#spring break is a lie this is spring panic

[27spoons]

You Are a Memory. | Natalie Scatorccio

pairing: natalie scatorccio/gn!reader

summary: Natalie says goodbye to an old friend. (mid-late s2)

wc: 2350

warnings: mentions and depictions of suicide, cannibalism as a metaphor for love, y/n usage, natalie scatorccio cannot catch a break

a/n: i wont lie to yall and say this is an easy read. i was writing smut then started listening to the linked song, and, well.... here we are. here we are.

"Nat, you don't have to do this," Van says, breaking the quiet. "Maybe…" They glance around the room before gesturing to Travis, “Trav can take them down to the plane, keep them there 'til spring. You don’t have to be the one to do this—"

"I'm fine on my own." Nat snaps—too quickly. She regrets the bite the second it leaves her mouth. "I did it with Jackie, I'll do it with y/n." They wouldn't have wanted anyone else to do this, anyway, she leaves unsaid, tightening the seatbelt around her waist as she prepares to face the howling wind outside.

Unlike when she was carrying Jackie's bones to the plane, Nat doesn't stop to look back this time. God forbid she let the entire cabin see the way tears had started to spring to her eyes.

The wind batters against her exposed skin as the door to the cabin opens, but it does little to deter her as she steps out into the air, kicking the door shut behind her.

Your bones are already packed—neat, contained. A far cry from Jackie’s, scattered and scorched, cradled in a sheet like the aftermath of a storm. No, she takes you with far more care. She’d watched as Shauna carved your body open, face stone-still. She hadn’t looked away—not once. 

Because in the end, wasn’t it her fault?

I was calling For the last time

"Have you seen y/n?" Nat asks, voice casual, maybe too casual, as she kicks snow from her boots. Another empty-handed hunt. "Found a piece of scrap wood. Figured they’d want it—been carving a lot, lately." She glances at the fireplace, the mantle lined with various woodland creatures and other shapes. 

Mari makes a face and shakes her head, stirring the pot of… belt soup. Yum. "Nah, not since we crashed last night, I think." She pauses, considering. "Wait. Actually—yeah. I don’t think I’ve seen them since we fell asleep." She glances up at Nat, "Aren't you two like… besties? Shouldn't you know where they are?"

That makes Nat's jaw tense. Last night? 

So the last time anyone saw you—was before they all fell asleep?

"Lot?" Nat whips her head around, looking for the former center back. "You seen them? You're always awake before anyone else?" She tries to steady her voice, but it’s already starting to shake—just like her hands.

Lottie considers Nat's question for a moment before shaking her head. "Not that I can remember."

Nat makes a slight sound and immediately throws on her boots again, preparing to go back out into the snow. "I gotta… this isn't like them. They wouldn't just vanish like this without a trace. It isn't like them."

"Wait, you're going back out?" Travis glances up from where he had sat near the fire, "Nat, we just spent hours out there. Maybe they're just taking a walk, or something." He dismisses her like she dismissed his concerns about Javi, but Nat doesn't hear any of it.

"If I'm not back by sunset, come looking for me." It's all the response she gives before she's out the door for the second time that day, trying not to give in to the panic that threatens to overwhelm her.

The walk to the plane feels longer than usual, her steps burdened by the heavy weight she carries—metaphorical and physical. The wind shrieks through the trees, dragging icy fingers across her cheeks, and she doesn't bother to wipe the tears that freeze as soon as they fall.

It feels wrong to bring you here. You don't belong here.

Sure, she did it with Jackie. But that had been about closure. Ritual. This? This is different.

This is a goodbye she hasn't earned, a goodbye she doubts that she'll ever earn.

The crunch of snow under her boots becomes almost unbearable. Rhythmic. Final. She wonders if you would've said something poetic about it—some half-assed line you'd mutter just to make her roll her eyes and secretly smile.

She tightens her grip on the bundle in her arms.

No, not a bundle. Not firewood. Not a pack of furs, or a dead buck.

You.

She hates how light you are now, all the weight of the meat and flesh that you had once worn cut from the bone, resting inside the stomachs of anemic and tachycardic teenagers who didn't value your sacrifice nearly as much as they should have.

The hull of the plane creaks as Nat steps into it, kicking her snow-covered boots on the floor as she walks towards the seat you had sat in when the plane went down, placing your bones carefully onto the cushions. A deep sigh leaves her as she kneels, her hands reverently splaying over the bag that carries you. "Fuck. I should’ve found you sooner." Her voice cracks, "I should've—you wouldn't have… if I'd just—" She presses a hand to her mouth as her eyes squeeze shut, "God, I'm so sorry."

We'd been here before  They found pictures in the snow

"Y/N!" Nat calls out, boots crunching through the snow that had settled over the past few days. "C'MON! THIS ISN'T FUNNY!" She tries to coat it in anger, but you’d know better. You’d hear the crack—the fear under it.

It's been over an hour since she left the cabin. 

An hour of calling your name. 

An hour of holding her breath like that could keep the worst from happening.

The sun is starting to set over the horizon, and she knows that she doesn't have much time left before it becomes too dark even to find her way back to the cabin, so she heads to the last place she thinks you would be. Maybe it's the first place she should have gone, but this has always been a spot you two visited together. Why would you go there alone?

So, she makes her way to this small alcove that the pair of you had found over the summer, before you were worried about starving, before you were concerned about freezing to death in a cabin surrounded by malnourished and fatigued teenagers.

When she approaches the clearing, she almost sighs in relief when she sees your form, lying supine on the ground and staring at the treeline. But you're still. Too still.

"Oh, Jesus-Fucking-Christ, dude. You scared the shit outta—"

The snow underneath your arms is stained a dark crimson colour, the exact colour that Nat had seen game bleed after she had successfully landed a fatal shot between their eyes. 

"No—" Her voice breaks, all semblance of sanity gone out the window. "No. No. No—" 

She drops to her knees adjacent to your lifeless form, hands on your shoulders as she shakes you vigorously. "No, you aren't fucking doing this to me! You know I can't fucking do this with—without—" The first sob falls from her lips when it finally sets in just how pale and waxen you are. 

Nothing else matters now. Her ears begin to ring, drowning out the already muted sounds of the forest, and she presses her forehead into your shoulder as the tears begin to streak down her cheeks. Her words collapse into broken sobs, muffled by your jacket as she clings to you like she could anchor you in place. Like if she just held on tight enough, you wouldn’t leave her again.

The silence in the plane feels just like the clearing.

Still. Too still.

Her hands, still red-raw from the cold, twitch as she brushes a bit of frost off the bag holding your bones. The skin is tight and shiny, fluid-filled sacs blooming at her knuckles—painful reminders of how long she's been in the cold, of what she'd do just to carry you back here herself.

"You looked so peaceful," she murmurs. "I fucking hated that." A scoff leaves her throat, watery and laced with pain. "You never looked like that when you were…" alive. 

Nat's jaw tenses as she looks down at the ripped-up carpet that lines the plane floor, blood-stained and perfectly resembling the emotional turmoil that bubbles beneath the surface. 

