#one part had me outright sobbing

[stoneclaw]

i have never once in my life experienced a story as much ABOUT love and written WITH love as this one. my fucking god.

[chris-prank]

Yandere CEO x GN reader

Not so helpless Part 1

CW: Manipulation, creepy behavior, clingy behavior, forced intimacy and L bomb

(This is a work of fiction for entertainment purposes only, I do not support yandere behaviors in real life)

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📈 Esteban was well known to be overbearing, blunt and a tad arrogant with his employees. He wasn’t outright mean, simply annoying to most. 

📈 He always looked proper with his flawless hair and his expensive suit perfectly tailored to his body. 

📈 His height and stature didn’t really help making him look approachable. Most people had to look up to talk to him or they would be uncomfortably looking at his man boob, the button of his shirt threatening to come loose at any moment. 

📈 He didn’t treat you differently, but luckily you weren’t in a high position in the company, meaning that you didn’t have to interact with him on a daily basis.

📈 Despite his bad reputation, you always distanced yourself from people who talked behind his back. You even tried to defend him on occasions, but soon stopped after people accused you of having a crush on him, which you didn’t.

📈 One day he seemed to stop coming to work to the surprise of everyone. You had overheard that his latest partner had broken up with him. You didn’t care about his personal life, but you did feel bad for him. A broken heart could definitely explain his absence…

📈 “Plea-please I…I need your help.” 

📈 After overcoming the shock of having your boss begging at your doorstep, you welcomed him inside. He was now sitting on your sofa, holding one of your pillows against his chest, crying a river into it. 

📈 Between sobs, you think you understood the situation. Since his partner had ended things with him, he hasn’t been able to take care of himself, go to work and even stay in his house because it reminded him too much of them. Only mentioning their name made him cry even more into the soft material. 

📈 You finally broke the silence with the question that was hanging in your mind since the start of this encounter. “So em… How am I supposed to help you?”

📈 “Well I’ll l-live with you of course.” He sniffed while rubbing his eyes. 

📈 Before all of this Esteban was uninterested in you. He caught glimpses of you when he walked around the building, and he had to admit you were quite attractive, but it was nothing more. The thing that made him choose you at his lowest was that he heard you defend him while eavesdropping on his employees' conversations once.

📈 “I k-know that everyone dislikes me at the office Sniff and the o-ones that don’t… a-are just boot lickers. P-please you’re the only o-one that I can count on!”

📈 He looked so pathetic with his swollen eyes, disheveled blond hair and open shirt. You sighed and accepted his request. You couldn’t refuse someone in need. Who knows what he would do unattended in this depressed state.

📈 The following days you felt like you were taking care of a big crybaby. Not that he didn’t do things by himself, quite the contrary. He would sometimes cook for you when you came back from work, he would also take care of the laundry and other small house chores around your apartment. He was still a bit blunt and arrogant at times, criticizing the way you did chores or your cooking skills.

📈 Don’t you see that he is so much better at this than you! Just let him do it instead while you go sit and praise him for his good work. 

📈 The real inconvenient, was that you had to be with him 24/7. This guy was a true attention whore, clinging to you at any chance he got. If that��s how he acted with his ex, you weren’t surprised that they decided to dump him. 

📈 You could feel eyes staring at you from the back of your skull, no matter what you were doing. If you turned around, you were met with sad puppy eyes, begging you to give him attention instead. 

📈 When you allowed physical touch, he would become all happy and clingy, not missing a chance to whisper in a whiny voice how kind you were to him. 

📈 “Wrap your hands a bit tighter around me… please? Aaah yes, just like that.”

📈 But leave him alone for more than ten minutes and he would go back to the pathetic state he was in, when you found him on your doorstep.

📈 As a result, your social life was sacrificed most of the time. When he was at his lowest, you had to have your groceries delivered and work from home (imagine the surprise of his subordinate when they got a call from Esteban to let you, an insignificant employee, work from home). 

📈 Spending this much time with you and sharing such a personal space made Esteban feel increasingly infatuated with you. You were so kind and understanding to him despite not having any obligation to do so! (Yay he was technically your boss, but he was so high up that his position didn’t truly affect yours.)

📈 He felt the irrepressible feeling to learn more about you and do anything that could spark a smile on your face.

📈 He started to act more and more affectionate with you as time went on, taking advantage of the situation. By the way he holds your waist and buries his head in your shoulder, anyone watching would think you two are a loving couple.

📈 “Too intimate? We’re simply cuddling! You should get your mind out of the gutter. It's nasty, you know.”

📈 Sometimes he would lay on top of you with his face nuzzling the crook of your neck, not caring if he was too heavy. If you stopped playing with his hair for more than ten seconds, he would whine until you played with it again. 

📈 The moment he got better enough to leave the house, he was following you everywhere. It doesn’t matter if it’s the grocery store, the movie theater or your local park, there he was, scotch taped to you. 

📈 He would hold your hand the whole time and refuse to leave your side no matter what excuses you gave him. He also tried to pay for your stuff at any chance he got.

📈 “You’ve done so much for me, so it’s the minimum I can do to thank you!” He pouted, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks. 

📈 He looked perfectly fine from the point of view of any stranger, but at home he was still demanding as ever. It even went to the extreme length of him sleeping in the same bed as you, begging to spoon you every night. 

📈 At that point you felt like you were a replacement for his ex partner, a bad way for him to cope. That's when you started to think it was maybe better for him to try to live on his own again. 

📈 You told him that you thought he was becoming codependent and he needed real help to get better. 

📈 “No wait! I need you!” He sobbed, “You help me…you really do!” 

📈 He had fallen to his knees, clinging to your leg while incoherent pleas came out of his mouth. He couldn’t be abandoned again! He especially couldn’t let you leave him like this! He loved you!

📈 His extreme reaction was only making things worse for him, has it proved your point. You tried your best to reassure him that was the best thing to do. 

📈 After more crying and begging, he accepted to leave your place only if he could still come visit every now and then, which you accepted. You promised him to stay by his side as much as possible during his recovery before he finally walked out the door, alone. 

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I hope you liked this new pathetic man! Also, sorry, but no illustration this time. I have a clear image in my head of what he is supposed to look like, but I just can't seem to put it on paper for now.

So I finally drew him lol you can see it here

[ghostfacd]

you’ll see my face in every place (but you can’t catch me now)

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!capitol!reader

summary: you were finally dead, so why did you show up everyday in Coriolanus’s life?

warnings: coriolanus is a sick motherf, seriously sick. mentions of sex, mentions of killing & snakes, reader finally getting justice in end (sorta?)

part 1 | can be read off as standalone but recommend reading for context

Coriolanus Snow was utterly and undeniably fucked. He absolutely was.

He was sure when he had gotten rid of Sejanus, Lucy Gray, and you—that that was the end of it, and no one would hear about it again. After all, the Plinths and Ciceros took in Coriolanus like a son, thanking them for taking such good care of their son and daughter when they couldn’t.

And it wasn’t like Coriolanus Snow was some idiot. He knew how to cover up his tracks, and he knew how to do it good. If there’s one thing about him, it’s that he believes if one truly wants to get rid of something, one should do all in his power to make it happen. And that’s what Coriolanus did. He erased every trace of Lucy Gray Baird and Sejanus, and hopefully, you.

Coriolanus woke up one morning in the Cicero estate feeling extremely cold. He looked outside to see snow, which made his lips quirk up in a sly smile. Your parents were devastated over your death, Mrs. Cicero automatically offering Coriolanus your bedroom because she couldn’t stand her only daughter being gone.

- - -

Coriolanus opens your closet, a walk-in closet that not even the whole District 1 would be able to afford. Gosh, he remembered the first time he was here and you were showing him a pretty short dress that covered nothing, and how he wanted to take you right then and there. He did minutes after, and that short dress was long discarded on the floor.

But now your presence was gone, just your clothes that were still there. Mr. Cicero refused for the maids to get rid of it; he said he wanted to remember his daughter for the lovely fashionable girl she was. Coriolanus looked through your sweaters, much were pink or white, but Corio found a dark blue one that was gender neutral that he liked.

Although it was just polyester, Coriolanus felt chills as he wore it. He swore he took in a whiff of your perfume. How could that have been possible? It was weeks after yours and Sejanus’s death, weeks after he went back to the Capitol with a fake sob story and bloodshot eyes. There was no way—just absolutely no way that your perfume could still be lingering on this old polyester sweater.

Snow gasps. A loud sound hits your window, a bird, he assumes. And as he gets closer, his suspicions are confirmed when he sees a unconscious bird on the floor, with snow melting around it.

Snow melting. Snow. Melting.

Coriolanus needed to get out of his own head. It wasn’t healthy.

He was now an apprentice to Dr. Gaul, a spot that brought him enormous pride. Soon, he’ll take over all of Panem, and make sure any remaining rebels would be expelled, or better yet, executed.

“Hey,”

Was Coriolanus going crazy? He was so sure he heard your voice in the trees, just right outside your estate. Mrs. Cicero, your mother, had expressed how much you liked planting, and it was evident from the amount of tall bark trees littering around the entire home.

In the lab, Dr. Gaul was teaching Coriolanus how to be gentle with the snakes so he wouldn’t get bitten like poor Clemensia had before the 10th Hunger Games even started. He thought she was long dead by now, but she had came to him a few weeks prior yelling about how she can’t believe he never visited her in the hospital. Coriolanus didn’t outright tell her—but he saw fading scales all over her neck. The turtleneck wasn’t doing her any good.

“Alright, here you go,” Dr. Gaul says gently, handing Coriolanus one of the longer snakes. He looked into its eyes, and was horrified to see your eyes stare back at him. He shrieked, flapping the snake into the air and blinking a few times to make sure he wasn’t going crazy.

“What is wrong with you Mr. Snow?!” Dr. Gaul asks, astonished by her star pupil’s behavior.

He only gulps, excusing himself home early that day.

- - -

“Oh Corio, I wanted you to have this,” Mr. Cicero approached him as he sat in front of your giant vanity. He was holding a few printed photographs of you and Coriolanus, huddled up together, looking as cute of a couple as ever. He remembered those moments, where you were smiling like crazy as you looked up at him with the doe eyes he seem to have been missing lately. “You know my daughter really loved you. And I’m not a man of many words—but I want to thank you for being there for her. She loved you so much she begged me to let her go to district 12 to be with you and Sejanus again. I hate the way things happened, but at least I know she was loved by you.”

And slowly, Snow starts to crack.

When the Ciceros had fallen asleep, he lit the fireplace, watching as the fire slowly get taller. He takes one good look at the photographs, then throws them in with the flames. He gave his blood, sweat, and tears for this moment. To finally be in a huge estate, to be with loving parents, to be an apprentice to the most important doctor in the Capitol. He deserved this. He did. He gave up his best friend, he gave up his own tribute, Lucy Gray—not that she mattered or anything because Coriolanus established a clear line in his head that she was simply just a district scum who was lucky enough to win because of him. And lastly, he gave up his girlfriend, Y/N Cicero, you, for this.

Coriolanus Snow was not going to let anything get in the way of his goal.

- - -

The next week, Coriolanus suggests the Ciceros throw a party to memorialize you. Coriolanus thinks of this big, grand, emotional speech. He’ll tell everyone how much of a sweetheart you were, how much you two were inlove. Then he’d get stern—saying that he’ll make sure your death won’t be forgotten, especially when he plans on running for president soon.

Everyone claps, so infatuated with the way he speaks. It’s cause he lies; straight from his mouth.

“I know what you did.”

The trees speak to Coriolanus in hushed violent murmurs, almost as if they were mad at him. They spoke in riddles, but sometimes they’d just outright say what Coriolanus had done.

“You killed them. You killed them all.”

“Blood is on your hands.”

“Snow bleeds red.”

And it frustrates Snow. It’s something, for once, that he can’t control. It sickens him that he’s unable to anything about the trees.

- - -

Mr. and Mrs. Cicero die a year later. Rebel bombing, they assumed. But only Coriolanus knew that it wasn’t—that it was him, and because he was like a son to them for the past year, he was under their will, meaning he got the entire estate.

He ran for president with the Cicero family name, and with their money too.

Coriolanus marries Livia Cardew. He doesn’t like her, much less tolerate her, but she was a good asset. Just a trophy hanging from his arm.

And Livia didn’t mind, she knew Snow was incapable of loving her, and she had an itching feeling it had something to do with you.

But Livia loved you when she was friends with you at the Academy, so she doesn’t bat an eye when Coriolanus mumbles out your name while they’re having sex. In fact, Coriolanus refused to touch or look at Livia unless he was under enormous pressure and needed someone—no something—to get his anger out on. Livia always took the blows, but she was still grateful that she hadn’t married Fetus, because that—that wouldn’t have been pretty.

The first thing Snow does as president is cut down the trees. The forests and woods? Well he burned them all. He didn’t like the cat and mouse chase that Lucy Gray had played on him in the woods, so he figured getting rid of them was like finally erasing you from his brain. No more Sejanus Plinth, no more Lucy Gray Baird, and fucking finally, finally!—no more Y/N Cicero.

But Coriolanus made a slight error. Because 64 years later, his ex lover comes back to haunt him, only this time, in the form of a girl from District 12, Katniss Everdeen.

[giannan04]

Hiii, can you please write a Yandere San X reader fanfic? Maybe where he’s her therapist and he gets her to break up with her bf because he’s been obsessed with her? 🙏🏽make it dark pleaseee? Tyy in advance

Thanks for the request!💕🫶🏻I hope you like it, I tried to fit everything in the best I could 🥹🫶🏻I hope it’s dark enough for you 👀

-

Pairing: Therapist Yandere! Choi San x afab! Reader, Mention of Jung Wooyoung X afab! Reader

Genre: Yandere; thriller

Warnings: Manipulation, mentions of a toxic relationship, slight smut, character death, very slight gore.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! 🔞

-

Dr. San Choi's reputation preceded him. He was the therapist everyone seemed to swear by. Patients praised his ability to get results where others failed, and he was known for treating some of the most complex mental health cases in the city. When your relationship with Wooyoung started having problems, your best friend Mingi suggested therapy. You were hesitant at first, but when he specifically recommended Dr. Choi, someone who had worked wonders for him, you decided to give it a try.

“Trust me, San’s the real deal,” Mingi said, leaning in with that serious look he gets when he really means something. “He helped me when I was going through one of the darkest periods in my life. If anyone’s gonna help you figure out what’s going on, it’s him.”

