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damn-stark · 3 months ago

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Chapter 25 Loss Of My Life

Chapter 25 of Moonlight

A/N- 💔🖤

Warning- Swearing, talks of pregnancy and blood, ANGST, some fluff? Violence, death, and SPOILERS!! FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, long chapter.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode/Pages- 469-490

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

How long can bliss last when it’s being poisoned by the knowledge of a dooming death?

Night soon turns to morning and you have yet to utter the reason why you came after Aemond. Then again even if the sun is miraculously out in the rainy slums of the Riverlands, for you it’s like the sun's light never rose and replaced the dark night. For you, the world is dull and dark as all that occupies your mind is the thought of his looming death.

Or so that’s what Helaena said.

You try to deny it. All night you tried to be in denial and think that she was wrong, but you know better. You know she’s never been wrong about a dream she’s foretold, so why would this one be any different? And it’s not like she’s deceitful to try and play it off that way. She’s right and no matter how many alternatives you try to think of, there’s no way around it.

Except if you leave and are never found again. It would hurt those you love to leave without a word or a trace, but if it saves Aemond from his doom then you can’t be against it. You aren’t…

Is he?

But are you really not against it? Leaving your mother behind? Vanessa? Your cousins, and…him too? Everything you have ever known?

One thing is dreaming of leaving. One thing is thinking about it without actually attempting to do it, and actually planning to leave is another thing. Are you really able to do it?

You think about the answer as you watch how the stream moves downriver. You’re meant to catch fish for lunch later, but so far you’re empty-handed and simply full of thoughts until the moment Aemond’s reflection appears on the water and pulls you from the depths of your unraveled mind.

“Should I still hold faith in your skill?” He says lightheartedly as he notices the lack of fish, making you stand up from your crouched position and flash him a very faint smile. You try to respond with something witty, but at that moment you’re so plagued by your poisonous thoughts that you can’t muster the energy to do so. You just lose your smile and look down at the ground as you fiddle with your sapphire ring.

Aemond takes note of your lack of response right away and can no longer ignore how quiet and melancholy you’ve been all morning.

“What’s wrong?” Aemond finally picks on your silence and long dragging frown.

You stop fiddling with your ring but keep your eyes downcasted, stealing a breath before you finally share what’s been plaguing you. You can’t avoid it anymore or it will destroy you from the inside out.

“Aemond…I came to find you because,” you pause and take another breath as if what you’re going to say is the most taxing thing ever. “Helaena told me…that you are going…to,” you stop and lightly shake your head as you can’t accept what you’re about to share out loud.

However, you do, you say it but with every word hurting every part of you. “…Die in fourteen days.”

Not a single breath of shock escapes past Aemond’s lips. He doesn’t utter a word of disbelief, or move to express any single emotion. He stays where he is and remains as still as he was, making you believe that he somehow didn’t hear you or that he’s just speechless, so you slowly trail your eyes up to read him, but you don’t catch what you expect. His lips are parted but when your eyes find his, he closes his mouth and looks at you with his eyes simply caught under a mist.

Nothing of what you just revealed seemed to have fazed him so you slowly work around that confusion and begin to assume that he already knew.

It looks like he does and you only just found out his secret. That’s how you read his face.

“You…”

“I knew,” Aemond finishes for you since can barely voice your response. “Helaena told me the night you found out about your father leaving.”

You’re hit with shock. Instead of Aemond, you are the one hit with disbelief that causes your eyebrows to knit together, and your lip to form into a deeper and more displeased frown.

“But,” Aemond interjects to try and immediately console you. “It’s not true. I am not going to die in fourteen days or at all during this war,” he says but lacks confidence, you can hear the attempt to sound so, but you can’t feel it oozing off him or displayed on his long face.

“She was wrong. You can’t trust the words of a mad woman, and Helaena has never been sane,” he adds but nothing of what he says works to comfort your aching soul or running mind—“I am going to outlive her prophecy.”

“Story,” you mutter under your breath and step forward with a spike in energy and take his hands to hold them within your hold before you drag your hands up his arms, and then slowly slide them up to his face as if taking your time to take note of the smallest details.

“We can leave,” you share a plan that you mindlessly have no more doubts about. You say the words to him and you know that you can in fact leave it all behind for him. You found your answer in his eye.

“Together,” you continue with a nervous smile as you stroke his face. “I need only fly to King's Landing to get Aerion, but after that we can take our dragons and escape to Yi-Ti, to somewhere far, somewhere beautiful where we can raise our children. Where we can have the rest of our family and not worry about any feuds between our families. We could build a keep of our own by the sea so we can teach our children to fish, where we need not worry about a thing. Where we only have to think about our love and our children. Our family.”

You nod softly in hopes that he will mirror your actions and escape away with you, but no matter how intently he listens and holds your glistening eyes, he doesn’t utter a word or even let his head twitch. Thus you continue.

“Our children wouldn't have to have anything stolen from them like things were taken from us. They wouldn’t have to yearn for what they deserve. They wouldn’t have to be bullied or be sent away. They would grow happy and have everything we didn’t. We,” you press breathlessly and put more force on the hold you have on his cheeks. “We would be happy. We would be together until the rest of our days.”

Aemond holds your gaze with nothing to say with neither his words nor his eyes. He looks at you with a soft and admiring gaze that lets him press his forehead against yours and makes you believe that he will finally give in to your proposal.

Alas as that relief and happiness start to spark and attempt to take down your agony and cure you of that poison, when he pulls back he looks at you with a confidence he couldn’t muster before. Thus that cure, that relief, and that joy die out just as quickly as they started to grow, making you desperate and causing those tears in your eyes to grow a lot thicker than before.

“Please,” you beg and stroke his cheeks again. “Please Aemond.” You cry.

Aemond tilts his head as he swallows back thickly and you read his refusal to accept your proposal, causing you to peel away from him and step back with a gasp.

“Trust me,” he finally gives voice to the thoughts that have been running behind his eye. “My love, trust that I will win. That I will live. You hold so much blind faith in the words of mad witches and women that you fail to see the reality. Vhagar is strong. Vhagar is powerful. Vhagar will kill Caraxes and Daemon. We will win this war and give our children that same happy life that you want them to have in Yi-Ti, here. I will not die.”

You want to believe him. You want to believe every word that just came out of his mouth. You want to believe Helaena is wrong, but you would be oh so stupid to do so. And you can’t be stupid, not when it comes to your sanity because if you let yourself believe what he wants you to believe the reality will destroy you. There’s already little left of you, you can’t handle more pain. Not like that. Not again.

“You believe that?” Your voice quivers.

Aemond stays quiet for a second before he nods stiffly. “I know it,” he deadpans.

You blink repeatedly as tears crawl out of your eyes and nod before you step back and throw out a response he isn’t expecting. “If that’s what you believe then so be it, but I will not stay and watch you fight because I know the truth. You are going to die if you don’t leave and I for one won’t be around to watch it.” You throw out with tears crawling down your cheeks before you turn swiftly in an attempt to storm away, however, Aemond is quick and captures your arm to turn you and face him.

He’s about to say something to counter what you just said but you pull your arm from his grasp and continue voicing your emotion-filled argument. “No. No! You don’t know what it’s like watching someone die in your arms. You,” your breath trembles. “You don’t know what it’s like hearing someone take their last breath. You don’t know what it's like to feel helpless as you hold the dying body of someone you love. You don’t—you don’t. You don’t know!” You exclaim and shove him back with force brought by your grief and frustration.

“But I do, I lived it. I live it every day in my dreams. Jacaerys dies again and again every day in my dreams. My father does too. Every night. I watch them die in my arms every night and every night I’m reminded that I couldn't do anything to save them. To save Jace,” you mewl and wipe away the stream of tears off the curve of your cheeks. “I won’t have you haunting my dreams too. Grieving you every day of my life will be enough pain already. I won’t put myself through more just because you have a death wish.”

Aemond draws in a deep shaky breath and brings his chin up to look down at you with a glossy eye and pain.

“You’ll leave then?” He mutters to the bitter air. “Back to her? You’ll leave me again for her?”

You let out a shaky sigh and grow softer this time. “It’s because I love you that I’m leaving,” you remind him of something he should know, but something that he himself isn't sure of after he heard your speech. It’s like your lack of belief in him pierced his heart. It aches.

“It’s because I love you so much that I have to go,” you continue to say. “I love you Aemond. Everyone I know says I shouldn’t, everyone I know says you’re bad for me, but to me, that’s all nonsense because I love you. I am in love with you and no one can ever replace you, but it’s because I love you so deeply that I can’t watch you die.”

Tears continue to run down your face, as well as down Aemond’s face. You both look at each other with such a deep and harrowing heartache that only people who love each other could ever express.

“If that’s what you believe then,” he says in a shaky voice. “You must know…no, you must remember that you are the love of my life. I will never and I have never loved anyone as much as I have loved you.” He nods gently, and you stand there before him and just cry as you take in his words—“the truth is you are the only person in this world that I love. You are my weakness and strength. My heart belongs to you and only you. So go if that’s what you want. I won’t stop you. I won’t fight you. Not anymore.”

You ignore the screaming pain and nod since you can’t form a single syllable before you turn and walk away, with every step you take not being able to stop weeping.

You clutch onto your chest in hopes that will ease the pain, but you can’t breathe. You can’t see anything but the cloudy field that your teary eyes leave.

Nothing makes sense and everything hurts. It hurts so much, so deeply that you can’t think or feel. You’re numb as you walk further and further away defiantly, but, with every step that defiance to leave faltering until it completely breaks and you find yourself at a stop before you can reach your dragon.

Albeit before you can turn and return to Aemond, you let thoughts cross your mind and every single one of them tells you to get on your dragon and return home or join the Northern and Rivermen army, but your heart, oh, your feeble heart takes you back to Aemond, and you find him as he’s heading back to the hut.

“Swear,” you cry out. “Swear that you will fight with your life. Swear that you will live and I won’t leave you ever again. I will follow you anywhere and everywhere. Just swear.”

Aemond looks deep into your eyes and feels baffled at first, but when he sees that you’re being sincere he responds with what you’re seeking. “I swear.”

You take a deep breath and nod stiffly. “Okay,” you mutter.

——

Minutes turn to hours. Hours to days and days turn to two weeks.

Two weeks of always trudging along with the memory of Helaena’s words of the future, of the fate that awaits Aemond, the infamous love of your life.

He says such a fate is impossible, be assured he keeps saying. Believe in me he says over and over again, and as much as you want to, as much as you want to look at this foretold future in the face and deny its cruel tellings, if you let yourself believe then you will be crushed. You’ve known it before and you know it now.

It’s like a stain you can never remove. It’s always there in your peripheral vision, annoying and coming to your attention every time you forget about it.

“What happens after? After you kill Daemon?” You query slowly as if speaking as such will grant you more time.

Aemond looks away from your intertwined hands and briefly meets your eyes. “We join Daeron. With Cole dead there’s nowhere to go but to my brother.”

That’s if Daeron is still alive. The two dragonriders went to stop him and two old dragons with more experience than Tessarion should be enough to have taken Daeron down. Yet you don’t have a way to know in the middle of the forest.

“I’m sad Ser Gwayne had to die too,” you comment and earn Aemond’s immediate attention—“he was nice and good to be around.”

Aemond huffs and you smile faintly at the water surrounding your naked bodies.

“But seriously now, what of Aegon,” you continue to wonder. “There’s been no word of him so my guess is he’s still alive. Besides, the worst ones always have good luck don’t they?”

Aemond starts caressing your knuckles and sighs deeply before he sits up straight in the tub and looks at you smugly. “What is a cockless man worth to a building legacy? To a kingdom? He’s worthless now. If he’s found I’ll make him pass the crown to me. I have an heir, he doesn’t. I have the ability to have more children to continue our legacy. He doesn’t. I’m worth more than him, he’ll be…thrown aside.”

Well he is right about that, a king needs his heir and by their terms, he doesn't have them nor can he have them anymore, so he’s not much use to anyone, but would he give up the crown so easily?

Doubtful but he is gone so who knows?

“I suppose you’re right,” you interject to not answer him with silence.

Aemond hums in return and lets his head loll to the side as he now takes his time to study your face carrying a permanent sorrow, as if your eyes have already seen the tragedy you have to suffer tomorrow.

“Once we meet with Daeron I suppose we would stay where he is until the twins are born. They’re almost here,” he says and makes you pick your eyes off the water to pass him a faint smile.

“What is it?” He doesn’t hesitate to pick up on your sadness that’s a lot more prominent today. Just a day before Helaena says he’s going to die.

“Just worried,” you share even though he knows because he’s heard it multiple times already and he can see it so clearly on your face.

“It’s misplaced,” he brings up quickly as if the words were recited. “I told you I won’t die soon. Not against Daemon. Not during this war.”

Your eyes soften as your grief threatens to bring tears to your eyes, but you refuse to cry so you just look at him with a saddened look that pulls his body to you so he can sit in between your legs and lay his head back on your chest.

“I’ll be okay,” he says softly.

You hold his gaze to seek for more reassurance, to clutch onto some sort of bliss to ease your aching chest, but as you look deep into his blue eye all you get in return is more agony. It’s such a burning thing. So heavy on your chest. So plaguing.

Why is it that Aemond tends to make you so sad? Is this what love brings? Is this what it has to offer? A lifetime of sadness? Is loving someone supposed to hurt so much?

Staying in the hut, counting down the days to the foretold day has made you open your eyes to this nonstop sadness he keeps cursing you with and it’s truly disheartening, like cold water to the naked body. It makes you wish at times that perhaps you should have stayed true to your screaming desires and left when he said he would continue fighting despite being told he would die. You should have saved yourself the pain, but you stayed like a love-sick idiot.

You stayed and stay despite your troubles, insisting on sticking by him, and following him away from the hut on dragonback because like a fool you make yourself believe those words he kept repeating over and over again in your ear.

There’s not even hints of realization penetrating your mind that his doom can be only a hairsbreadth away when Aemond is proven right in believing Daemon would be at Harrenhal, the jewel of the Riverlands. You believe the promises Aemond made you because you refuse to think Helaena is right even though you spot the Red dragon Caraxes resting by the blackened castle the moment you fly above it, casting large darkened shadows with your dragons that give a short false sense of belief that the grey cloudy day was shunned and taken over by the night.

You believe Aemond is right with the fragments that remain of your heart. You believe him even through the sorrow he’s made you feel because that’s what he asks of you. You believe because no matter what, you love him. And it’s because you love him that you grab his biceps with force and plead one more time before Daemon can meet you and Aemond in the field.

“There’s still time, Aemond. We can mount our dragons and leave. We don’t even have to go far, we can fly to Daeron. Just choose before he comes.”

Aemond slides his arms away from your grasp to be able to cup your cheeks and pull in closer to you. “Your head is still in the clouds dreaming. Just like when we were young,” he speaks softly, but with no sign that he heard a word you said—“I’m not running. Not from Daemon. Not from this fight. The climax of this war is finally at hand, I will not cower now when my victory is near. Can’t you feel it?”

A pit grows in your stomach and a mist already covers your eyes, but you don’t dare believe anything else but what he says.

“Now come on,” he adds as he pulls away and leads the way away from the dragons, revealing your presence to not only Daemon but Alys too. She trails behind him with her eyes stuck on you.

“Nuncle I hear you have been seeking us,” Aemond breaks the silence first, but can’t break through that tension building up as Daemon gets closer and closer with no hint of fear, disbelief, or hesitation. He looks as he always does, smug, but probably even more so now that Aemond is right across from him.

“Only you,” Daemon retorts but then his eyes find you. “I can’t say I’m surprised, Princess. I can’t imagine your mother's heartache though.”

You swallow back nervously and cast your eyes down to the ground out of shame.

“Who told you where to find me?” Daemon then continues to direct at Aemond. “The princess?”

“Where else would you be?” Aemond remarks sassily. “Besides, I was told to come here by my sister.”

You slowly bring your eyes back up and glance at Aemond before you look back at Daemon, catching Alys stopping a few paces away from where he stops.

“You were a fool to come alone,” Aemond continues to throw at Daemon and puffs his chest out with a boost of confidence. “Or are you going to let witches fight your battles now?”

Daemon steals a glimpse at Alys and shakes his head before he meets Aemond's gaze. “No, she’s merely a friend who told me you’d come meet me here. She was right, and I’m right in knowing that you wouldn’t have come if I wasn’t alone.”

Aemond scoffs and flashes him a smirk. “Yet you are, and here I am. You have lived too long, Nuncle.”

Daemon nods stiffly. “On that much we agree,” he deadpans before he starts to turn around, only stopping to look at you before he can give you and Aemond his back.

“Do right by your mother, if not just don’t bother returning home,” he gives it to you bluntly without hesitation or remorse. Rather he sounds concerned and looks it too before he gives you his back and starts to make his way to his dragon.

However, before he can get too far, you interject. “Daemon.”

Said man comes to a halt in his tracks and lifts his head but doesn’t look back, letting you know he’s paying attention regardless.

“Is there anything you want me to tell Baela or Rhaena? Or my mother?” You ask not because you’re certain he’ll die but just in case he does.

Albeit he doesn’t pass you any messages. He simply shakes his head and speaks up in High Valyrian about another matter. “<Be the great fire that you’re meant to be. I know you can.>”

Your lips part in surprise and you’re left behind completely taken aback by what he chose to say. It’s true that your last interaction was kind, there was no resentment from you. You actually…became acquainted, but despite that, hearing him be kind is still surprising. It makes you think that perhaps if you hadn’t been so adamant about hating him you would have enjoyed having him as a stepfather.

Maybe in another life…

In this one, once he’s put some distance between him and you, you turn to Aemond with a shaky breath and see him walking to you with Blackfyre in hand.

“I want you to take care of it while I’m fighting Daemon,” he shares and hands you the sheathed sword.

“Why?” You probe as you look at it before meeting his gaze with confusion, seeing him look at the other sword around his hip; the one you had done for him a while ago with the Valyrian steel chain your grandmother had gifted you.

“I have this one. I prefer this one,” he says and looks back at you, making you hum softly with a flustered smile spreading on your lips.

Yet that smile soon thereafter falters, and a tense frown replaces it as you’re overfilled with worry as the time to fight Daemon is upon him.

“You swore,” you whisper shakily and he drops his head as he closes the gap between you to gently place his hand on your cheek. “Aemond,” you call out for his reassurance. “You swore.”

He nods softly before letting his eye find your gaze, feeling at that exact moment his eye softening and his pupil dilating. You both want to say so much, you want to speak so many I love you’s, but what are words compared to your love-filled gazes already speaking a thousand words that otherwise would have gone unheard?

“Do you believe in me?” He asks and with those words asking for your confession that he already knows but needs to hear for reassurance, and you…whatever doubt you had, whatever fear you have been carrying since you heard his fate, is nonexistent at this very moment. You believe him wholeheartedly.

