#when i was younger the thing i was told the most was that suicide would only transfer my pain to others...

[uncanny-tranny]

I've talked before about how the way people treat suicide can be unintentionally devastating to the suicidal person, but I don't think I really ever said how to avoid that.

Speaking about suicide in how selfish it "is" ("think about how you'll transfer your pain to your loved ones!") might seem like a way to put logical sense into the suicidal person, but, honestly? It runs the risk of massively increasing their shame and guilt about being suicidal. Suicide is not inherently a revenge fantasy or a way to "get back" at someone's loved ones, so when the suicidal person is treated like a criminal of a "crime" they haven't even committed yet, you can imagine how unhelpful that can become.

Instead, if you want to point out how cherished your person is, frame their relationships as something they can keep fostering.

"Your cat will miss you :(!!!!" becomes "you and your cat seem close, right? I'm sure it's beautiful having a close friend like that!" and maybe include ways that they and their cat are close and meaningful to each other, tailored to that relationship.

That's only one example, but when you shift the focus away from why that person should repent and feel guilty for being suicidal, you can instead focus on why they would live for that reason. See how you can frame that as a positive? Whatever is keeping that person tethered should never be used as a bludgeon, I think, because then you're taking away why they're living, the positivity of why they are here. Whatever they are here for should be remembered often and honoured.

[saveyourblood]

Pretty Boy - Ch 2 (Evan Buckley x Reader) (Eventual Buddie x Reader)

Summary: You can feel Buck staring. When your eyes meet his, you realize he’s staring at your hand, which is still on Eddie’s knee. You slowly retreat, which makes Buck turn his attention to your face. You smile softly. He just looks out the window. The one where you’re an advanced paramedic, Buck and Eddie are firefighters, and you think you might be in love with both of them.

Ch 1

A/N: This is such a niche story and I am desperate for validation, please tell me if you enjoyed reading! Word Count: 3.4k Warnings: descriptions of gun violence, mental health issues/suicide ideation (nothing overly graphic IMO)

Unlike some people who work in this building, you know how to take orders. So, instead of dragging your feet and prolonging the inevitable, you go to Bobby’s office the second you get back from the call. Hen tries to say something to you, but you’re so focused on having this conversation behind you that you ignore her. 

Despite the door being cracked open, you knock a few times. 

“Come in,”  Bobby says. 

You step in. He looks up. 

“Ah,” he remarks as if it’s a surprise to see you. “You can close the door behind you.” 

You close the door and lean against it. 

“Have a seat,” Bobby instructs as he files through some random papers. 

You let out a sigh. You were hoping to be in and out, but Bobby clearly has other ideas. Still, you do as you’re told. 

“I wanted to talk to you about what happened with Buck.”

As if you’d be in here for anything else. 

“Are you gonna write me up?” You ask instinctually. You’ve never been formally disciplined, so the question is gnawing at you. 

“Buck wants me to.”

You snort. “Buck wants a lot of things; most children do.”

“You’re a year younger than him,” Bobby points out. 

It’s true—Buck is 26, and you’re 25. But in this context especially, age is just a number. You’re a 25-year-old advanced practice paramedic with 3 years of experience who acts their age. Buck is a 26-year-old firefighter in his probationary period who acts like a frat boy.

“Are you going to write me up?” You repeat. 

Bobby gives you a look, then sighs with a crooked smile. “No. But if you do anything like that again, you’ll be hearing from me and Sergeant Grant.” 

“Fair enough,” you cede. 

There are a few silent beats in the conversation. This is why Bobby made you sit—he has more to say. 

“Why does he bother you so much?” Bobby asks.

“Literally everything I told him: he’s wreckless and he’s gonna get someone killed if he doesn’t change.” 

“So why not teach him to do better, to be better?”

“Trust me, Cap, I’ve tried,” you chuckle. “I mean, even earlier today, I taught him how to clear an obstruction in a neonatal airway. And honestly? For a few minutes, when he was running down the stairs with that baby in his arms, I thought, ‘Hey, maybe he isn’t so bad after all.’ And then he yells at Sergeant Grant, and he proves me wrong. Again.” 

“I’m talking to him and Sergeant Grant about how everything went down,” Bobby says. 

“I’m not telling you that to get him in trouble, I just…” You take a deep breath through your nose and let it out as a sigh. “It felt like no one was holding him accountable. And I’ve tried playing nice, and I’ve tried teaching him, and he still had the nerve to pretend that he can play god. And I just… lost it, and thought that maybe if I treat him like a man would, he would finally listen to me.”

Bobby nods, taking in everything you’ve said.  

“You think I don’t hold him accountable?” He eventually asks. 

You let out another sigh. “If Buck worked under any other LAFD Captain, they would have canned his ass about three months ago.”

“But is that the right thing to do?” Bobby counters. “This job is tough, and it isn’t something that can be taught overnight. Buck has potential—he could be an invaluable asset some day.”

“Is firing him the right call? Honestly, Bobby, I have no idea,” you admit. “But if people have to get hurt in order for Buck to be good at his job, then it isn’t worth the price.” 

Bobby ended up firing Buck a few days later. It wasn’t for what happened with Sergeant Grant; it was because, apparently, Bobby caught him having sex with some girl on a roof. He used one of the fire trucks to drive there. The moron didn’t realize they have GPS trackers. You got all of this information in a text from Hen. 

You turn the corner to the locker room, planning to put away your keys and wallet before starting your shift like you always do. You didn’t expect to see Buck sitting on the bench in front of the lockers. 

You plan on opening your locker, throwing your stuff in it, and leaving before Buck can say anything. The second you lift the lever, though, Buck turns his head towards you. 

He doesn’t say anything, and you definitely aren‘t going to break the silence. 

“So you heard, huh?” Buck says. 

You close your locker and spin the lock to scramble it. “Yeah, I did.” 

“Aren’t you going to say anything else?” 

“Tough break. Sorry, man,” you say with a shrug. You turn on your heel to leave.

“That’s it?” Buck says with a laugh. “A few days ago, you were slamming me against an ambulance, and now… nothing? Aren’t you supposed to say, ‘I told you so’?”

Buck doesn’t even work at the 118 anymore, and he still has a way of getting under your skin. You close your eyes, hoping you can gain some composure before you say anything.

“I’m sorry for pushing you; that was unprofessional,” you say and make your second attempt at leaving.

“But that’s all you're sorry for,” Buck says, rising to his feet. 

You turn around and eye him from head to toe. His chest isn’t puffed out in that hypermasculine way it normally is. Buck shifts his weight between feet, and when the pressure of your stare becomes too much, he breaks eye contact. 

“It’s like Sergeant Grant said: I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” you eventually reply.

“Then say it: you’re happy to see me go.”

Jesus Christ, he can be such a baby. 

“Okay, fine, you wanna go there?” you retort, taking a step forward. “You wanna know the worst thing about you, Buck?” 

He just looks at you. 

“You. You’re the worst thing about you. Because you could’ve been good. You’ve got decent skills, and you have heart, but you have no discipline. You can’t take orders, and you can’t look at a woman for more than thirty seconds without having sex with her. You’re a 16-year-old boy trapped in a 26-year-old man’s body, and ever since you started, you haven’t done anything to change it. You get in your own way and are too busy flirting or running your mouth to even realize it.”

You take another step towards him to ensure he hears what you’re about to say. “You could’ve been good. And I hope that shit haunts you. Because maybe, it’ll finally make you grow up.”

You start to make your exit again but linger in the doorway. You turn back around; there’s one more thing you want to say.

“I’m not happy to see you go, Evan. In fact, I was really hoping you would prove me wrong.”

And with that, you’re gone. 

You and Hen go out on a ‘shortness of breath’ call that ends up being a STEMI — a heart attack. You get him to the nearest hospital in five minutes, and if they can get him to the cath lab, he has a really good shot at surviving it. The patient’s wife hugs both you and Hen, thanking the two of you for doing such a wonderful job. You savor the feeling; most calls don’t end this way. 

When you pull into the station, there’s an engine missing. At first, you think it’s no big deal: the boys are probably out on a fire call. Then you see Bobby standing where the engine’s supposed to be.

“What’s going on, Cap?” Hen asks as she closes the door to the rig. 

“There’s an engine missing.”

“Yeah, clearly,” you chuckle. 

“There were reports of a residential break-in on Lambert Street in Winnetka,” Bobby continues. 

“Damn,” Hen whistles. 

You both heard something about that over the scanner on your drive back to the station; there was a suspected hostage, a young girl. Last you heard, the subject was trying to flee by motorcycle. 

“All of the 118 firemen are accounted for,” Bobby concludes.

You and Hen share a look. Who has a track record of borrowing engines without permission?

The truck pulls up and slowly backs into the garage. You catch a glimpse of the driver in one of the rearview mirrors. 

“Pretty Boy,” you say simply. 

Buck steps out of the truck, still wearing the jeans and long-sleeved grey shirt you last saw him in. “I know what this looks like.”

“Looks like you took the engine out in your street clothes,” Bobby says as he approaches the younger man. 

“I didn't really have time to change,” Buck counters. He doesn’t say it in his normal cocky tone, though. Frankly, he looks nervous. 

“Athena Grant called me, wanted to tell me what an asset you are.” Bobby continues. “Told her she was half right.”

Buck frowns. “Are you giving me another chance?” 

“You’ve used all your chances; so have I,” Bobby says, “because somehow I have failed to communicate to you how lucky we are to do what we do.”

Bobby starts to walk away, but Buck isn’t letting him get away that easy. 

“You're wrong, Bobby. I absolutely do get what a privilege it is to serve here,” Buck says, “and you know what? You were right to fire me.”

That makes Bobby stop dead in his tracks.

“I was a punk,” Buck continues, “still am one. But I'm a punk who understands what he lost. Just… needed you to know that.”

“I hope you mean that. Now go get dressed.” 

Buck stands cluelessly for a second, then turns to you and Hen. “I think I’m not fired.” 

“Your shift’s not over yet,” Hen points out. 

You go to follow her, but Buck stops you by calling your name. 

“I just wanted to tell you, uh…” Buck says, wringing his hands together. “I’m gonna prove you wrong.”

Normally, words like that coming out of his mouth would set your skin on fire. Between the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes, though, something in your gut tells you to hear him out. 

“Yeah?” You ask simply, waiting for him to elaborate. 

“Some day, I’ll be good,” he says, “but until then, I’ll be better.”

Buck extends a hand for you to shake. It’s the most chivalrous thing you’ve seen him do since you met him. You look at his hand, then at his eyes. There isn’t a trace of humor in his gaze. You take his hand and shake it. 

“I look forward to seeing it.”

Your first call of the shift is to an amusement park where one of the rides malfunctioned. A rider was thrown from the ride as it was moving, and it sounds like he’ll be DOA. When the operator deployed the emergency breaks, though, it meant the rest of the train stopped at the top of a loop, which one rider is now dangling out of. 

Buck is the first to volunteer to climb the ladder and harness the passenger. You’re not surprised. He’s grown a lot in the last few weeks, but he still jumps at every exciting opportunity, no matter how dangerous it may be. Maybe that’s just how Buck is. 

“Hey, he’s asking about his friend,” Buck radios once he’s at the top. 

“Chimney, how’s the kid on the ground?” Bobby radios. 

You look up and shake your head. 

“We lost him,” Chim radios back. 

“All right, I don't need the people up there seeing that. So, do me a favor... He survived, right? Get him on a gurney. You know the drill,” Bobby instructs.

“Copy that,” Chim replies. 

Once you and Chimney get him on the gurney and out of everyone’s sight, you look up at Buck. 

“Come on,” Chimney mutters encouragingly. “Come on, Buck.” 

After a painfully long minute, you see the man’s grasp on the rollercoaster falter. Then, you watch him let go. You close your eyes before you see him hit the ground, but the sound will echo off of your eardrums for a while. 

You go the rest of the night without seeing Buck; you don’t share another call, and when you’re not out in the field, you’re asleep in the bunks. It’ll probably kill you in the long run, but these days, you learn to sleep whenever and wherever you can. 

When you wake up for morning report and breakfast, Buck is already sitting at the table. You wipe the sleep out of your eyes and get a cup of coffee before sitting across from him. 

Bobby was nice enough to make breakfast; he knows how hard these calls are. No matter how many you get, it’ll never get easier. 

Bobby sets a plate in front of Buck. 

“I’m not hungry,” he says almost instantaneously. 

“This is America, Buckaroo,” Chim replies as he sets some silverware on the table. “Eating has nothing to do with being hungry.

“Man, I was right there. You know, all he had to do was reach up and grab my hand,” Buck says instead.

“People do funny things at times like that,” you offer, sipping your drink. “ Sometimes they just freeze up.”

“I’ve never lost anyone before,” Buck says quietly. He looks up at you. “Does it get any easier?” 

Bobby answers for you. “No.” 

“Look, people die, and that’s part of the gig, right?” Chim says as he sits next to you. “See, your problem is, you're looking at every job like it's a long-term relationship. They're one-night stands, man. In that moment, they mean everything to you, but once the morning comes... it's on to the next one.”

“How silly of me to think you’d say something productive,” you roll your eyes.

Chim furrows his brows. “What?”

“You’re such a man,” you say to Chim, then turn to Buck. “Look, dude, we all go through it, and you just have to figure out a way to deal with it,.” You pause. “You know why we wear these uniforms?”

“Sex appeal?” Chim answers, which earns him a quick kick to the shin from you. 

“So people can easily identify us,” Buck responds. 

“That’s true, but… I don’t know, I like to think it’s because when we take it off, we can leave it all behind us. Right now, you’re firefighter Buckley, but when your shift is over, you’re Buck. It just… symbolizes letting go, I guess.”

“I see his face every time I close my eyes,” Buck says. “Does that happen to you?” 

“It’ll pass,” you promise. 

“And if it doesn’t?”

You stare at Buck for a moment. It’s hard to imagine that this is the same man who mouthed off to a police Sergeant mere weeks ago. 

“Then you talk someone,” you eventually say. “A friend, a therapist, a bartender… you find a way to let it out, and then you let it go.”

 

Once again, you don’t see Buck for hours. You heard on the scanner that the 118 responded to several rescue calls, none requiring an RA unit. You spent the rest of your shift bouncing from call to call and ER to ER, seeing everything from stab wounds to childbirth. It’s shifts like this that remind you why you do what you do. It’s chaotic, stressful, and bloody, but it is fun. After a certain point, you don’t even have to use your brain; the adrenaline in your veins kicks your brain into autopilot, and your pounding heart is just along for the ride. 

You step into the communal locker room, completely exhausted. You still have to change, and considering everything you’ve witnessed, you should probably shower too. Most of all, you want to go home and crawl into your bed. 

Buck is sitting on the bench in the locker room, similar to how he was a few weeks ago after he was ‘fired.’ Just like you, he’s still wearing his uniform. His head is bowed between his shoulders as his elbows rest on his knees. This time, his head doesn’t perk up when you open your locker. 

“I heard you used The Manuever today,” you spark the conversation. “Nice save.”

Buck finally looks up and then chuckles quietly. “Yeah, if only I could’ve done that a few days ago.” 

You take a seat next to him. “Still thinking about Devon, huh?” 

“I’m trying not to, I just…” Buck says, then cuts himself off as he shakes his head. 

“It’s easier said than done,” you conclude. 

“Yeah.” 

“Yeah,” you agree. 

Both of you sit in comfortable silence for a few moments. You open your mouth a few times only to close it. You don’t want to tell this story; you hate even thinking about it. But if you’re going to sit here and tell Buck that he has to let things go, you have to do the same. It’s only fair. 

“The first person I lost… her name was Katherine Vanec. She was 17 years old, wearing a University of Washington shirt, white shorts, and black Converse High Tops. We got a call from her mother, who was at work when she started getting strange texts from Katherine. It was supposed to be a welfare check, and when the cops got there, they found her locked in her bedroom. When fire and rescue broke down the door, she had a .22 caliber revolver pressed to her temple.”

“Jesus,” Buck mutters. 

“Katherine had a history of Borderline Personality Disorder and suicidal ideation. She figured out that her high school sweetheart had been cheating on her for almost a year. They made plans together, I guess — they were gonna go to the same school, find a place off-campus to live together. He pulled the rug right out from under her, and she couldn’t take it.”

“So what happened?”

You smile sadly. “By the time we arrived, a negotiator had been talking to her for almost ten minutes. They thought she was in a good spot that all she had to do was put the gun down, and we would swoop in and 5150 her.”

“Involuntary admission,” Buck says. 

“Yeah,” you confirm. “That didn’t happen. When the negotiator asked her to set the gun down, she lost it. She kept talking about how every time before, she chickened out, and she couldn’t let that happen again. She turned the gun on us.”

“Suicide by cop.”

You nod as a few tears well in your eyes. Even all these years later, that case haunts you. “Her finger wasn’t near the trigger; she didn’t want to hurt anyone. She just didn’t want to be alive anymore, and she couldn’t think of another way out. I can still hear the sound of the bullets tearing through her.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” Buck asks softly. 

You wipe at your eyes and clear your throat. “Let it out and let it go,” you answer, then nudge his shoulder with yours. “Your turn.” 

Buck smiles; the expression is bittersweet. “I keep replaying what happened. I can’t shake this feeling that there’s something else I could’ve done. Maybe I could have grabbed his arm, or maybe there’s something I could’ve said differently.”

“Or maybe, no matter what you did, it was always going to end that way,” you suggest quietly. “Maybe he felt the same way Katherine did—like he had no other way out. We can try to rescue people, but we can’t make them want to be alive. Some people just don’t want to be saved, Buck.” 

“That really sucks.”

You laugh. “Yeah, it does. I guess that’s why we have each other; it makes it suck a little less.” 

“‘Each other’ as in you and me?” Buck asks in a lighthearted tone. 

You roll your eyes, but secretly, you’re thankful for the change of pace. “‘Each other’ as in the 118, which technically includes you and me.” 

“Sounds like a copout.” 

You laugh and clap a hand on Buck’s shoulder before standing. “Have a good night, Buck.”

You make it to the doorway before he says your name. You look back at him. 

“Thank you,” he says softly. 

You bite your lip, but it isn’t enough to conceal your smile. “Anytime.” 

Ch 3

[siriusblack-the-third]

Lets talk about Walburga

Specifically, lets talk about her thoughts on blood purity, her sons, the Blood War, and Voldemort.

A few canon points to keep in mind before we go forward with this little thing:

Walburga is a year older than Tom Riddle

The only Black sister in school when Sirius attended Hogwarts was Narcissa, who is four years older than him.

Nymphadora Tonks is 13 or 14 years younger than Sirius. We're not given her exact date of birth but she was born in 1973 while Sirius was born on 3rd November, 1959.

(everything underneath is a mix of canon and headcanon)

Walburga was a member of the House of Black, a House that was akin to magical Royalty, almost. Their magical lineage could be traced back several centuries, and their money was older still. She was born into wealth, and she married into wealth.

Blood purity, for her, was absolute. You were either a pureblood, or you were not. It did not matter to her if all your grandparents or great grandparents had magic; if you had non-magical ancestors, you were not pureblood. The Blacks were as pure of blood as it could get. She would live with the fact that they had to rub elbows with people of blood that was not pure, of course, because that was how the world worked, and she knew nothing could be done about it. It something existed, then it was most probably meant to exist, she thought, and that was it for her. She thought those of "dirty" blood to be beneath her, but she did not begrudge them their existence. Let them live their pathetic lives, she thought, and I will live my life.

She was for the most part, a live and let live sort of person.

That is, until the appearance of the new upstart fancying himself as the new Dark Lord, who promised to make the magical world pure and unsullied by muggle influence once again. He promised supremacy to those of ancient heritage, promised them wealth and riches and importance.

Walburga was not an idiot. Far from it. She was a Black, in everything that she did. Blacks had wealth, and riches, and importance. Besides, she recognised an old school mate no matter how many changes their face had gone through, and when she saw his face for the first time, she only thought one thing: dirty blood.

Thomas Marvolo bloody Riddle.

She knew him, of course. He had been two years her junior in Hogwarts— scrawny eleven year old Tom who surprised everyone when he sorted Slytherin, because nobody knew his ancestry and he definitely did not look like a pureblood. Back then, Walburga had been sure to mention in earshot of a few gossipy housemates that even the Weasleys did not look pure of blood, and yet they had one of the cleanest pedigrees of Britain.

That had protected Thomas for a while— exactly long enough for Walburga to do a little digging, and she had scoffed at what had been found.

Slytherin. Thomas was a direct descendant of Slytherin.

That did not mean much, sadly.

His mother had been a squib, his uncle a murderer, and his father a filthy muggle. Thomas was from an old family, yes, but he was not pureblood.

And so, when Thomas Riddle came knocking in 1971, calling himself Voldemort, asking her to join his foolish cause of exterminating mudbloods, demanding that she bow down to him... she laughed in his face.

She bowed to no one. She was Walburga Black, wife of Orion Black, of the purest line in all of Europe. How dare this upstart demand anything of her, let alone demand that she bow to him? Ridiculous. She laughed in his face, and told him to take his illogical, irrational war somewhere else.

"You, Thomas? You will wage a war on Mudbloods?" She asked him, a small smile curving over her dark red lips and amusement dripping from every pronounced syllable, and Voldemort bristled with rage. "Will it end with you committing suicide, then, seeing as your blood is as dirty as it can possibly get?"

That night ended in a legendary duel— Voldemort escaped Grimmauld Place with several injuries and the threat of annihilation if he ever set foot in Walburga's house again.

And then Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor.

It was a shock to her heart— her boy, her firstborn, the scion of the House of Black. He was fraternizing with mudbloods and inferior beings, and Walburga did not like it one bit. At least that Potter boy was a fine choice for a friend; his parents were pure of blood and upheld traditions, coming from the Peverell line. A fine choice, if not the first that Walburga would have made.

And then he started toeing the line. Sirius lashed out, yelled at her, ignored her, scowled at her and Orion. And yet, she loved him. She also hated him. He was so much like her and Orion— headstrong, stubborn, brilliant, arrogant, intelligent. Powerful, as a Black should be. He was the perfect Black. The perfect heir.

What a shame, thta he did not listen to her, that he did not take her advice. No matter, she would ensure his obedience.

As for Regulus, well... He was enamoured with this Lord Voldemort.

Walburga did not approve. She did not approve at all. The man was insane, he did not have pure blood, and he certainly was idiotic if he though the world would be a utopia if the lesser people did not exist. Extermination was a foolish quest, even stupider when undertaken by someone of such inferior blood, and she loathed that Regulus would willingly bow to anyone.

Regulus was her son. A son of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. How dare he bow to someone? How dare he forsake his family name in favour of kneeling at someone's feet and kissing the hem of some mudblood monster's robes? How dare he disgrace the name of the House of Black so, submitting to inferior beings?

Walburga did not care that Bellatrix had done the same. Bellatrix was married. She was a member of the Lestrange family now, she could do whatever the bloody hell she wanted. She disapproved of Bella's choice, of course. She disapproved greatly. This.. this Death Eater business was as foul as that idiot Andromeda running off with that mudblood and bearing his child. Narcissa, despite her good sense to not bow to Voldemort, was still hopelessly in love with that peacock Lucius who was most definitely a Death Eater. Walburga disapproved. And yet, she was not either of their's mother, and she did not give a hippogriff's tit what any of those silly girls did.

