#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.

[beomiracles]

⌞ 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐘'𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐘 ⌝

DREAM RECALL “You know what I think of you?” He says, the bed squeaking as he leans forward, dangerously close. “I think you’re scared.” He drawls, eyes boring into your own with such vigor that you almost felt pity for the anger that consumed him. How miserable he must be to live like that. — “I’m not scared.” You calmly state, shifting against the pillows as you instinctively try to create distance between the two of you. Quickly taking note of your hesitant body language, he smirks, “no? Then prove it.”

“Prove that you’re not afraid of the darkness, of my darkness.”

wc -> 17k (oopsie daises)

pairings stepbrother!beomgyu x stepsister!reader warnings stepcest, daddy issues, some mommy issues, character death, emo/punk!beomgyu + he has an eyebrow piercing, major asshole!beomgyu, mentions of alcoholism, lots of arguing, angsty as shit but with a happy ending, talks of grief and letting go, smut (again, stepcest), virgin!reader, loss of virginity, softdom!gyu but he's also a menace, guilt ridden sex, unprotected + pullout, handjob + vaginal fingering, some cum eating, use of "sis" both outside and during the smut (I cannot stress this enough), might be teetering on the edge of dubious consent at some points but nothing crazy. dead dove do not eat

#serene adds ✎ I have no clue of how this happened lol. PLEASE read every single warning I am begging you. don't read this if as much as one single tag made you waver. ⎯ aside from like the fact that it's stepcest, I fucking love this whole fic. I'm so proud of it and I would actually cry if someone (who got through it) would be up to share some thoughts :>

“There’s still time to turn back..” You mutter as you lean against the leather of the passenger seat. Listening to the bustling engine slowly dying out as the car comes to a stop. “Come on princess, don’t be like that.” Your dad sighs as he retrieves the key, turning it between his fingers. “You knew that this move was coming and-“ — “Yeah, I did. But not this soon, not now.” You argue, folding your arms across your chest in defiance. “You could’ve at least waited until I was out of college, until I had gotten my own place.” 

More than anything you wished to be able to change your father’s mind, to turn things back to how they were before he met Ms Choi. But that was of course impossible, and now you were paying the price for not getting a room on campus. “But look on the bright side, it’s a mere fifteen minute drive to school, and Beomgyu has his license, I’m sure he could take you someday.” Your dad tries, a small smile on his face. — You grimaced at the name, your chest churning in disgust at the mere thought of sharing a car with that thing. 

A tap to your window makes you turn your head in its direction. There stood Ms Choi, she sends you a small wave and before you know it, your father had climbed out of the vehicle, leaving you to sulk. Their voices are muffled through the thick glass but you can see them enveloping each other in a tender hug, your dad leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek. With a small grimace your gaze flickers to the small bracelet around your wrist, its fine silver glinting in the sun and your chest contracts slightly. You supposed you should feel happy for him, it had been a long time since you’d last seen your father so at ease, so in love.  

And it wasn’t like you didn’t like his new girlfriend, no you were quite fond of Ms Choi. She was nice, often bringing freshly baked cookies whenever she came over, remembering your favorite foods as she made them when you visited. Most importantly she made your dad feel things he hadn’t felt since the passing of your mother. — You just couldn’t understand how such a sweet woman had managed to raise such a being of a son. 

Beomgyu was far from anything his mother represented. He was loud, obnoxiously so, his foul mouth going off every other second, spewing his hatred for the world and the people in it. Beomgyu listened to deranged music, the kind that made your ears bleed. He blamed his father for all his problems, not to mention taking his pent up anger out on his sweet mom. — The black charcoal around his eyes represented that of the rotting darkness slowly eating away at his soul, and you wondered if Beomgyu had always been angry. Perhaps he came out like that, you were almost certain that he was a menace even as a small baby. 

You had been to Ms Choi’s house a handful of times. It was a small two story flat, neatly decorated in light and inviting shades and smelled of roses. Had it not been for the first room to the right on the second floor, you would’ve probably loved it there. — The small hallway is familiar as you stumble inside, a heavy suitcase clutched tightly in your grasp. “Oh dear, let me help you with that”, Ms Choi fusses as she reaches for your bag but you merely shake your head, “I’m fine miss, don’t worry”, you assure her. 

She turns to your dad who was carrying at least twice your baggage as he walked up the dainty pathway leading to the house. “Beomgyu ought to come down and be of some assistance”, she murmurs as she throws a glance over her shoulder, her eyes traveling up the staircase by the end of the hall. — “I’m sure we’ll be fine!” You quickly chirp, dreading the thought of having to deal with him so soon. But there was no changing Ms Choi’s mind as she immediately calls out for her nuisance of a son. 

You swallow thickly as an eerie silence follows, your dads girlfriend huffs out a short breath as she fiddles with the jewelry around her neck. “Beomgyu! Come down here!” The nervous edge to her voice was palpable and part of you took pity on the sweet lady for being stuck with such a being in her house, no less as her biological child. 

Soon the floorboards above you creak, the old house immediately giving away the presence of someone else on the top floor. You tried tearing your gaze from the stairs, but it seemed impossible as Beomgyu’s figure emerged. His step is heavy as he drags his feet across the floor, his hair had grown longer since last you’d seen him, and that was over four months ago. You often did your best in avoiding him, thus leading the two of you to meeting less than a dozen times during the two years in which your parents had been pursuing one another. Well to hell with that plan now, you thought. 

“Hi darling, why don’t you say hi to-” — “I know who she is.” He cuts her off, sparing you a mere side glance before his gaze shifts to your dad struggling with the suitcases, a look of distaste on his face. “A-Alright”, Ms Choi clears her throat as she motions toward your father, “why don’t you help bring their stuff inside.” She receives only a small huff from her son as Beomgyu pushes past the two of you to venture outside. You don’t miss the flicker of disappointment on his mother’s face. No matter what he did, she would always cherish and protect him. You couldn’t understand why. — She turns to you with an apologetic smile, “your room is down the hall to the right.” 

The stairs felt eternal as you pulled your suitcase up, intent on not needing any extra hands. And when you finally reach flat ground, you heave a sigh. Though the comforting peace was short-lived as the thumping beat of a heavy bass filled your eardrums, the sound overpowering that of the wheels on your suitcase as you rolled it along the wooden floor. With a frown you near the first door, it was slightly ajar, allowing for the ear piercing music to float out into the small corridor. Already familiar with the layout of the house, you recognized the room as Beomgyu’s, and as the owner in question was currently downstairs, you dared a small peek. 

You can’t remember actually being inside his room, merely passing it in search for the bathroom as the first floor lacked one. And it was unlike anything the rest of the house represented. It was messy and crammed. The once cream white walls were covered in a variety of posters portraying his favorite bands, one of which you guessed to currently be playing through the large speakers by his desk. — His bed looked as if it hadn’t been made in weeks, possibly months and he seemed to be making good use of his floor as an alternate wardrobe. His computer was on as well, the bright light of the screen catching your attention in the otherwise dim room as the curtains drawn prevented much sunlight from reaching through. 

Upon closer inspection your eyes widen as you realize what kind of video was playing. The almost naked woman in the footage emits a pornographic moan and your jaw slacks as you take a couple of steps back in complete disbelief. — The room was like a tainted mark left on an otherwise clean canvas. The black lungs of a smoker, rotten and decaying. The only flaw in an otherwise picture perfect home, and you would’ve probably pitied the poor soul living here had it not been Choi Beomgyu. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” 

The raspy voice sends a shiver down your spine as you twist on the spot, coming face to face with the inhabitant of the room you’d invaded. Beomgyu lingers in the doorway, your discarded suitcase lazily kicked to the side as his brows furrow, the glinting metal on one of them catching your eye, had he always had that piercing? — You gulp, fists clenching before relaxing again. 

“I uh…I was.. I was looking for my room..” The excuse was petty, and you knew he could tell by the way his lips pulled into a small grimace. “Well this certainly isn’t it.” He spits, taking a charging step forward and you feel yourself immediately faltering back against his desk. — “Out.” He grits, and you could’ve sworn you heard the way his teeth ground together as his jaw flexed.

Not having to be told twice, you quickly slip out of the room, the door being slammed shut on your ass in a mere second. “What a dick”, you mutter, though you supposed it was somewhat deserved as you went in his room without permission. — Your own bedroom, on the other hand, matched the rest of the house. It was small, barely fitting your bed and a study desk, but the window gazing out over the front yard was remarkable. Your fingers graze along the lace curtains as you think of the multiple ways in which you’d be able to decorate the tiny space. Perhaps living here could become somewhat bearable, you thought. 

⸝⸝

No. You quickly found that it would become most unbearable to thrive under this roof. Dinner was awkward. As awkward as it could possibly get. The air was dense, laying on top of your table like a thick blanket, enveloping your party of four in a stale silence. The sounds of silverware scraping against porcelain plates fill the dainty dining room. Every bite felt like a piece of rock sliding down your throat and no matter how hard you trained your gaze to the cut piece of meat in front of you, Beomgyu’s eyes felt like daggers on your skin. Was he still mad about earlier? 

“So, Beomgyu, I hear you’re about to start your senior year as well.” Your father clears his throat, turning to the younger male with a small smile. Beomgyu’s gaze finally shifts away from your near sweating figure and over to your dad as he sends him an almost unnoticeable nod. The statement made your eyebrows raise in surprise, he was a year older than you, shouldn’t he have graduated before summer? — Beomgyu answers your unspoken question in a bored sigh, “failed my last year.” 

“Oh but he’s worked hard to be able to retake his classes this upcoming semester!” His mother suddenly butts in as she places a hand on top of your father’s. You watch their small exchange before your eyes flit over to Beomgyu who looked almost disgusted at the close proximity your parents held. Of course he would be against it, you wondered if there was anything that didn’t make his nose scrunch up in disdain. 

“Then perhaps the two of you can study together?” Ms Choi suddenly exclaims as she looks to you with an expression best described as hopeful. “Your father tells me you do well in school.” — “Of course, my princess is in the top of her class”, your dad boasts as he flashes you a small grin. You sheepishly nod, cheeks reddening at the sudden attention directed your way. “Why, isn’t that an amazing idea, Beom?” His mother cheers to which her son grimaces, “wonderful.” 

You didn’t like Beomgyu. And you thought you had every reason not to. You had never met someone so completely disregarding of other people’s feelings. Someone so selfish and arrogant, someone who took so much for granted. Like his mom. — You supposed you envied him a little. Ms Choi was such a wonderful person, not to mention an amazing mother. You often found yourself reminiscing of what you’d lost when in her presence. But Beomgyu seemed to hold little affection for something you longed so desperately to have. — You remember the evening clearly, the first night you met, two years ago. 

Dinner was awkward even back then. 

You’re sat gathered around the very same table, in the very same seats. Back then you had a small crush on him, on Beomgyu. How could you not? He was everything you weren’t, everything you thought you wanted to be. The expressive t-shirt he wore, a band you didn’t recognize, but you guessed it to be some type of rock. His slightly baggy jeans, decorated with a few simple chains. Dark hair, though it was shorter back then, and of course, the liner around his eyes. It was impossible not to be drawn to him. But he didn’t look at you, not once. 

You helped your dad clear the table whilst Beomgyu accompanied his mom in the kitchen as she prepared dessert. “What do you think of her?” Your father asks with a hopeful smile. You knew that he was nervous about introducing someone new to you, and Ms Choi would be the first woman he’d seen since your mother’s passing. You weren’t oblivious to the fact that your approval weighed like a ton of bricks on your dads shoulders, and you didn’t want to let him down. 

“She seems sweet.” 

