#i will burst into tears if they don't let me

[peppermintquartz]

Buck/Tommy prompt: Tommy finally realizing he *does* have a family with the 118

It's a Thursday afternoon when he dies.

He's not even on shift, that's the thing; he was in the gym training with a friend, and the next thing he knows five masked figures burst in, shouting at everyone to get down to the ground, and he's shielding Jacob when one of them fires a spray in their direction.

The bullets don't land anywhere fatal so he doesn't die immediately, but that means it hurts like a bitch, and he can feel his extremities growing cold. He sees the five gunmen race out the other door. Jacob is panicking, pressing his gym towel on the stomach wound but not exerting enough strength to hold back the blood loss; Lizzie is screaming at someone to hurry; Tommy thinks, Fuck, on the day I beat my personal best too.

His vision is darkening around the edges. Breathing is difficult. Maybe a punctured lung from shrapnel, who knows?

The coroner will, his brain supplies, a joker to the very end.

He hears sirens. Vaguely, he wonders if who's going to tell Evan.

Sorry, baby. Didn't mean to make you cry. Tommy lets go of the vestiges of the breath he's been struggling to hold onto.

"Tommy?" He knows the voice. Wow, God really has a shitty sense of humor. "Tommy!"

At least that's the last thing he'll hear before he dies. Tommy tastes blood in his mouth, and everything stops.

Death, it turns out, is a welcoming silence.

--

He wakes up in fits and starts.

When he is finally, mostly conscious, he feels someone holding his right hand. And there are two people talking.

"...I think he's back with us again," one of the voices say. "Mr Kinard?"

Call me Tommy. Mr Kinard is my asshole dad.

"Tommy?"

Now Tommy smiles. That's the right name. He blinks, each eyelid approximately seven thousand tons. Dimmed lights, two shadowy figures, one in a white coat and the other in navy.

"Guess... G'd dint like... my crack 'bout. Sense of humor."

"What the fuck," says Navy. He scoots closer and Tommy can see his face clearly. Boyishly handsome, with light brown curly hair, a birthmark. Red-rimmed eyes. "Tommy. Tommy, god."

"Hey." He can't remember Navy's name. "Dry."

White Coat hands over a small cup. Navy puts an ice chip on Tommy's lips, and Tommy draws it into his mouth for the relief.

Evan. Not Navy. Evan.

White Coat comes close, and Tommy wants to protest. He wants to hold Evan's hand and kiss his sad little pout away.

"You can do that later when you're better," said White Coat. He shines a light into Tommy's eyes - ow - and taps him in various places, and then it's just Tommy and Evan again.

Evan stands and leans down to kiss Tommy's brow. "Go to sleep. I'll let everyone know you pulled through."

Tommy wants to ask, but sleep pulls him under.

--

They come to visit, singly or in pairs.

"Glad you're still breathing," Eddie says. He sits on the side of the bed. "Chris says that if you die, he'll hit you with his crutches. And they hurt, let me tell you that."

Hen and Karen visit with their kids that same day. Denny asks if Tommy can teach him and Mara to draw. "I liked yours the most of all the art on my cast."

Bobby comes by, scowls at the bland food, and says, "I'm glad you're still with us, kid." Tommy tears up, and allows himself to cry silently. Bobby only holds his hand and pats the back of it.

Donato and Melton come by with a bunch of balloons, all chosen for maximum obnoxiousness. The bright pink and yellow one that proclaims "It's a GIRL!" is Tommy's favorite.

He gives that balloon to Chimney when he comes by, telling him to give it to Jee. Chimney punches the side of Tommy's leg. "Count your lucky stars it isn't Maddie here. They'd never even find your body."

--

Maddie shows up with Evan the day after to take Tommy home to recover from his three bullet wounds.

"Three shots and you only get three days?" Evan is outraged.

"Flesh wounds except for the one through my lower left abdomen," Tommy reminds him, already tired. "Plus, I signed myself out." Then, taking a nervous breath, he says, "Hi Maddie."

Maddie glares at him. "You're lucky I wasn't the one holding the gun."

Tommy winces, ducks his head. "I'm sorry."

Evan rolls his eyes. "Standing right here, Maddie."

"I warned him about breaking your heart," she says grumpily, but she takes the duffel bag of Tommy's stuff.

Tommy leans back in his wheelchair as Evan rolls him out towards freedom. "How much groveling to make to earn your sister's forgiveness?"

"See how long you'll grovel for mine, and multiply that by ten."

"Oh shit."

"...that'd be about half a hour, I guess."

"For you or for her?"

Evan wrinkles his nose at him, but his smile is still sunshine. His hand lands on Tommy's shoulder and squeezes. "You and I need a good talk. And this time, you can't run."

Tommy dares to touch Evan's hand. "Okay."

