#i think the continuous trauma the eye causes on him shaped him to be a colder and more cruel person

[shizukais]

[tragedybunny]

Just the Way I Am - Astarion x F!Reader - Mildly NSFW, TW: Mentions of past sexual trauma, drugging oneself

I'm not really sure I like this at all, but since I put so much time into, I'm posting it.

Astarion feels he's lacking because he can't have sex with you. He resorts to a potion in an attempt to give you what he thinks you want.

You had stopped at the potion shop in Wyrm's Crossing, looking for some herbs or something Gale had wanted. Astarion hadn't been paying a terrible amount of attention, he was just happy to run an errand with you only, and none of the rest of the hangers-on. They were alright, he'd concede if asked, but you were getting closer to Cazador and the Brain, and whatever else was going on in Baldur's Gate, and his time with you felt so limited. The two of you could meander around a bit after this and just be together. 

So of course this was taking forever. Currently he was entertaining himself by pacing irritatedly around the shop while the clerk painstakingly found, measured, and packed, all of Gale's list. He sighs and you shoot him a look of irritation causing him to wince internally. The last thing he wants is for you to be angry with him. So he goes back to quietly pacing. 

That's when his eyes spot it, on the upper shelf of a potion display rack, a heart shaped bottle full of a pink liquid. Amor Maius, the love enhancer, the hand written description below it reads, continuing, increase your arousal, spend longer with your beloved. His mind wanders back to the Drow twins the other day at Sharess Caress, and how you insisted you hadn’t been interested in their “services” but he’d seen the way your eyes got wide just looking at them, hells, he’d heard your pulse increase. You weren't just slightly interested, you were very much aroused at the thought. It was probably his fault, he’d failed to provide you with release. Even if you protested that sex wasn’t necessary, he remembered how much you enjoyed it, the way your heart would thunder as soon as you two were alone, how wet you got for him, so eager to be filled, having to put his fingers in your mouth to suck on to quiet your noises lest you wake the whole camp. You shouldn’t be expected to live in chastity and it was only a matter of time before you realized you didn’t want a broken thing like him, a thing that couldn’t even give you one of life’s simplest pleasures. But if he could find a way to give that to you…

A quick glance tells him you and the clerk are still thoroughly occupied and he moves along to get a better angle, waiting. The clerk ducks down behind the counter to retrieve something and lightning quick, Astarion is back at the shelf, tucking the bottle in his pack. He takes another loop of the shop and sighs again, just to keep normal appearances. “Astarion,” you scold and he comes to the counter to wrap and arm around your waist and kiss your cheek.

“We’ve been in here forever,” he wheedles and he sees your irritation give way. 

“I know, almost done, then I promise no more errands.” Your hand reaches down to cover his, where it rests against your waist. Every one of your touches fills him with the softest warmth, he couldn’t bear to lose you, and tonight he’ll make sure he won’t. 

The two of you spend the rest of the afternoon wandering around Baldur’s Gate with no real destination, simply chatting and being with each other. It’s lovely to just be in your presence, every so often stopping to kiss you softly and delight in how you wrap your arms around his neck and put your soul into it every time. With night falling you make your way back to the Elfsong and Astarion sends you upstairs to deliver Gale’s damned herbs while he stops to make an inquiry. 

You’ve already got your pack off and seem to be settling in when he finds you. Leaning in, he whispers sultrily into your ear. “The private room is empty tonight, we could go make use of it, if you want.” 

He smiles at the way your breath hitches. “Are you sure,” your eyes meet his, bright with love and concern despite your rising arousal. 

“Absolutely Darling,” you know him so well, he can only hope he's convincing enough. 

"That sounds nice," pretty pink tinges your skin as you take his hand. 

The two of you make your way down the hall, leaving the noisy common room and your companions behind. There's a single bed in the cozy space and a bath in a little adjacent room. Wyll and Karlach have made use of it before, but it's the first time he's dared bring you here. Brushing your hair behind your ear, he trails his fingers down your cheek. "Warm bath, relax a little and see where the night takes us," he suggests, feeling the panic start to rise, knowing what you'll be expecting now. The potion will help, he just needs to get that far. 

“Whatever you feel up to my Love,” you tilt your face to catch his palm in a kiss and your tender care has him fighting back a sob. There’s not a day that you don’t give him everything he could ask for, more than he ever dreamt he could have. 

He has to give you this one thing, he wants to so badly, but already he can feel his mind trying to pull away, to distance itself from his body in anticipation. “Go on ahead, let me get settled. I’ll join you shortly.” 

As soon as you're out of sight, bath water running, he throws open his pack. His chest throbs, like a weight is pushing down on it and the edges of his vision are going blurry, he needs that damn potion now. Somehow it slipped under the rest of the contents in his pack. "Damn," he mutters, violently tossing things around until a pink glint is revealed. Salvation. 

Quickly he snatches it up, scrambling to get the stopper out. Pausing for a second, it occurs to him that he doesn't know how much to take. He'll just down some and sneak off if he needs more he decides. The taste is sickly sweet and it burns all the way down his throat. For a moment he pauses, waiting for it to kick in, worried it isn’t what it promised. Then it’s like every color in the room is a thousand times more vibrant and he can smell the intoxicating scent of you from here. Already he’s growing hard, hand idly reaching down to stroke himself, and then the world goes black. 

When next he wakes he’s staring at the ceiling, head throbbing. Did he just pass out? “Are you finally back?” You’re right next to him, and gods, you don’t sound happy. The missing moments start to come in flashes, the bath, his hands all over you, the bed, and then you telling him to stop. A light, a spell, you’d done something to stop him. 

“I…” What is there to even say? 

“What in the hells were you thinking Astarion?! I found the bottle. I'm not stupid, I know what that was. Why?” Not only are you furious with him, but there’s so much sadness in your voice too. 

 “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, rolling on his side to face away from you, he can’t bear to look at you right now. 

“Do you even know what you’re apologizing for?” The edge has come off your voice, you probably think he’s too pathetic to waste your anger on.

"Lying,” he asks instead of answering. 

Sighing, you put a hand delicately on his shoulder. “I trusted you to be truthful with me. How can I do the right thing when you do something like this?”

“I wanted to make you happy, to give you everything. I just needed a little help to get there,” he pulls his knees up to his chest, making himself as small as possible, an old habit of self-preservation. Tears are starting to threaten, as if he hadn't embarrassed himself enough. 

“Astarion,” your voice is unexpectedly gentle, “are you able to keep talking?”

Desperately, he wants to, to keep explaining himself but he feels like he's drowning. His mouth opens but nothing comes out. He can feel you shifting around on the bed, like you want to lean over to comfort him but hold back. Another blow he’ll endure. Everything seems like it’s slipping away from him. But you’re full of surprising mercy. “Can I hold you? Just nod.” He does as you say, not daring to look up, and your arms loops around him as the soothing weight of your presence presses against his back. 

The two of you lay there in silence for a long time, you don’t press him anymore but you don’t abandon him either. Soft kisses on his shoulders keep him from unraveling completely.  Finally he finds his voice. “I didn’t mean for it to be like this.” 

“Did you think how I’d feel if I found out I hurt you?” 

“I-I,” his mind races, what answer is right, what will appease you. “No, I was just scared to lose you.” Finally he settles on the truth, plainly spoken, because he can’t make things any worse than they are. "Because I can't give you something so simple."

“Part of me is angry that you think so little of me,” he starts to protest and you shush him, “but I know it’s hard for you.” Warm fingers entangle with his and he lets himself hope. “I’ll say it one more time, and I need you to believe me. Starry Sky, if we never have sex again, you’re worth it. But you can’t do anything like this to me anymore.” 

He wants to believe, with all his heart, it’s just so hard. He nods, “I promise.”

Your lips caress his cheek and he closes his eyes, drinking the feeling in. "Do you want to go back to the other room?" 

Thoughts of having to go back, to lose you to the noise and the attention of others are too much. "Could we stay here, just for a little while?" 

“We can stay here as long as you want.” He turns over, burying his head in your chest, suddenly desperate for the feel of you. 

Soothing fingers brush through his hair, and your hand gently strokes his back. He knows he should believe you, knows you love him more than he ever thought possible, but the shadows and darkness inside still whisper that he's not enough, not the way he is. 

[worth-the-chaos]

Adventures in Babysitting - Steve Harrington x female!reader - Chapter 16

Chapter Summary: For all your encounters with the Upside Down you hadn’t had to deal with it directly. Now, in a fight in foreign territory, you and your friends must struggle to find your way back to the Hawkins that you are familiar with.

Content Warning: swearing, upside down freaky shit, blood/injury, trauma, angst

Word Count: 9.7k

Author’s Note: Yo sorry this has taken a while for me to finish, life has been low key a bit of a bummer recently. Also, (from the time I posted this) about 20 minutes ago I nearly deleted this. Like all of it. In a way that would have been borderline unrecoverable. So I think I deserve a cookie and a pat on the back for not doing that.

Message me to be added to the taglist and get updated when the next chapter is posted! I highly recommend this if you want to keep up with the story since I don’t do regular updates!

Series Masterlist | Part 15 | Next Part

***

The water stung your eyes and you could only make out blurry shapes. You had never been the strongest swimmer and you were scared out of your mind that you would drown before you made it to Steve, but you didn’t care as you kicked your legs as hard as you could. You could make out red light radiating from a spot on the bottom of the lake and you redirected yourself towards it. That had to be the gate that Steve had seen, and he was no doubt on the other side of it, fighting for his life.

You pushed through the permeable membrane of the gate that seemed to pulse as if it was alive, shoving your way into the unknown. You were immediately met with the frigid sting of the cold air, but you could barely feel it as your eyes were immediately glued to your boyfriend, being attacked by several bat-like creatures.

“Steve!” You shouted as your instincts kicked in, grabbing an oar from a shipwrecked boat and smacking one of the creatures away from his side. The winged monster screeched and it was nearly enough to make your ears bleed. Suddenly, Robin, Nancy, and Eddie were right behind you, each with their own improvised weapons.

“Quick! Hold it, Robin!” Nancy shouted as her friend moved you pin the bat strangling your boyfriend down. Both you and Nancy continued to strike it with all of your might in an attempt to get it to release its grip around Steve’s neck but it seemed like it was no use.

“Come on!” You shouted, your eyes welling with tears as you became increasingly panicked by the second. You made eye contact with Eddie, your eyes begging for him to intervene. “Do something!” You yelled out, though you weren’t quite sure if your words were meant for your friends or yourself.

You could hear Steve struggling for air as he continued to choke under the pressure of the strangulation. And you felt your heart sink halfway to hell at the way his legs were flailing in every direction, his hands in an iron clad grip on the creature’s tail wrapped around his neck.

“Y/n! Behind you!” Eddie yelled out and all of the sudden you were knocked off kilter by a force from behind, claws digging into the tender skin of your back through your soaking wet clothes. You screamed out in pain, desperately reaching behind you trying to pry the thing off, but it was to no avail.

“Robin! Help!” You shrieked and she grabbed onto the bat’s tail, yanking at it harshly. You cried out in pain as her efforts to remove the monster caused its talons to dig further into your skin as it resisted her attempt to thwart its attack.

She finally was able to yank it free, slamming it into the ground as Nancy struck it with her oar. You turned to see that Steve was now standing and you almost cried out in relief that he was okay, but you were still very much in the thick of the fight and you weren’t about to celebrate too soon.

Steve continued slamming the bat back and forth on the ground until he finally stepped on one of its wings, pulling aggressively on its tail causing the monster to be ripped in two. He panted as he attempted to regain control of his breathing.

“Steve!” You called you, running towards your boyfriend as tears welled in your eyes. Your hands hovered over his body, afraid to touch him as you took in the sight of all of his wounds. He had deep gashes on his abdomen, skin missing from where the bats had been feeding on him. Your breath started to pick up, beginning to panic at the extent of his injuries. You didn’t care if you were the one to get hurt, but seeing Steve injured like that in such a life threatening scenario was enough to make you break down. “Baby,” your lip wobbled and a tear rolled down your cheek as you looked him in the eyes.

“Are you okay?” Nancy frantically asked, her eyes scanning over Steve’s body to assess the damage, gasping as she understood the severity.

“They took about a pound of flesh,” Steve replied and goosebumps erupted over your entire body, “but other than that, never better.”

Steve looked you in the eye as he added the last bit, clearly attempting to calm you down. Inside he was absolutely scared shitless, but he figured the better he did at maintaining a calm exterior, the less upset you would be. You didn’t even know how to respond, so instead of trying to formulate any words, you decided to pull him in for a gentle hug, being careful not to disturb his wounds.

He pulled you in tighter, not caring about his injuries and just needing more than anything to hold onto you. He swayed side to side as he rested his chin on the top of your head, knowing that whatever pain and scarring that followed was worth it if it meant that all of his efforts would contribute to saving your life.

“Uh, do you guys think that these bats have, like, rabies?” Robin suddenly spoke up. She was crouched down, inspecting a creature’s lifeless body.

“What?” Steve asked as his face contorted in confusion. Everyone turned to look at her with a very similar expression, her question seeming so out of place given everything that had just transpired.

“It’s just that rabies are like my number one greatest fear and I think we should probably get you to a doctor really soon because once the symptoms set in, it’s too late; you’re already dead,” she rambled on. Before anyone could respond to her, more screeching rang out from above you. Several more bats were flying in, no doubt responding to the casualties of their fellow creatures at the hands of trespassers. They flocked to the opening of the gate, sitting perched on the mess of vines, waiting for the next thing that unwittingly found itself stuck in this alternate dimension.

“Alright. There’s not that many. We can take ‘em, right?” Steve breathed out, gently nudging you behind him to protect you. You curled an arm around his, desperately clinging to him. In the past, every time you had fought off the supernatural, it had been on home turf. You were afraid of the odds now that they had the home advantage.

In the distance, more nauseating shrieks sounded off and through the lightning in the unnaturally red sky, you could see an entire swarm of the bat-like creatures approaching. “You were saying?” The words escaped your lips as you stared in awe at the monsters.

“The woods! Come on!” Nancy pointed toward the thicket of crooked branches, and the five of you took off running. You sprinted as fast as your legs could take you, but being less than coordinated, you stumbled a bit as you tried to keep up with your athletic boyfriend. He was quick to help you right yourself, making sure you were in front of him until you reached the tree line.

He felt his heart nearly stop when he noticed the blood soaking through the back of your shirt. He immediately felt guilt swarm in his emotions, wishing that he hadn’t brought you into this mess. Everything he did was to make sure you wouldn’t get hurt, and here he was, bringing you straight into the crossfire.

You had reached the forest, slowing down to a quick walk as you made your way farther and farther into the woods. You were still trying to catch your breath from running when Steve spoke up.

“Baby, your back,” his voice cracked a little as the words came out, and you could tell that he was mentally kicking himself for that fact that you had gotten hurt.

“Oh, Steve, it’s okay,” he opened his mouth to protest but you were quick to cut him off, “seriously. It doesn’t even really hurt; I swear.” It was a lie, but he didn’t need to know that. Besides, it’s not like you hadn’t gotten ripped to shreds by an inter dimensional creature in the past. This was not your first rodeo.

He stared at you in disbelief, but didn’t argue. “Let me see it at least,” he offered a compromise, to which you couldn’t really say no. You walked a few steps ahead of him and lifted up your shirt, revealing the expanse of your back. Steve struggled to swallow the lump in his throat as he assessed the damage. Deep gashes littered your back and it was caked in blood that was beginning to dry. You shivered as the cool air hit your skin, and Steve hurried towards you to pull your shirt back down.

He thought about the scars on your arm from the Byers’ living room. He thought about the way that he had just let you go back into that house. Steve had never quite gotten over the guilt of not immediately running back in to help you. He thought back to how your immediate instinct had been to care for others, always acting in compassion and selflessness.

“Y/n, what are you doing?”

“Steve, we can’t leave, are you kidding me? They’re in way over their heads. They need help.”

“It’s too dangerous. I don’t want you in there. It’s not up for discussion,” Steve argued, stepping around the door and reaching out to grab your wrist again. You quickly stepped back, pulling your hands out of his reach.

“Y/n, you’re not going back in there. I’m not joking.”

“Neither am I,” you shot back, turning back towards the door. You heard him call out your name again, but you were already through the front door, back in the discomfort of the Byers’ family room.

Steve watched you enter the house and felt his chest tighten. He couldn’t quite place the feeling because he’d never quite felt that way before. It was like a deeply rooted panic; like something was about to go horribly wrong.

He tried to shove it aside as he fumbled with his keys again, pulling the car door open. His heart still felt like it was sinking in his chest. His mind quickly flashed to how surprised he had been that you had knocked on his door. He thought about the fact that you must’ve walked all over town trying to find the Henderson boy. He thought about the fact that you had responded in compassion rather than condescension when he told you about what happened with Nancy.

You had every reason to not give him the benefit of the doubt, but you did anyway. He looked back at the house once more and the lights suddenly came to life, haphazardly flashing in a display of colorful chaos. With each flash of color, he could see your silhouette outlined through the shades adorning the front window of the Byers’ residence. By all accounts you should have been trembling, scared out of your mind, but to Steve you looked stoic.

He had a feeling that this was just the beginning of your story together, and he wasn’t about to let it end prematurely. He slammed the car door shut and sprinted towards the front door.

When he threw it open, he was thrust into the middle of the attack. His heart stopped when he noticed the way you were pinned to the floor, shrieking in pain as the creature’s claws were digging roughly into the skin of your arm.

“Give me that!” Steve yelled, ripping the bat out of Jonathan’s hand. He had been staring dumbfounded at the monster, petrified by his own fear. Steve reared back and swung as hard as he could, landing a solid hit to the creature’s side and knocking it off balance. He would never be able to describe the relief he felt as he saw you roll out of the way, no longer confined to the monster’s viselike hold.

Seeing the gashes on your back now just reminded him of the fact that had he acted sooner, had he simply followed you back in the house immediately rather than nearly bailing on you, the scars that littered your arm wouldn’t even be there. You’d have been safe. You wouldn’t have passed out and needed to go to the hospital. You wouldn’t have had to continue wearing long sleeves in public to avoid stares and questions.

You would have been okay.

But he didn’t go back in immediately. And now you had more scars because he didn’t just get out of the damn water quick enough.

Suddenly your voice registered in his consciousness, and he whipped his head around to attend to it.

“Steve? Hey, baby, you disappeared for a second there. Are you okay?” you inquired, staring up at him with the sweetest look on your face, so sweet in fact that Steve could’ve probably dropped to one knee and proposed right then and there. Guilt tore at his chest in a way that was much more painful that the physical damage those bats had done.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. No, I’m fine; just thinking, is all,” he replied, trying his best to sound nonchalant, not really needing you to know the weight he had been carrying since that fateful day.

You didn’t really believe him, but there wasn’t really time to talk about it as the bats had reached the tree line and you all had to break out into a sprint to avoid another attack.

***

You all crouched under Skull Rock in the Upside Down and you couldn’t help but feel uneasy at how weird it all was. You thought about all the time that Will spent in this place and you felt like you could throw up. He was just a kid. You were basically an adult and you could barely handle being down there; you couldn’t imagine how he had been able to survive it.

For your sanity, you shoved the thought away.

The shrieking of the bats dissipated as they finally cleared from the area. “That was close,” Robin sighed, releasing the breath she’d been holding as you all stood up.

“Yeah, too close,” Eddie complained, his eyes wide considering the fact that he was thrust into all of this. The rest of you had at least had enough experience with all of this crazy shit that nothing could really surprise you too much anymore. You were sure that Eddie was probably about to go insane with the impossibility of it all.

Suddenly, Steve stumbled, falling harshly against the side of the rock formation as he tried to steady himself.

“Steve?!” You shouted out, running to your boyfriend as he pushed himself back to a somewhat upright position.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he promised you, but you weren’t believing it for a second.

“No, no, no. You’re not. You’re losing blood!” You cried out, tears beginning to cloud your vision. “Come on; sit, please,” you begged him. Combined with the fact that he could barely stand anyway, your teary eyes were enough to make him comply. You tore a strip of fabric from the bottom of your shirt, hesitating as you looked at the severity of his wound.

You sniffled a bit before asking him, “you ready?”

“Just do it,” he replied, squeezing his eyes shut as he awaited the pain he knew would inevitably follow as you bandaged his injury. His heart broke at your whispered apologies as you wrapped the fabric tightly around his torso. After you secured the fabric, you leaned into him, wrapping him in a tight hug. You placed a small and gentle kiss to his neck before pulling away. “Thank you,” he whispered, and he wasn’t sure if he was thanking you for the bandage or the show of affection, but he decided it was both.

“So, uh,” your attention was drawn to Eddie, who had climbed on top of Skull Rock, “this place is like Hawkins but with monsters and nasty shit?”

“Pretty much,” you answered as you wrapped an arm around Steve’s back to brace him while he regained his balance. Eddie paused for a moment before he began to get down. “Wait! Watch out for the vines!” You were quick to add before he could even take a single step.

“It’s all a hive mind,” Nancy quickly explained, recognizing just how dire this situation could become. You didn’t know what you were supposed to do if one of you misstepped and brought on an army of monsters directly fucking to you.

“It’s what?”

“All of the creepy crawlies around here, dude. They’re like one or something. You step on a vine, you’re stepping on a bat, you’re stepping on Vecna,” Steve explained and though it wasn’t the most eloquent explanation, Eddie got the point and carefully maneuvered around the vines covering the iconic rock. If Steve had cared even a modicum more about school, he could probably tutor Eddie way better than you could.

“But everything from our world is still here right? Like besides the people?” Robin asked, her mind quickly trying to hatch a plan.

“As far as I understand, yeah,” you confirmed, looking at her with a bit of hope forming in your chest at the way her gears were clearly turning.

“So, theoretically, we could go to the police station and get guns and grenades and whatever we need to blow up those bat things that are guarding the gate.”

“I highly doubt that the Hawkins PD has grenades, Robin, but guns, yeah sure,” Steve responded, a hint of annoyance in his voice. You shot him a look that screamed “be nice” but you decided that you would give him a little bit of slack considering the fact that he was probably about two minutes away from dying if you guys didn’t show up when you did to save him. You felt like you could vomit at the thought.

“We don’t have to go all the way downtown for guns, I have guns…in my bedroom,” Nancy spoke up and looked between all of you.

“You, Nancy Wheeler, have guns—plural—in your bedroom?” Eddie asked incredulously. Eddie didn’t know the half of it. Wait until he found out that you had guns too (but Steve didn’t really know about that either).

“A Russian Makarov and a revolver,” Nancy confirmed.

“Yeah, you almost shot me with that one,” you reminded her, your mind flashing back to the way she’d pointed the revolver in your face as you had tried to deescalate the situation. In hindsight, there was absolutely no way in hell that you could have calmed that situation down.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Nancy replied sheepishly, and you just shot her a smile that let her know that she was forgiven…it would be kind of hard not to forgive her given the circumstances. Suddenly, something flashed across your face as Eddie’s denim vest hit Steve across the chest with a thud.

“For your modesty,” he glared at your boyfriend and you couldn’t help but chuckle. The levity didn’t last long as the ground began to shake. You stumbled, nearly falling, but Steve caught you and pulled you into him as you both braced yourself agains the side of the rock. You spun around in his arms, burying your face in his chest and clinging to him. Everything about this place was so unpredictable; he was your only constant.