That’s how you found yourself meeting with San in his warmly lit office multiple times a week. From the start, Dr.Choi had a way of making you feel truly heard, like every word you said mattered. He never rushed through sessions and even went as far as canceling other appointments just so you could have more time when you needed it. He never told you that you were wrong, no matter how messy or complicated your relationship issues sounded. Instead, he listened with that same calm, reassuring expression that made you feel understood and validated. Over time, he even gave you his home address, offering to meet there if you ever needed to talk outside of office hours. You didn’t think much of it—you just figured he was incredibly dedicated to his work and to helping you through this tough time.

Over the weeks, San subtly guided you into believing that your relationship was toxic, that Wooyoung was holding you back. He never said it outright; instead, he asked questions that made you second-guess everything. "Do you feel like you're truly happy?" he'd ask, his voice gentle but insistent. "Sometimes, we stay in situations because we're afraid of being alone, not because they're right for us." Little by little, you found yourself reexamining your relationship with Wooyoung.

San’s advice seemed to play on repeat whenever you fought with Wooyoung. The tension between you two had been getting worse for months, with minor disagreements escalating into major arguments. Every time you argued with Wooyoung, you couldn’t shake the feeling that San’s words were right there with you. Even though part of you still hoped things could improve, the truth was hard to ignore: deep down, you knew San was right, there was no saving your relationship. It felt like there was no way to fix what had become broken, despite your hopes that things could somehow get better.

One night, after another argument left you in tears, you found yourself at San's apartment instead of your own. You needed someone to talk to, and San was the first person you could think of. You had caught Wooyoung with another girl, and you didn’t want to be alone. You needed to let everything out. Your heart was broken, and you know the only person you could talk to was San. You hadn't planned on it, but he'd always offered you to come to his place,and before you knew it, there you were, standing outside his front door.

When San opened the door, pleasantly surprised to see you. His brows furrowed as he glanced at his watch. “Y/N? What happened? It’s almost midnight,” he asked, concern replacing the confusion in his eyes as he noticed that you were sobbing. Tears covered your face, and you were so hurt and anxious that you were shaking. San’s heart broke seeing you like that. Without hesitation, his expression softened, and he gently took your trembling hand. “Come in,” he said, his voice soothing as he pulled you into the safety of his home.

You sat on his couch, trying to hold back more tears as you told him everything—how you found Wooyoung with another girl, how you felt like your relationship was falling apart. San listened intently, never taking his eyes off you, nodding with genuine empathy. When you finished, San leaned in closer, brushing a tear off your cheek with his thumb. “You deserve so much better than this, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice low and comforting. “You deserve someone who would never even think of hurting you like that. Someone who truly values you.”

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks at his words and the way his hand lingered on your face, the soft caress sending a warmth through you that you hadn’t felt in a long time. His touch was tender yet firm, making you feel safe; cared for. You haven’t felt that way in a while. You caught your breath as he leaned in just a bit closer, his other hand gently resting on your thigh, as if waiting for your permission. “I can show you what it feels like to be treated right,” he murmured, his gaze darkening with desire. Despite the hesitation you felt at the back of your mind, you couldn’t deny the lust and attraction you felt in that moment. You leaned into his touch, your body responding before your thoughts could catch up.

His lips were dangerously close now, and there was no more space between you. All the tension, all the confusion, all the heartbreak you were feeling—everything faded away as his hands slid further up your skirt, placing his hands on your ass, pulling you into him with a gentle firmness that felt intoxicating. “Let me take care of you, Y/N,” San whispered, his words making your body tingle and heart flutter. And before you could even think to resist, you found yourself nodding, your body betraying you. In your head, you knew this was wrong, but your body felt so right. And you needed, no, deserved to be loved and cared for. It was about damn time.

“I want you, San… I need you. Please, take care of me,” you told him softly, never looking away from his brown almond-shaped eyes. That was all San needed to hear-the very words he had been waiting for since the moment you stepped into his office. San smirked, as he began undressing you with a deliberate slowness, savoring every second. He took in each sight of your beautiful body, pleased that it belonged to him.Before you knew it, he was fucking you right there in his living room, each touch, each kiss, each thrust leaving you wanting more. For the first time in months, Wooyoung and your relationship problems vanished from your mind, replaced by the warm sensation of San's hands on your body, the way he whispered your name like a prayer. The way his dick filled you up, the way he kissed your body was he made love to you.

The only things you were thinking about was how you never wanted San to stop making love to you. And San knew, finally… you belonged to him. San's hands rested possessively on your waist as he thrusted deeper and deeper inside you, your ass slapping against his thighs. You moaned uncontrollably, never wanting him to stop. You wanted to show him he had complete control over you. San’s eyes never left the sight of you, he loved seeing what a slut you could be for him, and how only he could make you feel this way. Smirking, he bent down close to your ear, whispered sweetly to you. "See? You feel it, don't you? How good we are together. You don't need him, Y/N. I'm the one who understands you, who can give you everything you’ve ever wanted, and more. Only I can make you feel this way. You belong to me, and I’m never letting you go."

The next morning, sunlight peeked through the curtains, but the warmth in the living room felt oddly suffocating. You noticed a heavy blanket was draped over your naked body. You must have fallen asleep after what happened last night, so San must’ve brought a blanket out for you. You glanced over and San was still lying beside you, sleeping peacefully. His arm was wrapped tightly around your waist. Yawning, you reached for your phone which was on the floor next to you. You unlocked your phone, and your heart nearly skipped a beat when you saw a text from Wooyoung: I know I fucked up. But I love you. And I want us to work on things. I don’t want to lose you. Let me know when you’re ready to talk.

Your heart fluttered with a sense of hope, but before you could respond to the text, you felt San's eyes boring into you. You looked up at him, not realizing how closely he was watching your every move. You didn’t even hear him wake up. His expression remained calm, but the slight clenching of his jaw told you everything. He was furious. He must’ve seen you open the message on your phone when he woke up.

"Oh. Wooyoung texted me. He wants to fix things," you said, a little too eagerly, not noticing the anger settling into San's expression.

San's smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he leaned in to kiss your forehead.

"That's... nice," he murmured, though his voice didn’t reflect that. He actually sounded pissed, but you could tell he wasn’t trying to show it. San stood up, wrapping the blanket around him as he walked towards his bedroom. “I have to get dressed. You can stay here as long as you need, Y/N. I actually have to head out for another appointment, but make yourself at home, alright?"

You nodded. “Okay, thank you,” you said sweetly, ignoring the tension.

San drove in silence, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. He replayed your excitement over Wooyoung's text in his mind, a bitter taste settling on his tongue. How could you be so blind? After everything he had done to get you away from Wooyoung, after showing you what real love felt like, you still had the nerve to be excited about that cheating scumbag reaching out! Pissed off didn’t even begin to describe how San felt. He was so angry his eyes twitched and his hands shook as he drove. He had to do something, he was about to have you all to himself until that mother fucker sent you that text.

His thoughts darkened further as he arrived at the home you shared with Wooyoung. His plan formed in his mind, making him feel only a little better. He knocked on the door, his face wearing the mask of a friendly, concerned therapist. Really, he was the furious therapist who wanted to fuck somebody up.

Wooyoung opened the door, blinking in surprise. "San? Aren't you YIN's therapist?"

San let out a cheerful laugh. "Yeah, I am! My office is getting renovated, so I thought I'd stop by and see how things are going. I know Y/ N's been having a tough time, and I wanted to touch base."

Wooyoung relaxed slightly, shrugging. "She's not here right now, but come in. We can talk about how she's been doing. Ive been wanting to talk to you, anyway. Maybe you can give me some insight."

San stepped inside, carefully observing every detail of the house, the place where you once tried to build a future with someone who never deserved you. They moved throughout the home and as Wooyoung started talking, San could feel his blood boiling but he knew he had to remain calm. Wooyoung would get what he deserved shortly.

Wooyoung led San into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of bourbon. “Want some?” he asked, holding the bottle up. “No, thank you. I’m just here under professional circumstances” San smiled, watching as Wooyoung shrugged and opened the bottle. “Suit yourself,” he said, taking a sip. San and Wooyoung sat at the table, ready to discuss sessions. Which was what San wanted Wooyoung to think, anyway.

"Ever since she started therapy, it's like she's blowing everything out of proportion.

She's been acting like our problems are way bigger than they actually are, like she's ooking for an excuse to leave. I don't know, man... it feels like she's being pushed into seeing the worst in me." Wooyoung stared long and hard at San.

San's eyes darkened, his smile slipping for just a moment as he watched Wooyoung ramble on. How dare he accuse him of manipulating you? Wooyoung was the one who had been lying to you, hurting you, cheating on you, and who knows what else. Hell, this dick was the whole reason you needed therapy in the first place! And yet here he was, acting like the victim.

"You really think so?" San's voice was low, dangerous. He took a step closer to Wooyoung, who didn't seem to notice the shift in San's tone.

"Yeah, it's like she's-" Wooyoung was cut off by the sudden pressure of San's hand around his neck. Panic flashed in Wooyoung's eyes as he struggled against San’s grip.

“San, what…what the hell are you doing?" Wooyoung croaked, trying to break himself free. He managed to break out of the hold, shoving San back with surprising strength, but San's fury was beyond reason now. The therapist quickly regained control, his movements turning brutal as he rained down punches, each one fueled by the sickening memories of everything Wooyoung had done to hurt you.

"This is for Y/N," San hissed between clenched teeth, his eyes wild as he struck Wooyoung with relentless force. San began to stop on Wooyoung, not caring that his blood was getting thrown into the air.

"For every tear she shed because of you."

Wooyoung's resistance weakened as blood dripped from his split lips and broken nose. San's breaths were ragged as he lifted Wooyoung's head by his hair, glaring into his fading eyes. “Pl-please, man…don’t do this. I love Y/n. I never hurt her that much. Believe me”, Wooyoung tears mixed with the blood covering his face satisfied San beyond reason. “Sorry, but with you gone, Y/n will be happier. If you really loved her, you wouldn’t mind dying.” With a final surge of strength, San twisted his hand, the sickening crack of Wooyoung's neck snapping echoing in the room as he tore his head clean off.

The lifeless expression on Wooyoung's face was frozen in terror as San calmly wiped his hands on a towel he found in the kitchen. The sight of Wooyoung's head dangling by his fingers didn't faze him-in fact, he was feeling a sense of satisfaction

San returned to his apartment, already mentally preparing to tell you to ignore Wooyoung’s text, that he didn’t deserve you. But when he entered his home, he found you pacing the living room, your phone clutched tightly in your hand.

"San, I've been thinking... maybe I should give Wooyoung another chance," you blurted out. You didn't notice how San's entire demeanor shifted, his smile growing unnervingly cold.

"Why would you even consider that, Y/N?" San's voice was sharper than you expected, laced with barely-contained fury. You thought your therapist would’ve been happy for you, that you were ready to work things out. “After everything he's put you through, why would you care? Especially after what we did last night."

His words cut through you like ice. You hadn't anticipated such a strong reaction from him. Your face turned bright red and you avoided his gaze. "I... I don't know. I guess I was just confused. I just wanted to feel loved but I’m in love with Wooyoung, and it’s hard to let go of someone you cared about for so long."

San's eyes narrowed, his patience thinning. "You shouldn't have even cared when he texted you. Do you think that was fair to me? Letting me be the one to comfort you, only to get excited over him? And then you let me fuck you-" His words dripped with venom as his eyes blazed with barely-restrained anger. “You’re a worthless whore. Disgusting… I don’t know how I’m even looking at you right now. I shouldn’t have felt bad for you all of those times you came to my office, crying about him. You deserve to be treated like shit!”, his words dripped with venom, his face turning red as he screamed in your face. Your ears throbbed and you broke down in tears. San was scaring you, and the things he was saying to you hurt.

You took a step back, sobs shaking your body. San... I didn't mean for things to get so complicated… please stop yelling at me, you’re scaring me!,” you put your hands in front of your face, just in case he was going to starting hitting you.

San's expression hardened, and without another word, he grabbed your hand, pulling you toward the living room. "I think it's time I show you something, Y/n.

You nodded, unsure of what he had to show you. For some reason, there was a feeling in your stomach, a gut feeling. Something was off. The unease grew as he led you to a trash bag that was sitting in front of the front door. “What’s that?,” you asked, confused. Why on earth was he showing you a trash bag? Did he want you to take the garbage out?

San laughed, but it wasn’t humorous. With a single swift motion, San tore the trash bag open, revealing the gruesome sight inside.

Wooyoung's severed head stared back at you, lifeless eyes wide open in horror. His olive skin had turn a sickly gray color, and a stench burned your nose. Your breath caught in your throat as you stumbled back, terror freezing you in place. You screamed, your hands covering your eyes as you dropped to the floor. “Why… why would you do this?”, you covered your face, as you choked on snot and tears. Your body shook and between the crying, the smell of rotting flesh, and the sight of the love of your life’s body-less head was all too much. You stared up at San. Someone you trusted with your problems, someone you felt safe with, was a monster. San looked at you, a twisted grin on his face.

"Now, Y/N, tell me... are you still confused about who really cares about you?"

-

I’m still taking requests everyone, I’ll write anything🫶🏻❤️

[cressidagrey]

Dust off your Highest Hopes - Part 3 (The End)

Summary:

Eavesdroppers never hear anything good about themselves, goes the idiom. 

When Solana hears an admission from the High Lord of Day, she’s ill-prepared for it. She doesn’t believe in fairytales any longer, but maybe there was a happily ever after for Solana and Helion somewhere.

Warnings:

Mention of Rape, Mention of Domestic Violence. It's all in the past, it's non graphic, but Solana is still dealing with it.

Notes:

This was supposed to be a one shot. One day I will find a way to be less wordy.

(thanks to @tsunami-of-tears for the super pretty dividers!)

Solana would have preferred nearly everything over having this discussion right now. But Helion was there, kneeling in the straw next to her…one massive broad hand touching her gently. So gently, always so gently. 

He was intimately aware of the strength in his broad muscles and he had never even hurt her accidentally…had never laid a finger on her in anger, even if she probably had deserved it more than once. He was trying to calm her down, trying to make it better for her and she…

“I am sorry,” she managed to bring out before she sobbed again. 