[ratatoilett]

"what the hell is wrong with you-"

maybe in another universe you won't be having this conversation with him. maybe in another universe satoru would just tease you and make smartass comments about how you're so pouty after he ate that one last slice of cake you saved up just to savor the taste. maybe this will all just be an ordinary day but this wasn't that universe.

no this was now.

he stopped his tracks, dragging his hands through his snow-white hair, his face unreadable. "you knew i had to make this choice right? all those plans, those chances, those what ifs-"

your nostrils flared, "and you didn't stop for a second to think about how i would feel about any of this?"

the silence that followed was deafening. he just stood there, staring, the weight of his words pressing down on this godforsaken room like an iron shroud. finally, he broke it, his voice a whisper, trembling at the edges, "this is the only—this is the only way i could see you having a good life."

bewildered was even the word. you barked out a laugh—sharp, bitter, more like a scoff—"a good life? and you can't be in it? so you've decided to make—this twisted, fucked up version of reality—where i could have a 'good life' without you in it?".

your pacing grew erratic as you fought the tears that stung your eyes, biting them back with all your strength. "tell me, did you planned this all along satoru? from the very beginning—"

he closed his eyes, a pained grimace crossing his face. "yes."

and that one word shattered something in you.

"so you think by giving up your body —letting them use you like some goddamn ragdoll to beat sukuna— is a bright idea? and then what? you just—what—throw yourself away like trash?"

you stopped pacing, your breaths coming out in uneven bursts. the plan you overheard, not from his lips, no. the moment you'd learned about it, something inside you had snapped, every nerve in your body screaming in protest.

satoru swallowed hard, stepping toward you cautiously, as though afraid you might vanish if he got too close. his hands cupped your face, warm but trembling, like he was holding on to something slipping through his fingers. "do you remember?" his voice cracked, low and rough. "do you remember what i told you? before all of this— the curse, the missions, all this shit—how i always said—"

you choked on your own tears, already knowing the answer. "that you'd come home soon."

he nodded, his forehead brushing against yours as his own tears began to spill. "and i always meant it."

your hands gripped his wrists tightly, desperate, like holding on to him could somehow change this, change everything. "don't. don't say it. i don't want to hear it."

he pressed a kiss to your hair, pulling you into his arms, holding you so close it felt like he was trying to merge your souls. his face buried in your neck, and you could feel his tears hot against your skin. he was trembling—this unshakable man, this immovable force, was breaking apart in your arms.

and it was funny, in the most tragic way imaginable, how the two of you were crumbling together. one fighting so desperately to keep the other from slipping away, and the other fighting to let go.

his voice came again, breaking the silence like a cracked whisper. "i need you to promise me something. promise me you'll be ok."

you shook your head violently, the words tumbling out of you like a broken glass. "no. no, i can't—don't ask me that satoru, don't—"

his hands framed your face again, his eyes searching yours with desperation that cut deeper that any curse ever could. "promise me," he said, his voice stronger now, even as his own tears refused to stop. "promise me you'll be strong, promise me you'll never forget me. that you'll think of me, even just from time to time. promise me you'll remember how much i love you, how grateful i am of you. and promise me—"

his voice cracked, and the rest came out in a rush. "promise me you'll remember that i didn't want to go."

your grip on him weakened, and something in his eyes changed. he knew. he knew.

he planted one last kiss on your forehead, lingering as though trying to pour everything he couldn't say into that single moment. then he stepped back, his hands falling away like leaves in the wind.

and just like that, he let go.

[himasgod]

Kinich x Reader and Wriothesley x Reader

Where reader struggles with social anxiety

(I loved making this request! As always, not too specific, to suit the reader's taste. If you have social anxiety, remember to be cautious and find your safe place, don't force yourself on others! I hope you enjoy it <3)

Wriothesley

A celebration at Fontaine Court turns into a nightmare for you, but Wriothesley is there to guide you back to calm.

The lights were too bright. The music was too loud. The constant hum of conversations around you filtered through your mind like an endless hum, making you feel like your ears were going to burst. The room was packed with elegant people chatting easily, but for you, being here was like trying to breathe underwater.

You had tried to stay close to your boyfriend, Wriothesley, seeking his reassuring presence in the crowd, but even he was busy talking to some of the court officials. You had moved away so as not to be a burden, trying to blend into the shadows, but the feeling of all eyes on you was suffocating you.

Your breathing became labored. The lump in your throat grew, and your hands began to shake. The heat of the room became unbearable, and the pressure on your chest kept you from breathing.

You needed to get out of there.

Without waiting another second, you slipped through a side door and found yourself in an empty hallway. The cool air hit your face, but you still couldn’t control your breathing. You leaned against the wall, trying to stop the world from spinning, fighting not to fall apart.

It was then that you heard familiar footsteps approaching.

“My love?” Wriothesley’s deep voice cut through the fog in your mind like an anchor. You didn’t look up right away, embarrassed that he saw you like this, so vulnerable. But he didn’t need you to answer; it was enough for him to see the trembling of your hands and the gleam of your panicked eyes.