“You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” Steve whispered into your ear as the ground continued to rumble and ripple underneath your feet. “I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere, baby. I love you.” He placed a small kiss to your temple. You tried to take deep breaths to calm down, beginning to settle as you focused on the way that Steve’s arm felt around you. You tried to imagine yourself in his bed, lying together on a lazy Saturday morning, pressed into his bare chest.

The earthquake slowed to a stop and snarling and screeching sounded in the distance. You shuddered, goosebumps erupting over your entire body as you pressed yourself further into Steve.

“So guns seem like a pretty good idea to me,” Eddie finally spoke up, Robin nodding aggressively beside him as they both began sitting up from their place on the ground. You took a deep breath as you looked up at Steve, worry tugging at the corners of your lips. There was so much you wanted to say to him as you looked up into his brown eyes, but instead, you pulled away, grabbing his hand and pulling him alongside you as you and your friends took off towards Nancy’s house.

***

Steve watched as you walked ahead of him, talking with Nancy and Robin as you tried to formulate a more thorough game plan. While you all considered what ifs and discussed the pertinent unknowns about the Upside Down, Steve fell into step with Eddie.

“Hey, Eddie,” Steve finally spoke up to get his attention, “Hey, man, I just want to say thanks…for saving my ass back there.”

“Shit, you saved your own ass, man,” Eddie replied, “I mean, that was a real Ozzy move you pulled back there.”

“Ozzy?”

“When you took a bite out of that bat.” When Steve looked at him confused, Eddie continued, “Ozzy Osbourne? Black Sabbath? He bit a bat’s head off onstage? You know?”

“No.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Eddie trailed off, shaking his head. “It’s very metal what you did, that’s all I’m saying...Y/n told me you were a badass—insisted on the matter, in fact.”

“Wait, she said that?” Steve confirmed, not quite believing his ears. Though he hated to admit it, he couldn’t help but feel jealousy deep within his chest when he thought about the fact that you were tutoring Eddie.

Steve always just thought about all the times that he would quiz you to help you prepare for tests and how cute you looked when you were trying to remember something. Or how you were so sweet and patient with him when he was barely going to graduate and you helped him get a high enough mark in his history class. To know that Ms. O’Donell had set you and Eddie up as study buddies was nearly enough to make his blood boil. How long was it going to take you to realize that he wasn’t good enough for you anymore? How long was it going to be until you decided you needed something new and exciting, like resident bad boy Eddie Munson?

“Are you kidding? She worships you, dude,” Eddie explained, “you have no idea…it’s kind of annoying, to be honest. I don’t know why I care what she thinks, but, uh, guess I got a little jealous, Steve.”

Steve whipped his head up, anger beginning to grow in his chest as he tried to decipher what Eddie meant. Was he jealous because he was into you? Because that was simply not going to happen.

“I guess I couldn’t accept the fact that Steve Harrington was actually a good dude,” Eddie continued. Steve released the breath he’d been holding as he realized Eddie’s jealousy lied elsewhere. “Rich parents, popular, chicks love him. Not a douche? No way, man. No way. That like flies in the face of all the laws in the universe, and my own personal Munson doctrine.”

Steve didn’t know what to say. He was honestly a bit flattered by Eddie’s statement because it confirmed that he had changed for the better. Steve never felt like he was enough for you, but maybe—just maybe—he was becoming the kind of person that could be. Eddie quickly pulled him out of his thoughts as he leaned in and spoke up again.

“Still super jealous as hell, by the way. Which is why I would never have jumped in that lake to save your ass. Not under any, uh…normal circumstances. Nope. Outside of D&D I am no hero; I see danger and I just turn heel and run, or at least that’s what I’ve learned about myself this week.”

“Give yourself a break, man,” Steve gave Eddie a sympathetic look. He wasn’t quite sure if he was saying it for Eddie’s benefit or his own as his mind flashed back to the way he was about to run that fateful day at Jonathan’s house.

“See, the only reason I came in here was ‘cause those ladies came in straight after you,” Eddie explained, his expression set in a way that made it clear he was serious. He gestured ahead to the three of you girls, walking alongside each other. “I was too ashamed to be the one that stayed behind. But y/n? She didn’t waste a second. She just dove right in. That was as unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen.”

Steve felt his stomach drop at Eddie’s words as he thought about the lengths you would go to keep him safe. It didn’t sit right with him and he was internally panicking at the thought of you putting yourself in harm’s way for him. His thoughts were interrupted as the ground began shaking again. His heart stopped as he watched the way that you refused to brace yourself, instead bounding forward into the clearing just past the trees. In the distance, you could see Nancy’s house and your stomach dropped at the sight of it. There wasn’t any way to describe it other than that it looked…wrong.

You jumped a bit as you felt a hand on your shoulder, relaxing slightly as you realized it was just Steve. You turned and looked up into his brown eyes, worry etched across your face. He looked tired and you knew that you probably looked the same. You were racing against time and fate and you weren’t sure this was the type of disaster that you would both make it out on the other side.

This time felt like an ending, and it felt inevitable. You shoved the thought down and swallowed the lump in your throat as you turned away and pushed forward.

“Hey,” you heard Steve’s voice as you felt a hand wrap around your wrist, slowing you down slightly. The rest of the group continued on, clearly reading the tension in the air and wanting no part in it.

“What?” The word came out more exasperated than you had originally intended. You could see Steve bristle at your attitude, and you watched as he took a deep breath, clearly trying to push aside his irritation.

“I just…you…you’re like really being impulsive right now, okay?” Steve finally settled on the words, knowing that they were probably very much the wrong ones, and his voice was tinted with annoyance. He hated that he felt like he couldn’t just talk to you; he never used to feel that way.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Your eyes narrowed as a quiet rage built in your chest.

Steve looked at you for a second, his eyes wandering across your face as he took the time to think about what he really wanted to say, his conversation with Eddie at the forefront of his mind.

“Eddie told me about how you dove in right after me. You can’t do that shit, y/n.” Steve warned you, his voice low as he tried to stay calm.

You scoffed, in disbelief of the words coming out of your boyfriend’s mouth. “Are you serious right now? What the hell did you expect me to do, Harrington? I wasn’t going to fucking let you drown! If-if we hadn’t gotten there when we did, you would have…” your voice trailed off, unable to verbalize the fate that Steve had narrowly avoided.

“It doesn’t matter, y/n,” Steve shook his head at you, his eyes locked onto yours. “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you. Especially if it was because you were trying to protect me. I want to protect you.”

“How is that fair, Steve?” Your eyes began welling up with tears, the anger slipping away from your tone replaced with a deeply rooted sorrow that tore at your chest.

“None of this is fair,” Steve’s voice failed him as his words came out in a whisper. It was weird standing across from him in this moment. Suddenly you felt like the girl that knocked on his door that November evening your sophomore year. You felt a pang in your chest as you thought about the chaos that brought you together, doubt creeping up in your throat.

Did Steve only love you because you were just victims of circumstance? If none of that had ever happened, would you have just been some girl he wouldn’t take the time to care to remember? How long was it going to be before he woke up and realized that there was someone better than you out there for him?

How long would it be until he was no longer yours?

A tear rolled down your cheek and you felt guilt flood your veins as Steve wiped it away, his hand moving to cup your face as he looked into your eyes. You tried and failed to swallow the lump in your throat, a small sob escaping your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut tight and turned your head to the side. Looking at him with all that love in his eyes was too much to bear.

“Hey, hey, hey,” his voice was soft as he brought his other hand underneath your chin to bring you back to him. “Would you please just look at me baby? Come on, let me see those pretty eyes.”

You were falling apart and you didn’t know how anything or anyone could pick up the pieces.

“Talk to me,” his voice was a whisper. “Please.”

Your eyes were still shut tight, but you could feel his lips ghost over the skin of your neck as he dipped his head down to place a gentle kiss below your ear. His hands had dropped from your face, pulling at your waist until you were pressed together. He swayed gently from side to side, moving to cradle the nape of your neck in his hand as you buried your face in his neck. You inhaled deeply, trying to take in his scent, the only familiar thing about this foreign land.

“I’m just scared,” you whispered, gasping in air afterwards, barely in control of your own voice. You finally looked up at him and your watery eyes were enough for him to break.

“Me too,” he admitted. You took a deep breath and pulled away from him. He nodded at you and reached out to grab your hand while you rejoined your friends who were a ways ahead of you now. You were glad they were willing to give you guys the privacy you needed to figure out all of your bullshit emotions. Young love was usually messy, but it typically didn’t involve monsters and near death experiences. As Steve walked beside you, you noticed the deep bruise around his neck and thought back to the viselike grip that bat had him in and you shuddered.

When you reached Nancy’s front door you felt nauseous as you watched the way vines crawled up every wall, wrapping around her front porch. You took a careful step over a vine pulsing beneath your feet, wondering just how fast Vecna would know you were there with one misstep.

You wondered how fast everything would be over. If he would just take care of you then and there. Your hand went to the walkman in your pocket, still dry, sealed in its plastic bag. Steve’s hand darted out and gripped yours in his, his fingers interlocking with yours. He felt unsteady as he used his other hand to point the flashlight into the dark entryway of the Wheeler residence.

It was all ash and rot and vines, and it made you sick to your stomach.

“Might be time to hire a maid, Wheeler,” Robin attempted to lighten the mood but to no avail.

“Come on. I don’t want to stay here any longer than we have to,” she replied, and you didn’t blame her. You were glad you weren’t at your house; you didn’t think you’d ever be able to look at it the same again if you saw it in the state that Nancy’s was.

You all carefully made your way up the stairs, but you felt a tug on your hand halfway up and you turned around confused, Steve lagging behind and looking out over the banister.

“Steve, come on,” you shook his hand and he quickly whipped around to face you. He stared at you blankly, dropping your hand before responding.

“You head up there, I’ll be right behind you.”

You felt your chest tighten at his words. “Steve—“

“Y/n, just trust me, okay?”

The sincerity in his eyes is what caused you to cave as you took a deep, shaky breath and turned away from him, leaving him behind.

You joined your friends at Nancy’s desk where she was removing the lid of a shoebox to reveal…well, shoes.

“Those aren’t guns,” Eddie pointed out the obvious.

“These heels are pointy, but I was hoping for something more along the lines of a deadly projectile,” Robin stared at Nancy with intensity, the plan you had all crafted slowly falling apart before your eyes.

“I don’t understand,” Nancy whispered, her brow furrowed as she inspected the shoes.

“Maybe you left them somewhere else,” you offered, trying to keep the last little bit of hope you had in your chest alive.

“There’s a six-year-old in the house. I know where I keep my guns,” Nancy breathed out, looking at you with desperation. You knew the feeling. “And also, I threw these away years ago.”

The spark of hope fizzled out, turning to dread as you picked up a stack of index cards, clearly from one of Kaminsky’s insanely difficult chem tests your sophomore year. You felt a bit of jealousy tear at your heart, knowing that Steve used to quiz Nancy for that class. You had sat a row behind her and spent the rest of the year trying to push that envy down in your chest as he walked her to class each day. You took a deep breath and reminded yourself that was over…but why had Nancy kept the flashcards? She was going into journalism.

Nothing made sense.

“Nancy…” you started off slow, afraid of the dots you were connecting. “These are from sophomore chemistry.”

“A-and…and this wallpaper…this is old wallpaper. And this mirror went to a yard sale!” Nancy darted around the room, pointing out all of the inconsistencies with the state of her room and the sinking feeling in your stomach grew.

She suddenly picked up a journal and started furiously flipping through pages, stopping dead in her tracks as she reached the last entry.

“Nancy, you’re scaring me,” Robin spoke up. You couldn’t help but feel the same.

“I think the reason my guns aren’t here is because they don’t exist yet.” She turned towards you and held up the closed book. “This diary should be full of entries but it’s not. The last entry is November 6th, 1983.”

You shuddered, goosebumps erupting over your entire body. “The day Will went missing,” you whispered. “We’re in the past.”

You all stared at each other wide eyed, trying to comprehend the implications of your discovery. Your moment was cut short when you heard Steve’s voice ring out, yelling. You felt like you could vomit as you cursed yourself for leaving him behind, sprinting down the stairs and bumping your hip on the corner of the banister in the process.

You hissed in pain, but you didn’t let it stop you from flying around the corner, where you were met with the sight of your boyfriend screaming out into the empty room.

“Dustin? Hello? Hello? Dustin?!”

“Maybe he really does have rabies,” Robin spoke and you elbowed her in the side, not thrilled with her joke.

“Steve? Baby, what are you doing?” You slowly approached him. He whipped around, shining his flashlight in your eyes.

“He’s here. Henderson. That little shit, he-he’s here. He’s like…in the walls or something. Just listen,” Steve explained through gasps of air. He began calling out to Henderson again, his flashlight searching around the room as if the boy would appear.

You were about to go retrieve your boyfriend from his obvious psychotic break when Dustin’s voice suddenly filled your ears. He sounded far away, but Steve was right. It was him.

He was here.

Your heart sank in your chest at the thought that Dustin might be in this alternate dimension with you. You began frantically searching the room looking for him as you all shouted his name.

“Alright, either this kid can’t hear us or he’s being a total douchebag,” Steve spoke up and you rolled your eyes.

“Will. He found a way to speak to Joyce through the lights,” Nancy explained, quickly trying to flip switches on lamps to see if anything would happen.

You spun around quickly, ready to try any other lights in the room, when you noticed a shimmer around the overhead light of the Wheelers’ kitchen table. It looked like magic and you couldn’t take your eyes off of it as it pulsed and wavered in the otherwise dark world you were in.

“Guys,” you breathed out, and Steve shined his flashlight up at the light fixture. You slowly reached your hands towards it and you could feel the way the particles in the air swirled around your fingertips, feeling a sense of electricity in your nerves as the lights pulsed on and off.

Your friends all joined you, each taking a turn to investigate the strange phenomena laid out before you. “It…kinda tickles,” Eddie spoke up, and in any other situation you would have laughed at Hawkins High’s biggest metalhead making a comment like that.

“Does anyone know morse code?” You asked, knowing that Dustin knew it like the back of his hand.

Robin and Nancy both shook their heads and your heart began to sink. It was all useless if no one knew how to properly communicate.

“Wait,” Eddie spoke up, “does SOS count?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed, stepping aside to give Eddie room to tap out the code in the light fixture. Steve’s hand found the small of your back and you allowed yourself to smile up at him for a moment.

Maybe things were looking up after all.

***

You all sat with bated breath as you crowded around the side of Nancy’s bed. You ran your fingers through your hair, the anticipation making you almost want to pull it out. Steve wrapped a hand around your waist, squeezing your side as a signal to calm down.

It was sweet, but it didn’t really help.

“Come on, come on,” Steve whispered, his voice sounding desperate. He let his hand slip from your waist, allowing it to slide down your back and towards your back pocket, needing to check for himself that the walkman was still there. After he confirmed it was, he let his hand linger there a little longer, before slipping his hand into your other back pocket.

Steve’s love language was physical touch. There was no doubt about it. But you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the fact that his need to have a hand on your ass outweighed the fact that you were in a scary as fuck alternate dimension.

“Are you guys seeing this?” Dustin’s voice rang out, echoing throughout the bedroom. Suddenly, you were staring into the shimmer from before, and you reached your hand out to touch it, desperately needing to find that warmth again in this cold, unforgiving place.

“Holy shit!” Erica exclaimed. You cringed as you thought about how she had been brought into this mess again too. You tried to shove the thought aside. You didn’t want to feed the guilt that Vecna was exploiting.

“Okay, we’re gonna unplug it but leave it there…try it now!” Dustin’s voice filled the room again.

Your hands hesitantly reached out towards the bed, hoping with all your heart that your message would translate to the Lite-Brite the kids had. You shakily wrote out the letters, cringing at how shaky your handwriting looked from how nervous you were.

Suddenly, Dustin’s laughter filled your ears. “It worked!”

You released the breath you didn’t even realize you’d been holding, and you just wished that you could somehow travel across time and space to give the Henderson boy a hug.

You wracked your brain trying to think of how to quickly explain what was going on. You decided on the word “stuck,” writing it out as fast as you could.

“They’re stuck in the Upside Down,” this time it was Lucas’s voice filling the room, echoes drifting through the open space. It was disorienting and it would be scary if it wasn’t the goofball kids you’d come to know and love.

“You can’t get back through Watergate?” Dustin asked.

“What the hell’s Watergate?” Your boyfriend turned to you, looking completely and utterly lost. You grabbed onto his hand, rubbing your thumb across the back of it as you looked up at him lovingly (and somewhat pitifully too, if you were being honest).

“Because it’s in the water and it’s a gate...” Robin explained so that you didn’t have to.

“Oh, that’s cute,” Eddie joked, and you rolled your eyes. You weren’t sure why Dustin had such an affinity for coming up with dumbass nicknames for the component parts of the Upside Down, but unfortunately he did.

G-U-A-R-D-E-D, you spelled out in the shimmer in front of you.

“We think we have a theory that can help with that,” Dustin spoke up and your heart soared. You didn’t want to spend any more time here than you had too, desperate for some sort of escape. “We think Watergate isn’t the only gate; that there’s a gate at every murder site.”

You felt your stomach drop at his words, your mind suddenly being pulled back towards your seemingly inevitable fate. You barely heard your friends discussing what Dustin could possibly mean. Their voices sounded faint and far away as you tried and failed to calm yourself down. Steve squeezed your hand, breaking you away from your thoughts and shooting you a look that said “are you okay?” to which you nodded. He didn’t really believe you, but he guessed that now wasn’t the time to argue as he watched Nancy draw out a question mark.

“Seriously guys? How many times do I have to be right on the money before you trust me?” The boy sounded exasperated and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“This kid’s gotta get his ego in check,” Steve spoke up, a look of disgust plastered across his face.

“I know! It’s his tone!” You complained. Steve opened his mouth again to continue your conversation about the Henderson boy when Robin cut you off.

“Hey, can you two stop talking about your pseudo-son and can we get back to figuring how the hell to get out of here, please and thanks?”

“How far is your trailer?” You turned to ask Eddie.

“Seven miles.”

“Uh, I know your house here is like weirdly, creepily frozen in time and shit, but haven’t you always had bikes?” Robin asked.

Nancy didn’t say anything, quickly leading you all back down the stairs towards the garage, no doubt to find the bikes in question.

“This reminds me of when I taught you how to ride a bike,” Steve spoke up, a smirk plastered across his face. You smacked him in the arm and rolled your eyes as your face heated up, thinking back to the time he was describing.

It was the spring of your junior year, after Tina’s Halloween party and Dart and the tunnels. Your parents had picked up a lot of extra shifts and were gone most of the time, so you were staying at Steve’s pretty frequently.

He was driving you back to his house after school when he finally broke your comfortable silence, turning the radio down.

“Hey!” You whined, reaching forward to turn the song you had been humming along to back up, but he grabbed your hand and gently pushed it away. “I was listening to that, you know.”

“I’ve been thinking…” he started, and for a second you were worried he was going to ask you out. You felt your heart start racing and your palms start sweating as you tried to think of what you’d even say. It seemed way too soon; after all, him and Nancy had pretty much just broken up a few months ago, and you didn’t want to be some rebound for him to dump once someone better came along, besides, what if it ruined your friendship or—

Your thoughts were cut short when he finished his sentence, “I think it’s about time I taught you how to ride a bike.”

You stared at him dumbfounded, barely believing the words that had exited his mouth. “You’re fucking joking, right?”

“No, I’m dead serious, y/n.”

You chuckled, but it awkwardly died in your throat when you realized he was looking at you very, very seriously. “Why? Like pardon my French, but what the fuck?”

At this point he was pulling into his driveway, putting the car in park and turning towards you. He grabbed one of your hands before he spoke up again. His fingers toyed with yours as he stared down at them, too embarrassed by what he was about to say to make eye contact with you.

“It’s just that….ugh, I don’t know. It’s hard to explain,” he mumbled, and immediately alarm bells were going off in your brain. Steve didn’t get like this; he was confident, he said what he thought, and that was that. The fact that he seemed to be at a loss for words was more than a little concerning.

You pulled your hand away from his and you moved your hands to the sides of his face, tilting his head up to look him in the eyes. “Steve, what is going on? You’re scaring me.”

“I just think about how Dustin ran off from you in the fall when all that shit was going down and how you had to run after him. With all the crazy, fucked up shit that goes on here, I just would feel a little bit better if you at least had a more reliable form of transportation other than walking everywhere.”

You giggled a bit, and Steve glared at you, clearly not happy with that response. “Steve, I’m fine, I swear. I get around just fine.”

Your words didn’t seem to ease his frustration, so you tried again. “Besides, why ride a bike when I can be chauffeured around by you all the time?”

Steve rolled his eyes before taking the keys out of the ignition. “Come on, get out. You’re learning how to ride a bike.”

You sighed, unfastening your seatbelt as you followed Steve to his garage, He guided a bike out onto his driveway and placed a helmet haphazardly on your head, reaching up to fasten it under your chin.

“I feel like an idiot,” you spoke up, and Steve tried really hard not to chuckle at how cute and sweet you looked.

“Well, you’re such a genius that I think feeling like an idiot every once in a while isn’t such a bad thing.”

Steve held the bike up for you while you mounted it, placing your feet on the pedals.

“Alright, so you’re just gonna pedal your feet, and I’m going to hold onto the handle bars and everything’s going to be fine, okay?”

You nodded and did as he said, shakily moving your feet as you attempted to steer the bike. You practiced that for a while before he moved his hands to your hips to help you keep your balance, so that you could work towards steering the bike yourself without assistance. Finally, he let go and just like that, you were riding a bike.

“I’m doing it Steve! Holy shit!” You couldn’t believe it. Your parents had never been able to afford a bike, so you just never learned.

“That’s my girl!” Steve shouted out, and your heart nearly stopped. His words caught you so off guard that you lost balance, the bike toppling over onto the street. You caught yourself on your hands, but skinned them and your knees in the process.

Steve rushed over to you, his hands hovering over you as he assessed the damage. “Y/n! I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Steve, calm down,” you assured him, hoping he didn’t see how beet red your face was. You began to stand up, but faltered a bit, pain shooting through your ankle as you came to the realization that you must have sprained it. You hissed in pain, and suddenly, Steve was picking you up bridal style to carry you back to his house. “Steve! Put me down!”

“Nope,” he replied simply, and you tried to keep your face from heating up at the way his arms felt around your body.

He spent the rest of the afternoon profusely apologizing, and you continued telling him that it was okay, but he was still clearly mad at himself when you went to bed that night.

He laid facing away from you, and it made your heart hurt. You decided you needed to show him that you didn’t care and that you were okay.

Your heart was beating a million miles a minute as you wrapped your small frame around his. Normally in bed, you were the little spoon in your weird in between relationship that you occupied. Never once had you been the one to initiate it. This was new territory.

You pressed yourself into the bare skin of his back and sighed at the warmth he radiated. Slowly, he turned in your embrace to face you, gently pushing a strand of hair away and tucking it behind your ear.

“I’m sorry, y/n,” he whispered, “I shouldn’t have pressured you. It was wrong of me and I’m sorry you got hurt.”

