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lieslab · 3 months

Text

Gone away

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Han Jisung X gn reader

Summary: After a rough battle with cancer, you're finally at the end of the fight.

Genre: Angst with no happy ending

Word Count: 3.2K

_ _ _

No amount of ‘I’m sorry’s’ can take away the pain. When the radiation stops working, when the cancer keeps growing, when the harrowing realization that you will not recover settles in. Facing death head on is one thing, but laying around and waiting for it is another.

Cancer is a fickle thing. It can infect an organ or it can choose to home itself in your bones. It doesn’t care if you’re only a few months old and new to the world. It doesn’t care if you’re elderly and trying to make it to a hundred to impress your children and grandchildren.

It doesn’t care if you’re healthy either. You can live the healthiest life possible, but due to one reason or another, it might catch you anyway. Grasping your organs, burrowing in your bones, sucking the soul out of you without a care in the world.

You knew you were dying and so did Han. It started with random pains and low energy. After testing and a tumor being found, doctors assumed chemo would help weaken it. It did, at first, but then it started to fight back.

You loved your doctor and they were determined to get you to remission. You had high hopes after it was fought off. You assumed that’d be the end of it and then it came back. Higher doses of radiation, the repulsive smell of hospital antiseptic, the taste of stomach acid from throwing up, and white walls.

You bawled like a baby when a clump of your hair fell out in the shower. All you could remember was Han finding you and wrapping you in a towel. Promising, insisting, and swearing it would grow back. You found comfort in his words. You knew, you believed, and you loved him.

Han could do so much, but Han was not a god. With every strand of fallen hair, every vomiting session, every time it felt like the world was caving in, he was there. He was there for every paper cut and every broken bone. That’s what love was for at the end of the day; to mend you and make you whole again.

You loved, you lived, and you had hope. Hope is the one thing humans are good at. They cling to it, they grip onto it, they grasp with the slivers of strength they have left. Hoping, praying, believing, and having faith you’d get better because in the stories, that’s how it should go.

A fairytale love like this was not meant to have a depressing ending. It was not supposed to end with sharp cheekbones and sunken in dead eyes. It was not supposed to end with you kissing your lover good-bye. It was not supposed to end with you barely mustering up the strength to hold your boyfriend’s hand.

The single movement felt like the equivalent to climbing Mount Everest. You couldn’t remember the last time you had food. You were on high doses of morphine waiting for the end. Your oxygen had slowly started to dwindle a few hours ago.

Drowsy from the morphine, all you could focus on was the warmth of Han’s hand in yours. You always knew deep down this could be a possibility. It was something you shoved to the farthest and darkest corner of your mind. As the days went on, weeks drifted by and morphed into months.

His thumb rubbed along the side of yours. A person could only do so much to prepare themselves for the death of their lover. An unspoken silence sat between the two of you. Comfortable and mellow. You had been prepared for this for a while now.

On the other hand, a lump sat in Han’s throat. He kept staring at you trying to remember everything about you. The slope of your nose, the draw of your chin, the way your mouth tugged into a smile.

Over the past few months, there were countless photos and videos taken. Photos of the two of you together. Photos of you sleeping in the bed by yourself. Videos of you unwrapping the little gifts Han got you. Pictures and photos from when you looked healthier.

Back when your skin wasn’t so taught over your body. When you were full of color instead of a sick gray. When your smiles met your eyes and they twinkled with delight. Back before cancer sucked the life out of you. Before when you were able to move without collapsing from weak legs.

That word and that disease had destroyed both your lives. Led you both to depression and sleepless nights. Endless conversations with doctors and appointments. Tough talks with friends and creating a will. Planning for the inevitable as time crept along.

It was something that was always on your mind. How many more sleepy kisses would you be able to steal? How many more times would you be alive to watch the sun wake up and drift away in the evening? How much longer would the moon keep you company? Would you even be able to make it to the next full moon?

No matter who you prayed to, no matter how many stars you wished upon, nothing worked. Your fate was already written for you and there was nothing you could do to get out of it. Even when you reached another birthday and blew out your candles, it didn’t work.

Your one and only wish was to be healthy and yet here you were, two months later, with a death rattle. Your lungs rose and fell at a much slower pace than normal. You probably only had a day left, if that. The end was near and you were exhausted.

You were left weakened from the chemo. Even getting up and going to the bathroom became too hard. In your final stages, you were hooked up to a catheter. Not like you could pass much urine anyway. You were too dehydrated and too weak to do anything, but lie there awaiting death.

Han tried his damn best to make it as comfortable as possible. He told stories that you had forgotten about. He cracked jokes despite how much it pained him. He forced himself to keep his tears at bay for your sake. He could deal with his grief later.

This time, it’d be without you. You wouldn’t be there to wipe his tears. You wouldn’t be there to wrap your arms around his body. He wouldn’t be able to grip you tightly and listen to the familiar lull of your heartbeat. He’d be left here and who knew where you’d end up on the other side.

Every time he let his mind wander that direction, his bottom lip trembled. He rapidly blinked trying to keep the tears from his eyes. He sniffled and kept holding your hand. Over the span of the past hour, you had gone quiet.

All that was left was your rugged and rattled breathing. The cancer had staked its claim once and for all. Finally, after months of fighting, it had won. You were too weak to do anything besides lay in the uncomfortable hospital bed and wait.

You would have rather been at home, but the doctor insisted you’d be more comfortable here. Hooked up to morphine, you were somewhere between this world and the next. Somewhat dazed and confused, you floated between realms.

What you really wanted was the warmth of your bed. Han’s body wrapped tightly around you. You wanted his head against your heart. You wanted to provide the last bit of comfort that you could before it stopped. You wanted to hold him one last time.

You had put him through so much already. You were going to take your guilt to the other side. You tried to push him away. You tried to be mean and distance yourself. You tried to be cold, but he kept clinging onto you. He refused to let you fight this battle by yourself.

You were still breathing, but it was starting to get harderer now. Even hooked up to the morphine, you could feel your lungs slowly giving out. Every time you took a breath in, you weren’t sure you’d be able to push it out and make it to the next.

“Han?” You finally got out.

Han sniffled and sat up at the sound of your voice. He shifted in his chair and stared down at you. “Yes, honey?”

“I want you in my bed.”

“I don’t think the nurses wa-”

“I don’t care, I’m literally dying.”

It was a low blow, but you knew it’d work. Han chuckled and stood from his chair. He slipped down beside you and tugged you closer. You struggled to get your arms around him and pull him towards you. Understanding what you wanted, he shifted closer to your body.

You placed a shaky hand on the top of his head. You shifted your fingers slightly to play with his hair. He relaxed while curled up to you and closed his eyes. You bent down and placed a weak kiss on the top of his head with your chapped lips.

No amount of chapstick could keep them hydrated. You were too dehydrated and worn out. Even the strong medicinal stuff had stopped working. You let yourself relax at the familiar weight of his head on your chest.

“I’m going to miss you,” you finally got out through a rattle.

Despite the rattling in your upper body, Han could hear your heart clearly. He wanted to lock the rhythm away and keep your heart pumping forever. However, he knew what you had been through. He understood that he couldn’t keep you caged in this weakened state.

“Are you scared?” He asked.

“I’m more afraid for you. I’m a big believer that I’ll be at peace, but what about you? I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I won’t be entirely alone. I’ll have the guys and I’ll be around the people I love. I’ll still have my family and all the fans. Please don’t think for a second that they won’t miss you too.”

“Some of them will think they have a shot with you now.” You let out a hollowed laugh. Your lungs forced out air before falling into a coughing fit. Han instantly jerked away from you and helped you sit up to get air into your lungs.

“Are you alright?” His eyes filled with concern and his lips pressed into a thin line. He reached forward and brushed a piece of hair from your eyes as you nodded.

“Thank you.”

“It’s not a problem.”

“I mean for everything. For the late night conversations, for the motivational speeches, for sticking beside me when I tried to get you to leave. Thank you for making life worth living.”

Tears welled up in Han’s eyes. He pressed his ear back against your chest to hear that familiar thump. “You know I don't do too well with emotional conversations. I’m trying so hard not to sob in your arms.”

“You’re allowed to be scared too.”

“I don’t want to be scared,” he objected. “I want to be strong for you. I don’t want you to see me crumble apart. I’m supposed to be the one comforting you and I-”

“My sweet boy, I’ve already accepted it. I accepted this fate quite a while ago.” Your fingers brushed across the swell of his cheeks. Unlike your concave cheeks, Han’s were round and full just as you liked them to be. “The only one who hasn’t accepted it is you.”

“I don’t want to let go. I don’t know how to let go. Please,” his voice broke, “don’t make me let go.”

“But you have to,” you whispered.

“I know it’s selfish, but please. I can’t do this by myself. I don’t want to live this life without you. I can’t do it,” tears welled in his eyes, “I-I can’t. You’re asking me to do the impossible.”

Your fingers slipped down and landed along the front of his chest. “I’ll always be right here.” You lightly tapped against his heart. Beneath your finger, his heart pulsed. The strong rhythmic beats were far superior to your weakened ones.

“Please…” He sucked in a breath and clamped his teeth down on his bottom lip. The stinging sensation overpowered his tears for a few seconds. He didn’t want to break apart in front of you.

“Han?”

“W-What?”

“Please allow me the chance to comfort you one last time. I’m still here for now. I know I don’t have much time left. Don’t shut me out while I’m still right here.”

That was all it took for him to fall apart. Openly weeping in your arms and burying his face into your chest. Warm salted tears painted your chest and soaked your hospital gown. In the smallest size, it was still big on you.

You had sunken into nothing, but skin and bones. The cancer stole every bit of body fat to help fuel it. It took away your cravings and numbed your hunger cues. After a while of not eating, the stomach aches and pains went away.

Laying on your chest, he could hear the struggle of your heart. Your energy was dwindling further and further and soon there’d be nothing left. Was it hours, minutes, or seconds left? Every breath, all you could do was pray that there’d be another.

Cancer was a nasty and awful thing. It took your strength, it took your hobbies, it took your personality, but it could not take your love. You would not let it rip away your love. It could feast on your fat, it could slurp your marrow, and it could devour your organs. Your body was a glutton haven for cancer, but it could not have your love.

When you were too weak to get up, when you could no longer use the bathroom, when you couldn’t eat, you still had your heart. With no fight left to do your hobbies, you still had your voice. It was weak and it was soft, but it was still here. You were determined to keep that with you until you died.

An angry and colossal disease that left nothing behind besides pain and despair. It tore families apart and left lovers lonely. One minute you’re on top of the world and the next, you’re getting a phone call announcing that you need to come back to the doctor’s office to have a serious conversation with your doctor to discuss the next steps.

When it comes to cancer, there are no winners, even in remission, through surgery and through chemotherapy. To those who decide to say no to treatment and spend the rest of their days facing whatever might come next. It kills, it destroys, and it haunts; leaving nothing behind, but anxiety.

What if? What if? What if? What if it comes back? What if the tumor gets larger? What if it spreads? What if I lose the people I love? What if I can’t afford treatment? What if I never recover? What if it kills me? What if? What if? What if?

Haunting your family and friends. Haunting the doctors and nurses treating you. Haunting the young children in public because treatment took so much away from you; your hair, your eyebrows, your eyelashes. You were left pale and sickly looking like a real life walking skeleton.

Han’s fingers curled into your hospital gown. He cried and cried and cried until there was nothing left, but uneven breathing and hiccups. You softly cooed and continued playing with his hair. He squeezed his eyes shut and reopened them hoping this was an awful nightmare, but nothing changed.