Without saying anything, he calmly approached you. His presence was like a protective blanket, covering you from the storm raging inside you. Slowly, he reached out a hand towards you, but he didn’t touch you right away. He knew that in these moments, contact could be overwhelming, so he waited for you to be the one to make the first move.

“I’m here,” he murmured quietly, his tone firm and calm. “Breathe with me.”

It took you a moment, but you finally took his hand. His fingers were warm, his grip firm but not tight. At the contact, something inside you broke and you let out a choked sob, your tears rolling uncontrollably.

“That’s it, keep breathing, my love” he said softly. His words weren’t rushed or forced; he was willing to stay there as long as it took.

Slowly, your breathing began to sync with his. The pressure in your chest lessened, and the lump in your throat unraveled. You didn’t realize how much time had passed until you finally looked up at him. Wriothesley was watching you with those dark blue eyes filled with endless patience, not a trace of judgment in his expression.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” he said before you could apologize. “You don’t have to apologize for feeling that way.”

He wrapped you in a warm hug, his arms around you with the security of a refuge you knew you could always return to. “If you feel overwhelmed again, just let me know,” he whispered close to your ear. “You don’t have to face it alone.”

Gratefully, you clung to him as if he were your only salvation. For a moment, everything else faded away, and the world narrowed to the steady beat of his heart, the sound of his even breathing, and the comforting warmth of his embrace.

You didn’t know how long you spent there, but when you finally pulled away, your hands were no longer shaking, and you could breathe normally.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked, his tone denoting more affection than concern.

“Yes... thank you,” you replied in a whisper. A small but genuine smile appeared on your face, something he met with a satisfied look.

“Let’s go home,” he suggested, caressing your cheek gently with the back of his hand. “You don’t need to linger in places that hurt you.”

You took his hand once more, and this time there was no hesitation.

Because with him, you knew you would always have a safe haven to return to.

Kinich

A crowded Natlan market becomes a challenge for you. Kinich, with his gruff but honest style, helps you calm down.

The sun was blazing down on Natlan's bustling marketplace, where voices rose in ceaseless chaos. The air was filled with the scent of spices and roasted meat, and at every step you were hit by a sea of ​​bodies moving around incessantly. The laughter, the conversation, the shouts of merchants calling for the attention of buyers… it all mixed together in a deafening hum that made your heart beat faster than you could bear.

You had thought you could handle it, that you could accompany your boyfriend Kinich without problems while he gathered supplies for his next commision. But the crowd began to close in around you, and you felt panic seep through your veins, stealing your air little by little. Your hands shook, your legs felt like jelly, and the urge to escape overwhelmed you.

Kinich, who was haggling with a merchant for materials, immediately noticed the change in you. His sharp gaze turned to you, seeing how your eyes were wide, fear reflected in them. He knew what that expression meant; he had seen it before, even if you tried to hide it.

“Mh...” he muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing. Without a second thought, he turned to the merchant and tossed a handful of coins in his direction, leaving the materials uncollected.

He didn’t care at all that he had lost the bargain, not when you were on the verge of a panic attack.

He pushed through the crowd until he reached your side, his brow furrowed and his eyes filled with concern disguised as impatience. “Hey, look at me,” he ordered in his deep, but not aggressive voice. His calloused hand caught yours, squeezing it firmly, anchoring you to reality.

You couldn’t find your voice, but you felt the comforting pressure of his hand. Kinich leaned towards you, making a barrier between you and the crowd that continued to move around him as if nothing was happening. “Come on, breathe,” he told you, more gently this time. “Breathe in. Breathe out. It’s not the damn end of the world.”

His words were abrupt, but that didn’t make them any less effective. You knew his style: direct, blunt, but filled with a sincerity that made you feel safe. Focusing on his voice and the warmth radiating from his body, you managed to take a deep breath, though you still felt the lump in your chest.

“That’s it,” Kinich murmured as he saw you starting to regain control. His fingers, though rough, traced a small circle on the back of your hand. It was a gesture he probably didn’t realize he was doing, but it always managed to calm you down.

Seeing your breathing stabilize a little more, Kinich guided you out of the market without another word, keeping you close. He led you down a less-traveled alley and finally stopped in a secluded corner, where the noise was more distant. He let go of your hand just so he could turn you to him, his golden and green eyes staring intently at you.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling this way?” he asked, his tone still somewhat annoyed, but you knew it was more concern than anything else.

“I didn’t want to bother you… you were busy and…” your words died in your throat as you saw his expression harden.

“Bother me?” he let out a short, incredulous laugh. “You’re more important than a bunch of screaming merchants and their damn arrows. Understood?”

You fell silent, feeling a little foolish for having worried so much about something that, in his eyes, was so simple. But that was what you appreciated most about Kinich. To him, there was no need to complicate things; if you felt bad, he would be there, period. No judgment, no unnecessary questions.

With a sigh, Kinich softened his expression and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. The scent of leather and wood that always accompanied him enveloped you, and for the first time all day, you felt like you could truly breathe.

“You’re doing well,” he murmured next to your ear, his voice softer than ever. “But next time… if you feel that way, tell me. You don’t have to face it alone.”