“I believe in you,” you reassure him and drop the sword to throw your arms around his neck and clash your lips against his.

Aemond quickly secures his grasp on your cheeks and deepens that kiss. He savors the sweet taste, making it easy for you to linger in the moment, in the passionate gesture, and take more and more from him in hopes that would convince him to stay.

Alas, his mind is made and after a while, when you both need to breathe he parts, leaving only a string of saliva connecting the two of you.

“I love you,” you say breathlessly and a smile flickers on his lips.

“<I love you too,>” he redirects in High Valyrian and continues to look deep into your eyes as if trying to memorize every detail. All while you do the same with him to delay the inevitable.

If only you could stop him, but…reality comes knocking as he pulls away, stealing one last moment before he turns away from you and goes toward Vhagar, leaving you stranded where you stand unable to do anything but watch him reach his old dragon and scale her.

Once Aemond has mounted her he looks down at you from his saddle and flashes you a confident smirk, causing you to pass him a sweet smile in return and let it linger until he looks ahead and you’re no longer reflected in his eye.

Yet it’s only once Vhagar has taken to the skies that you pick up Blackfyre and turn to Alys.

“I know where we can watch the fight,” she says first as you can’t find any words to say, not at that moment. You find your breath and the ability to form words, but you don’t actually share them because you’re going to ask how this fight is going to end and she will give you the answer one way or the other, and you don't want to know so you remain speechless and follow her to the highest tower Harrenhal has.

A tower so high it almost touches the clouds, the wind is sharp and bitter, the lake looks like a glimmering sheet, and the view of both dragon and Dragonriders is clear. So clear and so close in fact it’s like you’re almost on top of your own dragon and there with them in battle.

Yet the distinction is clear right away when the first attack is given by Caraxes as he barrels down on Vhagar and Aemond, sinking his sharp teeth in her neck, and you not being able to do anything to help. You forcefully stand there frozen in shock and your breath stolen as if you had been hit yourself when you see the force Caraxes uses to slam into Vhagar.

Thankfully, the dragons are the only ones harmed, filling the air with their sharp and pained shrieks, and exchanging gashes with their piercing claws. Despite not wearing armor, Aemond is still unharmed and secured on Vhagar, making you fully and blindly lean towards believing him and believing that what you heard was false. It’s just not so foolish now, is it? Even though Caraxes refuses to loosen his jaw around Vhagar’s neck, your spirits are high because Vhagar is bigger, fierce, and battle-hardened.

The she-dragon jabs her claws in Caraxes’ flesh, making the dragon breathe out fire in hopes of burning her enough to stop, but she mirrors his blast and their fires paint the sky like an unsettling fiery storm. All whilst not burning any rider, but letting you and Alys feel heat waves crashing over you again and again until Vhagar shrieks so loud and so full of pain that it almost feels like the stones that make the tower shake beneath your feet.

And since both dragons are barreling towards the God’s Eye, you press your hands on the stone railing and lean over to look down as they sink down faster, letting you catch the way Caraxes’ teeth sink deeper in Vhagar’s flesh, pulling out a stream of blood from every wound.

In retaliation, the green beast only sinks her claws deeper into Caraxes’ belly and this time manages to slash his belly open. She then chomps down on Caraxes’ shoulder and tears away his wing, filling you with an urgency to see Aemond act against Daemon, or attempt something to strike the man down. Albeit both dragons are falling too fast, and neither of them attempt or can get away from each other just enough to gain more momentum. They’re falling fast and taking their riders with them.

Or so that’s what it seemed like because from one moment to the next you catch a glint against Daemon’s shining armor as he moves. Yes, Daemon sits up and swings one foot over his saddle, all while unsheathing his sword from his hip.

You part your lips to warn Aemond, to tell him to try something to escape the man’s wrath, but all you can do is draw in a sharp and shaky breath. The horror that hits you leaves you mute and keeps your breath, hostage, as you watch Aemond release one of his restraints to attempt to move away as he catches what Daemon is going to do.

Alas even as Aemond is on his last restraint, his attempts are futile, Daemon jumps off his dying dragon nearing the lake at a great speed, and gravity pulls him down to Aemond’s own saddle at a quick speed, causing your eyes to widen with despair and terror. Yet not a single word or breath continues to come out of you. You remain frozen and hopeful. You believe.

You have to believe in some miracle because Aemond is strong. He is skillful. He is smart. He can fight Daemon’s wild actions. You believe and believe with all your might. With all of you.

However, no matter what, or how much you plead, you witness Daemon swing his arm back before he pierces Dark Sister through Aemond’s remaining eye so hard, and so fast that the point rams out the other side, striking your hope and riddling you with shock and horror. You try to cry out his name, but a blood-curdling cry leaves your gaping mouth. And when the dragons at last slam into the water, your soul and those remaining fragments of your heart shatter.

Alys reaches out for you, she grabs your shoulder and tries to turn you around as she calls your name so you can calm down. Not for you but for the babies, but you’re so shocked by the scene you were just a witness that your first instinct is to refuse to accept the facts. Thus you push her away and run.

You run down the flight of stairs with your blood pumping wildly in your veins, leaving you unable to hear anything but the rushing blood, and leaving you unable to see a thing but what is right directly in front of you.

You’re so driven by your refusal to accept what you saw that your way to the lake is a blur. All that occupies your mind is Aemond. Aemond. Aemond, and Aemond.

He’s going to be okay. He’s alive. He’s alive. He’ll be okay. He promised. He promised. He swore!

Please, please, please…

Your feet hit the water and you snap out of your stupor to search the blood-tainted waters for any sign of Aemond either trying to swim away or still clung to his saddle. You don’t bother to keep an eye out for Daemon, you forget about his existence as you slosh through the bloody water.

“Aemond!” You cry out. “Aemond!”

A hand clutches your shoulder so you snap around swiftly but you’re greeted with Alys’ green eyes.

“No,” you mutter as you recognize that it’s not who you’re looking for. “No.”

“Stop, you can’t go any deeper. Daemon,” she pauses and you catch tears brimming in her eyes. “And Aemond are dead,” she says to try and make you come to terms with the truth, but you’re ignorant to the truth and angry that she would dare and make such a horrible claim. “There was no surviving that strike. And there’s no surviving that fall. They’re gone. They’re dead. Now come on, it’s not good for you or for—”

“I don’t care!” You yell back and slap her hand off you. “I don’t care!”

You turn back around and continue to trudge through the water which becomes heavier and heavier to manage as you go in deeper.

“Aemond!” You cry out. “Aemond…please…” you trail off into a broken whisper and come to a stop as the water hits your chest.

“Aemond!” You call out and search the waters, every perimeter that you can see, but dragon remains are all that float on the surface.

Yet even then you cling onto hope and wait, wait, and wait some more in hopes he’ll descend from the bloody waters and come to you to prove that he fulfilled his promise to you so as to not leave you alone in this cruel world.

He can’t leave you alone. He’s going to…survive so you wait to avoid feeling the sea of pain you’re holding back.

Eventually, the water once boiling by the steam coming from the dragon's blood is cool, and your body starts to shiver since you are not immune to the cold like you are to the fire and the heat’s touch, but still, you wait and avoid the truth, believing Aemond will rise from the depths of the water.

Alys continues trying to pull you away but again you push away her attempts. It’s not until you’re forcefully turned around and facing…Addam that you start to return to reality.

“A-Addam?” You call out in disbelief and raise your hands wrinkled by the water to touch his face and prove to yourself that he is in fact here, holding you. “Addam, wh-what are you…”

“I will tell you later, you just need to get out of the water. You’re freezing and shivering.” He scolds you and starts pulling you. You move with him but then stop and look back at the gruesome scene sinking in the water.

“But…” you trail off as you slowly start to grasp onto truth. “Aemond,” you breathe out and start to gape like a fish out of water as the truth starts to seep through.

“Oh,” you gasp and flashes of Daemon piercing his sword in Aemond’s skull and killing him at that instant passes through your head, making the undeniable slap you in the face.

“No,” you quiver and let Addam go to turn and face the remains sinking in the water. “Aemond,” your voice trembles, and your chest clenches, it hurts. Your entire being hurts. It all hurts.

“No, no, no…” you trail off and lose balance, but luckily Addam catches you and pulls you up. When you meet his eyes that look at you with pity all those emotions that you were pushing back burst through all the barriers you put up and flood your system, filling you with agonizing pain that starts from your chest and spreads like waves all throughout, shattering everything you are, what little you held onto, and leaving nothing but a sad little husk of your body. That’s what it did, Aemond’s death left nothing but a shell that’s riddled with the memory of pain. And all you can do is cry out, filling the cold air with your heartbroken wail.

“Come on,” Addam tries to lure you out of the water. He grabs your arm to drag you out, but you fall limp and your knees hit the lake floor.

“I can’t. I can’t,” you repeat and shake your head. “No. He promised. He promised me. He has to come back.”

Addam looks at Alys but she couldn’t even break through your stupor so she lets Addam continue to help.

“He’s gone, okay?”

You weep at the sound of his words and he hisses as he realizes his mistake.

“He has to come back to me,” you cry. “He has to. He promised. I love him. I can’t leave him here alone.”

“I know, I know,” Addam mutters and grabs your face so you have no other option but to look him in the eyes. “I hear you, but listen, he’s gone. He’s not coming back. But you. You’re breathing and your babes, his babes, they need you alive. All of them. Would he want you to die here?”

You shake your head as your falling streams of tears add to the lake's body. “I love him,” you mumble. “Please.”

Addam frowns and takes a deep breath without adding anything because what is there to add that you haven’t heard?

Yet his silence still pierces like a thousand swords and you’re riddled with more agony. “It hurts,” you weep. “It hurts.”

Addam nods. “I know. I know, now come on. Let’s get inside please.”

You look out to the water one more time in hopes you’ll see a glimpse of Aemond, but once again, you’re met with nothing, so you’re left doing as Addam says.

——

*LATER*

There below your feet lays a material you easily sink into. It’s grainy and soft, but when you lower your head to identify what you stand on, there’s more of the same darkness that consumes the entire empty hall you solely occupy.

You try to strain your eyes. You squint to catch a glimpse of anything that might clue you into where you are, but it’s like you stand in a void. Yet it’s not a deafening void. You’re not surrounded by silence, in the shadows that surround you, you hear someone humming a song. You just can’t pinpoint who it is you hear, but you hear the humming coming from the end of the hall.

“Who’s there?” You ask the void and step forward, but the moment you do, you’re startled when you catch something from the corner of your right eye light on fire. Something grand that finally illuminates your side with light, and when you quickly snap your head in that direction, you come to an immediate halt when you see that it’s a body set ablaze. But who’s?

You can’t tell. You can’t identify who they are, just that it’s a body. And they’re not the only ones, five more bodies are set ablaze around you, blinding you instantly, but finally providing a bright light with their hot fires that consume away the darkness.

When your eyes adjust to the sudden brightness that broke in the hall, the first thing you catch is what you stand on. At long last your curiosity is fed when you see that you stand on ashes. What are the ashes in particular?

You don’t know, you won’t, and the truth is you don’t want to know. You happily leave that as a mystery to not strain your withered self and instead drift your attention to a bloody set of footprints staining the stone ground.

They seem to lead forward, so you try to follow them with your eyes, but as your eyes scale to the next set of footprints, suddenly those too are set ablaze and light a path that your eyes follow down the room, letting you finally figure out that you don’t stand in some desolate void. You finally lift your head with the intent to watch the blazing path and see that you’re standing in the middle of the Red Keep’s throne room, but that’s not all. At the foot of the stairs that lead to the Iron Throne sits an abandoned wooden throne.

No one before, and no one that you know has used a wooden throne. Not even your grandfather Viserys. There’s no need for it when the great throne is standing behind it in all its glory. Why is it there?

That’s a question you do want to feed an answer to, but alas, as you mindlessly walk down the blazing path guiding you ahead and setting the ends of your gown on fire, that wooden throne is also sustenance to the great fire. Its ravenous flames quickly swallow the wooden throne whole, making you stop in your tracks and look at it with more confusion. What does this all mean? Why are you here surrounded by fire?

You need to know, yet more questions infiltrate your mind when you catch that someone is sitting on the Iron Throne. You can see the soles of their bloody feet hanging down from the great throne. They’re the ones who are filling the hall with their humming. Can it be? Only one person comes to mind when you think of someone sitting on that throne.

“Mother?” You call out in the burning hall, and the humming at last comes to a stop.

You slowly scale your eyes up the throne to look at her in the eyes, but when your eyes land on the face of the person sitting on the throne, you gasp and stumble back when you see that…it’s you.

You’re sitting in that throne room with your blood-covered hands lazily hanging off the armrests and carrying something hidden in the shadows.

You sit there comfortably with a scowl on your blood-stained face. You sit there with your nose in the air, and your gleaming eyes reflecting the fires that surround the hall and stand between you on the floor and you on the throne. You sit there with a chainmail veil hanging off your head dripping blood on your cheeks, making it look like you’re crying blood. You sit there…it’s you that’s reflected in your eyes. And the person sitting on the throne at last acknowledges you standing baffled on the floor and begins to lift their bloody hand, pointing Aegon the Conqueror's blood-dripping crown at you.

You don’t tell yourself anything, you just menacingly point the blood-dripping crown at yourself, causing your breath to hitch and your widened eyes to stay focused on the crown.

There’s so much you could say, but there’s no words you can actually form and voice. You stand in stunned silence until you blink as your eyes go dry with how long you were staring without blinking, and you’re ripped away from the incredibly confusing scene and brought back to a firelit hall in Harrenhal, watching Blackfyre glimmer against the fire warming the hall.

Now you should go mad with confusion, you should be shocked and demanding to know what it is that happened, but alas you’re at Harrenhal, there’s only one explanation to what you just saw, so you at last lift your eyes off the sword and look the culprit right in their green eyes.

It was Alys. There’s no question about it. There’s no need for reassurance, she passes you a faint knowing smile, and with that gesture alone you know it was her that let you see that vision. As for why? She won’t say, no matter how much you ask. You have to figure out the meaning by yourself or wait for a version of that vision to come to life because it is coming. As to when well that will come to you soon enough.

“How are you liking the Riverlands, Addam?” You hear Alys probe.

“Well they're…wet,” he says lightheartedly with a small chuckle. “I have been here for fourteen days and I have never seen more rain in my life than I do here. How do you do it?”

“When you live here as long as I have, you grew to miss when it’s not raining,” Alys says back. “So is it safe to say you would not find a home here?”

Addam scoffs. “No, no. Perhaps visit once in a while, but no. I’d miss the sea, and the sun.”

Alys laughs softly and then adds something aimed to make you interject. “You and her are the same, just like cats, only prowling when the sun is out of hiding.”

You give no reaction, you don’t even acknowledge her or anything besides. If Addam and you weren't by the fireplace neither he nor Alys would be able to tell that you exist in the hall, you blend in with the silence and the stillness of the room as you remain too grief-stricken to speak or move a muscle. You just keep looking at the Valyrian sword that you hold against the floor as if it carries some kind of hope that you will be able to see the man you lost one more time.

“Here,” a whisper captures your attention but doesn’t make you move to look at it, you remain frozen until a bowl is placed above the handle you keep clutched—“It’s warm, and Alys says it’s your favorite stew of hers.”

You blink and look over at Addam now sitting beside you, his gaze not riddled with worry, but an attempt at reassurance with his eyes soft and only focused on you.

“Eat please,” he insists gently whilst he slides his hand down to wrap it around yours and give it a gentle squeeze. He doesn’t say anything, he just offers you a comforting smile before he pulls his hand away and remains in his new seat. You then take this stolen moment to really look at him and finally come back to that question he never answered before; why is he here?

“Addam, what are you doing here?” Your voice is hoarse as you finally find a reason to make yourself present.

Albeit he doesn’t answer right away, he looks at you and his lightheartedness fades but only for a flickering second because he then offers you the same assuring smile.

“How about I tell you tomorrow when you’ve rested okay?” He offers

You immediately shake your head and press him, finding the motivation to focus on something else besides your grief. “No, I’m leaving today. Tell me now.”

Addam’s face falls completely and he then shares a concerned look with Alys before he shifts in his seat and clears his throat, watching you scoop a spoonful of your food before he gives you what you asked for.

“Well…I’m here at Harrenhal because I heard the fight from the Isle of Faces, and when Seasmoke and I went to check we saw Caraxes and Vhagar…”

You swallow back thickly as you physically react to the name that reminds you of Aemond.

“…crashing in the lake. I didn’t know if Daemon was alive, he might have been and he might have needed my help, so I came and that’s when I saw you.” He shares but that only answers part of the question.

“Okay,” you drag out as you nod your head and take another bite of food, taking your time to chew and think about what he did give you before you swallow and follow up with more. “But what were you doing in the Riverlands in the first place? Why were you at the Isle of Faces? You’re meant to be home with the Queen. Are Ser Hugh and Ser Ulf back? Is Daeron dead?”

Addam blinks and glances down, shaking his head just slightly before he answers verbally. “No, and no…Ulf and Hugh never returned,” he pauses and he looks back at you with a slightly angry look, but mostly his face is contorted with distress. He then says your name and reveals what you didn’t know because you were with Aemond in a hut for fourteen days.

“Hugh and Ulf betrayed Queen Rhaenyra. They betrayed our side and instead aided Team Green in taking Tumbleton.”

You shake your head, but not because it’s unbelievable. You can’t be shocked over something that was expected. You’re just caught in disbelief because it happened and you weren’t there for your mother. It happened and you weren’t there to help her deal with that aftermath or a plan for a counterattack.

“The Queen was so struck by the news that she also suspected me of being a traitor,” he keeps sharing and this time the news is starting to sound unbelievable—“She sent guards to take me for questioning and arrest me, but Lord Corlys warned me just in time to escape,” he says with more of a droop of emotions in his voice. “That’s why I’m here in the Riverlands because I ran, but,” he presses with more stress and his eyes wide and desperate. “I did not scheme with them. I did not betray your mother or our side. I didn’t know what they had in mind. You have to believe me.”

You stare at him blankly for a moment, making him believe that you also believe he was in cahoots with the other two, but that’s far from the truth, that doesn’t cross your mind whatsoever. You’re just going through the disbelief in your mind about your mother succumbing to panic and pointing fingers so quickly when other times she would hang onto the hope that he wasn’t like the other two. You have to wonder what she thinks of you now, and what made her turn her back on Addam so easily.

Moreover, with what you know now a more urgent need to leave Harrenhal to do what you need to do grows within you.

“I believe you,” you assure Addam as you wrap your hand around his arm to give it a comforting squeeze, hearing him sigh with relief as he offers you a relieved smile.

“I know you wouldn’t do that. It’s unfortunate that we lost Vermithor and Silverwing though. Alys,” you drift your attention to her poking the fire. “Do you know the casualties?”