He sighs, a relieved sigh. “Do you like her?” You ask, unable to hide the small frown on your face. Your father remains silent for a moment, his hands busying themselves with stacking the plates on top of one another. “I do”, he nods, his face immediately lighting up as he sees your small smile. But before you get another word out, the voice of Ms Choi pierces the quaint house. 

Neither of you move, but the conversation between Beomgyu and his mother was no longer private. “Well if that’s how you really feel, then perhaps you’ll find your father’s place a more suitable living space.” Ms Choi exclaims, her voice is thick, as if on the verge of breaking at any given moment. A brief silence follows her words, and you hold your breath.

“That piece of shit lowlife?” Beomgyu suddenly seethes and his mom quickly interrupts him. “Don’t call him that.” She sounds almost pleading. — Her son chuckles and if you had been able to see him, you would guess that he was shaking his head. “You still let him get away with all the shit he’s done?” — “Oh come on, you know it’s not like that, Beom..” 

“He’s an asshole, mom.” Beomgyu finally states, his voice holds no resentment, in fact it barely holds any emotion at all. “And you, you’re both naive and stupid for thinking he’s anything else.” — Then he re-emerges from the kitchen, not sparing either you or your father as much as a second glance as he heads for the front door, it slams shut behind him, leaving the faint sobs of Ms Choi to echo through the small house. 

Your dad rushes to the kitchen, but you remain frozen in place. His small whispers of reassurance carry out into the dining room as he tries to comfort the crying mess that was his girlfriend. Your eyes flit between the small opening to the kitchen and the hallway; feeling more than conflicted as you gnaw on your bottom lip.

After a few moments of hesitation, you finally come to a decision as you tear yourself from your spot by the since long vacant table. Quietly, you retrace Beomgyu’s last steps and you, too, push the heavy door open. — The cold night air hits your bare arms making you wrap them around yourself as you begin walking down the gravel pathway. You really had no idea of where he might’ve gone, or how you were even supposed to find him. But as you push the squeaking fence gate open, you know that you won’t have to look far. 

Perched on the sidewalk, knees tucked to his chest, Beomgyu leans his chin on top of his folded arms. Drawing in a small breath, you muster up the courage to do what you had come out here for. — He doesn’t say anything as you take a seat beside him, mimicking his actions by pulling your knees to your chest as you wrap your arms around them. You weren’t exactly good at comforting people, but you knew what sadness felt like, it was all you had been able to feel for three months after your mother’s death. 

“You here to fuckin’ lecture me too?” He spits, his gaze is fixed on the asphalt road in front of him. Perhaps Beomgyu’s sadness was different from yours. You shake your head, though you’re unsure if he can even see it. And for a moment, everything is silent. There was a nervous feeling bubbling within your chest, you didn’t know if it was because of your small crush on him or because of the argument you just witnessed between him and his mom. The argument sounded stupid in your ears, and it got you wondering.. 

“Why do you hate your father?” Your words ring out in the quiet night air, and somewhere to your left, you feel Beomgyu shift against the concrete sidewalk. You guess he hadn’t expected the question. — “‘Cause he’s a piece of shit.” He huffs, though his voice lacks the spite it held when in discussion with his mom. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you frown. “But he’s still your father, isn’t he?” 

Beomgyu might as well have laughed in your face. He shakes his head, one of his hands ruffling through his dark hair before he lets it fall to his side. “That changes nothing”, he states. You were tempted to disagree, it changed everything, didn’t it? To hate someone, to hate someone so close to you, someone so important.. You don’t think you could ever hate your father. 

“Have you tried talking to him?” Perhaps it was a stupid proposal, but in truth, you were at loss for ideas. Beomgyu snorts, his worn out sneakers kicking a few small rocks as he lets them roll out across the street. “You can’t talk to someone like him, and even if I could, I would have nothing to say to him.” — He draws in a sharp breath, holding it for a good moment before he slowly lets it go. “Some people..” he begins, his fingers picking at a few strands of vegetation that had managed to seep through the cracks of the constructed road. “Some people don’t deserve to have kids, some people shouldn’t have them.” 

You’re silent after that, unsure of what to say. He was right, some people were not meant to be parents. You wondered what his dad could have possibly done to warrant such hatred from his only son. It felt wrong to pry, so you didn’t. He would tell you one day, when he was ready, at least you thought so. — “But your mom is–” 

“My mom is stupid.” He spits, his expression suddenly turning sour. You didn't like how Beomgyu spoke about his mother, or how he spoke to her. “She doesn’t understand how fucked up dad is, and she still defends him despite everything he’s done.” — He bites the inside of his cheek, his brows furrowing together as his gaze remains ahead. “She’s truly pathetic.” 

Your chest churned at the statement. And perhaps your relationship with Beomgyu would’ve turned out different, had you not said your next words. But you couldn’t help it, and you didn’t regret it either. “At least you have a mother.” It angered you. It angered you that he treated people so close to him with such hatred. Did he not understand? Not everyone had the privilege of seeing their mom everyday, not everyone got to feel her warm embrace, eat her food, have her kiss your cheek. 

Beomgyu’s hatred was selfish. He was selfish. Because you would have done anything to see your mother one last time. — He turns to you, and for the first time that night, he looks at you. “And that makes you so special?” His gaze narrows down on you, the dark liner around his eyes only makes his expression look twice as gloomy. “You think you’re the only one who’s life is shit just because your mom went and died?” 

His words stung, like salt on a fresh wound, slowly being rubbed in. You fight back the tears that were prickling in the corners of your eyes. You just wanted to help. But you were obviously not very good at comforting people, still, you thought that he might’ve been at least a little understanding. How idiotic of you. Beomgyu rises to his feet, giving the gravel beneath him one final kick as it flies everywhere. 

“Don’t think you know the first thing about me just because you’ve heard me and my mom argue once.” His expression darkens even further in the pale night, and you swallow a small sob. “And don’t for a second think that we have anything in common, or that you have the right to talk to me like that.” He snaps, hands digging into the denim of his jeans, the chains on them rattling as he does. 

“It’s not my fault your mommy died, but let me give you a piece of advice yeah?” He leans down, his face inches from your own and you resist the urge to pull back, instead blinking up at him as a nasty sneer casts over his features. “Get over it.” 

With that, he straightens himself back up, letting out a small scoff as he turns on his heel before venturing down the street. — Beomgyu didn’t come back home that night, Ms Choi told you so, you didn’t know where he went, you didn’t care. From that point on, you hated Choi Beomgyu, you hated everything that was him, everything that reminded you of him. But most of all, you hated anything that made you feel like he had made you feel that night; the night he’d left you on the street to sob in your hands. 

⸝⸝

Your first official night under Ms Choi’s roof felt weird, it didn’t feel at all like home, maybe because it wasn’t, or maybe because you laid in bed with the knowledge that Beomgyu was only a room away. — It was dark, the soft glow of the moon seeping through your lace curtains. You had yet to fully unpack, your small night lamp long forgotten about in one of the boxes downstairs. The room smelled weird too, it didn’t smell like home, like mom. 

Despite it being years since she passed you often found resolve in venturing inside your parents room, the room that smelled the most of her. How you would let the tips of your fingers trail across the smooth bed sheets as you imagined her sleeping form. — The first months after her passing you even found yourself going through her old clothes, trying to keep anything that carried her scent close. But even the house itself held her presence, her laughter echoing off the walls, her soft hum as she prepared dinner, her cheerful voice as she skipped down the stairs. 

This house did not hold a single trace of your mother, she was truly gone. Your dad had moved on, he had fallen in love, he’d stopped being miserable, he no longer cried for his deceased wife in the darkest hours of night. Did that make him a bad person? You wanted to hate him for leaving your mom behind, even though she was technically the one who had left you. You wanted to tell him that he should never love a woman that wasn’t her. But you couldn’t. And you wouldn’t. — Your father was happy now. 

Perhaps Beomgyu had been right that night. Perhaps you should get over it. Perhaps you should’ve gotten over it a long time ago. But you didn’t want to, because getting over it meant letting go, letting go of your mom, and you didn’t want that. She was your mom.

Your fingers instinctively reach for the bracelet around your wrist, fiddling with the silver anxiously. This was your last piece of her, your last line, the string that still connected you to her. — You treasured it dearly yet you couldn’t but feel almost melancholic whenever you turned the jewelry around in your hands, an immense wave of sadness washing over you as the small piece kept reminding you of what you’d lost. 

You shake the tears away, sitting up as you lean against the bed frame. You wouldn’t cry tonight, you wouldn’t allow that. Instead your mind wanders down the hall, down to the room on your left. You wondered what Beomgyu was up to, was he already asleep? Maybe he was feeling restless too.. “What the fuck”, you scoff, shaking your head at the glimpse of sincerity you cast his way. Having already gone through with that mistake once, you would be sure to not make it again. Beomgyu didn’t deserve your sympathy. 

He didn’t deserve anything. 

⸝⸝

The following weeks went by in almost a blur. Your dad and you got settled in quickly, and with the help of Ms Choi, you now had a wildflower blooming by the sill of your window. Not to mention the pink rug you had so carefully picked out as you laid it in the center of your room. — But happiest was probably your father. It was sweet, seeing how giddy he got whenever the new woman in his life was around, you liked watching him fall in love. And without you even realizing it, the small house soon began to feel like home. 

Even you and Beomgyu got along fine, if getting along was what you could call it. You had silently conducted a small routine which was to be strictly followed by the two of you. It helped ensure that you wouldn’t have to run into one another more than absolutely necessary. — First, you always used the bathroom at seven. He was never up by then and you enjoyed having free access to both the shower and toilet as you took your time getting ready for the day. 

Second, your rooms were strictly prohibited areas, under no circumstances were you allowed to step foot inside his personal space, nor was he to do so in yours. That didn’t change the fact that he would continuously blast his ear screeching music so loud that the floorboards thumped in rhythm to the beat. Nor did it change the way you threw your hairbrush against the wall in an attempt to get him to shut up, not that it ever proved successful. 

Third, and perhaps the most important one; you did not know each other outside of home. Senior year in college started about two weeks ago, and within the four confined walls of the school building, you and Beomgyu were nothing but mere strangers. Not that the same couldn’t be said for the way you treated each other back at home. Which leads you on to another unspoken rule, the rule that made your parents believe that you got along just fine. 

You think it was said last rule that made everything come crumbling down one October night. 

“A whole week?” You splutter, your fork slipping from your grasp and hitting the porcelain plate in front of you. Ms Choi makes a small grimace at your blunt shock but quickly masks it with a smile, “yes, me and your father were thinking..” — “Come on princess”, your dad interrupts, leaning forward ever so slightly. “You’re more than old enough to sit the house for a week, besides, we’ve been meaning to get some alone time.” He sends you a look that practically screams, “don’t fuck this up for me, alright?” 

With a small groan you nod, “yeah it’s alright I suppose.” But it wasn’t, in fact it was far from it. This meant that you would have to spend a full seven days, locked up in the same house as Beomgyu, with no one to save you. “Is this what people call dark humor?” You mutter, though not loud enough for anyone to pick up on, at least you thought they couldn’t. Opposite you, Beomgyu’s lip twitches as his tongue prods against the inside of his cheek, his fingers playing with the rings on his hands; clearly not oblivious to your small comment. 

“I’m sure they’ll be fine”, Ms Choi adds in a most lighthearted tone. Your dad slowly nods as his gaze flits between you and Beomgyu, watching as you both turned to shoot him a small smile. 

⸝⸝

“And don’t forget to lock the door, oh and I’ve written down all the emergency numbers on a piece of paper plastered on the fridge, and there’s–” — “Dad, I’m fine.” You take his hands in yours, giving them a light squeeze and your father grins, “right, sorry princess.” He throws a quick glance over his shoulder to where Ms Choi was waiting by the car, having already shared a most quick farwell with her son. 