Solana wished she wasn’t as broken as she was. She wished she could give him everything, give herself to him…she wished she could…she could love him, but she couldn’t. 

“Gods, Solana, you don’t need to apologise,” Helion whispered. “Tell me what happened.”His warm, massive hand drew circles over her back. “We’ll make it right. It’s us. We can make everything right.”

But could they make this right?

She tried to find the words, but they stuck in the back of her throat, her breathing coming in short gasps. She couldn’t find the words, she didn’t know how to make him understand. She didn’t want to hurt him. That was the last thing she wanted to do. But somehow it felt like she was a prisoner and regardless of what direction she turned, she would stay stuck and she would hurt him even when she didn’t want to hurt him. 

Helion made a soft noise, calming her like she was a spooking Pegasus. In any other situation, it may would have amused her. 

In this one…In this one, it only made her sob more. 

“It’s alright,” he soothed her. “Take your time. What’s wrong, sunshine?” He coaxed her, the pet name falling from his lips. 

She adored that stupid pet name. 

And so finally…finally she pressed her face tighter against Clodagh’s mane and whispered the words that she didn’t want to say. 

She couldn’t stomach to lie to him. She just couldn’t. 

“I heard you,” she forced out. “I eavesdropped, I shouldn’t have. I am so sorry,” the rest of her words poured out of her, even when she didn’t want to. 

She could feel Helion’s hand freeze on her back and she expected him to withdraw, but he didn’t. 

He inhaled, his breath shaky. ”Oh, sunshine,” Helion said, his voice soft. “I didn’t want you to hear that like that.”

So he had meant her. She had known it before, but to have his outright agreement to her face…another sob forced its way out of her throat. 

“Is that why you are crying?” Helion asked her, his voice weak. “Because you don’t…Because you think I would force you to…”

What?

“I will never force you to do anything, Solana,” Helion told her fiercely. “I will never expect anything of you. If you say you aren’t interested, then we’ll forget today ever happened. I will never mention it again if that’s what it takes.”

That hadn’t even crossed her mind. 

She had never even thought that Helion would force himself on her.

It was just…

“I…” she tried to find the words and she failed again. 

“Take your time. It’s alright,” Helion encouraged her softly. “Whatever you need, Sunshine,” he promised her. 

And then finally, she managed to look at him, managed to bring these words over her lips. 

“You deserve better than me,” Solana whispered. Because that was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it?

He deserved somebody who could love him. Somebody that could be with him in every way and not…not her. Not her, who knew that she was traumatised on a good day…that had near nightly nightmares that left her in cold sweat and vomiting…not her, that… who was terrified to even share the same bed as him. 

“What?” 

“I can’t…I can’t love anymore. I don’t know if I ever could. He took that from me and I can’t…” Her heart was fluttering in her chest as she admitted that. 

“Solana, you’re one of the smartest people I have ever met, but this is the most idiotic thing you have ever said,” Helion snapped. “I am supposed to believe that you can’t love anymore?” he asked her sharply, golden eyes mustering her. “Then what do you call what you feel for Elain? Or for Lucien? For this Court?!” Helion challenged her.  “What about Cyane? Gil? Xavi and Rupert? What about Zia?” Her friends…their friends. “Wouldn’t you do everything for them?” Of course, she would. That wasn’t even a question. 

“What about your mother and your brother?” Helion continued and she snorted, her crying shortly interrupted by that.  

“I don’t love them,” she told him weakly. Half the time she hated her mother for what she had done to her…what she had put her through…and her brother…the less was said about that, the better. 

Helion snorted. “Sure, that’s why you tried to get between me and your mother, even while your ankle was broken,” he pointed out with a raised eyebrow. “That’s why you begged me not to do anything permanent to her, even when it was her fault that your ankle was broken in the first place.”

It hadn’t been her mother’s fault. Well, not really…it had been her own fault. Khion had grabbed her and she had overreacted…and well, that ankle had been the victim of her trying to get away. 

Khion had believed that her mother’s agreement to marriage between the two of them had been the only one that had mattered….he had made that calculation without Helion. 

(She was still relieved that Helion hadn’t actually slit Khion’s throat for it…the political ramifications of that would have been a nightmare. Or her mother’s throat for that matter. Though the screaming could have been heard echoing through the whole of the Sunray Palace. It took an awfully long time for Helion to lose his temper, but once he did…once he did, it was like a volcano erupted.)

“That’s not…” she started, but Helion just fixed her with a glare 

“What about Meallan and Clodagh?” he shot back. “You want to tell me, you don’t love them either? What about their baby? Don’t tell me you don’t love the Baby Pegasus,” something like teasing entered his voice at these words. “You’ll break their heart.” 

Said Baby Pegasus took that moment to put his little black head onto her lap, demanding head scratches, just like like his father did. 

“It’s so adorable,” Solana said weakly, as she scratched under his forelock.

It was so damn adorable.

“I know…I know that Castor hurt you,” Helion said quietly, as he reached out to pet the Baby Pegasus with her, his hand covering her own. “And I am so fucking sorry that I didn’t put a stop to it years before. I don’t know every detail and I know that he took so much from you. But don’t you dare believe that he made you worse in any way, Solana.” 

She swallowed. 

“He was the monster. Not you. You were only his victim,” Helion promised her earnestly. “And I don’t ever want to hear you say anything like this again, Sunshine.”

It was her that pounced on him in response, that tucked herself against his chest and his arms came around her body as she cried against his chest. 

“I don’t know if I can be what you need,” she admitted weakly. 

Somehow that was easier when she didn’t need to look into his face. Helion didn’t hesitate to rub her back…press a kiss against her hair that she knew must look like an absolute bird’s nest. 

“You have been everything I needed, everything this court needed for decades, Solana,” Helion promised her. “Everything else…we can figure out everything else. I promise.” He pressed another kiss against her hair. "I love you," he whispered. "And you don't need to say it back. Not right now. Just know that...There is nobody I would rather trust as my wife and Lady.”

She froze at these words, leaning slightly back to look at him and he mustered her, a hand coming up to cup her cheek. 

 “Are you seriously proposing right now?” she whispered, her voice shaking. He couldn’t be serious. Right?!

But the grin that took over his face told her a different story.  “I did make you cry,” he said as he wiped her tears from her cheeks. “I think that means that I owe you an apology gift…I suppose I could find more pearls somewhere, though why should I if there is a ring waiting for you with your name on it?”

“So yes,” Helion agreed. “I do not wish for you to be my Mistress. I want you to be my wife and the lady of this court. The title that goes with all the work you have already been doing for years, with all the respect that goes along with it.” She swallowed at these words. 

She had never demanded a title for the work she did. That had never even crossed her mind. She wasn’t Helion’s second in command either. She was just…She was just Solana. 

“So marry me,” Helion said, golden eyes sparkling. 

“Helion,” she said weakly, her mind coming up empty with reasons why she should turn him down. 

“Marry me,” he repeated. “Marry me, and I’ll show you that you can love. That you haven’t lost that ability.”

A heady offer. 

“Turn me down because you are not interested. Turn me down because you don’t feel for me like this. But don’t turn me down because you think you aren’t good enough. That you can’t love me like you think I deserve,” he continued.  “Marry me and make me the luckiest male alive, Solana.”

She swallowed. 

She wanted to give in. She wanted to do nothing more than to give in to him at that moment. 

So what was stopping her? 

Could Solana be selfish enough to saddle him with a wife who maybe could never love him like he deserved? 

She could try. She could try and learn and hope and pray and...She could become who he saw her as. 

“I’ll need time,” Solana warned him hesitantly. “I…I need…I don’t know what…how much I can take," she begged him to understand, expecting him to pull back, but he didn't. 

“We’ll take it at your pace,” Helion responded immediately, a smile blooming on his face. “I can be patient for the things I really care about.” He could be. She didn’t doubt that for one minute. 

Solana nodded.  “Alright,” she agreed. 

Helion stared at her, hesitantly. 

“Alright?” he repeated carefully. 

“Yes,” she agreed, a smile stretching over her face. “I’ll marry you. I’ll be your wife. I’ll be the Lady of this Court.”

Not an I love you. Not yet. Not when she was still unsure. 

But she trusted him and she adored him and she wanted to be his wife. Wanted to be the Lady of his Court. That counted for something, right? 

She was crushed against his chest in response, and her hands curled themselves in the shirt he wore, breathing in that scent of lemongrass and sandalwood that always clung to him. 

Meallan’s massive head came down to snort warm air against them, and she couldn’t help but laugh wetly at him, wiping away happy tears as she lifted a hand to pet him. 

“Finally got what you wanted, didn’t you?” Helion asked him with a laugh as she leaned her head against his shoulder and watched him pet Meallan as well. “Though you were the one who managed to surprise us all with your baby.”

Meallan whinnied, the sound happy and proud as he ducked his head to lick at his child, much to their amusement. 

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Helion wondered. 

“I have no clue,” she admitted weakly. “Meallan came to get me and then I had a crying fit…I didn’t check.”

A crying fit that was now leaving her utterly exhausted, as she curled up in that straw next to him and leaned her head against his shoulder. 

A quick check later, they had their answer:  “We’ll need to figure out a name for you, sweet girl,” Helion said with a grin, patting her neck.

“Well…” Solana drew out hesitantly. 

“You already had a name?” Helion asked her, turning towards her, and she shrugged. 

“Well, Clodagh picked,” she said quickly, making Helion laugh. Clodagh had picked. After Solana had read name after name to the mare. 

“Of course, she did. What did she pick?” he asked her. 

“Niamh,” Solana answered with a smile. “It means freedom.”

“Niamh,” Helion repeated thoughtfully. “It’s perfect,” he agreed and she hummed her agreement, leaning against his side and watching as Niamh gained her feet on wobbly long legs, to drink some more milk. 

And Solana…Solana was suddenly exhausted, her eyes drooping, even as Helion pressed another kiss to the crown of her head. 

“You should rest,” he told her softly, but she shook her head. 

“I have a full diary today,” she protested weakly. Maybe if she drank some black tea…or she went and saw a healer for a pepper-up potion…maybe…

“Elain can pick out the new porcelain on her own,” Helion said drily. 

“Already replacing me?” she quipped and he snorted. 

“Sure, Solana,” he agreed. “If that makes you take a break, always. Everything else you were planning on doing today was correspondence, was it not? They can wait a day longer for your answer,” he promised her. “But you need to rest, sunshine,” he said as he gained his feet and before she could as much as protest, he had pulled her into his arms and winnowed, straight in front of her rooms. 

She glared at him, but he just ignored that as he opened the door to chivy her inside. 

“What am I even supposed to do?” Solana complained, swallowing back a yawn. 

“Take a nap. Rest. Read some. Pick out a dress to wear for Dinner,” Helion said easily.  

“High Lord!” Zia suddenly gasped and Solana looked up to find her handmaiden at the door of the bathing chamber, a towel falling to the floor that she had probably been stocking up. 

“Zia,” Solana said calmly, just as Helion leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead, his thumb gently smoothing over her cheek. 

“Rest. I’ll see you this evening,” he whispered, so quietly that only she could hear it. 

It made her shiver, as she watched him leave, closing the door behind him. 

“A bath, please,” she said weakly, as suddenly, the reality of her situation set in. 

She had said yes. She had agreed to marry Helion. She had agreed to be his wife. She had agreed to be the Lady of this Court. 

Somehow the latter was the one thing that worried her the least.  

Zia stared at her, still frozen in place. 

“Did he hurt you?” she asked Solana then, her voice flat. Zia had seen the evidence of nearly everything that Castor had done to her. Zia had snuck her Pain Relief Potions and had smeared Healing Salve over the worst injuries. 

“No, Zia,” Solana answered truthfully. 

Zia didn’t seem like she believed that, but still went and filled the bathtub and then helped Solana undress, mustering every inch of skin she bared, fully expecting new bruises to appear. 

“Helion would never do anything of that sort,” Solana said quietly. She was sure about it. She didn’t think Helion had it in him to ever raise his hand against her. He wouldn’t do anything of that sort. Not like Castor had done. 

No. 

With Helion…she was terrified of something else. Terrified of the fledgling feelings that she had, much different than the immediate, blinding besotted adoration she had felt for Castor thanks to the Mating Bond. 

With Helion…with Helion, her love for him had grown out of simple affection for him, his character and his personality. 

She knew him. 

None of his bed partners had ever taken any harm from his affections. 

So…maybe she wouldn’t either? Maybe it would be fine? 

He was willing to give her time. Willing to wait. 

That was more than she ever had before. 

She thought about it as Zia helped her into the bathtub and started washing her hair. 

“If he did…” Zia started quietly. “If he did, we would make sure he didn’t do it again.”

Solana had a sudden strike of affection for her handmaiden. 

“It warms my heart that you are thinking about committing treason for me, Zia, but I swear to you, Helion has not laid a single finger on me,” Solana said, with some affection. “We had a difficult conversation,” Solana admitted quietly, as she washed away the tear tracks on her cheek.  “These are just happy tears.”

“Happy tears,” Zia repeated as she started combing out Solana’s thick dark brown hair and she nodded.  Happy Tears. 

Very happy tears. “Has the new dress I had commissioned arrived yet?” Solana asked, mentally going through her wardrobe, trying to think of something suitable to wear to tonight’s dinner. She didn’t want to wear something she had already worn numerous times before…and she definitely was not going to wear anything blue, which was the colour of the house she had been born into. 

Yellow and Gold would be the obvious choice, of course, the colour of the house of Karim, of Helion’s family. 

But she would prefer something that was…new…without…

“The pink one with the gold embroidery around the waist?” Zia asked her and she nodded. “Yes, it has.”

The pink one would suit her well…it was sleeveless, made out of layers upon layers of gauzy fabrics in a rosy pink. Her waist would be cinched in by gold embroidery, which would also be picked up on the straps…maybe some dangly earrings... 

“I’ll wear it for dinner,” Solana decided as Zia started to wash out her hair. 

“Dinner,” Zia repeated. Granted it was a Friday, which would make today one of the more formal dinners in the Sunray Palace…not taken in private but in the dining hall, with staff and members of nobility that had places on the council. Still, that dress would still be considered over-dressed even for that. 

But…

“The High Lord has an announcement to make,” Solana said carefully and Zia’s motions stopped for a moment before she continued. 

“An announcement,” Zia repeated and Solana couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Will you repeat everything I say?” she asked her with some amusement and Zia wrapped her hair up in a towel, before meeting Solana’s gaze. 

