#{verse: sometimes there are things no one can fix}
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desireandduty · 1 year ago
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"We're completely out of tea," Padmé - or Veré as she was known by nowadays - called out over her shoulder to Sabé and Obi-Wan as she opened the front door of the country home they all shared on Dantooine. "I'm just taking the speeder into town to get more. If there's anything else on the list, let me know." She didn't wait to hear more than responses from the two first floor bedrooms that sounded vaguely like an affirmative. It was early enough that only the adults in the house were awake. The second of Dantooine's two suns had only just floated up above the horizon, and in the softer morning light, the prairie grasses seemed to gleam golden. It was a beautiful, calming sight, and before she mounted one of their speeder bikes, Padmé stood silently and gazed out over the scene, drinking in the beauty of this moment.
Until her eyes fell upon a figure approaching their house. Though the grasses continued to undulate in the gentle morning breeze, Padmé froze completely still, her eyes fixed on the man walking steadily towards her. Even though it had been nearly three years since she'd last seen him, she would recognize him anywhere. In the three years of their marriage, she had taken care to memorize every line of his body, every scar and every limb. She knew the way he walked, with that cocky confidence, how he stood tall and determined in the face of anything that came his way. Was it really, truly possible that he was finally here? The day she'd been yearning for had finally come?
She blinked rapidly a few times, just to be certain he was really there and not a figment of her imagination. Only then did she realize her eyes were wet with tears. But the gesture of blinking seemed to restore some of her ability to move. She was finally able to move her mouth out of the shocked "oh" it had fallen open into and form the word that had haunted her dreams for the past three years: "Anakin?"
And then, as if whispering his name had broken the spell that held her motionless on the front porch, she suddenly took off running straight through the field. All thoughts of tea or errands or anything else were forgotten as she raced towards him. When they finally met amidst a sea of chest-high (for her) prairie grass, Padmé half-sobbed, half-laughed in relieved delight as she launched herself into his arms. "Ani, my Ani. You're really here," she murmured in his ear before burying her face in his neck and just breathing in the scent of him. Her arms wound around his neck, clinging as though he might vanish if she loosened her grip. Inside her chest, her heart was beating the riotous dance of a hope at long last fulfilled.
teehee surprise starter for @sithdestined
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flwrkid14 · 5 months ago
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Love Like a Gothic Novel
Tim doesn’t think of himself as particularly romantic.
Sure, he loves Danny—loves him with the kind of devotion that could make or break empires, loves him with a ferocity that could shake the stars from the sky. But romance? That’s always been something more suited to poetry, to grand gestures in old films, to couples who carve their initials into tree trunks and murmur sonnets beneath the moon.
Romance isn’t for people like him. It's for people like Danny.
Danny, who looks at Tim like he’s the first and only wonder of the universe. Danny, who says beloved with a reverence that makes Tim feel like something sacred, like a prayer answered in full. Danny, who looks at him like he hung the stars in the sky and named each one after the sound of his heartbeat.
Tim never stood a chance.
(Neither did anyone else who has to witness it.)
The first time it happens, they’re fighting a group of goons in an alley, and Tim hears the telltale sound of a gun being cocked behind him. Before he can turn, Danny appears—cloak billowing, eyes glowing like the ghosts in old fairytales.
“How dare you,” Danny says, voice rich and dripping with venom. “You would dare raise a weapon against my heart? Against my soul? Against the very breath that fills my lungs?!”
The gun is on the ground before the goon even realizes he’s dropped it.
Tim barely has time to blink before Danny grabs his wrist, pulling him close like they’re about to waltz. The fight is still going on around them, but Danny lifts Tim’s gloved hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles like they’re in the middle of a ballroom instead of a crime scene.
“You are safe, my love,” Danny murmurs. “Always.”
Tim is mortified.
The rest of the family is delighted.
After that, things spiral.
Danny starts leaving handwritten notes in his cape like love letters sent from the battlefield—ink-stained scraps of paper folded carefully and tucked between his gauntlets, slipped into his utility belt. Sometimes, they’re poetry, verses that read like something stolen from the pages of a forgotten novel. Other times, they’re dramatic declarations of vengeance.
(“My dearest Polaris, I have heard troubling news that someone—someone—has made you sad. Rest assured, I will handle this. I will destroy them. I will salt the earth in your name.”)
Tim never figures out how Danny gets the notes in his suit.
And it’s not like Tim doesn’t return the feelings. His love isn’t something grand or sweeping—it’s in the way he fixes Danny’s gloves when they start to fray, in the way he absentmindedly tangles their fingers together while he’s working. It’s in the late-night coffee runs when Danny’s had a bad day, in the way he memorizes Danny’s favorite food spots just to surprise him later. It's in the way he looks at him like he’s something divine.
Danny notices.
Danny always notices.
And if the family wasn’t already insufferable about it before, they’re unbearable now.
Dick sighs dramatically whenever Danny dips Tim during fights just to kiss him. Cass watches with open delight whenever Danny calls Tim darling in that rich, old-fashioned tone. Jason still won’t stop muttering about how is this our reality? Where does Timbo even find these people?
The only one truly suffering is Damian, who looks like he’s considering self-exile whenever Danny sighs, “Mon amour,” and Tim just… accepts it like it’s normal.
(It is normal. Danny has been like this from day one. Tim is just used to it.)
And when Tim presses a kiss to Danny’s temple after a long night, when he rests a hand over Danny’s heart like he’s grounding himself there, Danny’s expression softens into something unbearably fond.
“My heart,” Danny murmurs. “My shadow, my light, my love—”
“Go to sleep, Danny.”
“…Yes, Polaris.”
(They are ridiculous. It is perfect)
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ghostedgwen · 14 days ago
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marauders band au, hear me out: established relationship with Remus - he writes her a song they were first dating (band is not that known yet) then fast forward to years later (band is now famous), he uses same song when proposing to reader
fade to nothing | r.lupin
note : FINALLY! omg Gabi ilysm I wanna keep writing for band au marauders after indulging in this one holyyy, thank you thank you for this amazing request! I had the best time writing 4.8k words of this absolutely amazing plot
warnings : some angst and falling out, breakups, situationships almost, fame and all the angst that comes with it, angst with comfort, hurting and healing, a happy ending
You were there from the beginning and Remus happened to lose sight of you and everything that mattered when fame came and the songs played louder, but surely if the love is strong you can fix what isn't entirely broken?
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You find him backstage after the set, crouched on a flight case, tuning the same string on his guitar for the third time. The venue's still buzzing behind the curtain - voices raised, laughter echoing, cheap beer sloshing in plastic cups - but Remus looks like he’s somewhere else entirely.
He doesn’t look up when you call his name, so you try again, a little softer this time. "Remus."
His head lifts, slow, like he’s wading through a fog, and when he sees you, the line of his shoulders eases just slightly. "Hey."
You sit beside him. The flight case creaks under your weight, and he shifts his guitar to make room. The body of it knocks gently against your knee. You let the silence settle between you. It’s familiar by now - actually comfortable, in that uncertain, almost-there kind of way.
The set had gone well, you thought. Not perfect - James missed a cue in the second verse of their opening number, and Sirius got too excited with his distortion pedal halfway through the closer. But the crowd had been decent, the applause warm, and no one had stormed off stage or broken anything vital. By the Marauders’ standards, that was a win.
You glance over at him. His hands are still on the strings, but he's not really playing. Just touching, like he needs something steady to keep from drifting.
"You alright?" you ask.
He shrugs. "Yeah. Just tired."
It's not a lie, not exactly. But it's not the whole truth either. You know him well enough by now to hear the things he doesn't say. The tension in his jaw. The way his foot taps against the floor, subtle and uneven.
You nudge his arm gently. "You were good tonight. The new bridge on ‘Smoke Signals’ worked. People liked it."
He exhales a soft laugh, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "You think?"
"I know."
Another beat of quiet. Then, with a sort of resigned breath, he sets the guitar aside and runs a hand through his hair. "I, uh... I have something. If you want to hear it."
Your eyebrows lift. "Something?"
He nods toward his worn-out rucksack, half-zipped and slouched against the wall. "It’s not finished. Just a rough demo. I haven’t even played it for the others yet."
You wait, unsure.
Remus has always been the most reserved of the four. James is bold and loud, Sirius even louder, and Peter - well, Peter tries. But Remus hangs back, watching, writing, always half somewhere else. His songs come out of nowhere sometimes, all tension and feeling and quiet devastation.
And he never shares them unless they matter. So when he pulls a battered cassette recorder from the bag, your heart skips.
He presses play before you can say anything. Just static, then the soft scrape of fingers on strings.
It starts tentative. A delicate picking pattern that feels like it could fall apart any second. His voice enters like he’s afraid to hear it back - low, fragile, like something said in the dark.
You walked in like a whisper / I wasn’t ready to be seen / In a room full of noise and flash and smoke / You looked right through the screen.
You blink.
The song is quiet and quite simple. But it holds a weight you feel inyour chest.
I’ve been running half a lifetime / Hiding all the parts I hate / You didn’t ask for pieces / But you stayed, anyway.
He doesn’t look at you while it plays. He stares at the floor, hands in his lap, thumb twitching.
The song winds through verses that feel like journal entries, private and unpolished. There’s a moment in the middle where the guitar falters, like he nearly lost the thread. But then he finds it again, voice steadier.
So if I fall apart tomorrow / And I can't find my way through / Just know there was one clear moment / When everything felt true.
And then the refrain, soft like a promise:
I think I found something real / In the middle of the noise / In the quiet after the soundcheck / In the tremble of your voice.
When it ends, the silence feels heavier than the music.
You don’t say anything at first, and neither does he.
It’s like something raw hangs in the air, and touching it might make it vanish. You could almost feel your heart melt out of your chest and spill to the floor.
He clears his throat. "It’s not done. Still needs work."
You shake your head. "Remus."
He glances at you, eyes guarded.
"That was..."
But you don’t have the word. Stunning? Moving? 
He waits. "You wrote that? For me?"
His mouth quirks, nervous. "Yeah. I mean. I didn’t know if I should. Or if it was weird. But I couldn’t stop thinking about... that night after Camden. When we walked back to the station. And you said you didn’t know what we were, but you didn’t want to stop finding out."
You remember it was raining. You shared an umbrella, not hands. You both pretended it wasn’t a moment. You look at him now, the real him, sitting there with his heart practically in your hands. And it hits you how rare this is. How brave.
"It’s beautiful," you say. "And it’s not weird. It’s... it means a lot."
He heaves a sigh, it was long and relieved.
"I’m not great at saying things straight," he murmurs. "But I meant all of it. I think you know that."
You do. Which is probably what makes this so much more magical, because you understood him so well like he was made for you to decipher, a poem just for you to get.
You reach over, lacing your fingers with his. His palm is calloused from strings and stress. He grips you gently.
"So what are we, then?" you ask.
He doesn’t answer right away. Just looks at your joined hands like they might vanish if he breathes too hard. Then: "We’re figuring it out. Together."
It’s not a love song, not really quite there yet, but it’s something real. And in the backstage quiet, long after the music fades, it feels like a beginning.
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The nights blur together. A haze of rehearsals, takeout containers littering the floor, cheap beer, and the low hum of amps that never fully shut off. Sometimes you're there with them in the thick of it - perched on the arm of a threadbare sofa while Sirius knocks over mic stands and James tunes his guitar by ear, stubborn and sharp. Other times you're in the background, notebook in hand, watching Remus quietly untangle melodies the way other people breathe.
Your role in The Marauders was more behind the scenes than on-stage with them. You helped get their name around, found gigs for them and even helped get them together at times. You were almost the anchor that held the band together, without them even declaring it, they knew. So did you.
Your relationship with him unfolds not in declarations, but in passing touches, exchanged glances, the brush of his shoulder against yours when he walks past in a narrow hallway. It isn't defined, not in the way others might need it to be. But you know the shape of it, and so does he.
Sometimes you sleep tangled in his sheets, half-covered in lyrics scribbled on the backs of setlists. Sometimes you fall asleep to the scratch of his pen, the low murmur of him humming a chorus to himself. There are no promises made, just moments. But they were more than enough.
The Marauders are starting to pick up steam.
Small shows turn into bigger ones. The crowds are still half friends and drunk uni students, but there’s talk now. About their sound, about the way James can work a room. About Sirius, magnetic and manic on lead guitar, playing like his life depends on it. Peter holds it together more than he doesn’t. And Remus - Remus writes like he's bleeding onto paper.
You catch Remus late one night, alone in the tiny kitchen of the shared flat the band uses as a crash pad. He’s nursing a cup of tea that’s gone cold, staring at the yellowing wallpaper like it just told him a secret only he can unfold.
You lean on the doorway. "You okay?"
He startles. Then gives a tired smile. "Didn’t hear you."
You cross the room, brush your fingers over the back of his neck. He leans into the touch without thinking. "You're in your head again," you murmur.
He shrugs. "Just thinking."
"About?"
He hesitates. Then, "About what happens if this actually works. If we make it."
You frown. "Isn't that the goal?"
He nods, but there's something unreadable in his eyes. "Yeah. But you don’t get to stay invisible when it happens. People look closer at everything."
You know what he means. About the scars that don’t fade, the nights he still wakes up clawing at himself. About the part of him he’s always tried to keep hidden beneath dry wit and harmonies.
You slide into the chair next to him. "You’ve never been invisible. Not to me."
He looks down, smile faint. "I know."
You rest your head on his shoulder. "Then what are you scared of?"
He doesn’t answer right away. Then, quietly: "That I’m not built for this. That if they see too much, they’ll leave."
You sit with that for a while, letting the softness of the silence wrap around you two. Then, just as softly, "They won't. Not if they have any sense."
He huffs a laugh. "You always think the best of me."
"I know the best of you."
He kisses your temple and whispers a thank you he probably doesn’t think you hear. But you do, you just smile through it as you knew he never needed to thank you.
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A week later, you catch him slipping the demo cassette you remember into his pocket before rehearsal.
You arch a brow. "Finally going to share it?"
He looks caught. Then shrugs. "Maybe."
You grin. "Do it. You know it’s good."
He gives you a look like you’ve just dared him to jump into fire. Still, that night at the studio (more like the Potters’ spare room they never use), when the rest of the band is messing around with ideas for their next set, Remus clears his throat.
"Got something new. If you want to hear it."
Sirius pauses mid-riff, James turns down his amp, and eter puts down his half-eaten sandwich. Remus slides the tape into the player. Hits play and your song - his song, your song - fills the room.
No one speaks until it's over.
James is the first to break the silence. "Shit. That’s... damn."
"That chorus," Peter breathes. "It got me, mate."
Sirius whistles low. "Didn’t know you had that in you."
Remus looks stunned. Maybe a little terrified, but he nods. You catch his eye, and then you smile. It felt good to be someone’s muse, to have art made just for you that you knew would mean so much to you than anyone else could possibly understand.
Later, when you’re walking home under the quiet sky, his fingers brush yours.
"Thanks," he says.
"For what?"
"Pushing me."
You squeeze his hand. "Any time."
It starts small, that song. Tucked into the middle of a chaotic setlist. But people start to notice, and even ask about it. The quiet one, they say. The unusually quiet and comforting love song that was a nice surprise to end their sets on.
Remus hears that and flushes pink. You hear it and just smile, it was always your job to talk to people while the band either prepared to start or to leave. Remus always claimed you had a way with people and perhaps he was right.
You often find yourself chatting with the audience as they enjoy the show the band put on. They’d ask you about the band, about the members and you’d entertain them all. You even got the boys gigs as you made your rounds through the night.
James swears you are the best addition to the band, without actually being in it. He would go as far as to sar you are also a Marauder, as much as they are and you’d laugh, heart swelling with joy.
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You were the one who sent the emails, made the calls, chased the bookings. You built their early buzz from scratch - wrote press blurbs at midnight, talked your way into indie zines, begged that one radio host to give them a spin. You did it because you believed in them. Because you believed in him.
And it worked.
One day, the email came. A scout from a mid-size label. He’d caught a set at one of the East End dives and saw something. A few meetings later, they had a deal.
Everything shifted after that.
More shows. Bigger venues. Studio time, and even interviews. The rush of something real, finally. You should’ve been thrilled. Part of you was. But the rest - the rest started to feel like a background player in a story you used to help write.
The label brought in producers. Real ones, with real opinions.
They listened to the demo, the song. Your song.
Then they tore it apart. “We need more drive.” / “Strip it down, rebuild it with a cleaner hook.” / “This bridge isn’t radio-friendly.”
Remus was quiet during the meetings. Didn’t fight them, not really. You tried. Brought up the emotion. The intimacy, claiming it was the point and tried to plead your case that the audiences back in their smaller gigs loved it.
One of the execs waved you off. “It’s got potential. But the personal angle - it doesn’t scale.”
You could see it on Remus’ face. The way his shoulders hunched in. The way he stopped meeting your eyes, and then the new version hit the speakers. Louder and way shinier. But hollow.
You didn’t say anything. Not then.