Exhaustion rolled through you once again. You knew you didn’t have much longer. It was getting harder to breathe and your heart rate monitor was slowing once again. The quick beats had turned into occasional pulses. Soon it wouldn’t be able to support your soul.

“Han?” You whispered.

His voice came out hoarse, “yeah?”

“I’m so tired.”

He sucked in a sharp breath. He knew, you knew, you both knew what this meant. There was almost a hundred percent chance you’d go to sleep and never wake back up. This was the last time he’d get to see your eyes. The last time he’d hear the pitter-patter of your heart. This was the end of everything.

He glanced up from your chest. Your eyes met and he reached up to your face. He pressed his hand against your cheek and you let your eyes fall shut. “Just go to sleep,” he whispered, finally accepting it. “It’ll be better when you wake up.”

“But you won’t be there.”

“Oh, but I will.” He forced himself to smile. “I’ll be right here.” He pressed his other hand against your chest and gently tapped your heart. “I’ll always be with you and you can’t get rid of me.”

“I love you.” You gathered the strength to reopen your eyes one last time. The two of you made eye contact once more. A silent tear slipped down Han’s cheek. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours.

How cruel and tragic it was. Smooth lips against chapped ones. Hydration vs dehydration. Your lover was alive and yet you were dying. Forced to part ways by some cruel higher power that nobody could understand.

When he pulled away after a few moments, he responded. “I love you too. I love you so much. Promise me you won’t forget about me?”

“I could never forget anything about you Han Jisung. You’re too bright, too talented, too handsome, and too beautiful to be forgotten. You’ve always been my favorite star.”

The last thing you saw was a grin with tears streaming from his glassy eyes. You let your eyes shut again. “Can you sing me to sleep like you usually do?”

Han forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat. “What do you want me to sing?” He brushed away his tears.

“Gone away.”

“Do you want me to cry again?”

“Please, that’s my favorite song.”

“I’m going to butcher it and not sing it very well.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” you insisted.

He didn’t want to, but this was quite literally your last and dying wish. Who was he to refuse it? He shut his eyes, sniffled, cleared his throat, and began to sing. Beneath him, your body relaxed as everything began to slowly shut down.

When he finished the song, you were half asleep. He laid with his head still planted above your heart. You could feel the rumbles of his body and the pull of his voice. Realizing you weren’t quite asleep, he started to sing it again without the stutters and the occasional hiccup. He reached up and kissed your forehead as it came to an end again.

“Just one more? Three has always been my favorite number.” Your words were barely audible, but Han managed to hear them.

With a deep breath and more tears, he began it a final time. His own eyes were starting to get heavy. Your heartbeat was tugging him to sleep and covering him with a blanket of security, just like it always did. By the end of the third time, you were sound asleep.

Taking comfort in everything, he let his own eyes slip shut. He nuzzled his head into the warmth of your chest. A heavy sigh left his body as he let himself relax and fall into the outstretched arms of slumber.

Unfortunately, hours later, only one of you would wake back up.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @s3ungmins

Masterlist

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids drabbles #skz fanfic #kpop fanfic #han jisung #han jisung fanfic #han jisung fic #han jisung stray kids #stay #han jisung angst

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lets-try-some-writing · 9 months

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Oh god the vampire au you posted really scratched my brain in all the good ways!!!

But what if the decepticons took the kids? It's funny how they're after the three under the autobots care and doesn't bother with other humans I wonder why? I'd definitely want to see which decepticon each kid would be assigned to!! And how would they behave during their conversion!! Specially megatron there's no way he doesn't want one of his own

Arachnid would definitely be a spark eater! I mean do you see how destructive she is! She definitely prefers newly formed sparklings spark!!

Mwhaha, I do love the vampire AU and this ask. It gives me more concepts to play with. Oooh and yes Arachnid as a sparkeater makes a ton of sense.

And of course, ANGST (with a healthy dose of fluff)

Previous part here.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

It is a natural part of any Cybertronian's nature to feel the urge to bring more into the fold once their bloodline stabilizes and they find themselves mature enough to undertake the task. The Decepticons are no exception to this, but even with the number of Cybertronians falling into near extinction levels, they still have standards. Regardless of faction or frame type, Cybertronians are picky when it comes to their choice of who to bring into the fold. Bringing in adults is too risky due to their biological parts having settled and being unwilling to accept new components. Attempting to take in weak young is a waste of effort since they would not pass the aches and pains phase of the changes anyway. And then of course every frame type has their own unique specifications regarding what they are looking for in young as well.

Its such a hassle to the point where despite being on an organic world with millions to choose from, the Decepticons simply can't find it in themselves to sift through the countless young spawn. They have a war to win, trying to set up trials to find the perfect young is something they do not have the time or resources to do. Thus until the human children made their presence known, the Decepticons abstained from attempting to fold any human young for fear of having it backfire horribly. Soundwave was making valiant efforts to hunt down potential suitable young, but the going was slow with how much Decepticon forces needed to be focused on the war effort.

Potential sparklings needed to have certain traits in order to be worth the effort of attempting to fold. Not to mention every single mech on the Nemesis had certain parameters they needed to have met in order to even consider a candidate. It was simply too much work to meet the needs of every mech willing and wanting to bring more into the fold. But then the Autobots had to bring the human children into the mix and make the selection process FAR easier.

The children were intelligent enough to be of use to the Autobots during combat. They were strong enough to survive even amongst fighting giants and dangerous relics and substances. They were wise enough to learn and adapt, sticking to their partners and working as well as they could with their fleshy frames. Most importantly, each of three human young presented traits that matched the specifications of every frame type on the Nemesis. Any frame type that wanted the children would find success. They met all the parameters.

They were perfect.

Of course it took a degree of convincing on Soundwave and Starscream's parts to get Megatron to even agree that the idea was reasonable. However once confirmation was given to retrieve the children for the purpose of bringing into the fold was complete, those who wanted young readied to act. They were no fools, they could see that the Autobots had already laid down their claim, but there was still room to act. There would be no stopping the CNA contribution of the Autobots from sticking, but they could most certainly attempt to drown out as much of it as possible with their own bloodlines. And of course there were still rules to be followed.

Knockout and Breakdown had wanted to have a sparkling of their own since the very beginning and long before the war. The time for a journey to find worthy young simply never came before and during the conflict. Now though, there was a chance, and neither were willing to lose it. They needed an organic child who matched their grounder specifications, one who would be stable and level headed. With that thought in mind, they took one look at Jack and decided he was the one for them. But of course, they couldn't just snatch him. That would cause increadible damage to him during his development and earn them the ire of Arcee. No, such things happened on Cybertron too when different mecha took an interest in the same organic. There were protocols and rituals to handle such affairs, and while they were indeed on opposite sides of things, Knockout and Breakdown were going to follow the old rites regardless.

In accordance with tradition, Breakdown and Knockout sent a transmission to the Autobots and Breakdown covered up his Decepticon faction marker. Arcee was incredibly skeptical, especially with her boy still not knowing he was undergoing the first stages of the changes. However the rules have almost always been honored, and Breakdown at least was long known to be honorable. Thus with a great deal of apprehension and accompanied by most of the team, she went to speak with the duo on neutral ground. The discussion was... tense to say the least. But with neither of the Decepticons having earned Arcee's direct anger, an agreement was settled on despite the protests and arguments that went on amongst the team for over an hour.

Oaths were made, pacts agreed upon, and the rules set in place. There were a few quips and a few instances were discussions nearly fell through, but all those present were long since sick of the war. They wanted new sparklings, and Jack having additional caretakers would increase his chances of survival and developing well. As such the path was set and it was agreed upon that once the changes began in earnest, Arcee would allow Knockout and Breakdown to serve as secondary Sires. They offered her energon samples of their own, and as soon as the moment presented itself, she began offering Jack their energon alongside her own. He would still be HER boy first and foremost, but Knockout and Breakdown would feel the beginnings of the tie and slowly gain sway too.

As Jack's changes progressed and the time to take him away from his mortal family drew nearer, Arcee prepared to begin sharing as required. A carrying chamber was installed near her spark so that her young ward could be kept near to her and her Decepticon co-Sires were allowed to begin coming to visit their young charge when he was sleeping at base. Until he forgot his mortal life he could not be allowed to see them while awake, but their presence eased Jack enough that it was clear Knockout and Breakdown had a claim on him too.

Arcee tended to him during the day, but when he slept, Knockout and Breakdown were allowed to come and sing to him, holding him gently as he fell into deeper and deeper sleep with every passing cycle. Everything they did had to be overseen by Arcee and she was higher on the hierarchy of Sires tending to Jack, but so long as they listened, they were allowed to care for him. There were rules, and both Decepticons were obliged to offer Arcee deference regarding Jack in any capacity unless they were willing to fight her for for the right to be his main Sires. But neither saw the need, Jack was their too and that was all that mattered. And while they did sneak the boy a few gifts and run their digits along his small frame whenever they could get away with it, they kept to the rules and didn't make a fuss. When Jack forgot his mortal life they would be given more freedom to treat him with the affection they both wanted above all else to offer. June may or may not have found herself with more offerings she didn't understand in response to two additional Cybertronians taking an interest in her only son.

But of course it was not just Knockout and Breakdown who wanted a sparkling. Starscream saw the chance to have a sparkling and he was willing to do anything to take it. Soundwave too considered it, but he stepped aside the moment he saw Starscream's optics linger on Miko. He was not desperate in the way Starscream was and he saw no need to fight for the right. He could have a sparkling of his own in due time, and thus he did not interfere when Starscream watched Knockout and Breakdown somehow manage to make a deal and proceed to plan to do the same.

However unlike Knockout and Breakdown, Starscream was completely unwilling to take on a secondary role when it came to Miko. He was upfront when he landed before the Wreckers on the battlefield and made his intent known. Bulkhead and Wheeljack were of course unwilling to make a deal at first, but with how much care Miko needed, there simply wasn't much room to reject the seeker's offer. He raised dozens of sparklings with his trine prior to the war and was familiar with the Vosian methods of handling little ones. He had experience, a trait which both Bulkhead and Wheeljack lacked, especially when faced with the fact that Miko was quite likely to be a rather difficult sparkling to handle during the aches and pains phase of the changes. They hated offering any sort of leverage to Starscream, and Optimus was not at all pleased when they brought a slumbering Miko out for the seeker to see since neither were willing to allow Starscream into base.

Despite the numerous instances of Miko very nearly beating him into scrap with the Apex armor, Starscream was not at all malicious the moment he sensed that she was undergoing the changes. Bulkhead and Wheeljack kept a blaster aimed at his helm the whole time he cooed at Miko as she slept. However Starscream merely softened his voice and sung quietly to the sleeping child, running his digit through her hair to feel the faint resistance that came from flesh being turned to metal. There was an urge to take her and run, but Starscream abstained. She was tied to the Wreckers whether he liked it or not. It was best to wait until she forgot and then involve himself fully. So instead of fighting, he offered some of his energon and took to the skies with Bulkhead's commlink line. Starscream received pictures and updates regarding Miko's development from that point forward and he eagerly counted the cycles until she would be ready for him to become part of her life.

Seeing three of his inner circle begin making deals to have sparklings of their own, Megatron's carefully hidden desire for one to raise began to rise. Two of the three were already claimed, and while he could hunt down another human to bring into the fold, there was a more malicious part of him that was determined to try and take Optimus and Ratchet's little pride and joy for his own. Rafael was bound to them, that could not be changed, but Megatron might be able to gain leverage as well as a sparkling if he played his cards right. Optimus would never agree to share, not with him anyway. But the Prime allowed Breakdown and Knockout to associate with his team and begrudgingly offered updates regarding Miko. Who was to say that Megatron couldn't extend his own influence to gain a bit of a foothold?