“That kind of announcement?” Zia finally asked with a smile taking over her features and Solana’s blush was all the confirmation Zia needed. “Happy tears?” Zia confirmed once more and Solana nodded. 

“We aren’t finished with primping then,” her friend said with a grin. “I think the pink dress will do very well…There are some dahlias blooming, maybe some in your hair…”

She should have known that it would mean that Zia wouldn’t let her leave before every inch of her body was gleaming. Granted, she got to dose off, while Zia primped and plucked and massaged warm oil into her skin…until she smelled like roses and orange blossoms, and her hair was artfully arranged, fat dahlias tucked in around the twist that kept her hair up. 

Solana wasn’t even sure from where Zia got the gold shoes that matched her dress, as she tightened the laces of the bodice. Kohl lined Solana’s eyes, and gold shimmer dusted her skin. 

All in all, there had been balls she had attended into which she hadn’t put this much work. 

A knock at her door, just as they were finished pinning up her hair. 

“Come in!” she called, unsurprised when it was Helion.

“You can leave us, Zia,” Solana said quickly and her handmaiden shot her a wink before she left the room. 

“Did she stop thinking I would ravish you?” Helion asked with a bemused grin. “And left us along in a room, even though we are unmarried… Scandalous.”

“We’ll be scandalising this whole court anyway,” Solana said pointedly. “I do not think that us staying alone in a room will be any more shocking than what we will be doing soon.”

Even though it was her bedroom. And that Helion saying the word ravish was making the palms of her hand sweat. 

She stood and Helion held out a hand for her, which she took, linking their hands. “As always, you are correct,” he told her, drinking her in.  Even just that…just that simple touch of his hands in her was lighting something underneath her skin that she didn’t…that she couldn’t quite place. 

“You look beautiful,” he told her quietly, earnestly and she smiled at him, nearly not noticing the ring that he slid on her finger with ease. 

He lifted up her hand for her to look at the diamond that twinkled from her hand, surrounded by setting that made it look like a perfect, glittering mid-day sun. 

“A perfect fit,” Helion said, consideringly. “I did expect nothing else though,” he teased her, and she laughed, an unbelieving sound that escaped her throat at the feeling of this ring on her hand. 

Her old ring…it had felt like a shackle, so thick and heavy that it strangled her. This one was strangely light to wear…a beautiful ornament, nothing more or less. 

“Do you like it?” Helion asked her, nearly bashful and she smiled. 

“It’s beautiful,”  Solana promised him, reaching up with one hand to cup his cheek. He leaned into her touch.

“I brought you more jewellery…if you wanted to wear it,” he told her quietly, pressing his lips against the palm of her hand. She nodded her agreement with a smile, trusting his taste in jewellery. Whenever there was a formal occasion she had to attend on his arm, he went down into the vault and picked something for her to wear. 

It had surprised her the first time. Nowadays, she was used to it. 

Though, he had never picked something like this for her…something like the dangly earrings with suns that she slipped through her lobes…like that heavy necklace nestled in velvet. 

“Will you put it on me?” she asked him and he inclined her head, as she turned her back towards him.

The necklace came to rest against her chest, a fat diamond resting in the hollow of her throat…yellow gold spikes falling down to rest against her clavicles. 

It was beautiful. 

Though she couldn’t help the shiver as Helion’s fingers brushed against the back of her neck and then the quiet snick as the necklace closed and he pulled his hands back. She didn’t want him to pull back. She didn’t…

His thumb brushed down her biceps over her elbow…she couldn’t help the shiver that worked down her body. 

“Helion,” she whispered, craning her head, to look at him. 

“May I?” he asked her quietly and she swallowed. 

“Yes.”

His mouth lowered to her.

Solana had thought she knew how it would feel. What to expect. 

But this…this was completely different. This was…This was everything. This was weak knees and fireworks, shivers and goosebumps and everything else. This was just the softest brush of lips against hers. Nothing more. Nothing less. 

Just that. Soft and sweet and gentle and innocent and…

He pulled back from her and she couldn’t help but stare at Helion in wonder. 

One corner of his mouth ticked up in a smile. 

“Alright?” he asked quietly. 

She managed a nod. “Yes,”  she responded weakly. 

“Think you can live with being kissed like that every day?” Helion teased at her and Solana swallowed. Every day? Just this? 

“I…I think I can,” she agreed, making him smile. 

“Let’s go see Lucien and Elain before dinner,” Helion said easily and she grasped his arm as they left her room.

By the time, Elain had pounced on her in a fierce hug, her knees were at least no longer wobbling. “Congratulations!”  she gushed. “I am so glad it’s you!” Elain said brightly, catching her hand in both of hers. A second later, she did a double take. “Helion didn’t waste any time, did he?” she asked with a laugh as she spied the ring.  

“Why should I?” Helion gave back drily and Elain laughed as she let go of Solana, only to hand her off to Lucien. 

He hugged her too, less outwardly jubilant, but no less earnest. 

“I wish you two every happiness,” he said quietly, earnestly and she swallowed. To have him say that…even when he had every reason not to, with the history between his mother and Helion…it meant a lot to her. 

“Thank you, Lucien,” she said softly and he inclined his head.  

“There isn’t enough love in this world,” he told her seriously, and she couldn’t help but smile at that. 

“Ready to scandalise this whole court?” Helion asked her and her smile brightened into a grin.  

“Always,”  she promised him, taking his arm when he offered it to her. 

It wasn’t the first time she entered the Dining Hall on his arm…it wasn’t the first time he pulled out her chair for her and made sure that she was settled before sitting down on his own throne-like chair. 

It wasn’t even the first time he remained standing, waiting until the crowd quieted. 

And Solana surveyed the crowd, her eyes catching on her mother and her brother on one of the tables down the back of the room. 

Her eyes took in friends and acquaintances and foes…took in everybody that had seen the spectacle she had been once and had done nothing to help her. 

All of them would have something to say about their news. Some would be happy that Solana was chosen, others would be upset that it wasn’t their daughter who had snared the High Lord. She imagined others would be furious…

But as she leaned back into her chair, straight backed, her face betraying nothing…something inside her calmed. 

It didn’t matter what anybody thought. 

The only ones whose opinion really mattered already knew. 

She could feel Helion’s gaze on hers and she turned her head towards him, meeting his eye. A minute quirk of a brow, Are you sure?, and a brilliant smile of hers in response, Yes. 

He turned towards their Court. 

Their Court. 

“Two bits of news tonight,” Helion said, his voice effortlessly carrying through the cavernous space. “After 3000 years, Meallan and his mate, Clodagh, have gifted us with another foal. A filly named Niamh.”

Applause and cheers rang out, with Solana clapping politely as well. 

“Secondly,” Helion paused for a moment, dramatic as ever and Solana bit back her amusement. “Secondly. I have decided that it is time for me to take a wife.”

The hall was quiet enough that one could have heard a pin drop. Solana silently picked out the males who were already planning on offering up their granddaughter daughter or sister to Helion on a silver platter. The ones that would think that marrying off a female in their lives would give them access to the very top of the Day Court.  

“Has he gone insane?” she heard Rupert, Helion’s second in command, hiss, from somewhere to her right. 

“I have asked for Lady Solana’s hand in marriage and she made me the happiest male in this court when she accepted,” Helion’s voice rang out, even and true, for one moment freezing every single member of the court. Maybe she should have looked back down the hall and seen what her mother and brother would think about this, but Solana could not care less at that moment. The only thing she cared about was Helion, who held out his hand for her to take. 

She took it. 

“My future wife and the Lady of the Day Court!”

The reaction was immediate.

Cheering broke out from the servants' table, so loud that it drowned out anything else.

Solana felt the weight of hundreds of pairs of eyes upon her, judging, questioning, and speculating.

The nobles were shocked. She had expected no less, so there were more smiles and applause than what she had counted on.

Some smiled, some smiles even earnest and believable. Some smiles were polite, clapping…hiding their distaste, offering their congratulations through gritted teeth. Others scowled openly, offended by the unexpected turn of events. Solana could practically hear the cogs turning in their minds, calculating the implications of this marriage on their own positions within the court.

But amid the chaos…Solana’s focus remained unwaveringly on Helion. On his hand in hers…warm and stead, a grounding presence amid the chaos around them.

As long as they were together…they could withstand anything. 

Solana had found her Happily Ever After, after all. 

[eldritch-spouse]

https://www.tumblr.com/eldritch-spouse/746604785112940545/how-would-the-tce-boys-hold-up-in-a-zombie

The Morell one unsettled me fr fr 💀

I like to imagine meeting Santi in a zombie apocalypse though. You aren’t sure of him at first but then you get cornered by some zombies and after he helps you out you accept his offer

Out of all the things you expected to find in the midst of a zombie apocalypse, an incubus is the last one.

Since their method of feeding involves being so close to others, and body fluids, they were a major factor in the propagation of the infection, and also some of the first to succumb to it.

So really, your poor brain is doing cartwheels in your skull trying to understand how not only did you spot a living high-ranking incubus, but said demon also saved you from a considerable horde of zombies.

Santi, he introduced himself as soon as the two of you aren't covered in rotten blood, and he was clearly malnourished. Dim eyes, bags under them and somewhat gaunt cheeks, a sickly sort of hue to his skin. His smile had too much teeth to it and his gaze was too predatory no matter how hard he tried to conceal it.

The demon would try to act charming, but the hunger merely being near you would induce had him snorting at the air and salivating as if you were seasoned steak on a platter. You knew what he wanted, just as you do now. Even if Santi had tried to be gentlemanly and claim that he helped you without expecting anything in return, it was no secret those words were only meant to endear him to you enough to consider sex.

He must be too weakened to be using pheromones, because you only ever experience small waves of arousal next to him. They last little and can be ignored with some effort. His mostly futile and tentative attempts to be subtle, to coax you, ruined by his instinctive anticipation.

You knew one day he could just decide to throw you to the ground and fuck the daylights out of you. That he was dangerous, less so than the zombies, but there was still the fear that he would savagely hurt you in his hunger.

Nights ago, you woke up with the sound of him tearing wildy into a group of zombies, frustrated by the inability to gain minimal energy from using their bodies. You think you might have heard him sob then, and in that moment, you could only imagine how such constant starvation must be driving him insane.

He can die soon.

Because, while you can find a can of beans somewhere and be satisfied for a while, Santi can only do the human equivalent of scraping the hints of sugar off candy wrapper.

And that thought scared you immensely. The incubus had been your most reliable source of protection thus far, losing him would mean going back to that permanent dread, that hopelessness, the slow madness of being alone for extended periods of time. But every single day, your hellish guardian grew weaker.

And a part of you thinks the incubus might be fond of you, to not just outright assault you and keep denying his survival drives.

More than merely fond, but that's a can of worms neither of you want to open.

Tonight, you've been awoken again.

The sensation of something wet trailing bare skin had you shivering to awareness, and now you're face to face with the demon. His tongue drooling across your inner thigh, eyes glazed, sweat glistening on his face and a fat cock throbbing between taught legs.

" Please... " He begged, long devoid of any attempt to charm. " Please... "

And it'd be selfish of you not to, right?

He saved your life.

You should save his.

[jimin-of-mine]

~ A visit from you, in one of our sacred places within the safety of the astral realm and a precognition of what is to come for us ~

Crossing my legs, I sit comfortably in the sand and Jimin follows suit, even though there's a questioning look on his face and I can feel the ocean spray me- as it gently pulls itself up to the shoreline that we are sitting exceptionally close to.

Breathing in the night air that surrounds us, I exhale slowly and look around at the darkness that slips back into the clearing of the beach.

Sighing softly to myself as Jimin situates himself in the softness of the sand, I'm tempted to lay back and take it all in- but I restrain myself.

I'm not here to fool around.

I want to say something to him, after everything that has happened as of late ~

Taking a deep breath, I can feel his eyes on me and usually such a thing would make me uncomfortable- but Jimin isn't like most people and he's always been different.

Reaching out, I can feel my emotions getting the best of me for some reason and I am overwhelmed with so much happiness right now.

Things may not be how I want them to be quite yet, and it may be taking its sweet time to do anything at all- but where are we at right now? It's alright.

I can finally say that we're okay and I know this won't be the end of it, because evil lurks around every corner where he is staying- but things are much better than they were and I managed to finally do something for him.

It's taken me thousands of years to be able to finally do such a task that should have been easy- alas, now that I have finally been blessed with being allowed to give something back to him- I feel like I'm shining brighter than I ever have.

'Saving him' and bringing him back home, it made me realize many things and more than ever, it showed me how utterly committed I am to him.

I tirelessly worked myself to do what needed to be done and it just so happens that I managed to do more than I had planned to- since the dream in the astral realm was a pleasant surprise to say the least.

After so long, I have been able to accomplish one of the tasks I was first given to him and he's finally free from years of torment and grief and I am the one who delivered him to his own grace and I take pride in that.

It's not something I will boast about though, for I am happy enough just knowing I played such a large role in helping him and I will continue to do so quietly.

------------------------------

Pulling Jimin's fingers to my lips, I kiss each one at the tips and I choke back a sob as my emotions grow more turbulent. "There's no words on this Earth that could ever possibly describe what you mean to me and I often struggle when I try to think too hard on it. All I know is that I want nothing more than to see you living your best life and I would be honored if you would accept me as being a part of that."

Jimin's features grow anxious and I can tell that I am making him uncomfortable, so I pull away from him quickly, before swallowing the lump in my throat.

"All I ask of you is to give me one chance..." Whispering the words, tears trickle down the sides of my face and my heart feels so heavy by now- but I force down the pain and shake my head, bearing it as I can feel it split apart.

"It will take some time, but I'm willing to work up to whatever you want me to be- whatever you need me to be in your life, Jimin- I'm here for whatever that may be and I have never left you alone. This much I am sure you must know, but I know that you have been hurt quite deeply and I will respect whatever you choose for yourself."

He hasn't even said anything and yet I can feel my world crumbling around me, because I fear that he may not give me the chance that I so desperately need and I know that my life will be meaningless if he rejects me outright.

This is the downside of loving someone for as long as I have and regardless of whether it becomes a burden to me in the future, I will never regret choosing him and I will continue to do so- even if all that is left of my heart is battered and broken pieces of what it used to be.