“The Rivermen and the Northnermen took a heavy loss. It was a bloody battle, your numbers were depleted when the two dragonriders turned their cloaks,” she shares without hesitation, making you tighten your grip around Addam’s arm out of concern that begins to gnaw at your chest—“That’s all I know.”

You have the need to ask about…Cregan. He barges into your mind, but if he were gone she would have told you, no?

He must be okay.

“That only means that Daeron and his army are closer to King's Landing, and with three dragons, victory is on their side,” you mutter with growing frustration.

“We need to join the Rivermen and the Northnermen,” Addam cuts in, catching you by surprise. You would assume he would pressure you to return home where you’re not exposed to high threats, but you heard him right, he said ‘we’.

“We need to rebuild the armies and counterattack before the Greens make a move on Kings Landing,” he finishes with confidence rising with each word.

“We do?” You press him and he then turns his head and meets your gaze with a hint of hesitation before he sits up and nods confidently.

“We do. The Green men advised me toward taking that path,” he shares, making you look over at Alys to ask for confirmation as if she was a part of that conversation, but she just shrugs and turns away with her hair swiftly turning with her.

“They,” Addam pauses and when you return your attention to him his eyes dig deep in your soul with a sense of fascination. “…they put my hand against a Heart Tree and that’s where I saw you as clear as day bathing in fire without getting hurt. You were a part of its power. You were the fire that brought destruction to Tumbleton.”

You blink repeatedly in disbelief but don’t dare question him or his vision. You are going to ask about the Green men, but not now. Right now you are going to back his decision.

“Good. I wasn’t going to return home either, I need to make it right for my mother,” you say as you hold his gaze with the same fiery determination that now inflames your kindred souls. “We leave today.”

Addam reacts with hesitation this time and pulls back to question you. “Are you sure? I'm sure the army won’t move with the losses they took. We can meet up with them tomorrow morning.”

You shake your head and turn around to face the fire and continue eating. “No, we leave today. I don’t want to stay here longer than I have to.”

Not because of Alys. You wish you could spend more time with her, but alas there’s things you have to do and now this place will forever be a reminder of the loss of your life. Aemond will haunt you here, and you can’t just sit and think about how he was ripped away from you or you’ll cease to exist. That’s why you’re leaving today. That’s why you need to join Cregan today…at long last you will at last reunite.

The mere thought revives something within you. Something you thought was lost.

A/N- 👀

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader @crazymusicgirl104 @r-3dlips @strangersunghoon @just-pure-trash @ethereal-athalia @missyviolet123 @callsignwidow @xunquish-blog @tabathastan @weepingfashionwritingplaid @answer-the-sirens @silverlightsaber

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lennadanvers · 7 months ago

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Good girl

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

A couple of warnings: this does not contain smut. It's more of a hurt-comfort fic. (With a little bit of angst, I guess.) And it is self indulgent.

To all my oldest daughters/sisters, to anyone who has learned that everything and everyone else comes first (before you). To all the perfectionists, the hard workers. To those who haven't found home yet. You deserve to get what you give. You deserve to give less than all you've got. To the girls who were called perfect so much that it feels degrading now. You're not perfect. You're human. You can breathe and make mistakes. You're not different from anyone else. Take up space. Make mistakes. Be selfish. Be ugly. Love isn't earned, it is given.

“You don’t have to be good.”

You flinch and he wants to die.

Simon didn’t mean to say it. He doesn’t even mean it. Not like that. It’s just that it has been cooking for so long that it came out without his permission. Stupid bloody mouth.

He knows you hate that word. Good. Such an awful concept. As much as it is an impossibility to him- a thing like God or normal- it is a curse to you. Goodie two shoes, is what you hear. Little miss perfect. An iron ball at the end of the chain around your neck.

He knows.

He sees it when he gets home a couple hours after you, and- even before he’s taken off his shoes- you’re telling him what you got done around the house. It’s second nature. He hates it.

Hates it when you wash the dishes even though it’s late. Hates when you do everything for yourself. When you cook, make tea, clean. Simon has never ever had the chance to clean up your mess. You never leave a mess. Always tidy, always clean, always everything in its place.

It’s not like he doesn’t do his part. Simon does just as much as you do around the house. He vacuums, does laundry, buys groceries. But it’s not the same.

He noticed you never eat the last cookie. You always leave them in the package, ready for him to find. It’s the same when you bake cakes: you leave the last piece untouched. Before taking a shower, you ask him if he was about to. You can wait, he takes less time showering anyway. When you’re watching the telly and he peeks from the hallway, you pause to see if he wanted to watch something. “I’ve already watched a couple episodes,” you tell him, “are you sure you don’t want to see the match?”

He doesn’t.

Simon wants to see you relaxed. That’s what he wants. He wants to see two or three pairs of your shoes by the bed. He wants to open the kitchen drawer and see that there are no cookies left. Wants to get home and find you painting your nails, oblivious to the dirty dishes in the kitchen. For once.

He wants to feel that you live there. That you’re actually a person. He doesn’t want you to be your mother’s daughter or your brother’s older sister. Simon wants you to be you.

He clears his throat. He’s not sure what to do with his arms, so he’s standing in the middle of your living room, still in uniform. Shit, he should take off the mask.

You’re looking at Simon with the same eyes you have when you hang up after talking to your mother over the phone. After she spent half an hour telling you how your “little” brother- the man is barely two years younger than you, for God’s sake- has a terrible schedule, always sleeping too little and not helping around the house. Because yes, unsurprisingly, your brother still lives at home. Once he told Simon- apparently joking- that he didn’t have to sweep the floors if he didn’t have his own place.

“That’s not… Not what I mean.”

There it is again. Your patience. You’re hurt- he knows it, even though he can’t see it; you never let it show-, and you’re still waiting for him to finish talking. Always attentive. Sometimes, Simon wishes you’d yell at him. Or be rude. Something. He doesn’t want you to mistreat him, it’s just… You deserve to let it out. And he’s a bloody good punching bag. He’d gladly take that place. If only you granted him the honor.

“I just… Aren’t you tired, love?”

You twist the kitchen towel in your hands and his stomach mirrors the motion. Your voice is carefully stable and light. Fake. Empty. “Like, from work? No, I’m okay. I mean, this project turned out to be more…”

He can’t stand it. Simon grabs your hand and pulls, absorbing you into a hug. He knows you like his chest. It’s like a warm pillow, you told him once, it’s comfortable. He hopes you meant safe. He hopes this’ll be easier to hear if he isn’t looking at you. He hopes it is not too late. He hopes you’re not too hurt.

“I’m sorry. I know the project is taking a toll on you.” His big hand moves softly against your waist, holding you closer. “You’re doing so much. You always do a lot. Just wanted to make sure you knew you don’t have to.”

You’re tense, and he can’t tell if it is a good sign or not. Simon closes his eyes and kisses the top of your head, right under his chin.

“You’re always good, you know that, right? Even if you aren’t doing anything. I just want to get home and see you. Don’t need you to put the dishes away or clean the bathroom, okay? It is okay to rest.”

He pretends not to feel you wiping your cheek against his t-shirt.

“Really, I’m not tired. And I don’t want you to get home to a mess, I-“

“You can rest even if you don’t need it, yeah?”

You’re good to me anyway. I don’t love you because of the way you keep the mirrors clean. Please take from me. Let me help you so I know you love me too.

He doesn’t say it. They aren’t actual words in his brain. It’s more of a desperation deep into his heart. Simon hasn’t cried in a while, but your hair looks blurry as you shake your head.

“I know, don’t worry.”

He doesn’t think you do. Or, he knows you do, he just doesn’t think you feel it. He’s seen the guilt in your eyes. It is there all the time. It must be a terrible thing to bear. To not have done anything bad and still carry the guilt. Simon has killed. He deserves to hold the weight of those lives; of the punches, shots and stabs that took people away from the world. He knows it. But you… You’re guilty of existing. Barely. And it’s eating you from the inside.

“Can you do me a favor?”

He hates to put it this way. Doesn’t want you doing anything for him. Least of all this. But he knows this is the only way you’ll agree to do it, at least for now. When you chirp a high-pitched “Of course!”- of course, as if it was obvious, as if you owed him something- he fights to keep his voice steady. His heart is not, but hopefully you’ll pretend not to hear it.

“Go lay on the couch, love.”

You start to protest, but he isn’t having it. He turns you around, snatching the kitchen cloth from your confused hands, and guides you to the living room.

“Put on your show, why don’t you? You’re about to start the new season, right? Give me a second and I’ll be here with you.”

Simon knows better than to give you the chance to reply. He shoves the remote in your hands and speedwalks to your bedroom. It’s bloody spotless; he frowns at the perfectly made bed. Your drawers are the epitome of tidiness too, it’s easy to find your favorite pajama. He hurries back to you.

Usually- always- you get dressed without help. This time, he takes your clothes off, folding them neatly and placing them on the corner of the coffee table before easing you into the soft pajama. He places your very confused self back onto the couch and covers you with a blanket before laying behind you.

You don’t really complain after that, which makes him feel lighter. He knows this doesn’t fix anything. He also knows he has to start somewhere.

Simon orders your favorite food, only letting you get up to go to the bathroom, and pets your hair. When you fall asleep, he kisses your temple and carries you to the bed. Before joining you, he makes sure every inch of the apartment is perfect. No dirty dishes, no messy couch, not a single thing for you to do. He even puts air freshener. Simon doesn’t mind doing all that in the morning, but you’ll see it as a chore and he won’t let that happen.

No, tomorrow you’re staying in bed. You’re sleeping the ten hours you need, you’re snuggling with him, and you’re going to relax at least a little. He grabs the book you bought weeks ago but haven’t started yet on his way to bed, and leaves it on your bedside table.

As he gets under the covers, he wipes his cheeks. Tomorrow you’re learning to voice your needs and put yourself first. Tomorrow you’ll stop walking on eggshells in your own home. Tomorrow you’ll be upset, tired, angry, annoyed and lazy. And he’ll be thankful for that. He’ll step up and be calm, energetic, patient, loving and take care of things. Tomorrow he’ll take care of you, and you’ll let him.

Tomorrow you won’t be perfect. Tomorrow you’ll be happy.

Okay, he admits to himself. Maybe not tomorrow. But tomorrow you’re starting. He’ll make sure of that. Simon is going to take care of you.

#fanfiction #cod #simon ghost riley #lennadanvers #task force 141 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost #simon ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #hurt/comfort #hurt

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hannie-dul-set · 1 year ago

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STAR STUDDED BAGGAGE [2].

SYNOPSIS. the saying “never meet your idols” exists for a reason. you just didn’t expect the reason to be because said idols would end up declaring that you’re their alleged lover from a past life (past lives, rather). now you have three big celebrities vying for your attention, and it’s not as dreamlike as you imagined it to be.

PAIRINGS. choi yeonjun, choi soobin, choi beomgyu x female! reader. GENRES. reincarnation! au, celebrity! au (soloist! yeonjun, actor! soobin, rock band member! beomgyu), slight college! au, slight historical! au, rom-com, angst if you squint, reverse harem woohoo. WARNINGS. swearing, multiple instances where personal space is invaded HAHAHHA, the boys are very dramatic please understand their yearning hearts. WORD COUNT. 4.5k.

NOTE. woohoo! next chapter to this shitshow! some parts may be a bit confusing and vague....sometimes ominous....but all will be known in due time HAHAHHA (may be tempted to give a spoiler or two if u ask). hope you enjoy! please let me know what you think of this chapter and the story so far!

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

CHAPTER 2 — these meet-cutes aren’t cute at all.

YOU DON’T KNOW HOW TO READ LIPS. But you don’t need to know how to get the idea that Taehyun is shooting an insult at you right now. His face says it all. “I said you look like hell,” he repeats after you’ve removed your headphones, the music still leaking out even after you’ve settled it down the cemented table.

“Taehyun’s right,” Gaeul pipes in, and Woohyun seconds it. “You look like crap. What did you do last night?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” you grunt, melting into the table. The sound of Yeong-Il’s Second Life is still just barely playing in the background thanks to your loud as fuck headphones volume. “We finished our exams. Of course I stayed up until six in the morning watching dramas.”

Three disappointed stares and one of full respect. “Dude, you’re crazy,” says Huening. “What did you watch? Night Has Come? My Demon? You should’ve invited me. I feel betrayed.”

“Both,” you reply, but you don’t seem all too happy after consuming over twenty episodes worth of dopamine. You’re frowning. You slam a fist down the table and let out a groan. “But they don’t fill the Choi Soobin shaped hole in my heart— fuck! Why isn’t he getting employed? Why hasn’t he been posting on his Insta? It’s been six months since his last drama. I miss him already.”

Huening’s attempts to console you consist of a few pats on your back. Gaeul’s attempt is a lot more effective. “Didn’t you win a slot to Choi Yeonjun’s fansign this weekend? Aren’t you coming?” You spring up with a gasp. “Girl, don’t tell me you forgot.”

“I did! I fucking forgot because I have a deadline on the same fucking day, fuck! I want to die. I can’t do this anymore.”

“Are you still going?” asks Woohyun.

“Of course she is! Deadlines come ten times a week, but the chance to meet Choi Yeonjin comes one in a million!” Gaeul exclaims, then grabs you by the shoulders with a very serious look on her face, as if she wasn’t just disappointed that you sacrificed sleep just to watch a bunch of dramas. “Tell him I’m in love with him. No, wait, I need to tell him that in person. Tell him to wait for me. I’ll get in next time for sure.”

You whine out something that sounds like an agreement. “I haven’t prepared an outfit yet. This is so depressing. Gaeul, help me.”

Taehyun, who doesn’t share any of your unhealthy fixations, still hasn’t crawled out from his state of disappointed concern. “Just make sure you don’t miss your Saturday deadline,” he says. You roll your eyes in response.

“This is me you’re talking to. I may not seem like it, but I have my shit together. You don’t have to worry.”

They hate to admit it, but it’s true.

Your friends have always wondered how you managed to balance your hellish course load, your evening shifts at The Grind, and your hobby of fangirling over pretty and good looking men. The only reason you were able to binge two dramas until daylight is because you’ve finished all your midterm requirements before taking your exams, and you’ll definitely be able to attend the fansign because you’ll somehow finish a thirty-page paper in one day, in between classes and your work shifts.

They’re quite convinced you’re insane. The lifeless look in your eyes as you flit through your flashcards to review for a recitation later is a testament to that insanity.

But sometimes, a little spark of life manages to slip through.

Like right now, as you check a notification in your phone in the middle of reviewing.

“Shit, fuck, shit— oh my god. Yeong-Il dropped an interview, fuck, hold on—”

“Whoa, really?’ Woohyun digs his nose next to you. You guys have a graded recitation in thirty minutes, and you’re walking to the classroom with a blank face zeroed in at your phone screen in landscape instead of the flashcards you have now tossed away into your bag, paying no mind to your surroundings to the point that Gael and Huening have to make sure you’re still walking in the right direction.

Taehyun isn’t sure whether to be impressed or concerned. They can’t even tell you off because they know you’ll somehow find the answers to Prof Yang’s questions anyway.

APPARENTLY, THERE’S A CAR ACCIDENT OUT FRONT. On top of having a tiring day of rehearsals and the interview with Beomgyu exposing his delusions on the internet being dropped earlier (they didn’t edit it out, those rats), Yeong-Il isn’t having a good day, so it’s to no one’s surprise the the tension inside their van on the way back to their dorms is rather palpable.

Beomgyu, however, doesn’t feel said tension. Or maybe he just doesn’t care because he’s closing his eyes, ready to nap while all the rest of the vehicles surrounding theirs are honking their horns, and while Jeongin and Jimin are monitoring the interview on a phone. The part where Beomgyu talks about his alleged first love comes up. “Beomgyu,” Heeseung groans, covering his ears with a neck pillow. “Did you really have to say all that?”

“Ahh, quit nagging. No one’s even taking it seriously,” he grumbles, arms crossed and turning over his body to face the window instead of his bandmates.

“Yeah, people are just raving about how romantic Beomgyu is,” says Jimin.

“And making edits of him and Heeseung,” adds Jeongin. “They’re mistaking your stressed-out glances at Beomgyu as signs of unrequited love—”

Heeseung shoves a hand against Jeongin’s face to shut him up. “Still. You should be more careful of what you say in front of the camera, Gyu.”

“Nyenye. You should be more careful of what you say in front of the camera, Gyu.”

They’re friendly as usual. Heeseung can’t put in the last word because Beomgyu has completely transformed into a sleeping position— yet he can’t seem to sleep and rest despite being absolutely fucked out and tired. He lets out a groan, squirming in the car seat. “Ugh.” The car still isn’t moving. The road is still a mess. All he wants is to rest as soon as possible, and he can’t even have that. All he wants is to see you again as soon as possible, and he’s starting to feel like he can’t have that as well.

Beomgyu gives up. He begrudgingly opens his eyes and looks at the state of the traffic out the window. It’s getting dark. Streetlights are being lit up one after the other, and he watches people moving faster than the frozen cars, like the road and the sidewalk are on two separate spaces of time.

A thought enters his head. What are the chances that you’ll be one of the people walking along the sidewalk right now?

“They’re making way for an ambulance.”

It’s a fruitlessly hopeful thought, he knows. It’s a silly possibility to entertain. But still. He can’t help but examine each of the faces passing by in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, his wish from four-hundred years ago will finally fucking come true.

“Damn, when are we getting home?”

Right when Beomgyu gives up hoping and tries to fall back asleep again, he spots a familiar face walking down the sidewalk. Wait a minute—

“Man, this sucks.”

He jolts up, There’s no way. There’s no way Beomgyu wouldn’t recognize that expression— stone-cold, looking as if the very thing in front of you is a worthless bug waiting to be stepped on, warding away any possible attempts of anyone bothering you. There are no knives in your hands, but a phone and a paper bag. You’re not adorned in the blue, red, white, and gold like he’s used to, but a large coat draped over your shoulders.

Still. Even if your face is covered by a mask, or if you’ve inhabited the body of a completely different person.

“Beomgyu, wanna play are round when we get—”

There’s no way Beomgyu wouldn’t recognize you.

Looks like the chances are high after all.

“Beomgyu?!”

The van door slides open. Beomgyu feels the cold air hitting his face as he rushes in between the gaps of the traffic-saddled cars and the spaces in between. He hears Heeseung and Jeongin and Jimin calling after him but he doesn’t give a shit. Not now. Not when he’s sure he finally has you within reach, closing in the gap between you before you can disappear into a corner. Not when all he has to do is stretch out his hand, breath caught in his throat and heart racing, and pull you by the arm so you can turn around and look at him.

And you do.

Your phone crashes to the ground, and you’re looking at him like you want to punch him in the face. Beomgyu’s heart skips a beat.

“What the hell?!”

“It’s you.”