"Even when you were sleeping, you… your eyebrows were always pressed together, y'know? Like you couldn't get peace even when you slept." A beat, "I… God, y/n. I hope you've found some fucking peace."

She wants to hate you. She really does. She wants to lash out and tell your bones how selfish you were—but she can't. No matter how hard she tries, how hard she tries to push anger to the surface, you were never someone she could hate, not even when you stole her laces before Regionals last year and made her faceplant in front of the entire goddamn school.

No, you were always the best of them.

I could tell your eyes  Looked beneath the blue

It's well past nightfall when Travis and Gen find her.

Nat sits next to your body, face devoid of all and any emotion, fingers plagued blue and curled in on themselves with superficial frostbite. Her body's stopped shivering—given up on the core instinct to keep warm.

Her thousand-yard stare cuts through Travis as he kneels before her, his voice falling on deaf ears. 

All she can see is you. 

All she can hear is you. 

All she can feel is you.

The world feels as though it's been submerged in water as she's helped to her feet and back to the cabin. 

It isn't until Gen mentions something about coming back to retrieve your body in the daylight that Nat flinches.

"No—" Nat immediately rasps out, her senses returning to her as she struggles out of Travis's grasp. "N-no. We won't… we aren't gonna… not like we did Jackie. We won't. I won't let us. I won't. I won't. I won't. I w—" She chokes on her own words, falling back down to her knees adjacent your corpse. "I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry—"

Travis says something. A reassurance. An empty string of syllables that don’t matter. 

She doesn't hear it. His words bleed into a static sound that floods her senses and threatens to consume her whole, almost like the darkness that had consumed you.

The walk back to the cabin is a blur. Someone boils snow for a bath. Nat doesn't speak. Doesn't look up. She lets them peel off her coat, strip her down, and lower her in like a doll.

The water stings. She doesn't flinch.

She doesn't even feel it.

Her knees ache against the floor, but she doesn't budge from her position.

The plane is cold. Not wilderness cold—ghost cold. The kind of chill that sinks deeper than skin and doesn't go away, no matter how many layers you wear or how many nights pass.

Nat stares at the bag holding your bones—at you. Her fingers twitch again. She wants to open it. Wants to unzip it, lay you out, see you—but she's afraid of what won't be there. The parts of you that were taken, that they took, that she took.

Her throat tightens. She exhales sharply through her nose.

"'member what you said that one night?" she murmurs. "The night the plane crashed? That if you died out here, you wanted to go out with a bang?"

A weak laugh huffs out of her. Her hand moves slowly, trembling against her will, as it comes to rest over the bag.

"Well. I'm sorry it wasn't as exciting as you had hoped." A pause. "Y'did get eaten though, which you'd argue is pretty cool, but…" The laugh she attempts doesn't make it past an attempt—the sound coming out far more broken and frail than intended. "It wasn't supposed to end like this. Not you."

I woke underneath the trees For the first time

"Here," Shauna says quietly, holding out a pale heart with areas of purplish mottling to Nat, "you should be the one to do it."Nat's lip trembles as she delicately takes the heart—your heart—from Shauna's hand, cradling it like it might still beat. It's still cold from being in the elements for so long, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from the fireplace. 

She debates speaking for a long moment, but decides that words wouldn't mean much right now, not in front of a crowd of people you had grown a strong distaste for in the previous months. 

Before she can talk herself out of it, she takes a bite out of your right ventricle, the taste of congealed blood and half-frozen viscera coats her tongue, metallic and wrong. 

She nearly gags. 

So, she swallows hard. Forces it down. As quickly as it entered her mouth, it leaves, sliding past the lump in her throat like it might claw its way back up.

Nat stares at the half-eaten heart in her hands, slick and heavy with blood that no longer belongs to anyone.

She can't do it.

Not all of it.

With a sudden, shaky breath, she stands and crosses to the fire.

"You don't deserve this," she mutters—not to you, but to them.

And before anyone can stop her, she tosses the heart into the flames.

It hisses as it hits the heat, blood bubbling on contact. The smell is awful, but Nat doesn't flinch. She watches it burn until it's blackened and cracked, until nothing that once loved or was loved remains.

Only then does she turn her back to the fire and let the rest of them have their feast.

"I'm sorry, y/n," are the last words she speaks to you as she takes off the necklace that dangles around her neck—a rifle bullet on a long silver chain—and places it into the bag where your bones rest, and will remain until the ground thaws.

Nat doesn't look back as she leaves the plane, but she never forgets how your inanimate body looked when she found you there—your once bright eyes dimmed and devoid of life, your once beautiful laugh snuffed beneath the oppressive weight of the winter snow.

No, Natalie never forgets you, just like she never forgives herself.

a/n: we take a break from our regularly scheduled angsty-smut for just angst. anyways, back to you, angsty-smut! (translation: 'light up floor' next)

[honeyhotteoks]

₊ ⊹ ⟡ together; alternate version (정윤호 ♡ j.yh)

yunho's been away for tour, only this time, when he comes home you have very different news to share.

style: bullet drabble (alternative sequel to losing time) pairing: non idol!yunho x fem!reader word count: 2.5k tags/warnings: fluff, light angst, all things pregnancy and babies, light smut with breeding kink/preg kink (yunho is v happy she's pregnant essentially lmao) notes: this was fully inspired by an anon in my inbox who asked what would have happened in my short fic together if the news reader had to share was a pregnancy and how would yunho react to that. i don't take fic requests, but i love babyfic and this just turned into a little bullet and drabble fic i thought i would share with everyone.

[masterlist]

at the end of losing time, yunho leaves for tour and it’s a long one. a full two, two and a half months abroad in europe while you’re left at home in a different time zone missing him terribly. 

you find out the truth while he’s away, only a few weeks into tour when you start getting sick. it’s not something you can just spring on him while he’s on tour, it would distract him, it would stress him out, and frankly you just don’t know what to do. what decision to make. 

you know how you feel about yunho, and you knows how he feels about you….  but this type of news always changes everything. 

so you keep it to yourself, and you do your best to make it through. 

only when yunho does return.... you’re showing. it's not a lot, just the beginning stages of a curve at three months, but it's starting to be apparent if you’re wearing fitted clothing and it's not something you would be able to keep from him if he touched you. 

so when he comes home, finally, and texts you, asking if he can send a car to bring you to the studio, you want to say yes so badly but you can’t. 

this isn't a conversation you can have in front of anyone else so you say no. and you’re honestly terrified, so you lie, just a little white lie. you tell him you can't come and that you’re not feeling well, you’ll see him another day soon.

anxiety is fully eating you up and you’re spiraling, and you don’t know it but your texts fully freaked yunho out. he's convinced that you’re going to break up with him and waited until after tour to do it, and he's sick about it.

after dance practice, he sneaks out and comes to your place.

all of a sudden hes there, he’s knocking on your door. 

you thought you had more time, you still don’t know how to tell him, what to say- but he’s there 

and -

You're a mess. Your hair is tangled from running your fingers through it again and again, and you're pretty sure this sweatshirt has a coffee stain on it, but he's here and no matter what you have to face this.