He will always be my Jimin, even if he doesn't choose me in the way that I crave for him to- and I won't let something so trivial as these emotions from my ego- to put me into a position where I risk everything.

----------------------

"Am I being too forward? I-I'm sorry...I never wanted to disrespect you-" Jimin has gone quiet and it's making me anxious, but just as I am about to pull myself from the sand, I can feel his hand on my wrist and my heart falls silent. As does the pain that had once left it tormented and barely beating only moments before.

Blinking back tears, this is what I hate the most, because my body knows how it can't live without him and I fear what could happen if he chooses to cut ties with me completely...

it would kill me, in body and heart to do it- but if me leaving was truly what was best for him, then I would do it.

"I have no idea what's going on up in that head of yours, Elizabeth- you're making it sound like I don't want you here..."

Blinking once again, I look at him with a surprised expression on my face and before I know what is happening, Jimin pulls me into his arms. Wrapping his arms around my entire body, I can feel every worry, every anxious thought leave me and I fall apart in mere seconds.

Breaking down, I choke back a sob and push my face into the nape of his neck.

Feeling his warmth for the first time like this, I am overwhelmed with so much emotion that I can't keep it hidden and loud sobs can be heard as they pull themselves from deep within my throat.

It took me almost an entire lifetime, but I'm finally back home and it was well worth the wait.

He has been worth every single minute of pain that I have been forced to endure and I would do it all again for him in a heartbeat if I had to.

My Jimin, I'm so glad that you waited for me...

[whump-in-the-closet]

Drabble prompt? A whumpee that went from sarcastic to silent. And then finally raw, ridiculous rage.

OH HELL YEA

cw: whumpee-turned-whumper, whumper-turned-whumpee, creepy whumper, mentions of past torture, current torture, electric baton is used (idk what its called), dehumanization, whumpee is muzzled, defiant whumpee, captivity whump

Day 1.

Whumpee relaxed against the wall as much as they could, shoulder blades aching with the dull pressure building up between them. Their wrists were pinned to the blank-white wall above their head.

Whumper looked them over, mouth set in a knife-thin line. They studied Whumpee, and they felt their skin crawl.

They were an insect pinned to a corkboard.

No. They refused this identity. They refused outright and wholeheartedly, nauseous at the thought of becoming something other than themself.

"Like what you see?" Whumpee tilted their head to the side, strands of hair falling across their face. They forced a smile-- I'd bite you if I could.

Whumper crouched down. "I've waited a long time for this, old friend." He spat the word out like a curse.

"I know you missed me just so, so much." Whumpee strained against their chains until their face was inches away from Whumper. "Didn't you?"

Whumpee saw something flash in Whumper's dark eyes--pain, terror-- and then it was gone. Delicate scars peeked out from Whumper's turtleneck and out his shirt sleeves, faded but ever-present.

Whumper placed a hand on Whumpee's cheek, running a thumb over their lips. He smiled, vicious and sharp.

And the only answer Whumpee received was a backhanded slap. Their head cracked against the wall. Stars and bright colors flashed before them, burning their vision with stark whiteness. Copper filled their mouth, just as roaring filled their ears. 

They saw double. Two bright lights. Two walls of tiled white. Two of Whumper, with two leather jackets and too many rings to count. When their vision refocused, Whumper was standing again, twirling something in his hands.

Something that zapped and glittered blue at its tip.

"Aw, Whumper, trying to be something you're not?" Whumpee coughed out. The side of their face burned.

Whumper snarled, raising the electric baton. He jabbed Whumpee in the ribs.

Whumpee inhaled sharply-- white, white, white-- behind their eyes. Bright agony everywhere, ingrained in their bones. They couldn't breathe.

Whumper hit them again. And again. And again. "I'm going to ruin you, like you--" Another harsh zap. "Like you ruined me."

Day 7.

Whumpee didn't look up when Whumper walked into the room.

Their throat ached and their tongue felt like cardboard inside their mouth. They swallowed, nervous, and tasted iron.

Whumper whistled. "Eyes on me, Whumpee."

Whumpee groaned.

Can't.

One eye was swollen shut, the other blackened and purple. Where had Whumper learned to punch like that? Without holding back?

They shuddered.

Whumper kicked them. "C'mon," they teased. "No comeback? No wiseass response?"

Whumpee's vision blurred. They couldn't lift their neck to look up, even if they wanted to.

"Pathetic," laughed Whumper. "God, you're nothing. I can't believe I was ever scared of you."

Whumpee's ears rang.

Pathetic.

Yeah. That sounded about right.

Whumper grabbed their face with rough hands.

Whumpee tried to pull away, but Whumper slammed the back of their head into the wall-- fuck-- until they fell still.

Horror became a reality. 

Something hard was shoved between their teeth. Leather fitted over their face, straps tightening around their head, cinching it in place. 

And it was over. 

And it was only just beginning. 

Whumpee gagged. 

Their mouth tasted disgusting. 

They went numb. They didn’t want to feel that disgusting thing in their mouth. 

God. 

In their mouth? 

This. 

This was too much. 

They couldn’t take it.

Muzzled. 

The burning threatened to turn into sobs. Leather over their mouth and in their nose and in every part of them. Eating at them. Sticky blood dripped down the side of their face, smeared into their hair and skin.

They couldn’t breathe. 

Kill me. 

Please. Humiliation flooded every fiber of their being. Please.

And Whumper laughed, stroking the top of their head. "Not so tough now, huh?"

Whumpee closed their eyes, breaths coming in short, ragged gasps, like each and everyone would be their last.

Day 15.

When Whumpee was conscious, they were aching.

At some point, they had thrown aside their dignity and become something else entirely. Biting and hurting and-- oh god, everything throbbed with that furious agony that had been the only constant in this white room, now splattered with dried blood stains.

Whumper entered the room whistling. He glanced at Whumpee, helpless and weak, with the bruises from the muzzle straps still on their face.

Whumpee kept very, very still.

Not scared. Not scared not scared not--

"I never heard you say thank you for taking the muzzle off yesterday."

Whumpee clenched their hands into fists until their nails bit into their palms and drew blood. The bright crimson blood cleared their mind.

Not scared--

--Not pathetic--

They waited.

Very still.

Very quiet.

Whumper wrenched Whumpee's chin upwards. 

Not pathetic--

Whumpee, eyes wild, snarled. But their voice was raw. "Fuck-- fuck you."

Whumper had long stopped seeing Whumpee as a threat. He lightly traced a finger down Whumpee's throat. Whumpee seethed, trying and failing to twist away. They flushed fever red at the treatment.

"Say, thank you." Whumper reeked of alcohol and expensive cologne.

Something twisted inside Whumpee and they saw red.

Whumper sighed in seeming disappointment. He ran a thumb lightly over Whumpee's bleeding lips. 

Whumpee visibly shuddered. And then bit down. 

Hard. With all the strength they had left in their body.

They spat blood out. Not their own. A feral light filled their eyes– they didn’t look quite human– bruised but undefeated. Wild. They yanked against their chains until the metal broke the skin, and they did not even stop then.

"Fucker-- Let me go! You-- you--" they yanked again, and again, trying to get at Whumper. "When I get my hands on you, you'll-- you'll be begging, do you hear me? Fucking begging!"

Whumper stumbled back and his expression darkened. "What is wrong with you?" He clutched his injured hand close to his chest. "By the time I'm done with you, you'll be the one begging.” Not a threat, a promise.

Whumpee was past caring. They thrashed against the chains. More than anything in the world, they wanted to get their hands around Whumper's throat. They wanted to destroy him.

[jflemings]

— let the light in [p2]

pairing: jessie fleming x reader part 1, part 3

synopsis: jessie’s point of view

warnings: angsty as fuck lol, mentions of depression & it’s symptoms

jessie had never been more furious and sad at the same time. watching you walk out of her place with a bag containing your things slung over your shoulder after she had pleaded with you to let her help, was one of the most heartbreaking things she’s ever had to go through.

despite your reluctance to tell her, she knew what you were going through. she guessed that you weren’t maybe telling her the whole truth about how you were really feeling and she made it her mission to help in any way you would let her. she spoke with chelsea’s psychologist about how to help you, you read self-help books and read articles upon articles but you were slipping faster than she could reach for you.

“maybe it’s for the best” niamh says gently, rubbing her hand up and down jessie’s back soothingly.

the canadian stands abruptly “no! god no, niamh, don’t you get it? she’s sick — really fucking sick — and she won’t let me help!” jessie confides as tears begin to flood her waterline “i just want to help. all i’ve ever wanted was to help”

niamh’s face cracks with guilt and sorrow. she’d watched the guilt eat her friend alive for too long now, never quite understanding why she stayed with you for so long. even when questioned, jessie kept her cards close to her chest. her teammates saw her go in and out of the psychologist’s office, look up easy to make but nutritious recipes, skim through articles about how to love someone with depression, but never had she outright said that something was wrong.

“jess you can’t help someone that doesn’t want to be helped” niamh points out delicately “and you can’t make her open up to you if she doesn’t want to”

jessie sighs and sits back down on the couch with head head placed firmly in her hands “i don’t understand what i’ve done wrong. i don’t understand why she won’t just talk to me”

niamh grabs jessie and guides her to her chest as she cries, her tears soaking the front of the lioness’s jumper. the canadian’s hands clutch at the soft fabric and she burrows her face into niamh’s grounding embrace “i’m so worried about her” she sobs harder “she– she lives alone and there’s no one to look out for her, or to make sure she’s taking care of herself”

“jessie it’s not your responsibility to baby her. she’s an adult” niamh says “why didn’t you tell us?”

“because you were all telling me to leave her!” jessie loudly exclaims, pulling herself up “every single one of you told me that it wasn’t worth it, that i deserve better”

the midfielder’s face is red and blotchy, tears cascading down her freckled cheeks as she further works herself up. “there is nothing i wouldn’t do for her, niamh, i’ve never loved someone the way i love her”

— —

when jessie tries to call you to tell you she’s coming to collect her things, it goes straight to voicemail. she gets left on read when she texts you but that’s better than nothing so she takes it as the small win it is and gets dressed in a hoodie of hers you like and a pair of jeans she plucks off the top of her clean laundry. nerves settle in the bottom of her stomach on the drive over and only get worse when she takes the elevator to your floor. there’s a brown box outside your door with her name written on it in bold, black permanent marker and she frowns.

the thought of not actually seeing you after she’s been making herself sick with worry causes her to pause. on one hand, you aren’t responding so she doesn’t even know if you’re alright, but on the other there’s a box at her feet with her stuff in it, so at the very least jessie knows you’re conscious. she nervously bites the skin around the thumbnail before knocking on your door three times and waiting, bouncing on the balls of her feet anxiously before stopping in fear that you’re looking at her through the peephole.

to her disappointment, you don’t come to the door. she picks up her belongings carefully and hangs her head low, trying not to be too disappointed. she runs into one of your neighbours that she’s met a few times when she’s had to leave early for training and sends her a kind smile.

the older woman notices the box in jessie’s hands and frowns “i was wonderin’ why i haven’t been seein’ you around lately” she says in her thick northern accent.

jessie hums “yeah it’s uhh… it’s a bit different” she cringes at herself, stepping aside so the older woman — shelley, she remembers — can get onto the elevator before her. shelley tuts and pushes her glasses up her nose as they fall.

“i hope it all works out for ya, she’s a sweet girl. a bit lost, maybe, but sweet”

all jessie can do is nod as the elevator stops two floors below your own “i’m about to beat caroline’s ass in cards” shelley grins cheekily as she steps out “bye jessie”

the canadian lifts her knee to steady the box whilst she takes one hand out from underneath it to offer a polite wave “bye shelley” she says as she watches the doors close on her again.

the drive back to her apartment feels slower then it actually it. worry clouds jessie’s mind like a plague, the thought of you wasting away, alone and in your apartment making her sick.

through your relationship she really tried to show you how much she adored you. whether it was bringing you lunch when you were at work, buying a bouquet of ‘just because’ flowers or simply just telling you how much she loved you.

it was one of her favourite things, telling you she loved you. she had uncharacteristically said it first one day when you dropped off her boots to her at training when she had forgotten them, giving you a kiss quickly before running off to avoid being late. that night the two of you were sitting on her couch eating dinner and watching trashy reality tv when you quietly asked her about it.

“penny for your thoughts?” jessie asks you as she watches you stare off into space.

you quickly snap out of your daze and shake your head “it’s nothing”

she knocks your shoulders together “c’mon, what’s up?”

nervously, you move the food on your pate around with your fork aimlessly. you can’t look jessie in the eye and out of worry, she places her dinner on the coffee table and sits up straighter “are you okay?”

you suck in a deep breath “when you, uhm… when you told me you loved me today, did you mean that?”

jessie’s brain short circuits and she thinks back to when she saw you this morning. her confession makes the blood rush to her cheeks and she nervously plays with the hem of her old ucla shirt.

she sees the way you’re still avoiding her gaze and places her hand over yours, stopping you from playing with your meal. you look at her with tight lips and wide eyes as you await her answer, your leg bouncing like you’re ready to bolt.

“of course i meant it” she assures softly, placing her hand on your cheek “it slipped out, yeah, but i meant it all the same”

you nod and slightly turn away from her, placing your own dinner on the coffee table next to hers. your lack of reaction begins to make jessie nervous. was it too soon? did you feel the same? has she just made it awkward?

“you don’t have to say it back!” the midfielder rushes “if you don’t feel the same you absolutely do not have to say it back. i would never expect you to if—”

“i love you” you mumble, cutting off her rambling.

jessie’s heart beats out of her chest and her head spins so much she’s dizzy. you were relatively affectionate and you had no problem dishing out compliments and praise, but there were times when you couldn’t really receive it.

the canadian softly smiles and immediately wraps her arms around you, hiding her face in the crook of your neck and she pulls you into her. you giggle as she falls back into the couch, the wide smile on your face everlasting.

“i love you” jessie mumbles back to you “so much”

——

jessie sighs at hearing the knocking from her front door. not only was she not in the mood to see anyone, she was kind of hoping to spend the rest of her day off cuddled up on her couch with the book she’s been meaning to finish. she stays where she is for a moment to see if whoever it is will go away, only to get four more louder knocks in return.

she throws the blanket off herself and shivers as her bare feet hit the cold floor. she all but throws open the door with a frown on her face, quickly being surprised by a woman she doesn’t recognise standing in front of her. she adjusts the strap of her purse on her shoulder and shifts her weight between her feet slightly.