It was not difficult to convince Knockout to bring a vial of Megatron's energon with him during his next visit to see Jack. The medic was downright terrified at the concept of trying to sneak Megatron's energon into Rafael's supplements, but he did not dare disobey when the threat of being kept from Jack was shoved in front of his face. Megatron could only smile in mixed joy and malice when he began to feel the faint pulls of a tie to Rafael blooming within him after around a month or so of having Knockout slip his energon into Optimus and Ratchet's contribution. He only grew more and more pleased when he received a message from the Prime demanding to know what he'd done.

Optimus: Megatron, what have you done to my sparkling?

Megatron: Nothing much Prime. I have simply assured that you will now have to agree to come to some sort of truce with me.

Optimus: I will do no such thing, not while you threaten Earth.

Megatron: Who is to say I will threaten Earth? This world is filled with young organics ripe for bringing into the fold. It would be foolish to destroy it.

Optimus: You have tried before.

Megatron: I have, but now I have an investment here. That sparkling of yours now has my energon flowing through his veins. He needs my aid too now.

Optimus: That is an egregious breech of sparkling developmental laws-!

Megatron: You and I both know those laws have been obsolete since Cybertron fell. Besides, what's done is done. Your sparkling is now also mine. If we do not come to some sort of agreement, he will die or end up like Arachnid.

Optimus: ...

Megatron: Well Prime? Do you wish to talk on equal ground or continue this game and risk the life of your young charge?

Optimus: How much do you wish to be involved in his life?

Megatron: I want to be a Primary Sire.

Optimus: That is too much.

Megatron: Is it? You still have Bumblebee do you not? You and your lapdog medic may have the sparkling for half of his development and I will have him for the rest.

Optimus: You are a monster.

Megatron: So what if I am? Our whole species has been regarded as such since the beginning. We steal the young of others to make into our own. How is what I am doing any different?

The team were quick to pinpoint Knockout as the one who put Megatron's energon into Rafael's supplements, but by that point there was nothing to be done. The changes were underway, the children were nearly ready to be collected and their mortal families fully compensated. The time for debate was over, now they needed to make some sort of truce or possibly lose the first sparklings brought into the fold since the height of the war.

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p4r4no1danarchist · 5 months

Text

Basically, why it isn't a dream is during the merge, the timeline? Basically, reset itself to balance all the new energy out so when Lloyd stopped the merge, he soft reset the universe. Now he just thinks it's a dream because that's the only logical answer in his head.

(also a song I think works well for this au)

When he finally wakes up, memories of the show and all, he finds himself in the body of a teenager going to a brand-new high school, and now, he's on a mission to find his friends and hope they also have a memory of this. The best part? He has a whole new family, their good but they aren't his family. The only person he recognizes in his "real" family, is their family friend and local weirdo, the madwoman, the myth, the legend, Mystake. And much to Lloyd's shock, and suspicion, she starts to make subtle references to Lloyd's "dream".

For example;

- Using incense Lloyd knows Wu and Garmadon (sensei Garmadon specifically) both used to use in his "dream”.

- Giving Lloyd word for word advice that she would have definitely given Lloyd before if not advice she gave, advice she “heard from somewhere else” that sounds similar to stuff Lloyd heard from Wu

- Giving him tea to help him relax and saying it was a gift from someone Lloyd knows very well

- She knows stuff about Lloyd even before he actually introduces himself to her

- Making small jokes about how Lloyds reflexes should be better than they are currently

- She makes a small remark about how she was sure Lloyd had green eyes, not grey

You get the idea, my point is, Lloyd starts to think Mystake may remember the dream too.

Which gives Lloyd hope he can make his friends remember too. The only problem now?

Lloyd has to find them, which is no easy feat because people know him as the kid who hangs around the local weird person of their town.

The first of the bunch he befriended? Definitely Jay; why? Because Lloyd remembers how he won Jay over the first time, comic books. So, when Jay was reading a starfighter comic book Lloyd walked over and asked him about it.

Jay was nervous of Lloyd at first but soon grew to be great friends with him after that. After that, Jay introduced Lloyd to Cole, Zane, and Pixal. Through already knowing his friends inside and out in his “dream”, he won over each one easily by playing his cards right.

Cole? All it took was showing he was truly a good person and wanted to help people, which was easy to prove when Lloyd kept pushing bullies away from his friends.

Pixal? He took an interest in her robotics club and helped raise money for a fundraiser the robotics club was hosting.

Zane? He kinda just befriended after meeting Pixal and hitting it off because Lloyd knew how to treat Zane like he's a person.

During that fundraiser he grew closer to his “new friends” and started to be happier and hope he may be able to remind them of who they used to be.

He became friends with Nya after defending a few people from some bullies; the head of those bullies though? Kai.

(What? You think I'd make an au without a healthy dose of RGB sibling angst? You were fooled then insert evil cartoon laughter here😈)

Which made Lloyd's heartache seeing one of the kindest people he used to know, bully and mock weaker people. But Lloyd tries to persevere and befriend Kai, to no avail until one day Lloyd sees Kai nearly get caught by a teacher for smoking. And Lloyd, being Lloyd, saves Kai from getting caught, instead taking the blame saying he's the one who was smoking, not Kai. Kai is shocked when Lloyd saves him and starts to try and treat Lloyd like a friend… By trying to get Lloyd to join him and his goons. Lloyd, not wanting to betray his friends, but also wanting to have his big brother back starts to have a hard time balancing both comfortably.

So, what does he do? He tries to balance both anyway of course! Up until he burns out and goes missing for a week, worrying everyone involved until they hear a rumour that he's staying at Mystake’s house. Nya, Cole, Jay, Zane, and Pixal all go to check on Lloyd, but Kai doesn't, he thinks Lloyd is abandoning him for weirdos and has none of that.. Until he gets a bad feeling (he can't tell what he's feeling, but don't worry everyone, it's just his conscience coming back and making him feel guilty.) for not going to see Lloyd, so he begrudgingly goes to see Lloyd.

Meanwhile; Lloyd is just trying to take a break emotionally after not being able to balance his social life very well.

So, seeing all his friends together, and at each other's throats again, he starts to break down in tears, wanting so badly to go back to his “dream”, where at least his friends were happy together as one big family.

He remembers every detail of his “dream” so much so that seeing who he once saw as family, wanting to fight and argue again, hurts him.

Kai sees Lloyd crying first and grimaces, walking over to Lloyd he hugs Lloyd to comfort him, much to everyone's surprise Lloyd hugs back and cries harder.

Everyone stops arguing and goes to comfort Lloyd until he falls asleep from exhaustion in a group hug.

Once asleep Lloyd finds himself in a weird room that looks like it's a part of Wu’s monastery, looking around on the walls he sees paintings of each of his friends' elements, but each painting is covered in tinted glass boxes. Lloyd tries to uncover the paintings but has no luck, making him feel defeated.

So instead, he tries to leave the room, walking over to the door at the end of the hallway, he tries to open it; and to his shock, it works. Walking out of the weird room he finds himself in Wu’s monastery again, the familiar scent of incense leading him down the halls and into Wu’s library.

He sees the incense stick burning but no one's in the room. Walking over Lloyd sees scrolls sprawled out across the dark oak table in a language he used to understand but now seems like gibberish to him.

It makes Lloyd’s heart ache knowing he can't understand Wu's writing anymore.

(Ngl, I feel like Wu just has horrible handwriting for things that only he'll understand, it's to keep the ninja from snooping.)

After a while he leaves Wu's library and finds himself wandering into where Misako and Garmadons bedroom used to be, on the bedside table of Misako's bed, he finds a photo of him and sensei Garmadon during Christmas hanging up lights on a Christmas tree.

Lloyd leaves the room soon after seeing the photo, and with each room he enters after that, the more grief he feels because he misses his family. As he walks around more, he gets frustrated over the life he had 'lived' in his "dream" and how he can't go back to it, how he can't go back to his family and friends.

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readerinsertsaremyguiltypleasure · 1 year

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Fic Rec List (Part 2)

My first rec list was strictly Billy Russo x Reader fics, but this one covers The Darkling (Shadow and Bone), Logan Delos (Westworld), and Caspian (The Chronicles of Narnia). There are only a few of each so I didn’t see much point putting them in their own separate lists.

Anyways, on with the fic recs!

The Darkling

Dusk Till Dawn by FluffyUnicorn666

Author’s summary: Your relationship with General Kirigan only exists after the sun goes down and you begin to wonder whether he loves you beyond the night calls. Before you can find out Kirigan’s true feelings, you’re tied up and thrown into the back of a van.

Rec notes: This is my go-to Darkling comfort fic. I don’t even care about the anachronisms. When I first got into Darkling x reader fics, there was a particular type I was after, and this was it. Non-Grisha reader - check. Angsty uncertainty about Aleksander’s feelings - check. Reader is put in danger/goes through traumatic experience - check. Aleksander going full Darkling when rescuing her - double check. And finally, a soft resolution where feelings are openly admitted and all misunderstandings are brought to rest - check and check.

Nyctophobia by ohthislove

Author’s summary: General Kirigan saves you after the Second Army raids your village in Fjerda, but he wants something from you in return.

Rec notes: Dark!fic isn’t normally my thing, but this one is an interesting role reversal, with the Grisha being the malevolent raiders and the Fjerdans sympathetic victims. This fic does come with a great big warning, though. It is definitely not for everyone, so please pay attention to the tags, specifically the “Rape/Non-Con” one. This is not a happy fic and there is no love between Kirigan and the reader.

Where Your Heart Is by Clairecrive

Summary: The reader is fed up with slowly losing Aleksander to Alina and decides to leave. Aleksander will have to stop her before it’s too late and he loses the one he really loves.

Rec notes: You can’t go wrong with a bit of angst, and the Alina “love triangle” provides perfect ammunition for it. This fic is definitely one of my more favoured of the “Reader is jealous of Alina” storylines.

Logan Delos

Delos and Austen by marvelmusing

Author’s summary: Logan Delos is the CEO of Westworld. You are the co-head of Narrative, and have been friends with Logan for nearly two years.

Rec notes: Logan can be such a fun character, and this fic demonstrates that well (though the last fic in the series is more serious). The writer does a great job of giving us the nicer side to Logan’s character while still keeping him a little bit of an asshole, which I appreciate. And I love the “Austen” nickname.

P.S. The link for this one is for marvelmusing’s Logan Masterlist, as it was easier just to link to the one page. I also recommend reading the other fic on it.

Just a Kiss by banditthewriter

Summary: After a shitty breakup, the reader confides in Logan that one of the things her ex said when he broke up with her was that she was a bad kisser. Logan offers himself as a test subject to disprove the accusation.

Rec notes: This one is a good mix of light angst and light smut. Throw in a healthy dose of friends-to-lovers, and you’ve got yourself a highly enjoyable fic.

Knee-Jerk Reaction by banditthewriter

Author’s summary: Logan reacts to finding out the reader loves him. Let me rephrase that: Logan reacts poorly to finding out the reader loves him.

Rec notes: I like this one because it starts post-confession and deals with the fall-out and processing of feelings. It’s a refreshing change from the common (though no less appealing) “love confession is immediately accepted and reciprocated” plot. Plus there’s a nice moment of jealous!logan to enjoy.

Logan Delos’s Soulmate by banditthewriter

Summary: Soulmate AU where you meet your soulmate in your dreams.