“Go, I’ll be okay”, you sigh as you urge him toward the door. “Alright, alright, just promise to call if anything happens.” He pleads as he ruffles your already disheveled hair due to the amount of hugs he had insisted on. You give him an affirmative nod as he steps out. “Love you, princess!” Is the last thing he gets out before you close the front door in his face, worried that you might never have him leave if you didn’t. The hallway quickly becomes enveloped in a near deafening silence, the emptiness of the house palpable. But the short-lived peace would soon be disrupted. 

“Fuck, are you fourteen or twenty?” Beomgyu jeers as he leans against the doorframe leading into the living room, arms folded across his torso. He’s dressed in a pair of loose jeans that hung low on his waist, and had it not been for the even baggier t-shirt thrown on his chest, you would’ve probably caught more than a glimpse of his stomach. The piece of jewelry on his eyebrow glints in the faint morning light as he sends you a small frown. 

It was too early for any of his snarky remarks, you thought as you swallowed a deep breath. Just ignore him, don’t bite back, that’s what he wants. But as you watch his conceding smirk practically double in size at your silence, you find yourself unable to hold back. “Well at least I talk to him.” It was a low blow, and you knew it. You didn’t care, for the way his face dropped, if only for a brief moment, made it all worth it. 

Beomgyu was quick to hide his initial surprise as he shifted against the doorframe, his dark eyes narrowing down on you. “It’s hardly like you’ve got anyone else to confide in”, he drawls, and you bite the inside of your cheek at his subtle acknowledgement of the lunches you spent alone in the school cafeteria. Your fists clench, your anger on the verge of slipping past the weakening brims of your control. 

“You think you’re so much better, huh?” Your angered huff is met by a low chuckle but before he gets a reply out, you cut him off. “I’m not the one retaking a whole year of college, I mean, I knew you were stupid, but this exceeds any of my previous assumptions.” The words slipped from your lips without you being able to stop them, and it felt good, really good. Beomgyu’s jaw visibly clenches at the insult thrown his way, the arms over his chest flexing as his body tensed. 

Feeling almost high off of the harsh remarks, you continue. “Let’s not even bring up your mom. You can barely look her in the eyes, you treat her like absolute shit, and at your grown age too.” — It’s his turn to flare up now, his previously stunned expression immediately morphing into a scowl as he charges forward. “Don’t you fucking dare talk about her in front of me.” He seethes, teeth grinding against each other as he reaches you, his fingers wrapping around the collar of your blouse as he shoves you against the wall with a thud. 

For the two years in which you had known Beomgyu, sorry, been acquainted with, you don’t think the two of you had ever as much as even shook hands, much less hugged. But now his face was only inches from yours, burning with so much rage that you thought you might just combust into a pile of ashes on the floor. His chest heaves, and his grip on your shirt is near deadly as he yanks the fabric up, his taller frame looming over your own. 

You scoff, trying to mask the unease that immediately surged within your chest at his close proximity. “See? Can’t even bring your mom up without you throwing a hissy fit", you jeer. — The scowl once on his lips, slowly turns into a sneer, a sly look emerging on his face, like you had just said exactly what he needed to hear, given him the opportunity he’d been searching for. 

His breath is warm on your already hot body as he speaks. “Well it’s not exactly like you’re any better.” You catch his tongue dragging across his bottom lip, as if savouring the moment, his eyes focused solely on the way your once stoic expression fell. “Can’t even mention her without you bursting out into tears.” — You open your mouth to object, your brows furrowing at the accusation but he’s quicker, shamelessly cutting you off to get his point across. “There’s no use in denying it. Don’t you think I’ve heard you? Crying in your room late at night, crying for your dead mommy.”

His gaze snaps to your wrist, hand darting out to grab ahold of it as his thumb slides across the bracelet resting there. “And this? A souvenir of her death? That’s pathetic.” He cocks his head to the side, a wicked grin spreading across his lips. “It’s like a child sleeping with stuffed toys”, he sneers, letting go of you with a small grimace before his grip returns to the collar of your shirt. 

You hated the way your teary eyes almost immediately gave you away, and you fervently tried to blink them away; much to no avail as Beomgyu chuckled. “Did I hit a nerve?” He wonders, voice laced with fabricated pity. It made you sick to your stomach. — “Sorry, princess”, he coos, but nothing about the way he gripped onto your flimsy blouse made for a convincing apology. Your eyes narrow at the familiar nickname and his smirk only widens. “Isn’t that what your daddy would say? Princess?” 

Hearing the name you treasured so dearly coming from his mouth, the word tainted with his hatred and evil, it made you bite the inside of your lip, hard. “What? Don’t like it?” He hums, his fingers on your shirt loosening, if only slightly as he leans even closer. It was easy to make out the details of his face now, the piercing stuck through the skin of his eyebrow, the area slightly red, as if irritated. The dark charcoal around his eyes, you wondered if he slept in it, probably. You will your gaze to stay locked with his, not daring to glance down at his lips. 

“Then what should I call you? Sis? Sister? Little Sister?” He looks almost as if he’s about to burst into laughter and you wanted nothing more than to slap that disgusting smirk from his face. “I’m not your sister.” You state, refusing to ever be perceived in such a way. — Beomgyu let’s his head fall to the side, his brows raising in a flicker of surprise. “But we’re family now, aren’t we?” 

You close your eyes, thinking that maybe if you just pretended that he wasn’t there for an extended period of time, he might actually disappear. But once you reopen them, you find him still watching you, his smirk stretched so wide that he almost appeared uncanny. “You don’t know the first thing about what makes a family.” You let your words linger in the now very thick air, watching with an almost gleeful expression as Beomgyu lets out a small scoff, though leaning back as he lets go of your shirt. 

“Quit trying to act like you’ve got me all figured out.” Is all he says, his voice now eerily calm, a kind of calm that makes your blood run cold. — “Then quit acting like such a terrible person, and maybe people would start seeing you for something else.” You mutter, your words not intended for his ears to catch, but they do. His gaze flickers over your body, pressed against the wall in an attempt to create as much space between the two of you as humanly possible. 

He shakes his head, his lip twitching as he runs a hand through his long hair. “How about you quit trying to act like you know what makes a terrible person.” — His words leave you silenced long enough for him to make his escape as he heads for the staircase. The last thing you see is his dark retreating figure, the sound of him trudging up the steps filling the house. You slump against the wall, letting out a shaky exhale as you let your eyes fall closed, already dreading the week ahead. 

⸝⸝

To your surprise, day one and two went by like usual, with the absence of your father and Ms Choi of course. You and Beomgyu managed to avoid one another just like normal, and whilst you ate dinner downstairs, he always brought his food to his room. Sometimes it was almost as if you were living alone, you had the whole house pretty much to yourself and you often took the opportunity to lounge by the sofa in the living room. 

After your fight two days ago, part of you had thought that things might worsen even further between the two of you. But if anything, you’d seen even less of him than you usually would and you think you could count the interactions you’d shared with him on your fingers. 

Your whole body feels heavy as your head hits the pillow that night. Four more days, you tell yourself. You could do four more days. All you had to do was keep up the role you’d been playing for the past three days. 

And as you lay in bed, you let your thoughts wander, wander to your dad. The two of you engaged in shorter calls every evening. It was a nice distraction from your otherwise plaguing reality. Your father told you about the beach, the ocean and the seashells; he and Ms Choi were staying at a hotel by the seaside for the week, and you felt your heart swell at the excitement in his voice. 

“You’ll have to come with us next time!” He exclaimed, the powerful winds surrounding him made his words come out jagged on the other end of the line. Still, you thought you were able to make out the faint sounds of waves crashing against the shore as he walked along the water. — “I’d be happy to”, you agree, a small grin playing on your lips at the thought of going on vacation with your dad again, it had been so long. 

Soon Ms Choi joins your conversation, you hear them share a quick kiss before her tender voice addresses you. “How’s Beomgyu doing dear?” She wonders and your smile immediately falters at the mention of his name. You bite your lip, unsure of what to say, did she not talk to him, not at all, not once? — In the end, you settle for something for half a lie and half a truth. “He’s doing fine.” 

Your dads girlfriend exhales on the other line as she thanks you. “Are you two getting along well?” Your father asks, a hint of suspicion following his inquiry. Even though Ms Choi was quick to defend her son, your dad still seemed to hold back when it came to him, if only slightly. “We’re doing just fine.” You lied, not wanting to address just how awkward things were and how you most definitely wanted them to return home as soon as possible. You wouldn’t ruin your dads shot at happiness just to soothe your own worries. 

But as night approaches, the faint glow of the moon seeping through your thin curtains, you find yourself unable to sleep. Though this time, it’s not because of your reeling mind, rather a faint noise coming from the room down the hall and to your left. — During your previous nights, the house had been eerily silent, almost deafening as it added to the feeling of you living there alone. And Beomgyu was not one to play music at such an hour, even though he was likely still very much awake. 

With a small frown you sit up, fingers grasping the bed sheets beneath you as you shift on the mattress. It was near impossible to make out any details regarding the noise, only a hushed sequence here and there could be heard and your frown deepens. But your desire for a full night’s sleep quickly overweighs any doubt as you’re reminded of the early morning class you had the following day, and the bed squeaks as you gingerly climb off of it, quietly venturing out into the dark hallway to face whatever awaits you. 

You’re able to locate the source of the sound as soon as you step out into the dark hall, and your throat goes dry as your eyes seize the door leading to Beomgyu’s bedroom. — The floorboards creak under your weight, making you freeze as you listen for a shift in the noise coming from his room, but he doesn’t seem to have noticed. 

Carefully you creep forward, a hand on the wall to guide you as you near your target. The closer you get the clearer the noise gets, and for a moment you wondered if he was hurt as deep grunt-like sounds slipped through the crack of the wooden door. What would you even tell him? Biting the inside of your cheek, you shake your head. Just yell at him, cause a scene, do something.

Your fingers are wrapped around the door handle when you suddenly stop, your heart practically leaping out of your chest as a small moan reaches your ears. Stunned, you remain frozen in place as you listen to the ragged breathing of Beomgyu, coming from inside his bedroom and your foggy brain slowly pieces together what he was up to. A wave of disgust washes over you, perhaps even embarrassment at having caught him doing something like that. 

It takes you about half a minute to snap out of your initial shock, eyes darting back down the hall as you plan to make your escape, because there was no way you were going to let him know that you’d heard him. But just as you turn around to head back to safety, a deep groan makes you halt. “Mhhn fuck”, Beomgyu grunts, his voice muffled by the wall separating you but you clearly catch the ragged moan following the curse. 

You thought you could make out something else in the far background, a faint whisper of someone else. He hadn’t brought someone over had he? No, that’s impossible, you would’ve known. And soon the all too familiar and almost theatrical moan of a woman pierces the air.

Teeth latching on to your bottom lip, you stand torn, your brain desperately yelling for you to leave, to forget that any of this ever happened, to not pry further and spare your last bits of sanity. But another part of you, a far more sinister one, keeps your body locked in place, making you unable to move neither forward nor back; forcing you to listen as your Beomgyu gets off to some cheap porn video in his room.

You felt dirty just by hearing him, but the other part of you felt something dangerously close to excitement, your heart thumping unmistakably faster as your gaze flickers back toward his shut door. 

“H-ah..” He breathes and you swallow a gulp, sweat sliding down your forehead at the strange feelings swirling inside of you. Your hands clench at your sides, shivers rippling through your body as you hold your tongue, terrified of making your presence known. — He should be ashamed, not you, you had merely passed by, right? So why did you feel so bashful standing here, right outside his room, in the middle of the night, like some creep. 