He knocks again, a soft rap on the door, "y/n, please let me in,"

"Just a second," You call back, knotting your hair back into a bun and kicking on your slippers. Your stomach rolls with nervousness, but at least, you think, it's not morning sickness.

When you finally pull open the door your hands are trembling, and Yunho's pained expression doesn't help.

"Hey," You manage.

"Hi," His eyes dart over you, a crease of concern between his brows, "can I come in?"

You move to let him in immediately, stepping back into the apartment, "Sorry, of course,"

When you shut the door tight and flip the lock, silence fills the space, but somewhere within you, you find the strength to turn around and look up at him.

He shifts from foot to foot, clearly off balance at the strange discomfort between you, and finally he sighs, "Whatever it is," he says, "I know we can work it out."

A strike of panic lances up your spine at the thought he might already know what words are sitting like lead on your tongue, but all you can manage is a soft, "What?"

"You're avoiding me," His hands flex and release, "we haven't seen each other in months, and now I'm here, and you haven't even smiled. I don't think you're sick, I think something's wrong."

"Yunho," Your voice cracks, and you can feel tears threatening your eyes already. You wanted to hold it together, but this is already too hard.

He swallows tightly and keeps talking, his own voice laced with nerves, "I know two months was a long time, and I know I haven't been the best boyfriend, I should have called more, made more time for us, but, y/n," he takes a tentative step towards you, "I love you, and I really don't want to give up on us, please, don't,"

Things slot into place at his words and you shake your head, "Who said anything about giving up on us?"

The words hang for a moment, and then he softly exhales, "You're not breaking up with me?"

"No!" Your voice squeaks as you rush to dispel that idea, "No, oh my god, not at all,"

He grins, covering his face with his broad hands and sighing, "Jesus Christ," he sighs, "I was going out of my mind,"

"No," You shake your head again, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you like that."

He drops his hands and you can see the tension leave his tight shoulders, "Thank god," he smiles and steps towards you.

Panic bubbles back up inside you and you raise your hand to stop him, stepping back until your hips bump into the back of the couch, "Wait,"

His expression crumbles, "What's going on?"

You just have to say it.

"Um," Your stomach flips, "I do have some news."

"News," He repeats numbly.

"Yeah," You start to cross your arms over your chest but the realization that it would pull the fabric of the sweatshirt closer to you rockets through your brain and you drop your arms helplessly by your side. You have no idea how to tell him this.

"You can tell me anything," He says softly, reading your panic in a moment, "and you know, there's nothing we can't handle together."

"Yunho," Tears start to gather, making your eyes glassy, "I don't know how to tell you this,"

"I'm here,"

The panicked, terrified, anxious part of your brain scoffs, for now. You look away from him immediately, eyes glued to the floor. If this is how you lose him, then you guess it just wasn’t meant to be.

You take a steadying breath and jump, "I have something to tell you," you knot your fingers together, "and I didn't know how to tell you while you were away. I was afraid of distracting you or trying to figure this out while you weren't, you know, here,"

"Okay," He murmurs, taking a slow step in your direction, "I'm here,"

"A week after you left," You press your eyes closed tight, tears tracking down your cheeks, "I missed my period,"

He's silent. Your stomach churns again, but you keep going, "For a little bit I just thought it was stress, or something funny, I'm not always on schedule, but, then I started getting sick," With your eyes closed and with him so quiet, you can almost pretend you're practicing this speech, one of the many times you talked it through in the shower, lying in bed, pacing laps around your apartment. "I'm so sorry," Your voice cracks, "I'm pregnant," You can't bring yourself to open your eyes. "I know I should have told you," Tears rush forward a little faster now and you take a hitched breath, "and I know you don't want this, but you deserve to know, and I... I don't, Yunho, I don't know what to do, I don't know what I'm s-supposed to do, and," Yunho steps forwards all at once, his hands cupping your cheeks and drawing your face upwards, "Hey, hey," he soothes, voice tender, "look at me," Your eyes finally open, meeting his gaze. You expect to find him terrified, any twenty-something guy with a delicate career would be, but all you find in his eyes is soft comfort. There's no trace of the idol in him, just your lover, your best friend. "It's okay," He wipes away your tears gently, "sweetheart, breathe," "Why aren't you angry?" Tears rush faster, your breath tight. He smiles, "I'm upset you didn't think you could tell me," he dips forwards and presses a kiss to your forehead, "but y/n, I love you, this isn't... baby, this could never be bad news." "W-what?" "The timing's terrible," He admits, "and I also have no idea what we're supposed to do, but I don't care. I love you, we'll figure this out." Of all the reactions you expected from him, this hadn't even crossed your mind. When he leans back from you a little to study your tear stained face again, he smiles, and it feels like everything about your life is about to change. Slowly, you pull his hands away from your face and take a steadying breath, "Yunho," you manage, "you're an idol, and besides, we're twenty-six, we're not even married, we're not, what the hell are we going to do with a baby," He slides his hands over yours and brings them together, lifting them so he can press his lips to the back of your knuckles, "We'll do what people do, we'll make it work." You shake your head, feeling fully unmoored, but he keeps going. "I knew you were it for me on the second date," He says and the world slows to a stop, "the only thing in the world I'm terrified of is losing you, but this? y/n, I'm in love with you. Did you think I haven't imagined what our lives would be like?" "I," You can't find the right words, but you try, "I love you," His smile widens, and he moves quickly, tugging you forwards and wrapping his arms around you properly. He's much taller, and he has to lean over you, but he wraps one arm smoothly around your lower back and your hands settle on his shoulders. He pulls you up in one smooth motion, his free hand slipping under your thighs as you wrap them around his waist to hold you tight against him. He kisses your lips, tender relief in every press of his mouth on yours and he nuzzles your nose with his, "I missed you," he breathes. "I missed you too," You confess, your body finally relaxing and melting into him, weeks and weeks of tension bleeding out of your body, "so much," He hugs you close, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you bury your face into his neck, and then he freezes, "Oh my god," his hand slides over your back, landing on your waist, "you really are pregnant," You know he can feel it, the change in your body when you're pressed flush against him like this, and you nod into his neck. "H-how," His hand pushes under your sweatshirt, searching your skin, "baby, how far?" "Fourteen weeks," He sucks in a breath, dropping you gingerly back to your feet, "I can't believe you didn't tell me," For a split second you think you're finally getting the anger you anticipated, but the giddy expression on his face says otherwise.

"I've missed so much," He snakes a hand under your hoodie, and lays his palm over your slightly distended belly, "I'm... god, I can't believe this," "You're not upset?" You check softly. "No," He shakes his head, and then he tugs gently at your sweatshirt, "No, but, can you take this off, can I see?" You're nervous again, but his easy energy wraps around you like a safety blanket and you nod, swallowing back any fears and pulling off the sweatshirt, leaving you in nothing but your sweat pants, and a tight tank top. His eyes zero in on the bump immediately, and the sliver of skin between your sweats and the hemline of your top. Your hands rest over your belly, a nervous, protective instinct, "I know," He blinks hard, tearing his eyes away from your changing body and up to your face. "What?" You ask, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "You're really pregnant," He says, his voice a little rough, and then he reaches again until his hand slides over the smooth plane of your stomach, tracing the curve, "that's my baby," "Yeah," You breathe softly. 