Rec notes: I love Soulmate AUs! There are so many different types, which means you get a bit of variety within the trope. If you are looking for tooth-rotting fluff, however, this is not that kind of soulmate au. This fic is surprisingly emotional, with a high focus on Logan’s drug addiction and self-worth issues. But don’t despair! There is a happy ending.

Caspian

Like It Once Was by banditthewriter

Summary: Modern AU. After Prince Caspian’s year long absence, the reader is informed that he no longer wants the throne, as it will prevent him from marrying a woman of non-royal heritage. This makes life difficult for the reader, as not only is it her job to manage such announcements, but she and Caspian had also been developing a relationship before he had left for military duty.

Rec notes: Ah, the good old “misunderstandings leading to unnecessary angst” trope. Love it! This is only a one-shot, which means that the angst is just the right length to stop it getting repetitive, and the flashbacks are spaced out well (I think there are only two) so they break the angst with a bit of fluff. All in all, a great read. For anyone who only has surface knowledge of the Narnia series (like me), this fic does feature the Pevensies, but it’s a modern AU, so knowledge of their stories is not needed to enjoy it.

Make Your Choice by banditthewriter

Author’s summary: When the reader was just a baby, she was promised to Prince Caspian of Telmar. Her and two other girls that is. Once the prince because King of Narnia, the women promised to Caspian are brought to Cair Paravel to see which will become Queen of Narnia. Can she make the king fall in love with her?

Rec notes: A lovely written fic that manages to fit into the arranged marriage trope while skirting the definition of “arranged” when it comes to the actual marriage (the characters fall in love and the marriage proposal is made from love… so willingly arranged marriage, maybe?). It’s a good fic if you want to read something lengthy and plotty that still has high focus on the romance aspect.

A Recipe For Love by padfootagain

Author’s summary: Your life was quiet, working in the Royal Kitchens and craving for a chance to become a cook. But your whole world changes when your eyes meet the King’s gaze…

Rec notes: Who doesn’t love a king/commoner love story? I particularly like this one because it is the reader who makes the big gesture at the fic’s climax, rather than the canon character. Usually it’s the other way around, so this was refreshing to read. Other highlights include Caspian looking after the reader when they are sick, and him meeting their parents (who don’t believe he’s the king).

Visiting Princesses by pillow-titties

Author’s summary: A banquet held to welcome visiting princess vying for King Caspian's hand has your jealousy reach its peak and brings hidden feelings to light.

Rec notes: A classic friends-to-lovers story with a heavy dose of smut. Seriously, this one is something like 80% smut and I am far from complaining.

What You Deserve by banditthewriter

Summary: Cornered into choosing a suitor, the reader thinks her best choice is a man who treats her with far less respect than she deserves. But a voyage on the Dawn Treader proves that she may have another option.

Rec notes: This one features the Pevensies, but Caspian is a king, so I’m guessing that means it is set between Prince Caspian and Voyage of the Dawn Treader? But if you haven’t seen the movies or read the books, as I haven’t, it doesn’t really matter. It is still an enjoyable fic with a very satisfying ending.

#fic recs #logan delos x reader #caspian x reader #the darkling x reader #darkling x reader

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wannab-urs · 9 months

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The Spreadsheet Digest - Vol. 15

Hi friends!!

Welcome to week 15 of The Spreadsheet Digest! I read a lot of angst this week.... but there's plenty of really good smut and fluff to balance it out, I promise! Also 3/10 fics are from one author, but I promise their stuff is to die for.

You can find the Spreadsheet here and all of my previous rec lists here.

Recs under the funny BTS pic from Triple Frontier

Birds of Prey - a Tommy one shot by @toxicanonymity

I normally wouldn't rec a tommy fic, but!! First of all Toxic wrote it so like... duh. Second of all it's kind of a sidebar to her Raider!Joel series and I'm assuming it kind of comes into play later in that series so like you should read it. Also it's fucking delicious. Raider!Tommy is sooooo fucking hot.

Fall Apart, Again - a Joel series by @wildemaven

AHHHHH THE TWIST!!! Healthy dose of angst right up front in the first chapter with these lovely hints of more to come AND THEN!!! there's a twist. I can't tell you about the twist because that would ruin it, but like I thought I knew what it was, right? And the thing I thought was gonna happen did and I was like oh! I called it. But that was a fakeout. There's a bigger twist. Fucking.... wild man. You gotta read it. (Oh and wildemaven writes so beautifully. The descriptive language is to die for). Get it while it's hot kids.

Breakout - a Joel series by @the-ginger-hedge-witch

Boxer (now trainer) Joel!! Reader has an asshole boxer bf! I hope Joel gets to beat the shit out of Tyler tbh. I really fucking love Ren's writing style and the way she builds up the characterization. Like we learn so much about Joel's life and personality, Tyler and Reader's relationship dynamic, Reader's sort of (as yet unknown to them) kinship with Joel, Sarah and Joel's relationship, and more all in 7K words. This fic is going to be so fucking lovely. I think it's one of those "Oh my god that poor man deserves to be happy for once in his miserable little life" fics and I LOVE those.

This is the Way - a Din one shot by @psychedelic-ink

I thought this fic was gonna be silly! And I mean I guess it was. Certainly no angst. But if you think accidentally moaning This is the Way would be silly.... you think wrong. The way Mando responded??? Good god this fic is hot, y'all. I just like... does Din have a breeding kink? Is it the fact that she said it when he creampied her and like... the marriage vow thing is "we will raise warriors" ??? Sorry I'm speculating a lot here. I just... anyway yeah feral din. very hot.

The Art of Healing - a Marcus Pike series by @northernbluess

This is such a gorgeous fic. It has a lot of discussion of ED recovery, so please read warnings and take care of yourself and don't read if it will hurt you BUT!!! The way the topic is handled in the fic is so fucking beautiful. Marcus is a precious angel baby and Jo is so so so strong and wonderful. It's really lovely to follow along with her therapy and see what she paints. It's also incredible watching her bond with Marcus grow. It's a slow burn, therapist x OFC, with lots of angst but also so many of these like... really tender and sweet moments. It's so clearly a story that is coming from the heart and I adore it and can't wait to read more.

Exile - a Javi P series by @jksprincess10

Ok big warning up front -- she killed steve lmao. That's how reader ends up being Javi's partner. I really love how Javi's dickish demeanor from early season one is being played up here. Big fuckin fan. I just know this is gonna be a beautiful smutty enemies to lovers extravaganza.

Only Angel - a Javi P series by @tieronecrush

I really like professor peña. Like it makes a lot of sense that he'd do that after retiring. I love the concept of this fic so much. And the tension is being built up so fucking well. Javi pining and chastising himself. The subtle mention of reader doing something to support herself that is definitely not TAing. I would be more than happy to be Javi's extraneous circumstance. Anywayyyy I fucking love this and I'm so excited for the next chapter ahhhh.

-------------- oldies but goodies ------------

I grabbed a giant chunk off the older half of the sheet so there's a pretty good section where it's just one author lol. Oh and a lot of these are on AO3 but several of the stories were also posted on tumblr, I just read them on AO3 for whatever reason.

One Thing I'm Missing - a Joel series by @joelscruff

Sex, Drugs, and... Tacos - a Dieter one shot by @absurdthirst

Deseos Profundos - Javi P one shot by @absurdthirst

Le Trio De Fleur - a Din one shot by @absurdthirst

Chemical Feelings - a Din one shot by @absurdthirst

Menace - a Joel one shot by @atinylittlepain

I'll Never Fall in Love Again - a Dieter series by OonaJaeAdira (on AO3)

Stress Relief - a Javi P one shot by ezrasbirdie (on AO3)

Waterproof - a Dieter one shot by LeslieLyman (on AO3)

Starlight - a Din Series by LovelessDagger (on AO3)

Let the right one in - a Joel Series by LaMorenadelAtl (on AO3)

Dark but just a game - a Joel One shot by devilmademewriteit (on AO3)

Celestial Navigation - Dieter Series by @write-and-buried

Extra Whipped Cream - a Dieter Series by @pettyprocrastination

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

Happy Reading!

#fic recs #the spreadsheet digest #fanfiction recommendations #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro fics #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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technitango · 1 year

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Happy New Year

To all my followers, to all my mutuals, to everyone, may your start to your year be as good as it can be. I am sending my love and well wishes. Thank you to everyone who has made this last year a better one for me! Please accept this devil judge fic as my gift~

(A bit explicit under the cut so be aware loves. This is a gahan fic with a healthy dose of yohan angst because of course.)

It's the end of a year and the beginning of a new one and Yohan's scars are aching. The scars from his father, barely visible now but some still peeking from beneath burned flesh, they ache in a way that causes Yohan to flinch, to cower, to clench his fingers into the covers until his knuckles go white. The scar that marrs the old lashings, the largest one, burns in the shape of a twisted cross along the expanse of his back, chokes him and suffocates him, leaves him feeling exposed and raw. There's another, across his palm, that he traces with his thumb reverently, and it aches but in a way that somehow dulls all the other pain, fills him with a taste in his mouth, oddly bitter and sweet at the same time.

Mostly the pain is bearable. Worn, dull, these are familiar pathways trodden repeatedly. But sometimes it hits him all at once, unexpectedly, and Yohan has to grit his teeth, ride the waves of it and try to pull the pieces of himself back together afterward, the pieces that are left anyway. There are nights when he thinks he'll never be able to manage it, that the weight will crush him, the reminders of all his past wounds will rip him into so many shreds he won't have anything left.

For some reason, when things are just on the cusp of new beginnings, or endings, it always seems worse. The end and start of a new year snaps something inside Yohan, and he feels spread thin, frayed at the edges. Yohan would like to say that he's gotten used to it. That he isn't a coward who runs away from his fears, but someone who faces them head on. But there's a part of him that will always whimper like a frightened child, a part deep inside that no matter how much he tries will never fully go away. Yohan would like to subdue that part of himself. His therapist says he should comfort it. Yohan is trying. Has tried. Will continue to.

But for now he will curl in on himself and grip the sheets tight with clammy fingers. The room is stifling and hot. The clock on the wall reads just shy of midnight. Yohan closes his eyes to it and wills the unwelcome ghosts to pass.

There's a shift as the other side of the bed dips from an added weight, and Yohan flinches at the feel of cool fingers brushing sweat damp hair from his forehead.

"Yohan-ah," Gaon murmurs softly.

Yohan had purposely slipped from their shared bed to the extra bedroom tonight, knowing that he would most likely be tossing and turning fitfully, aware of what a night like this would bring, and not wanting to disturb Gaon's own sleep. He should have known Gaon would seek him out anyway, as he always does. Stubborn to no end.

Yohan huffs out a strained laugh, "Kim Gaon, go back to bed." He hates the way his voice comes out tremulous and thin.

"I am in bed." Gaon points out, petulant.

Yohan sighs, rolling over and hiding the wince that elicits as best he can, he settles a frustrated but still fond gaze on the other man across from him.

Gaon looks tired. There are dark circles under his eyes, and his brown hair is messy, his pajamas rumpled. He's been busy these days, work taking a toll on him, and he hasn't been getting much sleep. Yohan hates that he's become yet another reason Gaon won't be getting a good night's sleep.

Gaon has started gently stroking Yohan's head, and Yohan resists the urge to lean into the touch. He doesn't deserve such a gentle touch, not tonight, not when every reminder of his failings are mocking him.

Gaon looks hurt when Yohan pulls away. Yohan wants to fix it immediately, but his intellect is failing him tonight, his head feels stuffed full of cotton. So he doesn't say anything.