And there, in his arms you allowed yourself to accept his support without reservation.

Because even though Kinich wasn’t the most delicate with his words, he always knew exactly how to make you feel safe in the midst of chaos.

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request <3

[ssxpm]

the sun was setting, the orange and pink hues shining into your eyes as you basked in ryomen sukuna's presence.

ever since you had been sold to him, bound to his estate, you had formed a decent relationship with him. you were a concubine, his favourite concubine no doubt.

over the months, you had found the king of curses to be a nice soul to be around, despite his constant out bursts and spiteful temper. he always seen to do everything with you, so it seemed he had enjoyed your presence too.

he wasn't a good person, you knew that. however, you were drawn to him.

"kuna?" you prod at his broad bicep, his lower set of eyes open to see what you wanted.

"mm..?" he groans. he shouldn't let anyone call him kuna, but it rolled off your tongue so prettily he just couldn't resist.

"the sunset is beautiful, isn't it?" a soft breeze blows his hair lightly, and you brush it out of his eyes. he flinches; which is something he tends to do when you touch him, god knows why.

"mm."

...

"kuna?" you prod, once again.

"what, woman?" he says in a sharper tone. you was interrupting his rest.

"i.." there was a long pause. a pause to long that even sukuna opens both sets of eyes to look at you, concern itched into his furrowed brows.

"spit it out."

you just sit there, staring at him deeply.

he was so beautiful, the sun shone and illuminated his hair perfectly. everything about him that was supposed to be frightful and threatening, you found eye-catching and handsome. even his two sets of arms and eyes, the tattoos and marks that littered his body were all so beautiful.

"i love you."

sukuna tensed up immediately, keeping the eye contact you both had but his eyes were now filled with something you couldn't put a pin on.

when the seconds went past with no response, your heart sank in your stomach.

one.. two..

still no response.

all of a sudden, sukuna got to his feet, looking down at you. your heart had never pounded so hard in your life, regret evident in your face.

"no you don't."

"kuna i-"

"no. woman, i am the king of curses, you are just one of my many concubines. your glad your not dead by now with the amount of times you have disrespected me recently. i let you get away with as much as murder." he pauses, again. "do not think you are any more than that. gosh, all that sex must have gotten to your head, hm?"

your eyes widen, tears threatening to fill your eyes.

"go back to your chambers, i don't wish to see you no longer." and with that, he strides away, his aura different to how it usually is. had your words affected him that much?

tears ran down your face, one by one dropping down onto your kimono.

of course.

those words simply don't exist is ryomen sukuna's world, and they never will.

you are just a mere concubine, a servant at that. he had never truly cared for you, you was only a pawn in his long, twisted fantasy. ryomen sukuna didn't love, so why did you have love him?

this isn't proof-read, no warning neither except for in the tags. ik this is shit but i hardly write but ive had this idea for a while. part two with a happy ending, or part two with a sad ending????

[zarnzarn]

"Penelope," Odysseus whispers, heartbroken. She cannot stop crying enough to see him, and it makes her cry harder, even as the familiar scent of him moves closer and is followed by his arms around her, holding her up as she falls to pieces.

"I couldn't- I couldn't find-" She gasps for air, desperately hoping no one is around. Grief comes slamming into her like a tidal wave, laying her low with unrelenting memories of the injustice of wanting her husband home the most of anyone in the war and being the only to not get her wish and fear for how her reign would end and all the other feelings she should have gotten over already. "I couldn't find you," she sobs out finally, the words shaking out of her as her shoulders heave.

"Easy, my love, breathe," Odysseus coaxes, picking her up like it was nothing, tilting her at an angle that must be straining his shoulders to let her cling to him tighter. Cry, like it's the first time she realised how her wait had outlasted their marriage, where cannot breathe in for how hard she weeps, lungs burning. "Peace. I'm here, my darling, see, would a shade be able to do this?"

A choked, teary laugh is forced out of her as he spins on his heel suddenly, stopping her sobs with the momentum, leaving her gasping for breath and sniffing, shaking like a beaten dog, out in the rain. Alone and pawing at the memories of a warm hearth, with a pack's responsibilities on her shoulders and nowhere to set it down.

"See, now, there you go, drifting away again," Odysseus chides, twirling them both around once more, fast enough to make her half-squeal. "Am I so boring to you, compared to the mamba's nest of statespeople you have toyed with these long years? Must I put on a silly costume and dance around as entertainment, my dearest, tell you jokes and riddles to keep your attention? You wound me if you say yes, for I will lose the little respect our son still has for me."

She laughs wetly again at his chatter, the tempest in her head fading enough for the sobs to go from wailing to crying.

"Penelope," Odysseus sings her name in that strange way that sounds oddly like an owl's call, that no one can replicate. The chains around his feet jangle, a familiar sound she has trained herself into associating with her husband. She blinks the tears from her eyes, calming a little at the sound so she can see him. He clicks his tongue and wipes her tears away by rubbing their cheeks together, making her burst into choked giggles.