“Oh would you just stop it! I’m fine, Steve! My ankle doesn’t even hurt anymore, and I’m glad I know how to ride a bike now. All’s well that ends well, okay?”

He was still mad at himself, but he decided not to argue, instead choosing to take a calculated risk.

He gently grabbed your upper arm, pushing you down to lay flat on your back as he shifted so he was hovering above you. He gazed down at you with a look that screamed determination as he slowly closed the gap between you.

He shot you a look that seemingly asked “is this okay?” and you just nodded, unable to speak in anticipation of whatever was about to happen. This was all the confirmation he needed before he dipped his head down, his lips settling below your ear as he placed a gentle kiss there.

You let out a shaky breath as you closed your eyes, reveling in the way his lips felt against your skin. He kissed down your neck and across your exposed collarbones, and you thanked your lucky stars that you had put on a tank top that left enough available skin for him to pay attention to. Your chest heaved a bit at his touch, and your hand darted to the back of his neck, holding him to you and running your hands through his hair. After a few more kisses that were getting dangerously close to your cleavage and progressively more intense, he placed one more below your ear before pulling away.

You stared up at him in awe as he grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from his hair as he held it up in between the two of you. He took a moment to inspect the damaged skin on your palm, red and raw from when you had fallen. Slowly, he brought it to his mouth, placing the gentlest of kisses on it without breaking eye contact with you.

“There,” he whispered, “all better.”

That had been the first time he had ever kissed you and you felt your body growing hot just at the thought of it.

“Yeah, it’s a good thing you didn’t try to teach me how to drive,” you rolled your eyes, trying to play it off like you weren’t turned on by the memory of his lips against your skin.

Steve thought about it, and he wondered if teaching you to drive wouldn’t be such a bad idea. If you weren’t even dating and he had been able to kiss you like that when he taught you how to ride a bike, he was pretty sure the two of you were going to have a much more fun time in the back of his BMW after having you drive around the block for a little while.

Now was not the time to think about that though, and the two of you continued down the stairs, finally making it to Nancy’s garage as you each grabbed a bike.

Your legs were tired by the time you reached the trailer park, not being well suited for riding a bike such a long distance considering you had just learned how to about a year ago. Red lightning cracked through the sky, and you jumped every time you heard it. You gripped the handlebars tighter as you continued pedaling towards the Munsons’ trailer.

As soon as you pulled up, you all quickly ditched your bikes, each of you panting as you tried to catch your breath from the seven mile trip.

“That’s gotta be a Guinness World Record,” Robin spoke through gulps of air, “most miles traveled inter-dimensionally.”

“Just inhaled a bunch of that crap,” Steve grumbled referring to the ash as he coughed for emphasis, “it’s stuck in my throat.”

“Poor baby,” you attempted to patronize him, but your words died as a cough escaped your own throat, to which Steve shot you a condescending glance.

“Yeah, and who’s the baby now.”

“Will you two just shut the fuck up,” Robin coughed through her words, while Nancy rolled her eyes at the three of you. You crossed the threshold of Eddie’s trailer and you all stared silently at the pulsing, glowing gate above you.

“This is where Chrissy died,” Eddie spoke up, “like right where she died.”

A chill shot down your spine as you thought about Eddie’s description of Chrissy’s death. You tried to push the thought aside, but to no avail.

“Holy shit,” you whispered unable to pull your eyes away from the portal back to the familiar, despite how much you wanted to.

You watched as a shadow passed over the opening, and you felt nauseous at the thought of what it could be. “I think there’s something in there,” Robin announced what you were all thinking.

Something pressed into the gate, pushing at the glowing membrane before it suddenly burst, light pouring in through the now torn opening. You all backed up, shrieking as you all took defensive stances, ready to fight whatever you had to in order to survive.

Steve slowly crept towards the gate, looking up through it before whispering in awe.

“No way.”

A chuckle rang out that you would have recognized anywhere and you joined Steve to see Dustin smiling up at you alongside Max, Lucas, and Erica. They were upside down and it was do disorienting it was almost nauseating as you each looked up at each other through your respective ceilings.

“Holy shit this is trippy,” you laughed as Dustin continued to celebrate above you, thrilled that his theory was correct. The kids went off to go gather materials to hopefully bring you back to the real world as you waited in the Upside Down. Max and Lucas returned to your field of view, setting down a mattress that they had dragged from Eddie’s room to cushion your fall. You tried not to make a face at the way the sheets were stained.

“Those stains are, uh…I don’t know what those stains are,” Eddie began to attempt to explain but quickly gave up. Dustin walked over, holding together a rope he fastened out of several sheets.

“I’m not quite sure how these physics are going to work, but here goes nothing,” he said as he tossed the rope up through the gaping hole in the ceiling. “There we go,” he added as gravity caused one end of the rope to fall towards the floor in the Upside Down, “and if my theory is correct…”

He trailed off as he let go of the blanket and you watched as it miraculously hover around a central point between the two worlds, gravity working on either side to hold the rope securely in place.

Robin tugged on it to confirm it would hold and you couldn’t really believe what you were seeing.

“This is the craziest shit I have ever seen in my life, and I’ve seen some crazy shit,” Erica announced and you couldn’t help but chuckle, knowing just what crazy shit she was likely referring to.

“Guess I’m the guinea pig,” Robin spoke up as she attempted to climb the rope. It was surreal watching as the pull of gravity shifted, watching her tumble to the mattress below her as soon as she crossed the threshold back into the Hawkins you knew and loathed.

The four of you that remained looked at each other, silently trying to debate who would be next to leave the Upside Down.

“Alright, guess I’ll go,” Eddie spoke up hesitantly, climbing up the makeshift rope. Nancy followed after him and then suddenly it was just you and Steve, staring at each other through the ash floating through the air.

“See you on the other side,” Steve smirked at you, and you couldn’t help but grin back at him. Though you knew your tribulations were far from over, at least you were getting the hell out of this place, finally home free.

“On the other side,” you agreed. Steve helped to hoist you up, and you climbed towards the familiar. You passed the center point of the rope, bracing for contact with the mattress but it never came.

Instead everything went dark as you continued falling into oblivion.

***

a/n: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! If you did and you wanted to reblog and comment I’d be so so grateful (it really makes my day to see what you guys think of the story). Since I’m getting close to the end of the content we have, I probably will open requests soon. These can be related to Adventures in Babysitting if you’d like (like I’d love to write about some mundane shit for the in between moments of conflict in Hawkins) or they could be completely separate! Also, writing the bike flashback was my favorite part of this chapter :)

taglist:

@season4steve @sassyheroneckgiant @tangledinthegreatxscape @kahhori @palachannie @keeryverse @usaguisenpaisblog @emilieluckwood @sabrinadelreyy @mochminnie @xprloki @kitdjarin1 @kissmxcheek @daemonskitty @bethsvrse @aheadfullofsteverogers @quinnsadilla @chervbs @sheisjoeschateau @goosy-goose @frtfvthg @criesinlies @cycat4077 @kachelleee @killerqueenfan @newyorkangelbaby @spaghetittied @anxfl @huffledor-able541

[jessamine-rose]

☀︎⋆˖⋆⁺₊⋆꒰  Sunset  ꒱⋆₊⁺⋆˖⋆☀︎

One of these days, I’m going to beat Miguel O’Hara with a stick for continuing to torment me with brainrot. For now, I’ll hurt him with his Canon Event trauma. This fic can be read as either a standalone piece or as a prologue to my yandere fic The Spider and the Fly <3

Special thanks to @diodellet for beta-reading this and @bweoo for inspiring me with their art!! This piece is not as dark as my usual works, but that just means more tears feels~

Tw:: YANDERE, manipulation, blood, mention of death, self-deprecation, oh no it’s the moral consequences of Miguel’s actions

Note:: Female reader, ATSV spoilers, features Gabriel and Gabriella

♡ 3k words under the cut ♡

Your husband acts like a different person these days.

Over the weeks, you’ve noticed a change in Miguel. The cause is unknown.

He is more serious. His exhaustion is more prominent. He’s more preoccupied with work, to the point that he often comes home late or gets called in at random hours—and he becomes evasive whenever you ask about it.

He is still cheerful around Gabriella, but he treats you differently. Not to say that he is no longer fond of you, but he acts more…guarded. Distant. When he looks at you, it feels like he is taking you in with new eyes.

He still calls you by your special nickname. So why does it feel like there is more weight to his affection? Why do you feel uncomfortable in his embrace?

Why do you get the impression that something has gone horribly wrong?

꒰♡꒱

The first instance is the morning after your movie night with Gabriella.

When you wake up, Miguel is already out of bed. He is reading something on his laptop, and the desk is cluttered with old photo albums. His side of the bed is cold.

“Good morning,” you mumble. “Why are you up so early?”

He turns around quickly, screen paused at a family photo. “I couldn’t go back to sleep.”

“All right.”

Yawning, you open your closet and select your outfit for the day. A mint green dress, a belt with silver designs, a purple coat to drape over your shoulders…

“Miguel, can you please get my heart stud earrings? And my sun necklace?”

“Sure.” He reaches for the earring stand and easily finds the correct pair. Then he moves on to the jewelry box.

He opens the wrong drawer.

The top drawer holds your bracelets. He quickly closes it, only to open the drawer for your hair accessories. Then the one for your regular necklaces.

By the time you’re fully dressed, he is still searching.

“Just a minute,” he mumbles. He is staring at the contents of the last drawer, as though your sun necklace could be hidden among the colorful ribbons.

You walk over to him and open the hidden compartment.

“Here.” You take out the necklace, along with your pearl ring. “Right where I left them.”

How could he forget? That’s where you always keep them.

“Oh, right.” He closes the compartment and returns to his laptop. “Sorry, my brain was on autopilot. I think I need more sleep.”

Now that you think about it, he didn’t sleep well last night. You were the one to initiate cuddles, and his arms felt stiff around you.

You give him a sympathetic smile. “I’ll prepare extra coffee for you.”

There is something silver on his wrist, covered by his long sleeves. A new watch?

“Thanks.” He gives you a grateful look. “I’ll wake up Gabriella.”

With that, he leaves the room.

You open the hidden compartment again.

Where is his favorite watch?

Did it break? The leather strap is already discolored, but you’ve never seen Miguel without it. It was an anniversary gift from you.

Never mind, there is no harm in replacing it. Metal is more durable.

You continue getting dressed.

Your necklace is the same. Shiny beads, your favorite colors, a sun-shaped pendant—the prettiest thing in your collection. It was made by Miguel and Gabriella.

Lastly, you put on your wedding ring.

As always, it is a perfect fit.

꒰♡꒱

While Gabriella is at a friend’s sleepover, you plan another movie night.

Miguel works overtime again but other than that, he acts normal. He gives you the same forehead kiss, the same mi sol spoken with affection, the same cuddles on the sofa.

…You do realize that his body feels unfamiliar. Stronger. Has he been working out?

“I think I just found my new favorite film!” You turn off the TV, eagerly facing Miguel. “The costume design, the actors, that ending—it was all perfect! It’s a cinematic masterpiece.”

He smiles at you, amused by your reaction. “It was all right.”

“Are you kidding? We need to watch it again with Gabriella. She—”

Your leg hits the coffee table. Your glass tips over, and he catches it before it spills.

“Oh, sorry!” You sit back down as he returns the glass of water.

Did he always have fast reflexes? “It’s fine. Are you hurt?”

“No.” Your smile returns as a memory resurfaces. “At least it isn’t iced coffee this time.”

He gives you a blank look. “What do you mean?”

“You know, iced coffee.”

“Oh, right. That.” His eyes light up, followed by an awkward laugh.

Your smile falters.

How could he forget the cause of your first meeting? It’s practically a bedtime story for Gabriella, the story of how her parents met through a series of coincidences.

A sunny afternoon. A trip to an unfamiliar cafe near Alchemax. A crowded street which led you to bump into a stranger. A poorly-sealed cup which spilled iced coffee all over his jacket, resulting in apologies, reassurances, and a promise to meet up again for the laundry bill.

You don’t understand your sudden nostalgia. “It’s funny, isn’t it? It was so…messy. Unromantic. But had anything been different, I never would’ve met you.”

“It’s true.” He regards you with a contemplative gaze. “It’s in the fine details.”

“I mean, think about it! If my coffee cup was properly sealed, if I wasn’t left alone with the shy intern who recommended the cafe, if you didn’t finish work early to visit Gabriel, if the rain didn’t stop earlier…Alchemax is researching the multiverse theory, right? It’s almost scary to imagine countless other worlds where I don’t have you and Gabriella.”

Or did the chain reaction begin with your first taste of coffee? With your first breakup? With your job application to your dream company, despite your family’s disapproval?

“It’s true,” he sighs. “The probability of our first meeting must be less than 0.001%. It would’ve been impossible for me to find you elsewhere, mi sol.”

There is something sad about the way he says it.

You take his hand and intertwine your fingers, offering a soft smile.

“Then we’re really lucky to live in this universe, aren’t we?”

꒰♡꒱

Gabriella’s birthday gift is the right choice.

You sit on the bleachers, watching her and Miguel try out her new soccer ball. They look happy in every video you take.

You wish the same can be said for you.

Earlier, you asked Gabriella if she noticed anything different about her dad, but she said no. To her, Miguel is the same parent who coaches her in soccer and makes more time for her and looks at her with the warmest of smiles. He’s always been better at this.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join them?”

Your brother-in-law returns with the tray of cupcakes. You shake your head, gesturing to the colorful bandages on your leg.

“Not today. I don’t want to ruin her special day with a repeat of our last game.”

Your accident wasn’t that bad, thankfully. Gabriella let you pick your favorite Band-Aid designs, the same thing you do when treating her injuries. And it earned you a walk back to the car in Miguel’s arms; you could really swear that he’s gained more muscle. Why, though?

“Hey, Gabriel, have you noticed anything off about your brother lately?”

“Miguel?” He shakes his head. “He’s the same as ever. Did something happen?”

If even his own family hasn’t noticed anything, what could it be?

You twist your ring around your finger. “It’s nothing. I probably imagined it.”

“Are you sure? I can talk to him if you want.”

In that case, is Miguel only acting differently around you?

Could you have done something wrong?

“No, everything is fine.”

“Mom!” Gabriella runs over to you, all smiles. “I won the game!”

“That’s great, Gabby!” You wipe off her sweat with a towel before fixing her headband. “How many victories does that make against Dad?”

Miguel is next. He’s still wearing the blue ribbon you attached to her gift, and there is a bit of grass on his sleeve.

Is he still wearing that new watch? Where did he get it?

He gives you a concerned look. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, love.” You put on a perfect smile, mindful of your daughter and Gabriel. “I’m just a bit tired. I was so excited for the party that I could barely rest.”

You can’t make a mistake with him, not in front of Gabriella. She deserves better.

“Gabriel, can you take a photo for us?”

꒰♡꒱

Miguel’s office is dark.

You idle outside the room. Looking at the gap under the door, you can tell that a dim yellow light is on. Even at home, your husband is busy with work.

Or is Alchemax really to blame?

Your stress ball already has marks from your nails. Try as you might, you can’t muster the courage to knock.

It’s not pathetic to worry about this.

If you know Miguel as well as you think you still do, then you’re definitely overreacting. He is the same person who fell for you all those years ago.

Who knows, the worst-case scenario may be better than expected! There’s always therapy. Surely, it can bridge the distance between the two of you. Or help you work through your old issues again; they’re probably clouding your judgment.

At least Gabriella is asleep. When you checked her room, Miguel was reading her a bedtime story. The two of them looked so close. So happy, your precious family.

Loving Miguel was never a mistake. How could you say that after all he’s given you?

You knock on the door. “Hey, can I speak to you?”

The yellow light turns off, replaced with the bright glow of the ceiling lights.

Miguel gives you a tired look as he opens the door. “Is it important?”

But since when has his work been more important than you?

It’s difficult to refrain from yelling.

“Miguel…are you cheating on me?”

“What?”

The surprise on his face is unmistakable. But it only relieves a fraction of your anxieties.

You glare at him. “You’ve been acting so strange around me.”

“That’s because I’ve been busy—”

“With ‘work,’ which you refuse to explain to me! You don’t even wear your anniversary gift these days. Does it still mean anything to you?!”

Now he looks alarmed. “Mi sol, I—”

You enter the office and close the door. Here, you can worry less about waking up Gabriella.

“Did…Did I do something wrong? Either I’ve done something to upset you or you’ve found someone else. I can’t recognize you these days—what other logical explanation is there?!”

Oddly enough, you don’t feel any urge to cry. You throw your useless stress ball on the floor, but the action does little to calm you.

It takes a few seconds for Miguel to respond.

“The watch is broken.”

Immediately, you look up. “What?”

In the bright light, you can discern your husband’s expression. He looks…guilty? But not in the way you’d expect. He reaches into his pocket and takes out his favorite watch.

It isn’t just the red dots on the strap. The timepiece is cracked, dials frozen in place.

“What happened to it?”

He averts his gaze. “That night, before we watched that animation with Gabriella, I got…attacked. That’s why it took so long for me to buy the movie snacks.”

You grip his wrist. “What? Did you get hurt?! There’s blood on—”

“I’m fine,” he says quickly. He puts his hand on your shoulder. “It was just a random thief, and I scared him off. I knew it would upset you, so I decided not to mention it.”

“That…you didn’t have to,” you mutter. You carefully pick up the watch, inspecting the time. “Can it be fixed? The strap needs to be changed, but that’s a given.”

“It can’t.”

He looks so dejected by that fact. But then again, it is a gift from you. It’s just like your husband to cherish it and worry about your feelings.

“It’ll stay in my jewelry box, then.” You keep it in your pocket, crossing your arms. “But I’m not done with you. Is there anything else I need to know?”

“Right.” He glances at his laptop; there is no yellow light coming from it. “About work, there have been ethical issues within Alchemax. That’s why I’ve been held up at the office.”

You frown at him. “What do you mean?”

He chooses his words carefully. “Illegal projects. I’m working to put a stop to them.”

“Are you serious?!” Now you grip him by the shoulders, eyes wide. “Is it safe? Do the higher-ups know what you’re doing?! Is…is there any way I can help you?”

Of course. He’s always been a good guy, so he would never turn a blind eye to something like this.

“Stay out of it. It’s classified information, and they will do everything to keep it that way. I’m not putting you and Gabriella in danger.”

His glare leaves no room for objection. Did his eyes just flash red—no, it’s probably a trick of the light.

You nod reluctantly. “I’ll trust you. You’re amazing, you know that? Smart, righteous, reliable…everything, really.”

How could you possibly say that you made the wrong choice with someone like that?

“Can I have a hug?”

“Sure.” He doesn’t hesitate this time.

“I’m sorry for doubting you,” you mumble, leaning into his touch, “but promise me that there will be no more secrets. Don’t give me something new to worry about.”

“I promise.” He holds you tightly, voice hushed to a soft whisper. “And I’m sorry.”

“Now let me see your new watch.”

Without a second to spare, you draw back and pull up his sleeve.

“Wait.” His eyes widen, and he quickly seizes your wrists. “Don’t touch it!”

“...Is this seriously it?”

The replacement is barely impressive. It looks like an ordinary gizmo, with a triangular orange face and red details. If his reaction is anything to go by, it must be delicate.

Nonetheless, you give him a bright smile. No wonder he didn’t want you to see it.

“As always, you have horrible taste.”

꒰♡꒱

The office is quiet.

You frown at the empty desks. How long until your coworkers come back? The cafe must have a long line; hopefully, they don’t forget to include your order.

They haven’t read your messages, either, but you did receive a few videos from Miguel. He is spending his day off with Gabriella; they’re playing soccer again.

You smile and adjust the new Band-Aid on your hand. The past days have been the happiest time of your life. More family outings, more time with Gabriella, more love from Miguel.

A phone call interrupts the video. You read the Caller ID and promptly press Decline.

Mother.

What the hell does your family want with you? After all those failed reconciliations? As if you’ll try again after everything they said about Miguel and Gabriella.

The phone rings again. It’s Gabriel this time, and you answer it.

“Hello?”

Static.

You raise the volume, frowning. It’s a weird sound, less grainy and more…digital? Like a computer glitch, chaotic and distorted. In the background, you can make out fragmented voices.

“Gabriel? Can you hear me?”

You end the call and try calling him, only for the phone to say that he can’t be reached.

Bad reception, maybe. Hopefully, he can get to you later.

“______?” Aisa, one of the graphic designers, approaches your desk.

“Yes?”

“The outline for the Moirai Photoshoot has been updated. What are your initial thoughts?”

“Let me see…” You check your email and open the attachment.

The file shows concept sketches for the next magazine issue. The featured fashion collection is inspired by the Banksy-esque installations which have been appearing all over Nueva York. Various colors, geometric shapes, mismatched articles of clothing, replicas of street objects, maximalism at its finest.

“It looks good at first glance,” you reply. You zoom in on the images, taking in the details. “The dynamic poses are suitable—I’ll leave that to the photography team—and these are the best outfits from Moirai’s selection. But I have an issue with the background.”

Aisa takes out her tablet. “You too?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

The background is dark with a pattern of bright red lines.

You continue speaking. “Those red lines are too much. A plain light background is better, to highlight the different colors and silhouettes of the outfits.”

“That’s exactly what I said in my comments,” she agrees. “I think those lines are based on the red threads that sometimes appear near the art installations.”

You leave your comments on the file.

-

Change background. See Aisa’s comments.

The design reminds me of spiderwebs. It makes the models appear trapped, which clashes with the poses and Moirai’s designer statement.

Don’t forget, an unnecessary addition is all it takes to ruin the image.

-

Your gaze drifts to the family photo on your desk. It won’t be long before you can go home. You already have the perfect movie in mind, one with a promised happy ending.

…Is another art installation in progress? It looks like images are being projected on the nearby buildings; the special effects are impressive. Even the sky is changing color.

You move closer to the window, only to stop as Aisa hands you her tablet.

“Here, I tried to cut out the lines. What do you think?”

The sketches are the same, but the lines have been edited out.

You focus on the images. Only after hearing Aisa’s terrified screams do you notice the colorful glitches spreading over the office, crawling towards you.

“We’re right. It looks prettier without them.”

꒰♡꒱

NAME: ______ O’Hara

STATUS: Dead Disintegrated

*Zero traces of DNA detected in Earth-█████*

-

“LYLA, commence replay.”

♡

The Spider and the Fly ๑ Related Story

Stay tuned for the epilogue to The Spider and the Fly, entitled Moonrise!!

Ngl even I surprised myself with how quickly I finished this fic. For those who first read The Spider and the Fly, I hope you liked the insight into Variant! Darling's backstory and how it also affected Wife! Darling, despite the latter making better life choices and becoming a happier version of her. It was fun to illustrate their differences and insecurities <3

Also, it was a delight to write about Miguel's chara angst, and I sincerely hope that Sunset was a painful experience for all of you. Let me know how you feel after reading ( ◠‿◠ )

Tag a Miguel O’Hara enjoyer!! @yanmaresu @yandere-romanticaa @yandere-wishes @kocherry @oofasleep @h2o2-and-baking-soda @curesi @weebsinstash @literaree @handsomeunderwear-art @pumpkin-toffee @mari-thesimp @miggyyyyohara @abyssalrot @letskidaddle @iamfakeu

[sorcerous-caress]

to dance with you | Astarion

[ fluff, heavy angst, bad end, character death, trauma, nb!reader ]

[Before the events of bg3, Reader is one of Astarion's victims ]

I am very sorry.