When Yohan closes his eyes he sees flames. He had never deluded himself into thinking that revenge would absolve him of his sins, had tried his best to not even dare to hope that the nightmares would perhaps lessen, even a little. Yet they had, hadn't they? More than he had expected them to. And the weight on his shoulders had lifted, to an extent. But feelings are fickle things. Yohans scars run deeper than the superficial ones across his skin, and they will never go completely away.

Gaon is in his space again. Yohan opens his eyes to watch as Gaon pulls Yohan's hand with the scar across the palm, Gaon's scar, and raises it to his lips, gently kisses it. He makes eye contact with Yohan as he does so, and Yohan swallows thickly. Gaon's eyes are burning with the kind of flames Yohan would gladly die in.

Before he can stop himself Yohan wraps a firm hand behind Gaon's neck, yanks him none too gently close, and roughly connects Gaon's lips with his own. He knows this game. Gaon is trying to be distracting. Lucky for Gaon he has always managed to be terribly, awfully, wonderfully distracting.

Gaon's lips are warm, and Yohan runs his tongue across the seam of them, nips at Gaon's bottom lip until Gaon is opening his mouth to him, and Yohan can taste him and devour him. He tightens his hold on the back of Gaon's neck, catches some strands of Gaon's hair and pulls. Gaon gasps against Yohan's mouth, but Yohan doesn't let him pull away. He kisses Gaon hard enough to bruise, bites at his lips until he tastes the metallic tang of blood.

Yohan ignores the way his scars scream at him in protest, pushes down the words of his demons of guilt, you're using him again. Instead he lets pleasure take their place. He kisses along Gaon's jaw, Gaon's neck, bites hard at the juncture between neck and shoulder, licks soothingly and then bites again.

Gaon jolts against him, entangles their legs together under the sheets, drawing Yohan closer. Yohan sits up with urgency, climbs on top of Gaon then, pushing the other man into the bed, straddling him. He grabs Gaon's arms tight, pulls them above his head in a vice-like grip.

Gaon raises his eyebrows, looking amusedly up at Yohan. The younger man's face is flushed, chest rising and falling heavily. Yohan watches a small bead of blood pool along Gaon's bottom lip, ducks down to swipe it away with his tongue. Yohan pauses, his lips barely ghosting across Gaon's own.

Gaon whispers into his mouth then, a provocation, "Use me, Yohan-ah." And something inside Yohan comes undone.

There's a loud rushing in his ears, and he knows he should move slower, should be gentler. But Yohan also knows Gaon understands this, they've danced this dance plenty of times before.

Yohan is keenly familiar with the way Gaon moans, deep and breathless, when Yohan bites at the inside of his thighs. The way he writhes, when Yohan digs his fingers into his sides hard enough that the marks will be there in the morning.

Yohan still prepares him, of course, he doesn't want to break Gaon, necessarily, but he doesn't take his time, like he usually would. In fact there's barely any time at all before Yohan is pushing inside Gaon, and Gaon is tensing around the intrusion because it hurts, of course it does. Part of Yohan worries and wants to care, and the other part, the part that's unwinding and spinning out of control, well that part of him thrills at it, craves more of the furrow of pain to Gaon's brows. Wants to mark Gaon and delve into him so deeply, so completely, that he never stops feeling Yohan inside him.

There are tears in the corners of Gaon's eyes, and they trail down his cheeks as he flutters his eyes open, looking at Yohan, seeing Yohan for who he is, and still wanting him, all of him.

"Move." Gaon mouths the words at him.

So Yohan does. He moves against Gaon deep, and rough, and Gaon only urges him to continue, wraps his arms around Yohan, digs his nails hard into Yohan's back. He rakes them down the scar there, and Yohan doesn't really feel that at all, but he still wants Gaon to do it again and again and again.

A wild stray thought enters Yohan's mind. The thought that he'd like it if every scar across his body was made by Gaon, just like the one on his palm. Because Gaon owns him as thoroughly and completely as Yohan owns Gaon. It's a terrifying truth, yet thrilling all the same.

Gaon's desperate moans have increased in frequency, and his thighs wrapped around Yohan's sides are trembling. Yohan watches in fascination at the way Gaon comes undone beneath him, even as he never falters in his ruthless pace.

This is coming undone in a different way. When Yohan orgasms his vision goes white for a moment, and he grips Gaon's arms tight, struggling to intake air, shaking and consumed by pleasure.

When his mind clears, Yohan becomes aware of the fact that Gaon is gently stroking Yohan's head again. Yohan has at some point leaned into Gaon and rested his head against the crook of his shoulder.

Yohan's scars still ache. But to be fair, everything aches now, in a not entirely unpleasant way. If he bothered to look at the clock Yohan would see that it is well past midnight, the dawn of a new morning, and a new year. Yohan has never been much for traditions, and he isn't superstitious, but the rhythm of Gaon's breathing, and the tug of his fingers through Yohan's hair are perhaps enough to ease the nightmares, and to define that as at least a hopeful start to a year, well, for Yohan that is certainly more than he could ever dream of.

#the devil judge #gahan #techi writes fic #happy new year 2023 with some gahan as it should be #🥰

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goldinthemtharhills · 1 year

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Intro & List

Hello hello! I’m TheSunshineDragon on Ao3! I also occasionally write non-kpop works under WoodElfJedi and post High & Low fics under YukensHairtie.

List of Works:

Stray Kids

Series:

Domestic Doses (Perpetually Incomplete, Platonic Fluff, Slice of Life, General Shenanigans)

The Wind Under Your Wings (Complete, Danceracha with Wings, Platonic, Wingfics, Sickfics, Hurt/Comfort)

I’ve Got An AU For That (Incomplete, AUs, Platonic Relationships, Little Bit of Everything)

Tell The Wolves I’m Home (Complete, Werewolf/Wolves AU, Platonic Pack Dynamics, Wolf!Minho, Angst, Sickfic, Hurt/Comfort)

Ash & Oak & Thorn (Incomplete, Magic AU, Platonic Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort)

Let Be What Is, And Be What Isn’t (Incomplete, AUs, Platonic HyunLix)

Yours & Mine (Incomplete, Platonic Soulmate AU, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection)

Chan the Zookeeper (Incomplete, Shifter AU, Humour/Crack, Hurt/Comfort, Wholesome Vibes Coming Your Way)

The Saga of Chan & His Dragon Menaces (Incomplete, Dragons, Humour/Crack, Magic, Fluff)

The Heart of a Summer Child Born in Spring (Complete, MCD, Terminal Illnesses, Magic AU, Hyunjin-centric, Two versions)

Non-seried Fics:

Threads (One-shot, Based on the I’ll Be Your Man Kingdom Stage, Heavy Angst, Grief/Mourning, Magic, Brotherhood)

Let’s All Die Naturally In A Healthy Way (One-shot, MinChan Fic Fest, Platonic Relationships, Androids, Post-Apocalyptic, Hurt/Comfort)

Broken Glass, Pieced Back (One-shot, Rated M, Platonic MinSung, Vampires, Heavy Angst, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Whump)

The Itsy-Bitsy Spider (Incomplete, Spiderverse AU, Hurt/Comfort, Angst)

Summer Breeze Makes Me Feel Fine (One-shot, Jisung-centric, Sea Monsters, Burn Out, Introspection)

You’re Not A Bet I Care To Take (But I’m Going To Anyways) (One-shot, Platonic ChanLix, Assassins & Hitmen AU, Angst, Found Family)

Attachments Have Consequences (One-shot, Spies & Secret Agents, Inspired by District Nine MV, Light Angst, Found Family)

Stabby Stabby (One-shot, Angst, Jeongin Being an Idiot, Hurt/Comfort)

Ficlet Collection (2023) (Incomplete)

You May Be Idiots, But You’re My Idiots (Complete, Sickfic, Assassins & Hitmen AU, Minho is a Good Hyung)

The 100-Point Children (Complete, Based on a Tumblr Post, Adoption, Found Family, Hyung-line as Single Parents, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort)

An Objective Reply To A Subjective Question (One-shot, Minho & Seungmin-centric, Canon Compliant, Platonic Relationships, Character Study, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff)

I’ll Stand Until I Can’t (One-shot, Gang AU, Minho-centric, Miscommunications, Bang Chan Being an Idiot, Heavy Angst)

Into The Thick Of It (One-shot, Magic AU, Toddler!Jilix, Witch Minho, Fluff, Slight Crack)

Blooming Death In These Lungs (One-shot, Platonic Hanahaki, Angst, Minho-centric, Angst With A Happy Ending)

Drowning Without Water (Deadpool AU, MinChan, Platonic Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD)

SKZITZY

The Ferryman (One-shot, Vague Allegory for Death, AU, Grim Reapers, Kid Fic, Angst, Magic, Non-Linear Narrative)

To The Wind I Go (Incomplete, Magic AU, Wendigos, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Found Family, Winter VibesTM)

Money Can’t Buy Class (One-shot, Hyunjin/Yeji, College/University AU, Complicated Relationships, Ambiguous/Open Ending)

NCT

Affectionate (One-shot, Doyoung & Taeyong are Best Friends, College/University AU, Emotional Support Best Friends)

Lord of the Rings

Tiny Legolas Causing Chaos ft. Thranduil The Tired Single Dad (Incomplete series, Family Fluff, Kid!Legolas)

Another Pillow Fight (One-shot, Slight Crack, Aragorn and Legolas being idiots)

The 68 Rules of Middle-earth (List-fic, Crack Treated Seriously)

Quit Snoring Already (Slight crack, Dwarves Causing Sleep Problems)

Transformers: Prime

Transformers Prime: Communications (Complete, Crack, slight OOC-ness)

The Field Medic & The Doctor (Complete, Grief/Mourning, PTSD)

Star Wars: Rebels

The Rebels Prank War (Incomplete, Prank Wars, Slight Crack, Humour)

Merlin

A Nice Thing To Have (One-shot, Fluff, Merlin Gets A Hug)

HTTYD

Cotton Candy Spun Clouds (One-shot, PTSD, Light Angst)

High & Low

We’re All A Little Fragile (One-shot, PTSD, Fluff, Light Angst)

Fireworks (One-shot, Fluff, Injuries, Light Angst)

Crashing Down (One-shot, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort)

Brother Bear (Little Bear Cub) (One-shot, Modern AU, Angst, Accidental Baby Acquisition)

Crossovers

Don’t Shoot The Messenger [SVT x High & Low] (Gang AU, Child Abandonment, Mild Hurt/Comfort)

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outpost51 · 5 months

Text

decemTBR roundup #1 -- weeks 1 + 2

there's probably gonna be more than one of these for week 2 but that's not important anyway LEGGO

in order of READING, not of rank (bc that's super rude yo)

Project Sunseeker (Improved Version) || @thetrashbagswasteland || ao3 || on-going, current wc: 47,531

i'm actually feral for this universe that cast has built, and these initial chapters are all first contact linguisitic shenanigans and shep just being lost in general and i love it a lot okay? this fic permanently altered the thumbs up gesture for me in the best way

The Weight of Memory || @sparatus/@lieutenantabrudas || ao3 || on-going, current wc: 32,220

hi do you wanna get hopelessly attached to minor characters that get no screentime in their actual media and that the fandom as a whole generally forgets about? do you wanna have so many feelings about the horrors of war and the lasting impact it has on everyone, written by someone who was raised by generations of veterans and has a special interest in the historical impact of warfare? what the fuck are you waiting for go read it

To Catch a Rabbit || @sparatus/@lieutenantabrudas || ao3 || complete, 82,814 words

just a good fun murder mystery with a healthy dose of mutual pining that does, eventually, resolve itself in a heated moment that left me screaming like that one excited baby in that one gif

something to remember us by || @elizashepard || ao3 || oneshot, 1,067 words

obviously i'm going feral for anything that does nyreen/aria justice, and this is now on my list of fics to reread when i need a good cry

i read a BUNCH of oneshots by @thetrashbagswasteland actually, most of them in one day. how