Regulus, however, was a son of the main line. He should not be dreaming of bowing to anyone. Weak, foolish child, fantasising about kissing the hem of the robes of Thomas bloody Riddle. How dare he dishonour the dignity of the House of Black? How dare he insult their Noble name? Foolish, idiot, weak child.

She was sure the Mudblood upstart was laughing at her, wherever he was. He took her child.

And then Sirius ran away.

She did not like admitting that it was her fault, in part. She knew better than anyone how difficult it was to change a Black's mind once an opinion had been solidified. She was a Black, she knew how stubborn they could be. And yet, she pushed and pushed and pushed, and Sirius snapped. She should have taken a more delicate approach. But she had been foolish, and then she dealt with the consequences by blasting her darling son's name off the Tree, screams falling from her lips and tears from her eyes.

Regulus took the Dark Mark.

Walburga stopped speaking with him.

She did not speak to him until his death, which she was informed about by Kreacher. Kreacher, who was forbidden from giving her, or anyone else, the full details.

Two months later, Death came to collect Orion as well.

It was not long after that Walburga succumbed to madness. There was only so much loss one could take, and she had taken more than anyone. Her sons, her husband, everything... gone.

Was it any surprise, that she went mad in the last years of her life?

.

Tags (I hope you don't mind): @plecotusauritus @in-flvx @strwbi-laces @roalinda @mycupofrum

[adventuringblind]

Unrequited Understanding

Norlestappen x Reader

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: Her father comes back into her life as a replacement race engineer. Now she can't escape him and his voice when she does the one thing she thought he couldn't touch.

Warnings: eating disorder, abuse, past child abuse, sef harm, suicide attempt

Notes: for @ashiekins, I hope you like it! I'M SORRY FOR THE ENDING I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF!

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

January

The new year had never felt so sweet. Her victory with Max and Redbull had been a dream. Max taking another championship, had the entire team walking on cloud nine.

She spent new years with her boys. It's tradition at this point to messily kiss all together as the new year comes around.

They'd done so much for her. She's come so far in her journey.

"What are you thinking about, Love?" Neither her nor Lando could sleep. Most nights, they end up talking to get the heavy thoughts to lessen a bit. It's why they get one half of the bed to themselves.

"How nice it feels to know I'm still here and loved." She rests her head on Lando's chest, the steady rythme of his heart lulling her into a restful state.

"Life wouldn't be the same without you." He kisses the top of her head as her mind finally gives into sleep.

February

Her and Max sit together at the large conference table. The factory is preparing for the new season. Energy is running high, and she can feel it crackling in the atmosphere.

Christian talks about how excited he is for the new season. 2023 is going to be theirs to dominate. Adrian has been working tirelessly to give them a title worthy car.

"We have had to make some last-minute changes to the team, unfortunately." Christian makes eye contact with her, and the good feeling she had dissolves. "Your race engineer has fallen terminally ill and is being hospitalized. The good news is we've found a last-minute replacement."

The door opens, and she feels the air leave her lungs. Her body shakes in fear of the man who takes confident strides to his chair.

Christian introduces them, clearly not understanding that they know each other very well. The man is her father, after all.

She has her mother's last name. Intent on separating herself from him entirely. He'd been doing Indie car for years. She never thought he'd make the switch after how they left things.

Max shoots her a concerned look, but she shakes it off. None of the boys had ever seen what her father looks like. They don't know she changed her last name.

She has no intention of ruining a good season because of her petty emotions. So, she says nothing.

March

It's not as bad as she thought it would be. They don't interact much aside from talking about data and while she's in the car.

The underhanded comments make her thoughts reel. The constant questioning of her skill while she's driving makes her think she's crazy. Her father is too good at making it look like a joke. People laugh with him, not understanding he means what he says.

He talks over her, cuts her off, bosses her around like she's still a child. She shrinks in on herself every time he cones around.

Stay silent and listen. That's what got her through her childhood. Just don't make him angry.

He lashes out when he's angry.

Charles is there when a nightmare causes her to be sick. A memory of her childhood that haunts her still.

The Monegasque holds her hair up and rubs her back as she sobs. He makes her a warm drink and holds her, letting her wet tears soak into his shirt.

"Do you want to talk about it, mon chéri?" He whispers gently against her forehead.

She inhales, breath catching in her throat as she does. "My dad, he - well - he used to say I'd never be anything. I sometimes dream about the memory."

"Your father and Jos can fuck off." Charles cups her face with his hands. "You are amazing. Whatever he told you is a lie. You've proven yourself to the world. Your younger self can rest knowing she got you here, that you are safe and loved and enough."

April

It's getting worse by the day. She's not sure where her father got the idea that he could order her around like she's still five and karting. It's getting annoying and ridiculous.

He's taken to snatching any food out of her hand and tossing it away into the nearest bin. What a waste. He could've eaten it himself.

He keeps telling her the car is too heavy. The data doesn't show that, but whatever. Her food being taken from her like when she was young was not how she expected the season to go. She takes to not eating because it's easier than fighting with him.

Her physio keeps asking her about why her weight seems to be plummeting recently. Even trying to get it back on her with altered meal plans. The concerns get brought up later in a meeting with Christian. The severity of her condition being made apparent.

Max watches her sob over a salad. She can tell he wants to push, asked what is causing the relapse. Understand where her head is at.

He hands her a water bottle and waits until she drinks the entire thing. "It's okay to struggle, but please don't shut us out. You don't have to do this alone, alright?"

She doesn't respond, simply collapses into his patient arms.

May

Lando and Charles happened to be passing by at the worst time. The Redbull garage still buzzing with the excitement of Max's podium and her mediocre result compared.

They saw her race engineer laying into her about every mistake. No other staff around to hear the conversation. Her head hung in shame as he pointed out every flaw.

Charles interrupts with such ease. He says her PR officer was looking for her earlier. It gets her to excuse herself from the conversation, leaving the two boys with her engineer.

"Mind your own business next time," scoffs the older man. He leaves the younger two confused.

Charles takes in Lando's mildly anxious body movements. "Something isn't right, Charles. She had that same look from when we were rookies."

Charles hums in agreement. "We'll have to wait for her to come to us for now."

June

The underhanded comments are getting progressively worse. People have started noticing that something is off about her race engineer and his behavior towards her.

Meetings are difficult and the team is walking on eggshells. Max looks ready to explode and has been ripping her father to pieces after every comment. He gets in trouble, so she asks him to stop.

She doesn't mind. Her whole life has been taking this kind of behavior from him. Max knows better than anyone that it's best to respect that kind of ask.

"I'm here if things ever get to a point where you want it to stop. I will always be here for you."

July

Her wight combined with her self-harming habits are making it harder to drive. Somewhere in her head she knows she can't continue like this. The car no longer works with her.

Christian keeps pulling her into his office and asking her about where she's at. Warning her the if she continues down this road, she won't be able to drive. That he'll be forced to find a replacement.

She cries as the boys hold her. She tells them she's not sure if she can do it anymore, that she's not cut out for this sport. They comfort and reassure her that's a lie.

Her thoughts remain stuck on being a burden to them. She gets better just to fall once more into her old habits. They have careers and goals that would be easier to achieve without her around.

Maybe her father is right about her after all.

August

The summer break brings them a much-needed reprieve from the fast-paced world they live in. She gets to spend time away from the incessant voice of the man she hates. Her boys occupying her mind instead.

There is a finality about this that she can't explain. Like things can only get better from here on out. That something in her future is going to bring her the one thing she's looking for.

Swimming in the ocean and eating what they want. They laugh and joke like nothing has changed. It's the first time in months that she feels normal.

This is how things should be. The smile on her face is genuine and the boys can all tell.

September

The cuts line her skin in an unorganized fashion. Angry, red, and bleeding. Her race had been ended early due to a collision. She'd been collateral damage; it wasn't her fault.

The media didn't see it that way. Her father definitely had no mercy when he mercilessly explained how she will never be good enough as a driver.

Hidden away in her drivers' room now, watching the blood pour from her skin. The boys know, they've seen the fresh lines. They are trying to find a way to get her to stop, but these feeling are fighting back harder than ever before. She's not sure how to fight them anymore.

Disappearing seems like the best option. The only way she'll be able to escape the dark thoughts swirling in her head. The one place her father won't be able to touch her anymore will be in her death.

She moans as the blade digs deeper. The ecstasy that accompanies addiction is a feeling she will always crave. Sick satisfaction bubbles in her throat and pour out on her eyes as red stains the floor.

This wasn't her plan, but it's okay. The pain makes all her thoughts go away. Lessens the weight on her chest. Forces her mind to focus on something else.

Everything is spinning and then it goes dark.

Warm hands and comforting words. That's all she's ever wanted.

October

The boys can see how sick she is. Max won't let her be alone in the garage. Not after she almost died.

Her physio is with her when none of the boys are. They keep asking her questions that she won't give answers to.

It's not until an altercation with her father is finally caught. He's condemning her over the radio while she's driving. They'd had an argument earlier about how she should be taking turn three.

The public execution is miserable. Still, she puts her head down and drives.

The second-place trophy has never felt heavier. It drags her arms downwards as she heads to the garage with Max. He doesn't know about what happened yet and she hopes it stays that way. She screams as she puts it away in her room.

She avoids her father as much as possible on the way to the press conference. The glimpse she does get of him leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. Christian looks angry as he presses a finger into her father's chest.

She's zoned out majority of the conference. Until A journalist with a soft voice is asking about her feelings towards her race engineer.

"It's just how things are sometimes. I wasn't listening to instructions, and he was frustrated. It happens." She shrugs it off like this is the most normal everyday occurrence. Which, in her defense, it kind of is.

Every media outlet seems to want to know more about it. Her emotions are struggling to remain contained. the inevitable sobs escape after a particularly worded question about whether his actions could be considered abuse or not.

She breaks, collapsing in the middle of the media pen. Her boys are there blocking the view of the cameras as her body fails to move.

They know now what has been happening. Her secret is out there for everyone to see.

November

Her father is fired from the team with immediate effect. Christian apologizes relentlessly for not knowing and not seeing it sooner.

The media is asked to refrain from asking about the incident and anything regarding her past race engineer. They respect it, probably wanting to avoid another meltdown in the middle of an interview.

Max, Lando and Charles are with her through every step of the way. They encourage her to talk to them and she does. It feels nice not having to hold in her family secrets.

They want to help her, and she wants to be helped.

Her race engineer for the end of the season ends up taking the job for next year. He's kind and keeps his voice calm. Her last few drives amaze everyone.

The top step of the podium has never felt so good. She didn't need to prove herself to anyone, but the confidence it brings her is hard to deny.

Closure feels even better.

December

Her therapist is proud of her for opening up to the boys more. They don't push her to spill everything, but they encourage her when she does.

The end of the year pulls them closer together. After everything that happened, she wasn't sure she was going to see 2024 come around. She's glad she does though.

She fought to the end. She made it to her peace. A place where her father can't touch.

Warm hands and gentle words for all of eternity.

January... Again

Three boys stand in front of a grave. Her favorite flowers in hand. The silence stretches between them. None of them know how to proceed.

The memory of finding her on the floor replays in Max's head. He should've known to find her right after the race. That cold September afternoon in Zandvoort. The day she bled out for one final time.

Charles and Lando assure Max it's not his fault. IT hadn't been her plan. There was no note, not even a warning sign aside from her mental health declining.

Her father, who they now know was the catalyst for her relapse, is in jail. Christian made sure to get him put away so the boys wouldn't have to worry about it.

The other drivers came to the funeral. The journalists respect their wishes not to speak on the matter. They need to heal before they can even think about trying to explain how all three of them had taken time off.

The FIA pushed the races back since Redbull needed to sort things out. The memorial on the track has been visited by everyone on the team.

They tried so hard. They wanted her to stay. They can only hope that she found what she needed in whatever lies beyond this life.

[ancha-aus]

Ghost & Medium AU Drabble - The Necromancing Medium

Remember how I said I had an idea? That was angst and heartbreaking? This is the idea :D Again, still not sure if they will become a whole series thing.

The drabble is both a thank you for everyone being nice and drawing stuff and writing stuff! And also because I had an idea and as all of you know. I don't have self control :D

This one again includes a lot of my own headcanons for this idea/AU and even Dust. The most obvious one that I should probably mention? That Ash is the older brother and Dust is the younger brother.

Anyway. How Dust got so into necromancy and medium stuff and the tragedy that was his and his older brother's life.

WARNINGS: Child death. Survivor's guilt. implied child abuse. Child Neglect. Mention and implied child harrassment and molestation. attempt at child grooming (the bad BAD kind). technically attempted suicide. nothing is graphic or overexplained but it is implied and slightly mentioned.

I am serious. This one is angst and trauma filled and I am trying to not make it too triggering for anyone but please be careful, mind the warnings and if you aren't 18+ don't read.

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

Dust rubs his hands down his pants and checks the circle he made.

This has to work.

It just has too.

If this doens't work then... then...

Dust quickly grabs the book near him and squints his sockets at the writen words. It is old and written in another language but Dust has figured out most of it.

He is very lucky the library is open for eveyrone or else he would not have had a place to reasearch... or sleep... or wash up...

It doesn't matter. This ritual should fix everything.

Ash appears near him and glares at the drawn circle "Oh for crying out loud. Not another one of these."

Dust hugs the book closely "This one will be different..." It has to be.

Ash sighs as he floats near Dust "look... I appreciate it.. but i don't want to feel like i am being thorn apart again okay? It is about to rain soon anyway...." he looks up.

Dust nods "It has to rain..."

After all... it had rained the day Ash was murdered. It is part of the ritual to help the soul return.

Ash sighs and shakes his floating skull. He is clearly disappointed.

Dust frowns and tries to focus on the circle he is making. It has to be perfect. How else will he get Ash back?

He still remembers it so clearly.

Dust waits in his room for Ash to return from his after school activities. He is the star gymnastic at school and has a scholarship lined up for him for when he goes to college and to continue training.

Dust knows that it is just a matter of time before Ash is requested for the olympics. Ash is just that amazing! Even at fifteen Ash is many times better than most!

Dust himself doesn't have any after school activities. He normally just watches Ash and walks home with Ash afterwards. Dust gets why of course. He has no talents whatsoever. His parents have told him that many times.

At least Ash likes having him around and giving him ideas for tricks!

Dust looks at the clock and frowns. It is well past dinner time... their parents having gone out for food themselves.

He... he had hoped that when Ash got back Ash and him could make something together. ash had been teaching him how to cook. Said that it was an important skill for him to learn even if he was only ten.

More time passes. No one comes home.

It is half past eleven when the front door opens and Dust peaks out only to quickly disappear into his room again. His parents are home. Why isn't Ash home yet? Did he have another meetup? extra training? Did he go out wiht friends?

He goes to sleep uneasy and hungry.

His guts twist together and his dreams quickly form. Visions of lives never his own. of the restless spirits who try to speak to him and pull him along. Take his body and his energy.

Ash is the only one who believes him. When Dust told him that Dust hadn't thrown over the glass vase but a ghost had done it. When something went missing Dust swore he hadn't touched it. No one ever believed him. Except Ash.

The Dreams change and suddenly Ash stands before him. Looking angry.

Dust doesn't get it... Why is Ash angry? Ash is never angry with him.

Dust reaches for him "Ash?"

Ash pulls away from him. He looks furious "find me."

Dust blinks but takes a step away from his brother "what?"

Ash groans and waves out his arms "Find me! Use your stupid powers and find me!"

Dust doesn't understand. Why would he need to find him? "But.. you were at practise?"

Ash groans "Fuck you are just so stupid sometimes!"

That hurts and Dsut hugs himself "I... I will search?"

Ash goes to say something else but then he is gone.

Then Dust wakes up. it is still early but he grabs his few school things and escapes the house before his parents wake up. He rushes to school and looks around. Searching.

He isn't sure what he is searching for. But if Ash tells him he needs to find him he can. He will figure out why Ash would appear in his dreams like other spirits but that is for later. He needs to find his brother. Maybe he got locked in somewhere? Or maybe he got hurt and can't move?!

Dust rushes towards the gym

He quickly gets inside but every light is still off. Everything is cleaned up and empty. Then again it is only 6 and the morning workouts don't start until half past 6.

Still. Dust rushes towards the locker rooms and searching both sides. Finding nothing there he searches the toilets next before returning to the empty gym.

"Dust! what are you doing here?"

Dust jumps and turns quickly. It is the coach. Dust can never remember his name and honestly he never wants to. Dust... doesnt like being near the other. Something about him is off. Maybe it is because the spirits seem to glare at the coach whenever they pass. Maybe it is because Dust thinks the man stares too long when his brother practised.

Dust told Ash once. How he doesn't like Coach and how the spirits dislike him too. Ash had just smiled and said that Coach was actually always very nice and took them all serious and treated them as adults.

Dust shrugs at the teacher as the other waits for a reply. He mutters a weak excuse "wanted to see brother practise..." he rubs his arm.

Every spirit is screaming at him. He doesn't understand what they say. he thinks spirits need to be strong for him to be able to hear or see them but he can feel them still. The spirits are tugging at him. To go. to leave. to go with them? Dust doesn't know what they want.

Coach nods "I see! I am sorry to disappoint. I haven't seen your brother yet. Not since yesterday morning practise!"

Dust frowns "Ash doesn't skip." Ash never skips. He has more determination than anyone.

Coach nods "I agree. I was going to see if Ash joins us for practise today. If he didn't i was planning on calling your parents. Do you wish to wait with me?"

Dust shakes his skull "No that is okay... I am going to keep searching..." and he rushes out of the door before Coach can answer.

Dust can't believe he was that stupid. two years and he still feels like kicking himself in the skull for not seeing it sooner. To not realise it sooner. Maybe if he had noticed the obvious clues...

Ash wouldn't... He wouldn't have...

It doesn't matter.

Dust lays down another line and checks the ritual in the book. That all looks right and the same. He nods and reaches for his necklace.

Ash looks alarmed "Hey! What are you doing? Stop that my dust is in there!"

Dust freezes and mutters "I don't need all of it... just a tiny bit for the ritual..."

Ash looks deeply unhappy as he mutters "But it makes sure i am anchored to you still... at least until you can do the whole haunting bond thing."

Dust shrugs "if this works you won't need to anchor to your dust or me anymore." this will fix eveyrthing. He will make it right.

Ash looks unsure but floats near him as he gets things ready.

The news of Ash's disappearance shook the school. Dust swore he searched everywhere! He tried to get answers from Ash in his dreams but all the dream Ash told him was to 'search' and to 'actually think for once.'.

His parents were inconsolable. Neither were the teaches adn other students. Ash was loved. Ash was wanted. Ash had a bright future ahead of him.

Dust... Dust was lucky that Ash liked him...

Though... dream Ash didn't like him at all it seemed... dream Ash was just angry at him.

Dust knew what they whispered of course. It wasn't as if anyone tried to hide it. People spoke about how it was a shame that Ash had disappeared. How it was a shame it hadn't been Dust instead.

Dust tried not to let it bother him. He was always the weird kid. He had always been the weird kid. He spoke to people not there. strange things happened around him. Dust seemed to lie about thingsthat he obviously did because no one else was near to could ahve caused it.

He hadn't cared much before even if it hurt to not be believed becuase at least Ash had believed him.

His parents hadn't been for whispers however. They just looked at him and sneered that it should ahve been him who disappeared. not their dear golden boy who had such a bright future and would have made them proud. instead they were stuck with him, the disappointing freak.

Dust hadnt gone home since Ash didn't return home.

others whispered that Ash ran away.

But Dust knew that wasn't the case! It couldn't be! Ash... Ash wouldn't just leave! Not without him!

When their parents argued and on nights after they yelled at him. Ash would hold him close. promise that once he was old enough the two of them would just disappear. that Dust just had to be patient. Once Ash went to college he would take Dust wiht him and they would never have to see their parents ever again.

Ash... ash wouldn't break that promise. Ash was honest! Ash kept his promises! always!

Dust sobs as he hides beneath the seats. Hiding.

"Dust? Waht are you doing here?"

Dust blinks through the tears and looks up. He sobs as he pushes himself upright. Ash. Ash. IT IS ASH! He jumps to hug him only to go right through him and land in the mud leftover from the rain.

He turns and realises... he had been so focussed on his face that... that is only a floating skull and hands... but... but that can't be...

Ash flickers in and out of view. He moves his mouth clearly speaking but Dust can't hear anymore.

No... no no no no. He needs to tell people. Something terrible happened to Ash!

Dust finishes the last view lines and reads the information given in the book.

Ash frowns as he flies over and around it "It looks complex... Waht ritual is this even?"

Dust rechecks the text "A Life force transfer."

Ash blinks and turns sharply "what?"

Dust nods as he checks the different tinier circles to signify where eveyrone has to stand "I think... the reason why the other spells failed was because you don't have enough life force. which i think is just soul energy. You died and are just your left over soul energy now. that affects how you look and everything. It is why we need to anchor you with your dust." he taps his pendant. "Which is why we even use this."

Ash frowns and looks at the ritual considerate "So what... you think we just need to boost my life force and i may be able to be resurrected?"

Dust nods "That is the plan."

Ash frowns "I don't know about this Dust... stealing someone else's life?"

Dust shrugs "It is fine. The one who gives it needs to be willing."

Ash snrots and shakes his skull "Who would be an idiot big enough to give their life force awya freely?"

Dust shrugs "don't worry... i got that part of the ritual covered. Mind going over there? I need to check if the runes to transfer the energy to you would work."

No one believed him.

Everyone just looked at him with pity when he told them he saw his brother's spirit.

that his brother had been murdered or got into an accident.

He wouldn't have left him otherwise!

No one believed him. No one.

The funeral was terrible. He hated every second of it as they jsut spoke some words. They didn't even have his brother's dust to spread on his favourite things.

his parents wanted to do a burial. Even though Dust knew Ash hated the idea of being underground. All that meant was that most things important to Ash were being burried.

forever out of reach. Now he can't even get comfort out of those things.

Dust goes home wiht his parents but neither look at him beyond this dirty look. Dust doesn't care. He has a mission.

His brother's spirit is weak. very weak. He can do some rituals to strengthen it maybe. normally offerings and stuff like that works to get spirits to be stronger, at least for a little while.

If Dust wants to find his brother he needs to do that.

He grabs what he needs and goes back to the school. It is where Ash spend most of his time and most liekly has the strongest imprint of him. Not to forget dust saw him on the sport field. He gets there and makes the offering.

A flicker. Dust smiles but Ash just looks panicked. Telling him to go. let him go as well.

Dust shakes his head. he can't let go of Ash.

Ash is still too weak to say a lot but a tiny bit gets through "... stay away... coach..."

oh. it is so obvious! Of course the creepy coach had something to do with it! Dust stands up and looks at the gym. So that is where the answers lie. Ash looks more panicked but Dust just smiles at him "It is okay Ash... I swear i will fix this!"