There was no taste to numbness, no colour, shape, or smell.

Just an absence, an emptiness. 

You couldn't escape it, no matter how much you tried. Much like total darkness, the abyss waited for you back home at the end of the day.

And while you knew it was hopeless to attempt to rationalise your way out of it, to cling to some justifications that explain that lack of warmth in your life, that just maybe it somehow made you superior to endure, you knew deep down it was a waste of time.

There's no dignity in suffering. There's no prize for enduring agony. 

Your drink was getting cold.

Lifting the cup to the edge of your lips, you swallowed down what you could of the lukewarm liquid. Barely registering the taste of it.

You're spiralling again. You always did around this time of year.

People say one must imagine sisyphus happy, and yet you've dragged your own corpse up this hill too many times to count. Clawed your way out of rot and into a resemblance of a functional adult.

Staring out the cafe window into the snow-covered city, you finished the rest of your now cold drink. It was barely night, and yet the sun has already said its goodnights.

The streets will fill out soon. The buzzing of the nightlife was just on the horizon. 

You found it ironic in a way, for how much Lathander's followers loved to proclaim the sun as the symbol of absolute goodness, then how come people only felt like being their true selves at night.

It felt like a curtain being drawn at the end of the show, when the angels slept and the pressure to perform melted away.

You should take your leave soon.

Your eyes shifted to stare into the bottom of your empty cup, traces of the remains of your drink have dried up in various shapes. 

"Good evening" a voice called out to you, someone standing in front of your table, next to the empty chair.

Looking up, you were met with ruby eyes. Silvery hair and curling around pointy ears, framing the pale face and.

"Would it be alright if I joined you, my dear?" The elf continued, voice gentle as if coaxing a rabbit out of its nest.

You don't know why, but at that moment you nodded.

He sat down on the opposite chair.

You weren't superficial. At least you didn't think so. People couldn't control their appearance, so what right do you have to judge them based on it?

Yet when you took in the man in front of you. His half lidded eyes made you the sole point of his focus, the subtle smile to his lips. You would've been blind to pretend that it didn't affect you in some way.

"Do you mind if I buy you a drink? Something to warm you up, maybe?" Clear concern in his voice, "it tends to get very cold quickly at night, and we don't want someone as lovely as you getting sick now, do we?"

He was…worried about your health? A stranger you've never met before?

You shook your head. "No, it's alright." He was probably just trying to be nice, "I wasn't aware I looked miserable enough to worry a stranger, I was just about to leave anyway."

His eyes widened, his smile dropping. "No wait…I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend" he cleared his throat, seemingly embarrassed by the misunderstanding he caused, "But where are my manners? You may call me Astarion." 

You stared at the hand that he extended to you, he didn't seem phased by your hesitation to shake it. In fact, he patiently waited for you.

Not wanting to make this more awkward than it already is, you took his hand. He smiled again.

You told him your own name, and he said it suited you. His cold hands let go of yours after running his thumb across your hand.

"Please excuse my previous…failed attempt. I'm not used to approaching people." His eyes looked to the side, probably to mask his nervousness, you thought.

He seemed so bold and confident moments ago, yet the second you mentioned leaving, he immediately switched. 

Huh, people really aren't what they seem like, you thought to yourself. Who knew behind his confident facade was just someone like you.

"It's alright, I'm sorry for my rushed assumptions." You felt bad. This person was just trying to be nice, and you were rude to him for no reason but your own paranoia.

"I noticed you since you walked in," he admitted, "you looked…simply breathtaking." His eyes drank you up, taking in every detail of your form.

You've barely noticed him. You've barely noticed anyone in the cafe. You were too occupied wallowing in your own misery to give the outside world more than a passing glance.

"I'm flattered, really." You admitted, "but I'm not sure if I will live up to your expectations…" as shameful as it was to admit, you thought it was better to warn him early on than to pretend to be someone you're not.

Astarion's hand reached over the table, holding your own in a loose reassuring grip. Giving you enough space to pull back if you wanted to.

"Oh no, trust me." He gave your hand a comforting squeeze, "you're simply perfect." His voice dripped with honey, warm and sweet sliding down your throat.

You held his hand back.

"Then let me make it up to you, how about I buy you a drink? To warm you up." There was a playful edge to your voice as you repeated his words, "well by how cold your hand is, you probably really need this drink."

Amusement filled his face as he chuckled. "You clever little thing." Your eyes followed his tongue as he licked his lips, "I'm starting to like you already."

After a couple of drinks and some time, the two of you ended up leaving the establishment together. Light conversation flowed seamlessly and weaved into one another between you both.

To say he was easy to talk to would've been an underestimation. You felt like you're hanging out with a lifelong friend instead of a stranger you've met a couple of hours ago.

You really didn't pay much attention to time flying by, not when the night sky looked so mesmerising above you. Not when Astarion sat next to you on the garden bench.

And while your conversations didn't stay light for long, he didn't seem like he minded as he leant you his shoulder to lean on while you expressed your worries.

"I think you should tell them. They're your parents, after all." His arm kept you close to his body, "Isn't it their job to help you during rough times and all of that?"

"I don't know, I'm supposed to be an adult." You hid half your face in his shoulder, "I much rather suck it up until I find a new job, and then maybe I'll tell them."

Easier said than done. It's been a week since you've handed in your applications, and yet not a single letter was sent back to you.

"I just don't want to be a burden," you continued "sometimes I wish I didn't worry them so much. Maybe they'll do better without me holding them back." 

Astarion didn't reply. His hold tightened around you.

"Sometimes…I wish I could just disappear." You buried your face in his neck, taking in his scent and closing your eyes.

Again, no reply, only the sound of the night breeze rustling the nearby bushes. The moon looming over the both of you and showering you in her light.

A waning moon.

"I ruined the mood, didn't i?" You let out a bitter laugh as you pulled away from him, "I'm sorry."

There was a somber expression on his face, his usually sharp eyes appearing soft and round.

"No, not at all." He said, "I was just thinking about your words. Wishing to disappear."

With a heavy sigh, he turned to you. "I could preach to you all night about how valuable a single mortal life is like they do all morning at those temples, but we both know that's bullshit." His voice sounded more natural, vastly different from the smooth sultry tone he had before. "Life will still move on, with or without that person."

You snorted, "What, not a fan of the church and gods?" 

"More like they're not fans of mine. But I suppose we can't all have taste." Getting up from the bench, the moonlight illuminated the edges of his hair like a halo, completely facing you.

"I suppose they're missing out." Walking by his side, the two of you strolled through the garden at a slow pace. Hands occasionally brushing against each other.

"Definitely, who wouldn't want this face on their side. I'd probably get them more visitors than their clerics ever could." Leaning closer, Astarion stopped in his tracks as his hand held your face.

"Actually, something tells me you'd do very well at that job, helping others." You leaned into his hand, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

With a sarcastic laugh, he said "Please, me?" 

"Yes, you." When you opened your eyes, you were met with his intense gaze, "you're really good at making people feel at ease, letting them speak their worries. Like you did to me."

"Darling, I did no such thing." He lowered his eyes to your lips, licking his own. Maybe he was using this as an excuse to avoid your gaze.

You gently lifted his chin to look at you again, "Sometimes the best way to help someone is to listen to them, truly listen." 

His lips pressed into a thin line.

"I have been cold and rude to you, and yet you've treated me with warmth…that's a gift, you know. I won't ever forget it." Your own hands cupped his face, contrasting against his pale cold skin. "So yes, if you ever consider being a cleric or something one day, you'll definitely have my recommendation." 

Closing the distance between the two of you, your lips gently pressed against his forehead. Wishing his safety and well being with a quick peck as you pulled away.

His own hands left you long ago, laying abandoned on his sides. His fingers twitched.

Taking a deep breath, you saw his usual easy going smile come back. You felt at ease again as he returned to what you knew as his normal self. "I can think of a way or two you could repay me then, something we would both enjoy greatly." he said.

You felt a subtle touch against your hips, his hands asking permission to hold you.

It was getting really late, you realised. Your dogs must be worried sick back home. Their anxious figures waiting in front of the doorstep, you remember kissing them goodbye before you left.

...

It will be alright, it's just one night. You always left them more food than normal just in case, so they'll be safe and happily fed until your arrival.

Maybe you can even introduce Astarion to them tomorrow. You have a feeling they'll absolutely love licking his face until his hair is a mess.

"Yeah." You pushed his hands to fully grip your hips, his smile grew. "That sounds good to me."

-

The time spent during the walk to his home flew by. He was very good at making you lose yourself in the moment. 

Stepping inside, he kept a tight hold on you as he led you through the corridors.

Huge oil paintings adorned the crimson walls, a red carpet to match. You immediately noticed the lack of windows, and whatever ones you could spot had a thick layer of black curtains drawn closely shut over them.

He ignored any servants you passed by, and likewise, they seemed to pretend you didn't exist either, as if you were invisible like a ghost.

Astarion's demeanour shifted the second you stepped foot inside the palace, and his replies reduced to one word or less whenever you tried to start a conversation. 

You had a sinking feeling in the pits of your stomach, gnawing at your flesh and slowing down your steps.

"Is something wrong?" You asked him after he led you into a bedroom at the end of the hall. "You don't seem well."

His back was turned to you.

You took a step forward, placing a hand on his back. "Astarion?"

He flinched away from your hand the second you touched him, as if you burned the flesh on his back. A low hiss of pain escaped his lips.

Turning to face you after a few seconds, his expression was schooled back into the most charming smile.

"I just tend to get nervous when it comes to initiating intimacy." He told you, a nervous look in his eyes as he shifted slightly.

Oh, is that why he has been acting this way? You offered a comforting smile. "That's completely alright. We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with."

"... really? Even when you came the whole way here?" He said with a sceptical tone, "nonsense, my dear, I will get over it in time. I just…need a couple of minutes, yeah."

"I really mean it, Astarion, we don't have to do anything." You repeated yourself more firmly.

You thought your words might offer him some relief, yet the subtle frown to his lips only grew deeper. 

"How about we just get comfortable on the bed and see where the night takes us?" He offered, unbuttoning the cuffs of his embroidered shirt and sitting on the lush bed.

You didn't like his total disregard for your offer. You could tell he wasn't believing you. But you didn't want to push him at the time, so you just let it go.

After making some adjustments to your clothes until you were in a comfortable state, you joined him on the bed. He immediately turned to face you. His body was so close to yours.

"Now…" he whispered so close to your ear. "Just how much I wanted to make you mine since the moment I saw you."

One thing led to another, a teasing touch there, a promising squeeze here, and the taste of his lips against yours.

He just knew how to take your breath away, how to get you to melt into the kiss. Wanting more, chasing after his tongue for another taste.

His hand going down your body, feeling your throat, your chest, your waist, and then your thighs. Heat collected between your legs. You could feel your body respond back to his expert touches, completely ignoring your brain and forming a mind of its own as it grinded against his hands.

Pleasure was overwhelming you. It was both too much and not enough at the same time. It was addicting and consuming.

Was he enjoying it, too? Did seeing you this needy and responsive to his touches make him burn with lust and desire for you?

You tried breaking the kiss to get a good look at him, but he wouldn't relent. Wouldn't give you a chance to even think about anything else but your own pleasure.

When you finally managed to pull away from his lips, you couldn't get more than a glance at his expression before he immediately went for your neck. Sucking and marking the flesh with vigour, teeth sending shivers down your spine.

You didn't realise how sharp his teeth were until you felt them graze your neck. They were almost alarmingly sharp, one wrong move, and they'd glide easily into your flesh.

"Astarion…" you called out to him. His lips left your neck and took it as an invitation to kiss you again, stealing your breath away. "Astarion no wait- " you mumbled between each kiss.

That got him to stop, his hands pulling away from your body.

"Yes my love?" He breathed against your lips.

Your eyes met his, you took in his dishevelled appearance, the flush to his cheeks and his wet glistening lips. His eyes looked like they held desire in them, inviting and tantalising.

But the more you stared into them, the less they seemed to look at you and instead look through you. Deep inside his eyes, he was a thousand miles away. 

You couldn't even see a hint of desire in them if you took away the facade.

"I don't want this." You whispered.

"Did I do something wrong?" 

"No…I just don't want this."

He got off of you, giving you your space back.

Neither of you mentioned it, instead each of you stuck to their own side of the bed.

It was clear he didn't know how to proceed forward, a crease to his eyebrows while in deep thoughts, as you assumed.

The silence was uncomfortable, unbearable even. Your mind wandered back to your home, your comfortable safe haven. 

In an attempt to lighten the mood, you said, "one time, Luna cost me over 5000 golds."

Seemingly coming back to reality, it took Astarion some seconds to fully register your words, "Luna?"

"My dog," you said, "the sweetest shepherd you'll ever meet. I came home from work late one time and she wagged her tail so fast that she fractured it." 

"She sounds charming." Astarion let out a soft laugh, "although, why Luna?"

"She's black and white, you know like the phases of the moon. I thought it was clever at the time." You admitted, "or are you more of a cat person?"

"I'm not an animal person at all, honestly." 

"What, are they also not fans of you?"

That got another chuckle out of him. "They tend to be too smelly for my liking, but I'd take a cat over a horse any day." 

He turned his body to face you again, you did the same.

"Really? Luna adores horses, she could teach you a thing or two."

"Are you really not only suggesting that the dog and I meet up, but that she'd also take me as her pupil?"

"I mean…well yeah, I was kinda hoping I'd take you to meet her tomorrow morning." You cleared your throat, "well that's if you want to.

His focus seemed to drift again, "...you don't happen to have cats, do you?" His tone was quieter than before, eyes not fully meeting yours.

"There's a stray that comes to visit Luna daily, he's not very friendly to other people but who knows." As corny as you thought your line sounded, you still proceeded to say it in hopes it will lift his mood up, "maybe he'll also fall victim to your charm like I did."

Instead of the reaction you expected, you were met with genuine scepticism.

"Ha" his laugh was bitter, "you don't have to spare my feelings darling, I know you don't see me that way."

You sat up on the bed.

"What do you mean?"

He looked up at you, you felt like he was attempting to make himself smaller against the pillow.

"Oh I'm not holding a grudge or anything." He claimed, "I can admit it when I'm not someone's type or whatever."

Brushing a strand of his hair behind his pointy ear, you tried to coax him to meet your eyes again. "...Astarion, I am very attracted to you.

He leaned away from your hand. "Then why did you want to stop?"

The truth burned in your throat to admit. "I just…I didn't feel like you were enjoying it. Like you wanted it."

That look, the eyes staring through you.

Astarion seemed very conflicted, about what? You weren't sure. But you wanted to comfort him, to take away his pain and carry it yourself instead.

He never denied your words.

You pulled your hand away from his hair, still not laying down beside him as you watched his body curl under the covers.

"It's alright, you don't have to explain anything." You got up from the bed, "I can leave if it's-" just as you were about to pick up your clothes, his hand immediately grabbed your wrist in a desperate grip.

"No," he said with dread in his eyes, "you can't."

It was a complete switch from his previous state, you weren't sure what to even make of it.

"I can't?" 

He seemed to catch himself, letting go of your wrist.

"stay with me, at least for tonight." His eyes were pleading, "we can just hold each other, isn't that what you want?" 

He sat up from the bed, gently taking your hands in his as he led you back to the comfort of the sheets.

"It's what I want." He whispered, voice so inviting and beckoning you closer, "I swear." 

You weren't strong enough to resist.

Following after him, your bodies pressed together under the soft sheets. You only felt your own heartbeat in your chest as he held you close. He was cold, so you shared your own body warmth to warm him up. 

The candles in the room were burning out, a calming silence fell. Lulling you to rest and let the day end.

You could only hear your own heart beating.

This was nice, it felt nice and safe so it must be.

Just as sleep was about to steal you away, Astarion's voice nudged you back awake.

"What do you like about me?" His voice was raw, sincere.

You couldn't see his face, "you, of course."

He moved against you, "obviously, now be more specific."

You tried to think about it. It felt like one of these important questions that'd shape your future relationship with him, so you tried to give it all of your thoughts.

There were so many things to love about him, but many of them were things you'd still love him without.

Yet they were still parts of him, but how many parts were actually him.

"Your nature." Was the answer you gave, still not quite satisfied with it.

"Oh shit." His serious tone didn't last long before being replaced by a playful one, "I didn't invite a druid to my bed, did i?" 

You snorted, "very funny, but I meant it." 

Even without seeing his face, you felt his lips curl upwards against your skin. Claiming that small victory was enough for you.

"You know" you found yourself rambling, "my day was going absolutely horrible until you showed up. I don't usually really believe in gods or miracles, but…you were the closest thing to a guardian angel I've ever had."

A yawn escaped your lips, you continued.

"I was too inside my head. I forgot that a whole world outside existed. A world with people like you." Your eyelids fluttered, sleep lurked behind them. "As shitty as life can be, somehow I believe things will be okay." 

Adjusting your position so you could face him in the dark, you felt his body stiffen against yours.

"Goodnight Astarion." you gave his forehead a small kiss, wishing for his safety and well being. "Rest well."

-

The deep hours of the night is when the Szarr palace fell the most silent. Merely an hour or two separating them from dawn.

A warm living breathing body laid next to him, just like many others before. And Astarion embraced them just like many others before.

But the waves of emotions swirling inside him like poison were definitely new.

He didn't get a hint of rest, he couldn't. As much as he wanted to just close his eyes for the remaining hours and ignore the waking world. After all they will definitely disappear in the morning, so what's a few hours of blissful ignorance?

But he just couldn't, the thought itself threatened to turn his stomach inside out. Disgust he has never felt in years lurching at his insides.

It's their fault, it's all their fault.

They should've made it easier for him. They should've just closed their eyes, spread their legs, and ignored his existence. 

They shouldn't have mentioned their stupid moon dog. They shouldn't have made him leer inside at the idea of having parents to support you yet still choosing to suffer alone.

How dare they be so cruel? How dare they kiss his forehead so tenderly.

He was choking. His throat burned so much that every breath felt like needles being dragged against the inside of his neck.

Worst of all, he could still hear their heartbeat. Did his own sound like that before? Is this what it felt like to have a speck of evidence that you're alive? 

A constant reminder of your mortal life, of your endless potential, of your stupid naivety and your pointless kindness.

His whole body was shaking.

Cazador will be here soon. Just like so many times before.

He needed to act fast. He needed to do something. Otherwise, he felt like he would go crazy.

They don't deserve whatever that monster did with all the others. They don't deserve a fate that cruel, not someone like them. Please God, anyone else but them.

He prayed, holding them closely as he begged and pleaded with each one of the Gods he could recall the name of in his state of panic.

If not for his miserable life then please do something for them, they're still a mortal, they're still one of your children. Please god just save them.

Like always, no answer came.

Astarion felt hopeless, useless and small. 

He stared in horror at his own hands, still in the same praying position. He truly had nothing to offer.

Nothing except a dignified death.

Death would save them from Cazador, Death would save them from torture.

Death was what he should've picked that night almost two centuries ago. 

Careful not to disturb their peaceful rest, Astarion grabbed a pillow.

He took one last good look at them in the dark, he engraved their face into his memory.

He wanted to lean over and give them one last kiss. He didn't feel like he deserved to.

The pillow pressed against their face, slowly cutting off their oxygen.

Astarion held tightly. He kept his hold firm even as they struggled.

He couldn't take his eyes off of the pillow, his tears falling and staining its white cover. A drop after another.

As their struggles died down, by that time, he had gotten his side of the pillow entirely wet. He still held firm, despite his shaking fingers, despite the blood slowly joining his tears onto the pillow from how hard his teeth dug into his lips.

At these hours, the Szarr palace was the most silent. He couldn't risk making a single sound.

Only when a heartbeat ceased to exist did he let go of his grip.

He got off the bed, closed their eyes and covered their face with the sheets. He sat on the floor, head next to their cold dead feet.

Despite his clean hands, he swore he felt their blood on them, seeping into his skin and marking him forever.

Not just their blood, but the blood of every innocent miserable person he lured back into this hell.

He just wanted to save them, to save this one person. Take a life in stride and carry the guilt to the end of his days. 

It was just one life, one very precious person.

Was a very precious person.

But he forgot to account for the hundreds of lives he has taken indirectly before, it was easier to forget when it wasn't his own hands stopping their heartbeat.

His whole world felt like it stopped because of one life.

As he sat there on the cold floor, naked, shaking with tears streaming down his face, he heard the very familiar tapping of a staff against the floorboards.

All of his feelings vanished in an instant, as if he was drowning in a deep volcanic abyss before getting pulled into the freezing surface.

He could not feel his fingers, numbness spread throughout his whole body.

The tapping got closer. It was heading towards him.

Cazador was heading towards him.

There were no feelings left inside him, just pure numbness.

There was no taste to numbness, no colour, shape, or smell.

Just an absence, an emptiness. 

He couldn't escape it, no matter how much he tried. Much like total darkness, the abyss waited for him back home at the end of the day.

[futurecorps3]

May I request Kaz caring for sick!reader? ❤️

Masterlist <3 -Requests are still open! (For any character of the fandoms in my masterlist)

This is a concept that I absolutely adore. I'm using fem!reader and established relationship for this one !<3 I hope you like it. I'm terribly sorry for the long delay! (Yes, we're going to pretend I never left and that I'm not back after being gone for like five months)

𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐲

WARNINGS: Mentions of death, illness, trauma related to those two, stabbing, blood,

»»————-　𓄿　————-««

He thinks it's, frankly, pathetic. To anyone outside the crows, and even people from inside the slat knew Kaz Brekker was not a man victim of guilt. If anything, guilt was his servant and his bitch, to say the least.

But here he was.

Knowing for a fact Y/N coming down with the worst cold he had seen in... several years, was completely and entirely his fault all because he insisted she had to stay outside the building to make sure no Stadwatch officers came near in the last job they got done.

Her being the most capable fighter of them all was his excuse, but both of them knew he didn't want her to go inside to dive into the smell of rotting corpses and the sight of the death itself. Which she had no issues on causing, but a fresh corpse is way far from a decomposing one.

She understood the difference perfectly. Her past taught her that particular lesson. It wasn't different for him, but he'd only stay near the door while Jesper grabbed the blueprints from that rich asshole's corpse and then get out fast.

She was perfectly fine, keeping both eyes open for anything odd.

It then started raining.

A thing she loved since she had arrived in Ketterdam. There was a certain air brought by the combination of wet alleyways and the noisy streets of the East Stave that brought comfort to her. She said that to him in one of their late-night conversations. But you didn't need to be as clever as Kaz to know that Y/N wouldn't particularly enjoy it as she did inside the comfort her room brought, being outside with no shelter from the little droplets of water, that is.

"Saints, doll, you're drenched!" was the first thing that came out of Jesper's mouth when he saw her after getting out of the morgue. She was. "Did you get them?" was the only thing she answered, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and moving them up and down trying to keep warm, miserably failing.