Beomgyu watches your brows knit together, your mouth falling into a sneer. It’s like looking into a time machine. Holy shit.

“It’s really you.”

That look of annoyance. There’s no denying it. Night has fallen. The only thing illuminating your face is a single streetlight hanging above, but he’d be stupid to mistake you for anyone else. The arm that shakes his hold off is yours. The eyes that are glaring at him— sharp as knives— are yours, yours, and yours alone and he can get lost in them for hours on end. “The fuck? Do I know—”

Your name falls from his lips for the first time in centuries. It’s always been blurry, always at the tip of his tongue the moment his memories from four-hundred years ago came crashing back to him like a storm. But now, it comes off naturally the moment he sees you. It rolls off his tongue like it’s the only thing he was ever meant to sing.

He says your name once more. Your eyes widen in alarm.

“Are you a stalker?”

“I love you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I love you,” he repeats, breathless. “My biggest regret was failing to tell you how much I loved when I still had the chance.”

“What the fuck? What are you—”

Beomgyu reaches out for your hands, tugging you closer. Your skin burns him. Warm. Alive. “Now that I’ve been given that chance, I’m not letting go of you anymore.” He pauses, practicing the words inside his head before saying, “Let’s get married.”

“What?!”

“I love you. I missed you. Let’s get married right now.”

You don’t say anything. You’re silent. Beomgyu feels his stomach wrench and drop and hurt all the way to his chest and lungs because why—

Why are you looking at him like that?

“I’m going to call the fucking cops.” Once again, you shove him off, pulling your hands back and pressing them close to your chest. “There’s a crazy fucking bastard on the— shit! My phone! The screen is cracked, gosh! I haven’t even finished paying for it, for fuck’s sake, you have to— ex—excuse me, are you crying? Are you actually crying? What the hell?”

Beomgu’s vision is cloudy and his cheeks are wet. He knows you’ve always been spunky. You’ve always had an attitude and you two didn’t start off on the right foot, either. But why are you acting like you don’t know him? Like he’s some sort of fucking stranger?

“Hey, I should be the one crying right now! You broke my phone! What is wrong with—”

“There you are!”

Suddenly, he doesn’t see you anymore. Heeseung’s voice comes crashing in and he gets shoved aside, eyes stinging and mind still in a daze. “I’m so, so sorry for my friend over here. We can’t pay for the damages right away, but please take this. Again, we’re so sorry! Hope you have a great night, still!”

No. He can’t let you slip away again. Not when he can finally hold you in his arms like all the countless times he hasn’t. “Dude, what are you doing?!” Heeseung yanks him back before he can run after you down the sidewalk. “Quit being weird. Why the hell are you crying?”

Beomgyu is having a hard time understanding. He’s not sure if he can’t, or if he simply doesn’t want to believe this— but your eyes don’t lie. He can tell if you’re annoyed by him just by looking at you. He can tell if you’re angry, regretful, elated, or drunk from the onslaught of his affections, so this time— he can clearly tell as well.

He can tell just from the look in your eyes that you don’t remember him.

That all those years of waiting for you was all for naught.

SOOBIN KNOWS THAT HE SHOULDN’T BE HERE RIGHT NOW. He knows that he’s supposed to be on a diet, and he knows that he has a photo shoot for a magazine this weekend. He even got rid of his stash of instant ramyeon because of that, deleted all those delivery apps because this’ll be his first schedule after a few months of taking a break.

But he is here, at one in the morning, in between the isles of the 7-Eleven nearest to his apartment building, because cravings sometimes trump rationality, and god he sure is craving for a cup of noodles. Or two. Two sounds good. And since he’s already here, might as well put a pack of milk bread in his basket. A can of Sprite too. Manager Lee is gonna kill him, but at least he’ll die full and satisfied.

“Hey, hold the door open for me.”

“Don’t you have hands?”

“Nice! They have empty seats outside. Waiting here. Buy me some donuts.”

Ah, shit. Soobin pulls his hood over his head and readjusts his mask. Sounds like a group coming in. He should pay later once the store’s emptier— meaning, he has no choice but to browse for more snacks to add to his basket. Totally not because he wants to, no.

“Why’d you bring your laptop all the way here? You can continue working in Woohyung’s apartment.”

“Yeah, girl. There’s still a lot of time before the deadline.”

Soobin doesn’t want to eavesdrop, but the voices are talking pretty loudly. He’s dropping a few packets of yakgwa cookies into his basket while listening to a group of college students mourning about their courses. Good thing he chose not to pursue tertiary education.

“I need to finish this as soon as possible if I want to attend the fucking fansign. Crap, I should’ve switched majors when I had the chance.”

He abruptly stops snack surfing. Wait. Pause. Hold on.

“Should’ve done that before junior year.”

“I know. Shut up. Get me a popsicle, please. Chocolate. Thank you.”

That voice—

“They ran out. Only strawberry or melon. Pick one”

“That’s fucking balls.”

“You’re so eloquent.”

“Suck my fucking dick.”

Okay. Nevermind. It’s kinda weird to hear a voice that sounds eerily similar to the love of his life’s saying so much obscenities. You only spoke pretty words to him before, so maybe he’s just tripping. There’s no way you’d swear so much, so he continues browsing the snack aisle. Maybe he just misses you so much that he’s starting to mistake a similarly sounding voice as yours and subconsciously letting his hopes up.

“Hyun, by the way. I forgot to mention. I met a Choi Beomgyu lookalike last night on the way home from work. It was fucking wild.”

Then again, he thinks, arm paused hovering above a bag of chips. People didn’t really say suck my fucking dick in Joseon era.

Soobin stops filling his basket and starts moving out of the aisle, following the sound of your voice.

“I almost fell in love on the spot, but the guy wasn’t right in the head, I think.” Closer. You’re starting to sound closer. “He knew my name. He kept acting like he knew me and asked me to fucking marry him? I even dropped my phone because he scared the shit out of me. I don’t know, it was wild.”

Where? Where are you?

“Dude, really? No way.”

“I’m serious! I’m telling you—”

Where the hell are you?

“I even got a card from his friend when he dragged the Beomgyu clone away. I have it here, take a loo— wait. Wait. Isn’t BH the agency that manages Yeong-Il? Am I wrong— oh, sorry!”

There you are.

There’s a stain on his hoodie. Bright pink. It matches the popsicle you’re holding, the varsity jacket you’re wearing, and the color painting his cheeks because you’re right in front of him. You’re actually right in front of him right now— face flushed with panic, eyes rapidly blinking. “Are—are you Choi Soobin?” someone says. Not you. You’re still profusely apologizing while trying to wipe away the stain with your jacket sleeve.

“That’s ridiculous, Huening. Go get me some tissues! I’m so, so sorry, oh gosh. I should’ve been paying more attention.”

You’re here. It’s actually you. His heart is racing. He can’t fucking breathe. He’s not sure if he should cry, scream, or all of the above.

But there’s something different. There’s something wrong.

“I can tell Choi Soobin from a picture of his ear! I’m telling you it’s him!” Your attention is pulled away by your companion tugging on your arm. “You’re Choi Soobin, right?! Jipuragi? Figured Obscurity?”

“Dude, you’re making him uncomfortable! Why in the world would Choi Soobin be—”

Soobin pulls down his mask, tugging on its fabric. When you turn back to look at him, your popsicle drops to the ground and you let out a gasp.

Your eyes are shining. You’re beaming. You do recognize him. You do know him.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, I’m such a big fan.”

Just not in the way he was hoping for.

“Y—yeah. Would you like a picture?”

You let out a squeal. So does your friend. This isn’t how Soobin expected his reunion with you to go about. This is wrong. He had it all planned in his head like a screenplay, and all that was left was to execute it without fail.

The moment he sees you, he was supposed to spin you around and hear your laughter fluttering in the air. He was supposed to hold you in his arms and give you the first kiss he’d been saving in this life because he’s been waiting for you all this time, yearning for years and years to give you the life he wasn’t able to in the past. To make up for everything you missed because in this life— there’s no class system to keep you apart. There’s nothing stopping him from loving you out in the open.

He didn’t expect to give you his autograph and take a fan selca with you after years of waiting.

This is so wrong. This is so freaking wrong.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” who he assumes is your friend says, and you’re smiling so, so brightly while looking at the photo of you and him that everything he wishes to say and profess and confess just lodges in his throat, blocking everything in its path.

“Thank you! Don’t worry, we won’t post this anywhere,” you say. Soobin holds back the inhuman urge to tell you why settle for a photo, when you can have him instead?

“S—sure. Anytime.”

“Ah, we should probably give you some privacy now. Huening, stop gawking! Anyway, fighting! We’re looking forward to your upcoming dramas!”

Just like that, you leave. You walk out of the store and join the rest of your friends outside, and he sees you showing off the signature he left on your receipt from the window, when he could give you so much more than that, when you could show off that you already own his entire heart. This...this really isn’t how he wanted to reunite with you. And the underlying reason for it something he doesn’t want to entertain.

“YEONJUN, YOU’RE UP IN TEN,” says a staff member. It’s the last week of promotions, and Yeonjun is getting his hair and makeup retouched one last time before he’s set to go uponstage to open the fansign. His manager tells him not to do anything stupid, or scandalous, or all of the above onstage— an almost everyday reminder that Yeonjun, more often than not, isn’t interested in listening to.

“Noona, you should trust me more,” he reacts, a slight whine in his tone. Manager Kim’s expression is nothing but dubious.

“At the very least warn me before you do something insane so I can prepare.”

“Will do,” Yeonjun grins, and his manager waves him off. Screams erupt the moment he emerges from behind the stage curtains, and everything else just comes naturally for Choi Yeonjun— not needing to second guess when he blows a kiss mid-performance, stirs the crowd with a comment or two, and making sure that all eyes are on him, almost as if he was born on every stage he steps foot on.

And to think he started this career without any desire for stardom.

Now, there’s nothing he desires more than blinding lights and the visceral sounds of cheers.

“A—ah, hello!”

Well. There is one thing.

“Crap, I—I’m so nervous I don’t think I can breathe.”

“Oh no,” replies Yeonjun to the fan sitting before him, marker in hand as he flips open the tabbed page on the nth album splayed out on the table. “Should I give you CPR to help you start breathing again?”

The girl lets out something sort of a squeal. He grins out a laugh and asks for her name and if she’s eaten anything yet.

“Thank you! Oh— oh, wait, one more thing—”

“Next!”

It’s a fast paced rotation. It always is. But Yeonjun uses the split second before the next person carousels in front of him to make a quick scan across the people lining up, across the people waiting in the audience seats, clinging onto the sliver of probability that this may finally be the day where his years of yearning for the ghost of past can finally end— well overdue for god knows how long already.

He reuses and rehashes the same lines, same dialogue, and same greetings for the next person, and the next person, and the next and the next and the next. It’s just one face after another. Not that he’s bored, or unappreciative of the fans that spent their time (and truckloads of money) to see him. But it’s human to feel a sense of disappointment when the face he wants to see doesn't turn up after the fifth, tenth, seventh, hundredth, thousand, nth face, fansign after a fansign.

“Next.”

His wrist is getting sore, back is getting tired, but Yeonjun readies himself for another round of mindless chat, missing the opportunity to do his routine scans when he closes his eyes to roll back his shoulders.

“Oh.”

Yeonjun hears the voice in front of him say. It’s a singular syllable, not even a word, but it’s enough to snap him wide awake.

“Oh my gosh,” you say again. Yeonjun doesn’t feel his fingertips. “You’re even prettier up close, whoa, this is crazy.”

He’s frozen. The usual ments and words and lines that usually flow naturally off his tongue don’t come. His brain is empty. The ink from his marker seeps into the album page underneath his numb hands. He hears his manager say something, but his manager’s voice is so far away— so, so, so far away, but the face he;s been yearning for in his memories is now, all of a sudden and without warning, within an arm’s reach, right before his eyes.

The marker stumbles out of his grasp. If Yeonjun reaches an arm out right now—

“U—uh.”

—he’d be able to touch your face.

“O—oh, holy shit, okay so we’re doing this now.”

And he is. The very feeling of your soft skin, unchanged from the feeling stored in the capsules of his memories, burns stronger than the adrenaline he feels when he’s onstage under the spotlight.

It’s real. You’re real.

You’re right in front of him right now.

“Choi Yeonjun, what the hell are you doing?!”

The hiss of his manager from behind is ignored when he suddenly springs up from behind the table, and you let out a yelp when he drags you up along with him. He’s holding both of your hands, thumbs brushing over the ridges of your knuckles before pulling them closer to his chest. There’s whispering in the background, along with the snaps and flashes of the numerous cameras littered everywhere in the venue.

“Yeonjun.”

He pays no mind to them. Instead he brings up your hands to his face and presses a kiss onto your knuckles.

There’s a scream and gasp and a yell coming from somewhere.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

But all he’s focused on is the swirls in your widened eyes, dizzy and taken aback, voiceless with your mouth hanging open. Yeonjun furrows his brows. “Why don’t you look happy to see me, my love?” You hack out a hard cough and Yeonjun drops your hands in surprise. “What’s— what’s wrong?” he stammers, leaning forward and closing into your face while you turn away from him, digging more unease into his bones because this...this doesn’t seem right.

“Sh—shit, I think I need to sit down, oh my god,” he hears you say, and it hits him. Yes. You were never good at expressing your affection. Yes, yes. Perhaps you’re just overtaken by a surge of emotions, that your appearance looks like that of constipated confusion of trepidation as a result of being overwhelmed by the fact that you’re so in love with him and that you’re happy to see him again.

Yes. That must be it. You’re both sat back down, and he scribbles something on your now ink-stained album. “Next.” And when you’re just about to bow and leave, he says your name— one that he thought he’s forgotten— and you freeze.

“Why do you look so surprised?” he laughs. “There’s no need to be shy. Should I kiss you again to ease your— ack!”

“Next! Next person!”

Suddenly, you’re being scurried away. “No, wait!” he yells out, but the moment he tries to get up again, he’s jerked right back.

His manager is holding the back of his collar, and you’re disappearing into the crowd. Was…was Manager Kim always this strong? He can’t even budge, can’t even run after you after he’d finally been reunited with you again.

“Choi Yeonjun, that’s enough!”

He blinks, remembering belatedly just where he is right now.

There’s still a line of people waiting for him. Yeonjun drops back to his seat, his manager losing her grip on his shirt, and he brings himself back after a round of inhales and exhales. It’s alright, he thinks to himself. It’s gonna work out. “Sorry about that,” he hums, smiling at a now different face sitting in front of him. “What did you tell me your name was?”

You’ve been separated from him yet again, but this time it’s fine. He’s not anxious. He’s certain that it won’t take centuries for you to return to each other, no— it won’t be long until then because this time, he’s not dead.

You’re both still alive at this point in time.

And that enough assures him that he’s going to find his way back to you.

“Next!”

STAR STUDDED BAGGAGE. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

#txt x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #choi soobin x reader #choi yeonjun x reader #tomorrow x together x reader #txt x you #yeonjun x reader #soobin x reader #beomgyu x reader #choi soobin x you #choi beomgyu x you #choi yeonjun x you #txt fluff #txt fanfic #txt imagines #txt scenarios

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pyxaperson · 9 months ago

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I have recently been getting back into TMNT lately and whilst I haven’t caught up with all of the iterations yet, one consistency that I have noticed that keeps fucking me up is that every storyline that depicts the future for the brothers - Donnie always dies.

The Last Ronin comics are a given, considering it’s focused on Mikey’s grief with the death of his whole family - not just Donnie. But this consistency also exists in both RotTMNT and the 2003 iteration.

RotTMNT’s film depicts only Leo and Mikey as the only surviving members of the original family unit - not long before they both pass as well.

Whilst I am not familiar with the 2003 series (plus I don’t want to spoil myself too much), I understand that while Donnie didn’t died in “Same as it Never Was” - the people around still grieve his absence. Him being sent to the future directly caused not only the events of that episode to take place, but the erasure of a future Donnie to begin with; thus leading his brother to believe he died (again, that’s what I am pretty sure is going on).

The only exception to this rule was the 2012 series, and even that is loosely stated. Donnie is the only one to die due to the mutagen bomb. The only reason he was able to survive was due to his mind being connected to Metalhead and even then, he is still technically dead. The Donnie that we watched throughout the series and Donbot are not the same people. Donbot is just Metalhead with a dead teenager’s consciousness uploaded into it.

His survival was due to a lucky alignment of circumstances and despite it, he doesn’t even get to live.

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt donnie #tmnt donatello #tmnt 2012 #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #tmnt 2003 #the last ronin #sorry for that #this has been sitting in my notes for like a year but it hasn't left my mind since then #anyway can you tell which brother is my favourite :]#also yes i am still procrastinating on my assignments

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shijiujun · 1 year ago

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WHY YOU SHOULD WATCH 莲花楼 MYSTERIOUS LOTUS CASEBOOK

Guess I’m back for another rec, you know I’m there when I get minimum two bromance dudes and historical and OOMPH if you liked The Blood of Youth this might be up your lane!! Slightly similar main character premise but super good, the trope never gets old!!

TL;DR

- Stupid disciple + his (unknowing) shifu - Enemy bros “where is my shixiong’s remains?!” + “defeat me and find out” vibes who have to work together and form their deep friendship and get past misunderstanding and mystery blah blah love it - All-powerful legendary swordsman losing all his powers and becoming a legendary physician - Everything is about dead shixiong we don’t even know how the man looks like - Investigations and jianghu shenanigans, cases!!! - Uwu puppy dog and good in martial arts disciple and his sickly, ex-legendary and still cool shifu who doesn’t know he’s a shifu LMAO - Yes uwu bromance, especially cuz shifu is DYING and he is WEAK and he gonna spit out blood and faint everywhere as they find cure for him

-----------

AIRING DEETS

Total episodes: 40

Premiered on: July 23

VIP ends: August 18

Can be watched from iQiyi

Airing schedule: 6 episodes on the first day, 2 episodes everyday after for 6 days, then 8 episodes a week except for the last week, that has 6 episodes with finale

SUMMARY

Ten years ago, Li Xiangyi who was master of Sigu Sect, challenged Di Feisheng, master of the Jinyuan Alliance, to a fight on the seas, where they both end up critically hurt as Li Xiangyi tries to find out where his shixiong’s (Shan Gu Dao) corpse and bones went - his sect was attacked on the same day, and when he returns to the sect, critically injured, he sees some of his deputies blaming him for the attack, and instead of going in, he disappears after that.