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Tour started two weeks later.
You were there at first. Helping with the logistics. Keeping things steady. But there were new people now - tour managers, stylists, publicists. The chaos turned professional. Your place among the crew grew uncertain. No one asked you to leave but no one asked you to stay, either.
Remus was always moving. Always being pulled to the next thing. Photoshoots, interviews, soundchecks.
He kissed you when he could. Touched your hand when he passed. But the quiet space you’d shared - those slow nights and whispered mornings - vanished under flashing lights and back-to-back obligations.
The night of the London gig, it all boiled over.
They played the reworked version. The crowd loved it. Cheered like mad. You stood in the wings, watching Remus smile, watching him hold the mic like he was born for it. And all you could think about was the first time he played it for you, nervous and raw and perfect.
Backstage was a blur of congratulations. Champagne flowed in celebration. Flashes from press cameras. Laughter was overlapping as the cheers and applause echoed in the background.
You waited until the others filtered out before catching him in the hallway, breathless and golden with adrenaline. “You didn’t even look at me during the set,” you said.
He blinked. “What?”
“The song. It used to be ours.”
His smile faded. “Don’t do this now.”
“Why not? Because we’re backstage at a real venue, and you’ve got an image to keep?”
“That’s not fair.”
“No? Because I fought for you. For all of this. I believed in that song when no one else did.”
He ran a hand through his hair, jaw tight. “And now it’s out there. Isn’t that what matters?”
You stared at him. “You didn’t write it to be out there. You wrote it for me.”
It was deafening silence after that. You could feel the cracks appear in the glass then, how the quiet settled between you to make you realize of the distance that had been there. He didn’t deny it, but he didn’t step closer either.
You nodded. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
You walked away before he could answer, and for the first time since this all began, he didn’t follow.
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Tour season continued with a vengeance. Venues booked back-to-back. Interviews, press junkets, photo ops. The Marauders were no longer the scrappy underdogs playing pub basements. They were headliners, and it was loud, so loud it drowned out everything else.
You made your choice before the second leg kicked off. You weren’t going to follow this time. Not because you didn’t care. But because somewhere along the line, you’d forgotten how to care for yourself.
You took the foundation you’d built - the networking, the hustle, the branding knowledge - and pivoted. Found work consulting for other rising acts. Wrote press copy, coached new managers, ran social strategy. You had your own projects now. Your own calendar. Your own name in someone else’s liner notes.
But some nights, you still kept tabs. You’d see grainy photos in tabloids. Headlines swirling with speculation.
Remus Lupin spotted leaving afterparty with model—sources say they’re close. 
Band tension? Lupin’s emotional ballad scrapped from upcoming single release.
You told yourself it didn’t matter. That you knew him better than some column in a glossy rag. Still, it stung. He never reached out. Neither did you, and the rift between is ever growing.
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You got the call on a Thursday, you had been buried deep in some paperwork for another small band you’d found playing at the pub where you used to watch the boys play. You answered without thinking much of it.
Sirius, voice clipped and shaken. "It’s Remus. He collapsed after soundcheck in Amsterdam. Exhaustion, they think. Maybe an infection. He’s asking for you."
You were on a plane within hours.
The hotel suite was quiet when you arrived. Dim. Sirius nodded at you in the hallway, eyes rimmed red. James gave you a tight hug. Peter, leaning in a chair near the wall,greeted you with a small smile, but murmured a low, “He’s down the hall.”
You found him in bed. Pale and almost flushed from the fever. The IV line taped to the inside of his elbow looked wrong. Out of place. You stood in the doorway for a long time before he opened his eyes.
"You came," he said, voice dry and cracking.
You sat beside him. “Of course I did.”
He stared at you, too tired to pretend. “I fucked everything up.”
You brushed sweaty hair off his forehead. “You ran too fast, too hard. Doesn’t mean it’s over.”
He closed his eyes. “It felt easier when you were around.”
That confession broke something between you, like a glass wall that you’d both build around each other. Too stubborn to bring it down and yet you can see each other through so clearly. Your hand stilled at his words.
“I needed space, Remus.”
“I know,” he whispered. “I just didn’t know how to keep going without making it worse.”
You watched him breathe. His breaths came in slowly and they were shallow.
“I read the articles,” you said finally.
He opened his eyes again. “They weren’t true.”
You nodded. “I figured.”
“I missed you,” he said. “Not just at gigs. All the time. In the quiet moments when I had no idea what the hell I was doing.”
“You didn’t call.”
“I didn’t think you’d want me to.”
The space between you was heavy. But not empty. He shifted, wincing as he reached for his bag beside the bed. From the front pocket, he pulled out an old, battered cassette. The label was peeling. Your handwriting still faintly visible.
“I kept it,” he said. “Even when they made me change it. I couldn’t throw this one away.”
He reached across to the small player on the side table, you watched him through his struggle knowing he wouldn’t want help. You swallowed thickly as he pressed play.
That same raw demo from all those nights ago filled the room. Slightly warped now with age. But still clear. Still beautiful.
Still yours.
You listened in silence, your eyes were glossy but tears didn’t actually form. When it ended, he looked at you.
“I never stopped meaning it,” he said.
You reached for his hand.
“I know.”
It didn’t fix everything. But it softened the break.
Sometimes, that’s the first step back.
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Post-tour life moved slower. The kind of quiet that felt almost foreign.
Remus came back to London two weeks after they all finished the last two remaining cities from the tour. You opted out of accompanying him, you still had work back home. You met him at the airport, holding a homemade sign that said Marauder Down: Emergency Recovery in Progress. He laughed, tired and soft, and leaned into you like he remembered how to breathe.
You weren’t together again. Not officially but you were… something. Enough to share Sunday mornings and late-night tea. Enough to talk without something heavy hanging in the air for the first time in months.
You sat on the floor of your flat one evening, records scattered around you both.
“I don’t know if I want all of it,” he said, finger fidgeting the sleeve of a Bowie LP. “The touring. The cameras. The curated answers.”
“You don’t have to take it all,” you said. “Just take the parts you want.”
He looked at you then, eyes clearer than you’d seen in ages. “And what if the part I want the most is sitting right in front of me?”
You didn’t answer. You just reached for his hand.
He started spending more time in the small spare room of your flat, hunched over a borrowed acoustic guitar. Said he was just noodling. Said it wasn’t important, but you heard the chords through the wall. The same gentle cadence. The same fragile beginnings.
You didn’t push.
Meanwhile, James invited you to dinner - just you. Which was odd enough to be suspicious. You and James were close as much as you were close with the other boys from the band but you were never out alone with just one of them.
Other than your thing with Remus, you were pretty much a whole group.
“They’re planning something,” he said between mouthfuls of curry. “The next album. It's going to be different.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Different how?”
“Less polish, more truth. Remus is writing again.”
You tried not to let your heart leap.
“But he’s hiding something,” James added. “He’s cagey. Won’t show anyone the arrangement he’s working on. Not even Sirius. That’s when I know it’s serious.”
You smiled, just a little. “I might have an idea.”
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The invitation to the televised performance came two months later. BBC special. A full set, plus an interview. Their first major appearance post-tour. By now they have about two to three songs in the top 10 charting and blasting on radio stations.
Remus was quiet the whole afternoon before. Not anxious, just… internal. Backstage was a blur. Techs running lines, makeup touch-ups, nerves buzzing like power lines.
Then it was lights, camera, cue. The band opened strong. A new track. A crowd-pleaser. Sirius was electric, James radiating joy. Peter was somewhat cool and poised. Remus… centered. Like he’d found something he thought was lost.
Then came the last song. He stepped up to the mic alone, guitar slung across his chest.
“This next one’s an old one,” he said, voice steady. “Most of you haven’t heard it like this. Not the way it was meant to be.”
The lights dimmed. Just a single spotlight on him, it felt like the world had slowed down as you heard those first few strum on the delicate guitar strings.
He played the original. Your song. Unchanged, untouched, like that first night he ever let you hear it. When it was quieter, when you were both unsure and the world wasn’t yet looking. 
You felt yourself choke up, hearing that song again like it was a promise being remembered. You couldn’t help the tears from flowing out of you. When the final chord faded, he let the silence sit.
“I wrote this before any of this,” he said, gesturing around the stage. “Back when we were barely getting gigs and figuring out who we were.”
You could almost throw up from the anticipation.
“And I never would’ve kept going if it weren’t for one person. Someone who believed in me when I didn’t. When I couldn’t. Everything I’ve become, everything this band has achieved - it started with her.”
The camera cut to you in the front row. You felt your heart stutter. Remus stepped forward.
“I used to think love had to be earned. That I had to prove I was worth the risk. But she never asked me to be anything other than myself. She just stayed. And helped me find the way back.”
He reached into his pocket, time that was slowing completely stopped. A ring, you could see the stone on it glisten from where the spotlight shining on Remus hit it.
“Come up here,” he said.
Your legs moved before your mind caught up. The stage felt impossibly bright. The crowd quieted. You could hear your pulse as some of the stage crew guided you up, their smiles so wide at you.
When you reached him, he took your hand.
“I don’t need the spotlight. I just need you. Always have.”
You blinked back the blur in your vision. “I’m not asking for perfect. Just for forever. Will you?”
You didn’t even let him finish. You kissed him first. The crowd erupted. It was almost uncharacteristic for someone as reserved as Remus to propose so publicly, but you could see the reason behind it.
He had spent some time too deep in his own head to truly appreciate you, what you meant to him and you both wasted time pretending like you mattered less to one another. With this big, grand declaration of his love, he will silence everything else.
All the doubt, all the whispers. He will close all the distance that had been in between.
Later, offstage, as the noise of the moment faded and the two of you curled into each other in the green room, he whispered: “I kept the song for you.”
You kissed his jaw. “I know.”
It was a beginning. A beautiful one, despite everything it took to get there. He had grown into this person that was no longer the Remus you first knew but you have changed as well, you both have.
Now the rest of your lives will be spent getting to know the new versions of yourselves.
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The venue buzzed with the final echoes of the crowd, lights slowly dimming as roadies hustled to pack up gear. You stood just behind the curtain, swaying slightly as the adrenaline of the set faded. Remus walked offstage, guitar still slung over his shoulder, shirt damp with sweat and a wild, boyish grin tugging at his mouth. His eyes found you immediately.
“There’s my girls,” he said, kissing your temple first, then brushing his lips over your daughter’s forehead. “How are my girls?”
He looks at your daughter, all curls and oversized headphones, sat on your hip - wide-eyed and sleepy. “Tired,” you answered with a soft laugh, shifting your daughter to your other hip. “But we loved the show.”
“Yeah?”
“Well, me more than her.”
Behind him, Sirius bounded over and swooped your daughter into his arms dramatically, practically stealing her from you. “There’s my favourite groupie!” he declared, spinning her gently while she squealed.
James wasn’t far behind, ruffling her hair and pulling a face that made her giggle again. “You know, I think we’re the reason she has such great taste in music,” he said to you with mock seriousness.
“You’re the reason she knows how to headbang,” you quipped back, rolling your eyes fondly.
Peter approached a moment later, slightly out of breath from the encore. “Hey,” he greeted you warmly. “Did you enjoy the show?”
“I always do.”
He smiled. “Wish you could keep touring with us.”
“I’d love to,” you said honestly, “but I’m not hauling a three-year-old from city to city every other week.”
Remus laughed and nodded, wrapping an arm around your waist. “She’s got a point. I miss having you out here every night, but this one needs a consistent bedtime.”
“She’s got better tour stamina than you did at twenty,” Peter joked, nudging Remus.
Remus mock-glared. “Yeah, well, she doesn’t drink whiskey like water.”
Your daughter yawned against Remus’ shoulder now, tiny arms curling around his neck. The chaos of the crew and lights blurred around the six of you, like white noise under a melody that only the band - your makeshift family - could hear.
end. masterlist
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captainlunaxmen · 11 months ago
Text
First Sight
Dark!Coriolanus Snow x Fem!reader
Here we are! Sorry for the wait, but I thought I had everything planned out and... I didn't, so I'm sorry I made you wait this long❤️❤️❤️
Let me know what you think, please, because this is my first time writing a dark fic, so feedback is highly encouraged in this case🙏🙏🙏
Summary: Y/n has been part of the Covey since she can remember, when her best friend Lucy Gray is chosen for the Hunger Games her world is threatened, she need to stay strong for her family. She's never been one to love attention. She never wants to draw too much anyway, gladly leaving the stage to her best friend, but she managed to catch someone's attention anyway. A young, ambitious man from the Capitol saw her for just a moment, but that was enough to make an obsession grow inside him.
Warnings: dark fic, obsession, harassment, smut, rape.
Tag list:
@7s3ven @wintersforest @tallulah477 @diannnnsss @that-one-person-blue @kemo19
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"Are you sure you want to wear that?" Y/n asks her best friend as they get ready to, yet, another reaping day.
"Of course." Lucy Gray answers, simply as ever, "at least I'll look pretty when they say my name."
"If." Y/n reminds her, "if they say your name."
"After all that mess with Billy Taupe? Mayfair will surely ask her daddy to pull some strings." Lucy Gray slightly scoffs.
"Maybe not..."
"You're too optimistic sometimes." She smiles at her friends, fixing the colourful skirt down.
"I just don't want to think about the worst." Y/n replies, tightening the belt on her own dress.
"Better get used to it."
They share a look, one filled with hope yet resignation too. They smile at each other and walk hand in hand out their home to get to the town square for the annual reaping.
--------------
They hold each other's hand until Lucy Gray's name is announced, and after a quick squeeze, she lets her friend's hand go to walk to the stage.
Y/n's breathing is heavy and frantic. She can't believe it, and when she notices Billy Taupe trying to talk to Lucy Gray, she has to contain herself from hitting him with a shoe... or two.
But her eyes are on her best friend walking up, and then she notices something in her hand. Y/n has to contain her laughter when Lucy Gray puts that something in Mayfair's dress. She can guess it was either a snake or a small lizard. Without much reaction to Mayfair's screams and the mayor's order to help his daughter Lucy Gray walk the stairs, but before she could get on, the mayor slaps her right in the face, making her fall Y/n's feet move on their own, she need to be blocked by a Peacekeeper to realise what was happening. She looks behind her to the rest of the Covey, scared and helpless. So the only thing that comes up to her mind is the only things that always help them all.
Music.
Y/n sings the first verse of one of their favourite songs, and when the other Covey follow Lucy Gray stands up and sings too.
She sends a sad smile to her family before walking away with Jessup and the Peacekeepers.
"Clear the square!" One of the Peacekeepers yells, and everyone starts to walk away to their own business.
"Let's go home." Y/n hugs Maude Ivory, and motion to the rest to follow her.
"Will we ever see her again?" CC asks.
"One thing about Lucy Gray is that she should never be underestimated." She replies, "So... she still hasn't sung her last song."
--------------
Coriolanus Snow is a collected man. Whatever happens to him, he tries his best not to show any reaction to it. But he almost can't help the gasp after he saw the girl from 12. He noticed how she wanted to reach her friend after the mayor slapped her.
Some people would dare say it's love at first sight, Coriolanus doesn't exactly know what to believe, he never felt like that before, he feels like all he could do all day is think of her, just that and it would be almost enough for him... only having her would satisfy him properly.
But he can't risk it... he can't risk his winning for someone he only saw for mere seconds.
He needs to keep his eyes on the real goal.
--------------
When he got home that day and talked to Tigris, he thought he left the girl in the back of her mind.
"I can't even imagine how her family must feel... that girl, did you see her?" Tigris asks, "her eyes when that man slapped Lucy Gray..."
"Yeah... she was ready to jump in and defend her." Coriolanus says casually, "she sang for her."
"I bet they sang a lot together... both of them got a beautiful voice." Tigris guesses, sadness evident in her voice.
"Beautiful indeed." Coriolanus whispers.
Now, his mind is back on her.
That nameless girl from 12. How did she manage to strike him like that? How she stepped out of line to reach her friend, how she sang for her. What was it?
"You okay, Coryo?" Tigris snaps him out of his thoughts.
"Who do you think she was?" He asks.
"Who?" Tigris is confused.
"That girl, the one who sang for Lucy Gray." He specifies.
"Oh... uhm.. I don't know. Her sister? Or maybe a friend, I don't know." She answers, still confused by her cousin's question. "Why do you want to know?"
"No reason." Coriolanus shakes his head, "Goodnight, Tigris."
Without waiting an answer he walks to his bedroom, gets ready for bed and lies on it with one thought in mind.
Surprisingly, not the Hunger Games.
No.
The nameless girl from 12.
--------------
Y/n helped Maude Ivory carry the small television their neighbours landed them so they could keep up with the games and, most importantly, Lucy Gray.
"Remember you have to babysit their babies this week, okay?" Y/n tells the young girl as they plug the television in.
"Of course, are you going to sell your bread?"
"Yes, I left some dough to rise this morning. By tonight, it'll be ready to bake." She assures her.
"Is it on?" CC comes in followed by Tam Amber.