“jessie fleming?” she asks

the canadian nods “yeah. can i help you?”

the brunette woman sighs with relief “i’m casey taylor, i work with y/n”

dread crashes over jessie and her hand tightens on the doorknob. “do you want to come in?” she asks stepping aside.

casey puts her hand up in protest “no i was just wondering if you’ve seen her lately? i know you two are—”

“we broke up” she interjects quickly “but she wasn’t too good the last time i saw her”

casey purses her lips and nods her head “right. okay. sorry for just turning up like this” she pauses in contemplation. “it’s just that i didn’t have your number and i only have your address because i had to pick y/n up from here once” she rushes, clearly recognising how weird the situation is.

jessie nods as she recalls the memory of the two of you standing on the street, her dressed in ratty old pyjamas and you dressed in your work slacks and knitted sweater. you had been running around jessie’s apartment half dressed whilst simultaneously brushing your teeth and doing your hair absolutely stressed out of your mind. jessie simply watched you run around as she packed you lunch and ironed your shirt, the feeling of domestic bliss lasting well until after you had kissed her quickly and rushed out her front door.

casey clicks her tongue “that’s all good though! i’ll just get going” the brunette turns to walk away, her kitten heels clicking on the pavement underneath her.

“casey!” jessie calls once she gets her wits about her, shaking the memory and following the woman down to her car “you didn’t come all the way here to just ask if i’ve seen her. what’s going on?”

“…we’re just worried. she’s out of sick leave and my boss wants to call the police to do a welfare check but i told her that i’d come to you first” she hesitates, fidgeting with her key chain in her hand “it’s not been this bad before” casey mumbles.

the midfielder sucks in a breath as her stomach drops. the out of character behaviour from you stirs something deep in her and she furrows her brows “i’ll go see her” she says before thinking “just let me… just let me see if i can talk to her, okay?”

casey’s reluctance is written all over her face but she must see something in jessie’s eyes that has her softening. she continues to fiddle with her keys before looking at her watch and then back to jess “okay” she says before fishing a pen and piece of paper out of her purse “please call me and let me know how she is, or get her to call me” she pleads whilst scribbling down her number.

jessie nods “of course i will”

[ladykailitha]

Never Hold Back Your Step... Part 15

So... just one more chapter to go. I've experienced a wide range of emotions with this fic and to be honest, I'm grateful it's nearing the end.

I still will do the final book, just not sure when. As always keep an on the #boy with a bat, tag.

We finally get the moment you've all be waiting for. Robin and Steve on the floor of the bathroom.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

~

Eddie spotted the Russians in military gear first. Two beefy guys with huge fucking guns and looks that would absolutely kill. Then he spotted two little blue sailors ducking into the theater. As far as he could tell, the soldier boys were looking for his friends, which meant the little idiots found their secret base.

“Found him,” Eddie hissed into the walkie talkie. “Only there are bad people looking for him. Please advise. Over.”

“You two together?”

“That’s a negative,” Eddie whispered. “Subject has ducked into the theater and the two bogies are in the food court and little ole me am stuck in the middle.”

“Is there a way you can lead them away from Steve without putting you in danger?”

Eddie chewed on his lip a moment and then said, “I don’t think so.” His lip quivered and a little sob escaped.

“Hey, hey,” Wayne said soothingly. “It’s going to be fine. I want you safe just as much as I want Steve safe, all right?”

Eddie breathed in deep and then let out a shuddering breath. “Yeah, I’m really worried now. Even though I’ve seen him, it’s somehow worse than not knowing.”

“It only feels that way now,” Wayne murmured gently. “Just keep an eye out for both our boy and those Russkis, you hear?”

“Yes, sir!” Eddie replied weakly.

“I found out our beloved chef of police hasn’t been in town for the past couple of days either,” Wayne said, his tone grave.

“Shit!” he hissed. “This is beginning to look like an actual fucking conspiracy and I hate those.”

“I’m heading to the Sinclairs next,” Wayne said, “There has to be something–” there was the screeching of tires and then, “Holy fuck. I nearly ran over the younger Byers boy and the Sinclair kid. It doesn’t look good, Ed. They look like they’re gearing up for war.”

“Get them here as quick as possible,” Eddie said, “I have a feeling that what those shitheads are up to, it has to do with what’s going on here.”

~

Wayne let out a long piercing whistle got all the kids attention. “You need to get to the mall, I can get you there faster than on foot.”

“Excuse me, sir,” Lucas said politely, “I don’t think you want to be involved in this.”

Wayne scoffed. “Look kid, I’ve see a lot of horrible shit in my time, and I don’t know much, but I do know that Steve is in trouble and you guys are the only ones who can help him. So maybe cut the bullshit and get in the god damn truck.”

They all looked at each other and then nodded.

Mike pointed to El. “She’s hurt, can you help me get her in the truck?”

Wayne immediately hopped out of the truck and walked over to her. “I’m guessing any suggestion to take her to the hospital would met with resistance if not outright hostility?”

El and Mike looked at each other for a moment before El said. “I like him.”

Wayne laughed and bent down to pick her up. “I’m going to lay her on the back of the bed of the truck, you can stay with her if you like.”

Mike nodded and hopped up to the truck to help him get her situated. Once he was sure they were comfortable he hopped back into the driver’s side.

“Um...” Will said nervously, “how did you know they were at the mall? Dustin just contacted us, we just found out.” He left out the part that El had read Dustin’s mind to find out he was there.

Wayne glanced at him sidelong. “Your answer is on the other end of that walkie talkie.”

As if on cue the walkie talkie squawked to life. “Uncle Wayne, I just spotted the subjects going into the bathrooms by the theater and the bogies have moved off past the carousel. I’m going to make contact.”

Wayne grabbed the walkie talkie. “Sounds good, Ed. I have the sheep and am on my way back to the mall.”

“Eddie!” Will exclaimed excitedly.

“Baby Byers!” Eddie cried back. “I’m guessing things are freakier than Russians under the mall.”

Will went on to explain what was happening in town and what the plan was.

“Yeah, that’s pretty freaky,” Eddie said solemnly. “But between you and me we can deal with freaky, right?”

Will smiled and Wayne fought down a smile of his own. It was good to see his boy make Will feel better about the situation around his disappearance. Will had been called a freak a lot after that, and that was what they called Eddie too. But Eddie learned to own up the moniker and now he was helping Will feel the same.

~

God Steve hated puking. It was the worst. Right after concussions and being told by your very drunk girlfriend that she never loved you.

“Let’s see if the drug is still in us,” Robin suggested, leaning up against the wall.

Steve slid under the stall wall and into hers. He looked at her and breathed a sigh of relief. She was shaken but unharmed.

“When was the last time you peed your pants?” he asked, going for silly instead of trauma mining or secret finding.

“Today,” she admitted and then let out a gasp. “Yup! It’s still in there.” She covered her mouth with a giggle.

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Wait, what? You peed your pants today?”

Robin held up her finger and her thumb and put them close together. “Just a little. When they were interrogating you.”

That made sense he supposed, with a wince. He was pretty terrified himself. He nodded and then waved at her to ask him something.

Her expression got soft. “Have you ever been in love?”

Steve was little surprised by the answer if he was honest. Which considering the drug running through his veins, he had to be.

“Twice,” he admitted softly. “The first was Nancy Wheeler.” It actually physically hurt to say that. He had loved her. Despite what she thought about her cheating and his sexuality.

“Seriously?” Robin said with a laugh. “Miss Priss?”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Turns out, not so much.”

She was fierce and tenacious and everything Steve wished he could be, but wasn’t.

“The other is this most amazing, weird, talented person imaginable,” he muttered. “I never thought I’d fall for them, but fuck I thank whoever every day that I did. I wouldn’t be the person I am today without their support.”

“Steve...” Robin muttered. “I appreciate it, but if you really knew me, you wouldn’t like the person I am.”

Steve blinked at her for a second and then tilted his head. “Huh?”

“There was a reason I was so mad at you when you first started working at Scoops,” she murmured. “Last year in Mrs. Click’s history class. You would come in late, make a mess of the stupid bagel you ate, and all the while, she was looking at you instead of me.”

“Who? Mrs. Click?”

“No!” Robin huffed, kicking her foot against the toilet. “Tammy Thompson. She was looking at your stupid hair and your stupid smile and I would just go home and scream into my pillow.”

Steve blinked for a moment and then burst out laughing. “You thought I was talking about you?” He laughed again. “God, I thought I had terrible taste! Tammy Thompson is a dud.”

Robin’s mouth dropped in shock. “No she’s not. She’s going places. She can sing.”

“No she can’t,” Steve teased and broke out into song.

“You sound like a Muppet!” she hissed, kicking at his thigh instead.

Steve snapped his fingers. “Yes! That’s it she sings like a Muppet!”

She burst out laughing again. “All right dingus, if you weren’t talking about me, who were you talking about?”

Steve picked at his nails for a moment. “Eddie Munson.”

Robin’s eyes went wide and her jaw dropped. “If we weren’t under the stupid truth serum, I would tell you to fuck off. Are you gay?”

“Yeah,” he said not looking up from his nails. “He was so kind to me after the whole shit with Hargrove and Nancy and he just makes me feel like a full person again. And he knows about all this bullshit, too. Because I told him.”

“So you and Eddie, huh?” she asked softly.

Steve nodded again.

Just then the door to the bathroom swung open and standing behind Dustin and Erica was Eddie.

“Hey, darlin’,” Eddie said, leaning against the door frame. “We’ve really got to stop meeting like this.”

Steve blinked up at him with a dopey smile. “Like what?”

“You puking your guts out.”

Steve’s smile broke out into a wide grin.

~

Eddie blinked at the flying car. Of all the things that he’d heard about, that was definitely not one he ever thought he would ever see. Not that he was complaining about the rescue. Of course not, that would be rude. And Uncle Wayne did not a raise him to be rude.

Then Super-girl collapsed in pain and a wiggling, squirming thing could be seen under her skin. Jonathan bent down and was going to cut it out but his hands were shaking too bad.

“Out of the way,” Eddie bit out. He grabbed the knife and pushed Jonathan to the ground. He turned to the brave girl. “You ready?”

She nodded once.

With the flick of his wrist the thing burst from her skin landing a couple of feet from them. Thankfully the opposite direction Jonathan had fallen but still gross.

Eddie turned green and scrambled to get away. Everyone else froze at the sight of the thing as it tried to get to El again.

BANG!

Eddie looked up to see Wayne with the rifle and Hopper and Joyce flanking him, with a small weaselly looking guy, peering around Joyce.

“Jane!” Hopper cried and ran to her.

She held him close and whispered, “Why didn’t you kill it?”

Hopper chuckled and turned to face Wayne and Joyce. Then he turned back to her. “I’m a good shot, sweetheart, but Wayne is the best and there were just too many people around and I didn’t want to hurt no one.”

El thought about it for a moment. “Thank you.”

Wayne nodded slowly and lowered the rifle.

Everyone filled everyone else in. Mind Flayers were real. Cool. Cool, cool, cool. And by cool he absolutely meant terrifying.

Dustin and Erica offered to show Joyce and Hopper to the Russian base.

Hopper looked down at Dustin with the absolute despair of an adult who knows the answer to the question but absolutely has to ask it anyway.

“Why does it have to be you and Erica and not Steve and the other girl?” he asked after drawing his hands down his face.

“Because Robin, that’s the girl by the way,” Dustin said cheerfully, “were drugged and really don’t remember anything about how we got out.”

Hopper lifted his eyes skyward and put his hands on his hips, pursing his lips. Yup. That was the answer he thought he was going to get.

Murray stepped up. “You can do it through a walkie talkie kid,” and handed him his. “I’m not going to let a couple of eight year olds walk into that mess. Especially now that we know what’s going on.”

“I’m eleven you bald headed freak,” Erica sassed back, hands on her hips.

“Besides,” Dustin said, looking smug as hell, “we know walkie talkies don’t work beyond a certain point so they would be absolutely useless.”

“Yeah,” Erica agreed. “We only went down in the elevator and the walkies wouldn’t work.”

Dustin rubbed his hands together. “What you need is someone who has seen their com room, has a communications tower big enough to get to you below the mall, and knows the way there.”

“Oh wait,” he said with a smug grin. “You have me!”

Eddie and Steve shared a glance and they both rolled their eyes as Hopper ran his hands over his face again.

“We’ll need a head start,” he said ignoring all the groans around him. “And a car.”

Steve held up his hands. “Don’t look at me, the Russians took my keys.”

Hopper shook his head. “Now that we know it’s Billy, your car would stand out too much.”

“I’ve got my van,” Eddie said, raising his hand.

Hopper scratched his chin. “And do you think that Billy would recognize it?”

Max scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah...”

“Do I want to know?” Hopper asked with a raised eyebrow.

Max opened her mouth to reply but Eddie cut her off with a hard, “No.”

Hopper looked Eddie up and down and then nodded. “Right, you’ll take the car I ‘borrowed’ instead.”

He tossed the keys to Steve who caught it one handed.

Everyone went their separate ways, with the five of them, Robin, Steve, Eddie, Erica, and Dustin, heading out to find this car.

Steve threw out his arms and sighed. “This is more like it.”

It was a suped up yellow hot rod convertible with the vanity plate of TODFTHR

Robin raised an eyebrow and sneered, “The Todd Father?”

“Steve’s her daddy now,” he purred.

Eddie started laughing. “Honey, we aren’t playing who’s your daddy right now, but we are sooo going to talk about that later.”

“What does that even mean?” Dustin asked, scrunching up his nose.

Eddie grabbed the keys out Steve’s hands.

“You probably have a concussion and at least double vision,” he huffed before Steve could protest, “I’m driving.”

Steve sighed and let him take the keys.

“Back seat, Buckley,” Eddie huffed, sliding into the car as Erica got in and Dustin hopped over the door.

She rolled her eyes but did as she was told, sliding next to Erica as Steve hopped into the passenger seat.

~

Part 16

Tag List: THREE SLOTS REMAINING

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @blondie1006

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @angels-of-hades

7- @mugloversonly @y4r3luv @greeniebean911 @birbsauce @acingthecounts

8- @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars @ravenfrog @dreamercec @sadisticaltarts

9- @clockworkballerina @bluelightsinthevoid @blcksh33p1987 @i-go-pink-in-the-night @mamafaithful

10- @w1ll0wtr33 @samsoble

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for talking about my fights with my partner with other people?