Ten years later, Li Xiangyi is now Li Lianhua (Lotus Li LMAO) and he’s an eccentric but skilled doctor who has his eyes on earning money. By chance, he meets Fang Duobing (Fang Many Illness LMAO), a young, aspiring detective who’s super skilled in martial arts, but he’s been unable to enrol in Bai Chuan Yuan (the past Sigu Sect), a sort-of sect that plays an enforcer role in the pugilistic world and helps to solve cases, arrest wrongdoers, and the like. Fang Duobing’s dream is to get in, but as he’s the only son of two powerful people who’ve been refusing to let him be part of Bai Chuan Yuan, he’s failed the test 3 times despite being the most-skilled one there. On his third try, however, he tells the four masters of Bai Chuan Yuan that his shifu is Li Xiangyi, a Li Xiangyi who used to be a part of Bai Chuan Yuan and is still greatly missed by the four masters. They agree to it, but only if FDB solve three cases with arrests.

His first case leads him to meet LXY who’s now known as Li Lianhua, and their meeting doesn’t go off to a great start; FDB is idealistic and a rich, wealthy young master at heart who’s never suffered much hardship, and LLH drugs him after and scolds him for being too trusting of people and being too obvious, going around with two servants. LLH leaves him with parting words, only to meet him again later at the scene of the crime.

They solve cases together from there; LLH is still looking for his shixiong’s body ten years later, and decides to solve cases with FDB as a guise to get closer to the truth, making use of FDB slightly. Later, Di Feisheng recognises him, and the three of them are forced to become allies/friends to uncover a greater conspiracy. The clock is ticking for them as well, as Li Xiangyi was poisoned and injured ten years ago, and was given only ten more years to live. The story begins in the year that he’s meant to die.

*Fang Duobing met Li Xiangyi when he was young and still sickly, and Li Xiangyi encouraged him, and Fang Duobing held onto his every word and suffered a lot to become healthy again and as skilled as he is today, all because Li Xiangyi said those words to him that year ;-;

WHY YOU SHOULD WATCH

(1) Fight scenes are GREAT

- Water water water

- All female sect?!

(2) Bromance, subtle for now, but greater later I assume - ZENG SHUNXI’S FACE HE SO PUPPY BLURBLUR AND SMILING?! AND CHENG YI SMIRKING?! Like Fang Duobing is just wagging his tail and running after a person he doesn’t know is truly his shifu as he claims LOL

(3) Shifu Li Xiangyi not knowing he was shifu to Fang Duobing

(4) Li Xiangyi being the reason for Fang Duobing to EXIST but Li Xiangyi ain’t around anymore (not) and he sad and Li Xiangyi can’t tell him who he is UWUUUU

(5) Familiar faces hehe if you are a SNGX/The Blood of Youth and SHL fan

(6) CASES ARE INTERESTING!!!

#mysterious lotus casebook #莲花楼 #lian hua lou #Zeng shunxi #cdrama #cheng yi #li xiangyi #fang duobing #cdrama rec

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emilynyaesmp · 2 months ago

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Ok so heres my idea for the “does everyone remember the life series or is it just the winners?” Debate/theory

Everyone remembers small bits of the seasons but only the winners and the canary remembers the seasons in their entirety (unless they didn’t die first in a season).

Why does the canary remember it? Well, the watchers feed off of negativity, right? So they’d want the canary to remember that they’ve died first again and again and again, over and over and over again and that this time is no different. So Jimmy remembers past seasons, all except Secret Life because Lizzie was out first.

Speaking of Lizzie, let’s explain her. In her newest episode she mentions “when I invite people to things, they don’t show up”, she mentions Secret Life, she actually talks about her failed birthday party but since neither Scar nor Jimmy even went to it (or heard of it, i think??? Idk I don’t watch their POV’s) they don’t really react, Jimmy, because he wasn’t the canary that season and he CERTAINLY wasn’t a winner and because his seabling’s birthday party was so insignificant to his POV, he doesn’t remember it, Scar, although he remembers SL since he’s a winner now, didn’t even hear of it (if he had I think he’d have gone but idk, correct me if I’m wrong) so he doesn’t react. As for Last Life, Lizzie remembers just as much as a loser would, since she’s not a winner or a canary in Last Life.

Basically, if ur a loser but not the canary, you only remember small glimpses of the past life games. like Lizzie for instance would only remember her teammates in LL, what happened when she was the boogie, the Big-b betrayal, Cleo leaving, basically any big event in her POV, but nothing more. Which is why she says “I feel safe with you guys” around Cleo, because she doesn’t properly remember what Cleo did, she remembers the fire, just vaguely. (Though I think she’d say that anyway, but that might just be my shadowrot shipping mind talking).

This even explains the Flower Husband stuff. Scott’s a winner, the first season, the last one before he won, was 3rd life, the season Jimmy was his husband. He’s attached to that (Jimmy is too guys TRUST 🙏🙏), he knows Jimmy remembers and he wants him to at least acknowledge that they loved eachother, that they were married, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t because it hurts to much to remember, because he’s worried of dying first again, because if he dies first, he’d leave Scott alone again and he doesn’t want that. (Flower husbands is canon guys!! Please!! I’m desperate!!)

Jimmy acts a bit careless this season, dying to a creeper even though like five seconds before he was laughing about how close he was to dying, he didn’t take it seriously, not until then I don’t think. For the rest of that session Jimmy is terrified that he’ll die, he’s paranoid and worries any time anything remotely dangerous comes near him. Before that session, before episode 3, i think Jimmy was completely convinced that the canary curse was gone, he believed it with his whole heart, because, well, last season he came third! Third! That’s the best he’s ever done! And what’s this new season? Wild life, where anything can happen, and they all have six lives, so it’s not like Last Life were he was given 2 lives, this time he has a chance!

Uh, yeah that’s basically my theory/idea. Also, for Cleo, since RL wasn’t a season and just one episode she only remembers the entirety of RL but the other seasons is just what a loser would remember.

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rose-pearls · 11 months ago

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Hi there!! If your requests are still open i’d like to make one, btw Im not very good at requesting, so im sorry if this doesn’t make any sense.

Could your possibly write a Clairrise x Hephaestus’s Nb kid reader. Like we’ll make/repair weapons for her, and we weld her flowers with nuts and bolts and cute stuff like that!!

Feel free to skip this request!! Have a good day/night!!!! :D

Hi!! Thank you so much for your request, it was so cute and I loved the fact that it was a reader from another cabin then the Aphrodite cabin! I hope you like it and that it is what you wanted! My requests are open for every fandom I write for!

Main Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain, @kmc1989

Percy Jackson Taglist: @niktwazny303

Clarisse La Rue Taglist: @peanutbelley, @abbersreads

Non-binary reader, if there is a mistake somewhere please tell me and I'll fix it! I am always open for feedback :))

When you started dating Clarisse a lot of people were surprised, it wasn’t often that a child of Hephaestus and a child of Ares got along, let alone date each other. But it had just made sense when you had met her during your first day of camp. You had tried to find what you were good at, with the help of Luke, and as you were trying to figure out how to use the spear he had given you a beautiful girl had arrived.

“Why don’t you let the expert teach them, Castellan?”, the brown-haired girl says with a confident smirk, making you blush. Luke had just rolled his eyes at the words before telling you that he would get you at the end of the hour to try something new.

“Now, you should watch your grip when you wield it,” she says before starting to show you how to adjust your hands, making your skin tingle at the touch.

It wasn’t until later that you realized why so many people had been watching the two of you, Clarisse wasn’t really the type to help someone out or to be patient with anyone. When your father claimed you after two days of being at camp the whole camp had been waiting with anticipation how Clarisse would be reacting to the news, after all she was a proud daughter of Ares.

“I don’t care about who your father is and what beef he has with mine, Ares always has beef with everyone. So, what do you say of ignoring who our parents are and just moving along?”, Clarisse had seemed unaffected, but she had been preparing the speech in her head since last night, when one of her siblings had told her who your parent was. She was hoping that Ares wouldn’t ruin this for her either, she only knew you for three days, but you were someone she cared about, whether she liked it or not.

“I would love that,” you had told her and after that the two of you had stayed close friends, much to everyone’s shock and your sibling’s dismay.

Getting together with Clarisse had been the most difficult part, she didn’t see love as something good or worthwhile. She had seen her mother getting into depressive episodes after Ares left her to raise Clarisse alone and she didn’t want to ever experience that, let alone be that cause of someone’s pain. It had taken you a while to try and convince her that you could be something more than just friends and that love was something incredible to experience.

“I just don’t want to hurt you or lose you, it would hurt far too much,” she had told you once, when the laughter of the campers could be heard from far away.

“Wouldn’t it hurt more to know that we could have been something but that we just didn’t try? I know that we are demi-gods and that we could die any day but I don’t want to die and regret not having had a chance to spent every single day with you and showing you how much I love you,” there were tears in her eyes at your words, and you could see the conflict in her eyes before she brought you into a soft kiss, as if she was scared she could break you.

“You’re right,” she had whispered before bringing you back into a kiss, this time more fervent as she showed you just how much she loved you.

It had been two years since then and you couldn’t be happier, watching Clarisse spar with her siblings and preparing for Capture the flag while you made some flowers out of a few things you had found around your working area.

“That for me?”, you hear behind you before your feel a soft kiss on your cheek.

“It is,” you tell Clarisse as she sits next to you, watching the intricately woven nuts and bolts you had found around.

“I love it, thank you,” she tells you before bringing you into a kiss.

“I’ll add it to my collection,” she says with a bright smile, already trying to figure out where she was going to put it.

“I’ll see you after capture the flag?”, you ask her, and she nods in agreement as a pout forms on her lips.

“I can’t believe you aren’t going to be playing capture the flag today,” you smile softly at her words before taking her hand in yours.

“Well, I need to teach every single thing I know to my new sibling but next time I’ll be there,” you promise her and enjoy the satisfied smile on Clarisse lips.

“Fine, but I need a good luck kiss first,” she whispers, and you quickly do as she requests, smiling as she deepens the kiss.

“See you later sunshine!”, she tells you before joining her siblings, making you smile as you watch her putting on her armour.

It was just an hour later when you heard the door of your cabin slam open, your new sibling looking scared at the sound, as if he was expecting a monster to come in. But it was Clarisse, tears in her eyes and a broken spear in her hands.

“Why don’t you go to your station and work a little bit on the things I taught you?”, you quickly ask your sibling, who quickly scurries out of the room.

“Clarisse?”, you whisper as you look at her trembling form, she looks like she is desperately holding back her tears but as you carefully put your hand on hers, she breaks down.

The tears are falling down her cheeks as you bring her into a comforting hug, holding her close as she holds on to you for dear life.

“What happened?”, you ask her softly, hoping not to make her cry even more at your words.

“That new kid, he broke my spear,” she whispers, and a sob leaves her lips at the words, making you hold her tightly.

“Gods, I’m so sorry Clarise, I know how much it meant to you,” you whisper in her hair, wishing you could go back in time and save it.

“It was the only thing he ever gave me, to show me he cared and now it is gone,” she says, tears falling into your t-shirt, but you don’t care as you try to calm her down.

It takes a moment to calm her down, stroking her hair and letting her talk it all out. You know better than to say it was going to be okay, she had just lost something incredibly valuable to her and you didn’t know what to do.

“I can try to fix it,” you whisper softly, and it takes a few seconds before she moves her head to look at you, teary eyes looking into yours.

“You can?”, she whispers, hope appearing into her eyes, and you smile lovingly at her.

“I can try, I can’t promise anything about it still being able to burn someone, but it can be repaired. Nothing is too broken to be fixed,” you tell her, and she takes a deep breath, like she is trying to get herself back together.

“If you can do that, I think that I will marry you,” she says with an emotional smile, and you laugh softly at her words.

“Common let’s see what we can do,” you whisper before taking her hand and bringing her to your station.

It takes time to put it back together, as the metal had been broken by Percy’s sword but after finding the right metal to fix it you manage to bring the two pieces back together.

“And there we go, nearly as good as before,” you tell her as she looks over the spear, watching how it was once again a whole spear and not two broken parts.

“Thank you,” she whispers with concealed tears in her eyes, but you just shrug your shoulders.

“It was my pleasure, now I can watch you train with it again,” you tell her, and she looks excited at the words, she kisses you lovingly on the lips before dragging you to the training ground, an excited smile on her lips.

#percy jackson x reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x you #clarisse pjo #clarrise la rue #clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue fluff #clarisse x reader #nonbinary

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cookie-waffle-art-and-stuff · 28 days ago

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Voyagers Chapter 4: Troubled Minds

Rung realizes he may be a bit too overworked on The Ark

Content Warnings: Topics regarding mental illness and trauma

Prominent Characters: Elita One, Rung, Bumblebee, Windblade, Red Alert, Starscream

Elita One sat stiffly on Rung’s couch, her face in her hand, not saying anything.

“If you’ll allow me, Madame,” Rung began gently, “I could start if you’re finding yourself unable to.”

Elita ex-vented, dragging her palm over her optics. “Go ahead.”

Rung adjusted his posture. “Very well, then,” the doctor started. “Do you have a clear memory of what happened last week?”

Elita’s gaze dropped to the floor. “It’s fuzzy… I just know that my behavior was unacceptable.”

Rung nodded. “Acknowledgement is a good first step. Not everyone is as introspective.”

Elita sat up slightly, rubbing the side of her sore right upper arm. It had been welded back on, but still needed to heal internally. It had to be in a sling for a few weeks. She looked to the side, avoiding the other bot’s optics.

“Can you remember what triggered the episode? You don’t have to answer if you can’t, but it might help me get a better understanding of the incident.”

A bitter laugh escaped her. “What didn't set me off?”

Rung lowered his notepad and looked at Elita. “Could you elaborate?”

Elita sighed. She took a long pause, deciding if she wanted to answer or not. “I felt… Like I was in the same damn place I was back at home.” Elita stood up and began pacing around the room. “Ironhide isn’t the first friend I’ve had to watch die on a hospital bed. Nor is it the first time I’ve had to comfort a loved one while doing so. And every time I see Chromia…” Elita halted mid-step, “Whenever I look at her I just.. I see myself. And when I look at Ironhide I think of when Optimus was critically wounded by Megatron and I- “She sighed again, “I’m being selfish, I know. I need to be focusing on being there for Chromia and my kids, not on my past woes…” She sat back down on the couch, landing a bit too hard. She grabbed her arm and winced in pain from the mild impact.

Rung scooted over a little closer to his client. “You’re not selfish. You’re just a person like the rest of us are. And a lot— I’d even dare to claim all —of us, are deeply traumatized people. Be easier on yourself.”

“Still not an excuse for my behavior.”

“Do you think there was any one specific thing that might have triggered a PTSD episode?”

“No… Well, maybe it was just the sight of Starscream and his stupid smug face.” Her brows furrowed at the thought of the former high-rank Decepticon. “Why does he defend them?”

“Come again?” Rung adjusted his glasses.

“Optimus! After all, we’ve been through, after all that animals like Starscream and Megatron did to us!” Elita’s optics glowed brighter as she continued “Don’t get me wrong, Rung. There are many well-reformed ex-cons on the fleet. But some people can’t just… UGH! Who shouldn’t be offered any kindness from us? It’s like Oppie can’t even remember what has happened in the past several billion cycles! I don’t get it! Why does he have to be so relentlessly forgiving? WHY is he allowing Starscream to run loose on the ship and letting Mebatrom just waltz on in whenever he wants?! He didn’t even take my side when our own kid started dating Deadlock!”

“Drift.”

“What?”

“His name Is Drift, now.”

Elita squinted her optics. “Right…”

“Apologies for interrupting.”

Elita rubbed her hand against her face. “look, Rung, I know Dead- ugh, DRIFT is a lot more well-mannered than someone of the likes of Starscream. But it doesn't matter how much he tries to repent. Doesn’t matter how often he meditates or how spiritual he’s become. It doesn’t even matter if he feels genuine remorse! He still has more blood on his hands than most of us do. I mean, is Hot Rod even aware of how many people he’s harmed?”

“Oh, he knows.”

“There’s no way he knows.”

“Elita, trust me, he knows. And he certainly knows a lot more about Drift than either of us do.”

Elita leaned back in her seat and let another long vent. “Shit… He’s just like his father, isn’t he?” She sat there for a few moments, looking down at her legs, saying nothing.

“Elita One? Are you alright?”

“……No.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

Rung could see her free hand gripping her thigh. “Are you certain, madame?”

Her shoulders began to shake as she tried and failed to choke back on her tears. She covered her face with her hand, turning away.

Rung brought the chair in closer. “Hey, hey, it’s okay to cry. If there’s anyone you don’t need to hide your tears from, it’s me.” He reached out a hand, but she didn’t take it.

“I miss him.” Her voice cracked, barely a whisper.

“Optimus, I take it?”

Elita silently nodded, wiping tears away from her optics.

Rung leaned back in his seat, thinking of what to say next. He wasn’t trained as a relationship counselor, but neither was anyone else in the fleet. “Elita, no one comes out of a merge break unscathed. It causes permanent physical damage to your spark. Your tears are more than justified. Never having been part of a merge myself, I can’t even begin to imagine-”

“We’re still merged.”

“You are?”

“Of course we are. We’ve been merged for the majority of our lives. We are bonded for life. Even if we tried to break the merge, we’ve done it too many times. We have far too much of each other’s sparks in our chests to break without killing each other in the process.”

“Wait, so, You two are split up… but still merged? Elita, you do know that-”

“YES, I know!” Elita blurted out louder than she intended. “I can’t even hear the sound of his voice without my spark practically trying to leap out of my chest to join his!”

“And you also know that it’s going to get worse.”

“Yes… I miss him every day of my life.” She looked at her injured arm. “I know he’s probably feeling it too, but, we can’t merge again. We’ve grown too far apart.”

Merge breaks were potentially deadly, but there was at least a chance for survival. But unsuccessful merges were always fatal, hence why very few conjunx endures attempted to merge.

Merging was Primus’s gift to Prima and Megatronus, two of the original 13 primes. The Allspark said to hold a piece of Primus himself’s spark, was what gave Transformers the ability to create offspring without the well. But one Transformer’s spark was not powerful enough to create another without killing the parent. There needed to be at least two. The more people who are a part of the merge, the stronger the resulting offspring will be.

Spark merging was exactly what it sounded like it was. Two or more transformer sparks temporarily merge into one. For a few moments, the merged become the same person. Sharing all thoughts, emotions, and memories. Afterward, much of it fades away like a dream. But each merge results in leaving a little bit of you in your partner’s spark chamber. Legend says, that if you merge enough times your bodies combine permanently. But no Transformer has been able to prove that as true.

Elita and Optimus merged a few cycles after the war had started. Both knew it was a horrible idea at the time, but the spark doesn’t always ask for permission. Sometimes the merge just happens accidentally while interfacing. To create new life, it couldn’t just be one merge. It was a very complicated process that involved both recreation interfacing and spark merging. Elita and Optimus had planned to have a sparkling after the war, but they never got the chance to. Sometimes, Elita allowed her mind to wonder what their child would have looked like. She missed having children, but both she and Optimus refused to bring a new spark into a world that may not have even been there by the time they grew up.