It had stopped raining a few minutes ago, so the wind was especially colder and faster. Kaz muttered a small "Yes" as he handed the blueprints to Inej for a quick second, taking off his long black coat and draping it over his lover's shoulders. "Let's go, quick," he ordered, keeping Y/N close to him. As close as he could, anyway; their arms touching and pinkies linked as they walked through the city, with Inej guarding them from above.

Kaz knew he should've asked Nina to check her pulse and temperature before she left, or even better, ask her to part to Fjerda the next morning in case Y/N got ill no matter how the girl insisted her friend should leave as soon as possible so the flowers the crows sent for Matthias wouldn't die. Nina left that same night and Y/N started sneezing soon after.

"Would you like some tea? Mom used to add honey, ginger and garlic on it when I had a cold" Wylan offered, seeing his friend's state as his boyfriend, Kaz, and Y/N sat on the small loft in the third floor of the Slat "That'd be great, thank you Wylan" she said, trying to clear her itchy throat. With that, Wylan excited the room with Jesper following after him.

"Are you warm?" Kaz asked, sitting next to her on the couch, stretching his bad leg over the table, being careful he didn't knock over any of the items on it "Mhm" she hummed, tracing small shapes on his gloved hand in search for some comfort. Kaz pulled away immediately to take the leather item off and pulled his hand closer to her thigh so she could continue. She did, giggling softly.

"Did you feel alright earlier?" this time she was the one asking, knowing how uncomfortable the situation could've made him. "It was fine. I didn't touch... it. You know seeing them isn't as bad as-" "Yes" she nodded "What did he even die from?" "Bastard got stabbed and bled to death in an alley, it was just a matter of time for someone of the many people who hated him acted" "Or for you to get him" she smiled, making him smirk softly "Or for me to get him".

"You should go to bed," he suggested, peeking over to the kitchen briefly and seeing Wylan and Jesper playing around with the honey, "They're taking their time" he sighed. Y/n tried turning her head quickly towards the other couple but hissed right away, placing her hand on her head after feeling a sharp sting. Kaz looked at her with worry behind his usual seemingly emotionless eyes.

"I-it's okay. Wylan was really thoughtful when he offered making something warm for me. I'm waiting until it's done," she said, closing her eyes tightly, waiting for the pain to go away. He couldn't bear the sight. He knew it was just a cold, but Y/N was in pain and uncomfortable, and even though he rarely got any rest, he knew it made one feel better.

"Go rest, I'll bring it to your room" he insisted, getting up and helping her up on the way "What if I fall asleep an-" "That'd be great. We can heat it up in the morning. Now go." It almost sounded like an order. Right before she turned around to do as he said, she stopped in her tracks and looked at him once again.

"Thank you," she whispered, now actually turning around to leave.

Kaz watched as Y/N turned to the left and into the hallway that led to her room. After putting his gloves back on and taking his cane , which was resting on another one of the small couches around the area, he stepped into the kitchen, finding Wylan sitting on top of a counter with Jesper standing between his legs.

"How is she?" the Zemeni boy asked, a tint of worry in his tone "Her head started to hurt so I advised she'd go to bed for now, I'll get her the tea when it's done" he answered, leaving his cane propped up against a chair and combing his fingers trough his slightly wet hair "I'm sure this will help," Wylan said "it always did with me, anyway".

Silence took over the room. Not an uncomfortable silence, but not a comfortable one either. Kaz knew for a fact his friends would be all over each other if he wasn't present, but he felt the need to ask something. Something that Inej and Nina would giggle about if they weren't fast asleep or boarding a boat at the moment.

"How do you do it?" he questioned, looking directly at Wylan. "Do what?" "The tea" "Why?" Jesper interrupted, pertinent as ever. "In case this little family tradition makes her feel better... I'd like to make it for her". The silence was even louder now, one of astonishment too. Both men shared looks of confusion, as if they didn't hear him right, splitting in cheesy smiles when they realized they had, in fact, heard Mr. Dirty Hands clearly.

It was all broken by the loud whistle of the kettle, a sharp sound filling the room before Wylan hopped off the counter to turn it off. He carefully grabbed a mug and poured some tea in it, handing it to Kaz after. "I'll tell you when you come back, lover-boy" he smiled, making the raven haired boy roll his eyes as he was handed the cup.

He left his cane behind, exciting the kitchen once again. The tea smelt sickeningly sweet and had a powerful scent of garlic that made Kaz's nostrils and eyes itch a little as he was subtly looking down at it to make sure it didn't spill. He knocked twice, pausing briefly and then knocked two times again, all delicately as to not wake her up in case she was already asleep.

"Come in"

Her room was one of his favorite places in this world. Everything about it screamed Y/N. From the pile of unread books on the desk that left just enough space for her to write and paint to the neatly folded clothes that belonged to both of them. He had insisted he could make his own laundry, but she knew he'd never find the time to do so, and Y/N never really minded helping out.

She was sitting on the bed in her cotton nightgown, propped up against the headboard with the wind crashing on her face. Icy wind. Kaz left the tea on her bedside table, rushing over as fast as his leg allowed him to close the window and curtains. "No!" she whined like a little girl, almost making the man giggle. "It's the only thing keeping me sane. It's fresh." "It is not fresh, it's cold and you're sick," he argued, adjusting the blankets over his lover, careful not to touch her.

Y/N looked up at him in awe. Y/N knew her boyfriend would never in a million years admit to ever be bothered. Kaz Brekker had things in control. If someone was one step ahead, Kaz Brekker was three steps ahead. Kaz Brekker didn't know fear. Most times, she found that to be true, and she had certainly been surprised plenty of times by his mind. That's one of the things that made her fall for him. But she knew it was always different when it came to her.

He became a professional overthinker about her safety and comfort. He just wanted the best for his girl and tried hard to show it the way he could. It was quite adorable to see him worry like this, especially when she really was feeling sick.

Kaz noticed her stare on him after gently tucking her in. "What?" he asked, trying to stop himself from grinning like stupid. "I'm going to get you sick." "Nonsense dear, I never get sick" he smirks, taking off his gloves to caress her cheek. Y/N leaned into the contact before he felt him tense up briefly to then pull away. At first, she thought the contact might've been too much for him but then he said in a very much worried tone a small "You're burning up".

Kaz didn't like her being sick but he knew that if she'd been cold, the water would've risen to his chest and he'd be a helpless little boy all over again, because then it wouldn't've been his girl, the light of his life. That person would've been Jordie. And he was going to lose her. Just like he did with his brother. So he thanked her fever, selfishly.

The boy walked to the bathroom, and she could hear the distant sound of water running. Sleep was taking over her, but she had to stay awake to drink the tea, so she tried her best and this time, succeeded. A few seconds after, her boyfriend was back at her side, now sitting on the other side of the bed while squeezing off the excess of water from the drenching washcloth he brought with him in a small bowl-like plate.

"I'm cold" she hissed when he placed the cloth on her forehead, drying the very few droplets that glided down her temples. "You're fully covered. It's this or have you take a cold bath. You look ill". From the short distance between her face and his, she could see how Kaz's brows were slightly furrowed and his eyes held what looked like guilt.

"This is not your fault," she assured, seeing her boy's eyes look up to hers, his gaze softening at the words. "You couldn't've known it was going to rain, and you were also trying to protect me from seeing the bodies. I'll get better, I'll live"

"You better, love" he smirked, letting the room fall in a very comforting silence, his doubts dissipating instantly. Y/N knew how to make him feel better. She made him better.

After an hour of Kaz playing with her hair as she breathed in and out with her eyes closed but not sleeping, she drank the tea, refreshing her throat a little but not stopping the sting she had been feeling for a while now. When the washcloth dried up, the fever had gone down, Kaz touching her face to make sure himself. Truth is, these little details here and there are what helped him overcome his aversion little by little. There was a long way to go yet, but Y/N was sure he'd make it one day.

Y/N yawned loudly, and Kaz knew it was time for him to go. He didn't want to, though. "Get some sleep. If you need anything, knock twice on the wall" he ordered requested, placing the now empty cup on her nightstand. "Yeah," she responded, laying on her side and pulling the covers up to her nose. "And you should too" she mumbled, already slipping away to a deep slumber.

"Took three seconds" Kaz thought, smiling to himself as he put his gloves on. Y/N laid so peacefully, making the boy realize she was his favorite part of being alive. She had a heart that kept others strong. And all is well. He's okay, she's okay, the crows are okay and even though they live in madness city... it's all okay. He picked up the drenched clothes she discarded hours ago and took them with him, closing the door after blowing the candles that lit the room dimly.

Over the next days, Kaz managed to balance the time between planning their next heist and taking care of Y/N. Which meant endless cups of Wylan's tea made by him, changing the sheets with Inej's help, and opening the windows to her room when the weather allowed it. Thanks to Kaz and the crows' cares, she was back after three days. And she could swear on everything she held sacred she heard Kaz cough a couple of times during that week.

But he'd do it all over again just so she felt better, because she was the one and only thing he held sacred. And if her being well meant he'd have to deal with coughing and a runny nose, he would gladly take it.

[kit-kat-katie]

At dusk, the nightmares and monsters start to play

A/N: two fics (barely) in a month??? haven't done this since September (god it's been a long three months, thank you all for bearing with me through the end of the year). hope everyone has had a good holiday season and is looking forward to the new year! (there's gonna be more action in the next part, this is the set up dw 🫶)

as a future heads-up, most of the chapters will be smaller in size so I can have the time to complete one a month while I'm working on school work. I'm aiming for 1.5-2k words a chapter, but there may be more depending on what I have due at that time.

TW: medical trauma, trauma in general, sad vibes, reader has a knee injury

Pairing: Finnick x GN! Reader (romantic)

Summary: You pay Katniss a visit in the infirmary, only to find that she's more remorseful than revenge-filled, which is a good sign for your other knee. Afterwards, you seek your room and find a comforting memory there, along with Finnick.

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Nightmares.

That was something you had grown to live with, as a victor of the Hunger Games. Your mentors had your back when it came to the nightmares, at first - all you saw when you went to sleep were the dead tributes that you had killed or seen killed. Why were you the one to live, out of all of them?

You were hesitate to approach Katniss after she had a bad nightmare and ran off - she was probably one of the last people that wanted to see you. The last time she saw you, she put an arrow into your knee that gave you the cane and limp that you’re known for in District 13.

Although you tried to tell Haymitch it wasn’t a good idea, he insisted.

“What harm could it cause you to see her?” Haymitch asks before his eyes land on your cane. “…that doesn’t count, Sunny.”

“You’re lucky I still like both of you after that happened.” You vaguely gesture to your knee before grabbing your cane and standing up. “I’ll go find her when she needs me.”

You were sure that Katniss didn’t trust you, but you were positive that she trusted the nurses around you even less. You couldn’t blame her - you were the exact same way. President Snow had insisted that his victors were in the best shape possible, so you had to go to routine doctor’s visits. The prodding and poking was enough to drive anyone nuts, but the vague memory of needles and surgeries sends a shudder down your back as you quicken your pace.

It’s better if she kills me than some poor nurse or doctor.

~

Once you approach the hospital ward, you slowly make your way to Katniss’s room. You peak inside her room to see her sitting up in bed with a younger girl brushing her hair.

You lightly knock, as to not startle the two girls, before making your way into the room.

“Sorry about your knee.” Katniss grumbles as you collapse into a nearby chair and let out an exhausted sigh.

“It’s okay. I probably would’ve done a lot worse in your scenario.” You shrug before leaning your cane against the hospital bed.

“It’s not okay-“ She tries to argue, but you aren’t having any of it.

“What’s done is done, and I have to live with the consequences. You should save your care for a much more worthy cause.” You see her fidgeting with the pearl that Peeta gave her. “We’ll get him back, I promise.”

“They won’t want to.”

“Does it matter what they want? You have more power than you think, Katniss.” The girl behind Katniss starts to look familiar as your eyes glance between the two girls. “You’re Primrose Everdeen, right?”

The girl doesn’t say anything until Katniss lightly bumps her shoulder.

“I am.” She quietly answers while continuing to brush Katniss’s hair.

The three of you linger in the room with contemplative silence before a man comes to bring Katniss to President Coin and Plutarch.

Primrose sets the hairbrush aside as you fetch your cane from the side of the bed.

“Those are nurse scrubs, right?” You ask as you grab the bed’s railing in order to get onto your feet.

“I’m trying to help out, as much as I can.” She answers before starting to make the hospital bed.

“If you’re anything like your sister, you’ll be a great nurse.” You offer her a warm smile that she quickly replicates.

Perhaps the future isn’t as messed up as I thought it was.

~

You return to the living quarters side of District 13, only to be bombarded by a few small children. The younger kids always ran up to you when they hear the click click click of your cane hitting the floor, as you often had squirreled away treats or extra bits of food from meals. You were willing to share, so you offered them a few small candies that you had snatched from the front desk of the hospital ward.

“Don’t give yourselves a stomach ache,” You warn them with a wagging finger, “otherwise, you’ll end up back there.”

The kids promise to be careful before running off, and you continue your journey back to your room. You had been discharged from the hospital ward, after your strong insistence that you were fine, which you were, but you had to have daily check-ups to make sure that your knee was alright.

You had the appointments in the morning - it wasn’t like you were getting any sleep, anyways - but your progress continued to be positive. You weren’t going to be in fighting shape for a long time, and you might limp for the rest of your life, but the cane may get to be retired in another week or two.

Your bed can’t be found soon enough, and when you do find it, you set your cane on the ground before laying down on the bed. 

You had given so much effort into your capital duties - being a “model citizen”, doing exactly as President Snow asked - but you had never been as tired as you were now. The simple act of movement left you exhausted, the injury be damned, and all you wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep.

You couldn’t. Although you weren’t physically strong, your determination to keep going kept you mentally well. You had to be strong, you had to be sunny, for the District 12 children, for Katniss, and for Finnick.

Finnick had a rough adjustment to life in District 13, due to the absence of Mags and Annie as well as your injury. Despite being drugged up, once he heard that you were going under for surgery, he knocked out two guards and nearly stabbed a third with a pair of scissors before Haymitch pulled him off of the guard. Finnick had stayed by your side for days after he had been discharged and you were recovering. 

He didn’t leave your side after you were discharged from the hospital wing. He was the one who helped you back onto your feet and he encouraged you to keep going, even when you felt like giving up. 

Finnick was quiet when you weren’t around, however. He would lock himself in his room for hours, only coming out to talk with Haymitch or to get the next meal. He was never like that with you - his smile was never so bright as he carefully embraced you. The two of you would talk for hours about anything and everything - it reminded you of your days back in the Victor’s Village in District 4.

Cooking for four was a learned habit of yours - you didn’t want Mags to have to cook or eat alone, Annie struggled to take care of herself, and Finnick was so busy that he didn’t often have the time to have good meals. 

You quickly distributed the food into four different containers. Two went straight into your refrigerator - Finnick would be home late on a flight from the Capitol, so you wanted to have dinner with him. You sealed up the other two meals, placed them into a small satchel, and began your trip to Mags’ house.

She warmly welcomed you in before putting a kettle on. You handed her the meal, which she took with a gracious smile. Mags grabbed two forks out of her silverware drawer, and you took one of them before joining her in the dining room.

You couldn’t stay long, as you had another meal to deliver, but you did enjoy a nice glass of tea and a few bites of food. With Mags waving you off, you ventured across the way to Annie’s home.

You softly knock on the door, as to not startle her, before the door slams open. Annie appears while rapidly wiping the tears off of her face. She tries to speak, but you shake her head before handing her the food.

“Don’t worry about getting the container back, I have plenty.” You gently reassure her as she nods before shakily closing the door.

With a soft breath, you go back to your own house to enjoy a bit of well-earned peace and quiet. A couple hours go by before someone knocks on your door.

You open the door, only to see Finnick standing there, all dressed up in Capital wear. Despite everything he’s wearing, he still is your charming, very attractive mentor.

“Are you in the mood for company?” He asks with an irresistible smile.

“You’re lucky I made extras, pretty boy.” You tease before letting him in.

“Sunny?”

You sit up at the sound of his voice, albeit slowly so you don’t injury yourself.

“Finnick!” You break out of your thoughts to greet him as you gesture for him to sit next to you on your bed.

“Are you alright?” His eyebrows scrunch as he inspects you for injuries before gently sitting next to you.

His hand finds yours, and your fingers intertwine as you softly kiss his cheek.

“I’m good, I promise. Haymitch wanted me to see Katniss in the hospital ward.”

“She didn’t have a bow and arrow this time, right?” A teasing smile rests on his face as you lightly shove him away.

“Very funny, Finnick.” You roll your eyes before looking over at him. “How are you doing?”

“Better now that I’m with you, honey.” He leans in to kiss you, and you indulge him in one kiss before locking eyes with him.

He lies to you about how he feels at times. You know it’s because he doesn’t want you to worry, but you end up worrying more because of it. This time, you only see merriment and a twinkle of mischief in his eyes as he looks at you.

That’s Finnick being Finnick.

“Isn’t it almost meal time?” You ask before grabbing your cane.

“It’s getting close, but we should get going if we want to make it there on time.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” You poke Finnick with the bottom of your cane as he happily laughs.

You rest your head on his shoulder as you enjoy this moment of tranquility and happiness. You don’t know what tomorrow’s going to look like, but you can only hope that it’ll be just as good, if not better, than today.

tagging ->  @yokolesbianism , @avoxrising, @honethatty12, @sweetybuzz25, @catvader101, @sollum, @emerald-valkyrie, @randomgurl2326, @caitsymichelle13, @bcbci, @iris1587 (send a request or comment on this fic to be added to the taglist!)

[frvnkcastles]

SOMETHING TO DREAM ABOUT ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: Various moments between you, Frank and your glasses. (Fem!reader, some descriptions added.)

Word Count: 2.9k

Author’s note: Y’all, I am so nervous posting this because I have never posted on Tumblr before but I figured I might as well. I’ve been posting on AO3 for years now but I think Tumblr might be more active and eager to react so here I am :) I’m still figuring everything out so bear with me!

He was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. That was immediately crystal-clear to you — even with old, fading bruises and fresh cuts on his face, even with a beaten nose and an eternal scowl etched onto his rough features, he was nothing short of breath-taking and you wanted nothing more than to spend the entire evening mapping out all the details of his face.

But, considering you were at your friend’s birthday party, that was probably not appropriate.

Maybe Frank would have preferred it, though, because this definitely wasn’t his scene. He was only here because he had a soft spot for your best friend, something she had mentioned to you in passing before but you had still never seen him apart from the news. He didn’t look so scary now, obviously awkward and uncomfortable sipping a beer in the corner of the room while your best friend’s other guests mingled with each other. He had even bothered to put on the one black button-up he had without blood on it.

”Okay, so, I see you eyeing Frank and I’m kinda glad, ’cause I have to admit I had an ulterior motive with this party”, your best friend intervened with your thoughts, and with a frown melting onto your forehead, you turned to face her again.

”Don’t be mad, but I totally think you two would hit it off! You’re this… anxious ball of love and kindness and he’s a protective ole’ teddy bear who’s been through the wringer. You’re both introverts, you both love dogs—”, she continued rambling, and with a scoff, you waved your hand to stop her from going any further.

”Save the pitch, I don’t think The Punisher wants anything to do with me”, you argued, although your gaze still lingered on him. It was safe to say that you were wary when it came to relationships — blame it on the familial trauma and the worst examples when it came to marriage, but you also knew that your best friend wouldn’t set you up with just anyone.

Pouting, she took your drink from you. ”Do me a favour, please. If you hate him, I’ll never try this again”, she insisted, and with a huff, you glanced at her and then back at the brooding, tall man. He did look good in that button-up.

Without a word, you adjusted your glasses and stepped past your friend to make it towards Frank, not even quite sure what you would say to him. In the end, you settled for good old,

”Hi.”

He had noticed you already. Fuck, of course he had. You were adorable in every possible definition of the word, with your floral dress and your black, heavy boots that almost matched his, not to mention the shaped glasses hanging on your nose. His throat closed up at the way your dark curls fell on your collarbones, and the sight of your twinkling smile made him hastily draw a sip from his beer to avoid dry mouth.

”Hey”, he grunted before licking his lips and nodding towards your friend, who was definitely not watching the two of you from behind the cake. ”She make you come up to me?”

Your smile fell at the idea of being the umpteenth woman your friend had sent his way. ”Yeah”, you swallowed, ”does she do this to you a lot?” A wave of nerves washed over you and you began fiddling with your fingers, something Frank noticed immediately, as well as the chipped nail polish.

”Nah. Just mentioned that there’d be someone special tonight”, he corrected you, but his words did very little to ease your anxiety — if anything, being put in the spotlight made it worse. He could see it on your face, and it pushed a chuckle out of him before he extended a hand for you to take. ”Frank”, he introduced himself curtly, and with a renewed smile, you took his much, much larger hand and shook it gently.

Okay, maybe approaching him hadn’t been the worst idea.

He certainly was glad you did. Before he knew it, you had gotten under his skin, and the more time he spent with you, the more obvious it became.

He was still kept up at night thinking about that time you had stitched him up for the first time. He had a nasty gash on his hip, and the tension in your apartment had been thick enough to cut with a knife — you had been on your knees, he had been on the couch, stripped down to just his boxers and giving you words of encouragement when you hesitated with the needle.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He had hissed in pain when you had poked him with the needle and you had apologized profusely, prompting a gruffly spoken ”’S okay, sweetheart. You’re doin’ good.” Then he had really looked at you in the dimly-lit living room and the words had just tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them.

”Ya got new glasses”, he had noted, stating the obvious and catching your attention. You had halted, looked up at him and broken into a ridiculously sweet smile, one that still made his heart do flips when he thought back to it.

”You noticed”, you had hummed softly, clearly touched by his attentiveness, and he could swear he could pinpoint the exact moment he knew he wanted to kiss you.

”Yeah”, he had breathed out, ”they look nice on you.”

You made him feel at home without even knowing, your presence always reassuring and encouraging, your positive energy and big, sympathetic heart an absolute contrast to his gruff, scary demeanor. And yet, it worked so well. He longed to touch you, hold you, kiss you, shield you from the world and learn everything about you. He was undeniably falling for you and there was nothing he could do about it even if he wanted to.

Your friend had heard all about it, fucking Red had heard all about it, though that was more so because one skip of Frank’s heart had exposed him entirely. Lieberman hadn’t heard much but picked up on it easily, right before proceeding to tease Frank about it and then declare being in love looked good on him. And now, the group Curt had introduced him to was hearing all about it.

”She’s real good, y’know?” Frank thought out loud, a ridiculous grin on his face as he looked down at the cup of coffee in his hands and huffed. ”It’s—it’s weird, I guess. Didn’t think I’d feel that way about anyone again. And don’t get me wron’, I… I miss my wife like crazy. Every day. But this girl… lemme tell you, she makes me feel like, uh, like there’s hope. Yeah. Yeah, that’s… that’s kinda cliché. But she makes me wanna believe that every day doesn’t have to just be survivin’. There can be somethin’ real and meaningful. Because she is. She is so fuckin’ special. She’s kind and understanding and against all odds she… it’s the way she looks at me, yeah? Like I ain’t a monster or—or broken. She looks at me like I’m…”, Frank explained, trailing off as he struggled to find the right words. You looked at him like he was beautiful. Good. Worthy. He still fought to believe in it, but you made it a little easier for him.