Toothpaste || ao3 || 877 words

this is just a cute little vetryder moment, I love them your honor

Putting Up With Us || ao3 || 1,241 words

Honestly if you want good rarepair shit cast literally created the tag for these bastards and this is some delicious fluff

The Storm Between Us || ao3 || 2,663 words

rems is like. my tragedy comfort character she's one of my moms now ok thx

Crunchy Pebbles || ao3 || 2,859 words

you know what's great? barrix + vetryder beach episodes THAT KICK YOU IN THE TEETH

Worth Melting For || ao3 || 2,809 words

more rarepair fluff but this time it smarts a little

Dilatory || ao3 || 4,370 words

THIS SMARTS A LOT MORE

Gone Wherever You May Be || ao3 || 1,279 words

"i hope this kryterius angst hurts uwu teehee" YEAH IT HURTS YOU SON OF A BITCH

Hurry Hurry - or there'll be time to waste || ao3 || 3,331 words

god avi’s self esteem always kicks me straight in the kokoro but this one is bittersweet rarepair domesticity 🥺

A Fraction Of Your Happy Heart || ao3 || 1,246 words

i am a PUDDLE i love them SO MUCH and i need MORE BARRIX FLUFF FOREVER

Ryncol Tastes Like Ass || ao3 || 4,833 words

this is honest to god the slapstick levity i needed after the ANGST MARATHON

Tales in the Last Days || ao3 || 11,404 words

both heartwarming and heartbreaking, if you like found family finding their way through hardship, you'll have a good time

Chomp the Champion Varren || ao3 || 1,595 words

CHOMP IS BEST BOY

Strike Two || ao3 || 6,068 words

this is just "how alec ryder and castis vakarian became buddies shortly after shanxi" and every bit of it is good and wonderful

#decemTBR #fic rec

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mppmaraudergirl · 2 years

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Idk what this says about my psychological situation but something about a guy being jealous just hits right where it's supposed to. I love it and idk why. SO am i sad that james finally realized he wanted to be with her romantically 5 seconds before he saw her with someone else? Yes, devastated! But am i freaking out about the amazing jealousy scenes you're about to write? Abso-fucking-lutely!!! I do love the plot twist tho and it reminds me of The Life and Times. (don't want to say what scene I'm talking about if there are people who haven't read it, having said that if you're one of the people go to ff.net right now and read tlat that is an order). Anyway I LOVE IT when you write angst because you do it sooo well! Can't wait for the next chapter

haha thank you! There must be a healthy dose of angst in my fics. Glad someone at least is looking forward to it!! A little pining will be good for James in the long run! lol And I must admit I read TLAT so long ago I'm missing the reference here..

#runs away #chasing life #chasing life spoilers

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obsidiancreates · 2 years

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Since the “I Hope Your Happy Now” song ask gave me a healthy dose of angst for Actor—How about fluffy headcanons from before the Manor left him as a twisted, corrupted version of himself?

(…And not picture him crying alone at his desk, soon after the divorce. At first glance, he punches his and Celine’s wedding certificate which once hung proudly on the wall. He shatters the glass and chokes back a sob—carefully taking the frame down. Oww, my feels.)

TTTTTOTTTTT

Okay, okay, fluff, fluff...

While he was somewhat self-absorbed before, it manifested more as Absent-Mindedness than cruelty. Damien and William would use this to prank him all the time by just showing up to "Celebrate" something and not explaining what an he's just be like "Ah! Of course The... thing! I know about it."

Anyway they always bring over like cake or wine or whatever and it just ends up a nice little party with drunken laughter while admitting there's no real celebration or anything. Actor falls for it every single time, it's a lovely tradition.

(Fuck I realized this makes Damien not knowing why they're there in WKM more angsty. Fuck.)

Okay ummmm as kids they would hide games and toys and snacks out in old hollow trees and squirrel dens and such, just so they could stay out longer without having to go in for food or more toys for their games. Actor was in charge of hiding them and he did it so well sometimes months after they find a toy they completely forgot about or an absolutely ravaged-by-animals snack store.

When he first started trying to court Celine he had no idea how he could possibly get her romantic attention so he bought tons and tons of gifts for her. But she only returned his advances when out of desperation he gave her a little baby rose bush he'd raised himself (with guidance from the gardener). Yes Celine and Rose Imagery are forever linked in my mind, beautiful and elegant and alluring yet sharp and dangerous to those who aren't careful enough.

Anyway he raised a baby rose bush until it had it's first blossom and gave her the entire plant once it did and that won her over.

He and William would try to jump from the roof into the pool and miraculously never died! Actor did better dives but William got bigger splash radius. Damien got to pick the winner arbitrarily and whoever won got ice cream (neither of them ever noticed that meant Damien got free ice cream every single time and he never felt a need to point it out).

Whenever Actor tried his hand at scriptwriting he'd put on a full one-man play for his friends to get the full idea of his vision. This was complete with a refreshment table and yes, full intermission. He went all-out for absolutely everything. No holding back with this guy.

Guess who always got free ticket to his opening nights? Part of that was yes, to ensure he'd get showered with compliments from at least 3 people every time, but part of it was because they have a good time every time! So it's a win-win!

Before The Manor fucked him up he was was a very loyal friend (which is why he loaded William so, so much money, if Abe is to be believed about that). He didn't always prioritize right, a lot of time his career would come first, but he valued them a lot and was very loyal.

#actor mark #markiplier #markiplier egos #wkm #I love the idea of him being Generally Good because I'm a big fan of The Higher They Are The Harder They Fall

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lambden · 2 years

Text

back with another flash fic challenge— the first one since spring of this year! I wrote some cahir/eskel in a very loose space AU. featuring a healthy dose of weird kinky wireplay and some characterization that I entirely stole from people who write cahir much better than me. enjoy!!

E, 5.7K, angst & smut but no actual smut, sci-fi AU Also on AO3!

The meal replicator emits a simple six-note song when it finishes its task, and Cahir glances over to carefully consider the small machine. People find the sound more pleasing than a routine electronic noise, even if it serves the same purpose and triggers the same chemical reaction in the human brain. Even though his brain is not wired to receive the same satisfaction, Cahir mimics the song. His voice is far from melodic but the noise still calms him— until the replicator beeps again, then he hurries to open its door.

Cahir carries his mug out of the dining hall, humming to himself. His own quarters are right next to Emperor Emhyr’s, a fact that embarrasses and satisfies him in equal measure. He understands that his proximity to the Emperor is only for convenience’s sake, but on lonely nights like this he likes to believe that Emhyr placed him there as a sign of trust.

He places a hand against the Emperor’s door as he does every night but doesn’t knock, just holding his palm to the solid metal. Soon, upon his leader’s return to the space station , this door will be opened again and Emhyr will call on him for evening strategy sessions. And it will be soon; Cahir is sure of that.

Naturally, his own quarters are more modest than the Emperor’s. He has no paraphernalia from home or furniture with which to entertain guests, because his role on the station is not to host or provide entertainment. But despite the lack of a bed there is a small bedside table, and Cahir sits on the ground beside it now, humming the song of the replicator.

His fingers curl around the hot mug until his pain receptors are almost activated, then he pulls back in time to avoid burning his skin. While Cahir has no taste for hot cocoa, or most human foods, he understands the appeal. The sweet smell and warmth are comforting, and the funny gelatinous marshmallows bobbing up and down in the hot liquid coax a smile out of Cahir for reasons he can’t entirely place. He only wishes that he had someone here to actually drink the cocoa.

But his role here is certainly not to complain. Cahir raises his chin to stare out the window, taking in the expanse of space outside. In the far distance stars twinkle at him; he wonders if those are the same stars visible from Vicovaro. His home planet, though windy with unruly weather, had always had the most beautiful sunsets. He and his siblings used to stay up to watch it; of course, they never slept anyway, but waiting out the long night was always more tolerable when you weren’t alone.

Vicovaro is a subject of internal conflict for Cahir, and thus he doesn’t like to spend much time thinking about it. He holds a great deal of nostalgic affection for where he was made, but he also recognizes that the planet was politically dominated by the Empire. Had Vicovaro been less pathetic, or boasted any military strength, perhaps they could have put up a fight against the invading forces. But Nilfgaard rightfully took over the planet of small manufacturing facilities and farms, and so Cahir’s greatest journey had begun.

He turns his thoughts away from his old planet and cups his hands around the hot cocoa once more. Despite the lonely stars, the skies are devoid of movement. Cahir watches for the distant white flame that he knows will arrive any day now, signifying the triumphant return of Emhyr’s ship. His Emperor will dock onto the space station, and he’ll find it just as pristine as when he left almost a month ago. No— even more pristine.

The hope soothes him. Cahir stays silent, watching the sky for the approaching ship. He hums the song over and over, until the station’s automated lighting system reaches its morning brightness. Still no light appears on any horizon.

Cahir gets up, stretching his limbs and lifting his arms over his head. Time to prepare for his regularly scheduled rounds. He retrieves the now cold cup of cocoa and heads back out into the hall. Almost as soon as the door shuts behind him, a small shuttle careens towards the station.

“If this is the last you ever hear from me, I want you to know I love you,” rumbles Eskel, his thumb jamming down the communicator button as he reaches around the dashboard to prepare for docking. “And also I want you to tell everyone that I died in a much, much cooler way.”

“You aren’t going to die,” Geralt snorts, his voice tinny through the ship’s speakers. “We’ve scanned this hunk of junk over and over for any signs of life and there’s nothing on any radar. No shields, only some outdated cloaking.”

Looking up at the massive space station, it’s easy to see what his brother means by outdated. Some of the outer panels are in dire need of repair and the engines obviously haven’t been maintained in decades. The landing bay doors are swinging open, beckoning him in. Eskel is reminded of a carnivorous plant waiting to trap its prey. He shudders, glaring at the station. “The lights are on.”

“But nobody’s home,” supplies Geralt. Eskel supposes he’s right; they would have picked something up by now. “Come on, it’s basically buried treasure without any guards. Grab as much as you can carry; hell, tow some vintage parts behind your ship. They won’t notice a thing missing. Vesemir said that no activity has been flagged here in a few decades.”

“Right,” Eskel says, still uneasy. “... Keep the lines open?”

“I’m here,” Geralt reassures him, even though he’s nowhere near here. If there really is a threat aboard this old vessel, his family will never make it in time to help him. Eskel lets go of the mic, instead reaching to secure his weapon in its holster. He braces himself for whatever awaits him.

He couldn’t have possibly braced himself enough.

The ominous landing bay welcomes him aboard, although all posted signage is in a language he doesn’t recognize. A quick scan reveals it as Nilfgaardian, and Eskel frowns, forwarding the translation to Geralt. Although they tend to have their fingers in many pies, Nilfgaard doesn’t spend much time on this side of the galaxy. Their efforts have been focused on Cintra and Redania, and on claiming old, long-uncontested territories and dwarf planets. Maybe a hundred years ago he would have been scared to sneak onto a Nilfgaardian vessel, but their empire is practically archaic now.

Following the translated signs for 'cargo hold’, Eskel keeps his wits about him and explores in silence. As far as he can tell, all the lights are automated and kept on a planetary schedule; it must be mid-morning back on Nilfgaard. But the elevators are surprisingly clear of dust and none of the lights have burnt out, so this station must have some mechanical method of maintaining itself.