Rung was genuinely at a loss for words. He desperately wanted to offer advice, but even he wasn’t sure how he’d handle the situation if he were in Elita One’s place. But alas, he tried his best. “If you don't mind me asking, how is your relationship with Hot Rod, currently?”

Elita let out a groan. “I think he’s still angry at me. I also think he’s been deliberately avoiding having to see or speak to me.”

“And why do you think that might be?”

“He knows I don’t want him around Drift.” She began absently fidgeting with one of her antennae, “I know he’s far more than old enough to be making his own decisions. And I know he’s confident about Dea-Drift being reformed. But dammit, that’s my KID! How could I just smile and nod while watching him put all his love and trust into someone with a past like Drift’s!”

Rung took off his glasses and removed a cloth from his storage space to clean them. “Correct me if I’m out of line here Elita… but have you ever considered trying to get to know Drift yourself?”

“Hah! I'd sooner adopt a scraplet!”

“I’m serious. You should consider it. It may ease the tension between you and Hot Rod. And hey, if you find some current dirt on him, you’d have the satisfaction of proving your point.”

“That’s one of the things I’m afraid of. I’m already on bad terms with Roddy, the last thing I want to do is be the one to break his spark. I can’t always be the bad guy here!”

“Elita, I’m going to be honest with you. We live a VERY long time. We’ve all been through more pain than we can measure. The one thing keeping all of us sane, and therefore alive, is family and camaraderie. We need to fight for the people we have in our lives now before we end up having to spend the rest of our long, painful lives without them. And I think it would be a great benefit to you and Hot Rod to have you both here, but he would have to agree to come along.”

Elita stopped for a moment to think. “Maybe I’ll have civil a chat with Drift… but I doubt Roddy will agree to come to therapy,” she murmured.

“That’s fine. Perhaps you may even start to understand Prime’s view on things a bit more.” Rung gently set his glasses back on, pushing them in with his index finger.

Elita turned sharply, antennae twitching. “The only way I’m ever going to understand Oppie’s reasoning for being so easy on dangerous ex-cons is if I merged with him again. And like I said, the resentment that has grown between us— It’s too risky.”

“Then maybe…” Rung tried to sound like he knew what he was talking about. “Maybe you could try to start over instead? I think what you have in mind is jumping back into the relationship right where you two left off. But lovers don’t always work out that way. Sometimes, starting over slowly is the best way to rebuild a relationship with an ex-conjunx.”

Elita waited another moment, then stood up and began pacing around again.

“Elita One?”

She stopped pacing, biting the tips of her fingers. “I doubt he’d ever want me back. Especially not after what happened the other day. And even before that, the last time we had a real conversation we had…”She hesitated, looking away. “It was not long after the war ended. An argument. A bad one. Intense argument over Megatron.”

“The war ending is what caused you to split?”

“not entirely,” Elita said quickly. “At first I was elated, Just like everyone else. But then Oppie wouldn’t tell me why. And then he started visiting Megatron in prison. I was just so FRUSTRATED with him suddenly not telling me anything! And when we discovered the supernova, that’s when it happened. The argument, I mean. He wouldn’t stop INISITING that Megatron was a reformed bot and that we should let him on the fleet instead of just executing him.”

Rung tilted his head.“Hasn’t Optimus always been highly against executions?”

“OF COURSE! But it’s MEGATRON. There is not a shred of doubt in my mind that he is taking advantage of Oppie’s forgiving nature, and has somehow convinced my sparkmate that D-16 is still in there somewhere!”

“Elita,” Rung said carefully, “Megatron is also my client. I can’t delve into personal patient information, and I won’t claim to understand everything that goes on in his mind, but I can tell you that he’s trying. I can see it He’s trying as hard as he can.”

“Then he’s lying to you, too. Do you honestly think he’s not just going to shoot Oppie in the back and try to take over Theta-3 the moment we land?”

“And do YOU honestly think Megatron would even attempt to do that when Autobots and Nuetrals greatly outnumber the surviving Decepticons? He doesn’t even have his fusion canon anymore. He left it back on-.” He slapped a hand over his mouth, optics widening. “Scrap… I wasn’t supposed to share that information.”

“What did you just say?”

“I wasn’t supposed to “

“He left his fusion canon back on Cybertron?!”

Rung shut his optics, slapping his palm against his forehead. “Uuugh…. Yes. But do NOT tell anyone else!”

Elita Blinked. “I had always assumed he at least wore it on the Nemesis…”

Megatron’s fusion canon might as well have been permanently welded onto his arm. He never went anywhere without that thing. He even slept with it on. And if rumors were true, he didn’t take it off while interfacing either.

Elita’s optics darted around the floor, processing the new information. “But why would he leave it?”

“He wasn’t lying about his vow against violence.” Rung explained gently. “I completely understand your anger and resentment towards him, but I think his actions have been speaking louder than his words. He never wants to see that canon again in his life.”

Elita sank back down into her seat, her expression torn. Again, she didn’t speak for several moments. Rung gave her time to think. She rubbed the back of her neck. “I…. forget it—“

“Come again, Madame?”

“Oppie… I want to trust his judgment so badly but—“ her optics flared in frustration. “I DON’T KNOW!” She grabbed one of her antennae, tugging at it as she fought back the threat of tears.

Rung offered his hand again, this time she took it. “I can’t tell you what to do, Elita. But I can see that you still care for him. Who’s to say he doesn’t miss you just as much?”

Elita looked at her arm, gently placing her hand over the injury. “It was… it was just so easy for him to cut it off… No hesitation.”

“And you think that hasn’t been tearing him up inside ever since? You know him better than any of us, Elita.”

“I suppose…” She vented.

“Bonded for life, remember?”

She managed a weak laugh “I do still feel bad for throwing him.” She got up for a final time. “I should go apologize… Right now.”

“While I admire your determination, you still have a day left to spend in psychiatric care. Just be patient, we still have at least 10 cycles to go on this ride, he’ll still be there when you get out.”

“I hope you’re right about him, Rung. I want to believe you so badly.”

He wanted to say “I hope I am, too.” but decided it was unwise. Instead, he just nodded.

“Well Elita, I’m glad I got the chance to speak with you. But I’m afraid our time is almost up, and my next client should be coming in soon.”

“I understand. Thank you, Rung. Truly.”

Rung reached out to shake her hand but was surprised with a hug instead. “Oh!” He awkwardly patted her on the back. “Um… Thank you!”

When she let go of Rung, she wiped away one last tear before saying her final goodbye. Once outside the office, she was supposed to go back to psych care with Chase. She hated having to be supervised like a child, but she knew it was a temporary policy for psych patients were were in care due to violent behavior. Chase was only doing his job.

But Elita found herself distracted once she spotted Bumblebee waiting outside for his appointment.

“Hello, Little Bee.” she knelt and welcomed him into a hug. They pressed their foreheads together. “I’m so, so sorry about what I did, Little Bee. I must have worried you sick!”

Bee took his mother’s hands into his own. “I’m not angry at you, just worried. We all are— especially Dad.”

Chase walked up from behind Elita. “Ma’am, it’s time to go.”

“Just give us a moment, please.”

“Elita-“

Bumblebee separated from Elita and then placed himself between her and Chase. His horns curled back and his door wings raised as a warning. The hole in his neck vibrated with a low growl.

“Woah there, little guy!” Chase raised his hands. “I’m not going to harm her.”

Bumblebee stared the officer down, juking forward at him.

“Bumblebee! What has gotten into you?”

Bee lowered his wings and looked back at Elita, frowning with his big blue optics dimmed.

“I’m sorry, Chase.”She stepped between him and Bee. “He’s just being protective.” She turned back to Bee and gently caressed his crest. “I’ll be alright, Little Bee. Chase is only following policy.”

Bumblebee sheepishly looked at Chase. He mouthed the words, “I’m sorry…” before running into Rung’s office.

Rung saw his client rush in, “Woah, Bee, what’s the rush?”

Bumblebee lightly shook his head, signifying a, “Nothing”

Rung looked behind the small mech. “Where’s Optimus? Could he not make it?”

Bumblebee shook his head again, horns curled down.

“That’s alright. We can take this as slowly as you need. We don’t even have to discuss your experience today if you can’t do it.”

“Thank you…” Bee mouthed.

“Very well. Is there anything else on your mind that you want to talk about?”

Bumblebee’s horns slightly perked back up. He took Rung’s hands. “Well, Windblade is back on the Ark…”

Rung’s big eyebrows raised. “Ah! Thought I saw her pass by me in the halls the other day. How have you two been?”

Bumblebee looked down, his optics glowing slightly brighter, “Well, we’ve been hanging out a lot…”

Rung leaned forward, smiling. “Aaand?”

“I haven’t told her yet— It almost slipped out while we were drinking together last night, but I chickened out again. I’m not sure I can do this, Rung. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before…”

“Oh, Bee,” Rung said softly.

“I know you said I should give it a shot but, haven’t been the same since…” Bumblebee took a deep vent. “Since the injury.” He paused and looked at the stars outside of Rung’s window. “When we first met, it was at a victory celebration where I was singing in a gig with Jazz, Blaster, and the cassettes. She said she loved my voice… And when I first spoke to her, I made her laugh. A lot. She loved my jokes…” He closed his optics and dropped his head. “But now… I’m angrier. Always, frustrated, always in pain. I’m always running on low power because I have nightmares whenever I try to recharge. Maybe if I had realized how I felt much, much sooner, I would have had a chance. But now-“

“Bumblebee, you are the same person as before. You’re traumatized, and I’m certain Windblade is wise enough to understand what trauma does to someone.”

Bumblebee looked back out the window. “Maybe you have a point… She’s also had her share of scarring memories during the war after all.”

“Look around you. Trauma may have changed you, yes. But you are still loved. I’m not sure there’s even anyone else on the Ark that has as many friends as you, Bee.”

Bumblebee turned and looked back at Rung. “I really love her, Rung. But I’m so scared.”

Rung gave his client’s hands a comforting squeeze. “Loving someone that deeply is extremely rare. I’m several vorns older than you are, and even I have yet to meet someone I feel that way about. Even if she says no, I truly think it’s worth a shot.”

Bumblebee took a deep vent, his optics dimming briefly before glowing steadily again. “You really think so?”

“I do.”

Bee leaned back into his seat, letting go of Rung’s hands. He thought for a while, then nodded, a light smile appearing on his face.

The rest of the session was uneventful, but Rung did give Bee a prescription for sleep-aiding medication. “These are in extremely low supply, and a lot of bots need it. Don’t take any more than your prescribed dose, because you won’t get an early refill.”

Bumblebee gave an acknowledging nod.

Rung patted Bee’s shoulder on his was out. “Good luck, Bumblebee. And whatever happens, you can always come talk to me.” He lowered his voice to a light whisper. “I’ll even let you in when I’m off work.”

Bumblebee smiled, then gave Rung his second hug that day, this one being a lot tighter.

“Haha, Th-thank you Bee.”

Bumblebee was the last scheduled appointment Rung had that day. Now he was open for walk-ins. He took the opportunity to take a break and brew himself a cup of energeon tea. He was just about to pour in his sweetener when a red, white, and black mech forced the door open, ran in, and started yelling incoherently.

“HE IS HERE. HE IS HERE AND HE HAS FOUND US AND WE SHALL BE CONSUMED BY HIS LUST FOR AGONY!!!!!!!!”

“Woah, woah, WOAH! Hey!” Rung backed up. “Red Alert! Let’s try to settle down!”

“HE SHALL PUNISH US FOR ATTEMPTING TO ESCAPE OUR FATE! I KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN AND NOBODY BELIEVED ME!!!!!!”

“How about we just sit down, and you can tell me all about it. And….” Rung looked around the room. “Where is your supervisor?”

“THEY WOULDN’T LISTEN!!! I SAW HIM! I SAW HIM AMONGST THE STARS!!!!!”

Rung pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh, jeez— Alright just sit down, Red Alert. I’ll listen to you.”

“Yes! Thank you, Doctor! Thank you!” Red Alert aggressively shook Rung’s hand with both of his, nearly lifting the much smaller mech off the ground.

Red Alert cautiously sat down on the couch, optics fixated on the window. Rung sat down across from him.

“What’s the matter, mate?”

“UNICRON, GOD OF CHAOS AND CONSUMER OF WORLDS SHALL REIN HIS VENGEANCE DOWN UPON US!”

Rung blinked, “Inside voices, Red. I can’t understand a thing you’re saying when you’re yelling like that.”

“OH- I’m sorry.”

“That’s much better.” Rung gestured for him to proceed.

Red Alert cleared his throat, “I was looking out the window at the rear of the ship. And I-I-I saw him, Rung! I saw him! Unicron has followed us!” Red Alert was trembling as if he had just witnessed a murder.

“Red Alert—“ Rung sighed, “we’ve been through this. You’re just seeing Shaula from a distance.”

“No, no it’s not like last time! It’s not a star! I saw something MOVE!”

“Red, did you take your medication today?”

Red Alert stiffly shook his head.

“Do you think we should probably go do that?”

“They only make me take them to shut me up!”

Rung shut his optics, rubbing his temples. “We’re trying to look out for you, Red.”

“No, no, not you too! You’re the only one on this ship who listens to me!”

“And I am still listening to you, Red Alert. But you aren’t well right now. Paranoid Personality Disorder makes it difficult to rationalize. The meds you take help you think more clearly and be less frightened.”

“NO NO NO NO NO! HE IS UPON US!!!”

First Aid suddenly stumbled in. “Come on, Red Please don’t make this difficult!”

Red Alert shoved First Aid over as he barreled back out the door. He could be heard outside, transforming and speeding away. Rung leaped up to stop him, but First Aid was too quick to get to his feet and hold out a hand in front of him.

“This is my job, Rung. You stay right there!” The medic transformed inside the office and drove after Red Alert, scraping the inside of Rung’s door frame on the way out.

“Bloody hell…” Rung murmured.

Red Alert was practically a permanent resident in psychiatric care. Always fearful and constantly on suicide watch. He was SUPPOSED to be working as the ship’s security director, which was a job he used to excel at. But the troubled mech was so shaken by the war that it left him in a constant state of paranoia. The voyage had only been worsening the poor bot’s condition.

Rung was able to finally finish preparing his tea. He sat down and began sipping on his drink, trying to take Red Alert off his mind. It wasn’t long before he heard someone knock on his door.

Rung leaned his head back in his seat, exasperated. “Break is in 2 hours.” He reminded himself before calling out to his next client to come in.

A young fembot shyly poked her head through the door frame, the signature Camien tattoos on her face making it clear who it was.

“Windblade! Please,” Rung gestured towards the couch, smiling. “have a seat.”

The Camien jet sat down in the center of the couch, back straight and shoulders tense.

“Saw Bee earlier today. I won’t go into specifics, but he always says good things about you!”

Windblade nervously laughed. “Yea… Bee is great.” She forced an awkward smile, tapping her thighs with her fingers.

“Was there something you wanted to see me for?”

“I’m just… Checking in on my mental status. Always important to keep both mind and body healthy after all!” She gave another awkward laugh.

Rung raised an eyebrow. “You seem a bit tense.”

“Who? Me? Nooooo, I’m fine! Well I mean, I’m not completely FINE. Why would I be here if I was totally fine!” Windblade responded, still smiling.

“Alright… So, what was-“

“I had sex with Starscream.”

Rung nearly spat out his tea. “…………Come again?” He asked, feeling his spark drop to the pit of his fuel processor.”

“AAARGH! I don’t know what I was thinking!” Windblade suddenly raised her voice. “I felt so awful for him after the incident with Elita. His stay in the med bay was extended due to the assault. I went to visit him in his new room, alone.”

“Please— don’t tell me you did it in the medbay.”

Windblade tapped her thumbs together. “No… I snuck him back to my quarters for the night. At first, we were just going to have a few drinks…”

Windblade explained what happened that night;

She had walked Starscream to her quarters, with him still sore from the two previous attacks.

He walked up to her mirror. He hadn’t seen his own reflection since before the first attack. His armor was covered in scratches. The soft alloy that made up his face was scarred and still very sore. “I look like shit.” He huffed.

“You can borrow some of my makeup if you’d like.”

Starscream’s optics widened. “Really? Where is it?”

“First drawer under that mirror.”

“Ooooh!~” Starscream opened the drawer, seeing various containers of face polish and lip paint.

Windblade walked up next to him. “I think you should use the medicated faceplate polish. It won’t irritate the cuts on your face and might help soothe the pain a little.”

Starscream held up a tube of deep red lip paint, smiling at it. “Mind if I borrow this one too?”

Windblade playfully giggled, “Sure, Star!” She took her entire makeup kit out of the drawer and set it down on her window-seal. Then sat on it with Starscream after she brought two pints of low-grade. The lights in the room were off, save for one lamp. This way, they had a clear view of the gorgeous stars and nebulae that painted the black backdrop of the void.

“You know, as much as I hate this goddamn trip-” Starscream started gazing out at the universe as he rubbed polish around his cheek, “I’ll never get tired of this view. Even the clearest nights on Cybertron didn’t look this spectacular.”

Windblade leaned back against the wall with her arms crossed. “Neither did the nights on Caminus.”

“Ah, yes… forgot about that colony.”

“Windblade furrowed her brow” You certainly wouldn’t be the first.

“Sorry about the whole er…. The whole thing about your planet running out of resources and everyone dying… thing.”

Windblade raised an eyebrow at the red seeker and snickered. “You aren’t very practiced at consoling people, are you?”

Starscream half-heartedly shrugged, looking into a hand mirror as he painted his lips. “Oh, I look absolutely delectable in this color!”

“It does look great on you! You can keep it if you want. I have a spare, anyway.”

“Why think you, darling!” Starscream turned his face from side to side, admiring himself in the mirror. His expression changed for a moment.

“Something wrong, Star?”

The seeker slightly narrowed his optics. “Why exactly don’t you hate me just like everyone else?”

Windblade looked into the mech’s optics. “I guess I just figured you needed someone to have your back.”

“I can take care of myself!” Starscream snapped, immediately regretting it and softening his tone, “But, er… thanks for not despising me, I guess…”

Windblade tilted her head. “Can I be honest, Starscream?”

“What is it?”

“I think you have trust issues.”

Starscream gasped, clutching his chassis in mock surprise, “NO, do I?”

Windblade smirked, taking a sip of her drink. “I can’t exactly say I blame you. But I do think you should try to be a bit more open about making friends. It’s not gonna be as easy making it to Theta-3 with your sanity if you spend the entire trip alone. We all need each other right now.”

Starscream creased his eyebrows and batted his optics. “But aren’t WE~ friends?” He lightheartedly exaggerated.

Windblade laughed. “Yeah, I’d say we are.”

They sat in companionable silence for a while, watching the stars. This distance between them seemed to shrink when Starscream slowly turned back and looked into the optics of the other jet. “Windblade…” he started, his voice barely a whisper.