"I think... if I do this." Y/n hits the box hard, and suddenly the screen turns on.
"Careful!" Maude Ivory shouts.
"He told me it needs it sometimes. It's okay." Y/n waves her off as the screen finally shows some movements, still no sound, but it's still something.
"Who is that?" CC asks, as a man appears on the screen wearing a high-collared suit and gelled hair, "is he a clown?"
"Could be..." Y/n sighs.
"Where is he?" Tam Amber asks, getting closer.
"No idea... there are bars behind him... I think..." Y/n tries to answer, but the scene is not clear yet, so she hits the television again.
"Y/n!"
"See? Now it's better." Y/n nonchalantly says, "seems like a cage... wait..."
"There's people inside." CC notices, "are those the tributes?"
"Oh god... probably."
"Can you see Lucy Gray?" Tam Amber asks.
"There... I think she's the only one wearing so much colour." Muade Ivory points at a point in the back.
"Yes, that's her... who's that with her?" Y/n moves closer to the screen, "he looks too cleaned up to be a tribute."
"No idea." CC says.
The host notices them too and apparently asks them to get closer.
Y/n looks more attentively at the guy, inspecting him now closer to the camera, it's clear he's not from the districts.
"Could it be someone from the Capitol?" The little one suggests.
"He could be... but why is he in there?" Y/n sighs, frustrated, "damn it, why can't we hear anything?"
"Y/n! I'm so sorry!" Barb yells from the kitchen.
Y/n is immediately on her feet running to her.
"What happ-" she starts but stops as soon as she see the bowl with the dough she prepared on the floor, "how?"
"I was cleaning and I accidentally hit it. I'm so sorry." Barb Azure explains, apologising again.
"It's..." Y/n lets out a puff of air, "it's okay, I can still save some. Don't worry."
"I'm really sorry."
"It's okay, really." She immediately pick up what she can from the floor, "I can save some. We'll just sell a little less than usual, tomorrow I'll make more."
"I'm..."
"Don't, it's okay, I promise. Go see Lucy Gray on TV, c'mon." She nudges the girl and kneel down to clean, " go."
Y/n watches Barb Azure disappear in the other room, takes a deep breath and goes back to work.
--------------
They managed with selling the bread, the milk, the occasional jewellery Y/n makes and the performance at the Hob to survive.
Y/n hasn't been sleeping well since Lucy Gray entered the Arena. She's glad Jessup and her managed to escape the toher tributes and found somewhere to hide. But Y/n can't help the anxiety devouring her everyday, she tries to ease the Covey, making them distracted with everything she could think of, but even singing and dancing isn't the same.
Y/n decided to forbid them from watching the games after Jill's, she thinks her name was, death and Reaper lined up the corpses of the others. She didn't want to risk them seeing Lucy Gray among them... she doesn't even know is she herself could.
But tonight Y/n feels like she needs to watch, she has to, for Lucy Gray, a way to be with her. She tries to spot her in the arena, and when the screen show Coral and Treech finding her in a air vent, Y/n stands immediately getting closer to the screen, and needs to hold in a scream when Coral manages to male her friend fall.
Out of her hiding space.
Back in the arena.
Suddenly a giant tank is lowered into the arena Y/n feels her breath stop. Nothing good could come out of there, nothing good comes from the Capitol.
The little girl from 8 get closer, thinking it's their signal they're going home, but unfortunately the tank breaks and thousands of colourful snakes creep out covering her small figure, most likely killing her.
They all run, run to a higher ground, the boy from 4 falls and the snakes caught up with him.
Lucy Gray and Coral run, while Reaper lets the snake take him.
Y/n holds her breath as she watches Coral say something to Lucy Gray, unfortunately they never managed to fix the sound so she can't hear them, but she can understand when Coral is dead, as the snakes tie themselves around her.
That leaves Lucy Gray the last one... she's won.
"What..."
Why aren't they letting her out? Usually they stop once there's only one left.
Lucy Gray keeps backing away from the snakes, and Y/n can see her mouth moving, she doesn't hear, but she can guess she's singing. Usually snakes there in 12 like music, maybe she's trying it with the Capitol's ones too.
When Lucy Gray's face points direct the camera it's clear ad the day that she's singing, with all the strength she has.
"Let her out." Y/n whispers.
Suddenly, the screen changes signaling that Lucy Gray indeed won the Hunger Games.
"Oh my god!" Y/n can't help but scream, she doesn't care if everyone is already asleep.
"What's going on?" Tam Amber walks in, sleepy face and all, followed by Maude Ivory.
"She won!" Y/n screams again.
"Lucy Gray won?!" Moude Ivory immediately runs to hug Y/n.
"She did it!"
"Does that mean she's coming home?" CC asks, he too arrived after hearing all the noise, Barb Azure too.
"I think so." Y/n nods, smiling like never before, a heavy burden is finally off her shoulders and she can let out a sigh of relief, "she's coming home."
--------------
"Your life has just begun." Sejanus tells him as they both travel to district 12, "you're gonna do great. We're both gonna do great."
"Just be careful, okay?" Coriolanus says to him, "it's a different world out here."
"Look at the bright side." He simply replies, and Coriolanus sends him a questioning look, "she might be there."
"Who are you talking about?"
"I heard you and Lucy Gray talking once." He starts, "you asked about the girl who sang for her at the reaping ceremony."
"I.." Coriolanus is caught off guard.
"You're lucky, Ma always told me stories when I was younger about love at first sight." He explains, "the way you ask more and more about her... you can't fool me." He lets out a small chuckle.
"And if she's not there?" Coriolanus asks.
"Why wouldn't she?"
"What if they killed Lucy Gray and she just doesn't want to have anything to do with me? How about that?" He challenges.
"They wouldn't. She was a hit, Coryo. There's no reason for them to kill her." Sejanus tells him, "so you know her name?"
Of course he does, it's the very first thing he asked Lucy Gray. He's been reciting her name since he learned it.
"Y/n." He smiles as he says it.
--------------
"You're singing with me tonight." Lucy Gray warns Y/n, as they gather the instruments they need for tonight's performance, the first since Lucy Gray got back.
"I am... so not doing it." Y/n replies, shaking her head.
"Why not?" She pouts.
"Because I... I'm not." Y/n simply answer, not meeting her eyes.
But Lucy Gray doesn't give up so easily, she tries to make eye contact with her friend, she knows she wouldn't resist.
"Give me a good reason." Lucy Gray challenges again.
"Because... The people want you." Y/n tells her, "you're better at singing than me."
"That's not true." Maude Ivory chimes in, "they loved you."
"Thank you..." Y/n says sarcastically, "I'm not doing it."
"Oh c'mon, I got back, think of it as a welcome back present!" Lucy Gray nudges her friend, "pleeeease."
"Nope, I was almost fainting the whole time I was on stage." Y/n shake her head once again, "not gonna happeen" she sings the last bit.
"You had to refuse me with that beautiful voice of yours too?" Lucy Gray accuses with a laugh.
"Yap." Y/n replies, "c'mon, we don't want tot be late."
"This is not the end." Lucy Gray warns her friend before taking her hand and then, with the rest of the Covey, head to the Hob.
--------------
Coriolanus couldn't contain himself, he can't wait to get out and find his girl.
She is his, he can't see it any other way.
They enter the Hob and Sejanus goes to get them a drink, while Coriolanus looks around, taking in the place, listening to the music.
His eyes find themselves on the stage, as a little girl goes to the mic.
"Is it hot in here?"
They must be the Covey Lucy Gray talked so much about, but he still can't spot Y/n. Where could she be?
The audience cheers loudly
"'Cause we're planning on heating it up a set more!" The girl screams, "the one, the only, Lucy Gray Baird!"
Coriolanus' ears perk up at her name, maybe his girl is with her.
Lucy Gray enters the stage, spinning with her guitar in hand, smiling as brightly as ever.
"Oh hey district 12, did you miss me?" She asks the audience, that immediately replies with a loud "Yes!"
"I bet you never expected to lay eyes on me again. And let me tell you, that goes both ways, but I am back. " She cheers, "I sure am back. Oh is that bottle there for me?" She asks pointing at a bottle of alcohol someone's holding up, " oh c'mon y'all, you know I gave up drinking when I was 12," she fakes complain and takes a sip, "just to clear my pipes, just to clear my pipes! Now, how about a song, uh?" Everyone cheers, happy, "but, I can't, you know." The audience lets out confused and discontent noises, Lucy Gray glances slightly at the side of the stage, in the dark Coriolanus can't see anything, "it's been a while and I don't feel like singing alone tonight. But I'm afraid, my sweet best friend, won't do me the favour... how about you help me convince her?"
The audience immediately burst into a wave of cheers and applauses.
"Do you want her?"
The cheering gets louder.
"Y/n!" Lucy Gray yells, "c'mon out, babes!"
"Y/n. Y/n. Y/n!" The audience chants.
And at last, she walks on the stage, glaring at her friend playfully.
Coriolanus heart skips a beat as he watch her walking to her friend, he never thought he could get more enamoured with her, but here she is, and he can't seem to take his eyes off her. The way she takes the guitar Lucy Gray offers her, the way she timidly smiles at the audience, once again glaring at her friend for putting her in this position.
"See? They love you!" Lucy Gray points at the audience, "now, let's show them how it's done!"
Lucy Gray nudges her friend with her hip as Y/n starts to play the guitar.
Coriolanus eyes are solely on her, and she isn't even aware of it, he can afford admiring her a little more before making her his.
--------------
Lucy Gray is the happiest since she managed to have Y/n sing and dance with her, but the moment he notices a familiar pair of eyes he freezes for an instant.
Coriolanus Snow is here in 12, and he's looking, no... he's staring at her friend.
She notices his weird interest in Y/n from the many unusual questions he made when they were talking. She didn't like how he was talking and asking about her friend like that, like he thought she was his already. She always dismissed it as a stupid sensation, maybe it's exactly that, just her sensation. He might like her, but nothing bad... not necessarily. She doesn't want to think bad of it.
Of course she told the Covey about everything that happened in the Capitol, she just didn't mention this particular thing, to protect her.
She take advantage of an instrumental break to tell Y/n.
"He's here." She says.
"Who?" Y/n asks, looking at the crowd, locking eyes with a blonde man.
"My mentor, the one I talked to you about." Lucy Gray answers.
"Is he blonde?" Y/n asks and Lucy Gray nods,"Why is he here?"
"No idea."
Y/n simply shrugs and keeps play while Lucy Gray sings, unfortunately their performance is cut short by Billy Taupe intervention.
"Fuck..." Y/n sighs, keeping playing, "it's not the first time he acts like that."
"I know you miss me, Lucy Gray." Billy Taupe drunkenly says getting closer to the stage, followed by Mayfair trying to stop him.
"You said you wouldn't play with them anymore." She complains.
Lucy Gray looks at the Covey rolling her eyes, Y/n rolls her own in agreement.
Suddenly Billy Taupe almost jumps on stage grabbing Lucy Gray's skirt.
"Don't touch me! After what you did, don't touch me." Lucy Gray orders him, kicking her foot to let him go of her skirt
"Y/n... Please, you're kind, you know you're all not the same without me." He moves to take Y/n's skirt now, "c'mon, make her see reason."
"Let go." Y/n tells him, she moves backwards but his grip makes her stumble and falls to the ground. Lucy Gray kneels to help her pull her skirt back.
A second later Billy Taupe is thrown to the side, making him lose his grip. The two girls look at the direction he was thrown, and they see that blonde man hitting him hard until another recruit stops him and takes him outside.
"Are you okay?" Lucy Gray asks, helping her friend to stand up.
"Yeah, yeah, all good." Y/n nods, "again, not the first time he acts like that."
"God.. I'm sorry.." the brunette says softly, picking up the guitar.
"Not your fault. Only his." She sighs, "I'm kinda glad your mentor was here, he was the only one to help."
" yeah, glad..."
"Is everything okay?" Y/n worries.
"Yeah, it's just weird seeing him here." Lucy Gray dismisses the question easily, "let's go home, c'mon"
"Okay.." Y/n isn't convinced, but decides to let it go for now, "c'mon ladies and gentlemen, let's get home."
"Wanna go practice some songs on the meadow, tomorrow?" Lucy Gray asks as they walk back home.
"I missed it so much, so of course!" Y/n cheerfully replies, earning a just as excited laugh from her friend.
--------------
Lucy Gray and Y/n played all afternoon in the meadow, like old times. It wasn't that long Lucy Gray stayed in the Capitol, but not knowing if she were to come back at all made it feel so much longer.
"I think this part should be a little slower, what do you think?" Y/n would ask after a while of playing 'The Hanging Tree'.
"This last part of the verse, you mean?" Lucy Gray checks, looking at the music sheets.
"Yeah, I think..."
Their heads snap behind them when they hear footsteps nearing.
"Sorry... we..." the same blonde man from the night before speaks, along a dark haired man, "they say we would find you out here."
"You're here... with that uniform.." Lucy Gray nervously chuckles.
"I thought they killed you." He simply says.
"Killed?" Y/n can't help the question.
"He... uhm.." his friend starts.
"I broke the rule to save her life." He answers, faking humbleness.
"The dean... Highbottom, got me on a train and gave me some money. He said you were sent to 8." Lucy Gray is quite confused.
"Change of plans." He would smile, "I'm Coriolanus Snow, by the way." He moves closer extending his hand for Y/n to take.
"She's Y/n, my best friend I told you about." Lucy Gray introduces her.
"Hi.." she shyly greets, taking his hand. She can't help the surprised "Oh..." When he, instead of shaking her hand, kisses the back of it.
"Nice to properly meet you, she talked a lot about you." Coriolanus charmingly smiles, "this is my friend, Sejanus."
"Nice to meet you," Lucy Gray shakes his hand with a bright smile.
"Nice to meet... you... too." Sejanus greets back with a sweet and kind smile.
They look at each other for a moment, just smiling. Y/n never saw he friend smiling like this with someone, she is so focused on her friend that she didn't notice Coriolanus still holding her hand, still looking at her.
"Oh sorry." Y/n finally takes notice of his hand and takes her own back, missing the pout forming on Coriolanus' face.
"All good." He whispers, "we quite enjoy the show yesterday."
"Oh.. yeah, yeah, yeah, it was great... until that guy came in." Sejanus agrees, nervously looking at Lucy Gray.
"Yeah, Billy Taupe can't accept the fact that we manage without him." She replies, smugly.
"Well, he's lucky you got back" Y/n mutters, "thanks, by the way, for getting him off and... also, of course, for saving Lucy Gray." She looks up at Coriolanus.
"A pleasure, really. There's no need to thank me." He replies, hitching to hold her hand again, to hold her to him and never let go, "anything for you."
At that Y/n takes a small step back, feeling a little nervous under his stare.
"We're going to the lake, tomorrow. Do you guys want to join?" Lucy Gray suddenly asks, surprising her best friend.
"Really?" Sejanus checks in, looking at the girls, "we'd like to."
"Of course, a way of thanking you." She assures him, "we usually go and have a sort of picnic."
"We'll look forward to it." Coriolanus too agrees.
"Yeah, it would be nice." Y/n wraps her arms around herself, to shield herself from his eyes.
"She makes an amazing apple cobbler too, the young ones loves it." The brunette praise her best friend, locking their arms together.
"You cook too?" Coriolanus is surprised, pleased, "you didn't tell me."
"She can do a lot of things, a real walking talent." Lucy Gray smiles proudly at her friend, nudging her side. Y/n's cheeks warm up at the compliments, turning her head to look away from them all.
"Always so shy, aren't you?" Coriolanus softly comments.
"She's never been the best with compliments." Lucy Gray softly chuckles, squeezing her friend's arm, "but she deserves them all."
"I'm sure she does." His soft stare makes Y/n shiver, she doesn't know why but she's intimidated by it.
"Uh..." she would start, but her eyes catch something behind the two men, "Maude Ivory." Lucy Gray follows her eyes to the little girl.
"You're friends peacekeepers." She says.
"They must be here for the fight." Y/n guesses, "I'll go handle it."
"I'm coming with you."
"Get the guitar, then." She instructs and Lucy Gray grabs the guitar.
"Hey.. we can't be seen with you, though." Coriolanus quietly tells them.
"That lake is in the woods, no one knows much about it but us, don't worry." Lucy Gray reassures him.
"That's comforting." Sejanus smiles grateful at her and she returns it.
"See you tomorrow then." Coriolanus says looking at Y/n who simply evades his stare, she politely smiles, but that doesn't stop Coriolanus from dreaming about her that night. How right their hands felt together, how beautiful she is so close... he can't wait for the next day.
He feels somehow grateful for Sejanus presence, he's sure Lucy Gray invited them both because she's interested in him. He remembers the little glances she would send his classmate at the Capitol. He will use it to his advantage, he knows how much Sejanus would love to help him get the girl of his dreams, he just needs a little push.
--------------
Y/n is making a new dough for the next day, while they're at the lake it will have time to raise. She's mostly making it to get her mind busy, to sort of preparing herself for the day at the lake with the two peacekeepers.