“Mhhn fucking hell”, he croaks and you screw your eyes shut, desperately trying to erase the images playing in front of you like that of an old film. Images of him, his head thrown back, his lips slightly parted, lidded eyes and his hand… his hand wrapped around– “Oh my god”, you breathe, bracing yourself against the wall as your head falls forward. You had to get out of here. 

⸝⸝

Disgusting. That’s what he was. Not only a loathsome person but a pervert too. And as you walk down the familiar street, your school bag flung over your shoulder, you think of ways to confront him about his behavior. He was in the wrong here, not you. Besides, your request for him to keep it down at night was reasonable. 

The wooden fence gate feels rough under the tips of your fingers as you push it open, your eyes falling on the quaint house before you. The gravel makes a crunching noise beneath your shoes as you near the front door, the lump in your throat only growing in size. — It was such a pretty house, and to think that something so dark resided within its walls made you sick. Still, you unlock the old door and make your way inside. 

The familiar scent of roses invades your senses almost immediately and you take pride in the comforting smell, allowing yourself to just stay for a moment. You knew that he was home already, having spotted his car on your way back, and it didn’t exactly take a genius to figure out where he was currently lounging at. — Discarding your bag alongside your shoes, you begin the small journey up the stairs, not planning on prolonging the inevitable conversation. 

The blaring music fills your ears as soon as you reach the top step and you heave a sigh. You could do this, you wouldn’t back down. — The first knock is petty, weak, barely audible over the heavy bass thumping on the other side. You bite your lip, raising your fist once more, this time you give the wood a harsher tap. But still, nothing. You stand there for a moment, listening to the unfamiliar song playing and you wonder why he felt the need to drown himself in music as vile as that. Perhaps it was to quiet the undeniably gruesome thoughts you could only imagine filled his mind. 

“Beomgyu!” You shout his name, knuckles near hurting as they pound the door in front of you. Finally, the loud melody comes to an abrupt halt and you can hear him shuffling about inside his room, the soft padding of footsteps approaching and soon he reveals himself. — He looks the same as he always did, as he always had. Except he looks…different. You think it might have something to do with what you had heard him do the previous night. Because something was different, something was no longer the same. 

“What do you want?” He spits, the words sound almost like an accusation and you watch as his brows furrow, dark gaze narrowing down on you. Suddenly, you feel your composure crumble, the phrases you’d gone over in your head so many times on the way back home suddenly diminishing to nothing as you stand before him. Your lips part, for whatever excuse you could possibly find but Beomgyu beats you to the case. 

“If you’re here to complain about how you miss your daddy then I don’t give a shit.” 

Your mouth closes again, your brows mimicking his frown as you peer up at him. Is that what he thinks of you? Is that how he perceives you? As nothing more but a crybaby who can’t go a day without her father, who sobs herself to sleep in the absence of her mother? — “That’s not why I–” — “Like I said”, he cuts you off, his gaze hardening, “I don’t give a shit.” 

The grimace painting your face is surely unmistakable and your fists clench as you swallow back the insults waiting on your tongue. “Well I do”, you say, masking your otherwise trembling voice with firmness as you maintain the tense eye contact. Beomgyu appears, if not surprised then at least taken aback, his lip twitching as he lets out a short huff. He folds his arms over his chest, covering the print on his black t-shirt, seemingly waiting for you to continue. 

“I’m here to…to ask you..” You find yourself stumbling over your rehearsed lines, mind fumbling for a way to approach the situation without making it awkward for the both of you. Not wanting him to know that you’d heard him but also wanting him to be aware of the fact that you knew exactly what he’d been up to. — “What I want to say is, please keep it down..at…at night, some of us are trying to sleep you know..” 

Carefully you peek up at him, trying your hardest to subtly gauge his reaction. But Beomgyu only hums, his brows raising in play-pretend surprise as he leans against the doorframe. “Keep what down? It’s not exactly like I’m blasting music or anythin’” he muses. You shake your head, “that’s not what I’m asking, I’m asking you to keep it down when…when y-you you know..” 

The smirk slowly etching its way to his lips should’ve told you everything you needed to know. That he was just looking for ways to push you further, to rile you up and get you flustered, but for some reason it didn’t, and you kept going. — “When I what?” He wonders, eyes flickering over your guarded stance as you awkwardly shift in front of him, letting your weight fall on one leg. “Come on, you know what I mean”, you practically whine, not caring about how immature and childish you sounded as you avoided actually uttering the words out loud. 

“When I jack off?” He asks, his tone nonchalant as his hands slide down the pockets of his already low hanging jeans. You meekly nod, gaze dropping to the floor as your cheeks flush with color. “Y-Yeah that…you’re kind of..loud”, you cough, anxiously crossing your arms over your chest as you clear your throat. 

Beomgyu seems to be considering your words for a moment, his attention fixed on something behind you as he quietly hums. But then he leans forward, his face landing almost inches from your own and you can clearly see the smudged liner around his eyes now. “And you’ve got a problem with that?” He tilts his head to the side, studying you expectantly. 

“Come on now, sis”, he drawls and you cringe, hating how the word sounded on his lips. “You can’t possibly tell me that you’re not twice as loud when you touch yourself.” — The statement made your eyes blow wide as your jaw slacked. Feebly you shake your head in an attempt to deny his accusations. “I- No!” You shriek, taking a small step back as your hands wave in objection. “I don’t– I don’t do stuff…stuff like that..” 

Beomgyu’s smirk widens as he watches your apprehensive response, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. “Stuff like that?” He repeats, the sentence sickly sweet on his tongue. “You mean you’ve never played with yourself like that? How dull.” — You swallow, your throat suddenly feeling beyond parched as you shake your head once more. Was that so bad? Did that make you so different? You’d never understood the appeal, never felt those feelings, never even had a boyfriend. It shouldn’t matter should it? 

So why did it make Beomgyu look at you like that? Like you had just become something completely different in his eyes, something prized, something desirable. “Really?” He repeats, as if unbelieving of what he was currently hearing. Your quiet “no” is met by an even more menacing smirk as his tongue prods at the inside of his cheek. 

“Why, your daddy must be real’ proud of you then”, he grins and you feel your stomach twist. — “N-No he doesn’t care about stuff like that.” Because why would he? He was your father, sure you were close but some things were better off kept private. But it seemed no matter what you said could make the hungry look in his gaze go away and you felt your heart rate increase tenfold. 

Beomgyu merely scoffs, clearly not buying your truths. “Well then your daddy doesn’t know how much of life his daughter is truly missing out on.” — You frown, straightening your back if only slightly as you regard him with a hint of determination. “I’m not missing out on anything, to be frank, I’m quite happy the way I am right now.” You give a short pause, stopping only to give him a quick one over. “Not that the same can be said for you.” 

It feels good to watch his once smug expression morph into a much more scowl-like one as he lets out a short huff. When he doesn’t say anything, you feel a proud smirk crawling its way to your lips and you barely manage to conceal it as you turn to walk back to your room. — Only when you’ve reached your door, does he speak again, and you’re surprised to find him still lingering by his own doorway. 

“Do happy people cry everyday too, or is that just you?” 

⸝⸝

You’re unable to get his words out of your mind and you spend the majority of the following night mulling over them. “Do happy people cry everyday?” Do they? Was crying necessarily a bad thing? People cry when they’re happy too, people cry for a variety of reasons. Some merely sniffle,  some sob whilst others practically scream. Could happiness really be measured in tears or was that just something he’d said to get on your nerves, to have the last word? 

You lay tossing and turning in bed, your blanket bunching up around your legs before you eventually kicked it off again. — If only your mom was still around, she would be sure to have an answer, for she always did.. You nod to yourself as you mindlessly fiddle with the bracelet around your wrist.

Perhaps you were over analyzing his words, twisting and turning something completely meaningless for hours on end. But it was the only way you’d be able to feel at ease. You had a habit of trying to understand things on a deeper level, knowledge comforted you. It was why you nearly drowned yourself in your studies, why you spent so much time indulging in literature or film. It was your escape. 

Part of you supposed you should have Beomgyu completely figured out by now, with the way you memorized each snarky comment of his. But you never did, it felt like you knew nothing about him yet everything all at once. Maybe your knowledge of him was biased. You’d been quick to snap his picture, to paint a vision of him so sinister that you found it hard to view him any differently. — In your eyes, Beomgyu was a selfish and bad person, a person who did not feel empathy nor compassion for others. And perhaps that was why your theories about him seemed to lead you down the same path each time. 

But you didn't think that you were a close minded person… Was there really something you had missed, something you had overlooked? Was there more to Beomgyu than he let on to? 

You don’t have to ponder much longer for a quiet knock to your door rips you from the deep thoughts previously consuming your mind. With a small flinch you shot up from your bed, crawling back against the headboard as your eyes trained on the entryway to your room. For a moment you think it might be an intruder, but what kind of thief would knock? — Not only knock but proceed to open the door without waiting for a reply. You only knew one person so unthoughtful. 

Beomgyu’s shadow is dark, shielded from the dim luminance of the moon mere feet away from him as he stands in the doorway. One step forward would reveal his face entirely, and you find yourself both longing and dreading for him to move. — Why was he here? You guys made sure to avoid one another diligently so why was he willingly ruining it? 

“I can help you.” 

His voice is low, but he speaks clearly. A crease runs along your forehead as your brows pull into a frown. “Help me?” You repeat, the confusion evident in your tone as you shift against the pillow behind your back. Beomgyu nods, taking a bold step forward which casts an eerie glow across the side of his face. Your gaze flickers from his intense and dark eyes to his lips, pulled into a small smirk and your stomach drops. 

You knew why he was here. Because what other motive could he possibly have? — You had seen the way he treated those around him, you had witnessed the effect he had on his mom as she fell to her knees in tears, the way his words had sliced through you like daggers of a knife, shamelessly cutting your barely healed skin. Beomgyu made things around him die, every touch of his was poison, lethal. And now he had come to kill you too. 

It wasn’t like his sudden change in demeanor was unexpected, you knew that he was capable of breaking things, breaking people. He had just never paid you much attention because he thought you were already broken. The death of your mother slowly eating you away as you cried for her each night. — But you can tell he’s had a change of heart, the way his eyes rake across your body, barely concealed by the flimsy pajamas you wore, untainted, untouched, pure. Ready for him to kill. 

“I don’t need your help.” You try to evade him off, convince him that you were no object of his affection. But it was impossible. Beomgyu shakes his head, slowly approaching your bed before he takes a seat, causing the cushion beneath him to dip slightly. — “You don’t even know what I’m about to offer you”, he muses, fingers trailing up your exposed leg and you quickly withdraw it, stuffing it beneath the blanket. 

“I know that I do not need it”, you bite back, twisting your body as far away from him as possible. He huffs out a short breath, biting the inside of his cheek, seemingly in deep thought. You peer at him through the corner of your eye, lips curling into a small grimace. — “Do you plan on living in the dark forever then?” He finally wonders, his voice a mere murmur and you frown. “I could show you, show you the light”, he hums, fingers drumming against the mattress leisurely. 

You’re unable to hide the scoff you emit before turning back to face him. “You couldn’t find light if it so much as presented itself in front of you.” Beomgyu’s jaw visibly clenches at your words, his hand stilling against the bed as his gaze flickers up to meet yours, an underlying twinge of curiosity lingering behind his otherwise cold and emotionless eyes. —  “No? And why’s that?” 

Your lip twitches, a small grimace of pure disgust threatening to overtake your entire face as you regard him with disdain. “Because something as dark and twisted as you cannot possibly seek light. You repell it.” 

The last sentence rings out in the silent air, and you watch as the intrigue in his eyes becomes put out like that of a dying fire. His expression contorted into the one you knew so well, the cruel one, the one that hurt people. “What, and you think you’re some kind of saint?” He jeers, trying to mask where your words had evidently stung. — Were you a saint? Hardly. But you didn’t hurt the people around you just because you could, just because life had treated you unfairly. That was the difference between you and Beomgyu. 