I (18M) and my partner (17NB) have been together for a couple of years now. Like most couples, we've had our fair share of fights, some of them very serious. I have a problem with paranoia over if I'm doing the right thing or not, because I have trouble understanding right and wrong unless I've been through a situation myself or had the morality of it very heavily explained to me. Because of this, during several of our heavier fights, I would go to people that I trusted and show them the conversation from beginning to end through screenshots (me and my partner are long distance at the moment, so most of our fights have been over text), and ask them if I was alright or I was being a dick.

However, over time, this caused most of the people I was close to to hate my partner. Several of them believed my partner was abusive or at least toxic because of the fights they saw, and at least one was outright violently angry towards them, publicly making a post about wanting to hurt them (I apologized to my partner for this, and asked repeatedly that this person take the post down, made it very clear I wasn't okay with that, but they kept it up anyways.)

I tried to change their opinions by highlighting positive things about them, and repeatedly making clear the things I knew I had done wrong to them so it was clear any toxicity wasn't one-sided (please don't even try to question if I was really bad or anything like that. Had it happen before. Yes what I did was actually wrong. I have apologized and been working on it for a long time now, and debating if it was really wrong will not be helpful or wanted.) But even so, even now, everyone who knew even parts of me and my partners problems still hate them.

My partner has made clear to me that this hurt them. It made them feel isolated, and very alone. Because I had people backing me up and people to talk to, and those people hated them, while they didn't have access to therapy (which I also had at the time, and also do now) or people to talk to about it at the time.

I've apologized for that, and long since stopped telling anyone about our fights or problems. Partially because I found out it was hurting them, and partially because a few months after I had started doing that in the first place, things took a turn for the worse in our relationship and I always either didn't feel comfortable showing people what was happening anymore, or when I did, I ended up being asked to stop by the people I spoke to because what was going on was too heavy and often triggering for them to handle, which I respected. I also didn't have access to therapy for a while because I had just made a major move and my old therapist wasn't licensed to treat people in the area I'd moved to.

However, more recently, I opened up to both my therapist and my mother about everything that happened. Unlike with before, both of them got the full story, from the start of our relationship to now. I made sure to include everything I had done wrong (that I either figured out on my own or my partner told me about, I do worry that there's other things that I don't even know about yet) so that I didn't paint myself in a better light than reality. My therapist cried when I told her. Not full on crying or sobbing, but I could see the tears in her eyes the entire session. My mother was very angry. Both of them think it's for the best we break up. My therapist agreed it's toxic, which I know it still is, although I've been doing my best to make the relationship more healthy over time. She didn't outright say the words, but when I told her what my mother had to say about it, it was clear that she agreed with her that it was abusive. She wasn't angry the way my mother was, or as insistent about me breaking up with them, but she didn't think this relationship or this person in general was healthy towards me.

My mother, however, was almost violently angry. There was several parts of the story where she clenched her fists or had to pause to calm down. On top of that, when I brought up my partners disorder (it was heavily relevant to a large part of the story, as knowing they had it was necessary to really explain what happened for many parts of it), she started repeatedly telling me that she believed they're faking to manipulate me, and that "based on her years of research that wasn't how the disorder worked" (her "years of research" was an introductory college psych class over a decade ago, which barely mentions the disorder in question, so I don't trust that at all). This made me worry even more that I was being an asshole by sharing this, because I know firsthand how much it sucks to have someone not believe you about your own mental health. Not to mention, I have a similar disorder myself, so it felt wrong the way she talked about their disorder (I brought this up but she said it was different and she believes me, just not them. I'm pretty sure that's mostly because I'm diagnosed, and they aren't, due to not being able to get therapy). She also wouldn't believe they didn't have access to therapy because they live in a place with free healthcare, and didn't seem to understand that doesn't always apply to mental healthcare, especially when they're a minor and their parent won't get them therapy even when asked.

However, the reactions from both my mother and my therapist has made me start to question if telling people about our fights was really an asshole move in the first place. On the one hand, I know it hurt them, and that I hurt them in other ways on top of that. But on the other, if even middle aged adults, including one with a psychology degree, think it's so bad on their end, maybe telling them was a good thing. I don't want anyone to hate my partner, especially not when I know I was also toxic towards them and I don't feel like it's fair to treat them like they're so much worse than me, especially when my partner has said to me that I abused them (this was also shared to mother + therapist). But the way these recent events have gone have left me confused, and feeling like a giant asshole towards my partner all over again. So am I one for this?

What are these acronyms?

[hookechoes]

last scene of the bikeriders is absolutely fascinating me rn bc

it became even more clear to me on second watch that kathy is not necessarily a reliable narrator all of the time because she states outright, in the 1973 interview, that benny has no feelings and never ever cries, not ever. and then you see it happen when he comes home in 71; you see him sobbing in her arms after johnny dies, and she just doesn't tell danny. you could say she's protective of benny's pride, and i think that may be true, but she had no problem being honest about every other part of her relationship with him. i mean god bless the woman, i think she's still jealous of johnny even after he's gone. she's so possessive of benny that even after johnny dies, she still won't admit to anyone, including herself, that benny loved him back, that johnny's death brought him home, that losing johnny made him weep like he'd lost a spouse (which recalls to mind kathy speaking about only seeing her father cry twice, once when his wife nearly died), that he completely quit riding after that, the one thing it had always been clear that he loved doing, and never looked back.

[kcrabb88]

Quinlan Vos and Obi-Wan Kenobi Are Not Normal About Each Other (A Thesis Statement)

Fandom: Quinlan and Obi-Wan have had sex, but it’s a reach to think they could be in love and/or care deeply about each other in some manner, it was just physical (this is not me saying I don't think they have sex I HELLA do and I've written a lot of smut to prove it, but I've seen wayyyy too many posts that basically say they can only be romantic as Padawans and NEVER as adults and/or were just fooling around as teens and didn't have deep feelings in some way whether they're FWB or romantic partners or whatever you like)

Me: *unrolls my scroll* I'm here to make a POINT as an addendum to this post I made recently.

Look at these little darlings! They just met and Quin's already trusting Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan WANTS Quin to trust him. In another panel from this same comic, Quin helps Obi-Wan with his anxiety and it's very sweet.

Quin's been struggling with the dark side while undercover, and everyone thinks he's really truly fallen and can't be brought back except for Aayla, Tholme, and, YOU GUESSED IT! Obi-Wan. He goes looking for Quinlan on his own and finds him and they chat. Plus, look at this flashback of these little nerds flirting. Quin literally falls into the river and almost dies trying to flirt with Obi-Wan.

What do I even say about this panel??? Look at them!! Look at Quin trusting Obi-Wan with the dark parts of himself and Obi-Wan believing in him? Look at that hand clasp? Like shut up I can't take it.

Obi-Wan refusing to leave Quinlan behind and Quinlan, stubborn Quinlan, listening to him.

Their banter here shows how well they know and play off each other and that joke in the last panel SENDS ME.

This is from the new comic that came out in September, and this is just ONE instance of several of Quinlan mentioning Obi-Wan, who only appears in this comic via a psychometric vision, but Quin keeps bringing him up anyways.

I mean this is. THIS is what made me WANT to know more about Quinlan in the first place! It's not in this gif, but the way Obi-Wan smiles in this scene? The way his eyes light UP? That's love, babey.

I could literally paste so much stuff from Dark Disciple, which to me has always been a QuinObi book in addition to Vostress. Quinlan has fallen (pretty much without understanding he has because he so badly wants to uncover Sidious) and missing his check-ins with Obi-Wan, but Obi-Wan keeps going back to their bar over and over again and he's been waiting for like, two hours at this point when Ventress comes in.

"Not him." Okay, buddy. Okay. Obi-Wan has like three panic attacks and outright defies his fellow council members at various points through this book because he believes so hard in Quinlan. He is INSISTENT that Quinlan can be brought back to the light.

These two pages made me SOB.

"She saved Quinlan" in italics. Not just his life, but his spirit. Those italics speak for themselves. And "Vos knew he could never repay Kenobi for that, but he has the rest of his life to try." Do ya, Quin? The rest of your life, huh?

Anyhow, truly, this is just me scratching the surface as I was limited by only being able to use 10 photos in a post. I’m leaving out sooo many other examples. You don't have to ship them! But these guys care a lot about each other and saying that it's just, impossible for them to have romantic feelings on posts or fics where the creator is, indeed, shipping them is ... weird. So is trying to overlay other ships onto specifically QuinObi content.

This has been a PSA.

[coocoolahh]

My Starlight will Guide Me Home🌠💫

Summary: "Marcus Acacius is know as many things, but if you were to ask the man himself I'm sure that he would want nothing but to be known as the father to his beloved daughter who was born out of the love between him and his precious starlight. Historians have often debated over the identity of the mysterious starlight. Edward Gibbon once famously claimed in his magnum opus that Acacius' starlight was a vagabond princess from one of the Eastern kingdoms, but there is no concrete evidence to back his claim."

- Dr. C.C. Philip. 'The Roman Conquest of Numidia'.

A/N: No warning as such (not beta read). I have no idea what I just wrote but it was fun to do so. I hope that you guys will enjoy it as well🥰

r/historyloreNgossip 6 days ago

Eudoxes4lyf

Letters of General Marcus Acacius

I just finished reading R. Dike's "Epistles from the Past", which is basically a collection of translations of personal letters from various individuals across civilizations; I kid you not I sobbed and swooned so ugly when I read the part featuring the letters of Marcus Acacius (a 3rd century CE Roman general) to his daughter which were written when he was out on a military campaign to Numidia.

The man is so Girl Dad coded. That one letter where he is worried about her favourite dolly getting misplaced, while he is out there pillaging entire cities and colonizing the eastern frontiers in the name of Rome😭

Edit 2: I thought the person he is referring to as "starlight" was his wife Lucilla. Is there any extra info on the General's starlight?

Edit 2: I found a copy of Professor Philip's book in the college library. Thanks for the recommendation!

ptolemysiswife .5 days ago.

Omg yesss! The letters are so sweet. We had it on our reading list (it was a different book tho!) this semester and I kid you not I giggled like a school girl in love while reading the General's letters. Poor guy was missing his kid so much, you can't help but feel for him haha

SadguyRumi . 5 days ago.

Did you know that his daughter was born from a slave from the Orient and not his lawful wife?

ptolemysiswife .5 days ago.

Ah yes! The famous starlight. The way he describes her in the letters is so endearing. The man is outright simping for his starlight haha. It's so romantic😩🤌🏻

SadguyRumi . 4 days ago.

It's so funny that a hardened war general was down bad for the mother of his child.

BanksofVaranasi .4 days ago.

I think the OP will enjoy C.C. Philip's "The Dawn and Downfall of an Empire: A War General's Musings". It dives deep into the celebrated General's personal life, and even gives us some clues about his beloved starlight (I'm actively refraining from calling her a slave out of respect for the general who seemed to hate it when others referred to her and their daughter as such) which is backed by actual archaeological findings and not hearsay that other contemporary historians of the time would have us believe.

Hamurabishabibi .3 days ago.

This sounds so interesting. I'm a sucker for feel good stories from the ancient world. Can anyone please upload some of his letters or few wholesome excerpts? I tried looking for the books that OP and u/BanksofVaranasi mentioned but they cost a really pretty penny in my country (damn you conversion rate!)😀 I really wanna know about this starlight person as well😆😅

citethysources .2 days ago.

You're in luck cause some museum (I forgot which) recently uploaded a bunch of N. Maurice's translations of the General's letters (along with some other excerpts related to his life and times) under the section which they titled "Star Guided Letters to Home" on their website. You can check it out, they've curated all the letters in a nice chronological order

Hamurabishabibi .2 days ago.

omg the title!! I'm feeling violently sick ughhh! thanks a lot, I just found the museum's website and yes the section is curated so nicely. I think I'm in love with the web designer haha

Title: Star Guided Letters to Home: the letters of Marcus Acacius and other related documents from the 3rd century CE.

Translator: Dr. Nestor Maurice, MA, MPhil, PhD

Overview: The celebrated Roman general Marcus Acacius was once considered the darling of the Roman populi. Feared by the enemies of Rome, much of history knows him for his infamous exploits in the eastern frontiers of the Roman Empire, and for his brave defiance against the infamous co-emperors- Geta and Caracalla. The following letters were addressed by the general during his year long expedition to Numidia (in present day Algeria) to his only child and daughter Marcia (known fondly amongst the scholarly circles as "Marcia de la Stella"- Marcia of the Stars), and are a testament to a parent's love for their child, which transcends the temporal and spatial limitations imposed upon us by the natural flow of the Universe. Given the age of Marcia de la Stella at the time that these letters were penned, there is a high probability that they were read out to the child by her adopted mother Lucilla, the daughter of Emperor Marcus Aurelius and the legal wife of Marcus Acacius.

______________________________________________________________

Document 1

"The general had a surprisingly soft corner for his "slave" daughter, who was also his only known and acknowledged progeny. He could often be seen holding the wee babe in his arms within the confines of his domus.

It is rumoured that he had her manumitted in the early hours of her birth, and that there was an undertone of fear amongst the General's personal physicians that the otherwise healthy infant would inherit some of her slave mother's more peculiar cognitive functioning.

Nevertheless, it was evident to much of the Roman public that the child had the General wrapped around her tiny little finger; and anyone who dared to call her a bastard or a child of a slave would have to face the wrath of the otherwise austere and good-natured General"

- Cassius Dio, contemporary Roman historian

Letter 1: A Father's Prayer

"Marcus Acacius to his Moonbeam greetings. My dear moonbeam, a few moments ago I received a correspondence from fair lady Lucilla. She seemed worried that you haven't been keeping well. Oh how I wish I could be there for you my little duckling. But alas, your failure of a father must fulfil his duty to Rome first.

May our household gods inflict all your pain and suffering onto me! Give my salutations to lady Lucilla, and to my starlight. As always, my days are filled with your worry, and my nights are spent praying for you. Farewell, my moonbeam, may the stars and starlight guide this letter home to you."

Document 2

"Lucilla to her Attia greetings. Dearest friend, I received your invitation. I would be more than delighted to attend the wedding of your daughter Julia. I still cannot fathom the fact that little Julia is now ready to manage her own household. It saddens me to think that soon enough my little Marcia too shall come of age and become someone's bride. The child is the light in my otherwise dreary existence. Blessed be her sweet mother who brought her into this world!