They don't last long, and she returns back to gasping for air as she runs out of energy, trembling.

Odysseus sighs, bittersweet, as he gives up on trying to make her laugh. Penelope sniffs, clinging on tight when she's suddenly lowered into soft sheets. "I'm here," He whispers, stroking her hair, letting her dig her nails in. "Oh, my poor beautiful wife. I'm back now. I would not leave for anything."

"I couldn't find you," Penelope whispers, small and scared. "I was calling for you from the door and there was no answer. I couldn't hear the chains. And no one knew where you were."

"All those who knew were with me, which won't happen again. I was only out at the merchants to see the new cloth with Tele," Odysseus murmurs. "Darling-"

"I cannot let go of the fear," She confesses in a rush. Closes her eyes and rocks them back and forth, trying to bury her face into Odysseus' shoulder and disappear into him. "Don't know how to convince myself that you are not an illusion. How to stop missing you, even when you are right in front of me. That I will wake up and still have to do it all alone."

Odysseus pulls back and stares at her, devastated, tears in his eyes. He opens his mouth and shuts it, helplessly. "Sweetest of my heart," he says finally, and lowers himself down on top of her so she can feel the full weight of him, smell his sweat and the ointment he applies on his scars and the juices of the fruit he fed her that morning by hand.

(Telemachus had sighed the sigh of the long-suffering when he took his seat next to them that morning for breakfast. "Must you?"

"Must we what?" Penelope had teased, and then opened her mouth for another fruit from her husband's hand, who was hiding a laugh in her hair, perched on her lap, his chair knocked to the side and lying sadly on the floor.

Telemachus shook his head, mock-disappointed and sighed louder.

"Come," Odysseus had said, patting his own lap. "Here, Tele, I will feed you too. Come."

"I'm not a dog," Telemachus had complained, over Penelope's sudden protests about not agreeing to this- and then came over and jumped up into Odysseus' grasp anyway, making Penelope yell at the sudden weight and her two rascals cackle at her.)

"Odysseus," She whispers as she exhausts of her crying and interspersing sobs an hour later, letting it curl on her tongue. She had stopped saying it, when the looks around her transformed from sympathy to concern over her sanity, and it became a political decision to not say her husband's name until he returned.

"Penelope," He returns, tightening his arms around her until her ribs creak. She sometimes wishes he were a violent man, that war had changed him enough to be rough with her, so she would have bruises to carry around to remind her he was there with her. But if he was, would she love him still?

"Give me something," She begs. She feels incredibly small and stupid, shaking like a child, and it is the only the fact that her real husband wouldn't falter or recoil in the face of her weaknesses and breakdowns that keeps her talking. "Something to prove you're here, please, please, husband-"

"Peace, Penelope," Odysseus says, in a voice sterner than he's ever used with her; the one he uses in court, making her stomach swoop. He moves back when he feels her tense under her, and studies her expression with a sharp eye. She loves him more than anything, would gladly slit open her torso to give him her innards if he so much as implied a passing fancy to having them, but even that isn't enough to fend off the slight bloom of mortification when realisation flashes across his eyes.

He kisses her, harder than usual, and she tries to focus on it rather than her still-racing thoughts.

"You are no longer Queen of Ithaka," Odysseus says, low and final, and the horrifying shock of the sentence nearly makes her moan. "Not in this room. You have held the burden of the kingdom for fifteen long years, and now you will let me make you put it down."

"No," Penelope protests, between kisses. She is still coming down from the fear planted in her by all the strong women that buoyed her these years, who grimly predicted that her husband would snatch the throne back as soon as he returned, coupled with the guilty relief that she no longer had to be in charge, no matter that it was by force. "I love her. My Ithaka. Rough and beautiful."

Odysseus huffs, smiling against her skin. "She loves you too. Which is why you must listen to her beckoning for you to rest." He punctuates his sentence by pressing down on her stomach, entire body weight on his hands as he drags his palms up her abdomen, between her breasts, up to her shoulders. "Relax, Penny. The kingdom wants for nothing, food is overabundant, no one fights, no ruler gives us trouble. You do not have to hold everything together on your own anymore."

Penelope snorts. "Ithaka says so, does she?"

"Am I not Ithaka?" Odysseus says, voice twisting and changing until it sounds like a woman speaking. Penelope is hit sideways by lust, stomach flipping at the smirk sent her way. It gets wider at her expression, as he leans down and croons, "Penelope."

"Oh, gods," Penelope says, strangled, bracing herself on his shoulders.

"Give you something," Odysseus muses, in that same voice, that lights on fire the part of her that used to be obsessed with the stable master's daughter. "How about..."

He picks up her hand and kisses her wrist gently, tenderly, like it is the most delicate of pottery, the most precious of gems. He rubs a hand over her veins once lovingly, then fits his teeth around them, eyes flashing with heat as he glances over her.

Her heart skips a beat. She nods. He bites down with canines sharper than he'd left with and she screams.