Tears track down his face and he laughs, reaching for you again, up into his arms and nestled against him. 

From there?

He’s kissing you and he just can’t stop. 

You’re a mess from stress and tears, and hardly feel sexy, but he doesn’t care. He’s missed you, he loves you so much and this news is unexpected and terrifying but he’s so happy he doesn’t care

So holding you in his arms still, he takes you to bed

And you’re apologetic about the mess, your bed stand is covered with water bottles and anti-nausea medication and it hits him all at once how you’ve just been holding it together by a thread 

And he pulls you into the bed - “You’ve been sick, this hasn’t been easy, has it? I could have been there for you, I wish I had been there,” 

But you assure him that you’re mostly on the other side of it, you’re only sick like once in a while now not every second of every day 

And he’s like….. we are talking about that later, but right now how are you feeling? 

And you’re good…. but god, you missed him and now you’re just so relieved

So he begs you to let him take care of you now, he’s home, he can carry that weight if you’ll let him

And teary tender kissing in bed leaves his hands wandering, noticing how much is different, losing his mind over your bump and the new fullness of your breasts

And he’s hard and you’re touch starved 

And then he’s just losing it a little - kissing your body, telling you how much he loves every inch of you, how insane it makes him that he did this to you, how you made something together

And all the tenderness to dirty talk sends your brain into overdrive. 

It’s all just desperate needy, thank god we didn’t break up i can’t believe i got you pregnant sex

Worshipping oral, lots of body kissing and feral groaning from Yunho

His absolute insanity at being inside you like this - and you’re tighter, wetter, and needier than ever, and he’s just feral for it

“You’ll be the prettiest mommy, won’t you?” 

Just heaps of breeding and preg dirty talk

“God, I hope you want a lot of kids,” 

“You look so good like this, I’ll have to knock you up again,” 

“So pretty with my baby inside you,” 

And when you’re done, you fall asleep instantly. you’ve been sleeping so much more all of a sudden, and you suppose your body needs it, but it feels like you’re finally resting for the first time in weeks

When you wake, your apartment is clean, he got take out (but he’s googling best soups for morning sickness and texting Wooyoung cooking questions), and he’s making a list of everything you’ll need. He’s already making a plan of what you’re going to do. 

So even though the tour was terrifying, he’s home, he’s got you. You’re together on this, always.

[a-hazbin-reader]

HELLO HELLO I HAVE ANOTHER ONE BUT ITS A 2 IN 1????? ALASTOR AND READER REACTING AND HELPING ONE ANOTHER DURING A PANIC ATTACK??????? PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

I GOTTA DO IT I JUST GOTTA-

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Panic attacks

Description: ☝️⬆️

SO-

It's really REALLY difficult to get Alastor to honestly open up to you about ANYTHING, even as his S/O

He will keep everything to himself, not out of any maliciousness but because he's not used to letting his guard down

Hides most of his fears behind his smile and quick wit

But you don't land The Radio Demon himself by not knowing him and his inner turmoil by not seeing the signs

You can see the cracks in his persona before even he can, knowing when he's about to break down

You try to talk to him about it beforehand, but he always brushes you off, telling you that he's fine

He tells himself that he's fine that everything is under control

It's always a little thing that sets him off, the last straw that broke the camel's back

Doesn't even realize that he's losing it until there's tiny tear pricks in the corners of his eyes and he's gripping his head so tight that he's hurt his scalp

Just repeats to himself that everything is fine, everything is okay, he's got everything under control

Breaks your heart when you see his painfully tight smile and watery eyes, shaking like a leaf

"Alastor..? Oh honey..."

Flinches when you place a gentle hand on his back, surprised that you snuck up on him

Tries to lie to you, bottle his emotions back up and may even try to seduce/fluster you depending on how frazzled he is

But you see through it, you always see through him

"Hey no...it's okay to be upset..."

Reluctantly leans on you, letting you hug his head to your chest until his hyperventilating stops and he's soothed by your heartbeat

Will put all of his strength into not letting himself cry, digging his claws into you as he grips you tight

His shaking finally stops once he relaxes into your hold, accepting your comfort

Don't make him explain himself, just help him ride it out until he can be himself again

When you two pull away he'll try to go on as if nothing had happened, springing up with renewed energy

Please don't comment on what happened, he's already embarrassed

"Alastor, come talk to me next time...okay..?"

"...I appreciate the offer, my dear."

That's the most you'll get out of him but he does start listening to you when you tell him to take care of himself

If anybody tries to pry into it then he'll just try to scare them off or redirect their attention

It's hard being so evil

You on the otherhand-

Whether you follow your own advice or not, everyone has a panic every once in a while, it's natural

It sneaks up on you and hits you like a tidal wave when it does happen, you hardly register your body crumpling to the floor

You feel so sick-even the air tastes bad

You can't breathe-where is the air???

Your body is white hot and ice cold all at the same time and your thoughts keep racing and-

You're in someone's lap suddenly, curled into their chest as sharp hand soothing the back of your neck

Your mind is so fuzzy from panic that you can't even recognize who it is, only instinctively leaning into their scent

"Y/N, whatever has you so upset, I promise we can face it together..."

Alastor-

He lets you throw your arms around his neck and bury your face into his shoulder, only holding you tighter in response

Pretends that this is just a normal conversation the entire time, talking endlessly about his day and what he did

Somehow it works and you find yourself calming down, becoming invested in his story

Before you know it, you're laughing at something Alastor said Niffty did and you've forgotten that you were ever even having a panic attack

Alastor doesn't let you go even when you move to get off his lap, unwilling to part with you after seeing you so vulnerable

"Let's just take a little time to be with each other, shall we?"

If you want to talk about it then he'll listen while keeping his lips pressed to your temple, giving you reassuring squeezes

If you don't want to talk about it then that's fine, he's not going to force you or even bring it up again

Either way, the moment you two part ways then he's back to his witty, snarky self and he expects you to be yourself too

If anybody asks, he'll just lie and say you two were playing twister

Charlie two years later: They weren't playing twister...

It's a horrible lie but he doesn't care, he dares them to question him and his precious S/O

I HOPE THIS IS GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU!! I wanted it to be soft 😭

[ot8xbangchansgirlsblog]

𝕃𝕦𝕟𝕒 | ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕟𝕖 | ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕥𝕨𝕠 | ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖

Warning: Angst/mention of death/Blood/MPreg/MxM

A/B/O dynamics:

Omega (Han, Felix, Y/n)

Beta (Hyunjin, Seungmin, I.N)

Alpha (Chan, Changbin, Leeknow)

The series might traumatize you. I really hope you guys like it and enjoy it.