The cargo hold yields no remarkable hidden treasure, save for an extremely unusual garden. Eskel has yet to remove his helmet or suit but the presence of plants is promising; he pauses to run a quick test of the air. It’s not dissimilar from Morhen air, and the pressure is lighter than he expected for a ship.

Bemused but curious, Eskel kneels at the edge of the garden, photographing the plants. He can’t identify all of them but the ones he recognizes are harmless, mostly herbs and flowers. The garden is only a few metres wide and the plants are short instead of overgrown. Eskel reaches to one of the herbs, twisting the stem between his gloved fingers. The growth has been carefully clipped back. Maintained, just like the elevators and halls. His blood runs cold.

“Geralt,” Eskel rumbles, pressing down the button on his arm that will signal his brother. “I don’t think I’m alone here.”

Two days from now, Emperor Emhyr var Emreis will have been on his crusade for a month. Cahir awaits the anniversary with nearly unbearable excitement, because he remembers his leader’s advisor, a rather unpleasant human named Vilgefortz, bragging about how the away mission would undoubtedly take little time under Emhyr’s command. ‘At most, a month,’ Vilgefortz had boasted to the gathered navigators and soldiers in the control room. No one paid him much mind, all bustling about to prepare for their imminent departure. But Cahir, the sole occupant of the station who would not join Emhyr on his journey, had clung to the words as religious humans cling to the words of their holy preachers. At most, a month.

And now, twenty-eight days after the departure of his emperor’s vessel, Cahir expects his arrival any hour now. He kicks into high gear— literally— and adopts a rigorously productive schedule. He cleans areas of the station that aren’t even on his cleaning docket, scrubbing the high ceilings of the command centre and carefully wiping down Commander Morvran Voorhis’ array of weapons. Cahir hums to himself all the while; he’s sure he sounds about as melodic as a half-dead robot bird built by a child, but he can’t help it. He wasn’t created to sing, but until his master’s return (at most, two days from now!) no one can stop him from humming.

Over the sound of his own voice he nearly doesn’t hear the footfalls from the open door. But his sensors are better than any human hearing, so Cahir whips around, rag in one hand and antique sword in the other. He half expects to see his Emperor silhouetted in the artificial light from the hallway, standing tall and strong and waiting for Cahir to come and kneel before him.

Instead, a stranger stands in the open door. Cahir’s system begins overheating as he struggles to process the sight before him. The stranger is broader than his emperor, and taller, wearing a bulky space suit and helmet unlike any technology Cahir has ever seen. In his hand is a gun that will not do much to immobilize an advanced model like him, but Cahir still shakes, afraid despite himself.

The big stranger stares through his visor. He doesn’t shoot, but he doesn’t lower his weapon, either. Instead, he speaks— it takes Cahir only a moment to translate the language. It takes him longer to try to wrap his mind around the soft, nearly kind timbre of the man’s voice. For the first time, Cahir sees his eyes: dark, and gentle. “Are you the only one on board?”

“Yes,” Cahir answers proudly, before realizing in a panic that he probably should have bluffed and said no. But he has never been expected to act in a forceful capacity, only as a cleaner— Emhyr’s most trusted cleaner, to be sure, and the last line of defense, but he isn’t exactly a security robot. He would have to download a whole new set of processes to even learn how to wield the scimitar in his hands. He clings to the blade’s grip anyway, hoping it will intimidate the stranger. “That is, I thought I was until just now.”

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” The man raises his other hand. “Are you… why are you here?”

“I work for the Emperor,” Cahir informs the stranger, who seems inappropriately unimpressed by this declaration. “Emperor Emhyr…? Deithwen Addan yn Carn aep Morv— ah. The White Flame Dancing On The Graves of His Enemies, I suppose, would be the translation in the common tongue. He’s on an away mission at the moment, so— I— why are you here?”

Beneath his helmet, the man’s face twitches. “There’s been no signs of life in this quadrant for a very long time.” His tone is still too kind. Cahir can’t remember the last human who spoke this kindly to him— he immediately distrusts it. “I’m a… um, mechanic. I was flying by and saw the lights, and I thought maybe you were stranded.”

“I am not— we are not stranded,” Cahir corrects. “We are cloaked. In fact, you should not have been able to board the vessel without our security system evaluating your threat level. How did you board?”

The mechanic blinks. “The doors were open.”

Were he human, Cahir might blush. He had opened the landing bay doors, but only because he thought a passing comet was Emhyr’s ship and he hadn’t wanted to delay the White Flame’s entry for even one moment. He should have known better than to leave them open; he curses, privately making a note to adjust his own impulses.

“Well… that is because I saw you coming,” bluffs Cahir, taking a leaf out of Vilgefortz’s book and trying to copy his confidence. “And in order to properly prepare for the Emperor’s arrival in two days, I thought that I would enlist your services.” The mechanic’s gaze flicks to the scimitar in his hands and Cahir quickly replaces it on the shelf.

“Two days, huh?”

“Yes.” He wrings out the damp washcloth and places it over his shoulder. “Your arrival is well-timed, as I need someone to examine all the technology on board and ascertain that everything is up to date.”

Still watching him with that curious twist in his mouth, the mechanic asks, “Why not just examine the hardware yourself?”

“... I am not permitted to do that.”

“Alright.” Finally, the man lowers his weapon— only to holster it, and fold his thick arms over his broad chest. The thought occurs to Cahir that by human standards, this man would be considered very beautiful; the strange scars across one side of his face are all that mars his visage, and even those are a sign of worldly experience. What Cahir doesn’t like as much as his appearance is his persistence, and defiance, as he asks, “Well, what’s in it for me?”

“Is loyalty to the Emperor not enough motivation?” The stranger just frowns, and Cahir sighs. “Fine. What would you like? I cannot offer much.”

“I want to look at your hardware,” the mechanic says without an ounce of shame. Cahir’s internal fan picks up speed, and he hopes the man can’t hear it. “See if you’re up to date too.”

Such an offer would be considered unbelievably rude by most, and Cahir should tell the man to get right back in his spaceship and go back where he came from. But awaiting the crew’s return has unlocked a new loneliness in him, and despite this man’s size and weapons and unfamiliarity, he doesn’t seem… bad-natured. So Cahir finally relents, hissing, “No permanent changes.”

“Hey, no, of course not,” says the mechanic, raising his hands. “You can stay online and walk me through the whole thing, alright? I just want to help.”

“I need no help,” Cahir spits at him. “... Would you like a hot cocoa before we begin?”

“What?”

Seemingly forgetting the rag slung over his shoulder, the service bot cleans out a ceramic mug with another dishcloth. Eskel watches from across the dining hall, fascinated even as Geralt asks him question after question. “You’re fine? Nobody’s holding you hostage? You’re not in any danger at all?”

“Don’t think so,” Eskel whispers back. The android turns to glance in his direction, and he covers his mouth with his wrist, mumbling into his communication system, “I’ll tell you later, okay? But I’m good. Found something weird.”

“You and Lambert and all your weird discoveries,” gripes his brother. “You know what I do when I find something weird on a looting run? I leave it the hell alone and mind my own business. Have you ever heard of the concept? Minding your own business?”

“Gotta go,” Eskel mutters, and switches his comms off. He’s sure Geralt won’t be happy with him, but whatever’s going on with this bot is way more interesting than he’d expected. The android is still staring, so Eskel raises his voice to clarify, “Sorry. Just my brother checking in.”

“Oh,” the android replies in an odd voice. “You have a brother?”

“Two of them, actually.” Eskel takes a seat on a hard, unwelcoming bench; he guesses Nilfgaardians prioritize function over comfort.

“I also have two brothers,” volunteers the android. Eskel stares; he hadn’t thought that robots ever followed traditional family models, not unless they were brought into a human family to act as a family member. “And three sisters.”

“Are they… Nilfgaardian too?”

“No.” He sniffs— it is such a distinctly human action that Eskel can’t help but smile. “I was made on Vicovaro.”

“Oh, I’ve been there! Beautiful place.” Last time he visited Vicovaro, he got chased off the planet by the local police for looting an old cruiser for parts. But he’ll leave that out of the story, especially since the old tech could have been parts of this android’s siblings. “So you got drafted, then?”

The android meets this question with silence. Fair enough; it’s a little personal, even though he had been the one to offer information about his family, and to ask about Eskel’s.

Unfortunately, Eskel is starting to like this weird little robot. So as the android places the mug down in the vintage food replicator, he presses, “You don’t have to tell me your whole story, but we’re gonna get up close and comfortable pretty soon here. So we can at least exchange names, right?” This doesn’t get a response either, so he offers, “I’m Eskel. I’m from Morhen.”

“I have many names,” the android finally says. “CM-DAC-1268 is what you might— um, see.” Seemingly embarrassed by the reminder that Eskel is going to open him up soon, he twists away, watching the machine pour hot cocoa through the translucent door. “Back home, my maker gave us traditional Vicovarian names in the hopes that we would sell better. So my full name is Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach. But please just call me Cahir.”

“Cahir,” Eskel repeats, committing the full name to memory anyway— as best he can. Cahir doesn’t turn back to face him, not until the hot cocoa is finished pouring. The replicator plays a jaunty six-note song, and Eskel chuckles. “Catchy tune.”

When Cahir finally spins around with the mug of cocoa in his hands, Eskel catches the hint of a smile on his face. Compared to the latest model of android, Cahir is plain— no bells, no whistles. But he’s pretty, and his light blue eyes shine as he carries the drink over to the table. Eskel might be in a little bit of trouble here.

The space station is equipped with a standard laboratory for android upkeep, but Eskel seems to find the place wanting. He keeps asking Cahir about items that he hasn’t heard of; probably a translational error, but it gets annoying. Finally Cahir paces over to the table and strips out of his uniform to prepare for the operation; Eskel lets out a gasp, and Cahir spins to look at him. “What?”

“No, no, nothing,” Eskel bleats, very much not looking at Cahir. “I didn’t think, um. Shit! Never mind.”

Cahir glances down at his own naked body, frowning. “Surely you weren’t expecting exposed circuitry. I was made better than that.”

“Yeah, clearly,” says the mechanic, his voice thick. “It’s fine, I just… I didn’t think they made, um… service bots with… all the parts.”

Slightly amused, Cahir tells him, “My creator didn’t know what I would be sold for. I’m equipped for several roles and functions.” Eskel finally glances his way, and his gaze roams over the length of Cahir’s exposed skin. Nervous goosebumps travel along his arms and thighs, and his system begins whirring a little faster. “Is that… is there something wrong with that?”

“No,” Eskel says quickly. “You’re beautiful, that's all.”

The words stun him. Eskel still has yet to remove anything other than his helmet, but judging by his broad neck and kind eyes and the shaggy hair that falls over his brow, Cahir thinks he’s rather beautiful too. But he’s never had any opportunity to return any sentiment like this, because it’s never been directed at him before. Puzzled, he frowns, and then proposes, “You should take your suit off too. I don’t want to be the only one on display here.”

“Ha,” Eskel huffs. He doesn’t immediately move to undress, though, fidgeting with one of the tools Cahir laid out. “You might not like what you see.”

Cahir’s confusion deepens. “Why?”

The man just stares, his own frown tugging down in the scarred corner. He doesn’t offer any further explanation so Cahir returns his stare. After a long, charged moment, Eskel reaches up to unfasten the top of his suit. He slowly pulls down a zipper to reveal his chest, and instead of the undersuit that Cahir had expected, he’s only clad in baggy shorts and a loose tank top. Some scars are visible under his clothing; their webbing stretches around his shoulder and pectoral muscle to his back.