”Sounds like you really care about her, son”, one of the older men chimed in when Frank failed to speak up again, and with an almost embarrassed chuckle, he glanced at his fingertips before giving the man a look.

”Yes, sir. Got that right”, he confirmed, his heart jumping at his chest at the mere thought of you and your bashful smiles. There was no feeling sweeter than making you grin like that, awkward but flattered, like you didn’t believe you were as cute as he had said. But you were. You were.

”Why don’t you ask her out? Life is too short to pine”, another older man scoffed, a little unimpressed with Frank’s lack of action, and at that, the Castle snorted.

”Nah, I… I want to. Just feels a lil’ unfair to her, ’s all. How can I drag her into all my shit, y’know?” Frank contemplated with a frown, and at that, Curtis finally took the turn to speak, a small smile on his face.

”It’d be her decision, Frank. It’s scary, it is, but… she’s a grown woman. It’s not unfair to give her the choice to stick by your side. I mean, who knows — maybe she’ll reject you”, he pointed out tauntingly, and at that, Frank laughed — great pep talk. Nevertheless, he knew Curt had a point. ”But maybe she’ll say yes. And maybe it won’t be a walk in the park but any baggage is easier for two to carry than one. If she wants you like you want her… it’s not dragging her into anything. That’s what companionship is. Standing by your loved one even when it gets tough”, Curt continued, before speaking the words that finally convinced Frank, ”would you not do the same for her?”

The next time Frank saw you, you were once again meeting your mutual friend. The diner she had coaxed you both into was bustling with people and noise and yet, the only thing you seemed to notice was each other. As soon as Frank entered the quaint diner, he spotted you laughing with your friend, the joy in your voice reaching his ears in a way that had him suppressing a smile while making his way over to the right booth. His tall frame striding past the other people caught your eye almost immediately, and when you saw his dark eyes staring back at you, your laugh melted into a shy smile while greeting him.

”You look nice”, Frank noted while seating himself opposite you and your friend, his nod directed at the both of you but the way his eyes lingered on you made heat crawl to your cheeks. Picking at the sleeves of your dress, you couldn’t help but wonder if you looked nice enough, and on cue, Frank leaned in while licking his lips. ”Real nice”, he emphasized, and it made your heart swell as you met his gaze.

”Thank you”, you breathed out, ”you too, Frankie.” Between the nickname, your signature perfume and the kind look in your eyes, Frank could have combusted right there and then, but instead simply leaned back in his seat and exhaled.

”Oh, my order’s up, I think”, your friend cleared her throat with a knowing smile. ”Why don’t you two catch up?” she planned mischievously before slinking away, leaving you and Frank chuckling awkwardly while observing one another.

God, he was so pretty. He put your stomach in knots and filled your chest with butterflies and made your knees weak and you so wanted to tell him but in the end… you just smiled up at him in silence, hoping he’d realize how much you adored him.

”Hey, this is gonna be weird”, you broke the peace, getting up from your seat so you could slide next to his and give him a doe-eyed look, the kind that made his breathing pick up. ”But your shirt looks really soft and my glasses have so many fingerprints on them”, you finished, and immediately, he choked out a laugh but gave you an encouraging nod.

You grinned and reached for the hem of his t-shirt, trying your damnedest not to accidentally brush against his bare skin while you took off your glasses and quickly began swiping the lenses with the material. Frank was speechless, unable to do anything except stare at your teeth sinking into your bottom lip while you diligently scrubbed the glasses.

”Hey, uh… I was thinkin’”, he coughed, swallowing thickly when you put your glasses back on but remained close to him, the height difference forcing you to look up at him. ”Yeah, uh, I was wonderin’ if you, uh, maybe wanted to do somethin’ together some time? Just the two a’us?” he questioned with his eyebrows furrowed as if he was doubting himself as soon as the words left his mouth.

He looked a little shy, even, his lips twitching adorably as he eyed you carefully, and certain that your heart would burst, you just managed a nod.

”Yeah?”

The sheer amazement in his voice made you giddy to a point where you couldn’t hold back an incredulous laugh, nodding again and again to confirm. ”I would really like that. I could make you dinner?” you proposed, and with narrowed eyes, Frank tilted his head at you, suddenly spiked with confidence. He was so used to being nervous with you, but now, realizing you felt the same way around him, he couldn’t help but feel a little smug.

”Think we could do it together? Wouldn’t want you put you out. And, you know, more time for us to spend together, right?” he planned, and with your heart swinging in your chest, you exhaled shakily.

”Does tomorrow work for you?” you uttered out, unable to believe you were a promise away from having a date with Frank. And with the same, astonished thought, Frank broke into a grin.

”It’s a date, sweetheart.”

And as promised, he showed up to your apartment the next evening and helped you with the pasta meal you had agreed upon. Both of you got over your initial nerves and in a blink of an eye, it was almost midnight and you were laughing on your couch, your loud cackle probably disturbing your neighbors but giving Frank an absolute sense of peace. He snorted into his wine glass over his own, stupid joke, his ego boosted by making you so amused and entertained.

”I am really glad you came tonight, Frankie”, you sighed, a shy smile taking over as you eyed him and placed a hand over his. His stomach swung at the feeling and he exhaled before turning to face you and nodding.

”Me too, sweetheart”, he whispered. Before either of you could say anything else, he noticed the stray eyelash on one of your lenses and leaned forward. ”Stay still f’me”, he spoke lowly, and not daring to even breathe, you watched the concentration tug on his eyebrows and narrow his eyes as he sat an inch from your face.

Carefully, he lifted his finger up to your glasses and with his trimmed nail, caught the eyelash and observed it briefly before blowing it away. The warm air touched upon your face, as well, and you exhaled heavily when he seemed to stay right there, not moving even though he was so, so close.

Fuck it, he thought. He had spent enough time fantasizing about the touch and taste of your lips — he needed to take action. And so, he gently placed a hand on your jaw and pulled you in to close the imperceptible distance between. Your lips met in the middle and your eyes closed on instinct, your hands clamoring up to his knees to balance yourself as he kissed you; first, sweet and tender, but eventually he leaned in deeper and his tongue took your breath away.

The air got hot and heavy and your hand wound up wrapped up in the chest of Frank’s button-up — the same one he had worn the first time you had met, and you felt light-headed when he pulled away. Your eyes met for a fleeting second, but no words were needed for him to dive back in and paw at your hips so you would get the hint and straddle him. You pushed him back onto the cushions enough to sit on his lap, his back pressed against the couch and his feet planted firmly on the ground as he let you tower over him.

And it was so goddamn better than he had ever been able to imagine.

When he was finally balanced over you in your bed, your chest rising and falling beneath him and his chain hanging above your face, he reached to take your glasses off of your eyes. It took you a few blinks to get accustomed to him being right there, the cuts and bruises on his face looking so soft now, and you slowly smiled while taking in the sight of him. From the endlessly deep and dark eyes to the swollen lips, he was beautiful and you couldn’t help but feel so lucky to be right here with him, legs wrapped around his hips and his fingers interlocking with yours.

He made damn sure to grab your glasses for you the next morning, too.

And it became a routine. Still now, an entire year later, he rolled over to you on the bed and attached his lips to your temple while murmuring a husky good mornin’ baby into your skin, before reaching over onto the nightstand and grabbing your glasses. While your eyes got oriented to the morning light, he gently unfolded the frames and slid the glasses onto your face, a smile curling his lips upwards as he did.

”There’s my pretty girl”, he mumbled before leaning down to kiss your forehead.

Yeah, he was pretty damn in love.

[sanslovesblog]

Unraveling Madness: San's Dark Secrets Pt. 2

Summary: You're a brilliant psychiatrist, but you were no stranger to internal conflicts. You had accepted the task of treating Choi San, the psychiatric ward's most dangerous patient due to his violent episodes. Despite skepticism from other staff members, you believed that beneath his destructive exterior lay a vulnerable human being, yearning for understanding and acceptance.

Trigger warning: mentions of harming others, self harm, trauma

Teaser | Master list | Part 3

As Dr. Y/n entered the therapy room, she noticed Choi San sitting in one of the armchairs, his gaze fixed on the door. The air was heavy with anticipation, and she knew that today would be different. She closed the door behind her, the sound echoing through the room like a silent declaration of intent.

"Today, we're going to talk about something new," she began, taking a seat opposite him. "We're going to explore your past traumas, the events that shaped you into the person you are today."

Choi San stared at her, his face a stoic mask hiding his innermost feelings. "Why do you care so much? Everyone else has given up on me. Why should you be any different?"

Dr. Y/n paused, considering her response carefully. "Because I believe there's more to you than just the violence. I see a complex individual struggling to cope with their past." She paused, allowing her words to sink in. "It's my hope that together, we can uncover the root causes of your pain and find a way to heal them."

Choi San studied her carefully, his expression guarded but hinting at vulnerability. "You really think you can make a difference?" He asked quietly, his voice barely audible.

"Yes," she replied firmly, her resolve unwavering.

"I truly believe that we can make a difference in your life. But it all depends on you – whether you're willing to trust me enough to share your deepest fears and pains."

Choi San watched her closely, his eyes tracing every subtle movement of her face. There was something in her gaze that resonated within him, stirring long-dormant feelings of connection and understanding. It wasn't pity or sympathy he saw reflected in her eyes, but genuine empathy and a desire to help. And somehow, that small glimmer of hope reassured him that perhaps things could change.

You continued to delve deeper int Choi San's childhood, hoping to uncover more about the root causes of his violent behavior. "What's your relationship with your parents?" You asked him. Choi San hesitated for a moment before describing his father as a strict and demanding man who expected nothing short of perfection from him. "My father would often physically abuse me if I didn't meet his standards, leaving me with bruises and scars" he said looking down, clenching his fists as his voice cracks with emotion.

Despite this, Choi San still felt a sense of loyalty and duty towards his father, as if he were the only one who truly understood him. As the sessions progressed, you began to see a pattern in the way Choi San dealt with his emotions. He would internalize his pain and anger, often taking it out on himself in the form of self-harm. "Instead of harming yourself, let's try a different approach" you added. You decided to approach the subject differently. Instead of focusing on the negative aspects of his past, you encouraged Choi San to express his emotions through art therapy.

You gave him a set of paints, canvas, and other art supplies, and asked him to create something that represented how he felt inside. At first, Choi San was skeptical, but as he began to paint, he found himself pouring all of his anger and sadness onto the canvas. The more he painted, the more cathartic the experience became.

[sunnyrealist]

Chapter 35: Fantasy and Fear

The Sun, the Moon, and All Our Stars

Summary and Details…

Artwork was created by @giselsann-opencommissions!

Chapter Background and Summary: Sebastian and Kate are on an adventurous camping trip in the Scottish Highlands. On the third day, the lovers discover a cave hidden behind a large waterfall that does not appear on any map. Since the trip is meant to be one of exploration and treasure-hunting, they decide to check it out. The cave gives both of them a strange, ominous feeling, but just as Sebastian tells Kate they should turn back, they are tempted to continue into the depths by butterflies and mysterious, unnatural flora. When they reach the furthest area of the cave, they watch from above as a bookstore suddenly materializes. What could it mean?

Pairing: 25-year-old, post-Azkaban Sebastian Sallow x Kate Mayflower (my OC)

Content warnings: In general, this story is rated 18+, so MNDI. This particular chapter features discussion of past trauma and incarceration, feelings of hopelessness, panic, and losing consciousness.

The full chapter is available below the cut; it can also be found on AO3 (link is posted below). Please leave some feedback. A comment, like, or Kudos would be quite motivational. 🥰

Chapter 35: Fantasy and Fear

Kate and Sebastian both crouch down to get a better look at what has become of the pit. It has somehow transformed into the interior of a bookstore. 

There are shelves filled with magical artifacts and books of all shapes and sizes. At the front are two large windows and a door made of stained glass and golden oak, just like the door at Kate’s cottage. It appears to be dark outside the bookstore. Nighttime, Kate thinks. At the rear of the store, there is a large wooden desk with a register, a vase of sunflowers, and two framed signs. One says, “Ask about the Baked Sweet of the Week!” and the other has information about a Muggle Literature Club. A self-writing quill dips into a pot of ink and scribbles some notes. Behind the desk is a swinging door, which Kate imagines would likely lead to a stock room. 

Upon reading the framed signs, Kate gasps and her hands meet over her mouth in shock. It’s what she has always dreamed of…

“Sebastian… it’s… it’s my bookstore, I think,” Kate marvels. “I don’t understand how-”

A bell jingles at the front door. A man enters and quietly closes the door behind him. When he turns around, it’s Sebastian’s turn to inhale sharply. The man is… him. Sebastian Sallow - but an older Sebastian. He is wearing brown trousers with a matching jacket and tan vest. Based on his appearance, it looks like time has passed. They are seeing the future. Sebastian’s freckles remain, but his new additions are a mustache, a short, well-kempt beard, and a few wrinkles on his forehead and next to his eyes. 

“What the-” A wide-eyed Sebastian begins but then is cut off.

Older Sebastian calls out, “Honey? It’s me!”

There is a pause, and then, from behind the swinging door comes a reply in Kate’s voice: “Just a minute!”

The older Sebastian meanders around the shop, tidying up while he waits.

“Sebastian,” Kate whispers in a sharp tone to her boyfriend. “Are you seeing this?”

“Yes,” he replies. “Yes, and I don’t… I don’t understand. This cannot be real. It just cannot be real.” He reaches out to put a hand on Kate’s shoulder, as if to ensure she is actually still here with him.

“And yet, we are both seeing it…” Kate murmurs. 

The swinging door opens. Examining the figure waddling through the doorway from top to bottom causes Kate’s eyebrows to rise. Her mouth drops. It’s her. Kate. Older, with smile lines, her hair in an updo, and very, very, very pregnant. She makes her way to the older Sebastian, who hugs and kisses her as a greeting.

Sebastian and Kate both turn red, transfixed on the scene below them.

“My love… What is this? What is going on?” Sebastian asks Kate.

“I don’t know…” Kate responds, baffled. “Is it the future?”

“I just checked on the girls at home,” Older Sebastian tells Older Kate. “Everything is fine, but your mum is definitely ready to go home for the night.” He chuckles, then pauses. “How are you feeling, Sunshine?” He places his hand on her enormous stomach.

“I am feeling alright today, but my feet ache. They’re so swollen. I just don’t fit in my boots anymore, love. I’m going to look up a charm this weekend to widen my shoes,” Older Kate explains tiredly. As Older Sebastian caresses her tummy, she smiles and quietly says, “Any day now. We timed this pregnancy out well.”

Older Sebastian grins. “Yes, we sure did. I’ll be off for the summer soon, and then we won’t have to rely on your mum so much.”

Older Kate’s mouth flattens. “Well, we’ve never had multiples before, sweetheart. I wouldn’t count on forsaking mum’s help just yet.” She takes a deep breath and then exhales, giving Older Sebastian a serious look. “No more after this. I mean it.”

“Yes, Mrs. Sallow, we agreed,” Older Sebastian replies, leaning in to kiss her. “No more babies.” A sly smile takes over his face. “Though accidents sometimes happen, you know…”

Older Kate swats him. “You’re insatiable!” She giggles, then softly reminds him, “We hardly even have room at the cottage for the sweet babes on the way.”

“I know.” Older Sebastian leans down and kisses her belly. “In all seriousness, I can’t wait to meet our new little stars.” Older Kate smiles with tenderness. He stands back up and embraces her in fondness. “Would you like me to lock up for the night? It’s just past six.”

The couple watches it all from above in rapt attention, filled with warmth. Sebastian’s eyesight becomes blurry; rubbing at his eyes, he realizes he’s actually crying. Seeing his older self so happy, hopeful, and successful, undoubtedly committed to the love of his life, makes him feel things he has never dared to before. Since meeting Kate, he’s been dreaming about a secure future, and here it is before his very eyes. And as for Kate, her eyes are fixed on the older versions of themselves, shocked to see everything in her head brought to life. 

Swept up in the fantasy, both are surprised to suddenly experience chills. It feels as though it has gone from summer to winter temperatures in the span of seconds. Kate glances at Sebastian in shock and is about to question it until their focus is directed back to the scene below.

There is abrupt, loud, and aggressive banging on the front door at the bookshop. Older Sebastian and Kate are startled, breaking apart from their hug. The windows of the shop fog up, freezing, and then, a much older man enters the shop. He is wearing a dark blue top hat and robes marked with the “M” for the Ministry of Magic. Judging from his badge, he clearly works for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He slams the door closed behind him, and Older Kate jumps in surprise.

“Well, well, well…” the man says, as though he is amused. “I’ve finally found my top fighter after all these years.”

Older Sebastian protectively moves in front of Older Kate. 

Kate realizes that her breathing is now visible in the cool air. 

“I’m here to collect you, Sallow,” the man continues. “I’ve never had a prisoner as capable and scrappy as you. You’re going to help me pay off my betting debts to the other officers.”

Older Sebastian seems frozen now, his mouth gaping.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me from your Azkaban days, Sallow! I fondly remember you and your screams all too well. And when I bring you back home, we’ll… reacquaint ourselves,” the man tells him menacingly.

“I’m a free man,” Sebastian firmly says with a sneer. “Leave us alone. Get out of this shop.”

“Free? You’ll never be free, boy,” the man answers. “In fact, I have a warrant for your arrest… It took quite a bit of fabrication, but I managed…”

Older Kate pulls out her wand, determined to put an end to the exchange. “Stupe-”

“EXPELLIARMUS!” the man calls out faster. Her wand flies out of her hand as she yelps.

“Now, now, Sallow...” The man smiles, his teeth yellow. “Come with me willingly, or I’ll have your old friend feed off of her.” He gestures towards the window, where a Dementor now hovers. “I wonder… Could it feed off of unborn children as well? Now, that would be quite the experiment…”

As he opens the door, Older Sebastian blanches, freezing. The Dementor glides into the shop. Older Kate screams as it approaches her.

Suddenly, the scene disappears entirely, and Kate and Sebastian are left in complete darkness in the depths of the cave. Kate is shivering and has a feeling of emptiness - that all of her hope and happiness is lost and will never return again. She somehow manages to shakily pull her wand from her pocket.

“Lumos,” she finally chokes out. 

Now that Kate can see again, she realizes that, while nothing else may have been real, the Dementor is. She’s never seen one in person before - only pictures in textbooks, years ago. The terrifying creature is floating straight towards Sebastian, whose face is devoid of color. He seems to be paralyzed in fear. She watches in shock as he seems to submit to it, accepting a cruel fate. The Dementor’s mouth opens for its kiss…

“NO!!!” Kate yells.

The Dementor doesn’t even take notice of her. It is dead-set on Sebastian, who weakly whispers, “Lumos.” Nothing happens. His face, once filled with emotion, goes completely blank as the Dementor begins its work. It appears as though the creature is sucking away Sebastian’s soul. Suddenly, more Dementors appear. There have to be at least ten of them, all headed towards Sebastian. His eyes are dead.

“NO! You can’t have him!” Kate shouts, trembling in fear. “NO!”

Kate can see that the situation is dire. She’s not sure if Sebastian is even conscious anymore. If anyone is going to save them, it will have to be her. 

Holding her wand outstretched, Kate slowly approaches the group of Dementors, seeking to put herself in between them and Sebastian. She has never felt so afraid in her entire life. Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes and attempts to calm herself, even though she is shaking. 

In her mind, it’s Christmas with her family, and Kate is ten years old, wearing a frilly red and green frock with a bow in her hair. Her papa hauls a large tree into the ballroom, and Irene, with a huge grin, uses sparkly white ornaments to decorate it. Kate follows her nose into her family’s kitchen. She can smell gingerbread baking and sees images of herself, as a child, decorating the biscuits with icing. Her impeccably-dressed mamma presents perfectly wrapped gifts to each of them. Kate’s extended family sings a Yuletide carol, while the flames of a huge fireplace warm her heart. Her Auntie Paula sneakily allows her to take her first sip of wine, to which she gags and then giggles. Outside the huge window of the ballroom, snow is falling. She breathes into the glass and draws a heart with her finger, outlining a snowman that has been charmed to wave at guests leaving the party.

Kate’s eyes fly open, determined. “Expecto Patronum!!!”

Blue light erupts from her wand, and her sea lion Patronus materializes, swimming through the air straight towards the Dementors. They all shrink back and begin to float away, repelled by her powerful, incredibly joyful memory. The sea lion swiftly chases them back into the darkness.

When Kate can no longer see any of the foul monsters, she rushes to Sebastian’s side, while her Patronus stands guard. 

“Sebastian! Sebastian!” she cries out, trying to get him to respond in some way. “Please, Sebastian!” She lightly slaps his cheek.

He doesn’t stir. Eyes closed, he appears asleep. She’s never seen his face so oddly pale. When she takes his ice-cold hand, he is unresponsive and limp. She quickly puts her ear down to his chest to make sure his heart is still beating. To her relief, it is, but it’s so faint and seems unsteady that she begins to panic.

“Fuck! Shit!” Kate shouts in anguish, looking around hopelessly. There is obviously no one to help. “Sebastian!”

For a full minute, she continues her attempts to wake him up to no avail.

She knows she must keep her mind from spiraling if they are going to reach safety outside of the cave. 

Though Kate is frantic, she pretends to be brave. In an attempt to use a steady tone, she soothingly tells her boyfriend, “Sebastian… I-I don’t know if you can hear me, but… you’re okay. It’s going to be okay. I’m going to get us out of here. I-It will be alright.” 

How, though? 

She warily peeks at the pitch-black corner where the Dementors disappeared, to make sure they will not attack again. Then, she attempts to pick Sebastian up, quickly realizing that that will not work. She is petite and unathletic, not strong enough even with adrenaline. Wracking her brain, she considers all of the possible ways she could bring him to safety. 

I could use a feather-light charm… but carrying him would still be awkward and potentially dangerous, especially once we leave the cave and have to maneuver away from the waterfall…

Oh! Wait! I know!

Curving her wand tip in the shape of a C, she casts, “Mobilicorpus.”

Thank goodness for Professor Ronen and my O in Charms…

Sebastian’s body floats into the air, his head lolling a bit, as he is unconscious. When she tests out ambling backwards, his form follows her closely. She breathes a sigh of relief.

“Everything is alright, Seb,” she whispers calmly. “I’m getting us out of here. Just hold on, alright? I promise - I promise - we’ll make it out alive. I’ll get you to camp.” She pauses. “I love you, Seb. It’s going to be okay.”

Kate’s sea lion Patronus does a flip and waves a fin encouragingly as she leads Sebastian out of that part of the cave. She heads back in the direction from which they came, but after walking for a while, she realizes that the butterflies, mushrooms, flowers, and vines have all disappeared from the cave. Her brow furrows in confusion until she deduces that they must have been a trick of the Dementors to lure them further into the cave. 

It was all an elaborate trap.

If Sebastian had been alone… She doesn’t allow herself to finish the thought. She has to focus.

Remembering the Devil’s Snare, her wand is ready to cast Lumos. They pass through the menacing tendrils easily, and minutes later, she can see sunlight once more.  