Summary - Request; I've just been reading your A/B/O series and it's so so so good. I was wondering if you would accept an ot8 request where their omega gets in trouble with another pack and Straykids are really worried?

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The walk home was absolutely horrifying, to say the least. Lee Know had rushed back before the rest, needing to break the devastating news to everyone. Anxiety coiled in his stomach as he approached the house; he wasn’t sure how the omegas would react, and the uncertainty made him especially nervous.

When he arrived, everyone seemed to spring into action immediately. The atmosphere was thick with tension, and the sour scent in the air made Lee Know’s stomach churn. It didn’t sit right with him at all. He instinctively released calming pheromones, hoping to ease the collective anxiety that hung over them like a dark cloud.

Just then, an omega ran into his arms, seeking comfort in his embrace. Lee Know held them tightly, offering what solace he could while the betas began to prepare for whatever came next.

“Is she awake at least?” Felix sobbed, his voice breaking. Lee Know felt a pang of guilt wash over him. He didn’t want to stress Felix out even more, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie.

“Lee Know, how bad is it?” Han asked, his eyes narrowing in concern as he noticed Lee Know's silence.

“I don’t know. I really don’t, my loves. I just had to get the kids back to the village and made my way here straight,” he explained, pulling them both closer to him.

Inside, his alpha was growling—an instinctive response to Felix’s vulnerability, especially since he was pregnant and clearly upset. Lee Know’s protective instincts surged, and he tried to keep everyone grounded.

“For now, let’s get you washed up and ready for tonight, yeah? I don’t want you on your feet like this,” he said softly, stroking Felix’s back.

“Okay, can Han stay here? She might need an omega around… just in case?” Felix looked up at him with pleading eyes, and Lee Know felt his heart twist.

“Yeah, I’ll stay. Don’t worry, Lixie,” Han assured him quickly. Felix nodded, a small thank you escaping his lips as he and Lee Know made their way upstairs.

Meanwhile, I.N was finishing a potion at the counter. “I’ve got to get more rabbit blood, Hyunjin,” he called out, glancing at the clutter of ingredients around him.

“Go with Seungmin. I’ll stay and finish this up with Han,” Hyunjin replied, his mind racing with the numerous potions he was trying to memorize in hopes of being prepared when she came home. His head spun with the overwhelming amount of information.

“Are you sure, hyung?” I.N asked, concern etched on his face. He knew how draining it could be to handle potions alone.

“Yeah, I’ve got it. Now hurry. They’re almost home,” Hyunjin encouraged, trying to mask his own rising anxiety. The urgency in his voice spurred I.N into action, and as he hurried off, Hyunjin returned to his work, desperately hoping to find something that could help when their beloved mate finally returned.

When Y/N woke up, a blood-curdling scream tore from her throat. Her eyes shot open as panic surged through her; someone’s hands were gripping her body.

“Hey, shh, it’s me, baby,” Chan said, his voice trembling as he fought back tears. “You’re okay, you’re back with me.” He held her close, trying to ground her.

“My baby, my baby, I lost the baby!” she cried out, desperation lacing her words. She struggled against him, instinctively wrapping her arms protectively around her belly. “Let go of me!” she screeched, pushing him away with all her strength.

Chan felt utterly helpless. He didn’t know what to do, what to say—how to react to her panic. His heart raced as he watched her fight against the very comfort he was trying to provide.

“Y/N, please,” he pleaded, his voice breaking. In a moment of desperation, he tried to let his pheromones envelop her, a dangerous move knowing how it could affect omegas, but he felt like he had no choice. His instincts screamed at him to do something, anything, to bring her back to him.

“Please, it’s all done with,” he whispered, his heart aching as he held her tighter, hoping his presence could soothe her fears. “You’re safe, I promise. I’m right here.”

"Let go of me! You didn’t come, you didn’t come find me!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, fists pounding against Chan’s chest. The strikes didn’t hurt him physically, but the emotional pain was crushing.

“Let’s put her down, Chan,” Changbin begged, his eyes filled with concern. He knew there was no way Y/N would calm down with the alpha holding her like that.

“This is your fault! You promised!” she sobbed, her words cutting deeper with each utterance. Chan felt his heart shatter as the weight of her accusations settled on him.

It was his fault. She hated him now. She despised him.

“I’ll take care of her, Chan. I think it’s better to leave,” Hyunjin urged, stepping forward, his voice steady yet soft, as he tried to create space for Y/N.

Without another word, Chan released her and fled the room, Han and Changbin chasing after him, knowing he could spiral into reckless decisions.

“Leave, just leave me alone!” Y/N cried, curling in on herself, as if trying to shield her heart from the world.

“I can’t do that,” Hyunjin frowned, inching closer, desperate to reach her.

“You... you guys left me!” she sobbed harder, the pain evident in her eyes. Hyunjin felt a tightness in his chest, recognizing that she wasn’t allowing any of them to communicate through their bond.

“Let me take care of your wounds, love,” he pleaded, extending his hand toward her. She hesitated, looking up at him, and for a moment, he saw a flicker of trust before doubt clouded her gaze. “You’re weak and tired. Please, baby, let me in.”

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust them—she adored them—but her current state wouldn’t allow her to accept help, not after everything she had been through. Yet she also knew she was fragile and needed support.

“Fine,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. Hyunjin let out a sigh of relief and called Seungmin into the room for help. A beta’s job, as always.

“I’ll run her a bath. I.N is working on the potions,” Seungmin explained, casting a concerned glance at Y/N. It pained him to see her in such distress, and Hyunjin was the only one brave enough to confront the situation.

His hands trembled as he slowly reached for her, gently touching her pale skin. She sat in the corner, refusing to move an inch.

“I need to get rid of your clothes,” he whispered, his eyes searching for hers, but she was too vulnerable to hold his gaze.

“I can... I can do it by myself,” she murmured. “I’m disgusting right now.”

“Don’t you ever say that, please,” Hyunjin said, his heart aching at her words. He refused to let her think that way about herself. “You are my mate. I have vows to honor. You are the love of my life, and I will never see you as disgusting,” he whispered, caressing her cheeks gently. He longed to take away her pain, to destroy anyone who had harmed her, but first, he had to attend to her needs.

She looked away but nodded, giving him the permission he needed. He quickly removed the shredded fabric, horror flooding his eyes as he examined her wounds.

“Can I hold you, my love?” he asked, needing to scent her, to be close, but her gentle shake of the head shattered his heart.

Clearing his throat, he accepted the rejection, knowing it was too soon. “Can I at least help you to the bathroom?” he begged.

She nodded, agreeing, and soon they found themselves in the bathroom. As he helped her into the tub, small whimpers escaped her lips as the water stung against her wounds.

“I only put Armadillo Bile in the water; the rest will be for drinking,” Seungmin commented, standing by, trying to keep himself together as he leaned on the bathroom counter.

“Alright, thanks, babe. I know it’s hard for you to be here, so you can go help I.N,” Hyunjin said, feeling the tension radiating off Seungmin. The beta's scent was all wrong, and it upset Y/N further.