"Are you okay?" Lucy Gray cautiously asks, walking next to her.
"Whatever do you mean?" Y/n asks back, not glancing once at her friend.
"Mh... you're using that tone, for one." Lucy Gray nudges her, "and... you're kneading that dough as if you're chocking it. I'm pretty sure it's dead."
Y/n doesn't answer right away, she keeps kneading the dough, when she puts it in a bowl she turns to her friend.
"I'm okay." She finally says.
"Something bothering you." The singer gently takes her hand, guiding Y/n to sit with her at the table.
"Are the others sleeping?" Y/n asks, wiping her hands on a towel.
"Yeah, now tell me what's wrong." She softly urges her, "is it about tomorrow? Are you nervous or something?"
"I guess..."
"Why?" Lucy Gray asks, "do you fancy my mentor?" She tries to joke and teases her.
"No." She quickly answers, "no, really, I... it's like there's something off about him... I don't know, maybe it's just me."
Y/n lets out a heavy sigh and looks at Lucy Gray, who looks conflicted herself.
"I... uhm.." she starts, uncertain.
"What..?"
"I felt the same way when I met him... he would ask so many question about you, our life here you know, I could see he wanted to know more and more about you." She explains.
"Me? Why?" Y/n gets even more nervous.
"I think he saw you at the reaping ceremony, when you sang and... I don't know, you caught his attention."
"Oh..."
"We can cancel... or you can stay in, I don't want you to feel forced to go because I didn't think." Lucy Gray takes her hands again, reassuringly.
"No, it's okay... I mean maybe we're just looking too much into it..." Y/n shakes her head, "I kind of want to see if you and the other one move to the next step."
"You noticed.." she blushes slightly.
"You two where smiling at each other like crazy." Y/n smiles sweetly at her friend.
"He's sweet, I saw how he wanted to help the tributes during the games... but please, we don't have to go if you're uncomfortable." She checks.
"I'm fine, I promise." Y/n kisses her hands to assure her, "maybe it's just a misunderstanding. It'll be fine."
"Oh now you're comforting me?" Lucy Gray teases.
"Obviously." She smiles proudly, "how about you... how are you coping with... with the games?"
Lucy Gray's smile drops slightly, looking down at their hands, squeezing them a little tighter, scared she would be taken away again.
"I'm okay... sometimes I feel like I'm still there." Her eyes fill with tears at the memories, "I killed people, Y/n... I..."
"You can't just shake it off, right?" Y/n guesses and Lucy Gray nods without saying a word, "I won't say that I'll understand, I will try sure, I can't promise I will be able to of course, but... I'm with you, Lucy Gray, you're not alone, I won't let you deal with it alone."
Lucy Gray stands, and so does Y/n, she brings her into a warm hug. They hold each other like never before, they hugged in the past sure, but nothing like this. This hug is filled with comfort and safety, something they both need, they don't even want it to end in fear one of them could be taken away again.
"We should get some sleep." Y/n states with a chuckle, but doesn't break the hug.
"Yeah." Lucy Gray laughs, "I think we should." They pull apart, "Sorry, I really needed that."
"So did I."
With that little comfort from each other they can finally go to bed and get some sleep. Even though, Y/n can't really fall asleep so quickly, her mind constantly going to Coriolanus Snow and his eyes, his stare on her. Could it be possible that they're just imagining it or it's true?
She close her eyes for a second and the moment she opens them the first light of day greets her, making her groan.
"Fuck." She mutters out, uncovering herself and getting seated, not so ready to start the day.
"Morning." Lucy Gray's harsh morning voice greets Y/n in the kitchen as she prepares the basket for the picnic, "Did you get some sleep?"
"I did, do not worry." Y/n replies, "just... uh..."
"What?"
"Don't leave me alone with him, okay?"
Once Lucy Gray nods, Y/n gets back at the basket.
--------------
"This time of the year the water is just perfect." Maude Ivory excitedly jumps towards the lake.
"She loves the lake, if you can't tell." Y/n jokes.
"I wouldn't blame her," Sejanus says, "I'll trust her judgement, then."
"You should!" The little girl tells him, loud.
"Are you sure you don't need help?" Coriolanus offers to carry the basket for the tenth time, "I promise it's no trouble."
"And I promise it's fine, thank you." Y/n, once again, denies his help.
Coriolanus can't help the clenching in his jaw, his girl should never, ever, lift a finger. He'll make sure of it.
"We're almost there, anyway. No worries." She tries to chuckle and assure him.
"She's strong." Lucy Gray chimes in, "she never lets me do any heavy work around the house. It's crazy."
"No, well, that's because you're not the best at them." Y/n teases her.
"That's not true!" Lucy Gray laughs, "I got many talents."
"You do... not for handwork."
Lucy Gray gasps, faking offence, while the rest of the group laugh.
"How long have you been friends for?" Sejanus asks, "if I'm not intruding."
"We're basically sisters," Lucy Gray immediately answers, proudly, "our parents died and we got raised by the same person."
"I arrived after them, but everything fell into places so naturally, it felt like I found my family again." Y/n explains, with a big smile.
"Never left each other's side ever since." Lucy Gray takes her best friend's hand as they finally arrive at destination.
"We're here!" CC exclaims and Maude Ivory rushes to get into the water as soon as possible, making Y/n chuckle.
Coriolanus watches her closely, the way she worries about her family, the way she smiles, laughs and shines when she looks at the young ones. The more time he's in her presence, the more he falls in love with her, his desire to make her his growing each moment. His girl, his wife and, one day soon, his first Lady.
--------------
A day at the lake with her family is something Y/n always treasured, and will always treasure. She usually takes a few minutes to herself to enjoy the water, just floating with her eyes closed, she loves how free the stream lets her be.
The Covey always lets her live her peace... at least until it's time to eat, in that moment they would splash her until she gets to shore, earning, everytime, a glare from the poor girl.
And today should be no different, Y/n and Lucy Gray agreed not to make the others suspect their new friend makes them feel a little uneasy. So as Y/n floats on her own, Lucy Gray will try and keep an eye out to let her alone with her former mentor.
"What's she doing?" Coriolanus asks.
"Oh she likes to feel the water on her own." Lucy Gray explains, while Sejanus play with Maude Ivory, "to enjoy the moment."
"Wouldn't she be carried away by the stream?" He wonders.
"Nah, it's like the water knows where she should be."
"That's beautiful, Lucy Gray." Sejanus comments.
"Not my words." She is quick to specify, "hers."
Coriolanus spent the rest of the bath watching her, purposely ignoring his former tribute's stare. She probably wants to protect her friend, he thinks, but he's the only one who can protect her. And that he will.
"I'm starving!" Maude Ivory exclaims getting out the water towards the picnic blanket, "c'mon!"
Almost in an instant the rest of the Covey follows, apart from Lucy Gray who stays with Sejanus and Coriolanus, and Y/n floating not far.
Coriolanus shots his friend a look to tell him to get Lucy Gray away so he could have some time alone with his girl.
"I..." Sejanus stutters out, "I... I brought something. I know you two cooked for us too, so I wanted to bring something as a thanks... for the invite."
"Aaww but that's very sweet of you. You didn't need to." Lucy Gray almost melts at his words.
"I can show you. I mean they're preparing to eat so might as well help them." Sejanus suggests.
"Oh... uh... I mean..." she is hesitant, looking briefly at Coriolanus and at her friend.
"Coriolanus is here to look out for her, don't worry." Sejanus reassures her, but he doesn't know that his friend is the reason she needs to keep an eye out for Y/n.
Unfortunately, she knows she can't refuse, not without raising questions from her family nor suspects from the two peacekeepers.
"Yeah... Okay." She finally says, "but I mean, you don't have to, she's always does that. You can come with us."
"I don't mind." He's quick to reply, "I too enjoy the waters myself."
"See? No troubles at all." Sejanus smiles at her.
"We will call you soon, anyway." Lucy Gray tells him, she means it as a warning, even though Coriolanus doesn't register it that way.
"We'll be here." He smiles charmingly as always as he looks at the two climbing on the wooden deck and towards the Covey. She still watches over her friend.
As Coriolanus finally can enjoy the view he can notice her floating gently towards him.
'The water knows where she should be' Lucy Gray said, and the water is bringing her to him.
Y/n felt something touching her hand slightly, startling her.
"Oh sorry." She starts to apologise, but freezes when she sees Coriolanus in front of her.
"No need to apologise." He softly says.
"Where's everyone?" She asks.
"Preparing for the picnic." He tells her, secretly enjoy how her eyes don't meet his.
"Oh... I guess.. uh... I guess we should join them, then." She nervously chuckles, wanting more and more to not be alone with the Peacekeeper.
"Did you enjoy the water?" He asks, ignoring her suggestion.
"I... I did." She answers, "I love days like this."
With each word she slowly swims to the deck.
"I've never done this, you know." He says swimming closer.
"You don't have lakes at the Capitol?" She chuckles, again to hid her nerves.
"There's no room for nature." He simply says.
"Oh... that's... sad." She comments, feeling genuinely sad about that, "hope you're having a good day then, Mr Snow."
"Please, Coriolanus is more than fine, or Coryo... if you like." He tells her with a charming smile, internally begging her to say his name.
"Well, I hope you're having a good day, then, C-Coryo." She forces herself to smile, slightly letting out a sigh of relief when she realises she got to the wooden deck.
"The best in a long time." He catch up with her, ready to chivalrously help her climb up.
Y/n tries to be as quick as she can, but in doing so her foot slipped and she falls back into the water... in Coriolanus' arms.
"Shit..." she curses under her breath.
"You okay?" Coriolanus immediately asks, concerned.
"Yeah, yeah, sorry, I... I slipped." She tries to subtly wiggle out of his arms. While what Coriolanus wants more is to hold her even closer. "We should... uhm... get to the picnic or.. or they w-will eat everything."
"Yeah..." Coriolanus eyes constantly switch from her eyes to her lips, "probably."
He doesn't move an inch though, his eyes keeping the same route, but moving his face closer to hers.
Y/n is cornered, she wants to freak out, but he's still a Peacekeeper, who knows what he could do if she rejected him badly.
"Uhm..." she tries to come up with something to say to get out of the situation.
He's living his dream, in the meantime, he's so close to kissing his girl for the first time he wants to enjoy every second of it. His hands find their way to her waist, caressing it.
Y/n shakes, she wants to run, hit him and run away. Coriolanus interprets the shaking as shyness, he's sure she feels the same, he thinks her shaking is only in anticipation of the kiss.
So he leans closer... and closer...
"Guys!" Lucy Gray's voice saves her, "it's all set!"
"We're coming!" Y/n shouts back immediately, turning away from Coriolanus as she feels his grasp tightening slightly.
Y/n manages to climb back up and misses the frustrated clenching in Coriolanus' jaw.
--------------
They sit on the blankets they brought as they eat, Y/n managed to take a seat in between CC and Maude Ivory, away from the peacekeeper. Lucy Gray, on the other hand, sits next to Sejanus which earned a teasing smile from her friend, Coriolanus sits next to him as they everyone eats.
"You weren't lying, this is amazing." Sejanus exclaims, mouth full of Y/n's dessert.
"You're being too kind now." Y/n can only shy away from the compliment.
"Told you, she's always underestimate herself." Lucy Gray low-kye scold her friend.
"True!" CC agrees, earning a glare from Y/n.
"It really is amazing." Coriolanus chimes in, "where did you learn?"
"Oh... well, when you have to feed all these mouths, that's what you have to do." Y/n explains, "and there were times where one didn't want to eat, when they were younger and didn't fully understand the situation, so I tried my best in making something tasty with what we had."
"Well, I didn't learn." Lucy Gray tries to highlight her friend's talent.
"That's because you were earning money with your guitar and performances." Y/n replies.
"Even that, not without your help." The singer insists.
"Mine?" Y/n laughs, "what help? You're the one singing beautifully everyday."
Coriolanus assist this playful banter and can't help the jealousy raising in him. He wants Y/n to joke with him like that, not with Lucy Gray. He wants to make her blush with compliments, not Sejanus.
"But you write the songs!" Lucy Gray exclaims, with a big smile.
"Not all of them!" Y/n laughs.
"The most beautiful ones, yes." Lucy Gray shots back.
"Oh shut up!" Y/n throws her friend a piece of bread.
"Did we hear any of these songs?" Coriolanus asks, curious.
"I think so," Lucy Gray answers, "plus the one I sang in the arena it's hers."
"Which one?"
"You didn't watch the games?" Sejanus asks.
"No, I did, I did, it's just that the TV we borrowed was a little broken so we couldn't hear anything." She answers.
"Pity..." Sejanus comments, "she sang beautifully."
"Not a surprise." Y/n smiles, "so, what song was it?"
"The old Therebefore." Lucy Gray tells her, "you know it always gives me strength."
"That was yours?" Coriolanus asks, positively surprised.
"Uh.. yeah, though, I simply rearranged an old melody." Y/n explains, shaking her head dismissively.
"Told you, walking talent." Lucy Gray grins and Y/n throws another piece of bread at her.
Coriolanus is amazed, she will be a perfect first Lady, the people of Panem will love her. He's more and more realising what a perfect choice she will be.
Y/n rolls her eyes, giving up, earning a triumphant smile from Lucy Gray.
"It made all people in the auditorium cry." Coriolanus tells them, "a real moving moment."
"At least I would've gotten one last good performance before my demise." Lucy Gray says dramatically.
"Don't say that." Y/n immediately stops her, "you're here. That's all that matters."
They reach out at the same time to hold each other's hand, Sejanus looks at them with sweet eyes, Coriolanus only feels jealousy, eyes shooting daggers at Lucy Gray.
Unfortunately the things between Sejanus and Lucy Gray have been going strong. She is so in love, Y/n's never seen her so taken by someone like she is by Sejanus. The down side of her happiness is that the peacekeeper always brings his friend around. Coriolanus, in fact, insisted and convinced Sejanus to bring him everytime he visited Lucy Gray, and Sejanus, being the good friend he is, he was glad to help his best friend. They even managed to leave Coriolanus and Y/n alone, Lucy Gray too distracted by Sejanus to notice the deception. Y/n doesn't want her to notice anyway, she's happy her friend found someone she actually like, so she's going to endure a little longer for her, Lucy Gray deserves some happiness after all the horrors she saw.
That's why Y/n's now cooking in their kitchen, with Coriolanus watching her like a hawk.
"What are you making exactly?" He asks from his spot by the small table.
"It's... a apple c-cobbler." Y/n softly answers. He would listen to her soft voice all day if he could, saying his name, begging him.
"Do you need any help?" He offers, "you know I don't mind."
She hears him standing up and walking closer to her.
"It's okay, you don't ha-" she stops mid-sentence, Coriolanus' hands softly caressing her hips froze her.
"I don't mind." He whispers into her ear, thumb striking the clothed spot.
"No... uh... i-it's o-okay... uh..." she stutters, looking around for a way to get away.
"Or maybe... " he spins her around so he's looking directly into her eyes, "we can adress... this." He motions between them, getting even closer, bodies now against one another.
"Uh..?" Y/n is confused.
"Us." Coriolanus specifies, "I don't think we can ignore it any longer."
"Uh... I don't... know..." she's at loss for words, "what..?"
"I'm pretty sure, my interest is pretty obvious." He says this almost shyly, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek, "and... I think yours is too."
"My... interest?"She shakes her head, putting her hands on his arms to try and push him off, "Coriolanus..."
"I love it when you use my name, Y/n." Coriolanus says, leaning closer, ignoring how she avoids his eyes and pushes him away.
"Just..."
"Y/n!!"
"Shit.." he mutters under his breath.
"Where are you?" Lucy Gray asks.
"In the kitchen." Y/n answers, relieved Coriolanus stepped back.
"There you are." She enters the kitchen and immediately hugs her friend, Sejanus close behind her.
"Hi." He timidly says, then notices Coriolanus by the table, "hey Coryo, didn't expect to see tou here today."
There's tension between them, Lucy Gray turns her head to look at the blonde and her face drops.
"Is everything okay, Lucy Gray?" Y/n puts a hand on her friend's shoulder, reassuringly.
"Yeah, of course." She shakes her head and smiles brightly again, "what are you making?" She changes subject.
"Uh... apple cobbler." Y/n says softly.
"Mmmhh can't wait." She hums.
There's something off about this situation, since last night's performance at the Hob all three of them have been behaving weirdly. Lucy Gray was singing and after the song she went after Sejanus and Coriolanus, she was goon for some time and when she got back something in her eyes was off. She tried to wave it off, but Y/n knew her friend and she was sure something happened. Why Lucy Gray didn't want to talk to her only added to her worries.
Unfortunately the worst was yet to come.
--------------
"What do you mean you have to leave?" Y/n asks, getting more and more agitated.
"Mayfair and Billy Taupe are dead, who do you think will be blamed?" Lucy Gray snaps back as she keeps packing a small bag.
"But you didn't! How could they prove otherwise?" Y/n insists, breathing heavily.