“You know what I think of you?” He says, the bed squeaking as he leans forward, dangerously close. “I think you’re scared.” He drawls, eyes boring into your own with so much vigor that you almost felt pity for the anger that consumed him. How miserable he must be to live like that. — “I’m not scared.” You calmly state, shifting against the pillows as you instinctively try to create distance between the two of you. Quickly taking note of your hesitant body language, he smirks, “no? Then prove it.”

“Prove that you’re not afraid of the darkness, of my darkness.” 

You remain silent for a moment, watching as he awaits your answer, your next course of action. Was this a bad idea? Probably. You had told yourself over and over that you wouldn’t let yourself get consumed by him, become tainted by his flawed hands. Yet you find yourself reaching for the blanket covering your body, pulling it from your legs as you discard it on the floor. Beomgyu follows the movement with an amused look, an almost wicked one before his smokey eyes snap back to yours. 

“Fine”, you say, adjusting yourself on the bed as you let your hands fall to your sides, “show me.” The simple statement makes his face twist into a look of pure smugness and Beomgyu wastes no time in scooting closer, fingers wrapping around both of your wrists as he positions himself before you. “You have no idea what you’re asking of me”, he murmurs, his lip twitching into a sinister grin as he does. It was almost as if your obliviousness spurred him on, your naivety making his mind reel. 

His breath is warm on your face as he studies you closely, from the way blood rushes beneath your cheeks to your eyelashes fluttering as you try to focus with him so close. “Have you ever kissed someone before?” He asks, the underlying curiosity in his words palpable. You try to think of any occasion in which you might’ve, but after a good moment you shake your head. “Only once…in middle school, a smell peck on the lips..” You admit, albeit a little sheepishly. 

The smirk on his face only widened, exposing his sharp teeth as Beomgyu chuckled. “That doesn’t count”, he states, seemingly pleased with your answer, with your honesty, your trust. Biting your bottom lip, you swallow before nodding slowly. “I’ll show you how to.” He then mumbles, and suddenly his nose is practically grazing yours. You suck in a sharp breath, eyes widening as you watch his confident ones. 

Then his lips press against your own, and they’re surprisingly soft. At first he remained still, completely unmoving and you wondered what on god's green earth he was doing. But soon he lets his eyes close, one of his hands letting go of your wrist as he cups your cheek. The small caress makes your eyes widen further and you resist the urge to pull back. Unsure of what to do with yourself, you hesitantly respond to the tentative kiss, letting your eyes flutter shut as well. 

You knew that you shouldn’t be doing this, that it was wrong, taboo even. He was your step brother.. at least he was bound to be once your parents got married. Guilt roots itself in the pits of your stomach, making it twist and turn uncomfortably as you try to relax in his grip. — He doesn’t push you any further and it takes you by surprise. Instead he lets his lips linger on top of yours, and when he pulls away moments later, a small pecking sound follows it. You watch through lidded eyes as his narrowed gaze studies you, the hand on your cheek moving to your chin. 

“How was it?” He wonders, as if expecting a review of some sort. Your mouth parts but you can’t seem to find the words. How could you describe the shame and the guilt? How could you ever verbalize the way his soft lips had felt on yours, such a thing was impossible. — “It felt weird..” Your hushed whisper echoes out like church bells in your ears and you remain very aware of the way his fingers reside around your chin, locking your face in place. 

Beomgyu lets out a short breath, his thumb pulling your bottom lip down as his gaze catches onto your exposed teeth. “First time always feels weird”, he states and before you get to prepare yourself, he dives right back in, except this time he goes straight for the kill. — You let out a small yelp as he pries your mouth open, immediately slipping his wet tongue inside to slide against yours. You can still taste the minty toothpaste on him and the sensation of something so wet and…alive, in your mouth, makes you cringe. 

You still allow him to kiss you, to push you back against the pillows as his hands roam your body, his poisonous touch spreading across your skin like wildfire. You knew that this was exactly what he wanted, to ruin something so perfectly pure, to take something from you that you could never get back. And for some reason, you let him. — Only when his hand reaches the waistband of your pajama shorts do you stop him, eyes wide as you push him back. 

“Wait.” 

The kiss breaks with a wet sound and a small string of saliva still connects the two of you. Struggling to find a suitable approach to the matter, you let your gaze drop to his chest, heaving a small sigh as you bite your lip. “I…I don’t know if…I mean I haven’t..” Honestly you didn’t even know what you were getting at yourself, you supposed you wanted to prolong the moment, if just a moment longer. 

Beomgyu regards you with an expression you don’t think you’d ever seen on him before; a mixture of both intrigue and desire. “Are you scared?” He wonders and without thinking, you nod. His lips stretch wide, the hand on your shorts moving to your inner thigh as he gives it a light squeeze and you nearly flinch at the touch. “Good”, he huffs, his fingers venturing beneath the fabric of your pajamas as he gauges your reaction closely. 

When he pulls your shorts down, you gingerly try and conceal yourself, your cheeks flushing in all shades of red as your thighs squeeze shut. “Don’t be embarrassed”, he tsk’s, his hands on your knees as he firmly spreads them. — “I’ve seen plenty of pussies before”, he merely shrugs, “yours won’t be any different.” His reassurance didn’t help ease much of your worries as you let him pry your legs open. 

He starts slow, and you’re thankful; his index and middle finger gently rubbing you through the soft cotton of your panties and you resist the urge to hide your face as you squirm against him. — It wasn’t like you’d never touched yourself, because you had…you think. Like any other young teenager you’d experimented a little with your body, but as an inexperienced 15-year old, the results had proved futile. You never had the urge you suppose, you didn’t even know how it was supposed to feel like. But as Beomgyu touches you through your underwear, a strange feeling mingles alongside the guilt and shame in your stomach. 

His eyes are on you, on only you, watching as you bite your bottom lip, your hands fidgeting with the bed sheets as you try to suppress the small noises bubbling in your throat. Not until his fingers find your clit, rubbing it deliberately through your panties, do you let out a small squeak. “Is…Is it supposed to feel like that?” — Beomgyu’s dark gaze shifts from your spread legs and over to your wide stare. He nods, “does it feel good?” 

“Strange..” You quietly whisper, though you made no move to stop him as his index finger hooks around the waistband of your underwear. “Yeah?” He murmurs, taking his time as he slowly pulls the piece of garment from your body, letting it slide along your legs before he discards it on the floor. “You’ll get used to it”, he muses, eyes shifting to your exposed cunt as they visibly darken, “it comes with experience.” 

You had no clue what to expect, what to feel, how to respond. Your whole body felt tense as his cold fingers brushed against your naked skin, inching their way up and suddenly it felt like you were under a microscope, every single part of you being presented under a stark light. Beomgyu on the other hand, seems far more at ease as he lets two of his fingers swipe across your cute folds, teasingly pushing them apart as he slowly rubs you. 

It takes everything in you not to cringe at the weird and damp feeling pooling between your legs, the consistent throb of your cunt and the small cry you emit as he flicks over your clit once more. He sighs, “virgin pussies are my favorite”, his gaze shifts to his already glistening fingers, “they get wet so easily.” — You merely let out a small whimper at his words, thigh involuntarily twitching, the movement immediately catching his eye as his lips curl into a smirk. 

“W-Wait!” You croak as you suddenly feel him prodding against your fluttering hole, your muscles taut as you shift on the bed. Beomgyu stops, hand resting against your core as he studies you with an indifferent expression. “W-Won’t that hurt?” It felt embarrassing to ask, but the thought of him pushing something inside of you…it scared you. — But Beomgyu only shrugs. “It might”, he drawls, his fingers resuming their work on your cunt as he repositions his index one right above the tight rim of muscle, “depends on how bad you want me.” 

Want him? You didn’t know if you wanted him, it wasn’t like you liked him, right? You hated Beomgyu, you’d hated him for two years. You hated how he treated his mother, how he treated you, with such coldness and such little empathy. You hated how he made you cry, how he made you feel small and weak. You hated how he made you feel bad for grieving your own mother. 

But as your gaze shifts to his face, and as you will yourself to look past the cruelty, the darkness, you can still make out the boy you met that night, the one you’d had a small and what you thought was an insignificant crush on. From the black charcoal around his eyes, to the silver jewelry bored into his eyebrow; his black hair, nearly reaching his shoulders now, and his dark eyes, his eyes that both scared and intrigued you. 

You gasp when he without warning pushes his finger past your folds, immediately curling it inside of you, making your back arch off the bed in sheer surprise. Beomgyu’s attention is solely on your flushed face, watching in contentment as you writher under his touch, as you slowly lose yourself. — “O-Oh..” Is all you manage to squeak out between the ragged breaths. It felt weird and uncomfortable, but it didn't hurt, instead the fluttering sensation in your stomach only seemed to grow. 

“Such a greedy pussy”, Beomgyu hums as he feels you pulsate around his finger, “sucking me in like a complete whore.” You shake your head, “I-I’m not..” The words die in your throat as he adds he slides a second digit past your tight rim, making you shriek as he stretches your cunt. 

His touch felt poisonous but you couldn’t find it in you to push him off, to tell him to stop. No matter how many times you told yourself how wrong it was, you couldn’t help but slowly succumb to the darkness that was Beomgyu. Wanting, no needing, more. It was as if he’d introduced you to a most dangerous drug, and you find yourself desperately seeking another fix, a stronger one. 

Your short nails have torn the bright sheets covering the mattress, and your arms tremble as you lock eyes with him. Satisfactory, that was the only way you could describe the expression painting his face. You don’t think you’d ever seen Beomgyu as anything but angry, but this…this was far from it. He looks ready to devour you whole, his brooding eyes fixating on the way your jaw slacked, your saliva coated lips parted and your eyebrows drawn together in such an endearing manner. 

“Feel good?” He wonders, his brow twitching slightly when his thumb presses against your clit, eliciting a high pitched moan from you as you squirm against him. “I’ll take that as a yes”, he drawls and before you know it, his fingers are gone, making a sloppy sound as they withdraw from your cunt. You whine, hips bucking up in an attempt to seek his touch and your cheeks flare up in color. “W-Why did you stop..?” You pathetically wonder, biting the inside of your cheek, thinking that you had possibly done something wrong. 

Beomgyu doesn’t say anything as he brings his sticky fingers to his face, inhaling your scent before shoving them into his mouth. Your jaw falls open in bewilderment, how could he just do something like that so…casually. — “Come on now princess, we’ve only just gotten started.” 

Even more? 

Your already wide eyes dilate even further, completely forgetting to be angry over the nickname he’d used as his hand dips inside the waistband of his sweats, pulling his hard cock from his briefs. It wasn’t like you were a total prude, you knew what a dick looked like, you just…had never seen one up close. — Beomgyu takes his time as he wraps his fingers around its base, languidly stroking himself as pearly beads of what you could only assume to be precum spilled from the slit on top. 

The thought of having that inside of you makes your throat go dry and you shift uncomfortably on the bed. “Come on now, sis, don’t grow shy on me”, he drawls, stifling a groan as his thumb flicks over his tip. The knot in your stomach returns and you shoot him a glare, “I am not your ‘sis’”, you state through gritted teeth. But Beomgyu only chuckles before leaning forward, his face drawing in close once more. With one hand still on his cock, the other one presses flat against the mattress as he hovers in front of you. 

“Lie down.” 

His sharp command sends a shiver down your spine and you hesitantly comply, awkwardly sliding yourself down between his parted legs until only your head remains perched on the pillow. From this angle, Beomgyu’s long hair falls in front of his face and you resist the urge to reach up and brush it away. Instead your nervous eyes flicker to his cock as he gently taps it against your inner thigh. Your gaze lingers on the way his arousal spills onto your naked skin and suddenly a wave of realization washes over you. 