“I’ll just go check on Felix. I’ll be back in a bit,” Seungmin whispered, letting out a sigh before placing a quick kiss on Hyunjin’s cheek and leaving the room.

Y/N sat there in silence, tears rolling down her cheeks. The last few days replayed in her mind, a haunting cycle of pain and despair. The overwhelming feelings left her wanting solitude, yet she knew that if she didn’t accept Hyunjin’s help, she wouldn’t get any rest.

Once she was finally in bed, her wounds cleaned and treated, she wrapped herself in the blanket, turning her back on Hyunjin as a silent way of telling him to leave.

He understood her need for space but his beta wouldn’t allow it. He settled into a chair in the corner, resolute in his decision to stay. No matter how long it took, he would wait for her.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

"Hello, little one," Y/N smiled brightly at the little rabbit hopping toward her. She was picking strawberries just outside the territory line, a little thrill of adventure sparking within her. She knew she was safe— all the alphas were hunting just around the corner, well aware of her location.

Every moment spent gathering strawberries filled her with joy. The vibrant red fruits were a treat, and watching the animals frolic peacefully in their lush territory brought her a sense of calm. Everyone knew not to mess with the SKZ pack; they were one of the largest packs out there, and anyone who dared to cause trouble would end up in serious trouble.

"Excuse me?" a soft voice broke through her thoughts.

"Hm?" Y/N hummed, turning around to see a young boy standing a little way into the forest, looking shy and uncertain.

“U-um, excuse me, miss. Do you have any water by chance?” The boy asked politely, though his eyes were filled with something she couldn’t quite place.

Y/N furrowed her brows, concern washing over her. What was a young boy like him doing out here alone? “Oh? Yes, I do have a little with me. But what are you doing here all alone? Do your parents know you’re here?” she questioned as she reached into her basket for the water bottle.

“I... my parents were killed,” he said, looking away, shame and sadness mingling in his voice. “I’ve been trying to find a new home since.” He studied her with wide, curious eyes.

“Oh dear,” she frowned, her heart aching for him. “I’m so sorry to hear that. How old are you?” She took a step closer, realizing just how young he really was. She knew she couldn’t hurt him even if he tried.

“I’m 13… Are you an omega?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

Y/N hesitated for a moment before nodding. “I am—” Her scent, sweet and milky, wafted through the air, smelling like vanilla.

“Are you pregnant?” he asked, furrowing his brow in confusion as he tried to understand why she smelled so sweet.

“Yes, I am. Three months,” she smiled, gently rubbing her belly to show him.

“Well, that’s too bad,” he shrugged, an odd look crossing his face.

“What?” she asked, curiosity piqued. “Why is that too bad—” But before she could process his response, she felt something hard and firm strike her from behind, right on her head.

Pain shot through her skull, and her vision went black as she crumpled to the ground, the world around her fading into darkness.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Y/N? Y/N, wake up,” a soft voice urged, breaking through the haze of her nightmare. She gasped and scrambled away from the person shaking her, her heart racing. Her eyes landed on Hyunjin’s confused expression, and she realized he was wearing the same outfit from the night before. Had he not gone to his own room?

“Hey… you had a bad dream, angel. You scared me,” he whispered, concern etched across his features as he pulled her trembling body into his arms.

“Hyunjin, make it stop,” she begged, clinging to him tightly, her voice quivering. “Make the pain go away, bring my pup back. Please.” Her sobs wracked her body, each cry echoing the anguish she felt deep inside.

Hyunjin’s heart broke at her words. A few tears slipped from his eyes as he held her close, feeling her pain wash over him. Watching her suffer was unbearable. “I’m sorry, my love. I really wish I could change everything. I wish I could bring our pup back,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. At least she was letting him hold her, even if it had taken days for her to feel safe in his embrace again.

“Would you like me to get you anything?” he asked, desperate to help her in some way, wanting to alleviate even a fraction of her suffering. “Just name one thing.”

“Hold me,” she whispered, her voice fragile yet pleading.

“Always,” he replied, his tone filled with determination. He tightened his grip around her, letting her feel the warmth of his love and the safety of his presence.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Taglist: @ihrtlix@bowsnbang@katsukis1wife@thegingerthatwaited@thicccurls

@xxeiraxx @paleangelsweets @klaydohart @eastleighsblog @ivrespace

@galaxy4489 @purplepursepaint @catlove83 @sillystormsstuff @iwuberic

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@aalexyuuuhm @kenaicantcommunicate @fiestaplum-skz

[kedsandtubesocks]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE write more MLB Professional Joel !!! It was such a good read and it makes me want more

You're one of the very few who write really fun AU's for him, and it has me absolutely addicted

Dear anon thanks so much I appreciate you!! And since you asked so nicely… let’s enjoy some more baseball Joel yeah?

—

Game Changer - Spring Training

MLB pitcher!Joel Miller x F!Reader

warnings: 18+ only dbf!Joel, allusions to smut, secret relationship things, brief moments of panic

word count: 1.2k

Arizona’s desert holds a surprising charm to it. You’re even more amused that the city’s name fits it so well.

Surprise, Arizona is where the Texas Rangers would be staying for spring training.

You managed to get ahead of all the work you can, moved a few things around schedule wise, then came up with an easy lie for your parents when they asked curious as to why you were heading to Arizona for a four day weekend.

Because the reason why you’re here walks out from the clubhouse to warm up looking handsome as ever in his training camp uniform.

“Joel! Joel!” The crowd erupts in cheers seeing him, and a wide smile breaks over your face.

You’re thankful fans are able to watch from the fencing around the field. It’s heartwarming and endearing seeing how many people are here to watch the team train. Now you suppose you’re one of those devoted baseball fans now, or mainly, just a Joel fan.

He’s in top form today. Seeing his body crouch up in the windup then fling the ball with such force never ceases to impress you, keep you in awe of the man you adore so much.

It boggles your mind a bit realizing a new season is starting. Because, in theory, you’re coming up on a year of being with Joel.

One of the outfielder’s, Joel’s closest friend on the team, spots you and happily waves making you grin. A lot of the team recognizes you now. They know you’re with Joel, and you’ve even tagged along to a few team dinners now.

Even Ellie and Sarah know about you and him.

Of course the last to not know, the ones still kept in the dark, are your parents… specifically your dad.

Your mom, with her scary sixth sense, has noticed something is up. Accidentally you’ve let it slip you’re seeing someone casually. But that’s the extent of it.

Because you wouldn’t call traveling across states to be with Joel casual. Especially when he paid for your flight ticket, even booked your hotel room to make sure you were comfortable and close to the ranch.

One day, you’ll be brave and tell them. Then hope your dad doesn’t try to kill you or Joel. But now’s not the time to think about that.

The weather is beautiful today. You soak in the sun and soft breeze, enjoying watching Joel Miller be the outlaw cowboy pitcher he is. His curveball is getting better.

There’s a new rookie reliever pitcher the Rangers drafted. Joel immediately has stepped into fatherly parental mode showing different ways to grip the ball. The kid hangs off his every word and follows Joel around like a puppy. It’s rather cute.