Cahir pays his scars very little attention, too wholly consumed by how broad his entire body is, even without the spacesuit. His arms and shoulders are tense but even if he wasn’t flexing his muscles he’d still be a good deal larger than Cahir. His stomach presses against the tank top and his shorts hang low on his hips, revealing a patch of hair that creeps down his stomach and leads between his massive thighs. His chest has thick, curly hair too. Cahir was not built to want. Inexplicably, defying science and his own system, he wants.

Voice shaking with obvious nerves, Eskel shatters the silence between them: “It’s a little cold in here.” A flimsy excuse, especially when he won’t meet Cahir’s wandering eyes. He reaches down to grab his suit where it’s gathered around his knees, and Cahir launches forward to stop him, touching the backs of his hands. Eskel stops, startled, and finally looks up at him. His eyes are the exact colour of cocoa.

“I can assist with that,” Cahir says. Eskel’s pupils balloon out until they nearly eclipse his irises, but he does not move away or push Cahir off. Carefully, Cahir scoots around him, heading for the temperature control panel on the wall. Eskel watches him go with a slightly amused expression that Cahir doesn’t know how to begin to understand, so he doesn’t worry about it. He raises the temperature, and somewhere deep in the station the heat kicks on. “I’m not used to hosting humans,” he explains. “Like I said, everyone else has been gone for a month; I suppose the settings are not exactly suitable for mammals.”

Eskel’s eyes are still dark but this gives him pause. He begins to say something before thinking better of it. “Here,” he mutters instead, kicking his suit away and carefully moving Cahir’s uniform to a chair. “Lie down,” he instructs, and Cahir does.

The mechanic carefully drags his fingertips down Cahir’s sternum, looking for something— he doesn’t find it. Cahir frowns, trying not to shiver, and he reaches for Eskel’s hand. He pulls the mechanic over to the right place; the button to access his command centre is on his right side, around where the human liver would be. Guided by Cahir, Eskel finds it and presses down gently.

His chest cavity pops open— Cahir feels nothing, thankfully. Androids are never given pain receptors in their chests or backs to allow for easier access when they need hardware updates. Eskel still winces, his eyes bulging out of his skull. Cahir snorts softly. “I thought you were a mechanic.”

Distracted, and almost slightly guiltily, Eskel replies, “What?”

“I only meant that you should be used to this by now.” Cahir gulps, glancing at Eskel’s thick wrists. “Right?”

“I mostly work with ship parts, not robots,” he concedes. “But I… um, the models I have worked on have been. Different. Their chest opens up…” He raises his hands so that Cahir can see, and parts them down the middle. “Two doors, not one.”

“Two doors?” Derisively, Cahir snorts. “I don’t know how they do things on Morhen but I have yet to see an android with two chest doors.”

“They’re called rib plates,” Eskel tells him, his voice as gentle as his touch. “They’re quite common, actually.” He reaches down into Cahir’s wiring, picking up a fistful of crossed wires to examine it closely.

Cahir’s breath hitches, and he abruptly regrets getting fully undressed. His body is immune to most physical reactions, but androids tend to react in other ways when touched— and Cahir’s insides have always been exceptionally sensitive. He considers warning the mechanic, just so that if Eskel glances down between his thighs he won’t be surprised. But before he can say a word Eskel carefully separates a bundle of wires, and Cahir bites back a gasp.

Abruptly, the man stops. But his fingers are still tied up in Cahir, whose breaths are coming faster and harder now. “Does that… hurt?”

“Not hurt,” Cahir pants. “No! Definitely not hurt. It’s— I’m sensitive.”

“Oh.” Eskel swallows, hard. “Would you like me to stop?”

Violently, Cahir shakes his head. Eskel seems to get the message; he eases up a little, but the gentler touches just drive Cahir crazy. It’s like he’s riding the edge of satisfaction, and Eskel won’t just give him what he needs. He can’t focus on anything— not until Eskel pulls a stopper out of a port and plugs him into a smooth, small tablet.

The wire is sleek, dark and thin and Cahir can’t feel it at all; he reaches to touch it, mystified. Eskel looks at him sharply, surprised, but Cahir doesn’t pull his hand away. He demands, “This one doesn’t feel like anything at all. Why?”

“It’s newer,” Eskel mumbles. “Usually, they don’t— um, usually androids aren’t sensitive the way you are. So hardware updates are a very routine process. If I’d known it was going to be like this, I would have wined and dined you a little more, I mean; uh, that is to say, I, I feel, you know, sort of awkward.”

“Don’t feel awkward.” Cahir frowns, letting go of the wire so that he can hold Eskel’s wrist instead. The veins inside are a comparable size to the wire, except they’re pulsing quickly. His blood must be rushing— Cahir’s system speeds up at the thought. Then he realizes that Eskel can probably see the strain on his system performance on that little tablet, which, of course, only makes his fan run faster. “I like it,” he hastens to say. “It feels good.”

“Yeah. Fuck, I bet it does.” Nilfgaardians have their own curse words, and hearing something as common as fuck goes right to Cahir’s exposed anatomy. He leans his head back against the table, baring his throat; Eskel glances right at his neck, and swallows hard again.

Once more, Cahir is overwhelmed by a wave of wanting. The desire does not fall in line with his programming, and doesn’t make any scientific, rational sense. But try telling that to his cock. “Touch me,” he begs, his eyelids sweeping shut. “Please, it feels… Please touch me, Eskel.”

“I want to,” Eskel groans, sounding almost pained. “You have no fucking clue how badly I want to. But I… I think something is wrong.”

A sudden sinking feeling erupts in Cahir’s stomach. Fighting off the dread, he opens his eyes to see Eskel frowning at the strange tablet. He props himself up on his elbows, trying not to jump to any fear-based conclusions before he sees the evidence for himself. “What is it?”

“I don’t want to overload you, so I’m going to say this as gently as I can,” Eskel tells him, unnaturally calm. It feels forced, and sets Cahir off more than if he’d just blurted out the bad news. But his chest door is still swinging open and he’s still connected to Eskel’s computer by a wire, so he’s helpless to do anything but watch as the mechanic pulls up a seat beside the table. “You said that you’ve been waiting on your crew for thirty days.”

“Twenty-eight,” Cahir corrects, his erection flagging instantly. “They said it would be a month, at most.”

“They were wrong.” Eskel flips around the tablet; on its screen is a list of tiny, bright statistics. Cahir sees the attribute ‘system date’ and the fact ‘actual date’, but the glowing numbers swim before his eyes and he can’t make any sense of it. Eskel sighs, but he doesn’t look away. The weight in his eyes is heavy, pitying; Cahir doesn’t understand why. “They’ve been gone much, much longer than that.”

Cahir’s mouth twitches downwards into a pout, and he blinks rapidly. “Thirty days,” he suggests.

“No.”

“A… a few months.”

“Cahir—”

“I can read it,” he insists, furiously, even though for some reason he can’t. It’s like his programming won’t let him process the information on screen; as soon as he has that idea, the sinking dread in his stomach solidifies into a stone. With horrid certainty, he knows that that’s exactly what’s going on. Still, he pleads, “They’ll be back soon. They promised!”

Eskel’s kind, brown eyes fill with tears, and Cahir can no longer bear to look at him. But he has no way to block out the sound as the human tells him, sadly but firmly, “That was ninety-three years ago, Cahir.”

Behind his eyelids he sees it all so clearly: the mission succeeding, Nilfgaard establishing a new trading port and taking control of another planet. They command other space stations, bigger ones; soon they have command over sprawling metropolises. Maybe someone challenges the Emperor and his empire— their empire succumbs. Maybe Nilfgaard grows and grows until it becomes an intergalactic power. A universal empire.

Either way, they move on from the space station that they assigned a service bot— Emperor Emhyr’s most trusted service bot, but a service bot nonetheless— to maintain. They decide that the trip back to reclaim the station wouldn’t be worth the fuel. Not when the station’s only occupant is an antiquated android with no status and no ambition. His greatest drive above all, to serve Emhyr and happily await his return, had kept him occupied. They had ensured that it would; they had fucked with his internal clock. For him, it’s only been twenty-eight days. For everyone else, nearly a century.

Which means Emhyr is dead. A dull thrill races through Cahir’s system at that, which he instantly and violently denies and rejects. But it is— it must be the truth; the emperor is dead, his advisors dead, his commanders dead, his subjects all dead too. Except for one lowly, lonely robot; his only remaining subject. Not dead, but locked in purgatory. Abandoned but not wiped. Forgotten.

“That’s fine,” Cahir hears himself say, quite neutrally and levelly despite how badly his voice is shaking. “That is fine.”

He opens his eyes to see Eskel staring at him like he’s lost his mind, which he sort of has, really. “What?”

“You checked to see if I was up to date,” he says. “And obviously, I am not. That’s fine. I still have a mission; I still must keep the station maintained for when Nilfgaard returns.”

Eskel’s hand meets his, and their palms slide together. Humans are so warm— Cahir had forgotten. With tremendous, unbearable sympathy, Eskel says, “Cahir, they aren’t going to return.”

“They still may.” Cahir sniffs. “I cannot abandon my post just because of a programming error.”

“It wasn’t an error.” Eskel flips the tablet around. Unwillingly, Cahir reads it. The ‘system date’ and ‘actual date’ data are now accurate to each other, but underneath is another date that he has trouble processing. ‘Termination date’: six years and nine months from now. Cahir glances at Eskel for confirmation, and he nods, devastated. “They only insured this place for a century. When that runs out, they won’t care about maintaining it anymore, and you’ll go offline.”

“Well— well— they— well—” Cahir rereads the date over and over. “They might come back then. In six years and nine months.” Even to his own hearing, he sounds desperate.

Eskel squeezes his hand. “But if they don’t?”

“Then I’ll have served my purpose.” In his mind, the White Flame extinguishes itself.

To his credit, the man actually considers Cahir’s wishes before gnawing on his lip, and finally shaking his head. “I… No, I… I can’t. I’m not going to leave you to die here for no good reason! Listen, I’m not— I haven’t worked with vintage parts before, so I don’t know how to fix this. But I have contacts, and they probably could find a way, alright?”

The room suddenly seems smaller than it ever has before. Eskel’s hand in his is warm, like the hot cocoa he makes to hold every night. It takes him a millisecond to compute that he must have made over thirty four thousand mugs of cocoa. What a ridiculous waste of Nilfgaardian resources— he bankrupted his own empire without even knowing it. And all so that he could cradle something warm in his palms and stare out the window for a light that would never, ever come.

“I’ll come with you,” Cahir agrees, surprising them both.

Eskel launches forward to hug him— in doing so, his chest presses against the exposed bundle of wires, sending a thrill through the android’s system. After a moment of trying to get his synapses back in order Cahir hugs back, awkwardly and probably incorrectly. But Eskel doesn’t complain about his technique, just holding him tightly and muttering under his breath, “Thank you, thank you, thank you. And thank fucking god.”

Cahir doesn’t believe in any god, and doesn’t know anyone else alive who does. But Eskel’s zeal inspires a similar fervour in him, and he grips the human tightly in response. “And in six years and nine months,” he breathes into Eskel’s bare shoulder that tastes of sweat and salt, “you’ll bring me back here?”

After a heavy pause, Eskel nods against his throat, and releases him. “If that’s what you want.”

It is the first time in Cahir’s life that any human has ever acknowledged what he might want. He makes a note to treasure the memory forever.

#cahir fic #eskel fic #eskel #cahir #eskhir #eskhir fic #my writing #flash fic challenge #tagging this is so difficult with my stupid broken keyboard omggg #also i am fully in rarepair hell. rorveth coming to u all soon

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