, couldn’t even blink or breathe.

you, 

the you who had pulled him out of the black hole that was his own mind and healed the most broken parts of him,

the you who had filled his heart and life with so much warmth and vibrance he only read about in cliche stories as a child,

the you who kazutora had fallen so deeply and incredibly in love with that he drifted off to sleep every night at the thought of marrying you some day and growing old together,

you were gone. just like that.

your voice would never be heard again, your hair would never tickle his face in his sleep, your shoes would never be left in his doorway for him to trip over. 

you no longer existed.

and the one who had taken you away was the very person he entrusted his entire mind and being to. 

when you disappeared, kazutora had nowhere to be and no one to belong to.

the news of your suicide thoroughly destroyed him. 

on an otherwise beautiful morning, those same cicadas ringing distantly in his ears, kazutora kept his head down as he sped-walked past a pair of rickety train tracks he was forced to pass by on his morning commute. a routine he had grown accustomed to ever since the sight of them had started causing him unsoothable nausea.

he was almost in the clear, near able to pull his gaze from his shoelaces until there was the damn smell of you filling his sinuses. 

he knew better. he knew you were gone somewhere there was no returning from. he had a piece of you hung around his neck for god's sake, one of his only keepsakes of you being the ash you were reduced to that he never went anywhere without.

yet he looks, and spins around trying desperately to see you behind or beside him. 

kazutora’s breath caught in his throat when he saw your keychain dropped on the sidewalk back where he had just walked. 

it could have been anyones, and he knew that. but a delicate hand sneaking into view to pick it up was what nearly made him break down. 

he knew that hand. it had held and played with his own, it had pinched his side and his cheeks, wiped his tears and sorrows away.

his eyes snapped up, but all he was able to see were a few strands of hair ducking behind a shop corner.

his legs were carrying him in that direction before he had time to think, running so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet. he turned the corner, coming to a comical stop as he rounded it. his bag had fallen off his shoulder, abandoned and probably acting as an obstacle to any foot traffic passing by. kazutora didn’t have the room in his brain to worry about that. 

for around that corner, he was met with the sight of your back. 

the wind was knocked out of him, your name falling so silently from his lips that even he barely heard it. the skirt of your uniform blew softly in the wind, your arms crossed behind your back to help keep it from flipping up from the breeze. 

kazutora’s shoes felt glued to the ground as he pushed and shoved his way through an invisible wall to get closer to you. he was trembling, eyes filling with tears and an overload of emotions filling up in his chest, all beginning to spill out.

you looked over your shoulder, finally giving him sight of your face. you were as beautiful as the day he’d lost you.

you leaned against the yellow and black stripes of the railway guards, smiling softly as if nothing was wrong. as if nothing had ever happened in the first place and it was just a normal day where kazutora was meeting you so you could walk to your morning classes together. 

he broke. the tears started to overwhelm his vision as he continued treading towards you. you were there. there and smiling at him, the glow of your skin and freckles on your face just a few paces forward. kazutora felt himself take a breath for what felt like the first time since you vanished, similar to the way he had when he met you for the first time.

it was short lived when the red lights on either side of the tracks started flashing, a familiar horn roaring and approaching from the distance, and you hopped effortlessly over the barrier. 

kazutora reached for you, paralysing fear swelling inside him. he willed himself to speak, swimming up and out of the tar he could feel himself sinking back into.

“h-hey, don’t—”

he stepped forward.

“don’t. please don’t. please—”

“kazutora.”

your voice was still the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. he couldn’t believe he was actually starting to forget the sound of it. 

the look on his face showcased pure heartache, wet cheeks and squinted eyes, furrowed brows and a quivering lip.

you reached a hand out to him, inviting him to a transparent and quickly fading you. 

the warning sirens were no longer heard, the clanging and clashing of train wheels getting closer and closer by the second completely gone. kazutora pulled his feet out of the cement and walked towards you. 

in the distance there was someone trying to get his attention, to warn him that he was wandering too close to the tracks, but he couldn’t hear a lick of it. 

kazutora ducked under the tracks on shaky legs, an even shakier hand hesitantly reaching out to yours and gently grabbing a hold. 

it was warm. kazutora hanemiya never truly realised how cold he was without you.

you pulled him into your arms, held him with such delicacy you’d think he was the illusion. kazutora fell to his knees in your arms, withheld sobs clawing their way from his chest as he finally screamed. piercing through the summer air, his misery was finally voiced, released. 

kazutora didn’t feel the impact of the train that didn’t have time to stop. he didn’t feel his bones crush, nor his body be ripped and torn apart like he was made of glass. he didn’t hear the horrified shrieks and cries of the bystanders, or the rushed ambulance sirens someone had called in advance at the scenario before them.

kazutora smelled your perfume, felt your skin against his, the tickle of your hair against his nose, and heard the screeches of the summer insects surrounding him finally quieting. 

he kissed the back of your hand. together you would move on to another world, another reality, where you were able to love each other just as you were.

⠀ 𑣲 MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?