He will find out what happened. make sure Coach got what he deserved for hurting his brother and then... then... Ash can move on... Ash will be able to rest...

Ash will leave him...

No. don't think like that. Ash deserves to move on. Ash deserves to find peace! even if it means Dust will lose him forever. He won't force Ash to become a wandering restless spirit.

Ash is shaking his skull at him and trying to keep him from going towards the gym. That is fair. it ist still night. He will need a better timing for this. luckily it is the weekend soon and he will be able to get to work.

Dust nods and smiles "ther. everything is in place."

Ash frowns as he floats above it "so let me be clear." he points to one spot "this is the spot of the life force giver." he floats to another spot "This is the spot of the life force gainer, me?" Dust nods and Ash floats to the small circle wiht the tiny bit of dust "why is the dust needed?"

Dust looks to the side "To make your body... I had to combine the ritual to give you life force and to give you a body... otherwise you would just get m- the giver's body and i doubted you like that."

Ash blinks and snorts "I thought you tod me that performing two rituals at once is too dangerous for mixups or to drain you." he grins at him "You can be so forgetful sometimes."

Dumb and stupid and useless-

Dust shrugs "It is better if it is done at once..." he mutters softer "only get one chance at this..."

Ash frowns at him and flaots over "hey... i know i made a big deal of the whole... it hurting thing before... but if you mess up and mix up words we can try again." he grins "I am already dead anyway. can't get much deader!"

Dust shrugs "maybe..." No. there is only one chance at this. It has to be perfect.

He gets one chance at this.

Dust stands before the office of the coach and takes a deep breath. trying to ignore the panicked flickering vision of his brother.

He was such an idiot. his brother had tried to warn him before in his dreams. yet Dust hadn't seen the signs. if he had done this that day... Ash may still be alive.

It is oaky though. Dust can do this.

He knocks on the door.

everything in the air is screaming at him. spirits of his past victims maybe? All trying to warn him to run and hide. Dust will not let his brother become just another wandering spirit. stuck to this disgusting excuse of a person.

The door opens and the coach gives a wide smile "Dust! I am so happy to see you. How are you doing? The news of your brother must have devastated you."

Dust nods and mutters "I miss him.. a lot.. but he liked gymnastics... i was wondering... could i get some training?"

The man blinks before his smile grows and he looks very excited "of course! It is an amazing thing to want to connect with your brother that way. such a grown up thing to do to!" he steps aside.

Dust is about to take a step when ash appears in the doorway. his arms crossed and him shaking his skull.

Dust takes a deep breath and walks into the office.

Coach and him... talk... it is mostly about ash. How ash was so far ahead of everyone. the hardest worker and how he was admired by everyone around him. How he enchanted people.

Dust agrees of course. his brother is the best. Which is why he is here.

Coach mentions that it may be hard for Dust to do what Ash did. As ash was older and had been training from a young age. But that he was willing to give Dust private lessons and tutoring to get him ona level where he can safely join the others in class. That the Coach would be happy to guide him and teach him anything he could want.

Dust mutters it sounds interesting and that he just wants to be closer to Ash. at least feel closer to him again.

The coach smiles and petted his shoulder as he stood behind him, it raised every instinct in Dust to run but he stayed put. The coach muttered about how that was a very grown up and honourable thing to do. Asking him again how old he was.

Dust answered truthfully that he is ten and the coach hummed "You act much older." he smirks.

Dust mentions that he should go to class but the coach just pats his shoulder. saying that he will have a word with his teachers and see if Dust can skip a few days of class to get some training and practise in. get those private classes started right away.

Dust eaisly agreed and nodded when the coach told him to stay put before he rushed out.

Dust immediantly got off his chair and started to search through the office. It didn't take long until he found a locked drawer. another weak spirit. one of a young human girl appeared before him. and held up numbers wiht her fingers. 4. 5. 3. 9.

Dust entered the numbers and the lock springs open. He looks inside and finds a file and a camera. He takes out his own old phone, a gift from Ash for emergencies. and takes a picture of what he found.

then he looks through the file and... oh... oh god.

Dust shakes as he feels vomit crawl up his throat. No. focus. he aims his camera and snaps a picture. Of every picture in there. of every child in tears and bond as the coach... touches... them...

He is shaking by the end before he reaches for the camera. searching and snapping pictures.

Find him. find him. find him. he has to-

found him.

Dust manages to take a picture before refering to his very first picture. he places everything back in the same place nad relocks the lock. and then he waits.

The coach returns with his homeroom teacher who gently reminds him that he can't just skip classes to learn gymnastic. but that he could look into getting him into it as a past school activity.

Dust nods nad mutters that he understands. trying to remain calm and hoping everything about him just screams disappointed over sick to the stomach.

He walks out of the office phycially fine.

But this isn't the end. He has one more thing to do.

Ash yawns as he looks up at the sky "Rain is still coming."

Dust hums "need rain. It was raining when you left your body. Need stuff to be alike."

Ash hums as he floats near the book wiht a frown "Hey Dust."

Dust nods "yeah?"

Ash speaks "I am not fluent in this language... what does this whole paragraph about pain passing?"

Dust feels his hand shake but forces it still "oh... it is part of the life force ritual... the giver... gives the life force... but to make it work to strengthen the one who gets it... well. the trauma of the one receiving it needs to go... so when the life force gets given the one who gives also takes the pain of the other... so waht they felt when they died. i think." Dust isn't looking forwards to that part. but maybe it is for the better.

After all.

It would ahve been better if Dust had died instead of Ash.

He is just righting a wrong.

He doesn't take this information to the teachers. or his parents. or the principle.

Dust walks 10 miles towards the police station. He goes right to the man at the reception and laid down his phone "Got the proof you needed that my brother was murdered."

It would be an udnerstatement to say that brought chaos.

The policeman behind the counter had at first looked amused but then he grabbed his phone adn started to scroll through the pictures. Each one making the other look more horrified.

Dust was rushed into a room with a very nice lady who asked him if he had any allergies or any health issues. Dust shook his skull.

another policeman returned with his phone and thanked him for his brave actions and that he was asking a lot of him that he would need to continue to be brave.

Dust didn't see it as being brave but answered the questions. Why he searched. He was honest. They looked sceptical when he mentioned ghosts.

Dust was ready to start crying. after everything. everything he did. would they not believe him? He was being honest. he doesn't know what else to do and-

And something had appeared on the white board. a pen floating and slowly writing the words "My brother is right. I am here. please... please listen..."

if there was chaos before it was nothing compared to this. the people working there got to work in a frenzy. They send people to the school to investigate. they called in professionals from the bigger cities and priests as well.

They asked him so many questions. if the coach had hurt him. if he had seen anything else. noticed anything.

Dust told them what he knew and noticed before just having to wait.

An high priest of some church came by. someone who could speak wiht spirits. the priest took one look around the room and spoke about how there are many spirits nearby. the priest than looked at Dust and nodded. saying it is nice to meet a new medium. something about him having talent for it and being a strong medium.

Dust didn't feel strong. he said as much. if he had been strong he would have known ages ago that something was seriously wrong with the coach.

The priest tells him he did amazing. more than amazing. but that this burden shouldn't have been his. that others should have notified people specialised in things in this nature as soon as Dust showed promise.

In the end it was anticlimatic. the coach was thrown in prison but he wouldn't admit where he hid Ash's body.

In the end Ash showed Dust where he ahd been burried. right under the playing field. and there were more hallow graves under there.

Dust hadn't been able to stop himself. as soon as the thing holding his brother's remains had opened he had thrown himself in. Only dust. of course there was only dust and left over clothes left.

scratching marks on the coffin. Ash had tried to get out...

Dust finally cries.

Dust nods and steps back "all ready. Ash? can you go to your spot?"

Ash floats over lazily "finally. I am honestly getting impatient. I think you actually got this one Dust." Ash looks excited "It would be awesome to be alive again."

Dust smiles as he slowly inches towards his spot "You could pick up gymnastics again?"

Ash groans "maybe. Coach kinda ruined that experience though... but college is still fun. What do you think? Think i can still be a cook?" he grins "You can also go back to highschool then. actually finish your own schooling."

Dust smiles as he gets near the offering circle "of course you could."

Ash nods as he looks around "so... who did you manage to convince to give over the life force and stuff? Someone already sick? someone very old?" Ash grins at him.

Dust is hoenstly trying to smile for his brother. but he is so scared. his whole arm is shaking.

Ash frowns "Dust?"

Dust takes a deep breath and steps in his circle.

Ash's sockets widen "what are you doing?! Get the fuck out of there!" he goes to fly over but the circle keeps him in his spot. a safety meassurement. It had been to make sure ash didn't accidentally leave his circle.

Dust slowly raises his hands as he tries to keep his panicking soul calm "it is okay... should be quick."

Ash shakes and looks furious "NO! YOu get out of that circle right now or so help me! I don't agree with this! I don't! This is not willing! I don't want this!"

the ritual circle that had all been glowing a soft green turns red and Dust can feel the affect that had been slowly starting to take place stop. Dust stares down adn glares at Ash "what are you doing? I am fixing things!"

Ash shakes his skull "this isn't fixing shit! You would be dead!"

Dust glares "So?! Everyone would be hapyp with it!"

silence around them.

Ash reaches for him "Dusty..."

Dust shakes as he tries to calm his shaking. stop being dramatic. you are twelve now. get over it. Ash can come back now. as seventeen and still pick up his life again.

Don't ruin this.

Dust rubs the tear away as he mutters "Just let me fix this..."

Ash shakes his skull "I don't want this..."

Dust glares "since when not!? You are always telling me how much you miss being alive. How much you wished you could ahve just amde a run for it when you were alive! How you would eat better food! Visit cooler places! Actually go to college and make something of your life!" Dust shakes "I know this is wasted on me... This chance... jsut take it!" he is shaking and crying "Just let me fix this... let me do soemthing that makes you love me again..."

The shaking gets to back and Dust just grumbles to the ground. He is so tired. everything is hard and no one likes him. No one trusts him. His parents left him as soon as Dust had to stay at the police station. Is it so bad? so bad that he just wnats his brother to love him again? if only for a few moments? and then just sleep forever?

the glow disappears as his concentration breaks and Dust tries to pull hismelf together. Rub his tears from his sockets as he tries to mutter the start of the spell again.

He feels Ash close and he flinches "sorry... i can do it and..."

"don't... please don't..." Ash looks heartbroken as he floats near him "damnit i wish i coudl hug you..."

Dust sobs and nods "me too..." his last hug was the mornign before Ash went to that last faithful practise.

Ash speaks softly "you don't ahve to fix anything..."

Dust shakes his skull "but if i hadn't been so dumb i would have known it were other victims. i could have warned you!"

Ash just shakes his skull "Not your fault."

Dust sobs "If... if i had searched faster i could ahve found you sooner."

ash shakes his skull again.

Dust looks downa dn mutters "i messed something up... and now you can't move on... I keep you stuck here because i don't want to be alone..."

Ash snorts and shakes his skull "Dust... you did everything right. You got my murderer brought to justice and you guys found my remains. I had felt it. I had been able to move on right then and there but... well..." he looks at dust "I wasn't going to leave you after that.."

dust looks down and rubs his tear angry "so... you feel like you ahve to stay because i am weak and pathetic..." he needs to do this ritual. give ash the life he deserves and-

Ash laughs "no you dum-dum." he grins "I am here because i don't want to move on without you." Ash floats around him and rests on his skull. Dust can't feel pressure from him but he feels the energy of his brother near "there was no way i was going to leave you because i don't want to leave you. It is just as much for me as it is for you dusty. You are my brother."

Dust feels hismefl relax "i am sorry."

Ash gently hushes him "hush. No need to feel sorry, well aside form the fact you scared the unliving daylight out of me. Promise me you will never do something this stupid ever again. No giving your life or soul or any of that or the energy of either to others. you hear me?!"

Dust laughs and nods "promise..."

Ash hums "good. Now. Mess up this ritual circle thing. and burn the pages of the book detailing it."

Dust frowns "but what if we actually ened it and-"

Ash hushes him "no. None of that. No life force trading."

Dust sighs but does as told. messes up his circle. retrieves his brother's dust. and he uses a lighter to burn the page of the book holding the ritual.

Ash nods "much better."

Dust sighs as he starts to leave the forest "I don't know any other way to bring you back."

Ash shrugs as he floats with him "we aren't in a hurry."

dust frowns "you will miss things you could do in life?"

Ash grins "that is the great part. you can always catch up. I don't ened to be young to go to college. to start to learn how to cook. or any of that." he floats around him and it now looks like they are both wearing the red scarf "so no hurry."

DUst sighs and nods before muttering "we are going to have to find a stronger anchor for you. at least until i am old and strong enough to be the anchor myself."

Ash nods "much better. Time yo go to our favourite spot the library and do some research. AFTER! You ate and showered. You are soaking wet and don't think i didn't notice you skipped breakfast again."

Dust nods and sets into the right direction. Maybe one day he will figure it out. For now he will jsut learn what he can.

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

[imtryingbuck]

Ten

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Y/n L/n becomes Queen of Astoria not that she wanted to. Prince James of Winterfeld meets her and falls in love.

Word count: 4,072

Warnings: angst. fluff. swearing. mentions of beheading. mentions of death during childbirth. mention of suicide (jumping out of a window) mentions of murdering people. mentions of being a bastard(?)

Masterlist   Series Masterlist

When the kings headless body fell to the ground with a heavy thud all of his remaining soldiers dropped their swords in surrender, and in hopes they would be speared, Y/n told them to collect their fallen men and go home as her own did the same. Just as they were getting ready to leave a horse galloped towards them, the rider removed his helmet before getting down.

Y/n’s lips puffed out when she came face to face with the son of the king she had just beheaded.

“Queen Y/n.” Placing his helmet under his arm, he shocked her by getting down on one knee. “A pointless war that you won gracefully, a war that I did not want nor a lot of the men. I must admit despite your beauty I did not want to marry you, my father was not happy that I also chose to marry for love and not for an alliance. I do not want wish for anymore conflict between our two kingdoms, two kingdoms that always had a friendship long before our fathers were born. I hope we can put this behind us and continue working together.”

“The woman that you love, have you asked for her hand?”

He looks shocked by her question but smiles and shakes his head. “Not yet, why?”

“Stand up.” He stands and gives Carlson a look of confusion. “When you marry, I would like to be invited. As you said today’s battle was pointless and like you I hope our kingdoms can go back to how they were.”

The prince now king bows his head and smiles at her, she returns the gesture, before walking up to Carlson and Bucky.

The dowager Queen watched alongside Larissa as Y/n’s armour was lifted off of her body showing the bloody clothes she had been wearing underneath, both women flinching when her clothes were taken off her showing the large dark bruises decorating her skin. The maesters examined her thoroughly - annoying her more than anything - before they were happy with themselves that all she had on her was bruises and not anything worse.

“Mother I have told you-“

“I do not care what you have said, you are my daughter. I worry about you.”

“I am twenty one years old now, you do not have to wash my hair!”

“Starlight.”

“Mother.”

“I am washing your hair and that is final.” Y/n pulls a face at Larissa causing her to giggle. “Did she just pull a face?” Pulling another face, one with her eyes crossed and her tongue sticking out, Larissa giggles once more.

“I have done no such thing mother.” She puts on the most innocent voice she can muster, she pulls another face.

“Starlight, you do realise that there is a mirror in front of you, do you not?”

Making eye contact with her mother through the mirror the face she was pulling drops. “Oh.” For the first time in such a long time her mum truly laugh, which causes her heart to flutter, she missed her mums laugh so much - it was so infectious that always caused her to laugh along when she was younger.

Finally getting out of the bath and dried, her mum along with Larissa helped her get dressed, both her mum and Larissa talking about the feast that was being held as celebration for the army coming home victorious.

“I am going to see Storm before the feast.” Y/n informed her mum.

“Please do not take long.”

“I will not, do not fret mother.” She winks at her mum as she leaves her chambers, rolling her eyes as her guards fall into step a few paces behind her - still not use to them following her around.

Rounding the corner to the stables her eyebrows furrow together at seeing her sister standing there with the stable boy, both standing there with their cheeks tinted red, both smiling bashfully at each other, both not realising that Y/n standing there with an amusing grin on her face - that was until she cleared her throat and startling the pair causing them to jump apart.

“Sis- My Grace.”

“Annalise. Liam.”

“My Q-Queen.”

“How is Storm?”

“He is well. There is no injury to him and I made his stall very comfortable for him.” Liam told her. He was often overlooked and belittled by those around him all because he had a stutter - but never when he spoke about horses - and wasn’t educated but Y/n didn’t care of those things, he was strong, smart when it came to horses, plus he was the only person other than herself and Carlson that she trusted with Storm.

“Has he eaten yet?”

Walking over to Storms stall she chuckles when Liam says. “I fear I have been spoiling him my Grace.”

“You always spoil him Liam.”

“I know.”

“Anna… why are you here?”

“I- well- I thought I would come and check up on the horses.” Annalise stuttered at first then sounded like she was trying to not only convince her sister but herself, she knew that her sister wasn’t stupid by any means though she hoped she wouldn’t humiliate her in front of Liam.

“Right…” Pressing a kiss to Storms nose she lets him go back to eating the sack full of carrots Liam had put into his stall, she turns and goes over to her younger sister. “I bet Liam appreciates your visits.” Raising her hand to her sister’s hair, she smiles and winks. “Be sure to get all the hay from your hair before you come inside so mother does not see.”

“I-I-“

Twirling a piece of hay that she removed from Annalise’s hair she chuckles, both Anna and Liam going bright red, Y/n winks at the two before leaving, only to stop at the doors to the stable. “Make sure you invite Liam to the feast.”

The music playing in the great hall was being drowned out by men retelling their story of the battle that was being dubbed as the pointless battle, stories of their heroics having those who wasn’t there hanging on to every word they heard. Y/n sat at the head table with Carlson to her right and Bucky to her left laughing at the tales they were hearing, some of the men dramatising their experiences having them sharing looks of humour.

“To our Warrior Queen!” Gus shouts standing on the table he holds his goblet up high, smiling as more men stood up doing the same.

The hall erupted in chanting. “To our Warrior Queen!” making Y/n blush from the attention.

Standing up she raises her own goblet and smiles. “To all of you. To all of our fallen men. To our victory.” As everyone cheers she winces whilst watching their ale slosh out of their cups and drench the ground.

As everyone got more drunk and fuller on the food that was on the tables, Y/n leaned further into Bucky’s seat - their hands holding each other.

“Want to go for a ride with me?” She chuckles and rolls her eyes as he chokes in his ale. “Do not be dirty!”

“I am sorry.” He chuckles. “You do mean a horse ride, right?”

“Yes!”

“Lead the way then.”

Of course the only people who notice them both leaving is Carlson, Larissa, Steve and Sam but none of them make any comments as the two left the great hall hand in hand.

They’re both silent as they go towards the stables, the cold air biting at their skin though neither makes a comment or the attempt to cover up, when Storm sees her his hoofs beat against the ground - his way of telling her that he was happy to see her.

“Hi my pretty boy.” She presses a kiss to his nose quickly before going over to Winter. “If you did not realise, she is yours now.”

“She is?”

“Yes. Plus she likes you. I have a new saddle being made for you.” She replied as she led Winter out of the stall.

“You do not have to do that for me.”

“Of course I do, you are to be my husband soon that is unless you do not want to mar-“ Bucky quickly cuts the rest of her words off by pressing his lips against hers. The thought of her thinking that he didn’t want to marry her caused his heart to ache, all he wanted was to marry her.

“You cannot get rid of me even if you wanted to.”

“Not yet.” She winked, her skin starts to tingle as he lets out the most infectious laughter, she makes a mental note to make him laugh more. “Let’s get these saddles on these babies so we can go.”

And they do, helping each other with the saddles Bucky helps her with her dress as she gets on top of Storm, Bucky had no idea where Y/n was taking him but he was happy to follow her wherever she would go, following her like a shadow. They were mostly silent as they traveled to the unknown location, as they began to slow down Bucky’s eyes widen at the scene.

A large rectangular pond that was big enough for three fountains to be placed inside, on either side of the pond were large marble statues of past kings and queens of Astoria, on each corner were lit lanterns high above making Bucky able to see everything clearly - he wondered who was lighting them at night until he saw the guards surrounding the peaceful garden.

“My Queen, my Prince.” One of the guards lowered his head as he greeted them.

“Hello, how are you?”

“I am well, how are you my Grace?”

“Good. I am well. You have had something to eat, right?”

As Y/n spoke with the guard Bucky’s attention went to the row of white roses to the side of him, as he looked around he noticed that there were rows and rows of the beautiful flowers surrounding the area. He ever so slightly ran his fingers across the soft white petal, he was so lost in thought he didn’t realise Y/n was standing behind him.

“My great-great-great grandfather had white roses planted here for his wife as they were her favourite flowers.”

Jumping slightly he made sure that he didn’t pull the petal off before turning his head to the side to look at her. “They are beautiful.”

“Come, I will introduce you to them.” Holding her hand out she smiled as he was quick to put his hand in hers. Leading him over to the first statue that was at the head of the pond, she looked up at them. “His name was Henry, she was Mary. Love at first sight, they said, according to the story is that Mary died on the birthing bed, a son was born. Henry was wrecked by grief that he handed his son to the maid and locked himself in the room with Mary, it is said that they could hear him talking to her and replying as if she was speaking to him, it took them a whole month for them to finally convince him to leave the room and for them to finally bury her.”

Bucky’s eyes widened at hearing the story, his heart broke for the king that was way before his time, he loved his wife so much that he didn’t want to leave her though she had left the world - leaving him and their baby son. He couldn’t imagine what or how he was feeling when the realisation hit him that he needed to let his wife go.

“He had a statue made of her, it was placed here as this was the place they first met - the place that she told him that she was with child. His Hand told him to marry so he could have more children but he refused, and as time went on he went mad as he always spoke to her even though she was no longer by his side, they soon gave him the nickname The Mad King. A week after his son turned eighteen Henry ended his life by throwing himself out of the window, the same window that was in the room where Mary had died, the same window that faces the pond. The first order his son made as king was for a statue of his father to be made and placed next to his mother.”

“That is…”

“A sad beautiful story.”

“Yes. Do you think that he did it to be with her?”

“I do.” Placing a kiss to the hand of Mary then of Henry’s she bowed her head. Bucky doing the same as soon as she moved away, following behind her when she moved to another statue. “It seems as if history repeated itself when Henry’s son, John, lost his wife on the birthing bed, a son was born and John became mad but this time he killed innocent people. He too jumped out of the window.”

“Why? Why did he kill people?”

“Nobody knows, some say that he wanted revenge but for what, I do not know.“

“What about others?”

“They never said other than that he was a king that should not have been.”

“Why?”

“What kind of king kills his own people? Whether or not he was wrecked with grief he should not have done that.”

Once again she kisses the hands of the statues before moving onto the next one, giving the story behind her relatives, each one more tragic than the rest it seemed. When she gets to her grandparents a small smile made its way to her lips.