"Oh," She gasps when it's done, looking at the bleeding wound lovingly marked around her pulsepoint. Her husband tips her chin up and she smiles finally, stretching up to meet his bloody kiss. "Oh, more. More, Ody."

"As my wife desires," He murmurs, possessiveness catching fire in his eyes as he turns to set his teeth to his neck- still not violent, but perhaps the slightest bit loosened from the leash.

Penelope moans, vision hazy as her head rolls, staring up at the ceiling. She takes a deep breath, then another, letting the panic recede in the face of a daydream of wandering around with a necklace of bruises every day, until they grow old.

He always knows how to handle her so well. She had begun to think she'd imagined it, how well the man she married had met her at every turn, every trick. Yet only a few months in his return and still he guides her expertly from all the bad things in life like a sheepdog, like an overanxious newlywed; some days making her so happy that the fifteen years past had never happened.

"You will look at these and remember no one else could leave them but me," Odysseus orders, the sneer of the rabid slaughterer in his gaze. It makes all the tension seep out of her, tears escaping in relief as she nods. "And I won't go out of earshot ever again, so you always can hear how you've chained your poor husband down like a mule, forever to trip over his own feet and smash into the floor."

"Chained you like a bird," Penelope corrects, her smug, thrilled smile returning at the reminder, reaching down to shorten the chain. "No more flying for you."

"None," He agrees.

Her smile wavers as the tail end of her grief comes sliding back. "Hold me?"

"Forever and ever and ever," He promises, wrapping his hands around her. She shakes in his hold. He kisses the side of her head, holding his wrist still scarred with her own teethmarks up to her lips in offering. Her eyes roll back as the familiar blood rolls over her tongue, calming the storm in her chest at last. He pulls his hand back and cards it through her hair, pulling out all the ornaments that mark her as Queen, staining them with blood. "I promise. Calm, Penelope."

"I'm calm," She sniffs wetly. "I wouldn't do it for anyone but you."

"Neither would I," Odysseus replies. "Would you like to have sex? I can please you with my mouth if you want."

Penelope snorts ungracefully at the formal way he still says it, like it's an offer to go fetch something from the kitchens. "No. Just hold me."

Odysseus murmurs something in response and starts humming, rocking then back and forth. Blood on both their mouths still.

"Actually-" Penelope says abruptly, and Odysseus bursts into laughter like she knew he would. She smiles at the sound, and closes her eyes to bathe in it, and carefully brings herself to take the first step to trusting that he will still be there when she opens them.

[runningracingdancingchasing]

They hadn't a moment to lose. The horse -- his name turned out to be Maximus, according to his tack -- didn't even hesitate to allow her to mount. Rapunzel had never ridden a horse before, but either it was very easy, or this horse knew how to treat a new rider.

They raced together, Rapunzel on Maximus, Pascal on Rapunzel, and the crow soaring overhead, back to the kingdom, the magnificent gown billowing behind her as the horse's hooves pounded through the trees so quickly it made her eyes water. Horseshoes threw sparks as he tore across the bridge just before dawn, paying no heed to the citizens who jumped out of his way as he galloped up the hill to the palace at the top.

"No, no, he's being executed right now! I have to stop it!" Rapunzel begged.

But this strange horse was insistent, and carried her not to the prison or the courtyard where Audwin's life hung in the balance, but directly into the throne room where a woman -- the woman from the mosaic, the queen, Rapunzel's real mother -- sat alone.

"Maximus?" she asked with confusion, getting to her feet as the horse burst in.

Rapunzel refused to dismount. That is, until she really looked at the woman standing there. She'd seen that face before, or one very much like it, at about half the age, looking back at her from the mirror. She was suddenly aware that her hair was an absolute mess from being unceremoniously cut, and she made an attempt to smooth it down as she slid off the horse's back.

The queen was starting at her with a look of absolute wonder and disbelief.

"Who are you, my dear?"

Her voice was kind and gentle, the softest woman's voice Rapunzel had ever heard. She suddenly realized she was shaking.

"Rapunzel," she answered meekly, and her answer brought tears to the woman's familiar eyes.

"Is it really you?" the queen breathed, and took a step forward, then another. "I thought you were dead...!"

Rapunzel shook her head rapidly, and was struck with the unfamiliar feeling of the short ends of her hair slapping her ears and cheeks. "No," she answered, and found out she was crying, too, by the sound of her own voice. "I was kidnapped by a woman named Gothel. She's dead now." Her voice caught, but what she had to say was far too important for her to allow herself to break down now. "But you have to stay the execution! Audwin didn't kidnap me! He never even hurt me! Please! Don't let him die, too!"

Whether or not Queen Arianna truly believe this girl, it was a good enough ploy to be worth looking into. She looked in the direction of the prison, though there was no seeing it from here, then said, "Follow me," and lifted her skirts to hurry down the hall.