I fear that my lord Marcus Acacius will be the most agitated when such a time shall come. But above all, I fear for the sake of the man who will come and ask for Marcia's hand in marriage. Give my greetings to your Julia. You shall see me and little Marcia soon. Farewell, my dearest and most longed for friend."

- Lucilla, wife of Marcus Acacius in a letter to her friend Attia dated 215 CE

Letter 2: Birthday

"Marcus Acacius to his Moonbeam greetings. My sweetheart, may you be showered with all the blessings that the world has to offer. Every year, on the day of your birth, I've taken the liberty to spoil you to my heart's content. Dearest, my good wishes are always upon you, but what has a father to offer to his dearest child from a battlefield?

Moonbeam, since the day that you were born to me and my starlight as our daughter, I've considered myself the luckiest man in all of Rome; but now, here in Numidia, I've started to appreciate the fact that I'm a daughter's father even more. May you never have to step foot in a battlefield, and may your dreams be decorated with happiness. Farewell, my dearest star child, may the stars and starlight guide this letter home to you."

Document 3

"Once at a party hosted by Senator Thraex, Lord [name erased due to erosion] made the mistake of mocking Marcus Acacius' paramour whom he decried as a whorish slave from the east.

Acacius in all his fury beat the unfortunate fool in unmitigated rage, and warned the onlookers that he wouldn't hesitate to do the same to anyone who dared to humiliate the mother of his child.

It was reported that the two co-Emperors, who were present at the gathering, had a good laugh over the misery of the man who had been the target of the general's wrath, and even offered the general to execute the "bumbling fool" as a gift to the general"

-Anonymous writer, 5th century AD

Letter 3: Dolly

"Marcus Acacius to his Moonbeam greetings. My precious star child, who is dear to the sight, but dearer still when the sight is denied, I was informed of your melancholy by dearest Lady Lucilla! I know just how precious the dolly was to you. My starlight had made it for you when you were smaller than a fig in her womb. I too, cannot help but lament the loss of your dolly. I wish I could be there to assuage your grief and mine.

Moonbeam, I promise to help you look for your dolly once I'm back there with you. The very thought of seeing you again fills my heart with joy in these difficult times. You are always in my prayers my dearest. Farewell, my sweet, may the stars and starlight guide this letter home to you"

Document 4

"Lucilla to her husband Marcus Acacius greetings. Dearest confidant and husband , you've always been considerate of me and my feelings since the day the late Emperor Septimius Severus had us betrothed. You've been respectful of my feelings for him, and I've always admired you greatly for that. As such, I was elated when you found your love in the form of [name erased due to erosion]. She brought such joy and light to you; and even bore you the most precious of daughters! Little Marcia has helped me get over my grief for my own dear Lucius, and watching her grow swells my heart with happiness and a sense of pride.

But dearest of friends, I must confide in you that the sweet child has been asking some very curious questions about her own identity, some of which I find myself unable to answer. If you could, please help her quench her curiosity. I pray for the safe passage of your campaign. Farewell, my husband and dearest of confidants.

- Lucilla, in a letter to Marcus Acacius dated 216 CE

Letter 4: Starlight

"Marcus Acacius to his Moonbeam greetings. My little Marcia, your poor father is troubled! I don't know how to begin this letter. I can start by describing the auspicious moment when I met my starlight or maybe I should start by describing her. Your mother, my starlight, hailed from a land somewhere in the far East of Rome. Her people called her [name erased due to erosion] but she was known in Rome as Macrina, for she worked in the household of Macrinus. You may know him as the man with the colouring of dawn who once came over, accompanied by his two adopted daughters, to offer you sweets. But you are too young to remember all that.

My starlight would sometimes play the lute at parties organised by Macrinus. She was so good at playing her instrument that you could swear that she had been blessed by the very gods of music. My starlight had a penchant for singing in her native tongue, but she would only so in private, and oh! how blessed was I to have been privy to her mellifluous voice. She would then try to translate them for me using her adorably weak command over the language that you and I are now conversing in. I'll tell you more about my starlight when I get back home to you. For now, I'm writing down a line from a song which my starlight once sung for me.

There’s a desire, there’s a prayer

Both of them have touched the soul of love

Read it from the left or from the right

From the earth till the sky, only love is written

My little cup of honey, you remind me of my starlight so much! Farewell, my Moonbeam, may the stars and starlight guide this letter home to you"

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Footnote: Hoii! I had so much fun writing this aiyaaaa! (totally not due on finishing my assignments and finishing my own reading list hahahah). I think the fic is pretty open ended (is it though?). I also chose the Orient cause it truly is a microcosm of the entire world (you get all shapes, colours and almost all race combinations)!! So the reader can customise the appearance of our dear starlight as per their likes and preferences. The orient part could also be my bias speaking cause I'm an aspiring historian whose field of interest lies in countries of the "Orient" (I'm also using the term Orient very veryyy loosely here). I took a lot of inspiration from various historical sources and epistles, so if you come across some of them then do tell!

Anyways, I hope that you guys will enjoy the fic as much as I did writing it huh (It's my first time writing one so I'm sorry if it comes across as cringe)!! Do tell if I should continue this and make it into a series hehe and sorry for any mistakes that I make in advance😽

Do like, repost and comment!! I love those hehe

That one line is from this song at the 2:35 minute mark

[flyingfanatic]

hold me like a grudge

The ghosts of her regrets visit Vi during her pit fighter era.

.

Tap, tap, tap. Time for another little talk.

Vi has vaulted to her feet and hit the punching bag several times before she remembers she’s not in the bowels of Stillwater. Her back isn’t stiff and cold from sleeping on the floor; there’s a bed behind her. Her punches landed on the musty-smelling bag which gave and swung under the force, instead of busting her knuckles open on the unyielding wall. Instead of an empty silence containing nothing but the odd drip of water, the world behind those walls is full of life. She can let their glee and anger mingle and wash over her until the smell of mold and stone fades.

One thing hadn’t changed: the pain in her gut and the bruise spreading across her hip-bone. Nothing more than another enforcer putting her back in her place.

“Love what you’ve done with the place.” His voice is gruff and familiar, irrevocably intertwined with his scent of whiskey and pipe tobacco.

Vi leans her head against the bag, eyes closed, and huffs a noise that’s closer to a sob than a laugh.

“I can see you’re going up in the world.”

She always thought of Vander in the same way; dirty white shirt and scruffy face. The man behind the bar. He leans against the sink in her room with the same insouciance he’d leant against the wall of her cell while she punched cracks into the concrete.

He had never stayed when the guards came down the corridor, the rhythmic tapping of their canes announcing their intentions long before the door would slide open. She would face the fire alone. He would only return afterwards, once she was bloody and flat out on the cold floor.

At least in this cell she has a bed. She flops down on it and stares at the ceiling.

“What happened to that fancy uniform of yours?”

She’d sold it, as fast as she could. It was only a target on her back. A brand on her skin. A reminder that she’d put herself on the wrong side of that line. Whored herself to an easy way out. Sold everything she was to lie that it would all be worth it in the end. The only remnant left is the gloves, lying abandoned in the corner. Part of her wished someone would break in and steal them. Not like she was doing any good with the damn things.

“I...” Vi croaks. It was no use: what could she say to Vander to explain how she’d ended up enlisting in the enforcers? There was no way he could understand that. Hells, she didn’t understand it. And if she told him why...

Whatever happens, it’s on you. I’m glad it’s you. Had to be you.

His voice twists into Jinx’s, from gentle admonishment to outright accusation.

Jinx is right. It’s her fault.

Vi had joined the enforcers, had gone against everything Vander had ever taught her and even then Caitlyn didn’t trust her, not all the way. Not when it mattered most.

“Rough break up?”

Vi twists and charges at the source of the sound but only ends up smashing face-first into her own door. Jinx isn’t there; only her laughter.

“Time for our hero’s triumphant return to the Lanes,” the disembodied voice teases. “Vander’s progeny, returned to save us all.”

Vi stumbles, clutching the wall, and ends up in front of the mirror staring at her bruised and bloody face. Her tattoo, her hair. It all has to go. The smears of black spread from her fingers across her head and consume her hair until she can’t recognize the person staring back at her.

Her fingers tighten around the sink. “I can’t save you. I can’t save anyone.”

I thought maybe you could love me like you used to.

Now Jinx’s voice echoes with Caitlyn, saying words she never said. Words she’d never say.

Caitlyn couldn’t love Vi even when she had been at her side, wearing her colors. There’s no way she’d love her now, greasy and stained and smelling of puke, losing fights and passing out on the floor.

Maybe Vi is the one who’s jinxed. Maybe she’s the reason that everything she touches turns to ashes and blood. Maybe it was better when she was shut away in Stillwater where the only harm she could do was to other criminals.

You’ve got a good heart.

Her memory of Vander standing over her flickers in and out against Caitlyn, pressing a cloth to her stomach. The vision changes — Powder, the way Vi remembers her, sitting on the edge of her sink, kicking her legs and giggling — Vander, arms crossed, looking down at her with disapproval — Jinx, pinned underneath her with pleading in her eyes — Caitlyn, in a guard’s uniform, swinging a baton around to sucker Vi in the gut.

Vi throws her arms out to push Caitlyn away and unbalances, winding up on the floor again.

She doesn’t know how long she passes out for. She doesn’t know how many times she drifts back in and out again. She only knows that every time she opens her eyes, she sees Caitlyn. Eyes wide, on the verge of reaching out to touch Vi’s cheek.

If she had only reached for Caitlyn then. Not for her hand, but for... for her. Vi could have surrendered herself to that big, soft bed, to the promise in those blue seas of understanding, to the smell of lavender mixed with gun oil. Maybe it could have worked, then.

If only she had stayed there with Caitlyn. She could have protected her. She could have stopped Jinx from taking her, from killing Caitlyn’s mother. If Jinx hadn't taken that shot, maybe they could have left it all behind. She could have had her sister back.

Protect the family.

That was rich. What family? Vander was gone. Mylo, Clagger. Powder was lost. Where did Vander get off, drifting into her mind and telling her to do the impossible?

He was the one who had taught her to fight, after all. She went in fists blazing because he had taught her how to punch and had told her it was her responsibility. Foolish. As if she ever knew how to fix anything.

But without that... who is she when there’s no family left to protect?

“Looking good, sis.”

.

[typicalopposite]

I know you’re writing your amnesia fic right now (which i love btw) but can we have a snippet of chapter 10🍼👀

Well yes you most certainly can! 😭🫶

(And for anyone wanting a Pregnant!Tommy mpreg fic from before pregnant Tommy was cool 🤣 read it from the beginning here!)

🫶🫶🫶🫶

Tommy lays on his side in his hospital bed, staring at the door to his room, waiting for Evan to come back. He runs his finger over the crisp edge of the pillow case of the pillow he is clinging to, takes the edge and folds it into a point then runs his finger over that… a little grounding stim he does absentmindedly when he has nothing better to do with his hands… At the moment he has nothing better to do with any part of his body. The one thing he was good for postpartum is going to waste… painfully building up and leaking out instead of going to Robby and Rochelle who need it. 

They need him. 

Yet they are at home, and he is here… All because his body— his stupid stupid useless body— decided maybe it really wasn’t cut out to be a carrier. He felt so empty after the twins were born… Now he feels hollow.

A choked off sob escapes and he buries his face in the pillow. He really doesn’t want to start crying again. He had already spent the majority of the night crying— until he finally cried himself to sleep— and then he woke up and cried some more. 

After he passed out in the ambulance, the next thing he remembers was waking up to Evan hovering over him, his hands running through his hair, and tears stains streaking down both cheeks. “H- Hey…” he said softly, kissing Tommy’s forehead, giving him the cliche ‘don’t you ever scare me like that again’ spiel. 

“What happened?” Tommy asked, and Evan gently explained he had in fact suffered a rupture of his internal incision. He said they thought they might have to do a hysterectomy, and Tommy’s heart had momentarily stopped until Evan corrected himself and explained they were able to stop the bleeding without that… but—

There is always a but. 

Tommy almost laughs in spite of himself… because just after Evan said he wasn’t left infertile, a doctor comes in and runs a knife through the sliver of hope Tommy had been clinging to. 

Unwise; that’s what the doctor called any idea of future children. He was too old. He already had two— a boy and a girl at that. It would be senseless to try again. An extremely high risk… His absolute favorite term. Tommy took it all in and forced himself to swallow it down. Evan tried to console him— not that he outright let himself grieve at first. He called Lacey who put Delores on the phone to tell him those are just statistics, and should be taken with a grain of salt. He should let his body heal… and when he’s ready to consider more children then worry about those statistics. 

He thanked them, and settled into the mattress… pushing everything out of the way so he could put on a brave face for a FaceTime call to his mom. But Ro was screaming when she answered— he knew it was Ro because her cries are much louder and angrier than Robby’s despite her smaller size. His mom looked frazzled and tired, but smiled and told him not to let it get him upset; Ro would be fine— she, Athena and Bobby had it under control. 

He tried to not let the cries bother him but the louder she got the more his chest began to ache as his body went into overdrive wanting to nurse her— except she wasn’t here, neither of his babies were. He was a terrible carrier that couldn’t successfully do the exact thing his body was meant to do; a terrible husband that would never be able to give his Evan any more children; a terrible— terrible father… who’s baby is crying out for him and he’s not there…

It was after he hung up the phone with his mom that the dam finally broke and he allowed the weight of everything happening to drag him under. He carefully curled himself into Evans' side and cried himself to sleep. 

Now he is curled around a pillow, trying not to start bawling again, while Evan talks with the doctors about letting the twins come up to be with him. 

He loses the battle just as Evan opens the door and steps back in. “Oh Tommy,” he says softly, quickly crossing the room and climbing in the bed to hold him. He kisses the top of his head and rubs up and down his back until he is calm. He wipes his face off with the back of his hand, accidentally pressing on the IV in it and hissing at the little bit of added pain to what he is already in. “Hey,” Evan whispers, taking his hand to kiss over the now sore spot. “They said yes.”

“R- Really?!” 

“Yep,” Evan laughs, wiping a tear from Tommy’s cheek. “Your mom is bringing them right now.” 

🫶🫶🫶🫶