“My grandmother was an orphan, born a bastard to a whore and a farmer, she was ten and my grandfather was twelve when they met. As soon as she turned fourteen he asked her hand in marriage which obviously was very scandalous - a prince falling in love with a lowborn, shocking.” She chuckled. “But he was the third born child so his father allowed him to do as he wished, my grandfather had just turned thirty when the kings guard came for him - bringing him back to the castle, two weeks later he was crowned king. The people knew of my grandmothers background yet did not care, they loved her as her main focus was for the townspeople, making sure that none were left to starve as those before her did.”

Wiping a fallen tear she smiled sadly. “My grandmother died before I was born, I was told that the people cried as her coffin went through the kingdom, for weeks everyone wore nothing but black only to be lining up to watch as my grandfathers coffin go by. They say he died of a broken heart which I believe.”

“Y/n…”

“People whisper that my family is cursed thanks to the king that should not have been, the whispers got louder when my father took the throne.”

“Why?”

“My father was not the oldest.”

“So why was he king?”

“My uncle stepped down from the throne, the people believe that he was too scared of the curse, but that was not true, my father wanted the throne because of the power that comes with it.” Casting a glance at the statue of her father Bucky swore he could see the hatred in her eyes. “He threatened my uncle, he told my uncle that he would have his wife and children killed if he went ahead with the coronation, my uncle loves his wife and children more than he loved the idea of being king so my father was crowned.”

“Where is your uncle now?”

“The king that never was, as the people call him, is a farmer. Last I saw him was when my father died, though he is old he still acts as if he is a child.” She chuckles before pressing a kiss to her grandparents statued hands and bowing. “You know my mother, her story is not tragic aside from her husband getting a second wife.”

“I notice that there is not a statue of your stepmother, why is that?”

“It is currently being made, my father did not want her to be in the family garden as he did not love her, though we did not see eye to eye she is the mother of my sisters so therefore she is my family.” She looks up at him and grins.

His lips instantly widen as he smiles at her. “What?”

“I am the Queen.”

“That you are.”

“Which means that my very own statue will be made.”

“Indeed.”

“You are to be my husband.”

“Which I cannot wait for.”

“Which means that a statue of you will be made and placed next to mine.”

Bucky chuckles and nods. “I suppose.”

“Do not fret sweetheart, I will make sure they capture your beauty.”

“Thank you, I was worrying for a moment there.” She laughs, stopping when an unattractive snort leaves her, even in the moonlight he can see her cheeks heat up in embarrassment but to him she had no reason to be embarrassed, she was the most perfect woman he had ever had the blessing to lay eyes on let alone know.

“I am sorry, that was not lady-“

“It was perfect, just as you are.” He gently cups her face with his hand and rests his forehead against hers. “But do remember that I will be bringing this up in the future.”

“You would not!” He presses a kiss to her forehead before walking away, putting his hands behind his back and he starts whistling, pretending to look at the rest of what the garden has to offer, forcing himself not to laugh as he hears her follow him repeating. “You would not.”

Dresses upon dresses covered her bed. Servants rushing around. Food being left untouched on the table. Her sisters were talking whilst helping each other with their hair. Her mother sat on the chair dabbing her eyes with a lace handkerchief watching her oldest daughter be helped with her wedding dress.

When all was finally ready they stood outside the chapel to wait for the doors to open, she took a deep breath in and slowly exhaled in hopes to get her heart beat to slow down - for the first time in her life she was scared.

Arm in arm with Carlson she walked slowly down the aisle to where Bucky was waiting, he was right in saying her dress was made fit only for a queen and that he would have the largest smile on his face… as well as tears glistening in his eyes.

Before she could even realise what was being said or done, they were being announced as man and wife. She beamed up at him before their lips touched in a passionate yet short kiss, the whole chapel erupting into cheers.

The people cheered and cried at seeing their Queen and King coming out of the chapel, throwing flowers along with shouting their prayers and wishes. Carlson watched from the side and had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing at seeing the dazed look on his best friend, his queens face.

Y/n only seemed to snap out of it when Bucky stood and moved around the table with Steve and Sam coming up behind him, his hand resting on top of the handle of his sword he smiled softly at her and got down on his knee.

“I pledge my love and loyalty to you. Always. My Queen.”

Steve and Sam knelt down and in unison say: “I pledge my loyalty to you. Always. My Queen.” All three stand when she smiles and nods.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur, she does remember dancing with Bucky then Carlson, she remembers seeing Annalise dancing with Liam, her mum and Winnie dancing together whilst George danced with her youngest sister.

But most importantly she remembers smiling throughout the whole thing, slightly dreading the ache in her cheeks that awaits her tomorrow but it didn’t matter as she was now a married woman to a man she loves.

When it came time for the bedding ceremony, Larissa along with her mother and maids took her to her chambers, as they undressed her she could hear Bucky arguing with the maester outside - something along the lines of that no one would be witnessing their coupling. Even her mother went out to argue about it not taking place which she was ever grateful for.

When everyone left and Bucky came in it helped that she could see that he too was nervous for what was about to happen, he twisted his ring around his finger - the same ring she had placed on him only a few hours ago. “Y-your mother called me king. She scares me a little.”

“You are now the king, and why does she scare you?” She chuckled.

“Do- have you gotten used to be called queen?”

“No and I do not think I ever will.”

Taking a step forward he stops. “I am meant to be your prince consort.”

She does the same. “I am Queen and you are my husband.”

A playful smile on his lips as he takes another step forward. “But that is not how it is done.”

Doing as she did before, she copies him. “Whilst my sisters were learning what it is to be wives and how to do their jobs as women I was on the training ground fighting.”

Bucky squints his eyes as he steps closer to her. “Meaning?”

“Meaning I have never done things correctly.” She says as she gets closer to him, the gap between them now smaller.

“I noticed but people will not be happy.”

“People were cheering our king meaning that they see you as you are. Their king.”

Bucky closes the small distance between the pair and smiles down at her. “As you say, my queen.”

“Now tell me why my mother scares you?”

“It was when she was telling the maester off, they were adamant of being in the room with us.”

“She knew I was nervous and promised me that she would make sure they would not be in here, I am sorry.”

Cupping her face with both of his hands he shakes his head. “Do not be sorry, I did not want them here either.”

“Thank you.” Her eyes dart between his to his lips, and lightly licks her own. “Do- should- I…”

“What is it, my love?”

“Should we… you know?” Gods she felt so stupid, she’s been on so many battle fields, she’s been struck by an arrow, she’s been slashed with swords and beaten, yet here she was stumbling over her words.

Rubbing his thumb across her cheek he smiles softly at her. “Only if you wish to.”

“I do!” She blurted blushing when he chuckles. “I mean I would like to.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, no, he dips his head closer to hers and kisses her, slowly at first as he was trying to savour the moment, smiling when she starts taking the lead - the kiss growing more heated. When he feels her tug at his clothes he instantly understands her silent words, without breaking the kiss he starts to undress himself, shivering slightly as her hand comes into contact with his bare chest, his stomach clenching as her hand starts to trail downwards.

Laying her down on the bed he stood in between her legs and stared down at her - grinning when she started to blush. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on.”

Both were wrapped in each other’s arms breathless as the smell of sex lingered in the air, Bucky traced invisible patterns on her bare skin as she played with the ring on his finger.

“Bucky?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Can we do that again?”

Bucky’s laugh bounced off the walls as she looked up at him with the most innocent eyes she could muster, and when she gives him the cutest pout he had ever seen, who was he to say no to his queen?

He felt slightly bad for those still awake in the castle as neither one of them made any attempt to conceal their moans.

Only slightly.

<Previous   Next>

Tags: @sapphirebarnes | @sebastians-love | @sidraaaaaaaaa | @mrsnikstan | @barnesxstan | @hi172826 | @alexdarkacademia | @supraveng | @baw1066

[lbulldesigns]

AITAH FOR GHOSTING MY FAMILY AND FRIENDS FOR THREE YEARS, FOR MY OWN MENTAL HEALTH?

Posted 7th of January, 2024

Disclaimer: mentions of self-harm, violence, and attempted suicide.

Please bear with me. This post will be long.

I (20f) have been estranged from my family for the past three years.

I want to start off by saying that my family aren't bad people. They were never abusive, and they did care for me, but they could never understand me or the full extent of my issues.

Some background. When I was around five, my sister (26f), we'll call her V, and I witnessed our parents' death at the hands of some trigger-happy Enforcers. We don't know why they decided our parents deserved to die, but they did, and we were left orphaned when the authorities couldn't find any other family to take us in.

We bounced around in the system for a while, fearing being torn from each other at any moment, before a family friend was able to foster and then officially adopt us. Our AD (adoptive dad) was a godsend, he was and still (to my knowledge) is the most patient and gentle man I know. Despite looking like a wolf LOL.

Along with gaining a new father we also gained two brothers (twin 23m) the older twin (C) takes after our dad, Kind and patient. The younger twin (M) however is a little nasty bitch, who took upon himself to make my life in particular an ongoing hell. He was never physically abusive, but he was verbally abusive. It felt like not a day would go by when he wasn't putting me down and treating my existence like it was something insignificant. He never had a problem with V, just me.

For the first six years everyone else would defend me, put him in his place, and overall hold him accountable but at some point, they stopped holding him accountable and just expected me to grow a thicker skin. I still remember the day when I went crying to my sister and rather than comfort me, just rolled her eyes and asked if I could maybe not take him seriously because she needed to finish her group project. To her credit, she apologised for that but it was hard to rely on her after that.

Long story short, M made my home life unbearable, and I had bullies at school that made it unbearable. Especially once I was in high school and my best (and only) friend started making friends of his own. I want to say that I was cool with this, but in reality, I turned into an absolute brat and refused to get along with any of them. I wish I didn't, but I just couldn't help but feel betrayed and genuinely acted on those emotions.

And this is how I was with everyone. Constantly betrayed and acting out. It was no wonder everyone I knew got sick of me.

My Dad was constantly worrying about me.

My older brother avoided me as much as possible, to avoid my outbursts.

My sister was just constantly swinging between feeling guilty, angry, and just done with my constant outbursts. Especially when these outbursts were directed at her girlfriend, who constantly talked about how she wanted to be an Enforcer to protect others (take a wild guess why I couldn't like her). V even slapped me for something I said (I can't remember what) to her GF that made her cry.

And my best friend... hates me.

It's my own fault, obviously.

What led to the title of my post is this.

I told my (former) best friend that I loved him and wanted to be with him, and he just raged at me. Apparently, he was seeing someone and thought that I was pulling something in order to break them up. He didn't believe me when I said that I didn't know he was in a relationship (I genuinely didn't know) but he wouldn't hear it and called me an AH and said he was done with me.

I felt humiliated and heartbroken, when I got home that day I was crying and M was the first person, unfortunately, who I came across. And the first thing he does is scoff and roll his eyes, and said "fucking crybaby".

I don't fully remember what happened, I blacked out, but I remember my dad pulling me off of M and his face was a bloody mess. I'm pretty sure that I broke his nose and then some, my dad was so angry. The angriest I've ever seen him; he actually shook me by the shoulders and demanded what was wrong with me. And when I couldn't answer, they told me to get out. Which I did.

I just bolted from the house, the sound of shouting behind me, and just kept running until I got to the Bridge of Progress.

I was just so empty and lost, and the water below looked so tempting. I was about to end it all when my guardian angel showed up.

Ez (21m) was walking by when he saw me about to jump and, without hesitation, climbed up next to me and asked what we were doing.

He saved me that day, without even trying. He listened to my whining and rather than offer me empty promises of "it'll be okay" instead said "girl you messed up. Wanna go on an adventure with me?"

We've been friends ever since.

I took him on his offer and went home to collect some things, when I got there the lights were off so I climbed up to my bedroom window and let myself in. I grabbed my clothes, some saved up cash, my laptop, and my documents (in case I needed them) and left a note for my family saying "bye".

And that was three years ago. I haven't been in contact with them, I don't follow them on social media, and I left my mobile behind so they were never able to get hold of me.

I completely and utterly. Ghosted them. And I don't entirely regret it.

In the last three years I have gained close friends, experienced new things, seen interesting things, and have felt well enough to actually want to seek therapy. My mental health improved greatly, although I still have issues but still am lot better than I was before.

However, I can't help but feel like an AH. My family weren't bad, just fed up. They are genuinely good people (even M) it's just that I bring the worst out in people. But recently I've been wondering if I should reach out or not.

What if doing so disrupts their lives? What if my leaving improved their lives?

I don't know.

AITAH if I reach out to my family after ghosting them for three years?

(This is a fanfic. Please read tags)

[coff-in]

HIIII!!! I would like to request a Baby sis reader x Ashley and Andrew were Reader is like their personal nurse and has the most out of pocket impulsive though and isn't afraid of saying them when she wants.

Like we're they would be standing near the ledge if a bridge and Reader would just say randomly say "I would be nice to jump won't it?" and Andrew would just stare at her with a look of terror (He has though and done worse though)

But back to the Nurse part she carrys a doctors bag with medication and bandages/bandaids (she also has poison). Sometimes when Andrew and Ashley argue she would just stand there like 🧍‍♀️ knowing damn well she going have to patch them both up after this

(Preferably before and after the sacrifice of the cultist)

notes from coff-in: this is pretty wholesome, guh i just AAAUUGH i love it. i want them to be happy with each other you know? this was so good i just had to brain dump onto this request, it really got me thinking. thank you for requesting!! :D

[fem] reader-insert, [reader] younger than ashley by about a year, mentions or allusions to incest (nothing outright but im hinting at it), talks/mentions of suicide

i can see [reader] getting inspired to be a nurse when leyley got sick once. andy had to go to the store to get medicine for her and told [reader] to stay home and watch her. she tells leyley that she's going to be okay, "nurse [reader] and doctor andy are here to help you get better!" it made leyley so happy seeing [reader] and andy take care of her like that! i doubt she'd ever purposely get herself sick like that again, but it sparked something in [reader]--- being able to care for her siblings and feel necessary to them, to feel needed (i sprinkle insecurity everywhere)

during school, [reader] had a major interest in biology and health class (or the european equivalents i guess? i'm from the U.S. so i don't know much) and passing with good grades in those classes. she has a big medical or emergency kit in their bedroom for her to use and practice with. whenever andrew or ashley hurt themselves they always come over to [reader] so she can take a look at it because she insists on it.

she gets on andrew's case a couple of times about his smoking, about how it's not good for his lungs, could and will cause him lung cancer, etc etc it's mostly stuff he's heard before from her and their family. the thing that causes him to snap back into reality is [reader] saying her thoughts out loud, something along the lines of "i wish i could just suck the nicotine from your mouth so you don't have to risk it". he just looks at her bewildered (holy shit wouldn't that be KISSING???? 🙀🙀🙀) in fact [reader] would say a lot of weird shit while patching up her siblings.

"andrew, your hands are so big... and clammy, is your fever causing that?" "ashley your blood is such a pretty color. i would wear it as lipstick if i could." "hey andrew, did you know that you snore sometimes? you're so peaceful when you sleep, it makes me want to never wake you up." i think she just says weird shit in general, girly can NOT keep her thoughts to herself. the kids at her school dub her as weird and freaky, like ashley, and it causes them to grow closer together (especially with the one-year age gap) they eat lunch together and stick to each other like glue. they went to prom together too!! ashley invited [reader] over to her senior prom (andrew's there too if he could make it) and they dance with each other

"you guys look so beautiful... you two look like a couple" [reader] would giggle at andrew and ashley. andrew blushes at that comment and ashley makes it worse by saying "i know!!"

great times.... then they get quarantined :) not so great time, the lack of food as [reader] anout their health, especially since ashley insists on being active-- moving around and doing chores. she has to sometimes force ashley to get back into bed so she doesn't make herself faint again (andrew has [reader] help him move her to the couch or bed when this happens). i think [reader] would be strung up about starving too because it's not an easy fic for her; she can't just kiss the wound and put a band aid over it. not being able to help her siblings stresses her out and andrew and ashely notice this. they constantly have to remind her that it's not her fault that they're starving and she has nothing to apologize for

gods it would be awful if [reader] started to get suicidal too, or at least start becoming self sacrificing. "i could jump off the balcony..." she says out of nowhere when they're all watching TV "there's be one less mouth to feed, more food for you guys" and andrew and ashley are just like "NO". it honestly breaks their hearts seeing their baby sister feel so down and sad due to this fucking quarantine. "maybe i could chop off my arm and--" "[reader] SHUT UP!!! NO KILLING YOURSELF!!!"

(this definitely lead to the siblings cuddling or sleeping with [reader] not only to comfort themselves but also [reader], to make sure that she's alive too, you know? listening to her breathing and heart beat and feeling her warmth... maybe holding her tighter and closer, wrapping their arms around her in a tight hold. their heart cracks a little bit every time they hear her stomach growl in hunger. it's awful that she's withering away in this apartment and they hate that she blames herself in some capacity that they're suffering too when none of it is their fault; they're all suffering.)

speaking of chopping off arms, [reader] is immediately like "hey look food :D" when the cultist drops dead in the apartment. she helps andrew cut the cultists up while ashley cooks up dinner/breakfast and she's like "did you know that cooked human smells like pork" and andrew is like "please shut up". she also catches on quickly that the apartment isn't "quarantined due to contaminated water" but as a scheme to harvest organs. she's like " 3 x AB? like the blood type?" and "a book on human organs? huh... guys i think they're trying to take our organs" omg the interaction with the lady in 302 or whatever would be so fucking funny. ashley's accusing her of being a slut for food and [reader]'s like "so do you whore yourself out?"

(thinking back to that scene where someone got carried out of the apartment by ambulance, ashley's like "maybe they'd get me food if i got pregnant" and [reader]'s like "who's going to fuck you, andrew? besides pregnancy takes a lot of energy from the body and you need proper nutrition to make it and---" while andrew and ashley are just looking at her with wide eyes like 👁️👁️)

once they leave the apartment and get to the motel, [reader] probably gets her poison around here. idk how she got it earlier if she did. AAAAAHHHH THIS IS A COOL IDEA

thank you 'nonnie for ur genius. ur generosity knows mo bounds; i'm tearing into this shit like a mom stew (this is delicious food omg)

i hope you liked this, and indulge :3

----

coff-in

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

Okay I'm having another thought about Isaac (I am thinking about Isaac again, big fucking surprise)

I feel like it says a lot about Isaac that during Motel California when Stiles found him and used the flare to snap him out of the mental torture spell that the motel ghost and the Wolfsbane had put all of the wolves in, Isaac was the only one not actively trying to physically harm himself. Isaac was hiding under the bed.

(If you haven't seen the episode and/or don't watch the show, mentions of trauma, suicide and self harm below.)

Like - let's run it down.

Ethan was being tortured by visions of someone trapped inside of his body and he tried to use a circular saw to cut that someone out (trying to cut himself free). It likely represents the idea that he was coming to resent merging with Aiden in their Alpha state, hating not having his own individual identity, hating the fact that Aiden might make him hurt someone (against his will while they're merged) innocent like Danny in the name of Deucalion's cause.

Boyd was being reminded of a childhood trauma (and I am actually so pissed that the show didn't go into more detail about this story and if they weren't planning on revealing the full details - why didn't they just make his visions about Erica? because he's clearly tortured and fucked up about that) where it seems like he was responsible for a younger sibling in a public place and that sibling was then abducted or went missing (and maybe turned up dead later?) and he feels responsible for her disappearance and/or death.

So he takes the safe out of the office and places it on top of himself to weigh himself down while he drowns in the bathtub - one, because he knows that no one of humans who are conscious of the goings on can lift it off and free him, and two, likely to represent the crushing weight that he feels over the guilt of losing his sibling. The crushing 'responsibility' he felt (even though he was just a child and it wasn't his fault). And it probably comes back to Erica - how he felt responsible for taking care of her during the time they were captured, and he likely felt responsible for her death too.

And Scott - sees a vision of his mother kidnapped and murdered by Deucalion, and he is told that it's all his fault. And he tries to burn himself alive while questioning if there is a ghost trying to convince him to do it or if there's something truly wrong with him. (And not knowing that Derek is alive, he feels responsible for Derek's 'death' and the lives of everyone around him - so the message here is pretty clear.)

What happens to Isaac is what interests me the most. He remembers something that happened during his childhood, a distinct memory with his father - a seemingly random, average conversation where his father is trying to teach him about tools, and things escalate quickly. When Isaac makes a simple mistake, his father's anger booms out of control, and he tells Isaac that he is inherently flawed, and then - Isaac has a vision of himself being locked back in the freezer that his father used to punish him, which we later find out means that the ghost prompted him to crawl under the bed, a tight space that would normally send him spiralling into a panic attack. The ghost is using his claustrophobia to torture him (when Stiles finds him, he's sweaty and shaking and clearly very poor off), but he's the only one of the wolves not actively trying to kill himself.

What this says to me is that - Isaac has already lived through a fate worse than death. Worse than the kind of mystery that drives the average person to suicide. This says to me that a demon (or whatever lives in the motel) that thrives off people killing themselves, gets more pain and suffering to feed off of from Isaac having a claustrophobic panic attack and believing that he's back in his father's basement in the freezer than it would if he was actually miserable enough to want to kill himself.

Isaac already died while locked in that freezer many, many times.

Idk that's just what that moment in the show says to me.

[creedslove]

HEARTLESS 💔 - PART EIGHTEEN

Agent Whiskey (Jack Daniels) x f!reader

Summary: You and the cowboy spend some time alone, talking about your lives and having an intimate moment. Then, Jack has a heartfelt conversation with his son and asks for his help in order to do something really special for his sugar

(This is the eighteenth chapter of my HEARTLESS 💔 series)

• PART ONE TO SEVENTEEN ON MY MASTERLIST

Warnings: angst, hurt, sad!cowboy, mentions of death, brief mentions of suicide attempt, fluff, smut (oral sex m!receiving and unprotected piv), mom!reader

A/N: besties, I know it's been quite a while, but I seem to have lost the inspiration to write in the past couple of weeks but it's finally back and so is our cowboy! Also, this chapter ended up a lot longer and smuttier than I expected and I hope you all enjoyed it as well! Feedback is life, so let me know what you besties think of this story!

5.5k words

Silver Star rested quietly on the green field, feeling tired after playing with Wyatt the whole day; the small animal was warm and felt when their best friend wrapped his small arms around their body, resting against the soft fur and closed his eyes.

If Jack had seen that scene any other day, he would be in a mix of happiness and affection, he loved his son so much sometimes he thought it would open a hole into his chest, right through his heart, as the love was so intense and overwhelming, and it was because of that love Jack felt like dying at that moment, he couldn't accept the pure, genuine love he felt from his son could end like that, not after what that witch he was forced to call a mother-in-law. It was so cruel to have done that to an innocent, sweet child like Wyatt. The older woman could have done anything she wanted to Whiskey himself, she could've said any words that came to her mind, it didn't matter, but she had no right to do that to his son. Wyatt refused to talk to him, the memory of his beautiful face red with tears falling down as he sniffed and looked between his mommy and his daddy, needing support and assurance, but the painful words his grandma told him stung so heavily into his chest it was hard to breathe, he could only feel a little better when he ran into his beautiful friend: Silver Star.