[helloemmaz3]

Random rant on Rob Zombie's halloween movies:

Many fans of the franchise were critical of the film, claiming that Zombie ruined Micheal Myers by humanizing him and giving him a childhood backstory, thus ruining his mystery and scariness, and hurting the franchise.

Firstly I don't think those who argue this seem to understand that Rob Zombie's Michael was his own version of Michael Myers not a continuation of the Carpenter's Myers hence why they both have different personalities and carry themselves differently. I'm stating this given the scene in the 2007 Halloween film where Michael shows Laurie a picture of him and her as children. In that moment, Michael Myers was clearly not the "Shape" or "The Boogeyman '' Loomis had portrayed him to be. He was a damaged person with severe mental health issues that was mistreated by society, and this is the image of Michael Rob Zombie wanted to convey.

Secondly, if I'm being honest with y'all, giving Michael Myers a believable backstory was refreshing after the ridiculous directions the Halloween franchise had previously taken during that time. 

Lastly, does changing Michael's character hurt the franchise? In all honesty, I doubt it. As a matter of fact, I believe the change added more subtleties to Michael Myers than simply being the epitome of evil. Compared to his original counterpart, RZ Michael is much more complex and nuanced. His backstory, motivations, and personality make him more interesting than just a white mask wearing killer. As a result, he managed to be both the most brutal and softest version of Myers I have ever seen. I think the franchise benefitted from the little nuance.

Regarding Rob Zombie's Myers, I want to explain the reason as to why Rob Zombie changed up his character, and the answer is simple: 

He didn’t want his version of Halloween to be stylized or continued in Carpenter's vision, but his own. Thus he created his own version of Michael Myers. 

I believe the reason for people's disdain for this version of the character can be traced back to this, the fact that Rob actually went on to follow his own artistic vision rather than the traditional one.

His remake wasn't a remake it was supposed to be in the eyes of fans who expected a traditional Halloween remake. He acknowledged that there was no point in approaching the story of halloween the exact same way because honestly what would be the point of just doing the same thing as the original again when the original is already a classic?

A good remake should always aim to re-imagine things and show us something different than the original in my opinion; otherwise there is no point for the remake to exist.

It might seem pedantic but his Halloween was a reimagining- so he was taking it from the perspective of "what if this is how things played out"

His film didn’t erase any of the previous films or lore. Through his version of Michael and showing how his character affects others, he takes a different approach to Halloween that is more grounded on emotion and tragedy.

This is best illustrated by how Zombie portrayed the death of Michael's victims. Zombie chooses to linger on the pain and fear of Michael's victims and not just make quick and easy deaths people would enjoy. He never wanted viewers to enjoy the death Michael causes but be uncomfortable by it as they witnessed how his horrific acts caused havoc among those around him. The first instance of this is in Michael's fatal confrontation with his bully, in which the kid begged Michael to stop, but Michael ended up beating him to death. Even after Michael's brutal attacks and killings, in the second installment, people are left with mental, emotional and/or physical scars.

Rather than a quick slasher flick about a man in a white mask killing off babysitters at night, Rob Zombie's Halloween movie seems more like a story about trauma.

All in all, Rob Zombie has a very specific type of film, and if you're not for that style, his duology probably weren't going to float your boat. His Michael Myers take was deliberately designed to be a real-life-grounded serial killer because his goal was to build a real life, "nurtured" psychopathic killer from the ground up rather than Evil possessing a random kid one day. You know, a massive storytelling difference on purpose.

I feel like Zombie's version shouldn't honestly be compared to the original since he wasn't trying to follow what the original Halloween did because he never wanted to copy and paste what John Carpenter did. He wanted to go through his own vision. I actually appreciate that it deviates from the original because John Carpenter told RZ to make the movie his own, and I'd rather a movie try to be different.

Seeing how this is the end of my rant, I also want to add that Studio interference certainly affected the movie since the backstory was actually supposed to be one complete movie that he was forced to shorten and fit into the completed movie. The second movie was going to be the actual Halloween. Which would have been so interesting to see!

This does not mean I think the movie is without fault . In fact a major criticism I myself have for the movie is more about the writing itself. There were times when the dialogue seemed forced and cheesy, like i lowkey feel like Zombie shouldn't be writing his own scripts or at least have others to edit the script. And god don't get me started on the unneeded and disgusting sexual assault scene that was there for "realism" or shock value. I really preferred the prison guard scene that displayed Michael's brute strength and unstoppable nature, especially the scene where he let all the other patients out. 

If you didn't agree or like this rant, then tough shit...I’m fucking with you, I’d like to read your thoughts, just don't crucify me. I don't expect people to agree honestly because there is more hate than love for this movie, but i do want y'all to understand this movie is Rob Zombie's own thing, not a continuation of the orginal Michael Myers.

If you did like this rant then here is a really good analysis of both Rob Zombie's Halloween movies, this guy did a really great explaining shit I couldn’t put into words:

[make-me-imagine]

Hey, I hope you had a nice holiday and had fun with your family. If it is ok with you, can you do a, The Hobbit/LOTHRS ship, please.

Features: I am a short woman 4'9.  I have curly golden honey-blond hair which goes to my bra-strap length, I have dark chocolate brown eyes, and a little bit of chubbiness in my cheeks. I have a butterfly-shaped scar on my forehead which is from skin cancer from when I was 5-6 years old.

Name/Nickname: Madison, Ma, Papillon (Which means Butterfly in French), Piccolo Guerriero (Which means Little Warrior in Italian. I am part Italian and French on my mother's side.), Little Butterfly, Sunshine, and Little Rose.

Disorder/Disability I have: Dyslexia, Epilepsy, and Anxiety.

Personality: I am a sweet, loving, stubborn, caring, gentle, and understanding woman but if you mess with me/hurt me, my family, friends, or the people I love I become scary-scary.

If I was in The Hobbit or LOTHRS I would be: a witch or a Hobbit.

Personality: I am a sweet, loving, stubborn, caring, gentle, and understanding woman but if you mess with me/hurt me, my family, friends, or the people I love I become scary-scary.

Likes/love to do: I love to drawing/painting, embroidery, reading (I am a bit of a bookworm), anime, cosplaying, doing any type of math, loves plants/nature, and baking in my free time.

I don't like/afraid/scared of: afraid of Spiders, don't like people insulting or making fun of family/Love ones/Friends, and I don't like being yelled at because it scares me from past traumas and anxiety.

Style: I love to wear, off-the-shoulder shirts, leggings, jeans, button-up shirts, dresses, and once in a while a shirt with a long skirt. My home aesthetic is a mix between astronomy and witch.

The only other thing is that I wear a heart-shaped ruby necklace around my neck which was a gift from my whole family. I never take it off.

Prompts: "I don't care if you are a (witch/hobbit), I love you." "I don't care if you won't let me marry her, I love her and you can't take her away from me ever." "I will always love you."

Thank you for requesting another commission ship! ❤ I hope you had a lovely holiday season as well!! ❤❤❤

-Commission Ships Info-

I ship you with Fili! (a close second was Legolas!)

Fili's feelings for you was a slow-burning evolution. He respected and admired you from the very start and you became friends quite quickly, but there were no romantic feelings at first. Slowly he began to notice his heart beating a bit faster every time he saw you. He slowly grew more protective of you, and even felt jealous when someone else showed an interest in you.

Your feelings for him were evolving at about the same rate (though maybe a bit faster). When he truly knew that he had developed these feelings, he waited until you had a private moment alone and told you, and when he learned you returned them, he was ecstatic.

He knew there would be discourse amongst other dwarves when they learned of his feelings as dwarves very rarely marry outside of their race. Some wouldn't care once they met you, but some held an unfortunate prejudice, especially since he was to be king one day.

BUT though Fili is proud of his heritage and family, he would never let them dictate his future or who he marries and loves. So even if he had to give up the throne, he would choose you.

Fili knew you would never want him to give that up, or cause a rift within his family. So you would pull away, even though it broke your heart. But Fili wouldn't except it, and would continue to court you no matter what, all the time convincing and battling for your love with those who wold oppose it.

(more under cut)

In my head you are a Hobbit with a knack for magic due to a past relationship between your Hobbit ancestor and an unknown person.

There are rumors that it was a powerful Wizard, and some think it was an Elf, but you don't know for certain as it's a big family secret.

But whoever they were, their magic lingered in your bloodline and strengthened with you, giving you magical abilities.

You are the first ever known Hobbit to have magic of a witch. (Even witches in themselves are extremely rare in this world)

When you met the dwarves (through your connection with Bilbo) they were in awe of your magic, and a little frightened, but mostly in awe.

Especially when they discovered just how caring, strong and kind you were.

They quickly learned you were an amazing ally and a great friend.

You especially got along well with Fili and Kili due to your closeness in age and similarities in personality.

They could tell you were sensitive to confrontation (yelling, and such), but the first time they saw you ready to battle for someone you cared for even using a sword, they were shocked in a best way.

This was one of the things that caused Fili to start seeing you a bit differently as well. His heart almost popped out of his chest when he saw the fire in your eyes.

Little Butterfly, Sunshine, and Little Rose are definitley pet-names Fili would cycle through. He would also call you 'amrâlimê' ('love of me'. aka 'My love')

Once Fili started courting you, he used mixtures of dwarven and hobbiton courting rituals.

So he of course gave you a bead from his beard and braided it into your hair.

And even if you are afraid of how other's would act due to your different races, Fili will still declare you are his intended and that he is courting you anytime the option arises, and especially if someone else so much as attempts to flirt with you.

((With this oneshot I changed the prompts a little so they would fit the situation))

Warnings: A bit angsty but with a happy ending

Note: I know nothing of Frerin, just that he is Thorins brother (Dis's older brother), so I made up his personality in this.

----

As you walked through the courtyard, you kept your eyes peeled for a familiar head of golden hair. You felt eyes on you every where you went but you had begun to grow used to it by now.

You had made plenty of friends an acquaintances that you won over with your genuine heart. But there were still plenty who looked at you with scornful eyes. And many who uttered their thoughts out loud at the sight of you.

"There she goes again. She sticks out like a sore thumb."

Your steps slowed for a moment at the words as you walked past the market stall. Taking a sharp breath you continued on, ignoring the muttering of those who didn't care to get to know you or open their minds to your skills.

As much as you tried to ignore their words your chest tightened as your steps slowed. No matter how hard you tried to push past it, it still weighed on you. All of their words, stares, thoughts and opinions slowly making it harder for you to keep pushing forward.

Maybe it truly was a bad idea for you to remain here. As much as you love Fili, which you did, with all your heart, you seemed to only bring trouble to him. It wasn't enough that Thorin and Kili had accepted you, or the rest of the company. Fili's own parents were still hesitant, and his Uncle Frerin the loudest of all.

Fili was next in line for the throne, it was not suitable for him to be with someone like you. You knew him well enough to know he would never tell you to leave, that he would never break his courtship with you.

You paused in your steps as you stared at the ground.

'Maybe it would be better for him if I left.'

The thought made your heart ache as your chest clenched painfully. You felt your eyes brimming with tears as they burned. You continued to walk, not paying much attention to where it was you were going.

Hearing a familiar voice, you paused in your steps as you looked around, quickly wiping your face.

It was Fili's voice you heard. Your breath caught as the other familiar voice rang out from around the corner.

"Do you truly think the people will accept your marriage to someone of not only commoner blood, but a non-dwarven commoner?"

Frerin's voice made your stomach twist. He had been so kind to you when you first met. But as soon as he learned of Fili's affection towards you, he changed. You knew he was only being protective of his family, but you truly wish he would see you for what you were and accept you, as his sister had slowly begun to do.

"Why do you insist on insulting her every time we speak? You liked her in the beginning why change now?"

Fili's thoughts were an echo of your own. You leaned against the wall as you listened.

Frerin sighed, "I had no qualms against her personally, but you must know it is a ridiculous idea to marry her. It is best that she leaves here and goes back to Hobbiton. I know you have heard the whispers about her. About her magic, something so unnatural in her race-"

"Uncle I beg you keep your tongue. You should pay her more respect. She helped us to win the lonely mountain back, she helped us defeat the dragon Smaug, she fought beside us more bravely than you could imagine. She is the only reason me and my brother are still alive. Yet you still insist on trying to chase her away. I will not have it, not anymore. I do not care if you do not want me to marry her, I love her and you can't take her away from me, no matter how you try."

"Fili-"

"No. That is enough, I will listen to you no more. Not until you learn to respect her as she deserves."

As you heard Fili's steps come closer, you wiped the tears that had escaped and walked swiftly away.

As Fili rounded the corner, he saw you fleeing. His heart jolted as he raced to catch up to you. As he grabbed your wrist you turned around to face him. His heart ached as he saw remnant tears on your face.

He stepped closer and gently cupped your face. "How much of that did you hear?"

You sniffled as you kept your eyes downcast. "Enough of it."

He stepped closer, and tilted your head to make you look into his eyes. "I'm sorry you heard his words, they were disgraceful."

You sniffled again as you shook your head with a smile before hugging him. He wrapped his arms around you and held you tight.

"I don't care what he thinks, not anymore. I only care what you think."

"You heard my words, yes? I am devoted to you, no matter what he or anyone else thinks."

Guilt rocked through you at his words.

"Are you certain is not better for me to leave? I seem to only cause you grief."

Fili pulled away as he looked into your eyes, his eyes filled with fear and desperation. "Don't you dare." Wiping a stray tear with his thumb he shook his head softly. "Do not let their words chase you away, do not let them win."

Leaning in, he pressed a slow soft kiss to your lips. When he pulled away his voice softened.

"I do not care that you are a Hobbit, or even a Witch, you could be an Elf for all I care. I love you, I will always love you."

You smiled at him through your teary eyes before pulling him into another hug. As he wrapped his arms around you, you resolved to stay. You couldn't leave him, not now, not ever.

It would take time for the Dwarves to see you as Fili wished. And it would be hard, but you would make it. The people would slowly grow to love you in all ways. They would trust your skills, your magic and your kind heart. In the end you would win, and your's and Fili's love was the prize.

xx

[draconic-ichor]

The Beginning

Part 2

Morgott/female tarnished oc

Warnings: strong language, cannon typical violence, blood, angst, mentions of trauma, fire

Summary: The Erdtree lies in flames, Morgott deals with the grief and the tarnished steels herself for the final battle.

Feedback appreciated, 18+. Before the GodLord was the GodLord

Time before the Mending

Ash rained down like snow, covering the capital. The melody from the envoys could not be heard, everything eerily quiet in their absence. Most of the knights fled, any other citizens soon to follow. Only the stone creatures remained, ever vigilant.

Morgott sat along the stone, tail unmoving behind him. The only movement was the wind ruffling his silvery curls and ragged robes. He gazed up into the burning boughs, the flames reflected in the gold of his eye. Despair filled the cavern in his ribs, choking hope into silence.

Through his entire life, through any hardship faced or pain endured, the glow of the Erdtree was a comfort. Even as a child he looked up through the sewer grates at its brilliance.

Its unwavering light was always a pillar of aspiration.

He knew not how much time passed, the fire sending even the nights into light. Only the gradually consumed capital was any measure of its passing, the ash turning from a dusting to swallowing a man to his hip. The lower sections of the capital became drowned.

He felt a shift, a cry of rejoice and a name he wished to never hear again. Lamentably, Morgott left the throne room, hiding away in the bedroom that once belonged to his mother.

As he gazed down at the bulky figure, a small shape came to stand beside him. The tarnished, the cause for so much destruction, sucked in a breath as she followed his gaze.

Godfrey, First Elden Lord, stood before the passage to the Erdtree; seemingly in wait.

“D-Do you wish to speak to him?” The tarnished asked, voice small, “Before…Before I…?”

Morgott smoldered a bit, tail flicking at the tip. “I've nothing to say to him.” He answered simply.

“But…” the tarnished tried to argue but was cut off.

“Do what thy will.” He turned away, unwilling to watch the battle.

~

By the time Morgott returned to the thrones, the area was void and silent. The loss was but another grain dropped into the despair he felt, becoming numb to it all. He sat once more, tiredly.

The tarnished stumbled up, dried blood staining her robes. She was weary, earning her victory over Godfrey. Her footsteps haunted just before Morgott, standing silently in wait. She looked expectant.

“I've no words for thee.” Morgott waved her away.

“I…I thought we should talk.” Her voice sounded divested, tinged with a shadow of desperation. Unknown to Morgott, the tarnished had also been stripped of everything and damn near everyone she held dear.

“Hasn’t thou taken enough from mineself?” He sighed, dismissively to her.

She gripped her robes, “I didn’t wish to hurt you…”

“Thou hast peculiar methods in enacting such wishes.”

“And what did you do?” She snapped.

“Protected thy Erdtree.” He gritted his teeth, eye flashing.

“As the world crumbled to ruin all around you!” The tarnished hollered, throwing up her arms. Before the other could argue she continued, desperation becoming more apparent in her voice, “You think I wanted this?”

“Thy Erdtree’s burning twas part of thine plan, was it not?” Morgott pointed out dryly.

If she had the power to smite with simply her mind, Morgott would undoubtedly have been rendered asunder from the gaze his comment elicited. She smoldered, “I've done what is needed…every sacrifice will be worth it.”

“The little tarnished surely hopes.” He regarded her with a level gaze. The tarnished chewed her inner cheek, red eyes returning it brashly.

Morgott broke first, turning away. His tail stilled, the look of gloom returning to his features. The tarnished deflated, moving to sit beside him. Embers fell around them, time stretching out before them.

The tarnished frowned, speaking genuinely, “I…I’m sorry…that it had to come to this.” For a moment, she worried he hadn’t heard her.

“Leave me be tarnished…” Morgott sighed, gaze never leaving the tree.

“…Blair.”

“Pardon?” His head finally tilted to the side a bit, golden eye flicking down towards her.

“My name,” the tarnished met his gaze steadily, voice monotone, “it’s Blair.”

Morgott’s face was unreadable, regarding her silently.

The tarnished sighed, pushing from the ground to stand. Even on her feet she still had to look up to speak to him. “I just wanted someone to know…” her voice petered off as she looked towards the opening on the great trunk. So much was silently spoken in that long look.

His tail flicked, a sound akin to a rumble from his throat as he turned away from her.

The tarnished gave a weak smile, turning to pad away to prepare herself.

~

“It’s time.” She informed, clutching the oversized trident.

Morgott didn’t move for a long moment, finally breaking out of his stupor to turn towards her. He looked her up and down; such a small creature, never dismayed from the hardships ahead.

“I have all the major pieces of the Elden Ring except…” her voice petered off, a hint of expectancy to her tone.

“Except mine.” He finished her thought. The king did not sound accommodating, however he was not one to openly show his thoughts often. He faced her fully, face ever unreadable. “Thou truly mean to restore order?”

Her red eyes were determined, a look he was growing familiar with. “You have my word.” She nodded, clutching the weapon tighter, “I’ll restore the Elden Ring, then heal the tree.”

“Then the entirety of the world…” he hummed, almost sounding humored. The tarnished caught the ever so slight shadow of a smile across his lips before it was gone again.

He reached towards his chest, pulling free a golden glow from his very flesh. His great rune fragment formed in his hand, giving off a light from within. It was a perfect circle, with a faint line slashed through its center.

Morgott looked down at the fragment, breath catching. Everything he fought for…everything he built for himself was coming either to an end or a beginning, all here before him.

Morgott offered out the rune with a steady hand, giving it willingly. The tarnished reached up, fingers brushing ever so slightly against his own.

The power flowed from Morgott into the tarnished, this great rune the anchor rune for the entire Elden Ring.

Emboldened, now with every piece needed, the tarnished smiled optimistically up to him.

He watched as she climbed the many steps, disappearing into the wall of light that separated the inner chamber from the world. He expected something, a great sound or shift…but everything fell into silence. As time passed, he sat near the thrones, and waited.

~

The site of grace flickered, trembling to life. Morgott gave a weary sigh, pushing himself to stand as the form of the tarnished materialized in the golden light.

“The ring is still yet broken.” He chided as the tarnished got her bearings, writhing a bit from the echoes of pain.

She gave him a venomous glare. “I didn’t best you my first time either!” She snapped, rummaging through her bag angrily.

His fingers thrummed rhythmically against the wood of his staff, almost annoyed, “Or the second or third.” He added dryly.

“I didn’t expect Radagon to be there!” She admitted, pulling out a pack of golden rowa berries before smashing them with some sunflowers.

Morgott padded slowly closer, curious.

The tarnished huffed out frustrated as she made a golden tinged goop.

“Thy little tarnished turns to cooking when suffering a defeat?” He asked almost sarcastically.

“I’m making Holyproof Dried Liver.” She explained, popping the lid on a jar. As soon as the seal was broken a horrid smell caught Morgott’s sensitive nose. She caught his sound, raising the jar a bit as she announced, “Pickled livers.”

“…aye.” Morgott swallowed, watching her for a while longer as she fished the meat from the jar to baste it in the goop. “Thou thinks this will help?” He asked.

“It can’t hurt.” She shrugged, “It sure felt like holy incantations. I’m not going to just run back in again….yet.”

“Brash creature.”

“It worked on you.” She snapped, earning a withering look. After coating all the livers and placing them to dry near the fire she sighed, “I’ll keep trying, as long as the grace allows…”

[astaldis]

Nauseous - Long, Long Way

@whumpers-monthly

Fandom: The Witcher

Wumpee: Cahir

Caretaker: Regis; Geralt; Milva

Published: 2022-10-14; Completed: 2022-10-30; Words: 16,617; Chapters: 7/7

Summary: On their way to Stygga Castle, Geralt's Hanza runs out of provisions and fodder for the horses. But is going to the farm to buy some really a good idea? Written for Whumptober 2022.

Rating: Mature; Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Category: Gen

Characters: Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach; Geralt of Rivia; Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy; Maria Barring | Milva; Angoulême; Dheran aep Ceallach

Additional Tags: nowhere to run; cornered; Confrontation; what could go wrong?; dislocation; No One's Coming; knees buckling; repeatedly passing out; Forced to Kneel; You Better Start Talking; No One Left Behind; rope burns; Anger born of worry; manhandled; Bedside Vigil; Waking up disoriented; tied to a table; Silence Is Golden; Enough Is Enough; Pushed to the limit; Stumbling; at the end of their rope; dead on your feet; no way out; say goodbye; It's been a long day; Comfort; Take me instead; you're safe now; Head trauma; what doesn't kill me; Hold Them Down; Hidden Injury; note to self: don't get kidnapped; a light at the end of the tunnel; The Hansa | Geralt's Company (The Witcher); Friendship

Excerpt from Chapter 5 - You can rest now

Cahir blinks his eye open once again, and looks up into the concerned faces of his three friends.

"You're here," he murmurs drowsily.

"Of course, we are, silly. You didn't think we would leave you behind with those fuckers, did you?" Cahir makes a sound that resembles more a no than a yes. "Good, for we wouldn't," Milva continues. "We are a Hanza and you are our brother, even though you are a bloody Nilfgaardian. No, sh, don't say it," she adds quickly. "We know, you are not a Nilfgaardian, I was only teasing. Because I'm glad we have you back. Although you look like shit."

"Better a brother who looks like shit than one who is a shitty brother," Angoulême declares wisely in between bites from a dried sausage she found among Milva's loot.