“Shouldn’t we use a condom?” You whisper, biting the inside of your cheek as your attention flits back to the smug expression on his face. “Why? That takes away half the fun”, he hums, letting his tip part your puffy folds as he nudges it against your throbbing clit. “H-ah b-but isn’t it unsafe?” You whine, unable to keep from grinding against him, desperately seeking his touch. 

Beomgyu lets out an exasperated sigh, reaching a hand up to run through his slightly disheveled hair. “Don’t tell me you’re scared”, he grunts, his fingers clasping around your chin, pulling your face so that it rests inches from his. Your breath is uneven and jagged as you reluctantly meet his gaze, a quiet “no” spilling from your lips. — He grins, tongue dragging across the bottom row of teeth in his mouth, “such a terrible liar.” 

You don’t have time to think, much less act before the head of his cock pushed past the rim of taut muscle as he slid inside your warm cunt, almost immediately groaning at how you wrapped around him so deliciously. — “Fuck, you really are a virgin aren’t you?” He breathes, lips hovering above yours and you weakly nod. The stretch of his thick cock making you go near cross eyed as you grasped at his shoulders. It was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before and you were sure that Beomgyu enjoyed every second of it. 

He had been the first, the first one to get his hands on you, to spew his poison all over your pure and innocent virgin body, and he would make sure to do so thoroughly. His mouth is on your neck, tongue licking at your skin and you cringe away from the action but he doesn’t falter, lips immediately chasing yours as he keeps you in place. The kiss is rougher than the previous, hungry and disoriented as Beomgyu messily jerks his hips against yours. Your nails dig into the apex of his shoulders and his name echoes through in the pristine bedroom as you moan out in pleasure. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum right away if you keep that up”, he grunts, fingers digging into your cheeks as he withdraws from your lips. Your eyes widen as you feebly try and shake your head, dreading for him to finish inside. But he doesn’t, instead he redirects his focus to your neck, resuming what he’d been doing as his tongue darts out to swipe across its juncture. You squeal when his teeth graze your skin, the hands on his shoulders moving to his dark hair. 

The marks he left on your untouched skin were bound to linger for at least a couple of days, he made sure of that. Reveling in the fact that you’d let him in, let him close, allowed him to take something so precious, something that you had been clinging on to for so long. He would have you, all of you, even if only once, he would be sure to leave an impression. 

And you know that you should feel ashamed, feel guilty, dirty even. But something feels different, something about him, about Beomgyu. It’s not the Beomgyu you loathed, the Beomgyu who’d made you cry, the Beomgyu who made you feel worthless. — None of the anger, the hatred, the fire; none of that lingered right now. And had it not been for his sharp teeth on your skin and his rough pace as his cock rammed into your throbbing cunt, the moment might’ve even been tender. 

There’s an unfamiliar feeling building in the pits of your stomach and it had long since overridden the previous shame and guilt. Unsure of what to make of it, you desperately tug on Beomgyu’s hair, eventually making his head raise from your chest with a small frown, the liner around his eyes even more smudged than usual now. — “I’m…I…” your face turns beet red as you stumble over your words, not knowing how to express yourself. 

He licks his already wet lips, his pace momentarily slowing and you whimper at the discomfort soaring through your body. “You close?” He asks, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your sweaty forehead. You open your mouth only to close it again, nodding sheepishly as your hands twist in his hair. Beomgyu groans as he lets his fingers slide down your stomach, reaching where your bodies connected like one, middle finger rubbing your clit menacingly as he watches you arch against him with a broken moan. 

Your first ever orgasm felt out of this world, your cunt clenching around his cock with such vigor that you thought you might cry, a string of incoherent and high pitched whines ripping from your throat as you pull Beomgyu close, and for the first time, you’re the one initiating the kiss as you slam your lips on his. — He groans into your mouth, letting you slide your tongue against his, albeit a little awkwardly as you had no clue of what you were doing. 

Finally, as your climax comes to an end, you find yourself relaxing against the mattress, the fingers in his hair loosening their grip as you allow yourself to kiss him slowly. — “F-Fuck princess”, he grunts, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth before letting go. You respond by eagerly raising your hips to meet his, wincing at how sensitive you felt as his cock twitched inside of you. “Fuck, fuck, wait”, he breaths, tearing himself from you as he swiftly pulls out with a small hiss. 

In your euphoric state, your eyes drift to his hand wrapped around his shaft, quickly jerking himself off as his gaze fixates on your wet cunt. Then he notices you, his lips curling into a wicked grin as he reaches for your wrist, “come here”, he urges as he guides the flat of your hand to wrap around his cock. — Blinking, your attention flits between his expectant face and his heavy dick in your grasp as you contemplate your next move. It wasn’t like you’d ever done something like this before but it looked easy enough when he was doing it. 

With determination you begin to carefully stroke him, biting the inside of your cheek at the squelching sound erupting as his arousal smeared across your fingers. Beomgyu’s hips jerk forward and your movements stutter. — “H-ah, fucking hell d-don’t stop”, he groans, his jaw slacked as his eyes tightly squeezed shut. A quiet “sorry” slips from your lips and your pace returns as you work to get him off. 

“F-Fuck go a bit faster, yeah?” He mutters, his hand joining in on top of yours as he ups the intensity. Merely following his command, you grip him tighter, drawing a strained moan from him as your fingers drag across his tip. — It made you feel oddly powerful, seeing him like this, his otherwise indifferent face completely flushed, and instead of presenting himself with a mean scowl, he looked to be in complete bliss as he let his head fall back. 

A final twitch of his causes hot liquid to spurt from his throbbing cock, the white substance coating both your hand and lower abdomen. He heaves a sigh and you feel him slowly go soft in your hand before you pull it away. Beomgyu runs his fingers through his hair, parting it before letting his arm drop back down, his gaze landing on the mess on your stomach. He tsk’s spreading the sticky fluid across your skin. “What would your daddy think if he saw you like this, hm?” He murmurs, licking his lips before bringing his cum-coated fingers to your face. 

You shake your head, without the waves of pleasure sparking through you, the shame and the guilt suddenly crawled right back. “I- I don’t want to talk about him..” You whine, trying to force the image of your father out of your mind. — “His beautiful princess, completely ruined by something so…what did you say I was? Dark?” 

Without warning he pushes his wet fingers inside your mouth, making you cringe at the salty taste of him. “I bet your daddy would hate you forever”, Beomgyu finally states, watching as you frown, lips closing around the digits in your mouth. — And when he finally withdraws them, you splutter, “my father doesn’t hate me, but yours seem to do.” 

Beomgyu’s jaw twitches, his lips curling up into a small scowl and the desire previously filling the air slowly simmers out. You knew that he wanted you to feel just as miserable as he did. But you wouldn’t let him, you wouldn’t let him get to you like that. — Half expecting an insult thrown your way, you’re surprised when he merely tucks himself back into his sweats, rising from the bed as he regards you with dark eyes. “Fine, keep living with such fantasies and we’ll see just how long it takes for them to get crushed.” 

Without as much as another word, he leaves your room, the door slamming shut behind him as the small house falls under an eerie silence once more. 

⸝⸝

Your parents came home two days later, and though you wanted to say that things had changed between you and Beomgyu after your…night together, it was safe to say that they hadn’t. At least not on his part. You on the other hand, couldn’t get the feeling of his hands off of your body, it was like he’d permanently imprinted himself on your skin. It feels disgusting, and you had spent three hours in the shower the morning after, vigorously trying to scrub the venom from your system. But it never worked, his touch lingered like that of a tattoo, forever sealed onto you. You could never take back what had happened that night. 

For some reason, a small part of you doesn’t want to. 

Beomgyu avoided you, and when he wasn’t avoiding you he was glaring. His dark and piercing eyes followed your every move whenever you were in his field of vision. But there was something else too, a sense of superiority. — He knew that you were constantly dealing with the consequences of that night, he could see the way your mind haunted you with the memories, and he took pride in watching the shame and the guilt practically eat you alive. — He was on top of the world and you were scrambling to even get by. 

So one could easily imagine your surprise when one evening, you found him in a state you never thought you’d ever get to witness. 

It was late, but your small family had yet to eat dinner, and you watched as Ms Choi darted across the kitchen, in full with preparing your meal. You helped her set the table as you laughed at a couple of your dad’s terrible and overused jokes. It had taken a whole of three days for you to be able to look him in the eye after he’d come home, and you still felt terrible whenever you caught him and Ms Choi sharing a kiss; knowing that one tiny slip of your lips could manage to ruin something so perfect. 

You trusted that Beomgyu wouldn’t utter as much as a single breath about what had transpired that night, but you still startled when his mother taps your shoulder, whipping around as you come face to face with her. — “Dear, do you mind fetching Beomgyu, dinner’s almost ready”, she smiled, that warm and comforting smile she so often gave her son, only to receive a mere huff in return. You nod, slowly making your way out of the kitchen as you head for the hallway, dreading having to speak to him, much less in private. 

The steps creak under your weight as you drag yourself up the stairs, drawing out the moment for as long as possible before you inevitably reach his door. With a small sigh, you knock. There’s no music coming from the other side and you frown, what’s up with him? — Another knock, but nothing. You bite the inside of your cheek, a wave of frustration crashing over you at the thought of having to call out for him. 

“Beomgyu?” 

A third knock. You wait for at least a minute but there’s nothing, just silence. Perhaps he’d fallen asleep, still, you should wake him and let him know that dinner was ready, Ms Choi had asked you after all. — Your hand is near trembling as you grasp the handle, twisting it before pushing the door open. Slowly adjusting to the darkness of his room, you peer inside. But to your surprise, he wasn’t there. 

Your footsteps make a thumping sound as you hurry down the stairs. If he wasn’t in his room then…Your gaze flickers toward the dining room and kitchen before settling on the front door. “Did he mention anything about going out?” You call out for Ms Choi and she soon appears in the doorway, a bowl of salad in her hands. “No, is he not in his room?” She wonders, her face quickly falling. 

Noting her worried expression you quickly shake your head as you try and reassure her. “I’m sure he just went for a walk, I’ll go check.” — Your dad’s girlfriend gives a small nod as her gaze, too, flickers toward the door. “Alright..” 

⸝⸝ 

The cool night air hits your face and you mutter a few curses under your breath, scolding yourself for offering to do something like that when the last thing you wanted was to be out in this cold. — As you walk down the graveled path you let out a tired groan, what were you even thinking coming out here? It wasn’t like he was just going to magically appear or something. Fucking asshole, had the nerve to leave without a word and now you had to go looking for him. 

But as you push the small fence gate open and turn out and onto the street, a familiar scene flashes before your eyes. Nostalgia fills your every fiber as your eyes fall on Beomgyu’s figure, perched on the sidewalk as he hugs his knees to his chest, just like he had that night, that night two years ago. — But something was different. That night, the one where you had learned to hate him, it had been a warm night, and Beomgyu had been burning with rage. Today, the air is much colder, and Beomgyu is no longer on fire, instead he’s shivering, his whole body quivering as small sobs escape his soft lips.  

You freeze at the sight, breath catching in your throat as you regard his almost pathetic frame, curling in on itself as his fingers dig into the flesh of his calves. Part of you wants to leave him there, perhaps even make fun of him, it was most tempting to finally get back at him for the way he’d ruined you. — But you weren’t Beomgyu. And you wouldn’t do that. 

Instead you find yourself slowly approaching, and just like that night two years ago, you slide down next to him on the cold pavement. He doesn’t seem to register that you’re there, and you sit in silence for a brief moment before addressing him. — “Beomgyu?” — His head jerks at the quiet whisper of his name, his usually narrowed eyes wide in shock as they flicker over to you. His cheeks are wet, stained with his tears and the liner around his eyes had run down his face in messy streaks. A few strands of hair stick to his forehead and his lip trembles as he sucks in a sharp breath. 