Jack watched his son dozing off next to his pony from his home office's window. He downed a second glass of whiskey as he sighed and dried the stubborn tears that insisted on running down his cheek. Jack had learned from a young age from his pa that men weren't supposed to cry, that crying was something done by weak people and that real men needed to hide their feelings, even better if they acted as if they didn't have any, that would be the right thing.

But unfortunately, from a younger age, he learned that things weren't like that; tragedies happened every day to good people and it was just so hard not to cry, to hold things back, Jack learned the hard way that pretending not to have feelings could destroy a man, it nearly destroyed him, his relationship with the woman he loved the most in the world and prevented him from building a beautiful father and son relationship, to which he was grateful to no end; his sugar and their baby boy Wyatt was the best thing he could have ever had, the way it changed his life that was once shallow and empty into something worth living. The cowboy just had to do something about it, but he didn't know what or how to. If he didn't feel so bad about the entire situation, it would've been quite funny to see a senior agent like himself, who was able to take a group of men down with a lasso without much effort, was just so anxious about dealing with a four-year-old. You, on the other hand, stood right outside Jack's office, not sure if you should enter it or not. You wanted to talk to him, touch him, look into his warm, heart-warming eyes, kiss his perfect soft lips and remind him everything was alright, that your family was a beautiful and strong one, that your son would walk into the door with his tummy howling in hunger and the three of you would have a delicious dinner together, but you didn't know until that extent it would happen; you didn't know how hurt Jack was, but you knew it was a lot, maybe he was somehow blaming it on you, and you couldn't even argue with that, as it was your mom who did it, who made that scene and angered you to no end. It wasn't your fault, but you felt guilty because you had never imagined your mom would be that low towards you and your son. Jack had made so many mistakes, but he was a good man, he was kind and sweet and he would never hurt you and your son ever again. It was unfair and heartbreaking to say the least.

After thinking to yourself way too many times, you decided to enter, seeing he hadn't locked himself in, but he was sitting on his chair, watching out the window as Wyatt spent time with Silver Pony.

"Jack?" You called him in a soft, low voice, hoping he wouldn't bark at you. Overall, Jack was a gentleman, but you'd seen his ugly side and you really hoped it wouldn't be the case at that moment. You were silent as you approached him, your fingers tangling into his stubborn curls that tried to make an appearance, they were messy from his usage of the hat and it had given him a boyish look. You smiled at him, as he looked up at you, his face was serious and his eyes were red from crying; it broke your heart, your mom had no right to cause that much trouble to your family. Taking another step, you stood in front of him, sitting on his lap and wrapping your arm around his shoulder. Jack let out a sigh and hid his face into your neck, nuzzling your skin softly and taking in your scent, there was nothing he loved more in the world than your body, your weight, your scent on him. You could feel his lips on your skin, his mustache tickling you softly as his arms formed a tight grip, his big hands groping your body in a way it moved your body as closely to his as possible.

"Sugar, I-"

"Shh, don't say anything cowboy, I know it" she said and kissed his temple, right where Harry's bullet had broken the skin and killed your man for a couple of hours. That story always made shivers run down your spine, you couldn't believe he had died and Ginger had managed to bring him back to life and to you, but you never wanted him to leave again.

"Don't leave me again, Jack, please, I beg you, my heart won't take another disappointment from you" you said and his lips trailed their way down your neck

"I ain't never leaving you, sugar… I need you as much as you need me, we're meant to be and no matter what happened, that witch ain't breaking us apart" his voice was serious and firm, he was never leaving his son nor his sugar, that was a fact, Jack's heart was only beating because of his family, that was the only thing that has kept him alive after the last disastrous events of his life. He was sure that if it weren't the love he felt for his beloved son and sugar he would've just been gone, either when he tried doing it through his own hands or when he nearly found his fate inside the meat grinder.

"I'm so sorry sugar, your mom is a horrible person, you are so different from her, and the things she said, about you and Wyatt being a replacement… it isn't true, I love you both with all my heart, it was this love that kept me alive for so long, otherwise I wouldn't have-"

"Don't go on missions anymore, Jack. Please. You have a great position at Statesman, both the agency and the company, you don't need the money, nor the thrill, you don't have to risk not coming home anymore, I know you won't be reckless, but Wyatt and I need you, what happened today was just a bump on the way, our son is crazy for you and if you just go and talk to him, with patience, I'm sure he will understand, he's small, but he's as smart as his handsome daddy" you smiled at your cowboy and pecked his lips gently. He looked at you with his sad eyes and it felt like your heart was pierced through

"I know what's going through this thick skull of yours cowboy, I know exactly how you are torturing yourself and before you go further into it, remember that my mom is a bitter woman, she's someone who doesn't accept I take my own decisions, if she got angry because of what happened between us it would be understandable, but we both know it isn't because of that, it's just because she simply can't accept I love you and we have a family together"

"But sugar, the things she said there's some truth to it… I made you go away as if you meant nothing and -" his voice broke and Jack's eyes filled with tears once more, he had hurt you so much and he already suffered his punishment, which was carrying that guilt for the rest of his life.

"You did, Jack Daniels. And it was the worst thing you could have ever done to someone who only loved you, to an innocent baby who grew up in my womb without even knowing what was happening, but Jack…" you held his head between your hands and looked into his eyes "you regret it so bad, I'm sure the pain and the guilt you feel now is worse than the pain you caused me, and I'm not going to lie, I think you'll suffer with it for a long time, cowboy, but what I can offer you now is my forgiveness and my love and a second chance so we can start over, it will never erase what happened between us, so if something similar ever happens again, you can be sure you will never see me or Wyatt again" you told him seriously, but you expression softened up immediately as you leaned towards him and pecked his lips once more, longer this time, your hand touching his smooth cheek, as you deepened it, a soft muffled sound of pleasure coming from you, so you broke the kiss and nibbled his lower lip

"That ain't never happening, sugar, I promise you with my life, that I will never disappoint you and Wyatt ever again, all I want is to be the best husband and father in the world, I love you so much, sugar… You are the love of my life; I tried fighting that off for so long, I tried running away from this feeling, even before our son, I already knew it but couldn't accept it, but you had always been the one, I know I don't deserve it, but if you just give me one chance, one simple chance, I can make you my wife and maybe one day, we could give our son a little brother or a little sister-"

You kissed the cowboy in order to shut him up. Jack often talked too much, sometimes it was something good, and sometimes it was something bad, at that moment, after you both opened your hearts, you didn't want to discuss the future, not that you didn't want it with him, you were certain you did, you wanted to marry that stupid cowboy, not so sure about another Daniels baby, not yet, but you definitely wanted your family together for good; however, at that moment you both needed something else, you needed to be close, to show each other you were there physically rather than using just words. You looked outside the window and smiled sadly at the sight of Wyatt dozing off next to his pony, but you knew that was something only Jack could fix later, so you closed the blinders and turned to him, lowering yourself and kissing him "let me take care of my cowboy, mm? Let me show him how much I love and appreciate him, make him close his eyes and relax and forget about his problems and sorrows" you whispered against his neck, your teeth sinking into his skin in an affectionate way, nibbling his flesh at the same time your hands roamed around his torso, unbuttoning his shirt and finding his warmth underneath it, the cowboy was experienced and knew exactly where that was going, his eyes darkened with lust at the same time his right hand tangled into your hair, bringing it into a messy ponytail while you got on your knees in front of him.

"Fuck sugar, what are you doing to me? You wanna kill your old cowboy like that?" He bit his lips and looked down at you, loving how you smiled at him and undid his belt. You rested your arms on his thick thighs, undoing his pants at the same time you could see his bulge getting bigger and bigger, the tent forming in his pants could be amusing if you weren't so needy of him. The thought of taking his cock into your mouth was causing you to feel as if you were on fire for your cowboy. Senior Agent Whiskey would never fail in turning you into a cock slut for him.

He stared into your eyes, giving you a consenting nod and showing he was ready for his treat

"Don't be sad my cowboy, let me show you your worth" you purred with innocent eyes at the same time you freed his cock. Wrapped your hands around his length, feeling it pulsating under your touch, his warm skin, his popping veins and that glistening tip, filled with pre cum, it all made you lick your lips before finally taking your cowboy into your mouth. You left hand gripped the side of his thigh, nails sinking softly into his skin as you went deeper down onto him, taking his length as far as you could, feeling the cowboy pulsating in the back of your throat. The right hand holding him by the base, and then going to his heavy balls, it always made them quiver and the cowboy whimpered whenever you touched, massaged and gently squeezed them. You turned your attention back to his needy tip, suckling on it, and felt how tight his grip was on your hair. It made you even more turned on, your inner walls clenching as you felt the pooling arousal at the same time your hard clit throbbed, needing some attention from that cowboy's rough hands or soft, devilish tongue. His breathing got heavier, he panted and his dirty words lost among obscene sounds coming from his mouth and you knew he was close, it was just a matter of seconds for you to taste his hot load.

"Sugar, stop" he groaned and held you by the hair, stopping you from continuing tasting him, just as he licked his lips "come on, sit on my cock, ride your fucking cowboy" he demanded in a serious tone which was more than enough evidence he was in charge again. You nodded obediently, leaving a soft, chaste kiss on his tip, causing his cock to throb some more and stood in front of him.

Jack's hands were sloppy as he undressed you, he wasn't too careful, the urge and the rush to get you naked, the way he stripped you off your jeans and thumbed your sensitive clit over your thin panties. He wasn't a patient man, not at that moment, so he used his index finger to move your panties to the side by its string. He let out another low groan the moment the fabric brushed against your soaked lips and he could see the wet puddle it formed, he loved to see how wet you were for him, you were his perfect slut, and he wouldn't trade that for any other cunt in the world. His fingers spread your pussy lips apart just enough for him to take a good look at your wetness and how hard your clit was. He chuckled seeing it throbbed at nothing but air and he knew you were perfect for him, you took his cock so well, all your holes were his and no one would touch you but that goddamn cowboy.

"Come here, sugar, your cowboy needs you, be a good fucking slut and ride me" he said and pulled you to his lap, helping you straddle him as he gripped the base of his cock, using his own tip to slap it against your clit. You moved your hips without any words, letting his tip rub against your clit slowly at first but fastening the pace as his length ran through your wet folds, just enough to have your honey spread all over his shaft

"Mm don't tease me cowboy, please, I need it as much as you do" you whimpered and in response Jack kissed you once more. His hands went for your hips, sustaining your weight and helping you sink down onto him. You slippery cunt stretching at the size of him and sliding so quickly, making you feel full and whole because of him; it was a feeling you never wanted to let go, you knew you belonged to him, that damn cowboy would be your owner, your master forever. As you moved slightly on top of him, you took both of his hands and placed it on your breasts, Jack fucking loved your tits, how soft they were, your pretty nipples pearking hard. He squeezed them, massaging gently while his thumbs ghosted over your nipples, at the same time you moved faster on top of him, riding the cowboy at your own pace, not getting enough of him, ever.

Jack pulled your torso forward, taking his hungry mouth to your nipples, suckling on each of them while his hands traveled to your ass cheeks, squeezing them and sustaining your weight so you could ride him faster and more safely. You frowned as he ignored your clit on purpose, you didn't understand why he was such a tease sometimes, but even if avoided your sensitive spot, your walls didn't fail in tightening and contracting and he felt that knot in his lower belly. He knew he wouldn't hold back any longer, so he stopped you and pulled you for another kiss

"Get off me, sugar" he commanded as you felt a little confused at first, not understanding exactly why he told you to stop riding him, but it all made sense when he stood up right behind you and told you to sit on his desk with your legs spread, which you gladly obeyed your cowboy, biting your lips as he took his time watching your body at full display for him.

"You like it, cowboy?"

"You know I fucking do, my beautiful sugar, you are always so sweet to me, only when you are being a filthy dirty slut, then you are my best girl, baby girl" he groaned and slapped your cunt without a warning, smirking at the whimper you let out. Then, Jack lowered himself, hovering over you, using his right hand to spread your pussy lips wide, making your clit so exposed to him, at his mercy, before he just lapped at it, he didn't touch the rest of your pussy though, only his tongue flicked your needy clit, the cowboy's left hand was strong enough to hold you in place the moment he began suckling on your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your pussy hole wouldn't stop clenching and gaping so softly at the cowboy's ministrations, you gushed wetness, as it dropped down your asshole and it made him savor every passing second of having you as he pleased. He knew your body just as well as you knew his and the moment he focused on how your legs were shaking, how burning hot your skin felt against his own, he just knew you were close to your orgasm.

But Whiskey wasn't letting you cum just yet, not while he didn't fuck you exactly the way he wanted to. So Jack gave your clit one last lick and smirked at you, his hands flipping you over his desk "spread these beautiful legs, sugar, take my cock like you love it, baby" he whispered into your ear, kissing your neck and using his teeth to nibble at it at the same time he slid his cock once more inside of you. Whiskey's hands were on your hips, holding you by your sides as he adjusted the pace and then went for your hair, gripping at it as he fucked you. The cowboy knew he couldn't hold it any longer and the moment he felt your cunt clenching around him, your clit rubbing against the cool wood of his desk at the same he railed you was enough to set you to your very needed orgasm. You moaned your cowboy's name as loud as you could, his cock was ball deep inside of you at the same time you felt that characteristic throbbing and your Whiskey couldn't hold it anymore, cumming hard, with a loud groan while his thick load flooded into you.

•••

Jack rubbed your arms as you snuggled towards him as tight as you could, while the two of you shared the small couch he kept in his home office. You were still in your orgasm haze, wrapping your head around everything that happened between you and your cowboy, thinking of how intense your wave of lust had been; one moment you two were having a heartfelt, serious and emotional conversation and the next, you were riding your cowboy. However, it felt just so good, so carefree, so loved and desired. Jack Daniels knew how to touch a woman and make her feel like a goddess, that you had to give into your cowboy. As your eyes were getting heavy, you felt him nuzzling your neck, his hand resting on your stomach as he rubbed your belly gently and looked into your eyes

"Funny how I wanted another child so bad and yet I can't even get our son to talk to me after what happened" he sighed and you shook your head, pecking his lips

"Wyatt loves you like crazy, he's a little hurt and he needed his space, go talk to him in a while and he will be the sweetest child we both know" you assured him, taking his hand and entwining your fingers together.

Your cowboy kissed your lips gently, stroking your cheek with his gentle touch under rough hands and stared into your eyes with his warm brown ones, a soft frown appearing on his face

"What made you change your mind about me… well, us?"

You licked your lips and stared at him, would he be mad if he knew the real reason? Would Jack consider it a lack of privacy? Perhaps he would even find it offensive? You weren't very sure… visiting his first wife's grave seemed so personal, something he had always done and openly talked about it but never really invited you to do so, which you understood perfectly and felt quite relieved because you didn't know how you would do so, however, you decided you wouldn't keep any secrets from your cowboy, you two were starting your relationship once more and building it up over a bunch of lies wouldn't work at all.

"I-I went to Gabriella's grave, Jack… yesterday, when you took our son to Statesman with you, I hadn't planned on it, but while I was riding Silver Pony I ended up going too far from the property and accidentally stopped by the cemetery, then I thought I should just walk in, I'm sorry if you don't like it for whatever reason or if you think it was an invasion to your privacy, I just wanted to pay my respect to someone who was so important to you, and while I was there, I realized life is too short, and it's not fair wasting our time playing hard to get. We love each other, we want to be together, we have a beautiful son, a small but gorgeous family and our whole future ahead of us, I mean… Why not?!" You poured your heart out, being as honest as someone could be, showing him how much you meant it, and in return, Jack leaned towards you, kissing you again, his heart was a puddle of love and affection, he couldn't even imagine you had gone to Gabriella's grave, not even in his wildest dreams, but he wasn't mad, quite the opposite, it brought peace within him, to know you had acknowledged her story with him in a physical way, instead of just having heard about it, it comforted him and it made him feel better about himself.

"I love you, sugar, with my whole heart"

•••

After taking you to his master bedroom so you could shower and relax, Jack decided to go after Wyatt. He had given his son enough time but he wanted to make things clear, talk to his son honestly and explain to him that everything that old witch had said was filled with poison. While you were in the shower, he managed to take something he wanted from his nightstand drawer and headed to the kitchen, knowing exactly what could possibly cheer his son up. Cutting up a generous slice of the peach pie you'd made and a huge spoon of vanilla ice cream, Jack had a safe guess the way to his son's pure little heart was a good dessert, just as his own, when Jack Daniels was nothing but a little boy as well. He chuckled at himself and hoped that would work for them. Walking through the green fields, he didn't take long to spot his son and his beloved pony. Silver Star seemed exhausted after spending the whole day playing, lying on the grass as Wyatt caressed its fur gently, he wouldn't stop talking and giggling, certainly telling his friend all about a fascinating story that inhabited his creative mind. Jack's heart warmed with how sweet he truly was, sitting down next to him and gently rubbing his son's back. Wyatt wasn't expecting and jumped a little startled.

"Daddy?!"

"I thought you'd like some sugar, cowboy," Jack said, offering his son a plate with the pie and ice cream, Wyatt watching it with wide eyes as his tummy growled. Only at that moment he remembered he hadn't eaten anything the whole day and that pie looked and smelled so yummy when his mommy was making it. The little boy extended his small hands and took the plate carefully, taking a big bite and moaning in approval at the taste of it. He chewed up his dessert calmly and giggled as Silver Star leaned towards Jack's touch while the cowboy rubbed her face gently.

"She likes you daddy!" Wyatt said sweetly and stared at Whiskey, who tried organizing his thoughts in order to know the right thing to say and above all, trying to hide the nervousness. One could think it was actually quite funny to see senior Agent Whiskey acting that way, but a conversation with his son was much more important than any high profile meeting he could ever have with Champ or another member of the agency. He cleared his throat softly

"Wyatt, daddy wants to talk to you… Mommy and I are very sorry about the things grandma said, she had no right to say those mean things. Some people are so sad and bitter they can't handle seeing other people like you, your beautiful mama and me happy, and unfortunately grandma is one of these people, do you understand?"

Wyatt nodded softly and wouldn't break eye contact with his daddy, he was tiny yes, but so smart and attentive, and the cowboy's heart weighed heavily with pride at how similar his son was to his beautiful sugar.

"So… what grandma said isn't true, I love you and your beautiful mama so much, my boy. You and her are my world, I will always love and cherish you both, daddy had another family, yeah. We, uh-" his voice broke as Jack was still getting used to talking about them so frequently, they spent so long it his memory it was kind of odd to mention them so often, especially to his son, who was only a child, but showed great emotional intelligence, just by the way he placed his tiny little hand on top of his daddy, in a silent way to reassure him and tell him to go on.

"Well, we, uh.. I mean, I had a family, a long time ago, way before I met your beautiful mama, I was married to another girl, she was also beautiful and kind, and we had a little boy too, but he was still very tiny and he lived in her belly, like one day you lived in your Mama's belly…"

"What happened, daddy?" Wyatt couldn't hold back his curiosity and wanted to know more about it.

"Well, they went to live in heaven and daddy was all alone for a very long time. Until one day I met your mom, my sugar and my life changed for good. Your mommy was and she still is the most beautiful girl I've ever seen and for the first time in years I had a reason to smile, to feel happy, but the fact that my first family had to go live in heaven still scared me a lot, and when I found out your mommy was carrying you in her belly" Jack brushed his thumb over his son's cheek in a gentle caress "... I was terrified that one day you and mommy would be gone too, so I made her go away, but I regret this every single day because there's nothing in the world that I love more than you and her, and I will never be away from the two of you, ever again. I promise you, my son, we will always be a family. All I'm trying to say is that no matter what grandma says, I love you and your mommy and I hope one day you can forgive me for what happened"

Jack looked down, trying to hide the annoying, insisting tears that ran down his cheek. He sniffed and wiped his face, being surprised by how fast Wyatt climbed up his lap and hugged him.

"I love you daddy" he said not understanding why his dad had tears in his eyes, but he knew that whenever he cried, his mommy would always hold him, so he figured it would work out with his daddy too.

Whiskey wrapped his arms around his son's small frame, kissing the top of his head and rubbing his back gently, that cowboy knew he didn't deserve that much love, forgiveness and affection from his son and you, he'd been too bad for the two of you, but he was going to get down on his knees every single day and thank the Lord for being so blessed like he was.

He kept his son in a tight embrace, not many words were needed, just the two of them, the big cowboy and the little one, in each other's company silently proving nothing could come between their bond.

It took them a few minutes to calm down their emotions and finally be able to talk about other things, just as if nothing had happened, Wyatt finished his dessert and told his dad about his fun afternoon with Silver Star. Jack listened to it intently, as if it was the most interesting piece of information in the world, and well, to him it was, because he loved his son and he was fascinated by him on a daily basis, still being a little shocked at how a child could be so smart and precious like he was. Only when Jack patted his pocket, was that he remembered one thing he needed to discuss with his son.

"Wyatt, I know you love your mommy as much as I love her, right? So I need your help to do something really nice for her, but it gotta be a cowboy secret okay? So you can't tell mommy"

And Wyatt was sold at that moment; he loved his mommy and he loved doing nice things for his mommy and above all, he was so excited to be a part of a cowboy secret, which meant only his daddy and him could know what it was, after all, Wyatt was already a cowboy and he liked it. He nodded eagerly and Jack laughed, getting the small box out of his pocket and opened it, showing his son the gorgeous engagement ring he had bought

"I need your cowboy help to make mommy a surprise so I can give her this, alright?!"

____

[writing-in-sin]

UMEMIYA HAJIME HC: RAGE & PEACE

It makes me wonder if Umemiya ever tried to hunt down the person who drove the truck that killed his family. Was it a hit and run? Did the person regret it? What happened to them?

I think Umemiya had a lot of rage when he was younger. Whether or not he still has that rage in the present is anyone's guess. But his past makes me very curious. Primarily?

- why was he passed over a lot before ending up in Furin? Was it because people dont know how to handle his depression? Or maybe his rage?

- outside of fights, was the roof incident his 1st suicide attempt? Were there others? Did he always seek out fights to get himself killed?

- what happened to the person who killed his family? Was it a hit and run? Did the authorities catch them? Did they regret it? If they had run after the accident, did Umemiya ever tried to hunt them down? And considering his rage, did Umemiya do anything to them?

- do the 4 kings know about his traumatic childhood or is it only Sakura? If he is, what made Umemiya feel like he can trust Sakura about that part of his past?

- does Umemiya have PTSD after the accident? Does he have any problems with vehicles and the like? Does he have nightmares?

So many questions and admittedly, I have an active imagination to the point of idiocy 😅

In which case, I think Umemiya may have tracked the person down if the driver ran and in his rage, he could've injured the driver. Whether its to the point of crippling them or even near death, is up for interpretation. But the whole thing could add to his 'I'm a murderer' mentality. I dunno yet if the incident occurred before or after he stayed in the orphanage but I would like the opportunity to explore Umemiya's grief, guilt and rage and how it may still effect him in the present

Most of all, I like to explore how he'd let himself heal. While he told Sakura that he got over it and that its in the past, I do have to wonder if he had allowed himself to heal instead of only trailblazing forward to his dream and goal

Peace and closure. To heal and a safe place to just be, y'know?