“Yes?” Windblade whispered back.

“Those markings on your face— did you emerge from Caminu’s forge with them?”

“They’re tribal tattoos, actually.”

Starscream softly smiled. “Very interesting! Your pain tolerance must be something to admire.”

“Oh, don’t even REMIND me.” Windblade exaggerated, making Starscream slightly giggle.

“I think they’re beautiful.”

Winblade blushed and bashfully averted her optics. “Th-Thank you!” She mustered up the courage to look back into his optics, softer than she had ever seen them before. “Did you emerge with the black tearstain markings?”

“Yes, and so did my siblings. Faceplate markings are very common in seekers.”

Starscream had thick black markings covering his optic lids, like permanent mascara. Markings known as ‘tear stains’ ran down from his optics to the start of his neck. Markings like this were often considered physically attractive in many cultures.

“You’re very handsome. But I’m guessing you are already aware of that.” Winblade complimented, her spark fluttering.

“I am aware of that, thank you.” Starscream took a long sip of his drink, still looking at the fembot.

The air felt thicker and a subtle scent of pheromones began to emanate from both bot’s bodies. Starscream and Windblade bridged the gap between them, pressing each other lips together. The kiss was far more gentle than Windblade would have expected from Starscream.

Once they pulled apart, both seemed at a loss for words. They stared into each other’s optics for a few moments before going back in for another tender kiss.

Windblade ended her story there, sparing Rung the more intimate details.

“After we— Ahem, did our thing… we lay in bed for a while and shared a joint. He opened up to me a little bit more.” Windblade fiddled with a loose thread on the arm of her chair. “I think there’s a lot more to him than people think.”

Rung shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his one antennae twitching. “……uh-huh.”

“He mentioned he used to be conjunxed with Megatron. Can you believe that? And they were together for a long time, too. I think that relationship really hurt him…” Windblade looked down at her thighs, the memory of Starscream’s lip paint smeared all over them making her blush. “Rung, I know he’s older than me, but I…”

Rung forced a smile, trying to ignore the voice in his mind saying, “Oh good heavens, please don’t say what I think you are going to say, PLEASE.”

“…I think I have deeper feelings for him. But I’ve never had feelings for someone before, so, I’m not sure what to do next. Especially considering who he is…”

Rung’s optics squinted, still forcing a smile. “Oh my god, what have I done? Bumblebee is going to be crushed!” he thought silently to himself.

“I’m also a bit concerned that he won’t want me. I mean, he obviously finds me attractive, but everyone knows he usually prefers larger mechs over fembots.” Her leg restlessly shook, heel tapping on the metal floor. “He said Megatron used to carry him around on his shoulder. Used to call him his Lucky Star… I think Starscream really misses that kind of affection, but I’m not sure I can give it to him. I’m a lot smaller and weaker than Megs, after all.”

Rung scratched the back of his neck. “Well, I don’t think you should rush into things.” He paused for a moment, rubbing his temples. “But I also don’t think it’s useful comparing yourself to someone’s Ex.”

“Yea… Maybe. I guess I’m just nervous about asking him if we could be conjunx enduras, or at least test the waters for a while and see how things go.”

“D-Don’t you think you may be going too fast?”

“Romantic love is so rare in this universe, Rung. I’m not sure I’d want to risk wasting this chance. Would you?”

Rung leaned back, steepling his fingers in thought. “Windblade, it’s perfectly natural to seek romantic connection, especially after facing so much loss. But I think you need to consider what you’d be getting involved with. Starscream, by his own admission, is a rather complex individual. And you can’t enter a healthy relationship based on trying to fix someone who doesn’t want help.”

Windblade frowned, wings dipping slightly. “I’m not trying to fix him. He just…. He just needs someone who believes in him and has his back. I can see that he’s always scared and tries to hide it. He’s spent most of his life being hated and has gone through so much abuse. Nobody else seems to see what I see in him….

Rung slowly nodded. “That’s not a bad start, but are you even sure HE’S ready for a connection like that? The turbulence of his past relationships is not exactly a secret.”

“Uugh! That’s because he was abused in nearly all of his past relationships! He still has chronic pain from his damaged voice box, for Primus's sake!” Windblade snapped. She lowered her voice. “I’m sorry! Sorry… I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“His voice box is damaged? Well, that sure explains a lot. Should’ve been obvious in hindsight.”

“Rung!”

Rung held up his hands a little. “Apologies! That wasn’t appropriate of me.”

Winblade ex-vented. “Look, I get it. Nobody on this fleet likes him. But you’ve personally seen Drift’s reform, as well as Megatron’s of all people. If a monster like Megatron could be a better person— I think… —Then why couldn’t Starscream?”

“Megatron and Drift WANTED help. That’s the difference. Starscream is an extremely stubborn person who refuses help from anyone who offers it. He’s very well known for this.”

“Well then maybe he just hasn’t met anyone who makes him feel safe enough to trust.”

“Windblade…. You can’t fix someone who doesn’t want to be.”

“But- I want to help him. I… I think I’m in love with him. And because of that, I don’t want him to be in pain anymore. I care about him.”

“GOD DAMN IT,” Rung thought to himself, still trying his best to be professional and supportive. He couldn’t lie to his client, she had a few solid points. If Megatron could learn to cope with his issues, then it theoretically should be possible for someone like Starscream. But Rung personally did not have the slightest bit of confidence when it came to that bot. His stubbornness and arrogance were legendary. Rung had also formally diagnosed the seeker with a laundry list of mental illnesses. Narcissistic Personality Disorder, CPTSD, Bipolar Disorder, and whatever the hell else he didn’t have time to test him for. And Primus almighty, was he a combative patient.

Rung gently set his tea aside and clasped his hands together. “I understand. Love is elusive, and you want to bring out the best in him. You’re a good person, Windblade. But I think you need to be approaching this with caution—“

“THE GOD OF CHAOS IS UPON US!!!!! KNEEL AND PRAY THAT PRIMUS HAVE MERCY ON YOUR SPARKS!!!!”

“Oh no.”

“YOU CANNOT ESCAPE YOUR FATES!!!”

“Um… What is going on outside your office?”

“HIS TEETH WILL GRIND OUR METAL INTO DUST AND HIS EYES WILL BURN THROUGH OUR VERY SPARKS!!!!”

Rung let out a long, exasperated sigh, “Red Alert.”

Red Alert forced the door open again and ran in, startling Windblade and causing her to jump out of her seat, wings fully extended.

“It’s okay Windblade! He’s harmless! He’s just confused!”

First Aid stumbled through the door again, this time followed by Ratchet and Jazz.

Jazz attempted to rationalize with Red Alert, “Come on, man. We’re your friends! You’ve known Ratch and me for vorns!”

“You two have just been playing me for a fool all this time and you know it!”

“Red, you’re sick! Please come back, we’ll help you!” Ratchet said.

Rung tried to step in. “Now Red, I know you’re scared and frustrated right now. Being medicated will take that away.”

“Sure! But then it will just come back? Won’t it?! This is the real me, Rung! And I’m not crazy!”

Rung could see First Aid quietly sneaking up behind Red Alert, small syringe in hand. It was the kind used to inject through the neck or a joint. “You’re right, Red. You aren’t crazy, you’re just unwell.”

“JUST SHUT UP, SHUT UP” Red Alert grabbed the sides of his helmet and screamed, curling over on the floor.

Rung, nor anyone else in that room, had ever seen Red Alert get this bad.

Windblade felt obligated to help settle the frantic mech down. She slowly approached him, “Hey, you’re gonna be okay buddy. Everyone here wants to keep you safe.” She knelt next to him.

Ratchet was quick to warn, “Windblade! I know you’re trying to help, but you need to stay back and let us take care of this!” But he said it too late. The moment Windblade placed a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him, his gut reaction was to strike her in self-defense. She was hit directly in the optic and was knocked out. Rung, Ratchet, and Jazz rushed to her side as First Aid used the distraction as an opportunity to jab his syringe right into Red Alert’s neck. The effect was instant, and he passed out. He was unharmed, only having fallen asleep.

First Aid rolled the unconscious Autobot to his back. “I’m so sorry, friend. I didn’t want to do it.” First Aid’s voice cracked.

Rung’s composed demeanor was thrown out the window, “Oh my God! Oh my God- Windblade! Can you hear me?!” He lightly but firmly shook her by the shoulders.

Windblade’s optics were dim and half-open, the injured one was flickering. A little bit of bright pink blood trickled down from it like a tear.

“Shit!” Jazz yelled, “Ratchet, is she gonna be okay?!”

“Everyone get back!” Ratchet pushed Jazz and Rung aside. He knelt next to Windblade. “Jazz, go get more medics while First Aid takes care of Red!”

Jazz left for the medbay without hesitation.

Ratchet took a look at Rung, who was trembling and hyperventilating. “Rung, you look like you’re about to have a panic attack!”

“I-I am having one!”

“Shit— Just go sit down and try to relax, I need space!”

Rung stepped back, his legs threatening to give out from how much they were shaking.

“She isn’t going grey and I can feel her spark beating. She’s alive.”

While Ratchet was trying to take a closer look at Windblade’s damaged optic, a low groan came from her frame to everyone’s immense relief.

“Oh thank heavens!” Rung exclaimed.

Winblade’s optics fluttered open. “Augh! What just happened?”

“You were knocked out. Take it easy.”

“What happened to Red Alert- OH MY GOD! Am I missing an optic?!” She felt around the side of her face that was hit. “I can’t see out of this one!”

“You’re fine!” Ratchet firmly reassured. “It probably just came a little loose. I’ve seen it happen more times than I can remember.”

Her face and the back of her neck were very sore from the impact. Thankfully, the hit wasn’t strong enough to have likely caused serious injury, and it took a lot more than being knocked out to cause real brain damage in a Transformer.

“Hold still, this is going to hurt like a motherfucker.” Ratchet warned Winblade.

“WAIT WHAT ARE- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!”

Within a second, Ratchet had used his thumb to forcibly push her optic fully back into its socket. He released when he felt the ‘click’ from it setting in.

Rung looked away, nearly losing his tea. “Ratchet! Was it REALLY necessary to do that right here?”

“You couldn’t have at least sedated me first?!” Winbladed added, rubbing her optic.

“Sorry— field medic habit. But can you see now?”

“Ugh…” Winblade’s optic blinked open. “It’s blurry but… Yea, I think l so.”

“That’s normal. You’ll be okay, kid.” Ratchet patted Windblade on the back after she sat up.

Jazz and Knockout came back just in time. Ratchet sent Windblade with them to get an optic patch. She wouldn’t need to stay in the hospital, but the optic still needed to be examined in a less chaotic environment.

Ratchet made sure to check on Rung. “You okay, pal?”Rung was still venting heavily. Ratchet held him by the shoulders and rubbed them. “You’re okay, buddy. You’re okay. I think you should take an early break and get some rest.”

“Yea…” Rung took in a deep vent. “Okay... I’ll do that.”

“Need me to get you anything?”

“Plain liquid energon, please.”

Ratchet luckily had a tube of some in his storage compartment. He gave it to Rung, who thanked him. Ratchet stayed with his fellow doctor till he was finished drinking and calmed down.

Rung took Ratchet’s advice and took an early break. He pressed a button on his terminal, changing the sign on his door to read ‘closed’, and list what time he’d be back.

His tea was cold by now, so he quickly drank the rest of it, not wishing to waste the energon. He turned the radio on— anything to help him shake off the lingering anxiety gripping his chest.

The voice of Rewind, who had been substituting for Blaster ever since Iornhide’s suicide attempt, could be heard on the radio. He was saying something or whatnot. Rung wasn’t paying attention, he just needed the background noise.

He set his alarm for an hour and a half before laying down in his bed to take a much-needed nap. It took him about 30 minutes to go into recharge mode, his mind fixated on what he had just seen. He was only able to relax after resorting to his very limited supply of anxiety medication. It was a small tube of liquid that had to be injected into a port on his wrist. It offered near-instant relief.

When he woke up, he didn’t feel very well-rested but knew he didn’t have time to keep recharging. He had slept through his alarm and only had around 20 minutes left of his break.

He turned to his side, reaching for the datapad on his nightstand. He needed to see who his next client was. When he read the next name on the list, he sat up, grabbed a pillow, and screamed into it.

#maccadam #transformers au #transformers fanfic #mtmte rung #oplita #Voyagers #Pesty's fics

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rainbow-sunshine-unicorn · 3 months ago

Note

"While what Violet said was through a haze of grief and trauma, what Anthony heard, at a very vulnerable moment, was that his mother would rather die for her husband than live for her children. And it’s very hard to not take that sort of thing personally."

YES YES EXACTLY like I have all the empathy in the world for Violet as a mom with postpartum depression and just a depressed person in general when Edmund died but at the same time you just told your oldest flat out you have no reason to live for WHEN YOU HAVE EIGHT FUCKING KIDS AND ONE RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU. She just told her son they aren't her air and there is NOTHING left for her in this realm like... that SCARS A PERSON.

dont get me wrong I still enjoy Violet as a character no one is all good all bad but... I would assume that even if Anthony and Violet's relationship becomes less fraught Idk if he would ever get over that no matter how fulfilling his life is now

I think it’s super interesting how Violet is a very loving mother who obviously wants the world for her children yet is a flawed parent in many ways. It shows you that flawed mothers are not necessarily just those who are like Portia but also those like Violet, who are “good” people.

Not that I think Portia and Violet are the exact same, but it’s an interesting juxtaposition, because you may think that both of them are on opposite ends of the parenting spectrum but the closer you look, the more you see, that both of their actions are motivated by wanting to do what’s best for their children and that it is this that lies at the core of a lot of their bigger mistakes as mothers.

Also, I think that her relationship with Anthony was fundamentally changed by him witnessing her raw grief. Though I think the other children, besides Gregory, Hyacinth and perhaps Francesca, were aware of her grief and absence from their lives, and it impacted them in different ways, for example, Daphne singing to Eloise over Violet’s cries, none of them truly felt the weight of it like Anthony. And I think this altered the relationship not only from Anthony’s perspective but from Violet’s perspective.

This character study perfectly articulates exactly what I mean. It summarises Anthony’s character and motivations in such a succinct way, I believe everyone should watch it!!

But throughout season 1, we see her treat him as though he’s Edmund’s replacement falling short rather than her son while simultaneously wanting him to treat her like an authority figure. She demands he arrange something for Daphne with a friend like his father would have, then later, berates him to renege when she considers Simon a better match. Yes Anthony does many things wrong, but he is navigating it from a very lonely place of extreme pressure and absolutely no one to turn to for guidance.

She waffles like this throughout season 2 as well, like insisting that she knows what he wants deep down while also accusing him of thrusting his responsibility upon his siblings, which is simply not true, considering Colin doesn’t even seem to understand the importance of balancing accounts. It’s only in the very last episode of season 2 that she seems to realise how much she has hurt Anthony but even then she apologises for the hurting him while she was grieving and not the way she has treated him subsequently.

I’m going to be honest, I don’t think Anthony will ever go back to being Violet’s oldest child rather than the half limbo state that they are in where he’s the head of the household and she’s his mother but also part of his household. And this is not because of a lack of love on either of their parts or because they are too different. Which is the tragedy of their relationship.

Anyways this is already too long, but Anthony’s last experience of unconditional parental love was when his father died, because the moment he did, in certain ways, he lost that from his mother.

I truly believe that the next time he experiences such unconditional love and affection is from Kate, who sees him at his worst, witnesses him make every mistake and still equally matches his feelings, his love and devotion and desire.

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21loveatfirstsight · 3 months ago

Text

My ted talk about Rio Vidal

Facts that we can’t or won’t deny:

She is the MCU incarnation of Death.

She is Agatha’s ex (wife).

Now let’s talk about her characteristics and behavior in Agatha All Along.

Episode 1: She shows nothing but love for Agatha when she “visits”.

We now know that Agatha gets a different version of what people say to her, or sometimes none at all or people stays silent but she gets a response in her version, only dialogue with pure, strong emotions come through; so maybe all of Rio’s dialogues are not completely what it seems. I assume all the dialogues about the case is the spelled version, or Agatha self-inserted dialogues to keep her in the “detective” persona; so let’s talk about some that seems out of place or have double meaning, because I think some of it actually get through the spell:

If you want to be in control, you can be + Is this really how you see yourself? Rio is showing support, encouragement, or at least that is how Agatha interprets it.

That’s not why I came over. I think this line got changed a bit to fit the scenario, but it still carries some of Rio’s intention, which is to break Agatha out of Wanda’s spell (to kill, marry, kiss her).

Do you remember why you hate me? This line may get delivered in a different tone in reality (Rio laughing, mockingly says it maybe).

Are you hiding evidence + Well, you’re only lying to yourself. This seems out of place. The reality version could be: are you hiding something from me (thought? Sus af).

These out of place lines show Rio caring about Agatha, or it could mean that’s how Agatha interprets Rio. Nonetheless, if they decided to show Rio’s pov, I will get back to this.

There’s nothing that needs to be said about the morgue scene, except maybe Rio stays and watches her ex-wife put on a show for her, lmao (I need someone to draw her making money rain as Agatha distressingly get out of the spell).

I suspect the painting has something to do with their past. I will wait for more information.

Yes, I know she came at Agatha all stabby stabby after Agatha woke up, but let’s be honest, that could just be how Death expresses love. And her words in this conversation also shows caring and love, it’s only Agatha expressed hatred toward her.

Also, I rewatched episode 1 and now just realize Billy witness all that domestic chaos bet them, yikes (kinda feel lucky that he can’t read their mind, because damn, that’ll definitely be something).

Episode 4: This is the episode that explores their dynamic the most.

Agatha knew Rio doesn’t belong in the coven, she can’t be part of any coven. But to show up in front of her now, she looks extremely angry and upset at Rio.

In the trials, apart from Agatha tricking Rio into saying “get my bodies”, I found 2 interesting exchanges between them.

Agatha told Rio “No”. She knows Rio’s identity, so I think she thinks Rio is here to collect someone’s soul (at the time, it’s “Teen” who she suspects being Nicholas).

Agatha told Rio “You’re too early”. Given the new trailer having Alice look alive and well, with that dialogue, maybe witches won’t die within the trials, everyone will come back at the ends or the last trial and that’s when things go batshit crazy and Lady Death comes to collect “her bodies” (could possible that’s how Agatha and Rio met too).

Now, let’s talk about the moment Billy is injured.

Agatha is panicked and upset, and she is showing it. When she told Rio “Don’t” (take him away again!), Rio changes from silently watching the witches fussing to slightly surprised, and then her eyes look down at Billy, look at Agatha like she is thinking something. She knows who Billy is, and now with how Agatha behaves, she knows Agatha actually thinks he’s Nicholas and cares about him. That can’t be good. So now she has to do what she hates: hurt Agatha, aka telling her the truth, which is like taking Nicholas from Agatha all over again. And what annoying the most is that she is the only one knowing and Agatha will trust with that kind of information.