"The mayor will surely find a way." Her friend days bitterly, then turn to look at her in the eyes, "listen, I'll be fine. This is the only way."
"How will you go, uh?" Y/n challenges, "alone in the woods."
"I... Coriolanus said he would help." Lucy Gray answers, emotionless.
"Coriolanus?!" Y/n whisper-shouts, "do you trust him?"
"I don't have much of a choice. I told you what happened, he's involved too. That has to do." The brunette sighs deeply, "you all can join me in time. I wish you could come too now, but-"
"It will draw too much attention and we would be too easy to find." Y/n finishes her sentence, "I know... but Snow?"
"I told you, he's involved too... he's the only option. Plus... I don't have anything to keep me here anymore.."
Y/n sighs, giving up, she knows Lucy Gray is still grieving Sejanus. She walks to her friend, stopping her to hug her. Lucy Gray returns the hug immediately, crying on her friend's shoulder. Y/n, then, holds her tighter, stroking her back reassuringly.
"We'll be okay. And we will join you soon." Y/n whispers. "I promise."
--------------
It's been almost a year since Lucy Gray ran away, a year since Y/n saw her friend. She hopes Lucy Gray is fine, moat importantly she hopes her friend is alive. It was hard to explain the situation to the rest of the Covey, especially the youngest one, but she managed.
A good thing about this situation is that it's also been a year since Coriolanus Snow has been seen in district 12. Rumours has it he got back to the Capitol, Y/n wishes, whatever is the truth, that he stays as far away as possible. One of their last interactions scared her so much she hardly left the house in fear of simply seeing him.
Y/n is walking back home with her basket in hand, she sold all the jewellery and cakes she made to earn some money so she was quite content as she enters the house.
"Is anyone home?" Y/n yells as she puts down the basket and takes off her patched-up coat.
"In here." A voice calls from the kitchen and Y/n is quick to walk there, freezing on the spot when the figure of Coriolanus Snow stands in her kitchen. His hair grew in this time apparently, the new haircut makes him look even more dangerous, "Hi, my love."
"Uh..." Y/n doesn't know what to do, having him in the house after all this time feels worse than a robe around her neck, "what... what are you doing here?"
"You don't seem happy." Coriolanus states, confused.
He spent a year thinking about Y/n, working hard and constantly so he could come back to 12 and take her to the Capitol. He's been thinking about her, analysing each of their interactions to the bone. And he realised something: Y/n is yet to realise the love they're destined to share, but Coriolanus is more than willing to help.
"I... I'm confused... why... why are you here? Is Lucy Gray-"
"I don't want to talk about Lucy Gray!" He snaps.
Y/n flinches and takes a step back, he sighs deeply and pass a hand through his hair.
"I'm... I'm sorry..." she apologises, not wanting to anger him more, "you... uh... you let your hair grow..."
That seems to please him, he slightly smiles, pride growing in him.
"Yeah," he walks closer to her, "I wanted to leave the Peacekeeper behind, to welcome the future president of Panem."
"Future president..." she gasps out, slowly retreating backwards, "wow.."
"You're even more beautiful than I remembered." He brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, "I missed you."
"Why are you here?" She asks, pushing his hand away.
"I'm here to take you to the Capitol with me." He simply answers, as a matter of fact.
"What?!" She exclaims, pushing him off and putting distance between them.
"You're coming home with me." He states.
"I am home." She firmly says, noticing the clench in his jaw.
"No." He shakes his head, "no, you're not."
"I'm not coming with you." She insists, "I have people to take care of."
"They will be taken care of, if you come with me." He makes sure to emphasise the 'if'.
Y/n now realises no one else's home.
"If? Coriolanus, listen-"
"No, you listen." He interrupts her once again, "there's no thinking to do here. You're coming with me, period. You come with me and your family will be cared for, if you don't... there would be consequences."
"Is that a threat?" She shakes in fear now.
"It's a promise, my love." He gets closer again, putting a hand on her cheek, "so... what do you say now?"
"You already decided... what's the point of asking, then?" She's tearing up, too scared to move.
"Say you'll come with me." He leans closer, brushing his lips against hers, "say it."
She shakes her head, lips sealed.
But Coriolanus doesn't waste any more time, he kisses her, she backs away but he chases her until her back hits the wall forcing their lips together once again.
He kisses her, but she doesn't kiss him back, the hand on her cheek moves to her neck squeezing, as a warning. She tries to push him off, but he is stronger than her, his other hand moves to her hips pulling her closer and she starts to actually struggle.
"S-stop." She manages to stutter out.
"Give into me, my love." He mutters against her skin, kissing down her neck, "come with me, you'll want for nothing more in your life."
"No..." she weakly says, as she keeps pushing him off.
"Yes." He kisses her again, completely leaning his body against her, caging her.
"Please don't... Please." Her crying only turns him on more, he thrusts his hips against her making her feel his hard-on.
Y/n stops her movement, dread in her veins prevents her from doing anything.
"Sshh, let me take care of you." He whispers into her ear, "let me show you how good I can make you feel."
"Please... no..." her breathing gets heavier and heavier as she looks at him kneeling in front of her, "Don't."
She looks at the door, wanting to flee and leave him behind.
"Don't you dare." Coriolanus orders, looking up at her, "you try to run and I'll make sure your family pays. Am I clear, my love?"
Y/n averts her eyes from the door, to the former peacekeeper kneeling in front of her.
The hunger in his eyes is enough to make her feel like a prey being caught.
He keeps looking at her as he lifts her dress up her legs, and when he pulls her underwear down he finally break the eye contact to take a proper look at his prize.
He licks his lips and gets closer to her core, inhaling her scent.
"Stop... please Coriolanus, stop." She tries again, but her plead falls to deaf ears.
Coriolanus at hearing his name coming from her he dives himself between her legs, licking and sucking all he could, finally enjoy whatever he's been dreaming about all this time... since that reaping ceremony.
Y/n gasps when he attacks her pussy with his mouth like a starved man, she looks around hoping to find something to use as a weapon or a way to escape this. She puts her hand on his head in an attempt to push him off, but it's no use, his hold is way too tight and strong for her to pull away.
"Mmhhh" he humms against her, her taste inebriates him completely.
"Shit.." she groans, her body betraying her, getting closer and closer, "shit."
Hearing this Coriolanus only doubles his efforts, he blindly grabs one of her hands and moves it to rest on his cheek.
"Mmhhh yes." He humms again, licking harder on her clit.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She tries to hold back, but it's like she has no control over her body anymore as she comes on his mouth. Her legs weakening and falling to the ground, right in front Coriolanus, face to face.
"I love you." He whispers, catching her off guard by kissing her deeply and forcefully.
She puts her hands against him, never stopping her attempts.
"Stop, stop." She mutters.
"This is just a taste of how I'm going to take care of you." He explains breathlessly, "I'm never letting you go, my love."
They stay still for a moment, Y/n too scared to move and Coriolanus is simply enjoying the moment.
He finally got his girl, but he's always being certain of it, after all it's in his family.
Snow lands on top.
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lilolilyr · 6 months ago
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~ Lilo's 2024 Star Wars recs ~ (another Ao3 year in review)
This is specifically the star wars edition of my reader year in review, the rest & more info can be found here!
Descriptions/summaries by me, click the links for the ones from the authors.
The Good Sith by sonnyrain - Obi-Wan Kenobi and all of the Vod'e time travel and end up on a Sith planet. Obi-Wan, now 'Aranar', turns to the dark side, swearing to protect his men no matter the cost. Over a million words, lots of plot and character developments, fix-everything, still ongoing as of mid last year but you can read the first part(s) on their own.
I love this fic a ridiculous amount, I read several parts at least twice, and I'm thinking about it constantly. Like, when I think up my plotless little fluff piece fix everything bedtime stories I think up to fall asleep (and sometimes when something's good have to forego sleep to write down immediately because I know I won't remember fuckall come morning), I think of the versions of the characters from that 'verse just as often as I think of canon star wars characters or ones from any other fics. It fits into my headcanon 'verse really well because I always work with multiverse settings, and I love the kid characters especially little Sithling Aurek and his twin Soul.
Knives and Spices by argentee, mikaiyawa and others: A whole group of humans from earth is kidnapped into the Star Wars world, and separate fics follow separate characters. One becomes Mandalorian, one a pop star, yet another befriends some pirates and travels to lands we've never seen in canon. 280k, ratings and warnings vary, series still ongoing, parts can be read separately
I love and adore all kinds of self insert stories but this one is just extra levels of amazing - it's basically humans are space orcs meets Star Wars, and humans are all a bit force sensitive - the ending of the series summary describes it perfectly: "how much trouble can a few humans cause? All of it. All the trouble." and I love it all to bits!
Like a Tree by the River by @bairnsidhe - at Galidraan, Komari has a vision of the canon future and decides that she'd rather leave the Jedi behind than be a part of that massacre. Somehow, this ends with her and Dooku being adopted by mandalorians, and her in turn kind of adopting teenaged Obi-Wan at Melida/Daan? 20k T
Idk, this isn't even such a long one and I mean all of BairnSidhe's works I've read are great but somehow specifically this one with Dooku being the 'a bit old' ad and Komari therefore the bu'ad of a random coruscanti Mandalorian just stuck with me and I sometimes randomly think of Dooku being all confused and have to smile xD the plot&writing is also really good!
How a Romance Novel Saved the Galaxy by @arianaderalte: The mandos get their hands on a novel that describes a romance between mandalorians and jedi, and just how perfect jedi really are as partners for mandalorians... This changes things when both groups interact irl. 200k, rated T, Violence
This series has Everything. Jedi, Mandalorians, action, relationships, all kinds of queerness, and excerpts from a romance novel about the ancient Sith wars. Honestly, this fic just couldn't be better! I binge-read through it in one go even though I should have done a million other things at the time and I didn't regret it one bit xD
All the Amavikka stories: the slaves on Tatooine have a separate secret culture with language, myths and names, and Anakin, coming from this culture, reacts to Palpatine being his newest slave master
I think this idea of Tatooine slave culture and of Anakin's characterization is so interesting and I love reading it, from long Double Agent Vader by @fialleril, which I think is the original fic creating the Ekkreth lore, over the ongoing series Biting His Own Tale by @adragonsfriend, to the short story I can't find anymore about depur erecting a tower, a song-fic to Babylon by Dirt Poor Robin and the reason for my obsession with that band - please, if anyone has a link, send it my way! - and all other fics, I love this trope so much!
I think Ekkreth Skywalker was one of the first trope rabbit holes I stumbled into when I got really into Star Wars longfics in the middle of 2024, and I'm always excited to see references to it in fics mainly about other characters as well, like Breaking Chains by @jehanneargentee, and I went back to (re)reading fics about the trope on purpose several times as well :)
The last fic leads neatly into the next trope I really loved this year, Time Travel stories, more specifically Obi-Wan Kenobi time travelling and meeting mandalorians :D
I don't really have more specific stories for this one, I read so so so many of them that they just blur together in my mind. I marked a couple with the Ao3 rec function so I assume I liked those especially much, but going through them now I still don't really remember much, but I do recognize a couple fic author names as authors I read many good fics from, Ariel_Sojourner AppoApples @batshieroglyphics @roosjem LeeTheHobbit @triscribe cjwritesfanficnow @laurabwrites y'all's are awesome! Everyone, go check out all their fics!
I do also read and enjoy stories where people other than Obi-Wan travel through time, one that really stuck with me is In Good Time by morwen_of_gondor, about the Mandalorian trainers Kal Skirata and Walon Vau time travelling back to their time on Kamino.
All the fluffy h/c, fix-it, everyone lives, no order 66 Clone Wars fics! Pro-jedi, pro-clones, anti-sith (which sometimes includes Anakin, sometimes not), usually focusing on the 212th.
I never watched the series and it's been ages since I watched Attack of the Clones, but somehow, probably on the time travel -> Obi-Wan fics -> General Kenobi pipeline, I ended up reading a loooot of clone wars (fix it) fic, specifically lots and lots of Codywan!
You know that lovely feeling of getting into a new fandom without having any preconceived notions or otps or anything, so you can read All The Fic without any ships or bashing squicking you out? Yeah, that was me in Star Wars several months ago, cursed be the Codywan that got to me xD I can barely read time travel fics anymore without mourning the existence of the Vod'e because changing the past usually means they won't be created (unless they're the ones time travelling of course. Love those fics) and where I used to read just about anyone x Obi-Wan (and also anyone x anybody else lmao), I'm not pretty exclusively into Codywan... That being said, there's a reason for that, and that's the amount of amazing fics for that ship that I came across!
Again, I don't have specific fics that I remember because I just read so many one after the other... I guess I'll have to re-read them all. Which is great actually because me not remembering them much means I can reread them basically for the first time! I did mark some as rec but looking through them now I think they're not mainly recced for the codywan... My shippy bookmark tag might give a better overview.
Another ship I got into was clone troopers Waxer x Boil, I like the thought of the Vod'e being a society of to outsiders identical looking but to each other separate people who only see their immediate batchmates as siblings (which would also psychologically make a lot more sense), and these two are just super cute.
One of the first Waxer/Boil fics I read is also Codywan and it's one of these clones&Obi-Wan time travel fics I like so much :D The 212th Attack Battalion's Guide to Saving the Galaxy by Accident by @antigrav-vector and @quarra, it also has some Dooku/Sifo-Dyas which is another ship I really like.
Another one I still want to continue reading is RCAU: Open Skies mainly by @cacodaemonia, what I've seen of it so far is great and the story is So Long (almost 900k, a honestly daunting wordcount and probably what made me procrastinate continuing it, but also Awesome because So Much Fic), it's cute and shippy and no order 66 but also has plot and interesting characters and ocs and I just love it <3
Also similar but less ship centric, I absolutely love all the fics where Fox gets to kill Palpatine. Just, best trope ever. The Corrie Guard deserves a little Sith Murder. As a treat.
Jaster Mereel and his haat'ade (True Mandalorians), there are a bunch of really good ones where they rescue Obi-Wan and the Young from Melidaan, but also in general all the Jaster fics are great!
While I'm very anti guns irl I just love the fictional Mandalorian culture xD with their cool armor and their codex and the language (per my last count I know 90 words of Mando'a just from fic reading osmosis, send me an ask if you want a list lmao), the vibrant culture created by it being a creed, not one species... and Jaster is just my favorite Mando'ad ever, maybe because he doesn't have much canon attached so fanon just went wild? xD there are also a bunch of jedi shippy fics with him and Dooku sometimes in ot3 with Sifo-Dyas, or him and Jon Antilles like the wonderful 100k wip trade your heart for bones to know by @blackkatmagic, and I think there was one with time travelling adult Obi-Wan as well - edit: yes several, by @roosjem @cjwritesfanficnow @batshieroglyphics <3
Skywalker Family Values by Ariel_Sojourner: Sith-son Luke and senator daughter Leia end up in the same summer camp, it ends in a destruction of the speciist camp, a rebellious theatre performance and the reintroduction of their parents... Aka the parent trap/ Doppelte Lottchen AU that is still somehow perfectly in tune with the Star Wars world! 55k, T for violence.
Can't forget the fic that actually got me into Star Wars! At least I'm pretty sure this is the one? I think there was a tumblr post talking about crackfic ideas for a parent trap AU, and I went looking and found this one, which is actually 100% serious and such a good read. I actually made my mom read it as well xD Das Doppelte Lottchen (German original parent trap book from 1949) was one of our favs for her to read to me when I was a kid, and my mom is always looking for new reading material and as I'm mainly reading fanfic, I'm always happy to find fic she'll also like.
And, because I turn everything into a tag meme, maybe some of you also want to show your appreciation for the writers who got us through the last year - everyone who sees this, feel free to make your own post (if it's just Star wars fic I guess you can reblog-add to this one, but otherwise seriously make your own post)! and remember to leave your authors some comments especially if they can't be @-ed on tumblr :) tagging all the authors already tagged above and everyone else who sees this!
here's my 2024 rec list for other fandoms
more of my fic recs • my writing • my Star Wars • Star Wars fic recs
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alexanderlightweight · 3 months ago
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Sending good vibes your way to help speed up the recovery time!
Teleporting soulmates
When one soulmate is in a panic they teleport to the other
Alec after being named interim head of the institute and getting reamed by his parents for his siblings actions having a panic attack alone in his room. He opens his eyes to what is definitely not his room in the arms of the most gorgeous man and starts panicking for a different reason
Anon I truly enjoyed testing the waters with this new verse. It was really fun to write even if Alec is sad, but he has to be sad to find magnus so he'll get over it (with magnus' help) and he would have been sad anyways so at least this way he gets Magnus out of it.
<3 lumine
not all who wander are lost
--
There is no true time frame for when a soulbond is activated.
Sometimes it happens young, sometimes when old and sometimes never at all.
At nineteen Alec has long given up hope for a soulmate.  Even if he has one, Alec doubts that it will activate. 