"My- My brother," Cahir says, suddenly agitated, trying to rise and look around but Geralt holds him firmly down.

"He's alive. And I'll see to that he stays alive," Geralt promises. "Although your brother definitely doesn't deserve it."

"It's not his fault. I- I'm the traitor."

"What? It's not his fault? You have hit your head pretty hard, haven't you? That is utter bullshit, Cahir!" Milva has to make a real effort not to shout at her sick comrade or grab him by the shoulders to shake some sense into him. He cannot actually believe that it is his own fault his brother mistreated him?

"I do agree with you, dear Milva, from the bottom of my almost five-hundred-year-old heart," Regis, who has suddenly appeared next to the archer like out of thin air, interrupts, "however, I am sorry to say that this is not the time to discuss these matters. Cahir needs to rest. Any form of excitement has to be avoided at all cost." He turns from Milva to the patient. "How do you feel, my dear boy? Can you see me clearly?" Cahir tries to focus, but it does not work. The faces of his companions are hardly more than a blur of hazy colours and vague shapes in the orange light of the fire. Their voices are also slightly distorted and there is a constant, underlying ringing in his ears that makes it even harder to understand what they are saying. He shakes his head. And immediately regrets it as a wave of dizziness floods his aching skull and he suddenly feels sick to his stomach.

"N-Need to-" That is all he manages before his stomach lurches and he starts to retch. Regis's speed of reaction is remarkable. In the blink of an eye he is kneeling beside his sick friend grabbing him by the shoulder and turning him onto his side so he would not inhale any pieces of vomit and asphyxiate. Unfortunately, the movement causes Cahir's shoulder to explode with agony and he cries out in pain. He goes even paler than he was before and starts to shake all over.

"Fuck! I'm going to kill that bastard brother after all!" Geralt shouts. Luckily, Cahir does not hear him as he has fainted again.

Read the complete story on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42385659

[cyberpunk-spectre]

Untitled - Elliot Alderson × GN! Reader

Angst, mentions of trauma and abuse.

──────────

“Do you think they’re mad at me?”

Mr. Robot paused, turning to meet Elliot’s figure. The young man in question was sitting upright on his mattress, keeping as still as possible as to not disturb the sleeping figure next to him.

“What…?” Mr. Robot voiced, confused. He and Elliot had been talking about their plan to take down the Deus Group when Elliot suddenly brought up such a weird question.

“[Y/N],” Elliot said softer, “do you think [Y/N]’s mad at me?”

Mr. Robot glanced over at the sleeping figure. [Y/N] [L/N]—a unique individual, a lot like Elliot in some ways, and yet completely different in others. The two fit together like USB and port. No wonder they had such a steady relationship despite, well, everything.

You stirred lightly, your brows scrunching up. You were having some sort of nightmare, although Mr. Robot couldn’t say what it was about.

The being that was Mr. Robot turned back to Elliot, who had also been glancing at your sleeping form. “Why would you think that?”

“Because I’ve been ignoring them. Hiding away while you take control…” his voice slowly turned shaky as the horroundus memories that Vera forced Elliot to dig up with his therapist began invading his mind.

“Kid,” Mr. Robot sighed out, not entirely sure how to phrase what he wanted to say. “No. No, they aren’t mad. They wouldn’t be, not after everything you’ve been through.”

Elliot glanced up to meet Mr. Robot’s gaze. Mr. Robot could see the pain in his eyes, wishing he could just take it all away, making things go back to how they were when Elliot didn’t know the truth.

“I don’t like hiding away like this. Not from them.” Elliot’s voice was quiet, his grey eyes looking down. He was shaking, although he seemed to be trying to fight it off.

“Elliot, you can’t beat yourself about this—this was something you were never supposed to know. It was my job to keep it from you, and I failed.” Mr. Robot protested, hating the fact that Elliot was hurting so bad.

Elliot sniffled, a silent sign that he had been crying. “I know, it’s why I created you. But I hate not being able to look into his eyes. It hurts, because I… because I…” he stopped himself.

Mr. Robot had the ghost of a smile on his lips. “It’s because you love them, I know.”

Elliot just nodded.

Mr. Robot sighed again, contemplating on whether or not he should tell Elliot. He had every right to know, no matter what you thought.

The man grumbled to himself, deciding to say ‘fuck it’ to whatever you would say to him later. He walked over to Elliot, kneeling down to meet his eyes.

“I have something to tell you, Kiddo. Even though [Y/N] told me not to tell you.” Mr. Robot began. His words caused Elliot to perk right up, unintentionally showing his puffy red eyes to his protector.

Mr. Robot didn’t say anything about them as he continued. “It was a few days after we met. Well, after they met me. I won’t ever forget what they told me that day.”

Elliot tilted his head, wiping his eye with the sleeve of his trusted hoodie. “What… did they say?”

Mr. Robot glanced at you again. You had kicked the comforter off, being too hot beneath it. Your torso was exposed to the world, showing off your well-shaped, yet battered body.

There were scars everywhere, vastly ranging in sizes. There were a few tattoos here and there—nothing too frivolous. Mostly used to cover up the biggest and nastiest scars of your collection.

“They said they knew why I existed. Told me they knew why you created me. Of course, they didn’t know the exact reasoning behind it, but they said that they had dealt with severe trauma cases before in others. Although, we were unique, they said that we were special.” Mr. Robot explained.

Now it was Elliot’s turn to look back at you, not really understanding.

“Special?”

Mr. Robot shrugged. “Hey, your guess is as good as mine. But that’s not why I’m telling you this. I’m telling you because they understand why you haven’t been the one driving. They understand why you need to just hide away. They aren’t mad at you, Kid. They would never be mad at you. They love you too much.”

Mr. Robot’s words made Elliot’s heart skip a beat. He was still so new to this whole dating game, but he couldn’t deny the connection you shared.

Elliot was still having a hard time getting used to the idea that there was someone out there who was there for him. Who cared for him. Who loved him.

He was so thankful that you stayed by his side, even after everything you had been through since you first met.

Elliot turned to look back at Mr. Robot, however the man was nowhere to be seen. Elliot was about to jump to his feet and call out to him when he felt the mattress beneath him move.

“Elliot…?” The half-asleep voice of [Y/N] [L/N] spoke up, catching Elliot’s attention. Elliot looked over, seeing you sit up, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

Once your eyes adjusted to the darkness of Elliot’s apartment, you slumped into a more comfortable position, staring at Elliot’s figure.

“Or…” you began softly, your voice sending shivers down Elliot’s spine. “Is it you?”

“It’s me.” Elliot replied, almost inaudibly. You perked right up at that.

“Really?”

Elliot nodded.

You smiled warmly. “Did you sleep at all, Babe?”

Elliot didn’t say anything, simply shaking his head. He could feel his heart running a marathon in his chest as he was starting to break down. He didn’t mean to, but he was still just so overwhelmed, and the sudden disappearance of Mr. Robot didn’t help at all.

“Babe? Is everything okay? Elliot…?” Your voice was full of concern. You moved across the mattress, scooting closer to Elliot.

You then reached out, placing your hand on Elliot’s shoulder.

That’s what set him off.

He knew you would never hurt him, but he was in such a fragile state that he had no control over the fear that took over every fibre of his being.

Elliot jumped back, reacting on pure instinct. “DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!!”

You immediately pulled back, startled by Elliot’s outburst. You instantly realised what caused the reaction, mentally kicking yourself.

“Fuck, Babe, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean too…” you trailed off once you heard Elliot whimpering.

“I’m sorry,” Elliot whimpered, his body curling into a ball, trembling. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m fucking sorry…!”

He continued to repeat that phrase over and over, rocking back and forth. He was having a full on breakdown, which broke your heart, as you knew exactly how that sort of panic felt.

You scooted even closer to Elliot, attempting to reach out again to comfort your boyfriend out of reflex. You then stopped yourself, remembering what triggered the panic attack in the first place.

However, before you fully pulled away, Elliot’s body moved entirely on its own, falling into your arms as Elliot cried into their chest. You went still, taking a second to process what was happening. Then, Elliot felt you embrace him, holding him close.

“Elliot,” you began softly, resting your chin on the top of Elliot’s head as he let Elliot cry it all out. “You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about.”

“But I’ve been ignoring you—pushing you away when all you’ve ever done was try to help me.” Elliot sniffled.

Elliot felt your grip tighten. “What you’re going through, Elliot… fuck, man. Nobody should ever have to go through that shit. It’s why Mr. Robot exists in the first place, to keep you safe from things you were never meant to know. What Vera did—well, I’m fucking glad he’s dead and I’ll leave it at that.”

Elliot chuckled at the tone of your words. He then sniffled, resting his head on your chest, your embrace making Elliot feel safe, protected.

“So… you’re not mad at me?”

Elliot felt you go still, completely shocked. “Mad? Babe, how could I possibly be mad at you?”

“I’ve been ignoring you,” Elliot repeated, “hiding away, leaving Mr. Robot in control, it isn’t fair to you and I’m—”

You cut Elliot off before he fell into another rant. “Elliot, I don’t blame you for anything. You need time to cope with this, to find out some way to keep going. And if letting Mr. Robot do everything helps you with that, then I’ll put up with his bitching for as long as I need to.”

“Hey!” A familiar voice piped up. Elliot perked up at the sound, peeling away from your chest. He looked over your shoulder to where Mr. Robot himself stood—in the corner of Elliot’s apartment, right by his computer.

There was a fond smile on his face. He meant what he said as a joke. He wasn’t pissed off by your comment at all.

Realising what Elliot was looking at, you followed his gaze in the general direction of where you believed Mr. Robot was standing. You had to make a guess due to the fact you couldn’t exactly see Mr. Robot. Only Elliot could.

“I fucking mean it too, man.” You said.

Mr. Robot looked at you, chuckling. He then looked back at Elliot with that same smile, however it felt more genuine that time.

Oh… Elliot now figured out why Mr. Robot had disappeared.

That was… quite nice of him, actually.

“He’s smiling…” Elliot said softly, wanting you to know that Mr. Robot understood the joke you made.

You turned back to Elliot with a smile of your own. “Good.”

You then cupped Elliot’s face in your hands, the two of you locking eyes. “You’re going through a lot, but I want you to know that I will always be here for you, Elliot. Always.”

Elliot’s lips curled into a small, yet entirely genuine, smile. He grabbed your wrists, keeping your eyes locked. “Okay.” Was all he said.

You smiled as you kissed Elliot’s lips. Elliot didn’t flinch, or pull back—instead he kissed back. Quite unusual for him, but he was learning. Patience truly was the price of your relationship.

So it was a damn good thing that you were also one very patient individual when you wanted to be.

[popitdontdropitwrites]

"New Invention" Engineer/Medic - Chapter 11

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10,

❗ This is a sequel to Mx. Sinister. Events may not make sense if you have not read that fic.

CW: This one is a dark one. It touches upon potentially triggering and upsetting topics. (Gaslighting, past medical trauma, manipulation, emotional pain so on so forth.) Tread carefully, or avoid reading if you have to.

“Sit down, Joseph.” Dell said, his fingers impatiently tapping against the table, betraying the patient, worried expression on his face. “There’s a little somethin’ we’ve got to talk about.” He let out a long, tired sigh. “…I think you know what it is.”

“I have a feeling, yes.”

Joseph, by all accounts, had slept wonderfully, but now that he was awake, he longed to fall into the world of dreams, where nothing could harm him, not even this. His legs resisted every step, demanding that he stop and turn around before it was too late, but despite it all, he made it to the table. He stood uncomfortably behind his seat with his hands resting on the backrest, looking towards his partner, begging for an end to this oppressive, dreadful quiet between them. Silver eyes, once dull with endless kindness, had been set alight with a dangerous, volatile gleam, further stressed by the heavy bags under his eyes, as if he had not slept at all.

It had been made more than clear; Joseph would be the one doing the talking, the justifying, the repenting. “This is about Misha, isn’t it?” How long had he spent with that name on the very tip of his tongue, on the very precipice of being spoken? It flowed out oh so naturally now, as if he had uttered it hundreds of times before and would soon be spoken thousands more.

Dell continued to stare, the shapes and colours of his pupils becoming too much to bear, as if they were closing in on him, entrapping him in chains. “This is all about him.”

“I thought you would have been happy for me. You must have known that my memory was – and still is – affected… does it really bring you no joy to see me coming back to my former self?”

“Not when you’re thinkin’ about another man.” The tapping stopped, and its absence was almost as hurtful as the Texan’s growl. “You’ve been drawin’ him all night and day, fawnin’ over him like you’re sweet on him… and you say you don’t understand why I’m losin’ my temper?”

“He’s merely my friend! I am allowed to have that, aren’t I?” He snapped back. “But then again, I suppose not, seeing as you didn’t even think to remind me that Misha existed.”

“It was better that way ‘cause I didn’t have to stay awake at night worryin’ that he’d take you from me.”

“Dell, please, it’s not like that and you know it.”

“You think I’m crazy, do ya?” The Engineer’s grip on the table tightened, drawing a pained groan from the wood. “You’d run off with him in a heartbeat, I can see it in your eyes.”

“I love you too much to throw it all away with someone else!” He pleaded, the accusation hitting him under the skin, deep into a nerve like the head of a well-aimed arrow.

“Then just forget about him. He doesn’t deserve you.” Dell stood up tall, meeting his level, his posture tense with almost animalistic rage, as if he could lunge at any moment.

Joseph doubled down, despite his every instinct begging him to simply submit. “I… I haven’t seen him in months, Dell. I can’t hurt him like that any longer.”

“Oh, ain’t that cute, you don’t wanna hurt him. Let me tell you a secret, darlin’, he hurt you.”

His heart fell into his guts, kicking and screaming on the way down. “I know him. He could never do so much as lay a finger on me. You can’t say the same.”

“You don’t wanna go there, boy. Don’t you dare make this about me.” He warned him through both gravelly tone and austere expression that such a terrible assault would not go unreciprocated.

“Or what, Dell, you’ll pump me so full of drugs that I can’t sleep? Or maybe you’ll rip both of my arms off this time?”

A crackling, crunching sound erupted from the gunslinger as it crushed the corner of the table, the shards passing through its robotic fingers like dust. Dell did not seem to notice, not even when a flighty gasp escaped Joseph’s lips. “Everythin’ I’ve done was for your own good!”

“Tell me how the totally unethical and lest I forget, completely unmedicated amputation was for my own benefit? There were so many risks and potential complications, but you did it anyway, without training, without anything at all but your own ego to guide you.”

“I was fixin’ you!”

“I am not one of your fucking machines! I am a human being; I don’t need to be fixed.”

“Joseph, you’re not hearin’ me. He was the one to break ya in the first place.”

“I’m not going to allow you to fill my head with lies again. I—I am not turning against the man who has done nothing but help me!”

“I don’t care what you think you remember, but let me tell ya, you’re wrong about him.”

He swallowed thickly, his throat closing up. “There is a lot still missing, but I remember Misha completely – his laughter, his smile, his voice, it’s all there. Not once did he harm me in all of our years together.”

“Darlin’, it’s not me who’s lyin’, it’s that pretty little head of yours.” He said. “You don’t remember, do ya?”

“Remember what, exactly?”

His gaze lost its firmness in favour of an inexplicable sentimentality, but the latter was far more frightening due to the pity hidden in his glistening sclera. “That damned hospital.”

He blinked, once, twice, static undulating behind his eyes, cold, dry, and hypnotically dull like the depths of space. Faintly, from a distant star, he recalled the pricks of needles, the fizz of dissolving, bubbling powder on his tongue, the metallic taste of tools, all of which promised an end to his pain.

“You kicked, screamed and begged, but it didn’t matter. Misha dragged you right to ‘em, right where he wanted you; in a cage, like some kind of fuckin’ animal.”

Joseph weakly stumbled back, his body colliding with the wall, slowly shrinking towards the ground, unable to fight back against remembrance’s onslaught of voices, yellowed and faded with age, bouncing between his ears, distorted, and muffled, as if he were drowning. Faceless men asked him the same old questions, designed to probe, and poke at his fracturing, splitting mind, to name the monster running rampant in his head in hopes of someday leashing it, or perhaps, killing it altogether.

“He told ya that you were sick in the head. He couldn’t see that you’re different, just… curious.”

Tears welled in his eyes, threatening to spill as a beautiful, vivid sound pierced the low rumble of men, the hum of machines and the wails of patients through the mazelike, spiralling halls. Drip, drip, drip – seductively thick, ruby droplets, the very essence of life carved from the flesh, the only beauty in that hell of soothing greens. And oh, the feeling of them falling against his tongue, so delicious and so flavourful compared to the gruel they served him. 

“He tried to kill ya then, usin’ the hands of doctors and nurses to shove drugs down your throat until you lost everythin’ that made you brilliant.” 

It all came back to him in blinding, brilliant colours, as if the sun were exploding before his eyes, causing the first of many tears to fall on his lip. The taste was tangy like that of the gloved digits pressed against the sensitive tissue of his throat, forcing his burning muscles to swallow down his new pernicious regimen of medicine, hoping to remedy the previous’ meagre results.

“And the worst part? He never visited. You’d cry for him every damned night, thinkin’ your tears could bring him back, but he was always too afraid of what he’d see.”

He sobbed loudly and uglily, with only the coarse kiss of fabric to stifle his screams and hungrily drink his tears; an inadequate substitute for the comfort of another’s shoulder, but the only option in that cold, lonely eternity. The sound and sensation of breath passed through him, rattling and stuttering, as if he were dying, but the sun rose as it always did, beaming from behind the curtains, mocking him from afar, for it had the moon to keep it company.

“They kept you there for years, toiling away in one of their partner’s factories as cheap, disposable labour under the pretence of rehabilitation. The money was just a number, slowly risin’ by the hour. You were just interested in passin’ the time like everybody else.”

Eyes, grey and unrelenting like the metal components he assembled into meaningless shapes bore down upon him, judging his pitiful, grief-stricken form. Joseph worked without complaint, his hands blistered, reddened and clammy from the suffocating skin of his gloves, passing finished parts along to the next man in line. The occasional defective component arose from the man before, who was perhaps too tired, or too delusional to recognise his mistake and though most discarded them, Joseph instead filled his pockets with them – New toys, made of jagged edges and sharp malformations, engraved with stimulatingly rough lettering: Conagher Robotics.

“Somehow, after who knows how darn long, you passed their assessments and met their criteria, all of which had seemed impossible once. They deemed you of sound mind – whatever that meant and sent you on your way.”

He collapsed entirely, just as he had done at Misha’s feet on that day, wailing and fighting to breathe through the bittersweet agony. He was lifted into the car and delivered into a carriage of novel sounds – the crunch of gravel under wheels, the distorted songs of the radio, the purr of an engine and the long-forgotten voice of his best friend. The fantastical colours of the world that had gone on without him failed to seem real in that moment, as if it had all been a dream and he would soon wake up in his cot in a pool of his own tears.

“Misha took ya home, looked after you even, and made sure you weren’t gonna start hurtin’ nobody. And then… you slowly picked yourself back up. You found yourself a job, a proper place to live, and ways around that mind of yours, all the while forgettin’ who had sent you to hell in the first place.”

Dell’s hand wiped his tears, a cruel mockery of the happiness he had shed when he was given the power to forge a pleasant, reinvigorating routine with his own two hands. He worked as a nurse – something he did with a smile – occasionally visited his doctor for a progress report, saw Misha each and every week – the highlight of it all – and slept soundlessly, with dreams of love fluttering about his exhausted mind. But there was something… someone more, cut out of the picture, unable to fit.

“It didn’t last, ‘cause nothin’ ever goes right for you, does it?”

His breath hitched, stifling a scream, the same scream that had been bubbling in his throat when shadows scuttled in the dark of his apartment, breathing down his neck with his belongings in their claws. With them, came the stifling presence of malaise in the place he called home, like a poison leaking from the mind, birthing paranoia, and delusion – madness itself.

“You got sick,” He spat the word out, repulsed by it. “And you tried desperately to hide it, knowin’ it’d only cause you trouble. But Misha found out and it was different this time around. He was angry, angrier than you’ve ever seen him.”

“Stop it, please, Dell, stop. I can’t—”

“—One day, you both drove right past the hospital. He didn’t think to tell you why.” His pleas fell on deaf ears, becoming nothing but noise to be talked over. “He stopped the car and told ya to get out. You walked for a little while, into the fields and it got real quiet all of a sudden. There was somethin’ about his eyes, that just screamed at you to run… but you weren’t fast enough.”

Images, broken, muddled, blurred, and bloodied crossed his mind far too quickly to be caught, like fireflies in a storm. Screams, dissected and rearranged, split across his temples, in tones shrill enough to be his own. The taste of copper melded with that of the dirt, and of primal, unimaginable fear – the fear of death. The moon hung above him, its face twisted and bloated into a smile in his withering, shrivelling memory, reflected in the eyes of the man pursuing him.

“And then, he ripped you apart, like a broken toy.”

His heart wailed in his chest, the metal remembering the violent, lamentable end of its predecessor as it too, was torn apart, this time by betrayal’s powerful, merciless hands. He had been a glorious fountain of life, gushing blood and living tissue until he had nothing more to give, but in this moment, he transformed into a hideous outpour of death, wailing, screaming, gasping to breathe. The pain, too unfathomably tremendous to comprehend then, was somehow equally as devastating now. He begged to be returned to the world below, his fists pounding against the tiles again and again until warm, reassuring blood ran over his skin.

“Why—” He rasped, shaking hands clawing at the ground to find purchase. “Why did you bring me back?” He choked, a fresh flood of tears spilling from him, like gushes of blood from an open wound.

“Because you deserve to be here, safe from him.” Dell crouched down to him, holding both of his hands, his warmth as oppressive as it was comforting.

“I… I don’t want to live without him.” Somehow, through the hiccupping, choking, and gasping, the words made it, scarred, and dismembered, but still comprehendible. “What r-reason do I have if he wants me dead?”

He was held tighter and Dell’s tone, once rough and cold, melted into total and utter love, like the stinging, yet kind touch of healing. “You have me, Joseph. I love you, and I always will.”

That phrase, rich with meaning, turned to dust upon leaving the Texan’s lips. “I-I just want him, even—” He bared his teeth, tasting salt on his tongue. “Even after everything he has done. I… I must truly be mad.” He laughed pathetically, the sound a wet, bubbling gurgle. “But I can’t have him, can I? I may as well just ask for death!” He cackled, emptying his lungs until he heaved. “Would you be so kind?”

The Engineer stopped in place, the loving strokes of his fingers ceasing as he processed that enormous, unthinkable request. His lashes fluttered, the paleness of horror spreading across his face, like a curtain of clouds parting to reveal the alabaster surface of the moon, only its smile had long since died. “Oh, darlin’…” He breathed, pulling him in for a hug, granting him the shoulder he had been so desperate for. “I don’t want you to suffer anymore, but that… that ain’t the way to do it.” His voice cracked, as if he too, had begun to weep. “I can take the pain away, all I need is for you to ask.”

“Help me, Dell. Please…”

A hiss sounded from the cables in his neck, and slowing, slowing, like wax cooling as it ran down the side of a candle, his consciousness faded, a mere whisper in the wind to be carried away. Dell lifted him into his arms, planting a shaky kiss on his forehead, promising him an end to his pain at last; one final procedure.