“Leave me the fuck alone.” He croaks, but his voice comes out weak and raspy. His hands wipe at his face, but it only spreads the mess already there even further and he lets out a frustrated groan. — You don’t say anything, because last time you tried to comfort him you only ended up getting hurt. Instead your gaze flits to his discarded phone between the two of you. The screen was broken, likely from him smashing it on the asphalt beneath. You frown as it suddenly comes to life, vibrating against the hard ground. The bright screen illuminates the dim street and your eyes land on the caller-ID. 

“Dad.” 

Beomgyu doesn’t make a move to answer, merely turning his head away as he continues to sob into his arms. “Don’t”, he mutters as he sees you reaching for the device, “he’s drunk.” — You purse your lips but your fingers still clasp around the phone, your thumb swiping to decline the call. Upon being presented with his lockscreen, you can make out at least another fifteen missed ones. Your chest churns at the scene, for whatever reason, you do not know. The bright light vanishes as you power off his phone completely, tossing it to the side as you stretch your legs out in front of you on the pavement. 

It takes him about a minute to lift his head from his arms and his breath is still uneven as he speaks. “What does he want?” — Biting your lip, you gaze ahead, tracing the outlines of each car parked down the street, memorizing their plate numbers. You didn’t know how to answer his question, so you remained silent. Beomgyu shuffles next to you, mimicking your movement of unfolding his legs. “I bet he wants money..” He then adds in a snarky tone, wiping his face once more as he snivels, “money to sponsor his fucking addiction.” 

You throw a quick glance in the direction of his discarded phone. “Why do you still have his number?” It was obvious that he didn’t like his father, so why let him bother him like that. Beomgyu shakes his head solemnly, his fingers twisting against one another as he opens his mouth only to close it again. “Wouldn’t it be better to block him?” — “I can’t.” He suddenly exclaims, turning to you with a small frown. 

Why not? Why let something like that plague you, why not just cut it off, why not just let go? 

It was then you realized that perhaps you and Beomgyu shared a lot more than you’d initially wanted to admit.. Your eyes drop to the bracelet around your wrist, the silver glinting under the moon. — When your attention returns to him, you find him already watching you, his gaze following yours as it resided by the jewelry on your arm. You think he might make another comment about it, but he doesn’t, instead he merely sighs as he runs a hand through his hair. 

“I think..” You begin, your voice a quiet whisper as you stare past him, eyes drifting off into the distance as you let the words roll off your tongue. “I think you’re stuck on what could’ve been rather than what you have.” Beomgyu doesn’t say anything, his gaze mindlessly dropping to his hands in front of him as he bites the inside of his cheek. “What I have”, he mutters with a small frown, clearly not intended for you to hear but you did. 

“You have your mom.” 

He scoffs, already anticipating your next self-victimizing rant about how yours was dead. “My mom is-” 

“A wonderful person.” Your statement catches him off guard and his attention shifts back to your face as he studies you with a look of wariness. “And you would see that if you spared her more than a glare”, you continue as you watch his skeptical expression. — You had never felt anything besides hatred for Beomgyu, and you had been so blinded by your rage that in a way, you had become almost exactly like him. But as you finally take a step back to view him completely, his disheveled frame, his slumped shoulders and runny makeup — pity washes over you, the same pity you had felt on that night two years ago; the night everything went wrong. 

“Stop holding her accountable for his mistakes.” 

You can see the twitch of his face at your words, as if he wanted to refuse them, to lash out on you, but he didn’t. Instead he looks to you with the most sorrowful look you’d ever witnessed on him. — “How do I do that?” He wonders, his voice is thick, laced with his previous tears. Biting your tongue, you hold back from saying what you thought he wasn’t ready to hear but Beomgyu clings to you, his hands wrapping around the fabric of your shirt, his grip near trembling. 

“I miss my mom.” He whispers, his voice breaking as a lonesome droplet falls down his cheek, slicing through the dark smear of charcoal on his face. Your jaw falls open, stunned by the way his resolve so suddenly crumbled. And as you heard the words leave his lips, “i miss my mom”, you could practically feel every single one of his emotions as they washed over him in thunderous waves. — You missed your mom too, you missed her terribly. 

He hiccups, his tears creating a damp spot on the shoulder of your shirt. “H-How do I get her back..?” The question comes out muffled as he grips you tightly. “Please…I want my mom back.” — Your eyes sting and you feel yourself slowly losing your composure as you draw in a ragged breath. With a small push of your hands, you manage to create some distance between the two of you, enough to where you could see his wet face, his glossy eyes and swollen lips. 

“You have to let him go.” 

You reach for his phone, powering it back on. Beomgyu looks hesitant as he wipes his eyes, exhaling shakily when you extend the device to him. “The longer you let him ruin you the more you and those around you will suffer.” — With wobbly fingers he grasps his phone, slowly finding his dad’s contact info. He wavers, thumb hovering above the block button as he bites his bottom lip. 

You don’t know why you felt the need to help him, why you felt like you had to comfort him, reassure him. — “You’ve said it yourself haven’t you? Some people don’t deserve children.” His gaze flickers up to meet yours at the statement, a glimmer of recognition in his eyes. “Don’t let him have that privilege”, you say as you let your hand rest on top of his. 

Beomgyu slowly nods, reluctantly pressing the dreadful button as he erases his father from his life. He purses his lips, breathing out through his nose as he stares at the screen for a minute, as if contemplating his next move. — “He’s gone.” He finally states, the frown on his face only deepening as he swallowed thickly. 

“Sometimes it’s better that way”, you mumble, letting go of his hand as you lean back, your gaze dropping to the bracelet around your wrist. 

Your heart pounds loudly in your chest, blood rushing through your body as you reach for the small lock, carefully unclasping the piece of sacred jewelry. Beomgyu and you…You weren’t so different, you think. And if he could do something, something like that, then who says you couldn’t? 

His eyes are on you, watching intently as you with shaky hands let the bracelet fall from your skin, feeling oddly empty without it. — It feels light in your hand, and you wondered how something so significant could weigh so little. It made it easier to let go. — Beomgyu lets you grab his wrist, the frown on his face creasing further when you tie the silver around him. 

“Now she’s gone too.” 

You give him a small smile, meeting his wide eyes as they shift from the bracelet around his wrist and your relieved expression. 

It’s without thinking that you lean in, softly pressing your lips against his in a small kiss. But this time you didn’t feel guilty, nor did you feel dirty or ashamed. Instead it felt nice, it felt like closure. Letting your eyes flutter closed, feeling his warm and damp skin against your own, a stark contrast to the cold night surrounding you. Beomgyu lets you kiss him without protest and you feel the faint caress of fingers to your cheek. 

When you pull away he chases after you, only to be stopped by the palm of your hand on his chest as you shake your head. “It’s not like that. You know it too.” Your soft whisper makes his jaw clench, his fingers dropping from your face as they curl into fists. Then he nods, the corner of his lips pulling upwards, “yeah.” 

Gingerly rising to your feet, you dust some off the dirt from your jeans before your attention returns to him, still perched on the sidewalk. — Your outstretched hand is met by the raise of his eyebrow and you roll your eyes, “come on, I think there’s someone who would like to talk to you.” Beomgyu frowns but takes your hand nonetheless as he lets you pull him up. 

You walk like that, hand in hand, and it feels nice. Your heart sinks a little at the thought that it could’ve been like this from the start, had things worked out differently. But as you turn to walk through the small fence gate, and your eyes fall on Ms Choi, anxiously waiting by the front door, you find yourself smiling. And instead of grieving what you could’ve had, you would focus on what you did have. 

Beomgyu audibly swallows next to you as his gaze surveys his mother, and as Ms Choi notices the two of you approaching, her face lights up. — With a final squeeze of his hand, you let him go. It was satisfactory in itself to see him walk up to his mom, letting her wrap her arms around him for the first time in what you could only guess to be years. But they both made it look so natural as they fell into each other’s embrace. And it only confirmed what you had known for so long.

That Beomgyu was and had always been, a mommy’s boy.

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[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…risqué. 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.

[haunted-xander]

The survivors of the Killing School Trip didn't all wake up immediately. Their minds had to reconnect to their bodies properly and accomodate for the new memories they gained during the program. They all woke up slowly, and each in their own degrees of distress.

The day after the program's shut-down, Sonia woke up. Her eyes were glazed over as Chiaki helped her out of the pod, barely comprehending the world around her. By the time she'd been carried out of the pod room and into the open world, Sonia had finally collected herself enough to speak,

"...Nanami-san... It is you... is it not? The real you... the one I attended classes with, the one who... did everything for us. Our class rep. That is you, correct? I... am so very sorry for everything. I- no, we have caused so much trouble for you, and yet you stay here and assist us, saved us. I do not have the words to express my gratitude in full. ...Thank you so very, very much." Sonia's voice cracked as she could no longer keep her tears from running down her face, feeling the despair and hope all at once.

Chiaki patted her back comfortingly as she let Sonia cry it out. "...It's alright. I'm just happy to see you back to being yourself again. I missed you all so much, I would do anything to bring you back. ...And I did. You're back. And the others will come back too, eventually. I'm sure of it." Chiaki felt tears welling up in her own eyes as well.

Happy tears, for the first time in a long, long while.

Two days after, Fuyuhiko woke up. Unlike Sonia, who woke up as composed as she could be, he woke up screaming. The moment he was out of the pod and had regained the ability to move, he clutched at his lost eye and rushed over to stand by Peko's pod. He immediately leaned over it and cried as he looked at her unconscious face. "Peko... I'm so sorry, I never should've let it go this far. I-I couldn't stop it and I... I almost gave up. You gave your life for me and I almost threw it away like it was some fucking broken toy. I'm sorry, Peko, I'm so, so sorry..."

They weren't able to move him for hours.

It took three more days for anyone else to wake up, but when the day came, Kazuichi and Akane woke up at the same time. Kazuichi broke out into loud cries the moment he was out of the pod, having a hard time dealing with the weight of his actions as a Remnant and the still fresh memories of the Killing School Trip.

Akane on the other hand, woke up completely silent. Chiaki had expected her to start yelling and run around aggressively upon waking up, but instead she calmly walked over to Nekomaru's pod and stared blankly at his sleeping face.

She didn't make so much as a sound until the next day's breakfast.

After five more days, Izuru -or Hajime, whichever it would be- still had yet to wake up.

As much as she hated to admit it, a part of Chiaki was beginning to loose hope. She started to spend more and more time hovering over his pod, each passing day making the helpless feeling in her chest grow stronger.

At this rate, she would start to despair.

"...Nanami-san, Monaca-san. I have brought you some food. As you both skipped breakfast, I believe it would be best for you to eat now. Komaeda-san and... Hinata-san would want to see you in proper health." Sonia, sweet, caring Sonia, had made it a habit of bringing them food whenever they skipped meals to sit in the pod room. Even if Chiaki was hardly in the right mindset to appreciate it fully, she was truly grateful for the kindness.

"...Thank you, Sonia-san. I'll make sure to eat it. ...Sorry for skipping so many meals."

"No no, it is quite alright. I understand what you are feeling. ...Part of me wishes to watch over Tanaka-san as well, but... he would not be happy to see me in such a state. I am sure he would wish for me to take care of myself while he is... absent. ...I believe that Kuzuryu-san and Owari-san are of a similar mindset. They wish for those dear to them to wake up and see them thrive, to see them overcome the grief over losing them." The princess' words were solid, steady. She had absolute confidence in her statements. Chiaki was a bit jealous of that confidence.