Ofc as a UmeSaku fangirl, I'd like it if Sakura can be someone Umemiya be vulnerable with. To fall apart, to have someone he can lay his head on without worry

Sakura would be confused, constantly asking 'why me?' Because Umemiya is loved by many and the kings have been with him from the start so why is Sakura of all people got chosen to know things about Umemiya that no one else does. To know Umemiya as a whole instead of just the strong, powerful and reliable leader of Furin?

And Umemiya? He'd smile, smaller than his usual wide grins or triumphant smirks but its the most genuine he's ever worn and as time wore on, it becomes a smile that he only wears around Sakura

Soft. Private. Fond. Besotted.

In love

And with that smile, Umemiya would answer the same way, honest and affectionate:

"Because Sakura is Sakura, and that's always been enough to me."

[proshippers-against-censorship]

hope what i’m bringing up here is appropriate for this blog. i could try finding any other outlet, internal or outside resources that would help me get through this, but i’m trying not to ruffle any feathers.

so, since last year i’ve been watching something i used to be into when i was younger and participating in its fandom. through rewatching it i found out that i shipped two characters that i always had a noticeable affinity towards, except i realized i like the pairing way more as an adult because of everything i missed between them since i last saw the show. they were paired with different characters by the end and even if it was shown to make more “sense” for them according to the greater fandom, i initially didn’t care because of how much i enjoyed their dynamic thoughout the show’s duration. i felt that it brought out a bunch of discussion to be told whether you saw it the lens of a romatic or platonic relationship. most of what happened in the show’s main timeline could not go on without their involvement, and their individual development arcs kicked off because of the undeniable romantic relationship they tried to pursue at one point.

the big thing about their relationship that apparently makes it a “proship”/comship is the huge age difference between them, and unfortunately that’s unfortunately all what the fandom sees them for. i feel that even when talking about the romantic/sexual aspect of them together and the implications, they have one of the least discussed dynamics i’ve seen of many of the major characters, which doesn’t make sense because they’re both the male and female mcs. it’s always “thank god they didnt get together, i’m sick at the thought of them with each other” even though thats beyond what their relationship was like as the story was drawing to a close. one tweet i saw which was a quote of one which showed a screenshot of the characters in the ship i’m talking about in a canonical platonic showing was something along the lines of “the four people who still ship this must be on suicide watch” which is just an awful thing to think of about anyone.

i do try to feel good about shipping them publicly despite all thats been brought towards me for it. or, at least the nothingness of it. a lot of blogs i’ve interacted with and been interested about following in the past through tag scrolling have blocked me for shipping it. i know this because i always notice that a couple blogs who mainly post about the fandom aren’t on my dash. it’s weird, i don’t even like it as a “standard” underage ship. i’m not saying they’re wrong for keeping themselves safe from things they don’t like, it just glooms me out because i still want to interact with much of the fandom, even if we don’t agree on stuff. i’m too old to be spiralling over these things and activating the sanctification in me i’m trying hard to undo to enjoy my hobbies. why does it even matter to me this much that people block me because they don’t like shit i create or post

with this i feel like anti culture absolutely neuters any kind of intellectual discussion about characters who were in a “problematic” relationship and gone out of it to be part of a standard platonic one. i don’t how unique it is for this ship, but i do imagine that people look into the bad things about it far too much. and hey, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure

(i’m being vague to protect myself from antis who might find me out and send me dumb shit, forgive me)

No, no, you're very right. The rise of anti culture has definitely led to a decrease in having decent, intellectual conversations about pairings in media and how the relationships between characters shift in ways that display incredibly important aspects of their stories.

But that ties back to the loss of media literacy, I fear.

[tinyladofladdies]

my testimony 🌊☆⋆｡🪼 (of how i returned to God and truly came to know Jesus for the first time after being a distant believer turned atheist) . . 𓆉︎ ࿔*

Romans 8:38-39 — For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

like many, not all, Christians, i was raised in an american Christian church, knowing who Jesus was my whole life.

from the youngest i can remember, i was attending some sort of church, usually with my nana on my dad's side and then for a bit, with my parents at a different church in town. i attended VBS most summers, went to sports camp at a different Christian church, got to a point where i served the coffee station in my nana's non-denominational church, went to 3 services a week with my other grandma, and as a child, i genuinely loved praying and had a deep understanding of the gravity of what Jesus did for us; i remember as a child feeling genuine sadness thinking of how Jesus died for our sins while being innocent. i loved God.

yet still, once i got to around 6th & 7th grade, i could no longer find myself believing in God. i wanted to believe in something; i attended many sweat lodges with my kaka (grandpa), called myself an "omnist" at one point (someone who believed all religions had an equal possibility of being correct and therefore all religions deserved equal respect). but, very quickly, i started identifying myself as an atheist.

there were many reasons for this; when i was a child, my dad went to prison. i saw drugs all around me, both my dad and my aunt being addicted, as well as other distant family members who i didn't meet, to the point that my dad went to prison for 8ish years and i wasn't allowed to see my aunt anymore for several months. because of my dad's addiction, my mom worked hard, multiple jobs, and i was usually with my dad, and as a young child, felt responsible for my two younger siblings at the time. whether i was with my aunt or dad, i felt responsible for keeping my younger cousin and my two younger siblings at that time safe. there was an unnecessary pressure on me, now that i think back i had a lot go anxiety even as a child, and i know these things added up, because by the time i was 8-9 years old (when my dad went away), i became severely depressed. the first time i physically self-harmed was in 3rd or 4th grade, and i had deep suicidal ideations. i was exposed to things as a child that i shouldn't have been (it's hard to comment on this, because i know i had weird behavior and severe guilt as a young child that was definitely influenced by trauma, except i believe some things happened to me that i repressed because i can't remember). i developed a p*rn & m*sterb*tion addiction still in 3rd or 4th grade, and long before that, sexualised myself as a child. leading up to 6th or 7th grade, my addictions got worse, i was still suicidal and depressed, taking very poor care of myself, and i could no longer feel that there was any God watching over me. so, i became an atheist; i then despised being at church with my nana, i didn't want to stand during the worship music even though, before, i would sing with my whole chest, and i just remember wanting to cry and run out one time because i absolutely did not want to be there and did not want to be standing. one morning, i stayed home from church and my nana got upset with me and told me i could not come to her house unless i came to church with her, and when i told my mom i no longer believed in God, she said i had no feelings or empathy. i say all of this, not because it's easy or to be glorified or because i want my family members to feel any guilt over things they said in 2018; i have fully and completely forgiven both my mom and nana, and my relationship with both of them has drastically improved as well as my relationship with God because of their own faith. however, these things are important to be raw about. the hurt i was already experiencing being added onto made me a stronger atheist, and i know that many people feel the same thing or have been through the same thing, and i want to offer them empathy and hope in Jesus. i don't glorify my trauma or sins, i acknowledge them and how severe they were, but i use this as a testimony to glorify GOD and how far HE has brought me and how much HE has healed me, forgiven me, and saved me from.

from the time i was in 5th grade, i identified as bisexual & pansexual, and from 9th grade to the beginning of my junior year, i identified as non-binary, trans, and every queer label under the sun. i was bisexual, i was lesbian, i was a gay man, i was aromantic, i was hypersexual, i was every "mogai" label that i came across on the internet, i was radically queer and this journey as well influenced my view and idea of God. i was a radical queer inclusionist, i was a radfem/terf, i was pro-choice, i used God's Name in vain and viewed myself worthy to be referred to as a "god," i believed in astrology signs and "vibrations," and the "divine feminine," i talked badly about Christianity while calling myself a Christian, all of these things.

and while some of these sins are at different points in this timeline, before or after i became a Christian, all of this throughout my walk added up to who i am, how i view God and what my relationship with God is like here and now, today.

in the summer of 2019, i moved to california from kentucky with my family after being raised in ky my whole life. i was 13, i was battling extreme intrusive thoughts which caused, yet again, more anxiety and suicidal ideation, and i still did not believe in God.

my family & i lived in hotels for the first month or so that we got out here, where i isolated myself as much as possible, battled my own thoughts, and spent way too much time in my head.

when we finally found and moved into a house, where we still live today, my mom, siblings, & i found a church that is a 5 minute walk from our house. i started going with my family, asked for a Bible i believe the first Christmas we had here, and back then, shortly before and after covid first hit, i took a lot of walks. i would pray. i would ask God for silly signs to prove Himself real to me. i got to this point, and this was now in my 8th grade year (where i dropped out of school due to severe anxiety and developed a horrible reversed sleep schedule...whole other story), where i started believing in God again, but now i felt fear because i believed God was real, but i couldn't really believe. and if i did, i didn't want to follow Him, which made me feel even more guilt; i didn't and still don't know why i felt this way.

i do know, that my relationship with my family was getting worse & more toxic, there was still deep sexual sin in my life, and i was still struggling mentally. i was becoming a worse person to myself, to my family, and to all other people around me. i felt isolated, i felt unreal, i felt anxious, and i felt guilt.

i got a point where i was so delusional and mentally detached that i thought i wasn't even human.

i remember that when things kind of built up, and fights with my mom got worse, and i said or did something i know i shouldn't have, i would just pray; crying & sobbing for hours on end, praying, asking God for forgiveness and help. i think the first time i really repented in prayer was during these times. i knew, and i told God this, that there was something within me that was causing these attitudes, behaviors, and sins, and that i couldn't do it on my own. i wanted so desperately to just act different, be different, be better as a person, and i told God that i just did not know why i couldn't just change myself, knowing that everything in my life was wrong. i just couldn't.

one of the last times i prayed one of these long, desperate prayers, i remember distinctly telling God that i felt like i was too far gone for Him to save me or help me. i don't know if this was a saturday night or a few days before the next Sunday, but i know that the next time there was church, "something" (which i now know was the Holy Spirit), compelled me to go. this was still during covid, church was in different area of the building than the main services used to be, everyone was 6 ft. apart with masks, it was bizarre. but the message that day that stuck with me was "nobody is too far gone for God's love."

that was the exact thing i prayed. and all this time i was asking God for a sign, He spoke to me in the most direct, beautiful way.

as a kid, even with my extreme love for Jesus, i always felt that in order to pray "that prayer," or to even be baptised, i had to get my life together. i had to be kinder, be a better sister and daughter, stop sinning, at least for long enough that i could finally be worthy enough to approach Jesus and tell Him i wanted Him as my Savior.

but for the first time, that lie was undone. i left that service early because i didn't want anyone to see me crying, i cried all the way home trying to hold back the tears, and as soon as i got to my room, i fell down with my head bowed on my Bible and i repented; i admitted everything i had done that had been weighing me down for years, and i finally said the words "Jesus, i accept you as my Lord and Savior."

i finally admitted Who Jesus was, that i believed what He did for me, that i needed God's forgiveness, and that i wanted God's guidance for my life.

now, this was january of 2021 (it's actually funny because for a long time, i thought i was saved shortly after my 15th birthday, but it was actually a month-ish before that birthday, so i literally got my salvation date wrong LOL).

i have to admit, that after praying that prayer, although i felt the peace and presence of the Lord in a way i never had before, i started going to church but i didn't start living for God for a very long time. and even with going to my church, i eventually stopped because my stepdad and i got into a fight where he basically said "why are you even going to church if you're gay?" and while that didn't stop my belief in God, i felt ashamed to pass my stepdad walking out the door on Sunday mornings.

a lot of sin in my life actually got worse after i came to Christ; i was still gay and trans, still sexually sinning with my addictions, still not being the best family member, still being a very toxic person, and still using the Lord's Name in vain and using God's Name in fights to defend things that aren't even biblical.

it wasn't until august of 2022, the beginning of my junior year, that i made the step to start going to church again, to get baptised, which i had put off for so long, and to start taking God seriously. i started going through the verse of the day in the youversion Bible app every morning, i started praying every day and more consistently throughout my day, i started trying to learn more about who God actually is, and i started serving in the kids' ministry at my church. eventually i started attending and then serving in the highschool ministry, i started serving in the choir and greeting team, and for the first time, i really sat down and examined my sins & behaviors; even after beginning to take Jesus seriously, many sins, even sinful thoughts as well as behaviors, continued, and it took a lot of help from the Holy Spirit, a lot of self-control, a lot of mindset & heart attitude change, and a lot of repentance, to get to a point where i knew exactly how God wanted me to live and started putting it into practice.

in the very beginning of building my relationship with God, i felt peace and joy like never before, and thought "why on earth did i never follow Jesus before?" but as with every believer, the enemy started attacking and i had, and still do currently, have to navigate through spiritual attacks; i have slipped and sinned and messed up seemingly "way too far" into my Christian walk, knowingly, knowing what is sin and what isn't. it took me absolutely forever to finally and honestly surrender my false identity of homosexuality & gender identity over to God (and His love, comfort, and patience was so present with me through that long process), it took forever to unlearn things i had been taught by the world or that i had somehow believed (and that unlearning process is still continuing sometimes as i read the Word of God and get closer to Him), it took forever to finally manage my thoughts and temptations, and even recently those thoughts & temptations have caused me to either slip or fall into anxiety.

my testimony is still being written every day, but all of this is a testament of God's EXTREME goodness, faithfulness, and grace.

i have been under severe spiritual attack for the entirety of 2024. there are days when my thoughts seem beyond control, where my ocd presides over genuine interaction with God, where i don't feel God's presence almost at all. i have fallen into a deep depression, anxiety, ocd, and a lot of my passion to live out my life as it is right now has diminished, and that's hard.

but God has been faithfully speaking to me through His Word, through my family, through my Christian friends and mentors. He has been teaching me how to relearn prayer and interaction with Him, His presence and protection have brought peace and encouragement like never before, even when i'm in a dark season where it seems like i should be feeling everything but peace or encouragement.

but God is building me up and preparing me for whatever seasons are going to come next, and all of this is to say, God is real.

God is patient, God's grace never runs out; the message that led me to salvation was "nobody is too far gone for God's love," no matter what you have said or done, how broken you are, Jesus is victorious over every single part of the battle. that message is still true.

God loves you, God is near to you, God's grace & patience are extended to you and me time and time again, and God has a plan for you. He created you to know Him and He will meet you right where you are.

one of my favorite verses (and chapters, really), is the one quoted at the very top of this post, but i will reiterate it time & time again for as long as i live . . .

I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

🫧 ⋆｡˚꩜ : creds . .

dividers: roseraris

[blues824]

Hello can I please request a sequel to the undertaker in the remarried empress.

⚰️Imagen her making a mourning locket for heinley after his brother died and him thanking her for it .

⚰️How would everyone react to her telling that she became a grim reaper because in her previous life she comided sueside and that this is a punishment in her world.

⚰️Remember when mckenna gets shot because of sovieshit giving orders to shoot every bird that visits navier and ergi asking her to help mckenna.

⚰️How would everyone react to her her being together with kosiar and her joking to him if he ever kills someone she will hide it but don't go to another undertaker because that's cheating.

⚰️How would everyone react to her refusing to build rattrash a coufin and being shocked that she can hold grudges against people because she is known for her happy personality and chill nature .

⚰️Rember navier gets smugeld in the carage it looks like something the undertaker whoud build but at least the undertaker whoud put padding on the inside to make it comfy.

Part 1

TW: mentions of suicide

Sovieshu Vict

Back in Part 1, I already explained that you had told him to his face that you never wanted to see him or Rashta again, and that you would never make Rashta a coffin because she did not deserve your craftsmanship. While you never stated you wouldn’t make one for Sovieshu himself, it was kind of inferred. You retreated to your parlor, and have banned him from entering your own ‘empire’.

To say he was distraught would be an understatement. Not only was he heartbroken, but now you knew about how things work within the palace. All one needs to do is tell you a joke and you would gladly tell them what they wanted to know. What he didn’t know was that you wouldn’t betray the Empire like that, as it could bring harm to those you loved. Like you loved the Phantomhive family back in your world, you loved the Imperial Family (really the Trovi half).

Sovieshu had hired a hitman, but he never heard back from him. Unfortunately for them both, you were aware that you couldn’t die because being a reaper was your punishment for committing suicide in your past life. It was definitely not a great day for the hitman, because you used your scythe to kill him. It was all kept under wraps (perks of being an undertaker), and you just treated the body like normal.

Rashta

She was aware that you were quite serious about your promise in that you never wanted to see her again, and that when her body is sent to you when she inevitably dies, it would be refused. However, even though you knew how she would die, she did not. Sure, she knew she was human, but she didn’t know you were a reaper. She was younger than you, so she thought you would be the one to pass first.

Anyways, she could see Sovieshu’s distress after you left, and it made her so frustrated. The only thing that calmed her down even slightly was the fact that you were in a courtship with Lord Kosair, and you seemed to be completely in love and thus occupied. Unfortunately for her, you did not give her the information she wanted about her previous owners, and that information would be locked away because of what she did out of jealousy.

The young mistress could beg through letters, but you would not give her the time of day. Spoilers, but when you heard that she was executed, you actually refused the commission of a coffin. You remained cold and set upon your decision from all those years ago. You did, however, attend the funeral held, and you placed a rose upon the rather mediocre wooden coffin. You would most likely see her in Hell, if your punishment is fulfilled.

Navier Trovi

She had heard what you said to her husband, and later found out what you said to Rashta when she was helping you pack your things and bidding you farewell. She had to hold in a laugh at your boldness, since not a lot of people would dare insult the mistress of the Emperor or the Emperor to their faces before storming off without an apology. That was when you decided that you could trust her with information free of charge; you told her that you were a Grim Reaper. She was shocked, but you explained that you used to be human and were being punished for committing suicide in your past life.

With that being said, Navier employed your expertise a few times. One example would be when McKenna was shot. The Empress had a servant rush the bird to you so that you could treat it, and you got to work. You cut through the bullshit though, and you knew it was McKenna and not a random carrier bird. He ended up surviving, fortunately, so all was well. You did, however, send a letter to Sovieshu saying that the bird was a letter from you (instead of Heinrey) to make him feel even shittier.

The last time your services were employed was when you were commissioned to work on the getaway vehicle. It was very last-minute, as no one knew that the Emperor would try to keep Navier within the palace. Understanding of the circumstances, you set to work right away, and you made a compartment that would secretly hold Navier inside of it. You designed it like one of your coffins; soft wood, soft cushions, and the scent of the wood was actually pleasant. You engraved a small message that she would be able to read, and it read “Can’t wait to see you!”

Heinrey Lazlo

When his brother died, you were the one who directed the funeral. Again, you did funerals for everyone, as you thought people who deserved them should have access to your beautifully made coffins; even if families couldn’t afford it, you would grant it to them free of charge. That being said, while you were performing the autopsy, you snipped a miniscule section of his hair and placed it in a mourning locket. At the funeral, you presented it to the now-King Heinrey, and you bowed. 

Then, there was the whole ordeal with getting Navier to the Western Kingdom. You set to work on a carriage, even going as far as to employ other people to assist you. However, when the carriage itself was constructed, you paid everyone and went back to incorporate a hiding place within the carriage. It was in the seat, and you used your expertise and designed it like a coffin. You put padding in it as well, so that Navier could be comfortable.

It was a few weeks later where they came back to the Western Kingdom, and they had permission from the High Priest to wed. You were very excited for them, but there was another enemy on your radar: the widow, Lady Krista. You made it clear that you knew that she (SPOILERS) was in love with Heinrey, but you made her a mourning locket as well to remind her that it would be very inappropriate to go after her brother-in-law.

Kosair Trovi

You both are just a bunch of silly gooses when you are with each other. Many jokes have been shared as well as many fleeting kisses. You told him that if he kills someone, you would be there to deal with the body. Then, you straddled him and came real close to his face just to say that if he ever goes to another undertaker, he would be cheating on you. He responded by placing a kiss on your lips and saying that the only undertaker he would ever go to would be you.

Anyways, he helps you with building the carriage that would transport his future brother-in-law along with his sister. Because he knows what this is for, you trust him to help you in building the hiding spot within it as well. You showed him your secrets, how you build your coffins because you fashioned the secret space just like those glorified boxes for dead people. It was the first time where he had seen you so serious rather than showing a bunch of emotion.

He remembers what you said to Sovieshu and Rashta, and while you are working on the getaway carriage, he asks if you were serious. You turned to him with a flash of anger in your glowing eyes as you stated that you would refuse their bodies if they ever managed to darken your doorstep either in life or death. You could be very scary sometimes.

[withlovewriting]

All I Ever Knew, Only You 14: Light 'Em Up

Chapter Fourteen.

So bright, the flames burned in our hearts, That we found each other in the dark, Black beast, out in the wilderness, We are fighting to survive and convalesce, But we're gonna live, we're gonna live, at last, Then I heard the church bells from afar, But we found each other in the dark

Summary: Hawkins was your typical quaint, mid-western town where nothing ever happened. People were born here, lived their entire lives within the town limits, and eventually died here, peacefully in their sleep. But one cold November evening in 1983 would change everything.

Despite a child with psychokinetic abilities and ravenous monsters that lacked faces, stranger things had definitely happened in the small town in Indiana. One of them being your reluctant and slightly imposed friendship with Hawkins High’s own King Bee, Steve Harrington.

Characters: Steve Harrington x Non-descriptive F!Reader (eventual)

Words: 5,726

Chapter Warnings: Explicit language, mentions of injuries, fluff, Protective!Hopper here for duty, the death of dart that i am still not over, attempted suicide in the absolute most minimal way i promise (you'll understand when you read it i promise, everyone is good everything is fine i just don't know how else to label it), i am now totally unsure which one is the bigger idiot.

Series Warnings: Strong language, mentions of underage drinking, mentions of drug use, canon-typical violence, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of possible mental health disorders, child abuse, slow burn, kinda enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, I like to call it ‘two idiots who begrudgingly befriend each other only to realize… ‘wait a damn minute…’, eventual sexual content, no use of y/n, canon-typical time-period bullshit. 18+. Minors DNI.

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Chapter Fourteen: Light 'Em Up

The tires of the blue Camero groaned in discontent, screeching as the car finally came to a stop with half of Merrill’s pumpkin sign still attached to it.

Steve had progressively become more awake, and also more panicked during the ride, and despite the pain you’d be in any time you had to brace during Max’s overzealous drive, you couldn’t deny the fact that had any of the boys driven, you probably wouldn’t have made it out of the Byers’ driveway.

“Told you. Zoomer.” Max told them proudly before pushing open her door and allowing Mike to climb out, followed by Dustin as you and Steve were left to clamber — or in Steve’s case, fall — out of the too-small backseats.

You made your way around to the trunk, grabbing goggles as the kids tied their bandannas around their faces. You didn’t have much time to look for real supplies, and you just prayed that what you had would suffice.

Either way, it would have to do.

Steve groaned as he pulled himself up from the floor where he’d all but rolled to, his face beaten and swollen slightly as he stumbled for a moment whilst he tried to get his bearings.

“No… Guys. Hey, where do you think you’re going?” He questioned Mike as the younger boy strolled right past him, can of gasoline in hand, “What are you, deaf? Hello? We are not going down there right now. I made myself clear. There is no chance we’re going to the hole, all right?”