Cheers come off to the side of the fence. You glance over to see someone with a phone telling everyone to wave, urging them to chant ‘Let’s Go Rangers!’

Ignoring it, you return to watching Joel.

Eventually lunch break arrives. Joel sends you a text urging you to go relax at the hotel.

Might be a long day at practice baby go enjoy the room

You’ve been wanting to get some reading done, and lounging on the gorgeous hotel room balcony does seem tempting.

Appreciating that Joel understands, you head back to the hotel.

You’re also thankful housekeeping came by to fix the beds. Your face feels like it’s on fire just thinking of the mess you and Joel left the room in this morning.

It’s been a month since you last physically saw him. The way you and him fucked felt raw, tasting of something primal, like you were trying to consume each other for the lost time.

Now seeing a few of Joel’s things here makes your heart melt. His jacket slung on the chair, his toothbrush thrown against yours, his iPad charging on the table.

He’s still mainly staying at the hotel with the team, but you’re grateful he’s snuck away to stay here for a few nights already.

Curling up with your book on the hotel balcony with the lovely Arizona weather creates a dreamy afternoon you happily sink into.

Then your phone chimes off. A text from your mom.

It’s a picture from Instagram.

Specifically the Texas Ranger’s Instagram.

And you’re in the background clear as day, easy to spot.

So…what are you doing at spring training?

Your heart drops. Terror floods into you an unseating wave that draws you under.

Everything becomes muffled and heightened all at once.

Immediately a lie conjures itself up so fast as you text back.

Yeah, Alex had work to do and thought I’d swing by to check out the team and say hi to Joel

Alex, your best friend, thankfully told you to use her as a lie.

Your mom doesn’t reply back for a while, and your stare in pure dreaded silence waiting to see any sign of life.

The chime comes, and your hands shake checking your phone.

Ok have fun

The reply is simple, diffuses the situation. Yet it doesn’t stop the fear pumping through you.

Joel’s contact brings your phone to life, and you don’t know if that’s better or worse.

“Hi, honey.” He greets casual and exhausted. “Done for the day, so I’m headin’ back. Y’wanna start talkin’ dinner?”

“I think my parents know about us.” You blurt.

“Wait, what?” His voice trips over itself.

He urges you to take a breath and tell him everything.

So you do. You tell him about the Instagram photo, the text…

He sighs weary, deeply tired, and you feel guilty now for rushing him with this.

“I’m sorry.” You quickly scramble out.

You’re sorry for being here, sorry for maybe accidentally revealing yourself to your parents, for getting so worked up over this -

Joel says your name, calm and steady.

The door clicks with the room key. Before you realize it, your favorite pitcher walks through the door.

Immediately you rush towards him. In a few steps he’s gathering you in his warm arms, and nothing else matters.

In this carved out space, it’s just him and you holding each other tight.

“I don’t think ya need to worry, honey.” He reassures, rubbing your back softly. “If they knew, ‘specially if your dad knew, no doubt they’d be fuckin’ calling me already.”

That’s true.

A part of you is reassured, yet…

Being in his arms, you realize this is where you want your future.

And something deep inside now aches to have your parents find out. You want to stop hiding Joel, want to stop hiding this. You aren’t ashamed of him. If anything, you’re unbelievably proud of him and want to keep him in your life for as long as you can.

A dangerous thought flutters in your mind. Maybe you should call your mom back and tell her the truth.

“When you get nervous for a game,” you suddenly ask Joel. “How do you get over it?”

A soft hum, a rumble of a deep thought radiates from his warm chest, and it's strangely soothing.

“Guess once I get on the mound, it all just melts away. Get reminded of why I do this, why it’s all worth it. Nerves and all.” He mutters.

You pull away from Joel’s embrace for a moment to glance at him. He’s still sweaty from practice and smells vaguely of sunlight and the field’s dust. But he’s beautiful, and you want him to be yours in every way.

He matters in so many ways it feels like your world now is molded to him; you can’t think of a day without him.

You place a soft kiss on his lips and realize how he’s worth the nerves and all.

Maybe even more than that.

So you think… it might be time for you to go up to bat for your pitcher.

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Hero Kidnaps Villain Part 18

Warnings: none, really. Mostly fluff and comfort in this one

He was horribly on-edge in the uncomfortable silence that followed, tense and on high alert, but he let out a strangled shriek of terror when a speedy blur of movement came shooting up over the edge of the bed toward him.

He reflexively jerked away, dropping the sandwich and springing backward on the bed before discovering he couldn't go far with how his wrist was cuffed to the headboard, only realizing it when the short chain tethering them together snapped taut and roughly yanked him to a stop half-fallen off the opposite side of the bed with his restrained arm extended toward the headboard.

Villain's whole face flushed bright red with embarrassment as his terrified eyes darted up to see a cat -- a literal house cat -- perched on the bed, fur puffed up defensively and back half-arched, staring back at him with wide eyes. It looked equally as startled as Villain was to discover it wasn't alone in this room.

They had a tense standoff, Villain still clinging awkwardly to the side of the bed -- unable to fall completely off with how he was restrained, but unwilling to fully climb back on until his mind calmed down enough to realize he wasn't in immediate danger.

"I can't believe it's a freaking cat," he muttered shakily, scoffing at his own overreaction. He was absolutely pathetic to lose his composure over an eight-pound feline. He'd acted like he was about to be literally murdered.

Villain sheepishly hauled himself back onto the bed so he wasn't dangling halfway over the edge anymore, cautiously creeping closer to extend a hand for the cat to sniff, trying to gauge if it was the friendly type, or the type to claw your eyes out.

The cat was a calico, long-haired and fluffy with a small nick in one ear. It hesitantly leaned its head forward to sniff Villain's offered hand, examining him before finally letting its fur lie flat again, deeming him not a threat.

"Uh, hi," Villain whispered quietly. "Can I... are you the pettable type?" He put his hand a little closer to the calico to see how it would react, and the feline bumped it with its head approvingly, starting to purr like a motor.

Villain let himself relax, forcing his racing heartbeat to calm down.

Just a cat, he reminded himself firmly. It's just a cat. I'm okay.

He shifted himself to lie down on his back, gently stroking the cat's silky soft fur with his uncuffed hand to figure out what it liked best.

The furry creature padded across the sheets to sit right next to him, kneading the fabric with its paws and purring loudly.

The faintest ghost of a smile passed over Villain's lips, there and gone again, the first time he'd truly smiled since his capture. He used to have a cat of his own, before he'd been caught by Hero and turned in to Agency. He really missed that lil' guy, but fortunately he'd been an outdoor cat at the time of Villain's capture -- so Villain knew his beloved pet had found a way to survive on the streets without his owner to care for him.

The calico he was petting apparently liked head scratches best, and it wasn't long before the fluffy animal curled up against Villain's side to nap.

The cat was a reassuring presence for Villain, its rhythmic purring like white noise, soothing his panic bit by bit.

"You're a pretty cool kitty, aren't you?" He murmured absent-mindedly. "Thanks for tolerating me and sticking around.”