Not long after Sonia had left and Chiaki had finished eating did she heard the soft hiss of a pod opening.

Izuru -or Hajime, she still had no idea which it'd be- was finally awake.

She jumped up and immediately rushed to the pod's side, eagerly awaiting the moment the man opened his eyes and looked at her. The man seemed to take a moment to gather himself, as he grumbled and squirmed before finally opening his eyes and revealed a mismatch of red and golden-green.

His eyes immediately glanced over to Chiaki, and a relieved yet tired smile showed on his face. "Nanami, it's you... you're really here. I missed you so, so much." He barely got to sit up before Chiaki launched her upper body at him and hugged him tightly around the neck. "Hinata-kun, you're finally awake...! I've been waiting so, so long for you! I missed you so much, Hinata-kun! I-I was almost beginnign to lose hope of you ever waking up, but here you are...! You're... finally here..."

Her voice trailed off as her eyes welled with overjoyed tears, the heavy feeling in her chest dissipating immediately.

"W-woah, Nanami...! I didn't know you could squeeze that hard! I-I missed you a lot too!" After a while of flailing his arms about, he finally hugged her back and held her so tightly she almost felt like her bones would break.

She didn't mind one bit.

It took a good long while for the tears to stop, but they still held each other close. The newfound silence didn't last long, as Hajime quickly spoke up again, "...Man, I need a haircut. How the hell did I deal with all this hair for so long!? I know Izuru Kamukura doesn't have feelings or whatever, but surely even someone like that would get annoyed by all this damn hair dragging about!"

Chiaki couldn't help but giggle at his frustration, finding the hair the least troublesome change he went through. "It's alright. I'll help you cut it. I'm not a hairdresser though, so I can't promise it'll be perfect. ...Or maybe you can do it yourself? You should still have all those talents... probably. There's probably an Ultimate Hairdresser up there somewhere."

"Yeah, I think so... But I don't really like dealing with my hair myself, so I'd much rather you do it. I don't care if it's perfect, I just want it short again. Ugh, even as Kamukura I hated dealing with my hair myself, it was always you or Komaeda that brushed and washed it. Stupid hair. Brushing it is so-" Hajime suddenly went quiet, not wanting to say the last word.

'Izuru' isn't completely gone it seems. Although the old personality of 'Hajime' was more prominent, traits of 'Izuru's' personality shined through.

Such as the problem with boredom.

It didn't matter, thought. Chiaki loved both 'Izuru' and 'Hajime' all the same, so it made her happy to know that 'Izuru' still lives on as a part of Hajime now.

[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.

[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.)

[stuffeddrawer]

I Didn't Ask For This

Rating: Mature TW: Character Death, PTSD, Survivor's Guilt, mentions of body horror, hurt no comfort Fandom: Dragon Age Word Count: 1902

MDNI

⁽ᵖᵒˢᵗ ᵈᶦᵛᶦᵈᵉʳ ⁻ ᵃˢᵐᵒᵈᵉᵘˢ⁻ᵖˢᵈ⁾

This isn’t what I wanted!

Gaius fell to his knees at the sight of his home on fire, knowing everyone inside was dead, his parents included. He could hear his mabari, Ronan, whining and begging for his attention when all Gaius could do was stare hopelessly at his burning home. It was like he could feel the heat of the flames from even here, burning deep down into the depths of his chest, licking at his lungs and curling up and twisting in his veins until all he could see was fire. He didn’t even realise he’d been crying until Ronan licked at his face to grab his attention.

“It’ll take us two weeks… to…” Duncan’s words trailed off when he heard a lack of following footsteps. He turned to see the youngest Cousland on his knees, slack-jawed at the sight of his home on fire. Duncan’s heart ached at the sight – it wasn’t an every day occurrence that one’s home was ripped out from under their feet and their life turned upside down. In a way, Duncan could relate, but he had Genevieve to thank for that. It was just a shame that he couldn’t use her words of wisdom for Gaius now.

Gaius continued to stare blankly at his home, tears still falling down his face like waterfalls and unable to move. Ronan whined next to him, trying to get him to move, to just snap out of it, if only to survive until Ostagar.

“Your parents wouldn’t want their sacrifice to be in vain, Gaius.” Duncan said, his low voice almost snapping Gaius out of the trance he’d found himself in.

I lost everything. My home, my mom, dad. I lost my oldest friend. I should have fought harder, should have stayed behind with Gilmore. I should have-

“Gaius, we need to move. Now.” Duncan ordered, tugging Gaius to his feet and urging the man to move. Gaius was barely lucid, but Duncan was able to hear that some of Howe’s soldiers had begun their march along the roads, ensuring no one survived the fire and no one could spin stories.

Gaius knew he wasn’t an easy kid – he knew raising him was difficult. When he was in his later teen years, closer to eighteen, he’d slip out and head to the brothels, masking himself to be someone else for a few hours before heading back home, drunk and smelling of cheap perfume and instantly getting yelled at by his mother for making her worry.

He might have hated living in the castle, but it certainly didn’t mean he wanted it burnt down.

If I had just stopped being such a damn fool…

The first night was the worst.

Duncan was kind enough to set up a fire for them, kept an eye on him, but it took Gaius longer than he liked to fall asleep.

Even after he’d fallen asleep, Gaius could still feel the lick of the flames on his skin, the intense heat of it all, he could still hear the screams and cries of the fallen. He could still taste the ash on his tongue. The sight of his home burning down before his eyes was so vivid that when he’d jumped up to wake himself out of a nightmare, he couldn’t tell if he was really awake. He’d woken himself up, staring at the fire and felt a fresh wave of hurt and grief wash over him.

The loss he’d gone through was still so new, and it didn’t surprise Duncan in the slightest that this young man was struggling. He just wished he knew what to say.

Gaius forced himself to keep his sobs as quiet as he could, though his shoulders shook with each heavy breath he took.

The remainder of the journey to Ostagar was painfully quiet. Gaius barely spoke beyond simple responses. He found himself flinching whenever Duncan lit a torch and he hated himself for it. He needed to steel himself, he couldn’t fall any deeper into this pit he’d dug himself. Gaius still blamed himself; he knew he should have fought harder, should have taken the fight directly to Howe for his betrayal.

“I should have stayed behind.” Gaius finally spoke, one final sleep away from Ostagar. It had gotten colder, and Gaius clutched his heavy fur cloak to him tightly. He refused to get anywhere near the fire Duncan had built, and he could swear he still felt the heat of it on his skin.

“You would have died alongside your parents.” Duncan calmly explained, tending to the fire. He poked and prodded at a few logs, ensuring he got the most of the heat. “You’re shivering.”

“I could have made a difference. I could have saved them. I could have—”

“Gaius, you would have been stuck in the same room as your father and your mother. No one else would be able to tell Fergus what had happened if you had died.” Duncan continued, his voice a bit sharper. He could see the spiral Gaius landed himself into, and he visibly saw the change he’d gone through. When Duncan first arrived at Castle Cousland, he’d seen Gaius as someone carefree and charismatic and charming. Now, that same man was a recluse, refusing to talk, refusing to join in on conversation. It was concerning, even for Duncan.

“Your parents begged for you to survive, to stake your claim and make something with your life.” He continued, staring right at the rogue over the flames in front of him. “It is your duty to follow through with it, to ensure their stories aren’t forgotten and that you live.”

Gaius was silent, looking away almost in shame before anguish took over his sharp features again. Duncan ignored the gentle quiver to Gaius’ lip, allowing him a moment of silence. He was about to speak up before Gaius spoke before he did.

“I don’t know how.”

“You’ll figure it out. After the stories I heard from the servants at the castle, you were quite the cunning man, sneaking out past the guards late into the night. Someone as subtle as you, as smart and resourceful as you, will find out how to make it past all this.” Duncan said, looking away and poking at the fire again. “If not for yourself, then at least for Fergus.”

Gaius shut his eyes tight, willing the tears away. He had to stop crying, had to stop wallowing in misery. He had to start moving again, before it swallowed him whole.

Ostagar was an odd sight – it looked abandoned from Gaius’ view and Duncan’s information on how there were few Grey Wardens made him understand why it looked so deserted.

He didn’t bother to pay attention to the man in shining gold armour, clocking in long after the meeting that he’d basically ignored the king in favour of becoming more lost within the deep spiraling of his mind, the afternoon sun hitting the breastplate in a way that nearly blinded everyone. Gaius barely held back the flinch as that feeling washed over him again, something he knew he had to work on. He felt disgusted, repulsed even by his own skin, like even if he’d clawed and ripped the flesh from his body, he’d still feel that fire licking in his veins, sobbing for people who were ash.

As time went on, Gaius would grin and bear the cold if it meant he didn’t have to go anywhere near fire. He grew more and more resentful of even living, angry and wondering why he was the Maker’s punching bag.

He remembered what Mallol told him, that everything happened according to the Maker’s will, but Gaius’ resentment only grew. He fought like he didn’t have a care in the world, throwing himself into fights that damn near killed him. Ostagar nearly killed him and he was angry that it didn’t.

For weeks after the battle of Ostagar, Gaius was slowly recovering, though he was still refusing to go near the fire. Even from his spot, he could still smell… whatever it was that Alistair had thrown into the pot.

Must have used lamb – Ronan loves lamb.

He peered over his shoulder, looking at the small group of people he’d met. He couldn’t quite tell what Morrigan was doing, but he could feel her gaze on his back, though it wasn’t hostile. Alistair seemed to be fighting a losing battle with keeping his bowl to himself, Ronan pawing at the man’s arms every other minute and whining as if he was starved. Poor beast. He didn’t quite notice what the others were doing, his gaze slowly moving back towards the fire in the middle of camp.

He could still feel the heat, could still taste the ash on his tongue, the debris coating his throat, could still fell that overwhelming guilt at being the only one who survived. He couldn’t find his brother at Ostagar and was forced to accept that perhaps Fergus had died. He didn’t want to believe he was the only one left, didn’t want to feel so fucking alone.

“Gaius.” He could hear a voice shouting for him – Alistair? “Gaius! Come join us, you look freezing over there.”

Gaius stood, but he slowly and almost haltingly made his way towards the fire, like it would jump out at him and swallow him whole. He ignored the panic as he got closer, hiding how his hands began to fidget, fingers picking at the seams of his gloves and threatening to ruin them.

Unfortunately, Alistair noticed, his brows furrowing in confusion, watching Gaius closely as he sat next to the blond. “What’s wrong? You look tense, and you’re…” His amber gaze darted between Gaius and the fire. “Glaring at the fire as if… it…”

“Fire took my family.” Gaius’ answer was curt and quick, and he missed how Alistair’s face shuttered, brows raising and a sad look plastered on his face. “Well, Arl Howe took my family, but… The fire made it so I can’t even give them a proper burial. I can’t even go back; Howe might actually finish the job and make sure I’m dead.”

“And they couldn’t find your brother.” Alistair sighed, the pieces falling into place for him. “No wonder you seemed distracted when we were in the Korcari Wilds.”

Gaius hummed, answering without really saying anything for a long moment. “I never asked for this… Sure no one here has, but even though I ran off often, whoring myself and drinking until I was blacked out and hauled back to the castle by guards who couldn’t look me in the eye, it didn’t…” Gaius’ voice cracked, more tears threatening to spill the longer he stared into the flames.

He could have sworn it licked at him again, could have sworn they were under his nails, in his veins, poking and prodding its way free until all that remained of Gaius was ash and armour. He felt so hot, yet at the same time, so completely and irrevocably numb. He wanted to scream and shout and cry how it wasn’t fair that he got to live when the others died.

“I should have died with them – if I had just snuck away when Duncan’s back was turned and tried to fight back, tried to make a final stand… I should have fought back against Howe; I never asked for this.”