You passed Steve, too focused on the task at hand to bother yourself with his dramatics, and instead handed Mike a rope as the older boy continued to emphasize his argument. Walking back around to the trunk to grab your own gear, Steve’s hand shot out, the boy stumbling a little as he held on to you.

“This ends now!”

Shrugging his hand off, you sent him a sharp glare whilst Dustin finally responded, “Steve, you’re upset, I get it. But the bottom line is, a party member requires assistance, and it is our duty to provide that assistance.”

Dustin stormed off, making his way toward the group as they began to lower items into the hole whilst Steve stood — still a little dazed — and inhaled deeply. You could tell he was frustrated, but at least he wasn’t yelling about it anymore.

“He’s not wrong.”

“You too? I thought we were on the same side here.” Steve sighed, his tired eyes roaming over your face. The boy had perfected the kicked puppy dog look.

Biting your bottom lip, you moved closer to the boy and placed your hand on his arm that was leaning against the open car door, “We are on the same side, okay? Look, these kids are gonna go down there whether we go with them or not. If you need to stay up here, that’s fine. I get it. But I’m not letting them go down there alone, especially not with those things running around.”

Steve sighed, tightly squeezing his eyes closed, “We said we’d keep them safe…”

Your hand moved from Steve’s forearm, hovering over his bruised knuckles for just a second before gently squeezing his hand, causing the boy’s eyes to pop open almost comically, “So let's keep them safe. You got this, Steve. We got this.”

Your left hand grabbed a backpack from the trunk containing a bandanna, goggles and Steve’s trusty nailed bat. You held it out to him with bated breath, waiting for his decision. After the relentless attack from Billy, you wouldn’t blame him if he decided he needed a time-out. Your own head was throbbing, you couldn’t begin to imagine how his felt.

Nor could you ignore the relief that flooded your bones when he took the bag from you, a simple nod from the boy before you began to pull on your own gear.

In usual Steve fashion, the boy demanded he go first into the hole to check it out and make sure there wasn’t a pack of hungry Demo-dogs waiting underneath for you all to drop directly into their open mouths.

“Holy shit,” Steve gazed around the tunnel as the rest of you dropped down, Mike pulling out a map before setting off in the direction he believed would lead you all to the hive mind.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hey. I don’t think so. Any of you little shits die down here, we’re getting the blame. Got it, dipshit?” Steve grumbled, pushing past Mike, “From here on out, I’m leading the way. Come on, let's go.”

You all began to follow him, no questions asked as Steve led the group and you brought up the rear. By the time you were deep enough into the tunnels, you were ready to throw your flashlight at him. A little hustle this, and c’mon, pick up the pace that.

You’d almost forgotten that he was captain of both the basketball team and the swim team and was more than comfortable ordering people around.

Vines wrapped their way along the long floors, keeping you conscious of where you were stepping, as if they might leap out at you any second and dangle you upside down, and the particles of something floating in the air made you cautious that maybe the bandannas you all wore were not enough to keep your respiratory system safe and working.

You felt like your head was turning every few seconds, paranoia from the Demo-dogs, as well as uncharted tunnels, making you feel on edge and Dustin’s sudden screaming really didn’t discourage that.

Rushing toward the boy as he fell to the ground, his shouts desperate enough to rattle your bones, you grabbed at him as he flinched away, unaware of your presence until you managed to get him to look at you, the boy calling for his friends as the group quickly returned.

Slipping from your grasp as he continued to flail about, the group surrounded him, “What happened?”

“It’s in my mouth! Some got in my mouth! Shit!”

He began to hack up a cough as you pulled down your bandanna, trying to catch Dustin’s attention as you called his name, pulling his face into your hands, all but forcing the boy to look up at you,

“Dustin, relax!”

Gulping in a large breath of air, the boy finally settled, his blue eyes peering into yours, “I’m okay…”

“You serious?”

“Very funny, man. Nice. Very nice.”

The group continued on, murmuring under their breath as you helped pick the boy back up, a possibly too-hard whack to the back of his cap to send him on his way after you pulled up your own bandanna once more.

This was going to be a long night.

“Alright, Wheeler,” Steve sighed, flashlight pointed at the crossroad of tunnels surrounding you, “I think we found your hub.”

“Let’s drench it.”

And so you got to work, covering the walls and surrounding tunnel entrances in gasoline. Turning toward Steve, who was busy pouring out his own canister, you pulled your bandanna down once more,

“Are you sure you won’t, like… light up like a Christmas tree?”

Steve’s brow cocked, the only hint that he was silently questioning you.

“You know, with all that hairspray, are you sure you’re not flammable?”

Despite not being able to see his facial features, you felt it in your soul when Steve was glaring at you, causing a smirk to pull one side of your mouth upward.

“Ha ha, very funny,” the boy’s monotonous tone only caused your smile to broaden as he moved closer toward you, the tips of his sneakers knocking your own slightly as he reached forward with his free hand, rubber glove gently gripping the bandanna that now loosely hung around your neck and pulling it back over your nose, “And stop pulling this down. We don’t know what’s floating around down here.”

Rolling your eyes, you secured the cloth a little tighter around your face and wondered how ridiculous you all looked.

“You guys ready?” Steve asked once you were all standing at the entrance to the tunnel you came from.

“Light her up,” Dustin confirmed as Steve pulled out his lighter.

You felt his dark eyes peering up at you from where he knelt on the floor, “We are in such deep shit.”

You placed a hand over Max’s shoulder, pushing the girl in front of you as the tunnels lit up, an unbearable and unforgiving heat beating across your face as you watched the vines along the floor begin to dance along the embers. Everything really was connected, and you could only hope this didn’t hurt Will more than it had to.

“C’mon, go!” Steve pulled you along by the wrist, only letting go once he was certain your feet would follow, as he pushed his way to lead the group once more, “This way!”

Unfortunately for you, you were running just behind Mike when he took a tumble — a thick vine wrapping around his ankle and slowly dragging him across the floor — causing you to trip right over him, your own ankle rolling under your weight as you failed to catch yourself on the sharp walls of the tunnel.

Mike’s screaming caught the attention of the group as you tried to drag yourself toward the thick vine, unable to untangle it as it fought against you, only tightening its grip on the boy. Despite struggling to pull off your backpack, you finally managed to pull the ax that you were yet to return to Mrs. Byers and hobbled to your feet, balancing on your one good foot as you swung at the vine, cursing as you lost your balance and tumbled toward the wall.

A shrill screech seemed to emit from the vines as they curled up, releasing the boy's ankle as Steve’s bat connected with it once, twice, three times.

Lucas and Dustin pulled Mike up, a tight grip on their friend as they checked him over whilst Steve turned to you, eyes wide even under his goggles as he looked from your face to your ankle, and back again, noting your flamingo-like posture,

“You good?”

Before you could respond, a growl from behind the group stopped you all in your tracks.

A Demo-dog stood on all fours, large mouth opening, and closing as it continued its inhuman noises. Dustin watched for a moment, head cocked slightly to the right.

“Dart.”

When the monster didn’t immediately attack, seemingly checking out the boy in front of him — friend or foe? Possibly even snack — Dustin stepped forward, despite everyone pleading for him to stay where he was.

“Shh, stop. Trust me, please.”

Dustin remained eerily calm as he slowly approached the dog, the monster taking a few cautionary steps closer too, meeting him near the middle of the tunnel.

“Hey, it’s me. It’s your friend, it’s Dustin,” the boy pulled down his bandanna before lifting his goggles in hopes the monster would recognize him, “It’s Dustin, all right? You remember me? Will you let us pass?”

The monster snarled at him, revealing far too many sharp teeth for your liking, but remained in place. If it wanted to, it easily could’ve ripped Dustin apart by now. You knew that as well as the boy did. But this… thing, something about this one was different. Maybe it really was Dart, and maybe, he and Dustin had formed some kind of weird, fucked up human/alternate-dimensional-creature bond in the few days it had taken Dart to sprout four legs and a mouth full of teeth.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about the storm cellar. That was a pretty douchey thing to do. You hungry? Yeah?” Dustin reached into his backpack, pulling out what looked like a Three Musketeers bar, “I’ve got our favorite, see? Nougat.”

As Dustin opened the wrapper, the creature slowly padded toward him, much like a family dog might’ve. Once Dart began to eat, Dustin shooed the rest of you through, Steve holding you up as you hobbled alongside him.

Once everyone had passed, Dustin stood, pulling down his goggles as he moved past to follow the group, turning around as Dart did the same, “Goodbye, buddy.”

As your group rushed back looking for where the rope to safety dangled, leading back up to the surface, the whole tunnel system seemed to shift, rumbling and sending you all in different directions.

“What was that?” Max asked, turning in the direction of… roaring?

“They’re coming. Run! Run!”

Steve lifted Max up first, the girl pulling herself up the rope with no problem, quickly followed by Lucas and then Mike. Dustin was halfway up the rope, clutching to his friend's hands when you saw the first shadow of a Demo-dog on the wall.

“Harrington,” you swallowed, heart pounding against your rib cage, eyes beginning to water as you realized your fate.

“I know, I know…” Steve panicked, gripping his bat in his hands as he shouldered Dustin a little further up, “Go, c’mon, get up-”

You both knew you didn’t have enough time for the two of you to get back out to safety and somehow, Steve had continuously surprised you in these life-and-death situations — especially when it was between his life and your death — constantly putting his safety on the line. Back last year with the Demogorgon, hell, even earlier that evening at the Junkyard.

This time… This time, it was your turn.

“We’re not gonna both make it up there in time. You need to go.”

His head swiveled around so quickly, you were sure he almost gave himself whiplash, but you didn’t give him enough time to disagree as you rearranged the ax in your grip, holding it high and standing your ground despite your shaking hands, “I’m not gonna get up there quickly, it’s pointless. Just go. Please.”

Ignoring the crack of your voice, and the shouting from the kids above you, Steve shook his head, eyes darting between yourself and the incoming monsters, their roaring getting closer and closer, “No, I-”

“Go, Steve!”

“Not without you.”

Snapping your own head toward the boy, you both stood silently as the few seconds that passed felt like hours, before finally accepting your fate.

The kids would be safe. But you were doing this. You and Steve would foolishly take on a pack of Demo-dogs.

Despite Steve’s eyes flicking back to the tunnel, yours remained on him as you tried to swallow down the fear that was crawling up your throat, clutching at your vocal cords and making it impossible to speak.

The first Demo-dog rushed around the corner, but you barely saw a flash of it as you were suddenly spinning around, Steve’s chest colliding with your back as he gripped you with one hand, turning your body behind his.

When the pained cries and shouting and screaming didn’t come, your eyes peeled open, watching as the dogs ran straight past you, entering a different tunnel and paying both you and Steve no mind.

Once the echoes of their rushed feet had disappeared, the tunnel remained silent, even the kids above were in shocked silence. Blood rushed in your ears, as your body shook, the ax falling from your grip and landing by your feet.

Steve’s labored breaths pushed his chest into your back repeatedly, and you weren’t quite sure if it was your heartbeat or his that you could feel.

His grip remained tight around your waist, rubber gloved fingers digging into your skin a little too tightly to be reassuring, yet you still leaned your weight against him, head bent backward at a mildly uncomfortably angle as you pulled down your bandanna and caught your breath, trying to work out if you were actually still alive.

It was only when he tilted his own head down, resting his chin on your shoulder that you flinched away — his panting a little too loud in your ear — the previous pain from earlier that evening finally ebbing its way back now that the adrenaline was finally dissipating from your veins.

“Eleven,” Mike shouted down, “She’s doing it, she’s closing the gate. Get out of there, now.”

Neither of you needed to be told twice, and once Steve had awkwardly lifted you halfway up the rope, allowing you to place your weight onto his shoulder as the other kids had helped you crawl out of the hole, he quickly followed after you just in time to watch the headlights beam on Billy’s car, momentarily blinding you all.

And, just as it had seemed last year…

It was over.

Steve had managed to drive to Hopper’s cabin thanks to your directions as the kids huddled in the backseat. Nobody uttered a word, and the car radio remained off the entire drive. The only words you spoke were a mumbled thank you as he assisted you out of the car, tucking your arm over his shoulders, his own hand wrapping back around your waist as he helped you slowly hobble toward the cabin.

You could only pray that whatever had its hold over Will was gone, leaving the boy unscathed and that Eleven and Hopper were alive and safe.

Thankfully, you’d spotted Hopper’s Chevvy hidden where he usually parked it between the trees and found yourself all but rushing toward the safety of the cabin.

The commotion from the kids must have alerted everyone to your appearance as the group, bar Will and Eleven, stepped out onto the porch, eyebrows pinched together, confused at your sudden appearance. The plan was for you to stay at the Byers and wait. It was clear to everyone that somehow, for some reason, that plan had changed.

You felt a whimper force its way out of your lips before you even recognized the sound as your own when you caught Hopper’s gaze, the man pushing through the small crowd outside the front door, his long legs reaching you quickly.

Steve released you from his grip as soon as the larger man approached, brows still furrowed on his face as he pulled you into a tight hug,

“What the hell happened to you guys?”

It took Steve a second to realize that Hopper’s attention was now directed toward him, his dark blue eyes taking in his bruised face.

“Uh, something came up. We… We couldn’t stay at the Byers. I know we said… I promised we’d look after the kids, but-”

“Can we talk about it later?” You sighed, hoping Hopper would take pity on your tired eyes and pained limp, “Eleven and Will… are they okay?”

Hopper helped you up the porch steps, a sweet smile sent Joyce’s way as she took your face between her warm palms and placed a kiss on your forehead, “They’re fine. Exhausted but… Alive. Safe.”

It felt like a weight had been lifted from your chest, the ability to finally inhale deeply causing your vision to blur a little. The plan had worked, and most of you had survived. Mike had already made his way into the cabin, grabbing at both Eleven and Will and pulling them into a tight hug, quickly followed by the rest of the kids, bar Max who hung back a little.

Joyce, however, moved her attention to the young girl, pulling her into a motherly hug, “Whatever you kids did tonight… Thank you.”

“Can we, uh… Clean up a little?” you turned toward Hopper, nodding toward the bathroom, knowing there was a first aid kit stashed in the medicine cabinet.

Hopper’s gaze switched between you and Steve before sending the latter a slight glare, despite his nod, “Head on through, do you want me to-”

“It’s fine, Hop. We won’t be long,” you sighed, trying to put as little weight onto your ankle as possible as you shuffled Steve into the too-small bathroom.

Once the folding door was shut, shutting out the quiet mumbles from the group, you let out a long, exasperated sigh, leaning on the door whilst Steve was already looking through the cabinet, pulling out the small box.

“Do you want to-”

“No, no… You sit down, I don’t think that ankle is gonna handle any more pressure on it tonight.” Steve interrupted, motioning for you to sit on the closed toilet as he nosed through the first aid supplies.

Finding some ointment for bruising and a clean cloth, Steve ran the tap until the water was warm, ringing out the excess water before standing in front of you, hesitating.

“Do you, uh-”

“I can’t exactly see the back of my head, Harrington.”

Nodding, Steve placed the cloth against the back of your head, a mumbled apology falling from his lips when you hissed in pain.

“Billy, he uh… He didn’t-”

“Billy didn’t touch me,” you sighed, “not really, anyway. Shoved me away from Lucas and I hit my head on the counter.”

An unintelligible grumble fell from Steve’s lips, his eyebrows almost connecting as he frowned, only deepening as you continued to speak, “I must say though, Harrington. I’m pleasantly surprised. You got in, what? At least three hits before-”

“Before he blindsided me by hitting me in the head with a plate?” Steve huffed, pulling away the cloth and rinsing it when he found only dried blood. He took a second to look over the wound, unsure as to what he was really even looking for.

“I mean, it’s Billy. Do you really expect him to play fair?”

Shrugging his shoulders, Steve groaned slightly as he bent down, resting on his knees as he lifted your ankle. After taking off your sneakers and socks, then rolling up your jeans a little, he turned your ankle cautiously as he inspected it. The skin had already begun to swell, and a deep red bruise was blossoming along the outer side of your heel,

“You really need to ice and rest this,” Steve placed the cold cloth against the skin and held it there, continuing to scrutinize your injury.

A small huff fell from your lips as you sent the top of his head a smirk, “Where did you get your Ph.D. from again?”

“I play sports,” Steve’s eyes met yours, an annoyed, but innocuous glare settling across his face as he peered up at you, “I’ve rolled my ankle enough times in Basketball to know how to deal with it.”

A high, mocking tune rumbled in your throat as you cocked a brow, “My bad, Harrington. Didn’t know you liked to play Doctors and Nurses in your spare time.”

“Why do you do that?” He interrupted thumb subconsciously grazing the part of your skin that the cloth didn’t reach.

Your face scrunched slightly, feeling a little too defensive already, “Do what?”

His shoulders slumped as a long sigh escaped his nose, but his eyes remained focused on you, “You know, I think tonight, when you were convincing me to follow those little assholes into the pits of Hell… I think that was the first time I’ve heard you actually call me by my name.”

“I call you it all the time-”

“No,” he interrupted once more, the line between his brows emerging once again as he tried to stress his point, “You call me Harrington all the time. Normally with a glare, but still…”

You remained silent for a moment, wondering if you did, indeed, do that, “Does it matter?”

“I mean, it makes you sound like you’re always mad at me-”

“I am normally mad at you,” you joked, but your smile slipped from your face just as quickly as it had appeared when his expression didn’t change, “I don’t know why I do it, alright? I do it to everyone, I guess…”

“I just…” Steve sighed, the hand that was holding the cloth to your ankle moved to push his hair back from his forehead before quickly reattaching itself to you, as if he needed to anchor himself to something to get his thoughts out, “I like it when you call me Steve. Makes me feel like we’re, you know… Friends.”

You watched as he shrugged, his throat bobbing as he tore his eyes away from you in what you could only assume was embarrassment.

Because even after everything you went through together almost a year ago, even after he saved your life… you weren’t friends. But now?

“Seems like the universe is trying to tell us something.”

Steve’s eyes returned to yours, confusion etched on his face as you sighed and sat up straighter, your body a little closer to him, “We are friends. I mean, you saved my life twice in one year. It would be kinda rude not to be, right?”

A small puff of air forced itself from his chest as he sent you a small smile, “Third time’s the charm,”

“Oh my god, why would you even say that?” You laughed back, mouth agape in faux offense, “But, I suppose I could… try and reserve last names for when I’m actually mad-”

“It would save me a lot of confusion.”

You shared a small, almost silent laugh, his eyes boring into you, seeming much darker in Hopper's dodgy bathroom lightening, Steve’s thumb still subconsciously skimming over your ankle as you both reveled in the quiet, the voices in the lounge were low and muffled slightly, so when the folding door was swiftly yanked open, nearly sending the boy into your lap, you both jumped out of your skin, your wide eyes narrowing into a glower as you stared down the man on the other side of the door,

“You kids need some help in here? Been long enough I thought you’d got lost.”

Rolling your eyes, you settled back against the tank of the toilet with a sigh, “Waiting times in the ER are outrageous. I’ll tell my doctor to hurry it up.”

Steve cleared his throat, discomfort written on his face as he sent Hopper an almost pained smile, unable to keep eye contact for more than a few seconds, “Almost done. Promise.”

You watched Hopper as he watched Steve — the boy suddenly finding the bare wooden floorboards beneath him a little too fascinating — his eyes flitting to you for just a moment before settling back on the boy, “Yeah, well, speed it up, alright? I need to take a leak.”

“Hop,” you heard Joyce warn, pulling the man’s attention for just a moment. His tongue ran across his bottom lip as if he were deep in thought, before he finally conceded, pulling the door across once more, but not shutting it fully.

Steve quickly poured the Arnica ointment onto some toilet paper before gently dabbing it onto your ankle, brows furrowed in concentration “We really should speed things up.”

“Ignore him. He’s just… weird.”

Steve sent you a quirked brow, all too aware that you didn’t bother to lower your voice and that the possibility of Hopper hearing you was high.

“You’re pretty close, huh?”

“He, uh… He dated my Mom. Hung around for a while and never really left, even when they broke up.”

“That’s nice.”

Shrugging, you peered through the gap in the door, eyes finding the man across the room talking quietly with Joyce for a moment before disappearing from your obstructed view, “I guess so. I don’t really see eye to eye with my Mom. I mean, I know what people say about her, about my family, but Hopper, he just… He never cared about all that stuff. I, uh… I cried myself to sleep the night they broke up. I mean, I’d seen guys come and go for years, I was used to it, and I just kind of thought he’d disappear like everyone else. Cross the street when he saw me, duck his head when he saw me in the same aisle at Big Buy… But he just… didn’t, you know? It wouldn’t have ever lasted with my Mom, but he’s been there for me more than anyone. Especially my own dad. I owe him a lot.”

“I don’t think he sees it that way.”

Steve’s comment caught you off-guard slightly. You’d heard all the gross accusations that high schoolers had thrown your way. That Hopper had left your mother for you, that he was your real dad and everything in between. You had thought for so long that he had simply hung around because he felt guilty. Then, you’d heard that he had a daughter, Sara, who had passed away in New York, and you thought that maybe his protectiveness over you was down to grief. That he was trying to make you fit into a Sara-shaped hole.

But Hopper, despite all of his flaws — and he had plenty — was simply a good man.

Sending your sudden tension, Steve scrambled to continue, “I mean, I don’t think he thinks you owe him anything. He seems like a decent guy-”

“He is,” you cut Steve off. Your chest felt heavy and tight as if your body was desperate for the conversation to finish before you burst into tears and embarrassed the both of you.

“All done,” Steve smiled, placing the toilet paper into the sink to be flushed later. He placed your ankle gently on the floor after rolling back down your pant leg and pulling on your sock, “I wouldn’t even try the sneakers, but you do need to ice it.”

Holding out a hand, Steve pulled you up, your bodies a little too close in the cramped bathroom, “We should-”

“Sit your ass down, Steve,” you wanted to pat yourself on the back for remembering, “It’s your turn.”

Eventually, you and Steve emerged from the bathroom, one arm slung over his shoulder as he guided you back into the lounge, Hopper quickly moved from where he was leaning against the wall next to the bathroom and took over, walking you back to his armchair whilst Steve quietly argued — and lost — with Joyce as she tried to give up her own chair, eventually reassuring him that she was going to check on Will, who was resting on Hopper’s fold up bed across the room.

When the once cold can of beer pressed against your ankle had warmed to room temperature, and the box of ‘Eggo’s’ Steve had held against his bruised face had turned soggy, the boy finally pushed himself up, clearing his throat, “I, uh… I should get going.”

You’d explained most of your evening to the group, leaving out that Hargrove had been the cause of your own injuries, and Hopper had told Steve that Billy would find himself on the receiving end of a few extra speeding tickets since the former didn’t want to press charges, and by now, everyone was visibly exhausted. It had been a very long weekend.

“Can I catch a ride?” You asked, already pushing yourself up off the armchair to follow.

Steve nodded and extended the offer, eventually driving you, Max, Lucas, and Dustin out of there. He’d have to drop Billy’s car back before anyone became suspicious, but he’d just waved a hand at you when you’d offered to drive the Camero back after picking up his own car, telling you he would simply walk home and collect it from the woods where he’d left it with yourself and Dustin at the beginning of your hunt for Dart.