Rapunzel remounted on Maximus, who not only followed the queen through the palace, but offered her a ride once he caught up. She accepted, and the most unlikely sight tore through he halls and out to the prison, hooves pounding and two brunette women holding tightly.

Before they even reached the courtyard, Rapunzel was calling, "Wait! Please, wait!"

Maximus kicked the gates open and whinnied like a creature from hell to get everyone's attention, just as Arianna leapt from his back with a cry of, "Stop! Executioner, stay your hand!"

A shocked murmur ran through the crowd and Rapunzel once again slid from the horse's back and ran up to the guillotine stage. "Audwin!" she called, tripping over her skirt as she clambered up the steps. "Audwin, I'm here!"

On the last step, she tread on too much skirt and went down, tripping entirely. Her knees hit the wooden stage with a dull thud, and she yelped in pain and surprise.

The amount of charades it had taken for a crow to convince a horse to follow it was astounding. Audwin's crow had resorted to placing sticks on the ground and shaping them like familiar iconography to get across at least a simple message.

Princess. In. Danger.

The gallant guard horse couldn't deny the draw of saving the day, even if he had to rush in without backup. The bird led the white steed at a brisk pace to get to the tower with barely enough time to spare before its master was to be executed. Hopefully now that they had the princess, they could get back in time to stop what was about to happen...

-

"Alright, magic man. Time to go."

Audwin didn't sit up as his cell was opened. He hadn't moved an inch since it had been shut the last time. He hadn't been sleeping. His eyes were fixed on the sad little window in his cell as he watched the sun rise and counted the seconds left in his life and wondered just what they had in mind to deal with him.

The guards had to drag him to his feet to pull him from his cell. Maybe he was being dead weight on purpose as one last act of defiance. Either way he didn't dignify them with words, as if to mock them for gagging him by making no noise. They held him in the hall and moved his wrists to the front of him before rebinding them. He knitted his brow together at this but one smaller, meeker guard muttered it was that to make what was about to happen less... stressful for him.

Imagine that. Caring for the mental well being of a man you're about to kill. Why not just blindfold him while they were at it? This kingdom was so twisted. Well, at least he would die knowing he had been right to stay away from all this. Humans were exactly as terrible as he had come to believe. This was the reward he got for trying to help someone.

"If it helps, you're one of the lucky ones," The man said, refusing to make eye contact with Audwin as he moved to hold his arm and guide him further down the hall toward the execution stage. Looking at the man, this was one of the two Audwin had put to sleep hours ago. The other one, with the mustache, must be still asleep. "It'll be fast."

The doors at the end of the hall opened up to the courtyard and Audwin blinked as his eyes were assaulted by the first light of morning rising. When his eyes adjusted, his blood ran cold. There were a dozen Coronan soldiers armed with crossbows trained on him. Ready to loose their bolts if he so much as flinched the wrong way. The worst, though, was behind them. They hadn't readied the gallows.. What stood ready, waiting for him, was a blade. The guillotine.

Bad enough they were going to execute him for a crime he didn't commit.... He was going to die on his knees.

"Easy does it, wizard. Keep moving."

The guard was pulling on Audwin and he hadn't realized he was refusing to move a moment. A cold had gripped his heart and for the first time since he was a cowering boy in a tower Audwin felt... fear. But still he walked. His bare feet carrying him across the courtyard and up those awful wooden steps to the stage. A stage... Of course they would make a spectacle of this. When he was turned to face outward, it only got worse. There was a tall iron gate where citizens of the kingdom huddled for a look at the evil owl sorcerer. High above the king stood, his wife absent. At least someone didn't have the stomach to watch a man die.

A cardinal approached to read Audwin his last rites in a mockery of compassion.

"Does the accused have anything he would like to confess before his execution?"

Audwin let his head fall back and closed his eyes thoughtfully. He lulled his neck to the side and nodded to the captain of the guard who stood nearby. The man huffed and approached to remove the gag.

"Ah... Thank you," Audwin groaned, stretching his jaw and licking his very dry lips. Everyone seemed to take a half step forward in anticipation of what he may do or say as he looked back up at the king and made direct eye contact. "Your guards look ridiculous and you should be ashamed of yourself for letting them go outside like this."

With an angry growl at Audwin's impertinence, the captain kicked the backs of his legs to drop the wizard onto his knees. Audwin laughed all the way down, even as his head was forced down onto the block. However, even as he wore a twisted smile, something he wasn't familiar with, stung at his eyes knowing this had all been for nothing. He was going to die and Rapunzel... Poor Rapunzel. He'd failed her spectacularly.

As the trumpets began to play a mockery of a funeral march, Audwin just closed his eyes and waited.

Goodbye, Rapunzel.

[anxiousthoughts365]

Nightmare

'No, please don't, I'm sorry!'

'S'rius?' Remus slurred, his head fuzzy with sleep as he lifted it from the pillow and squinted across to the one beside him. Black curls were splayed over it in a haphazard waterfall, and in the midst of the mess he could just make out Sirius' pale face. Remus hurriedly rose onto his elbow when he realised that his boyfriend's lovely features were twisted with pain and fear.