The weight of responsibility is heavy on Alec’s shoulders.  The crown of power is a burden, not a reward especially when Alec has no true authority.  He is a figurehead, a scapegoat, something to reduce his parents time in a city that they truly loathe and care nothing for.
Alec is fodder.
Highly valued and well-trained fodder, but he knows his place despite what others may think.
This is no reward, this is a trap.  One Alec will never be able to claw his way out of, especially not alone like he is.
Even now, his first week as a leader has gone terrible.  
Oh the Institute is running just fine.  Better than expected, actually.  However Alec’s abilities as a leader are not what he’s been castigated for.
Apparently Alec must be a soldier, leader, son, brother and a parent to his siblings.  
Soldiers who still act like children in a world where Alec was never allowed to be one.  There is no true envy, Alec would rather know the harsh reality of the world than the coddled farce Jace and Izzy currently know. But despite being the one who fixed things, he’s the only one being blamed.
It’s as his heart feels like it’s cracking open, hollow and empty but now fully broken, wondering if there is any worth to him besides the completion of his duties.  
There’s a rumble — like the growl of an ancient predator — and a crack as if the air itself has been torn apart and then another presence is there.  Someone he doesn’t recognize but that his soul wails for.
“Oh now, this just won’t do.  Aren’t you supposed to be a little happier to see me?” 
Magnus is teasing, or at least that’s what he tells himself as he tries to counter the instinctive bite that enters his tone. Being summoned to a place steeped in nephilim grace and magick is not Magnus’ idea of a good time.
In fact the only thing holding him back from bringing this entire building down is the fact that it’s clearly not a trap.  
Or at least not one yet.
It’s very obvious that the shadowhunter curled up on a dusty and gloomy window seat is also surprised.  
So surprised that he doesn’t even look up, just curling further into himself, shoulders shaking as he tries to restrain his pain.
Centuries of waiting and when Magnus has finally met his soulmate, they can’t even look up at him through their tears.
It’s with a pang of fury that Magnus realizes how young and overwhelmed his soulmate is. Whatever has summoned him to his soulmate’s side is nothing so simple that it can be soothed with mere words.
“There now, I'm here darling. Won’t you at least show me your face?” 
Stubborn, red-rimmed and tear-filled eyes meet his own, lips bloody and oh, the look in his soulmate’s eyes isn’t just despair, it’s also rage.
Magnus can work with that.
“Tell me what has upset you and I will destroy it.”
“You can’t destroy the world.” Is the first thing he ever hears from his soulmate and oh, but in that moment Magnus is entirely tempted to at least try.
“No, perhaps not.” Magnus admits, not yet, anyways “But I can at the very least, take you away.”
“You mean run away?” 
There is no judgement, but Magnus catches both the wistfulness and the derision at such thought. 
“Why not? Or is the Clave so magnanimous these days that they’d let a shadowhunter with a downworlder soulmate live peacefully?"
“No,” his soulmate — his shadowhunter soulmate — scoffs, “you’d be lucky if they outright killed me. I have no real power, I’m nothing more than a shackle they’d use for you to be their dog.”
“Oh sweetheart, you shouldn't have said that if you’d wanted to stay.” 
--
normally Alec would be transported to Magnus but Magnus has better wards than the institute so the soul magic can only do so much so Magnus was reverse summoned (which bully for him, he's about to raid Alec's room and take every single thing that his soulmate wants to from the institute and then he's going to be like 'oh this is my soulmate, he's such an angel... oh a missing nephilim? how interesting, would love to help but I'm on my honeymoon and will be for at least the next decade.
by the time Alec stops having a panic attack Magnus is going to be in 'i've had him for five seconds and I will take down Asmodeus and Lilith both if he isn't pleased with living on earth.
later on alec: fuck I have responsibilties, I've never fled from a single duty charged to me in my life
magnus: oh that explains so much of this tragedy but sweetheart the only job you have now is as my soulmate which is to make me happy
alec: i'm going to fail
magnus: you, darling. YOUR EXISTENCE makes me happy, BEING WITH YOU MAKES ME HAPPY YOURE ALREADY SUCCEEDING YOU KNOW WHAT IM GONNA TAKE DOWN THE CLAVE ANYWAYS. THIS WAS MEANT TO BE ROMANTIC NOT CHURN UP MORE TRAUMA
---
autocorrect (which is rarely correct just hopelessly automatic) changed it to 'anxiety predator instead of ancient' and it took like two rereads to realize what had happened because I do have an anxiety predator living in my brain lol
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mr-gallows · 7 months ago
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James Sunderland Headcanons/Analysis! (SFW) Stuff about his job, dad, music, tidbits
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These are based on Remake James! It's a little easier to come up with headcanons for remake James, since he's a bit more expressive here than the OG. Job:
James is an office clerk (this is confirmed canon), which means he has a job revolving around paying attention to detail. He keeps track of financial records, transactions, orders, supplies, and various other things that an office needs to run smoothly. He's messy, but he's good at his job and has a careful eye for detail. It makes sense for him since he's able to notice small things in Silent Hill that help him progress.
James is well-versed in using office software and spreadsheets, and sometimes is tasked with doing minor trouble-shooting for coworkers. James has an ongoing battle with a faulty office printer.
James prefers this kind of work, even if it doesn't exactly fill him with joy. He's definitely an introvert, but doesn't mind helping others if needed.
James does NOT participate in casual Friday. He always wears his button-down shirt and tie. Prefers not to get too casual about work; he likes to keep those spheres separate. Dad:
James sold his car to help with medical bills that weren't covered by his insurance. His father gave him his old 1977 Pontiac Ventura for free. It's the car his dad drove when he was growing up.
The car barely ran and James taught himself how to fix it. It was his only distraction from Mary's illness.
James has a strained relationship with his father, because he's just super weird. He's caught his dad saying and doing strange things, for instance, holding the box with Walter Sullivan's umbilical cord and just staring at it. One night, James came home from hanging out with his friends, and saw his dad in the kitchen, holding up a knife and staring at the wall as if in a trance. James was freaked out and decided to just come back home in the morning.
This might be dumb and random but I feel like Frank Sunderland doesn't have the best hygiene and his apartment smells. James is probably used to gross stuff. He doesn't like it, but he can deal with it.
James's mom left because she couldn't handle being around Frank anymore. James ended up growing up through his teen years with just his dad. Music:
James strikes me as the kind of guy who listens to The Police, Hall & Oates, maybe REM. Enjoys music with prominent bass lines. He probably listens mainly to hits from different bands as well.
Tends to prefer light rock. Metal isn't really his thing.
James's guilty pleasures are Duran Duran and Cocteau Twins.
I have his shuffle here!:
Tidbits:
James doesn't seem to laugh much, but he does have a sense of humor somewhere in there. Usually it's pretty dry and sarcastic. He appreciates observational humor.
Mary was fond of puns. He always pretended to hate them and roll his eyes, but would end up smiling or chuckling anyway.
James isn't much of a sweets guy, but his favorite ice cream flavor is vanilla. His favorite soda is Coke. He liked Coke floats as a kid. Favorite dessert is apple pie.
Drinks his coffee black.
Tried to tend to Mary's garden when she was sick, but he was overwhelmed by it and being unable to regrow the plants just made him feel worse. He didn't have her green thumb.
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lsunstreakerl · 22 days ago
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2.3k of tiny gax verse! alex, george, and charles POV. sickfic.
They're big fans of denial in the flat. It's easy enough, because if you don't address something, it's not real.
So when Max has a coughing fit one morning, shoulders shaking from the force of it, sounding worryingly thick— well. He blames it on choking on a piece of food. George and Alex let him.
It's getting colder outside, pavement wet from the rain, and they've shoved all of the blankets together. Max is starting to be scouted by teams junior teams, and...
In hindsight, it's stupid. Thinking that just because they'd never seen him get sick meant that it wasn't possible. He gets pale, paler than normal, and Alex curls his fingers into his palms. Max is curled in the middle of the futons, face hidden in George's chest. He's not snoring anymore, just a soft wheeze.
George looks up at him nervously.
"Alex, he's really hot."
Alex knows.
The season has been brutal, and Max and George have spent countless hours on sponsor offers and contracts, and they're all thin, struggling to keep muscle on. Max has been working extra at the garage, because George and Alex just keep growing, and they need nicer clothes for nicer sponsor agreements, and—
It's a vicious cycle. Alex chews at the inside of his cheek, mentally doing the math. If he and George do extra gig work, they might be able to afford medicine, but he's not sure what kind Max needs. A fever reducer for sure, and something to handle the wheeze in his lungs.
Naively, he's hoping maybe cough drops will fix it.
------
George is working at the bookstore. Alex is glad, because each cough from Max gives him a full body flinch, cringing quietly.
He hasn't gotten any better.
Alex pets a hand through Max's hair, damp with sweat. He's hot, even with the fever reducer Alex had convinced someone to buy for him in exchange for crumpled cash outside the store.
Max struggles up onto his forearms suddenly, coughing violently. It sounds wet, wheezing and thick, and he makes a wounded noise when he finally catches his breath, dropping back into Alex's lap.
"Max."
He reaches for the bottle of medicine, prepared to measure out another dose. It's probably not time for it yet, but it's the only thing that helps bring his fever down.
Max's fingers curl weakly into his pant leg, wheezing out another breath.
"I am fine, Ale—"
He breaks off in another coughing fit, doubling over, and Alex feels his blood run cold at the small droplets of crimson Max tries to hide in his elbow.
He tugs Max closer to his chest, panic steadily welling inside of him. They're in over their heads here, and there's only so much denial they can do.
Max wheezes harshly against him, forehead boiling hot against his shoulder.
"Meds."
His voice is weak, but he's fighting through it, defiant shine in his eyes even through the fever haze. Alex measures out another dose, fingers shaking. Max's cough is only getting worse, and they can't afford to get another bottle.
There's a race this weekend, and he knows, as sure as he knows the color of the sky, that Max is still going to try and attend. If they allow him to race is an entirely different story, but he'll try.
Insanely, Alex thinks he wouldn't be all that surprised if Max managed to still win. It feels otherworldly sometimes, living with him, watching him race. He's got a feel for the car that Alex and George can't quite reach, a fiery determination that seems to fuel him further than the rest of them.
Max takes the medicine like a shot. He's not even complaining about the taste anymore, like he did on the first day.
Alex tries to pretend the sinking in his heart is anything but cold, nauseous fear.
------
George is on the beanbag in the back. The bookstore knows he's stressed, and they'd mentioned having a potluck soon, to celebrate some arbitrary holiday George has never heard of. He's hoping there will be enough leftovers for him to sneak some home.
Right now, his priorities are elsewhere, anxiety skating up his fingers and arms, trembling as he types at the keyboard. He doesn't know what else to do.
They'll be out of medicine soon, and Max isn't getting any better, and there's a race coming up.
He hugs his knees tight to his chest, nervously shaking. He can't make it go away— the twitchy, nervous moments that have snuck into his everyday life. Every movement has to be worth it, every action justifiable.
He's going to throw up.
He sends the email.
------
Alex drives them to the race. Mostly because Max can barely make it to his feet, eyes glassy and perpetually sweaty, hair damp at the edges. They keep waiting for him to call it off, for him to admit that he can't do it, but somehow...
He's standing, moving like every breath hurts. Alex has to repeat himself two or three times before Max can hear him, and they can both hear each individual breath.
It sounds more like a rattle than a wheeze, and Alex and George have quietly, without ever speaking about it, taken up watching him in shifts. Sometimes the rattle pauses, and Alex feels everything inside of him plummet with fear until Max takes in another painful breath.
He's sure George also wakes up in a cold sweat, lying frozen to listen to the sound of Max's continued breathing. He's not sure George knows about the blood.
He doesn't have the heart to tell him.
------
George doesn't want to open the email. It's sitting in his inbox like a ticking bomb, because if he doesn't open it, it can't hurt him.
Can't let him down, can't shatter him into a million pieces, can't resign him to a fate of watching Max die in front of him.
He's not stupid. Max isn't getting better. Not without help, actual help, help they can't get. They can't go to a hospital, because the hospital will ask for an adult that they don't have.
They live in a precarious house of cards, and George is watching it wobble dangerously in front of him, growing increasingly unsteady with each struggling breath Max manages.
He can't possibly race— but that's not something they've said out loud. Alex is driving them, and George has a plan.
He opens the email.
From: Fernando Alonso
To: George William
Subject: Re: Why you should lie to the government
George. I am not sure how you got my personal email, and I do not want to know. Your PowerPoint was very engaging.
I will not pretend to be your brother's legal guardian. However, I have the location of a clinic that will see him and keep their mouths shut.
I have attached their contact details.
- Fernando Alonso, FIA Formula 1 World Champion [2005, 2006]
He swallows, opening the email attachment. There's an address, and a list of names. If they detour now—
"Alex, Alex pull over."
Max has fallen back asleep in the passenger seat. His breathing is worryingly shallow and wheezing, and he's both pale and flush, chest barely moving.
Alex pulls over.
------
The detour takes them six hours and more gas than they can afford, but they're almost there. Max hasn't woken up once.
George calls Max's team, apologizing profusely about missing the race, that Max would be there if he could. They're far more understanding than he expected them to be, mentioning that they're glad he's getting rest, that they'd also been worried.
They know Max would be dead before he missed a race. It scares George just how close they're getting.
He has one of the bottles of water uncapped, nudging gently at Max's shoulder. His skin is waxy, and he occasionally shakes with small shivers.
"Max."
He never responds on the first try anymore. George shoves at his shoulder a little harder, fingers tight around the water.
"Hey, wake up, we're almost there."
Usually, that would at least get something. A flutter of his lashes, an attempt to try and drag himself to the surface. George blinks back the hot press behind his eyes, trying to keep his voice steady. He doesn't want to alarm Alex, who's been driving the entire time.
"Max."
His voice cracks. Alex hears it, because of course he does.
"How is he, Georgie?"
George isn't sure he can answer without falling apart, and the panic is starting to seep in through the corners, crawling up his lungs, strangling his heart.
"Max get up. Don't be— come on, don't be lazy."
He's never called Max lazy a day in his life.
"Georgie, hey, how is it?"
Alex sounds worried from the front seat. George presses two shaking fingers below Max's jaw, resting his head featherlight on his shoulder. He doesn't actually know how to check for a pulse, only that this is what they do on TV, on the medical dramas Alex likes.
Max is still breathing, but there's a low, watery sound to it.
"George."
Alex sounds more insistent now, but George doesn't know what to tell him.
"Drive faster."
------
The clinic is a nice building, until George runs inside out of breath, frantically trying to explain that Fernando Alonso sent them, that his brother is sick in the trailer, that he's not waking up.
Max disappears into the back of the building, and he and Alex aren't allowed to follow.
Alex tugs him tight to his chest, one hand shaking as he tries to pet at the back of George's head, still trying to be strong for them both. He can feel his hot tears drop onto his hair.
------
The clinic gets one good luck at Alex and George thirty minutes later and takes them into the back too. They're both put on fluids, and the clinic was apparently planning to cater lunch, so they'll get some extra for them as well.
They're still not allowed to see Max, but Alex has his fingers locked with George's.
"Georgie."
George sniffs, still trying to pretend like he hasn't been crying.
"What?"
Alex squeezes his fingers.
"Who'd you call? To get this?"
George has been a steel trap about how he'd managed to get Max a doctor. He'd told Alex very solemnly that he had a place for them, but he needed Alex to trust him.
So far, he has. Still, George shakes his head, frowning.
"Doesn't matter."
Alex actually thinks it matters quite a bit— not that it does him any good, because George clams up, refusing to tell him anything. He confirms it wasn't a gang, he's not indebted for life, and that it was a stroke of luck, but he won't tell Alex anything else.
By the time the food shows up, a catered table of salad and fruits, roasted meats and vegetables, Alex has accepted that he's not getting an answer out of him.
------
Max has pneumonia. It's bad, apparently. It wouldn't ever have cleared up on his own, and the knowledge sits like a stone in George's gut.
It would've killed him. Slowly, relentlessly suffocating him. There wasn't any kind of over the counter medicine they could've gotten, no amount of cough drops, no miracle words to fix it.
Max is still asleep when the clinic lets them see him. There's an oxygen mask across his face, stickers on his chest attached to colorful cords that lead up to a monitor. There's another one wrapped around his finger, and he has an IV in, running up to bag of fluids above his head.
George tugs his chair closer and gingerly rests his head on Max's thigh. He's always felt untouchable, above everything else, stronger than anyone else George knows.
He doesn't feel untouchable now. He feels fragile, and George wants to curl around him, wants to protect him from everything the way Max does for him, but he can't. Not against this.
Alex's hand rubs softly against his back as he cries quietly.
------
12 years later:
Charles bumps Max's hip with his own as they walk closer to the cooldown room, grinning. The podium endorphins are starting to hit, and he's ready to chug the entire bottle of blissfully cool water waiting for him.
George is ahead of them, already scrubbing a towel through his hair, cap in one hand. He's grinning too, the special wide one reserved just for Alex and Max.