There is nothing needed to explore about the “She’s my scar” scene, lol. So let’s dissect the hug scene. That hug is Agatha expresses her gratitude to Rio (for not taking her son), Rio takes a moment to enjoy it but she has to stop at the almost-kiss. Because she knows, if they kissed, Agatha will hate her more after she knows Billy’s identity. Better to rip off that band-aid early, right? Rio’s face after is showing that she still dislikes it though.

Episode 5: She is at her best, chaotic evil entity who is in love with Agatha.

I mean, she really enjoys Agatha’s trial at first, because she likes to see strangers trying to torture Agatha (like they possibly can anyway, lol). But the moment Evanora shows up, her demeanor changes. Yes, strangers can hurt Agatha, because they can barely scrape the surface even if they throw everything they have in. And Agatha can do what she does best, trick them into handling over their power, and Rio gets the bodies. Not to mention Rio can see Agatha’s emotions if those witches can poke through the bear (their relationship is so poisoned, i love it). But not the MIL, because Agatha will actually become vulnerable, which Rio won’t absolutely allow. Because that will hit Agatha deep, and that will make her fall, and Rio will lose her.

Also there is a small scene where Agatha climbs out of the trial, Rio’s look and music is kinda strange. Let’s wait to see what they will show us.

I won’t look past how Rio mysteriously disappears whenever the coven is in crisis, maybe being Death, she can’t intervene with what decides the fate of the coven.

#agatha all along #rio vidal #agatha harkness #billy maximoff #agathario #agatha x rio

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chamoemileclown · 3 months ago

Note

What’s parkour civilization? I feel like I’ve never heard it before this week, but everyone’s making art of it rn. Did I miss something???

Parkour Civilization or pkc is something that gained a lot of traction on twitter sometime around the end of last week (maybe like october 2nd or 3rd i’d like to say) and it’s sort of spreading to here so here’s a really quick run down on pkc and some discussion on why its super popular all of a sudden. vv

Parkour Civilization is a series of minecraft roleplay videos by Youtuber @/Evbo that were originally released in 10-15 minute segments but later compiled as longer videos on his channel.

The series is about Evbo living in a world where everything he has to do is parkour related. If he wants a house he has to do parkour tricks, if he wants food he has to jump for it, if he wants to better his life and level up from a parkour noob to a parkour pro he has to do a parkour course. To add some risk it all happens over the void so there’s always some risk Evbo could fall and die at any time.

It’s not crazy special story wise and the series doesn’t treat itself seriously. It knows it’s a silly premise and I think that’s why a lot of people like it. I’m sick right now and I watched it because it was something fun to watch while I couldn’t do much else and by not being too serious it made me not expect certain things from it. If any of this sounds interesting id recommend giving it a watch.

I think it blew up like it did because of the intro of the first episode was a good hook for what pkc is. Evbo is given a choice between a hard parkour jump for some raw beef or an easy jump for raw chicken. Evbo goes on to say nobody jumps for the beef because it’s really not worth the risk and then watches his one remaining neighbor jump for it and fail, jumping into the void.

It right off the bat introduces you to the world and its mechanics and sets up a silly tone. It’s a format people can easily apply to a bunch of different memes/ their favorite media. It’s something you can easily reference and even if you don’t know the source material you can understand the concept.

pkc had viewers even before it blew up but a lot of the memes drew in new viewers which spawned in fanart which brings in even more viewers and that’s why it may seem like it came out of the blue.

I’m sort of hoping this is the new wave of minecraft content since we really haven’t had anything like this since 2020 and I think we’re overdue for a new era. A lot of people (including myself) thought this would come with the qsmp last year but I think it’s good that we’re getting some fresh faces in the mcyt ecosystem.

Here’s Evbo’s channel if you are interested, he’s currently working on a pvp civilization series which i haven’t really checked out yet but I hope to see more cool stuff out of him.

#thanks for letting me talk about this #pkciv #pkc #parkour civilization #moerambles #moe rambles #moe asks #moeasks

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bugrry · 2 years ago

Text

you're the thing that's crystal clear

hbo!joel miller x fem!reader

hello lovebugs!!

a/n: after thirteen months of no new writing, the inspiration bug finally bit me again! please please please let me know what you think! hopefully i'll have more works coming out in the next few months, fingers crossed! :EDIT: at first i'd had it written that it was a gn reader, forgetting that i'd used she/her pronouns for the reader. so sorry!

in this fic there are spoilers for episode six of the last of us AND i have not played the game, so if there are any inaccuracies, sorry!

tags/warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, reader and joel reuniting (let me know if i missed/forgot about anything!)

word count: 3,105

part two

Joel and Ellie had been at the commune for three whole hours before Joel can bring himself to ask about you.

“Where is she?” Joel finally asks as the four of them sit together and enjoy their meal. Tommy sighs, as though he’d been waiting for Joel to ask the question. He probably had been.

“I don’t know, Joel,” Tommy grunted, piercing the last morsel on his plate with his fork.

“You said she came here with you,” Joel grumbles, his voice just above a whisper.

“I also said she didn’t want to talk to you,” Tommy responds, swallowing and standing. He grabs his and Maria’s plate once she indicates that she’s done eating. Tommy moves to go to the kitchen, and Joel is following close behind him.

“So she’s here.” He tries to hide the desperation in his voice, but he doesn’t think he was all that convincing. He also doesn’t think he really cares.

Tommy turns to him, almost snatching Joel’s plate out of his hands. “I’ll tell her you’re here. Let her decide what to do about it. Don’t you dare go lookin’ for her.”

Joel sighs as he watches Tommy walk away from him, and he decides that he’s going to explore the rest of the commune. He eventually finds himself alone, sitting at a bar in an empty restaurant, thinking about the last time he saw you.

Three Years Ago

“Joel please!” You begged from where you stood with your half-packed backpack.

“No. I’m not joinin’ those Firefly fucks.” He stood tall and intimidating in front of you, almost like he was going to physically stop you from leaving.

“Even if I have to go?” You said sharply, turning to grab another essential from your small cabinet.

“You don’t have to go.” Joel almost scoffed.

“I’ll die if I stay here.”

“I’ll protect you!” Joel’s hands flew out from where they’d been at his sides. You flinched at the movement and the sudden change in his tone.

“You can’t. Not from this.” You mumbled, just barely loud enough for him to hear.

“From what?!” He continued to speak harshly, and you had to push through the instinct to just shut down.

You dropped what you’d been holding, pressing the palms of your hands into the edge of the counter.

“From myself!” You took a deep breath and finally turned to face him. “I am rotting here, Joel. I need to get out. For good.”

You had tried so hard to find a purpose here, with him, but every passing day only convinced you further that staying in Boston would kill you. One way or another, you knew that staying here would lead to you being just another one of the bodies that Joel had to toss in the pit. You shuddered at the thought.

“You’ll rot there too! You can’t pick and choose your life anymore, Y/N! It’s like this everywhere!”

You shook your head, feeling heat rush into your face. “It doesn’t have to be! What if there’s something else out there? Something better?”

“You want to risk your life to find out?”

“Yes, Joel! I have to!” You heard your voice crack, and it was evident that the desperation in your body language had finally seeped its way into your words.

“Fine!” He barked, turning towards his liquor cabinet as you finished shoving your things into your bag.

“Fine!” You pushed the whimper out of your voice as you zipped your bag shut and made your way out of your shared apartment.

Once you’d slammed the door shut behind you, you pressed your back against the weakened wood. You shut your eyes as tight as you could, trying to will the tears away as you left down the stairs to where Tommy was waiting for you outside.

Present Day, 2023

“Joel?” A soft voice comes from behind where Joel had parked himself at the bar. Joel’s head snaps up at your near-silent entrance. “Is that you?”

“...Y/N?” He curses himself for letting someone sneak up on him yet again. But once he sees your face, sees that you’re okay and alive he feels himself deflate. He hadn’t heard from you since you left, only getting bits and pieces from his brother, though Tommy had refused to give Joel much more than that. Joel was sure that had been at your request. After a while, Joel had stopped hearing from Tommy altogether, and thus lost access to whatever minuscule amounts of information he’d been getting about you.

“They said that Tommy’s brother had come through. Guess they weren’t lyin’.”

“Guess they weren’t.” He mumbles, turning back to where he’d been picking at the chipping wood of the bar.

“You’re really gonna leave her?” You say softly, coming around to the other side of the bar. You pull two glasses from under the counter and turn to grab a bottle of whiskey off the shelf behind you.

“Shit. How fast does word spread around here?” Joel says, watching your every move, trying to memorize the way you fit into this place so naturally, trying to convince himself that you’re happier here. Without him.

“Fast enough.” You sigh, placing a half-full glass in front of him. “Dammit.” He doesn’t grab the glass right away, staring at the sloshing liquid until it stills.

“You can’t leave her.” You say, resting your now empty hand against your hip.

“Like you left me?”

You sigh, moving to pull a stool from under the counter. You can’t bring yourself to sit directly next to him, not yet. You needed the foot of space that the bar provided to keep you from completely drowning yourself in his presence. “I didn’t have a choice, you know that. You meant the world to me. You still do."

“Do I?” “Joel.” You hesitate. “Do I?” He barks, and there’s a harshness to his words that hadn’t been there when he’d first asked the question. You appear to flinch, but he chooses not to comment on your obvious apprehension. You take a minute to compose yourself before beginning to speak.

“Of course you do. There hasn’t been anyone since you. I don’t know if there ever will be.” You look down at the bar in front of you, daring only once to sneak a peek at Joel’s hands that had finally clasped around the glass. “You don’t have to lie for me. I’m a big boy.” He takes a swig of his drink, grimacing at the pleasant burn it left as it traveled down his throat. “I’m not lyin’. You were it for me.” You continue to avoid his eyes as you busied yourself with wiping down the counter.

Joel grumbled, wanting to drop his head onto the old wood in front of him. “You’re too young for me to have been it for you.” “Maybe so, but I loved you.” “Loved?” “What does it matter to you?” You snap, finally looking up at him and meeting his eyes. It was then that you noticed just how tired he was. Sure, he’d been grizzled and tired when you’d last seen him, but it seemed that the last three years had aged him faster than the previous seventeen had.

“Never mind.” He says, breaking eye contact and looking back down at where his fingers traced the carvings in the glass.

You soften, realizing just how much you’d truly missed him, how much you still miss him. You miss the way he’d hold you after a supply run went wrong – or right, for that matter. Joel had loved holding you whenever he got the chance. You miss the way he’d laugh at one of your shitty jokes, playfully pushing you away from him as you tried to get him to admit he’d found it funny. You blush when the thought pops into your head, but you also miss the way he’d put his whole body into kissing you, always made you lose yourself in the feel of his lips, his hands, and his thighs pressed against your body. You didn’t want to dig yourself any deeper of a hole, so you decide to bring the topic back to something you could think about without wanting to scream.

“Please don’t leave her, Joel.”

Joel groans, looking back up at you and frowning, “We’re back on this?”

“It’s important. I can tell how much she means to you.” “It’s none of your business,” he says, taking a final swig of his drink.

“Isn’t it?”

He shakes his head, looking down at the empty glass in front of him, “Nope.”

“I suppose it’s not,” you relent, moving to pour him another few ounces. He lets you.

“I’m glad we finally agree on something.”

You nod, looking down at the bottle in your hands. You place the bottle back on the shelf, turning back to take a drink out of your own glass. You decide to push it further.

“Ellie’s not going to let you leave her.”

Joel sighs as if he’s annoyed that the conversation has continued, but he doesn’t leave. For that, you are thankful.

“What do you know about her?” He demands quietly, still refusing to look back up at you.

“I know enough.”

“I’m not gonna leave her,” he concedes, “I’m gonna give her a choice. Let her stay here or come with me.”

“She’s gonna choose you.”

“How do you know? You didn’t.”

“That was different.” “Was it?” He grunts.

“Yes. Because I regret it.” At this, his eyes snap up to meet yours. You’re looking at him sadly, as if it was obvious, as if he should have known that you regretted leaving him. Maybe he should have. He doesn’t say anything for a long while, just staring at you and watching the tears pool in your eyes.

“Oh,” is all he comes up with, and you frown.

“Is that what you wanted to hear? That I regret leaving you? That I’ve been miserable this whole time without you?”

“No, of course not,” he says sincerely.

You scoff, rolling your eyes and taking another drink from your glass, “Yeah right.”

“You think I wanted you to be miserable?” Joel says, finally standing from his seat at the bar, “I’ve thought about you every day since you left. I didn’t want to let you leave, but I also knew I had no power to stop you. I knew you were miserable in Boston. I knew I couldn’t convince you to stay.” “Even with how miserable leaving you made me feel, I think it was the right choice.” Joel frowns again, and the wrinkles around his eyes become only more prominent. You yearn to press the obvious hurt out of his face. You don’t let him speak, holding up your hand as you continue talking.

“I think I had to leave you. I don’t think I realized how important you were to me until I didn’t have you anymore.” At your words, Joel's frown only hardens. “You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t you tell me what I mean, Joel Miller,” you snap, your back straightening from where you’d been leaning against the shelf.

“If I was so important to you, why didn’t you come back?”

“I didn’t think you wanted me back.”

Joel’s face softens. He looks at you like you’ve just told him the most heartbreaking news he’d ever heard. “What?” He says it so quietly you almost miss it, “You thought…” he trails off, not allowing himself to finish the thought.

“I thought you hated me.” You blurt. You curse yourself, you’d meant to say it softer than that, to maybe sugarcoat it a little bit.

“You thought I hated you?” You don’t answer him this time, merely shrugging and looking down and tracing the grain pattern of the bar. “I could never hate you.”

He says it so harshly you feel as though you’re being scolded, and it only makes you shrink further in on yourself. He notices your shift and softens. He comes around your side of the bar, needing to be close to you, to feel your warmth again. You allow him to approach you, and when you don’t shy away from him, he feels a part of him that has been asleep for three years reawaken. He is filled with a sort of warmth that he never thought he’d feel again as he reaches up to cup your face, speaking softly, “Sweetheart, I could never hate you. Never in a million years could I hate you.” He brushes his thumb over your cheek, and he may be imagining it, but he thinks he feels you press your face into his hand. You close your eyes, but he has more to say.

“Y/N, listen to me. We’ve been through too much for me to ever hate you. I’ve seen you at your absolute worst and I still wanted you so bad it hurt.”

You pull away from his touch, and he feels cold again.

“That was before I left,” You say, almost as if you’re ashamed of yourself.

“That’s true. Even after that, though. I never hated you. Not for a second.” “Don’t lie to me Joel,” you almost whimper, and you shut your eyes in embarrassment at letting your voice crack.

“I’m not lying to you. Sure, I was pissed. Heartbroken, even. I thought you and Tommy were idiots for leaving, but there’s no way in hell I ever hated you for it.”

You give a non-commital shrug, still avoiding eye contact with him, “sure,” you eventually mumble.

“I’m telling you the truth. I have to reason to lie to you.”

“To spare my feelings, maybe.” You say softly, now fidgeting with your fingers.

“When have I ever done that?”

This makes you chuckle quietly, and he’s filled with a sort of pride that warms him from the inside out. There’s my girl, he finds himself thinking. Your laugh and your smile fades, and with it, that fuzzy feeling in Joel’s chest.

“You should hate me.” You finally say.

“I know,” he says, reaching up to touch you again. This time, he reaches for your hair, pushing a lock of it from your face, “But I can’t bring myself to.”

It's quiet for a few moments before you speak again, “I thought I hated you.” Joel’s hand drops from your face.

“What?” He tries to keep the fear out of his voice, and from your lack of reaction, he hopes that he’s succeeded.

“I thought I hated you because you let me leave so easily. I thought you’d just decided you didn’t need me anymore. That I wasn’t worth fighting for. That was stupid, I realize that now. But I wrote some pretty bitter things about you in my journal.”

Joel’s hand moves back up to your face, this time to brush away the tears that had fallen down your cheeks, “I could never not need you.”

You shake your head, moving out of his grip again. “You did just fine for more than a decade without me.”

“Maybe I just didn’t realize how alone I was.”

This makes you laugh again, but not in a way that fills Joel with warmth. It’s bitter, doubtful, and angry.

“I could show you,” he starts again, moving back into your personal space, “if you’d let me. I could show you how much you meant to me. How much you still mean to me.”

“I don’t…” you start, but he doesn’t let you finish.

“If you’d let me, I’d spend the rest of my life showing you how much you mean to me.”

“Joel…” you start again, but this time you let yourself trail off, not knowing what you were going to say, just knowing that you should probably say something.

“Please sugar,” he starts again, placing his hands softly on your shoulders. You don’t move any closer, but you also don’t move away, so Joel keeps going, “You said it yourself. There’s still a small part of you that loves me, even if you probably shouldn’t.”

You mumble something to yourself, something Joel couldn’t make out. He reaches up to move your face towards him, to force you to look at him. You obey his silent request, looking up and into his eyes that were somehow still so soft, even after all these years.

“It’s not a small part of me, Joel,” you say again, speaking louder this time, “It was never a small fucking part. My whole being was devoted to you. It tore me apart to leave you. I was useless on the road. Once we were with the Fireflies, I threw myself into my work and my chores so that I didn’t have to think about the huge Joel-shaped piece that was missing from my heart. I hate myself for leaving, and I hate myself even more for not going back to Boston and fighting for you. I was a coward. I still am.”

By the time you’re finished talking, tears are streaming down your face. Joel is looking at you with the softest eyes you’ve ever seen, and it makes you want to curl into a ball and never speak to anyone again. He lets you cry for a moment before he responds.

“If you’re a coward, then I’m a coward too. I could have just as easily come looking for you.” “I never expected you to.” You squeak out, in between your sobs “And I never expected you to come back. That doesn’t mean I got over you leaving. I didn’t think I’d ever get over it. And I hadn’t, not until I saw you here.”

Once he finishes speaking, he finally pulls you into his chest and just lets you sob into him. He doesn’t know how long the two of you stand there, in that empty bar, with his arms wrapped around you, but what he does know is that he never wants to let you go. Eventually, your sobs fade to quiet sniffles and you shift in order to wrap your arms around his body. Even though the two of you are pressed against each other, the way you grab at him makes it seem as though you need him even closer. You mumble something into his chest that he can’t quite make out, so he pulls you away from him. You whine at the loss of his touch, but you quiet once you see how he looks at you.

“What was that, sweetheart?”

“I said I love you.” You sniffle, reaching up and wiping a tear from his face.

“I love you too, Y/N. God, do I love you.”

part two

#my writing #joel miller x reader #joel miller #the last of us hbo #the last of us #ellie williams #hbo #hbo!joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller fanfiction

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