Despite Hopper offering to stay at his for the night, you declined. You just wanted to crawl into your own bed and not emerge for a couple of days, despite knowing it was the beginning of another school week. So, after Jim had made you promise to radio him if there was any issue, he begrudgingly sent you off into the night with Steve.

The excitement seemed all too much for the kids, each one falling asleep before Steve had even passed back by Merrill’s farm. His voice was gentle as he woke them up, bar when he gave Dustin a shove, the boy snoring obnoxiously loud as he spread out across the backseat, the last to be dropped home.

Once the boy was safely inside his house, Steve sighed and pulled away, ready to make his way to your house. He could've easily dropped you home first and left Max to last, but the both of you remained quiet as he drove past the long, winding road that would've led to your street. His eyes were red-rimmed and heavy, and he cursed each time his hand subconsciously rubbed at them after he'd pulled over outside of your home.

You hesitated for a moment — your hand ready to open the door — unsure of what to say. So instead, you let out a long sigh and turned in the boy’s direction, “Get home safe, okay?”

Steve nodded, “Want me to walk you to the door? You really shouldn’t be putting weight on that-”

“-After everything that’s happened tonight, if I get murdered between this car, and my front door, then so be it,” you joked, a small smile on your face as Steve tiredly returned it.

Steve’s mouth opened, ready to retort, but instead remained hanging wide as you shuffled across the seat, pulling him into an awkward but quick one-armed hug, “Thanks again, Steve. And I’m sorry for, you know… dragging you along to the tunnels.”

Clearing his throat, Steve sent you a firm nod, “No, it’s… I get it, you know? I mean, either way, we kept the kids safe, right?”

“Right…”

“We make a pretty good team,” a puff of laughter fell from Steve’s lips. The irony wasn’t lost on the boy. 12 months ago, Steve wouldn’t have given you the time of day. You both knew that. Hell, you were certain he wouldn’t be able to pick you out from a lineup full of new students that he’d never met, despite the fact Hawkins only had one high school.

“Yeah, I guess we do. Goodnight, Steve.”

You shuffled out of the car ungracefully, and Steve watched with a wince, forcing himself to remain seated as you hobbled your way up the creaky, decayed porch steps and eventually into your home.

Only once you were tucked away safely in your house, bedroom light flicking on a moment later, did Steve finally drive away.

[silverwings22]

Forget-Me-Not Blue, In Red (Commander Fox One-Shot)

SFW, but injury, Order 66, and angst

This idea hit me out of nowhere, and I don't know if it'll turn into anything bigger like my Tech one-shot did. But have fun with it!

He’d woken up to the truth a little slower than some of his brothers, but Fox had woken up eventually. The Republic, the war, the Empire, it was all a farce put together to turn the galaxy upside down in someone else’s image. He and his kin had simply been the bullet in a loaded slugthrower, and the order had been a finger on the trigger. 

Order 66. 

He’d been aimless afterwards, watching things shift around him. Smoke belched from the burning Jedi Temple for days, while he and the Coruscant Guard ensured order. There were riots, there were planets resisting… then there were TK troopers and suicide missions as clones were phased out. Squad by squad, legion by legion, until no one was left between him and the chopping block. He’d always thought he’d go first, before the younger brothers. The shinies, the ones he looked after and protected. He’d always taken the first week of any posting when a new delegate requested a clone guard detail, so he could see what they were like. The bad ones got older, hardened brothers who could take it. He’d never let little brothers suffer under someone like Palpatine… that’s why he’d stayed so long. He could have transferred, there was one posting he’d always wanted… but he stayed. He took the abuse, the bruises and scars, the unexplainable gaps in his memory, the injuries that looked like lightning strikes on a planet that didn’t have lightning… 

He’d done it for his brothers. Now, most of them were gone. Some turned up dead, on missions or in the barracks without explanation besides a cold look from an Imperial officer. Others just went missing. There were rumors, whispered between clones, of a place you could go and words you could say. If you went, you didn’t come back. Like tales of fae on Stewjon, the mysterious Other Ones would whisk you to a new place. What it was, no clone had returned to tell. Some were willing to risk it. After a year under the Empire, Fox was willing to risk it. 

It was a derelict hangar bay in the lower mid levels. The instructions had said come alone, with only what he could carry and to give up the rest. “I’m looking for a ride home.” He said quietly, just enough he hoped someone heard. He hoped someone came, and it wasn’t a trap to weed out the traitors among the clones. His only answer then would be a blaster bolt to the chest for treason-

“You’re in direct violation of Order 66. You are guilty of treason, and will be executed.”

“Fox?”

The sound of footsteps made him turn, and he found himself looking at 501st blue paint on the white standard armor. Jaig eyes were on the helmet, covered in tally marks to represent fallen brothers… he knew that armor. His comrade, his friend, his brother. “Rex?”

“Fox.” Rex pulled his helmet off, revealing his blonde buzz cut and a new scar on the right temple. “I was hoping you’d show up one day.”

“The reports said you were dead.” Fox reached for his arm with unsteady hands, clasping Rex tightly. If the captain noticed his hands were shaking, he didn’t comment. 

“It’s better if the Empire thinks that. Come on. You’re safe now, vod.”

When Rex took him off Coruscant, Fox was whisked to a field hospital. He wasn’t even sure what planet he was going to, Rex apologizing when he told him the secrecy was needed. “There’s a chip in your head, vod. That’s why you carried out the Order. We have to take it out, and make sure you’re okay before you decide what you do with the rest of your life.”

“What have other clones been doing?” Fox asked, sitting blindfolded in a seat of a shuttle beside him. 

“Some decided to keep fighting. There’s a resistance, mostly clones but with some nat-born help. Others have been retiring. They’re exhausted. I can’t blame them… some go to a place a couple friends of mine found, called Pabu. Others have settled on Pantora. Senator Chuchi’s been helping us.”

“I can’t go to Pantora.” Fox said, too fast and he knew it.

“Did something happen, Fox?”

“I did something… during the Order. Something unforgivable.”

Rex patted his brother’s shoulder. “We all have regrets. It wasn’t your fault, it was the control chip in your brain. We’ll get it out soon, and you’ll be free. I promise.”

Fox wanted to call his brother a liar. He’d never be free from what he’d done. He wanted to confess right there, but his jaw locked and his throat closed at the memory of the night the Republic fell. “C-can I tell you?” He finally managed to rasp. “You should know… who you’re saving. What I’ve done.”

“You’re my brother, Fox. That’s all that matters.” Rex said it kindly, but Fox didn’t feel like he deserved any of it. “But I’m listening.”

Fox nodded, fists clenched in his lap. With the blindfold on, he could imagine every word he spoke as he stuttered out the story. The worst thing he’d ever done, the reason he had to get out of the Empire.

Kandri Chitose had been Senator Riyo Chuchi’s personal assistant, a golden-eyed beauty who always wore her rose-pink hair in a set of twin buns held with golden pins. He’d met her when Chuchi requested a clone detail for her, and Fox had arrived for his customary week-long observation. 

Most delegates, even the nice ones, didn’t address the clones at first. Most were nervous being around military personnel, and didn’t know how to break the ice. Some were intimidated. Many just didn’t view the clones as people, and acted accordingly. 

She’d offered him a cup of caf before he was fully in her office. “Good morning!” She’d been balanced precariously on a stool, set in a rolling desk chair, trying to reach the bag of caf on top of her office shelf. “Hold on a moment, I’ll make us both a cup if you’d like. My menace of a brother came to visit and he put my caf all the way up here! Do you like caf? I have tea if you’d prefer.”

“Do you need help, ma’am?” He could only watch her on the tippy toe of one foot, blue calf disappearing under her red dress. Her favorite color, he’d find out eventually. 

“I think I’ve- aha! Got it.” She clambered down with a smile. The gold tattoos on her face formed a bar over her nose and triangles on her chin and cheekbones. “Now then. I’m Kandri. What’s your name, and please don’t tell me a CT number. I get mixed up with numbers, but I’m good with names.” 

“Commander Fox, ma’am.” 

She held out a hand to shake, and her nails were painted red. He’d remember that polish forever. “It’s nice to meet you, Commander. Caf or tea?”

“Caf is fine, but you don’t have to go to the trouble-”

“It’s not trouble. There’s creamers in the fridge by my desk, pick whichever you like.” She headed to the caf maker and got it going with deft fingers. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever put creamer in caf.” He frowned, but took his helmet off so he could at least enjoy the offering she was so insistent on giving him.

She wrinkled her nose. “To each his own. If you ever change your mind, it’s right there. Here’s the sugar. Now, I know they didn’t tie up a Commander like you to babysit little me, so you must have stuff you need to get done. Can you do it here, or should we go to your office after caf? I can work anywhere. Riyo just has me drafting her speeches today.”

By the end of the week, Fox almost didn’t leave the posting. She made him caf every morning, and let him get work done. When there was time, she asked him about himself and his brothers. And he’d tried every creamer in her fridge.

He assigned her a shiny, because he knew she’d be good to his little brother. She’d given him her comm frequency and told him he had an open invitation to have caf in her office, and to call her if he ever needed anything.

Fox infamously didn’t like people. He liked Kandri after that. 

He didn’t intend to call her. He felt bad as he dialed the frequency, but it was 0300 and he had no one else to call for help. She hadn’t asked any questions, just showed up at the senate building in a red peacoat over her white nightgown, feet in a pair of ballet flats. He was on the bottom of the stairs with a broken foot and gash over his eye. Kandri had pulled his weight, armor and all, onto her narrow shoulders and helped him to her office so she could take a look at him. She’d cleaned his cut and put a bacta patch on it, then tried to argue with him that he needed to go to the hospital. 

He feigned embarrassment and told her he’d fallen down the stairs. Kandri had put her hands on her hips and stared him down, her hair out of its buns and falling in gentle waves down almost to her waist. He’d never thought about how pretty she was until then, in her pajamas with no makeup, golden eyes bright with worry. He eventually did let her take him in her skycar to the garrison medbay across the city sector, where she’d sat with him until a clone medic set and put his foot in a boot. Then she’d driven him to the barracks, taken one look at how many stairs he’d have to manage, and shook her head. “You can sleep on my couch, Fox. Call Thire and tell him you’ll be out until you’re better.”

“I can’t let everything pile up on him, Lady Chitose-” 

“Then I’ll pick up your datapad tomorrow and you can call it light duty. But you need to rest, or your foot won’t heal right. And please… just call me Kandri?”

After his foot healed, he made time to see her more often. She always had a cup of caf and a smile for him. Sometimes she picked up lunch for herself and Senator Chuchi and “got an extra” that always coincided with something he’d mentioned wanting to try or liking before. He watched her, bit by bit, moderate herself for him. 

If he mentioned that a certain phrase reminded him of the senator that threw a full cup of hot caf across the room at him or a brother, that phrase disappeared from her vocabulary. If he mentioned a delegate who mistreated clones, she stepped between them and her shiny guard the next time they met in the hall. Fox noticed, if he didn’t see it live he’d find out on security holo review later. Bit by bit, she showed him she was safe. She was kind. She could be trusted. 

Eventually, he started letting her visit his office after hours, when he was catching up on things and no one else was there. She sat in the chair by his desk, moving it closer day by day… until one day she was sitting on the desk corner itself. His helmet was sitting beside her, and her hand rested lightly on it. 

“Fox?”

“Hm?”

“How’d you get that scar across the bridge of your nose?” Her voice had been so quiet, so fretful and hesitant. Like she was afraid she’d scare him off.

He paused, stylus in hand, and looked at her. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I see how many other ones you have. Your hands, your arms under your blacks, your chest… when you stayed at my apartment, I could see there were so many…”

“I’m a soldier, Kandri. Scars are a part of the job.”

Her pink eyebrows furrowed, red painted lips parting as she fixed her eyes on him. “Fox. I know you didn’t fall down the stairs that night.” 

Fox stiffened. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes you do.” She slowly leaned a little closer. “I see you. The first one to step between your brothers and danger. The last one to back down. You didn’t even flinch when that Zillo creature attacked this building, but you twitch when we pass certain senators in the hall. You look around when you hear the Chancellor’s voice. And you’re a clone commander, the most graceful and battle-ready people in the galaxy. You didn’t fall. Someone pushed you. Tell me who.”

“I can’t do that.” He shook his head, unable to tear his eyes away from hers. 

“But they hurt you.”

“I’m a soldier. A clone. We’re meant to be expendable.”

“That’s not fair, Fox.” Kandri kept leaning in, though her hand on his helmet tightened its grip. “It’s not right. You don’t deserve it.”

“Lots of people think so.” He swallowed hard. He had an idea of what she was going to say next, and he wanted to hear it just as much as he didn’t. Once the words came out of her mouth, he’d never forget them. They’d mean too much to him.

“I would never hurt you.” Kandri whispered. “But I know you can’t believe that. Too many people have already let you down.” 

He’d never been more seen than that moment, in the light of those golden eyes. There was no formality or procedure to hide behind. He’d already let her in too close, he couldn’t close the door again. “I want to believe you.” He admitted. 

“Would you let me try to prove it?” 

The galaxy had moved much too fast when he nodded. “... how?”

“Like this.” She’d kissed him, so soft and sweet and unlike anything he’d known since the day he came out of the growth tube. She pulled back after a moment, checking his expression for hesitation or distaste. When she found none, her cheeks flushed indigo and she slowly reached up to cup his face in both her hands. He closed his eyes when her thumbs stroked under them, tracing his scar and temples, where his black hair had started to gray far too early even for a man with accelerating aging. “I would never hurt you.” She said softly. “I’ll keep telling you until you believe me.” 

He was one of millions of men, made to die indistinguishably as numbers on a strategy board. He’d accepted it in his exhausted way, told himself he’d do what he could for as long as he could to keep the vod’ikase safe. But for a moment, under Kandri’s soft blue hands, he felt like he might actually matter. He didn’t quite believe, but he wanted to.

Her second kiss was on his forehead. He adored her after that.

Stolen kisses during caf time turned to sneaking out of the barracks into her apartment, or either of their offices. Riyo Chuchi wasn’t stupid, she knew there was more than a friendship and simply let Kandri off the hook early some days. If her skycar was still at the senate building when the Senator left… she didn’t say anything. 

Fox knew he was in love with her when she had to go back to Pantora for a month with Chuchi. She’d kissed him goodbye in an alcove behind the barracks, promising she’d be back soon. He’d missed her every single day, and thought about comming twice an hour at least. Only the reality that they both were working stopped him… but he found himself thinking about her constantly. Every petty jab from a senator who viewed him as barely more than a droid was easier to take when he imagined her rolling her eyes and whispering what an asshole she thought they were. Even the innate dread he felt whenever he was in Palpatine’s office eased slightly if he distracted himself with the thought she was coming back soon. 

The Chancellor had noticed. Fox should have realized that was odd. There was no outward sign, no change in behavior, he’d been sure of it. But Palpatine had looked suspicious, like he’d both anticipated Fox’s discomfort and felt slighted by its absence. He’d been worse than ever after that, but Fox ignored it. It didn’t matter. The job, the Republic, wasn’t his entire life anymore. It was just an assignment, something to get through so he could go back to where he wanted to be. Kandri waited on the other side of whatever shitty day he was having, with open arms. 

When she’d sent him a message that she was back, he’d asked Thorn to cover for him for the first time in his life. His brother had been delighted, grinning like a moron. “Please tell me you have a date. And please tell me it’s that cute Pantoran girl with the buns.”

“That’s classified.” Fox had left his helmet in his office, he was in such a rush. He never forgot equipment, and failed to give a fuck when he realized what he’d done. He’d get it again when he went back to work. All that mattered was getting to her apartment. 

Kandri had met him at the door, in a red sweater over her day dress, and threw her arms around his neck. “I missed you so much.” She’d whispered, snuggling into his chest. “It’s good to be home.” He’d understood then, that Pantora wasn’t her home anymore. He was, like she was his. He’d spent the whole night in her arms, lighter than he’d felt since he was a cadet. She was almost asleep on his chest when he kissed her rosebud pink hair and murmured. “I believe you.” 

Kandri had smiled, looking up at him in the dimness of her bedroom, the city lights from the window casting dynamic shadows across her face as she smiled at him. Her fingers trailed over the bridge of his nose. “I love you too.” 

“Execute Order 66.” 

When the Order went out, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. His head was in a vice, his thoughts muddled and discoordinate. He’d walked out of his office with other members of the Coruscant Guard, up to Palpatine’s office. The window had been broken. There were dead Jedi, traitors. The 501st was marching on the Temple, and he was to catch any who escaped them. 

All Jedi had to die. 

It had been a blur. His boots on the ground, orders given, the sound of breathing in his helmet, and then he’d turned down into an alleyway. 

Two kids, barely more than ten or twelve, were clinging to each other. They were dressed in brown robes, with beaded braids by their ears. Next to them were a pair of Pantoran adults, a male and a female. They were comforting the padawans, clearly trying to help them. When he turned the corner, the woman stiffened at the sound of his boots. Before she even turned around, Fox had recognized her red dress. “Kandri.”

“Fox.” Kandri’s eyes were wide, but she looked relieved to see him. “What’s going on? These padawans said the Temple was attacked! We were out walking-” She took a step towards him, but froze when his blaster lifted. 

Run, Kandri. Run. Take the padawans, take the other Pantoran. Run. Memory begged her, but she hadn’t. She’d pushed the other Pantoran and children behind her. “Lofi… take them and go.”

Lofi. Her brother, the one who hid her caf. She talked about him, he was a disability advocate and teacher at the fiber arts college at Coruscant University. He was blind. She was so proud of him. They were twins. Fox remembered all the facts but he couldn’t lower the blaster. 

“You’re in direct violation of Order 66. You are guilty of treason, and will be executed.” His own voice had said, dull and uninflected, like he was complaining about the pre-programed weather and not pointing a blaster at her. 

Kandri’s eyes watered up with tears. “Fox… please.”

“You are a traitor to the Empire.” There hadn’t even been an Empire yet, but he’d said it like it had existed for decades. 

The tears spilled over, tracking down her cheeks. There were freckles across her nose, darker blue and barely visible in the dim alley light. A constellation all his own, or it had been. “I love you.” She whispered, because of course she had. What else could she have said, in the moment before he pulled the trigger? Before the blaster bolt struck her dead in the chest and she collapsed backwards, head slamming into the pavement. Sprawled on her back, one bun coming loose and dipping pink hair into a puddle, knees tucked together and one foot bare where the blast had knocked her right out of her shoe. 

He’d ripped his helmet off and vomited immediately, tears in his eyes. 

He’d shot her. He’d killed her.

Kandri. 

He wished she had run. He’d never have seen her again, and she’d have thought he was a child-hunting monster for the rest of her life but she would have been alive. Instead, she was dead in an alleyway. And Fox should have called it in, but he couldn’t make himself get any closer to the corpse of the woman who’d only this morning had been alive and sneaking him a breakfast pastry from a Senatorial banquet just because she knew he liked cinnamon. 

Fox had left her there, because he couldn’t make himself look at what he’d done.

When he finished the story, Rex just let him squeeze his hand. “I’m sorry, vod. I’m so sorry.”

After the chip was removed and he recovered, Fox didn’t know what to do with himself. He refused Pantora, he was hesitant about Pabu… so he decided to join Rex’s fight. Senator Chuchi was helping Rex, and it was a fight worthy of going to battle again. It was something he could imagine being proud of eventually, if he could ever be proud of anything he ever did again. 

No matter how much his vode assured him that the chip had forced his hand, he still remembered he’d been the one to pull the trigger. He’d hunted those padawans. He’d declared Kandri Chitose a traitor. He’d killed her for the very thing he’d fallen in love with, her willingness to stand between someone and what hurt them. She’d been willing to save someone. She’d saved him, and those padawans, and her brother. 

He couldn’t save her from himself.

“The base here is staffed with mostly clones, but there’s a couple civilian volunteers. Trace and Rafa Martez own the hangar you came to, you’ll see them. There’s a couple mechanics, one really smart and obnoxious droid technician, and a cleaner.” Rex explained, walking Fox in. “Don’t eat anything Howser says he cooked. Don’t stand near Gregor if he says he’s got an idea…. Anything else he should know, Vik?”

The bearded clone beside him, with gray eyes and a tired expression born of a place Fox had only heard whispered about, “Tantiss”, nodded. “Be nice to Kitty. Every clone in here will punch you if you make her cry.”

“Kitty?” Fox frowned. 

“She’s the cleaner. A couple of the guys who defected like you did found her barely alive on their way out. She had a sucking chest wound, but they had some spare bacta and managed to save her. She doesn’t talk, we’re not sure if she can’t or just won’t. But she makes little noises like a tooka, so we started calling her Kitty and she seems to like it.” Vik explained. “She looks after everyone, especially the new guys who just got out of the Empire. She likes to bring people food.” 

Fox nodded. “She sounds nice.”

Rex smiled. “I keep trying to get her to leave base, to see if we can find out who she is. She doesn’t seem to remember anything… but if anyone so much as mentions it, she hides. I found her in a walk in freezer once.”

“She didn’t get sick?” Fox frowned. 

Vik shook his head. “Pantorans can take the cold better than us.”

Fox winced, but nodded. 

“Here she comes. Someone must have told her we had a new arrival.” Rex nodded. 

Sure enough, coming from the back of the base was a Pantoran girl with pink hair tied into a messy braid. She was wearing what looked like clone blacks bottoms and an undershirt, with a gray poncho tucked into her belt, and too-big boots, while very proudly carrying a tray of fruit. Vik smiled as she got close enough to make out the details of her face. “Hey, Miss Kitty.”

Kitty made a definitively tooka-like purr-myrr sound and held up the tray towards him. 

Rex nodded. “She’ll get upset if you don’t at least eat a little.” He whispered to Fox. “She keeps this place spotless, and we give her little odd jobs outside of that to keep her happy.” 

Fox nodded, turning back towards her as Kitty walked up with her tray. Just as her boots stopped, inches from his own, he dropped his helmet to the floor.

There was a constellation of freckles across her nose, sitting under liquid gold eyes that looked back at him with a guileless smile. She wore no makeup, no gold pins in her hair, but Fox’s mouth went dry at the sight of a ragged blaster-burn scar peeking just out of the top of her shirt. Her braid, pulled over her shoulder, was tied with a tattered ribbon in a bright, cheerful red. She held up the tray again, squeaking at him curiously with tone instead of words. 

“Th-thank you.” Fox whispered, taking a piece of melioruun. Kitty kept squeaking until Rex and Vik took a piece, then trotted off after Howser in the distance. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Vik frowned.

“You don’t need to take her off base to know who she is.” Fox whispered, the fruit dripping juice down his gloves when he unconsciously squeezed it. 

“You know her?” Rex glanced over at Kitty again. He’d been trying to figure out what to do with a girl who could barely seem to look after herself, but who was determined to try to look after the clones fighting for their lives against the Empire.

“I’m the reason she can’t talk, or remember.” Fox swallowed hard. “It’s her.”

“Her?” Rex frowned.

“The one I told you about… Her name is Kandri Chitose.”