Max yanks his balaclava off, slamming his fist against his chest as he coughs briefly. Charles winces in sympathy, but George darts over immediately, nudging Max out of view of the cameras. He's gone ashen, eyes wide as he checks over Max frantically.
"Christ, Georgie— it is the fucking humidity here, always, you know it makes my lungs act up. Chill."
"Do you need an inhaler? Aleix keeps one in his bag."
Max levels an impressively unimpressed face at George.
"So does Rupert, because they are my lungs. If I needed it, I would be using it. Seriously, go sit. I'm fine."
Charles quirks his head.
"You have asthma?"
Max wrinkles his nose, rolling his eyes as he grabs his own water.
"No. George is just being a worrywart."
George glares, jaw tensed.
"Sorry, I think it's fair that it makes me anxious."
Max sighs, gripping George by the hand and pulling him into a tight hug. Charles doesn't catch what he says, too quiet for anyone but George to hear, but he sees the way his shoulders relax, leaning their heads together briefly.
He didn't know Max had problems with his lungs. Or at least some kind of problem, if it's earned him George's anxiety. Then again, George is anxious about a million things at any given moment— Charles has never met anyone with the ability to juggle as many problem as George and manage to be equally as stressed about every single one of them.
He wonders if Mercedes has designed a ThunderShirt for him yet.
Max manages to appease George, and Charles attempts to put it out of his mind. He'll ask Max about it later, when there aren't hundreds of cameras capturing their every movement.
For now, he has a podium to get to.
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emeraldscript · 3 months ago
Text
i come bearing gifts!
2.4k of alien max. maxiel. daniel has a bad night and max is the only thing that helps. (all of alien max verse here)
Daniel steers his car into the driveway, kicking up dust behind him. When he sneaks a glance over at Max, he's finishing his slushie from the beach, looking out the window happily. 
"It's getting a bit late already, wanna have dinner?" Daniel asks.
"Sure Daniel, I will try and fix the communicator," Max returns. 
They make their way inside, Daniel making a beeline for the freezer to see if he has any leftovers that would do.
Max on the other hand, spreads out his supplies and starts deconstructing his communications device into the tiniest bits. 
Daniel won't even try to comprehend what's going on and turns towards the stove. 
After dinner, Max continues working on his project and Daniel puts on Netflix, spreading out on the couch. He settles on some reality show he started a while back and is only half watching, intermittently turning back to watch Max work. He's intensely focused, taking apart little metal plates and replacing them. He's also taking apart some of the cables he bought, using the single copper threads to connect bits.
Sometimes, when he's frustrated he makes a clicking noise. Daniel's not sure whether that's just his equivalent of a huff or if he's cursing under his breath in alien. It's endearing either way. 
Eventually, Max groans loudly, pushes his hands into his blonde strands and slides down the barstool. 
"I think I give up, it's not working," Max says, looking downtrodden. 
"It's okay, it's getting late anyway. Let's just go to bed, hm?" Daniel says.
"Okay, Daniel," Max agrees.
Max mentions that he'd like to soak in the bath for a bit before going to his human bed so Daniel lets the bath run while he takes a quick shower and brushes his teeth. He's just crunching some gel into his curls when he sees Max hovering by the cracked door in his mirror. 
"C'mon then Maxy, I'm done. Goodnight, yeah?" Daniel says and lets Max into the bathroom. 
He is just settled into his bed, adjusting the pillow when he hears the faint sloshing of water in the tub. 
He closes his eyes and wills his brain to stop imaging Max stripped bare, soaking in the bath, one leg propped up on the side of the tub. Yeah, awesome Daniel. Not thinking about it is definitely working.
Daniel turns, trying to find a comfortable position to try and fall asleep in. It's not been the easiest of late. After a few minutes of trying to clear his mind, he turns onto his front and buries his face in the pillow. He chances a glance at the clock on his bedside. Great, 50 minutes have already passed.
Eventually, after much tossing and turning, he must fall asleep. The next thing he knows he's sitting upright in his bed, heart hammering in his chest, trying to gulp down a breath. His chest hurts, it feels all tight and achey. His lungs feel like they're on fire. He feels a wet sensation on his lower arm, like a raindrop.
He looks around. He's inside his room. That doesn't make any sense.
When he turns to his other side, he sees a figure half hunched over the edge of the bed. More panic spreads in his chest and he scrambles towards the other side of the bed.
"Daniel," a calm and steady voice asks.
Max. Oh thank fucking God. It's just Max. 
"Breathe with me, c'mon, just like earlier," Max says.
Daniel hears a deep breath echo through his darkened room and he tries to follow, he does, but it's not really working. He hears his breath stock before any air can even really enter his lung. 
"And again, c'mon," Max instructs. 
Daniel tries, he does, but it's not doing anything. He squeaks out a sound. It sounds distressed even to his own ears. Then, Max climbs onto the bed and takes Daniel's hand with his dripping wet one. 
It feels like a shock to Daniel's system, but it helps. His lungs stutter and finally let some air in. Max runs his damp thumb over Daniel's hand again. Just like before in the store. It feels familiar and calming. 
Daniel lets him, eventually lies back down, sideways, facing Max.
Max climbs into the bed too, settles next to Daniel and keeps running his thumb back and forth on the back of Daniel's hand. 
At some point Daniel huffs out a laugh. "Did you lie down in my sheets soaking wet, Maxy?" 
"Yes, it's much nicer like this, actually. Less dry and itchy," Max confirms. 
"I'm glad," Daniel murmurs. 
"Just go to sleep, Daniel, I will be here," Max says. 
"Yeah?" Daniel asks.
"Hm, I'm not going anywhere," Max says, like it's the most normal thing in the world. 
Like it's not an insane thing to say to someone you've known for a couple days. But the thing is. The thing is that Daniel believes him. Max is so fucking sincere with his words and actions and intentions. There's no second guessing. It gives Daniel whiplash. He's not been used to that level of sincerity over the last few years. 
So Daniel does just that, focuses on the repetitive motion of Max's fingertips on his skin and closes his eyes.
He falls into a dreamless sleep. 
Daniel wakes with a start. He hears someone walking up the stairs. The fifth step from the top creaks loudly, like it always does.
Daniel looks over at the bedside table. The clock reads 9:54am. This has to be the longest he's slept in weeks. 
He hears a familiar voice drift through his bedroom door "Danny, don't tell me you're still sleeping," his sisters voice sounds through the wood.
Daniel tries to sit up but he realises he's being held down. He looks over and Max is lying on his spare pillow, jaw slack and lips puckered in his sleep. Max has his hand wrapped around Daniel's wrist. Probably from where he's patted Daniel to sleep last night. 
He's so fucked.
Michelle barges through the door in that exact moment, yelling "Wakey, wakey, Daniel!"
When she takes in the scene in front of her, she stops in her tracks, breathes out a fuck and turns back around, slamming the door behind her.
All the commotion stirs Max out of his sleep. He lazily blinks his eyes open, pupils little slits that expand rapidly in the relative darkness of the room.
"Hello, Daniel," he says sleepily, voice shot. His hand around Daniel's wrist gives a slight squeeze and almost, as if out of instinct, his thumb starts its back and forth movement again, calming Daniel.
"Everything okay? You smell slightly off," Max asks, rolling his face into the pillow underneath him. 
"My sister just walked in on us," Daniel says, resigned. 
He'll never live this down, especially when she properly sees Max.
"It's okay, I'm of course happy to meet her," Max says.
That startles a laugh out of Daniel. 
"Yeah? No cold feet?" he asks.
"I am obviously happy to meet your family, Daniel. It's very rude not to, considering everything," Max says. 
"Everything?" Daniel asks.
"Yes, of course. It is only proper. My mother raised me better than that. They should meet me," Max says, as if that explains anything. 
Daniel has that nagging feeling in the back of his head that he's missing something major.
"Max, what do you mean exactly? Before what?" Daniel asks.
In that moment, Michelle knocks on the door again.
"Get decent in there, yeah? I'm putting some coffee on downstairs. And don't even think of making a run for it out the window, I want to meet you so I can never let Danny live this down!" Michelle half-yells through the door. 
"Jesus, Mish!" Daniel yells back.
He hears her cackle and then her footsteps retreat down the stairs. 
"She seems nice," Max says from beside him. He has not stopped running his finger over Daniel's wrist. Daniel doesn't want him to stop. 
"She's an asshole," Daniel says through a laugh. 
"I'll go down for now, do you want to wake up properly and join us in a bit?" Daniel asks.
"Sure, I'll just get dressed," Max says. 
He gives Daniel one last squeeze, rolls off the side of the bed and frees himself from under Daniel's covers. He only wearing the shorts Daniel gave him yesterday. His chest is bare. Daniel tries not to stare, he really does but Max looks broad and toned, under a thin layer of squish. And his pecs are, quite frankly, obscene. They bounce with each movement and Daniel feels his mouth watering. 
Daniel gives himself a shake, gets out the bed and wills his morning wood to go down. 
When he enters the kitchen, Michelle is placing a cup under the coffee machine.
"Morning," Daniel ventures.
"Very good morning, actually," Michelle responds. 
"Oh shut up, Mish," Daniel says. 
"You know I won't," she sing-songs.
"I can explain, okay, it's ehm-" Daniel tries.
"Dan, you really don't need to explain. It's fine that it's a guy. I don't care. I just want you to be happy, hm?" she says. The look on her face is really sincere. Daniel doesn't know what to feel or say in response to that. 
He settles on "thanks, but ehm, it's a bit more complicated than that. Just don't freak out, yeah? Promise me, please."
"If this is a gender thing that's of course fine, too, Dan," she says, swapping out the cups now.
Daniel hears the stairs creak. Max is coming down. Before Daniel can say anything else, Max enters the kitchen. He walks straight past Daniel, making a beeline for Michelle, who is just fiddling with the pressure of the coffee machine. 
"Hello, you must be Daniel's sister. It's an honour to meet you, I'm MX.V331 but Daniel calls me Max," he says, folding his hands together in front of him and giving Michelle a slight bow. 
Daniel can see the exact moment Michelle registers first Max's eyes, then his pointy ears and then the Enchante t-shirt with the hole at the collar from Daniel's first ever collection. It's his favourite t-shirt and he's refused to throw it out despite his last girlfriend begging him to get rid of it for years. 
She throws Daniel a questioning look but recovers well and holds her hand out to Max. He looks a bit lost, throws a forlorn look back at Daniel who just nods encouragingly. So Max mirrors Michelle and they shake hands. 
"Nice to meet you, Max," she says.
Max smiles back at her and then makes his way to the bar. 
"So, Max, tell me about yourself. How long have you known my brother?" Michelle asks to break the silence. 
"Well, he pulled me out of my crashed plane about two days ago, so about that long," Max says. 
"Crashed plane, oh my god! Are you okay? What did the police say? Dan, what the hell why didn't you call?" Michelle asks alarmed.
"Well, uhm," Daniel starts.
"Well, Daniel said that the alien police might come and get me so I've been wearing a hat to hide," Max says matter of factly. 
"Alien police," Michelle says. She pauses. Daniel fiddles with his cuticles.
"You're having me on, right? You just picked him up in cosplay after a Star Trek convention, right? Please tell me this is some fetish thing. I won't judge," Michelle says to Daniel, throwing her hands up.
"No can do, I'm afraid. Maxy here is a full fledged humanoid alien I picked up in the desert. Kinda sick, eh?" Daniel says, putting his arm around Max where he's sitting on the bar stool. 
"Also you know damn well there are no conventions happening right now, nerd," Daniel needles. 
"You're being serious?" Michelle asks. 
"He is," Max pipes up, smiling his big, crinkly smile up at Daniel. 
"Prove it," Michelle says. 
"Would you be so kind, Max?" Daniel asks.
Max nods and goes to the sink to wet his hand. He splashes some on his neck as well for good measure.
"Go on," Daniel urges his sister.
She approaches Max with skeptical look on her face. Max points to his neck where his gills are opening and closing. He also holds up his hand where his webbing is more visible now. 
"Oh my god, oh my god!" Michelle shrieks.
"Don't be fucking rude," Daniel scolds.
"No, it's not that. Aliens exist, oh my god," she says. "This type of shit would only happen to you, Dan."
"You're technically not meant to know, so please can you-" Max starts.
Michelle just envelops Max in a hug in response. Max looks frozen in place and stands there, stock still, while his sister hugs him tight. 
"Of course, not a word," she says.
"Well, I mean, shall we have breakfast then?" Daniel asks.
+++ 
After breakfast, Daniel suggest that Max try out the pool and he's living his best life splashing away in it. He lamented the stinky acid smell before dipping his toe in but he seems to be enjoying himself now. 
He's currently sitting at the bottom of the pool and has been down there for a good three minutes.
Daniel and Michelle are sitting on the sun lounger, enjoying another coffee. 
Max had wrinkled his nose at the proposition after trying it earlier and doing his best to not spit the whole gulp back into his cup. No coffee for Max. Daniel has taken note.
"So," Michelle starts.
"Don't," Daniel responds.
"Daniel," Michelle says.
"It's not like that. He's," Daniel says, motioning towards the pool. Max is still sitting there at the bottom, legs crossed and eyes open, Daniel is pretty sure.
"Don't lie to me. I've known you all your life remember?" Michelle snorts out.
"I'm not lying. I can't. He's just lost and stranded. And I'm helping him. I'm nice like that," Daniel protests.
"He's weird," Michelle says.
"Hey!" Daniel shouts, affronted.
"You love weird! Plus, you were sleeping together, literally. Cuddled up," Michelle responds, throwing Daniel a look.
"Max is just. He's different. He doesn't understand our customs and it doesn't mean the same thing to him," Daniel say.
"Fuck that, he looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky. And he would know. That's where he's from," Michelle says.
"Human standards don't apply, Mich. He's not from here," Daniel says.
"But you are, and they do mean something to you. Don't even try your bullshit with me, Dan. I know your tells," Michelle says.
"You have no idea what you're talking about," Daniel tells her, fiddling with one of the pebbles Max gave him yesterday in his short pocket.
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desireandduty · 1 year ago
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Moving a starter over from discord for @sithdestined
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She wasn't quite sure why she'd started coming to these illegal podraces. Maybe it was for the second-hand thrill of speed and inhuman agility. Maybe it was for the opportunity to be someone else for an evening (of course, she attended incognito as merely Padmé and not Senator Amidala.) Tonight, as she and Dormé cheered on the racers, there was no shortage of thrills.
Especially not once the newest racer on the scene took off his helmet after winning his race to reveal that he was human. And a devastatingly handsome one at that. Padmé didn't quite know why, but something about those piercing, ocean blue eyes as he looked at the cameras and waved to the crowd made her feel things she hadn't in years. She had to meet this man.
So once the race officially ended and the crowds dispersed, she dragged Dormé along to the side door to the racers' locker rooms and waited for him to come out. To her immense good fortune (Shiraya must have been smiling upon her tonight), she waited only a few minutes for him to appear, and he exited not in a crowd of other racers but on his own.
Leaving Dormé waiting across the alleyway, Padmé crossed quickly towards him and said: "I've never seen a human win a podrace before. You have a lot to celebrate this evening."
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earthsparked · 2 months ago
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Being held gently by a giant alien mech might not fix me, but - no, actually, it would. Because sometimes we are all just soft and scared mammals who want someone strange and powerful to be gentle with us. Or someone strange and powerful we can be gentle with.
•Sideblog for me to collect all my favorite humans vibing with Transformers posts, fics, headcanons! Personal blog is @darkwingduck. I can reply from here, but I have to like and follow from there.
•Platonic only out of my own preferences, but be aware blog owner is an adult. They/them pronouns are fine. <3
•Fair warning that I don’t care about canon! These are my fun little guys and I will do as I wish to them.
•I also don’t strictly follow any particular continuity - more a mishmash of G1, TFP, and MTMTE but with an occasional splash of other media. I steal concepts and characters from all over. You’re welcome to think of it as whatever version you prefer.
•All original posts are just my thoughts, if they’re not your thing that’s okay 💕 I don’t care about being right, I am just here to fantasize about Transformers. We live in a difficult world, take happiness where you can, to each their own.
•I crosspost here and on AO3 @ earthsparked!
Tag Organization
#humans are space (ship) cats A Transformers take on the scifi trope of humans being space cats. Loose, mostly unconnected 'verse where humans serve on Cybertronian spaceships more or less as ship's cats, providing pest control, emotional support, and organic solutions to mechanical problems. #GET PACK BONDED IDIOT Transformers (and sometimes others) falling victim to humans' pack bonding ways.