'Not him,' Sirius murmured, his voice cracking in a way that made Remus' chest ache. He was clearly asleep, but whatever he was living through in his subconscious was evidently distressing him, and Remus had already taken hold of the other boy's narrow shoulder before Sirius added in a whisper, 'Just please, not h-him.'

'Cariad,' Remus hummed, swallowing against the lump in his throat as he fought to keep his voice soft, soothing. Through many nights of trial and error, he'd found that Sirius was always easier to calm if he was woken gently. 'Come on, Sirius, wake up. It's just a dream, Love. Just a bad dream.'

It took a couple more shakes, but then Sirius gasped, his silver eyes snapping open wide. Remus made sure that the smile he pushed onto his face was believable, but all at once Sirius was scrambling up onto his knees, his hands flailing as he reached for Remus.

'You're alright,' Sirius blurted, and he promptly burst into tears as he took Remus' face between his slender hands, holding the taller boy still as Sirius' gaze traversed his body rapidly. Then Sirius was moving again, crowding in to scatter wet kisses all over Remus' cheeks, his jaw, his forehead, before finally brushing their lips together as he murmured, 'Oh, thank you Merlin, thank you Godric, thank you whoever the fuck is listening -'

'Pads,' Remus breathed, taken aback by his boyfriend's almost violent display of affection. 'What -'

'They had you,' Sirius hissed, his face turning sour as he recalled his dream. 'They had you, Moony. The Ministry.'

Remus tried not to show how his stomach flipped at the words. He should have known that this was coming. Sirius had been on edge ever since the Ministry had visited Hogwarts to talk to Remus on his 17th birthday last week. He'd tried to re-assure his boyfriend that everything was going to be fine, that he'd signed the Werewolf Registry with Dumbledore present for a reason.

The Headmaster had made it so that Remus would be free to spend Full Moons wherever he chose, as long as any security measures that were installed were assessed by the Ministry's Auror Department. And once the Ministry officials had left, Dumbledore had informed Remus that it would be his good friend Alistair Moody who would be assigned to his case, and that the man would be ... Guided by Dumbledore, where necessary.

But even this hadn't been enough to satisfy Sirius. He'd been snarling and snapping all week, had been practically circling Remus whenever anyone got too close, had sharply shut down any conversation that James or Peter tried to start about Full Moons, the Ministry, even Dumbledore in some instances.

And now Remus knew why.

'Sirius,' he murmured, lifting his hand to cup the boy's pallid cheek. 'I'm not going anywhere, Love. You're not going to lose me.'

Sirius crumpled, his lower lip trembling as fresh tears welled in his eyes. It was too much for Remus to bear, so he gathered Sirius to him, wrapping his long, scarred arms around the boy he loved so deeply. He held Sirius as sobs wracked his frame, and he rocked them gently while Sirius gulped and slowly came down. Remus was relieved when Sirius finally sat up, leaning back to meet his gaze. Even with his eyes red-rimmed and puffy, even with his face streaked with tears, Sirius was breathtaking.

'I won't let them take you, Moony,' Sirius asserted, his firm tone allowing no room for argument or jest. 'They can't have you. Because you're mine.'

'I'm yours,' Remus breathed, pressing a kiss to Sirius' lips. 'You and me, Pads. Forever.'

'Forever,' Sirius sighed, the smile evident in his voice as he leaned in to deepen the kiss, apparently appeased for the time being.

[stuckinapril]

every time i walk into my local library i make sure to look at the receptionists with big wet eyes before heading to my corner to study bc i really want them to hire me as a part-time aide

[torchstelechos]

People be like, how you doing? And I'm like, Loop is never going to see their family again.

[nametakensff]

Have you guys ever been so disgusted by family snz that you actually start crying

[cranberrymoons]

.

[arkhammaid]

had a fellow f1 fan at the camp and i will try to never talk about f1 with her again

[billy-royalton]

all these convention photos are killing me when will it be my turn 😭

[vvelegrin]

another funny thing is how every single thing produced or written by a doctor on something that is not commonly diagnosed is like, come on, we're trying!!!! remember that we're trying!!! if a doctor doesn't have the information you need, it's not necessarily their fault, they're working with whta they have :(((( come oooonnnn, it's probably that doctor's birthday, he's just a little doctor birthday boy. you're going to be mad at him on his birthday? wow. did you know every doctor was born on the same day so when you are mad at one you're mad on ALL of our birthdays? we're trying!!!! remember that we're trying!!!! we don't have the resources!!!! and we're not going to look for them <3

[alicethebard]

.

[ghost-proofbaby]

is it possible for me to just be on every taglist automatically? Because actually I want my notifs filled with your writing. This is how I feel every single time you post.

oh my god, i am gonna cry actually.

yes. yes, this is absolutely possible. i can definitely make an all or nothing taglist, i've just always assumed that there wasn't anyone who would want to be tagged in all of my writing.

gah. ily <3