#human distribution system Woe, human be upon ye. Applies when there is talk of a human or humans being acquired, one way or another, by Cybertronians. Has some crossover with other categories. #Scrappy the scraplet Connected to the idea of humans as spaceship cats, Scrappy's your tamed/reprogrammed/partially domesticated and heavily modded personal assistant/pet/service scraplet. The last one you left alive after wiping out a swarm that tried to eat your mechs, he was mostly intact. Now he has a bunch of extra abilities to help you with all the things humans can't do. He's too well-trained and coded to attack at random, but he still makes most mechs uneasy. Loves humans. He's painted neon pink with bright yellow, green, and purple flowers. Looks like a demonic rooster. Comes up to about your knees, weighs about 25 pounds - much heavier than most scraplets, because of modified armor. Has a subspace pocket in his mouth where he carries things for you. Can "spit" items to you.
#self-insert sunday Every Sunday I celebrate the joys of self-inserts. Cringe is dead. Love yourself.
#transformers first contact au Any kind of scenario where humans and Cybertronians are meeting and interacting for the first time, and all the learning, confusion, and fun that comes with that.
#transformers x reader #transformers x human Don't let that x fool you, I use it because it's a more common tag than the &. My writing is platonic though sometimes quite intimate (but feel free to imagine as you will, I'm not a cop, gosh <3) #earthsparked asks Asks I've answered #earthsparked chatter General engagement
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glitter-stained · 7 months ago
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As someone who is very much not well-versed in medical things/psychology, I have no idea how to research this efficiently, so, would you say that Jason would in any way benefit from being on some sort of medication, like anti-depressants or something like that? Not in a way of "oooh that would fix him and make him not murderous" or whatever, but to improve some of the very clear mental health issues that affect him in his day-to-day life, first and foremost.
Oh I love that one! Answering quickly for once because I've already dissected it in my head
Fuck yeah he would benefit from medication. Of course, I'm neither a psychiatrist nor a pharmacist, but I did have classes on neuropharmacology and it was one of my favourite things to study, so I'm confident I'm not saying random shit but if someone in there
So- of course, it depends on the era, but there are three molecules I'd consider useful for him :
> Rebirth Jason:
-sertralin
> any and all Jasons:
- lamotrigin
-propanolol
Sertralin
So, the antidepressants. Basically, sertralin is an SSRI, which means it works by altering your brain chemistry to heighten the chances that your neurons will get the possibility to transmit serotonin, a neurotransmitter (brain molecule) that is linked with happiness (very very basically. Please don't misunderstand this as "sertralin/serotonin makes you happy".) I'll admit I haven't read enough of rebirth Jason to establish whether he fits the criteria for a characterized depressive episode rather, but he already displays, at minima, subclinical signs of depression. One reason why I don't need to wait for an established diagnosis to say I think trying out antidepressants would be a good idea is that Jason is suicidal as fuck (has made several attempts on his life + documented suicidal ideation... and at least according to Bruce) has been for a very long time.) This makes it a total emergency.
Now if we're considering post Gotham war Rebirth Jason, this guy has an anxiety disorder (like, I wish Batman #148 had shown Jason abusing benzos so bad.) The thing is, Joker might have made Jason "functional" enough not to be paralyzed by fear in Man Who Stopped Laughing (and hey! Laughter is a good strategy to regulate anxiety. Thanks, Joker.), but that is very much not enough: as Joker says, Jason still feels that anxiety, he's just not having outwards panic attacks about it. The thing with anxiety (aside from the risks of such extreme chronic stress) is that 1) some SSRI, like sertralin, have a positive effect on symptoms and 2) if untreated, it very often leads to depressive symptomatology (kinda like fatigue from all the stress). All of this to say if a patient has anxiety, in my country it's recommended to give them antidepressants, both to soothe the anxiety and to decrease the risk of developing depression. So yeah, I would definitely give him antidepressants!!
Lamotrigin
Listen.
Listen. I know what you're thinking. "Why would you recommend giving Jason an anti-epileptic? He doesn't have epilepsy." He doesn't. Stay with me.
So, lamotrigin is originally an anti-epileptic. However they realized that using smaller doses could make it into a thymoregulator for bipolar disorder (I and II). Now, a thymoregulator is a medicine that people with bipolar take to regulate their emotions. Bipolar disorders are characterized by three phases: mania(or hypomania), depressive phase, and euthymia. Mania (or hypomania) is characterized by elevated mood and/or agressivity (though the most characteristic of mania is still elation/euphoria) that can be associated with overestimation of abilities, augmentation of risk taking, sometimes psychotic symptoms (such as grandiose delusions, etc.) Depressive phases are the symptoms of a characterized depressive episode, but in the context of bipolar (they're often very severe, and can sometimes take on melancholic and/or psychotic characteristics). They're not rapid mood swings: manic and depressive episodes can sometimes last weeks. And then there is euthymia, which is "normal, non-pathologic mood". So basically, your mood is a spectrum from "so high it's harmful and dangerous to you" to "so low it's harmful and dangerous to you", with euthymia in the middle as "neither too high nor too low". The goal of thymoregulators like lamotrigin is to keep the patient in euthymia. That doesn't mean that the person will never feel sad or happy, this isn't a mood dampener: it's just that they won't have to leave with the fear that every stressor or sad moment will send them spiralling in a depressive episode, or that they have to be careful not to feel too much joy in case in tumbles into euphoria. It's just a way to compensate the chemical dysfunction in the brain that makes it so incredibly hard and painful to emotionally regulate.
Now, as we said, mood is a spectrum, and in bipolar, it's like you're swinging from one end of the spectrum to the other. But it's not perfectly symetrical, not for everyone. For example, you can have one patient who has very high mania and severe depressive episodes, but you could also have patients with high mania and less severe depressive symptoms, or patients with severe depressive symptoms and hypomania rather than mania. This is why we need different types of thymoregulators! Each thymoregulator's effect span can be situated on the mood spectrum. For example, lithium works best for patients where there's a symetrical dysregulation (so the mood goes about as high in the maniac phase as it goes low in the depression phase), and lamotrigin works best with patients whose disorder tends more towards the lower end of the mood spectrum (ie patients with very severe depressive episodes and whose high episodes tend more towards hypomania. (That's classically what we get with cohort studies, but of course every patient is unique! This is why it sometimes takes many tries before finding A) the right molecule for the patient and B) the right dosage for the molecule, which requires evaluating and re-evaluating with the psychiatrist as the treatment is established, blood draws to figure out absorption etc... It's a very careful balance to find.)
Now, it's a hc I've seen a bunch, but I don't personally hc Jason as having a bipolar disorder. So why do I think lamo could help him?
As we've seen, lamo's job is basically to help regulate negative emotions. To which, someone had the brilliant idea to realise hey, there are other disorders in which there are major issues with regulating negative emotions because of alterations to brain chemistry, one of the best-known being PTSD! So they conducted studies and it turns out, some thymoregulators (including lamo), in lower doses than those used in treatment for bipolar, are efficient in supporting emotional regulation in PTSD! It's pretty recent, but professionals have started to prescribe those thymoregulators to people with PTSD, and I for one think it's really really cool (partially because research in ptsd is doing amazing rn, and partially because my doctor decided i had enough trauma to qualify for prescribing lamo- i didn't necessarily agree with him, but of all the medication I've been prescribed it's the one that helped the most and I'm really really happy about it.) So with all of that said, I hope it makes sense why Jason, whose brand of complex PTSD (which is imo clearly associated with negative emotional dysregulation) might benefit from lamotrigin or a similar thymoregulator.
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kingofbodyrolls · 3 months ago
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Why I left, and why I’m staying
Before we begin, a gentle warning: this post touches on some heavy topics—self-harm, suicide, childhood trauma, and mental health. If these are tender places for you, please take care of yourself first. You don’t have to read this. You come first. Always.
The breaking
I wish I could say there was one reason I left, one singular thing that cracked me open and made me disappear. But life isn’t that neat, is it? It was everything, all at once—the weight of low engagement, the endless comparisons, the silent echoes in the spaces where I hoped for connection. It was the exhaustion of always lifting others while I crumbled beneath my own hands, the way I’d pour and pour and pour until my cup was bone-dry.
I’ve never been good at putting myself first. So I did something drastic. I erased myself. I deleted my blog. And even though I know I needed to do it, even though I was drowning—it still stings. Because I know I disappointed people. Because I felt like I failed.
But sometimes, you have to lose yourself to find yourself again.
The staying (or at least, the blog is)
Fifteen years. That’s how long my original blog existed (RIP, old friend). It was a part of me, woven into my story. And even when I stepped away, I still felt the pull—the whisper of unfinished business. I missed the good parts, the warmth, the shared love for stories. And most of all, I felt like I owed it to you—to the people who found pieces of themselves in my words—to keep those stories alive, even if I wasn’t always here to tend to them.
I don’t know if I’ll be active. I don’t know if I’ll post new things. The same reasons that made me leave still sit heavy on my chest sometimes. But I’ve learned something in all of this: healing isn’t a straight path. It isn’t a neat little checklist where you wake up one day and—boom!—all better. It’s messy. It’s cyclical. Some days I feel invincible, and some days I feel like a ghost haunting my own life.
I’m staying, but I’m staying on my own terms.
The healing
Here’s the scariest part: I don’t really know who I am. I don’t know where I begin and where my trauma ends. For so long, I’ve been a collection of survival tactics, stitched together with coping mechanisms and old wounds. I’ve been the person who tries to fix everything—people, situations, the cracks in the universe itself—because maybe if I can make others happy, I can be happy too.
But that’s not how healing works.
And I want to heal. I want to love without needing to be needed. I want to give without emptying myself. I want to exist simply because I deserve to exist—not because I think I have to prove my worth to anyone.
In my time away, I rediscovered something that’s been a lifeline: poetry. I wrote my pain into verses, shaped my grief into something tangible, something outside of me. And somewhere in that process, I found a little light. Enough light to choose to stay. Enough light to call my doctor that day instead of following through with a plan I had convinced myself was necessary. Enough light to realize that I don’t actually want to die—I just want the pain to stop.
And now, I want to live. Fully, wholly, authentically. I want to love my husband and my kids the way I needed to be loved as a child. I want to keep giving—but from a place of joy, not from a place of depletion. I want to share, not because I need validation, but because I already know I am enough.
So if I pop in and out, know that it’s not because I don’t care. It’s because I am taking care. Of myself. Of the little girl inside me who deserved softness, but never got it. Of the future version of me who deserves to be whole.
To you, with Love
If you’ve read this far—thank you. Truly.
If you are struggling, if you carry trauma, if your mind feels like a storm you can’t escape—please, please know: you are not alone. Even in a crowded room, even when it feels like no one sees you—I promise, someone does. And if you ever need someone to talk to, I am here (or on Discord, same username).
Please, take care of yourself. Please stay.
The world needs your light.
And I will be back 🌻☀️
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desireandduty · 2 years ago
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With her lantern lit and in-hand, Padmé waited by the door for Leia to return with the food. When she showed up with both hands full, Padmé raised an eyebrow. "What kind of toy?" she asked, nodding her head towards Leia's other hand. Privately, she was certain that fish didn't play with toys, but she wasn't in the habit of squashing her children's curiosity or creativity. The worst that would happen was that one of the twins' toys would be ruined by being tossed in the water.
Together, they walked back outside and down the porch steps. The sun was setting now in streaks of bright orange and pink across the sky. "Look how beautiful," she said, pointing with her free hand towards the sky. "I'm glad to get to watch the sunset with my favorite daughter." She grinned at Leia and then held the lantern high once they reached the koi pond. "Okay, do you want to give them their toy or their food first?"
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Leia loved being outside, enjoying the soft breeze of the wind as well as the fresh scent of the flowers. She also loved the trees, the water ... She couldn't be happier that this place was her home, always dreading these days when they had to go to Coruscant where there was nothing but tall buildings. She made sure to enjoy the nature whenever she could. Like now.
She hummed with a nod as only answer, before running inside their home so that she could get the box of fish food, like it was asked of her, little feet being heard on the wooden floor. When she got it, she made her way back to her mother. ❝ I got the food ! And I also got a toy ! Do you think the fishies will like it? ❞
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desireandduty · 2 years ago
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Adventures with Nanna!
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Sometimes, Padmé struggled to admit her grandson, her sweet, sad, precocious Starshine, was growing up. Despite the fact that, at 16, @galaxicide was now a half foot taller than her, she could still look at him and see the little boy with a mop of unruly dark hair and eyes too big for his face. At the same time, she firmly believed in treating children and teenagers as people, not babies, because she and her handmaidens had led a planet and fended off an invasion at fourteen (in Padmé's case, but all of her handmaidens had been teenaged girls, so her point still stands.)
So last week when she and Anakin had come to Chandrila for a family dinner and Leia had drawn her aside to ask for a favor, she thought nothing of it. And when Leia explained that the favor was an off-the-record voyage through the Transitory Mists to the Hapes Cluster and that the only pilot she could send was her teenage son, Padmé saw no reason to think this plan was doomed for failure. Although now, at 67, she was officially retired from politics, she still served as an advisor to the Queen of Naboo sometimes, as well as to Leia. She was still as sharp as ever with a blaster, and Ben, she knew, had done quite well under her grandfather's tutelage in the ways of the Force.
Since this expedition was not sanctioned by the Senate, Ben was piloting Padmé's personal vessel, and they were dressed as tourists. There was trade between the Hapes Cluster and the rest of the New Republic worlds, but actual tourism was far less common. It took a very skilled pilot to successfully pierce those mists, but if anyone could do it, she knew that Ben could. Thus far, it had been an uneventful journey. As she looked over at him now from her seat in the copilot's chair, Padmé strongly suspected that he was looking forward to this last leg. At least there would be some excitement in it. "How long until we reach the Mists, do you think?" she asked idly, before returning her gaze to the datapad she was reading about the most recent history of the Hapes Cluster (what was known of it at least.)
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buddierecs · 1 year ago
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humour/crack buddie fics
all of these are general audience, teen and up or not rated (no smut) make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)
nobody knows you, baby, the way i do by allyasavedtheday "buck and eddie bet hen and chimney that they know each other better than they do and a rivalry ensues. featuring one-upmanship, codependency, ravi as reluctant quizmaster and eddie believing his will is the ultimate trump card." word count: 3.7k important tags: humour, fluff, bet & wagers, feelings realization, first kiss 1001 reasons not to get drunk with your sisters boyfriend by: withmeornotatall "buck and chimney have a little too much fun on a night out and end up in a tattoo shop. when the tattoo artist asks what buck wants, he can't decide between eddie and christopher." word count: 4.3k important tags: drunken shenanigans, tattoos, possessive!eddie, getting together, sloppy makeouts, team as family the one where the 118 play "never have i ever" & chaos ensures by: dylaesthetics "playing never have i ever during a slow shift goes as well as you can probably expect." word count: 3.1k important tags: team as family, love confessions, teasing, friends to lovers, first kiss the kermit verse by: hattalove "how is eddie diaz like kermit the frog? let buck and christopher count the ways." word count: 8.7k important tags: christopher diaz is a national treasure, getting together, first kiss, memes those two firefighters by: darkfairytale "#thosetwofirefighters starts to gather a following on social media, as everyone tries to figure out if those two cute firefighters from the 118 in LA are a thing or not." word count: 64k important tags: crack treated seriously, oblivious!buddie, internet, social media, slow burn does your firehouse know? by: allyasavedtheday after chimney accidentally discovers buck and eddie are together they ask him to keep it a secret for a few weeks while they settle into their relationship. it goes about as well as expected. word count: 7.5k important tags: secret relationship, fluff, crack, pov outsider woke up the girl who looked just like you, i almost said your name by: rarakiplin "five times Eddie dates a guy a little too similar to Buck, and one time he dates the real deal." word count: 8.9k important tags: 5+1 things, jealous!evan buckley, getting together, pov outsider i just wanna tell you how i'm feeling by: calvingseason "healing through shitty memes sure is cathartic." word count: 7.6k important tags: memes, getting together, coming out, first kiss, love confessions yours apparently by: smilingbuckley "buck and eddie are accused of hiding their relationship... even though they're not together." word count: 7.3k important tags: misunderstandings, different know they were dating, feelings realisation, first kiss, idiots in love good luck, babe by: hattalove "sometimes, when you've had a bad week, all you want is a romantic evening out with your wife over terrible pizza, and what you get instead is some kind of intricate gay ritual happening two tables away from you." word count: 2.1k important tags: outsider pov, tommy kinard, marisol, social media, jealous!eddie diaz you were looking at me first by: hattalove "in which buck likes to be naked when he's at home, and eddie likes it when buck feels at home under his roof. these are two things that can definitely coexist." word count: 3.4k important tags: nudity, getting together, first kiss, gay disaster!eddie diaz the ducking of evan buckley by: browney3dgirl6 "buck doesn’t have any ducks for his jeep. eddie decides to fix that. aka 5 times eddie secretly leaves ducks for buck, and the one time he hands one right to him." word count: 13k important tags: 5+1 things, bad puns, soft!buddie, christopher diaz is a national treasure, oblivious!evan buckley, idiots in love say (don't) go by: bccalling eddie starts dropping hints he wants more kids. buck assumes he means with marisol. buck spirals about it. eddie does not mean with marisol. word count: 20k important tags: pre-relationship, getting together, kid fic, mutual pining, domestic fluff
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