He loosed a heavy sigh, closing his eyes to rest – but not to sleep, because sleep meant letting his guard down, and he needed to be alert enough at all times to obey orders at the drop of a hat. Sleeping was risky, because it meant he might miss things. But he really needed to rest after today to recover both mentally and physically, so he allowed himself a break.

As long as he didn't fully fall asleep, he'd be fine.

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @togzy

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@starz8nk @redwinesupanover @whumpisgoodwhumpislife @theforeverdyingperson @writing-with-olive

@f1sh-bone @basica11ywhumped

[ray935sworld]

Thai hotel (Marcmarc)

Bez was skipping through the hotel in Thailand. He was walking down the corridor, wanting to leave to head to his own hotel.

He was currently in the hotel Ducati had booked, his own was just a few houses down the road, barely a minute to walk.

He and the boys had spend some time together. They had been hanging around in Pecco's room, having dinner and just talking like they often did.

It was a relaxed atmosphere. No mention of the practice sessions the next day, the quali, spring or race. Nothing that could indicate that there was a race weekend going on. Just talk and laughter and jokes.

At some point they decided to call it a night since they still had to wake up early. Luca had already left to spend some time face timing Marta and telling Angelina a story.

Franky was in an elevator to his floor while Bez crossed the floor. It was an open secret that they were hanging around at each other's hotels regularly. It probably wouldn't even be a problem.

It just had become a habit of theirs to keep it a secret. It started with Vale telling them that they weren't allowed in each other's hotel rooms, a lie to keep them from staying up at night, talking shit or playing games, so they could focus on the race. But it just ended in then sneaking around.

Now, years later, they were still sneaking around, well aware that it had been a lie. But it was fun.

So Bez left, very silently, carefully looking in every floor before passing through it quickly. It was a game, really. He couldn't imagine that Davide or Gigi said something about it

He was currently quickly passing through one of the corridors when suddenly a hand grabbed him.

It was such a short moment.

At first he yelped in surprise. He didn't think much of it at first. Then he realized he was supposed to be alone. For a moment, his fight or flight instinct kicked in. Panic hit him.

He was pulled back, he felt like there was nothing else he could do. He turned around, full on ready to break whoevers nose. He wanted to turn around and just punch. He wanted to scream. Fight.

Then he saw who it was. He saw a smile flash over his face as he winked at him. He was still pulling him towards the door, but now Marco made a few quick steps to him.

One last time he looked the corridor up and down. No one. Alone. No one had seen them.

He entered and the next moment, he felt the door close again. He knew it was closed. Really closed. Because he got shoved against it.

"There you are" his boyfriend whispered, his hands on his shoulders, keeping him in place. His fingers felt hot even though the fabric. "I missed you" with that he had Marc's lips on his.

Bez let it happen. Now that he knew he was with Marc, he knew he was safe. He'd let anything happen. He let his lips part slightly, his mouth hung open as he accepted the kiss.

"Mi-Missed you - t-too" he whispered between breathes. They only took short breaks in between kisses, just enough to breath and smile. "Missed you too" Marc replied again.

His hands had gone up to Marcos face, cradling his cheeks. He felt the smooth skin there. He hadn't know his boyfriend had chaved pre flight so that had definitely been a surprise.

He felt the skin, warm and soft. He could feel a few stubbles coming through again.

Bez felt Marc's breath on his body. He was so close he could almost feel the heat coming from him. He loved it.

He felt his finger on his shirt, pulling the collar to the side. He leaned forward and kissed Marc's head. He heard him chuckle before he felt lips on his collarbone. Another kiss. Actually a very long one that would definitely cause a bruise.

Not that Bez cared. At least it was under the shirt so he could hide it easily. But it was there. Still.

"I haven't seen you in forever" Marc muttered as he kissed Marco again. Bez just whined nodding. They hadn't seen each other since the Sunday before when Marc left Italy to pack and spent a few more days with his parents.

"Fuck, you're so hot. Had to see you all day in your tight leathers and shorts and I wasn't allowed to touch you. Watched you stick your tongue out for every camera. Hell, you really showed yourself off there, letting them see your tongue. But no one knows what it feels like on skin. Or how skillfull you are with it. No one beside me. I just wanted to put it to some good use."

Bez felt his hands go under his shirt and he just let his head fall back. He felt his fingers touching his abs as he pressed another kiss on his throat. He bit his lips, trying to stifle a moan.

"Eh? Would you have liked that? I just wanted to go down to the Aprillia garage, sit on your lap and kiss you. You would have liked that?" "Yes. Yes please" "Please? Oh what a good boy you are"

Now he actually moaned. "Marc" he whispered. "Marc, Marc-" "It's okay..." The Spaniard replied. His voice was suddenly softer. "I'm hear, mi amore. I'm right here."

He leaned froward, kissing him again. He felt Bez arms going around him and suddenly he was lifting him up. He just smiled, letting it happen. Normally he didn't being randomly picked up. But this was Bez. Bez could pick him up and carry him whenever he wanted.

He kissed him again, as they went to the bed. Bez laid him down there before going in himself for a cuddle. He was wrapped around him, holding him close while putting his head on his chest. He was laying just under his chin, looking up at Marc with big brown eyes.

"Marc" he said. "Marco." he replied, letting his hand slide through his curls. They weren't as long as they uses to. He missed it but he knew Bez liked them like that so he didn't tell him.

"You grabbed me." "I did." "You said Alex was with you." Marc chuckled. Yes his brother had been here prior but when his boyfriend texted him he'd leave to head to bed, he had another idea and quickly said goodnight to his brother.

"And you were with your friends. But when you texted you'd go to bed I threw him out so I could kidnap you from the floor. I spend the last 5 minutes or so looming in my door to see you pass through." He kissed his forehead. "Hope I didn't scare you"

"Marc." he said again. "I'm here. I'm right here" "I know." he sighed as he let himself fall down. "Finally. I missed you" "I missed you too." He heard the younger one exhale slowly.

"Tomorrow... When.... We go racing again..." he began and Marc nodded shortly. Free practice wasn't far away anymore. "Promise me to be careful. I know - you're the best rider on the grid but - just be careful. Promise me."

He felt a pang to his heart. He never actually understood why. Marco knew why he risked so much. He knew what it was like. He knew what it was for.

Maybe that was why he hated it so much. Being asked by someone who didn't understand why he did all that was one thing. But someone who knew first hand why they risked so much asking him to be careful - if felt deeper.

It felt like Bez saw the possibility of race wins, podiums, championships and wanted to chose Marc over all that. He felt honored.

"I promise you." he replied and looked deep in his eyes. "I promise you I will be as careful as possible. I swear it by every string of faith tying us together. By every sprinkle of color in your eyes... You won't lose me."

He wrapped him closer in his hug. He needed to feel him. Right there.

Marc felt the Italians muscle give in. His body was slowly going limp, completely relaxing. Marc might not admit it out loud but he loved this part. He was able to watch hid boyfriend completly relax and so far he had only see him that relaxed when he was in his arm.

"I fought so hard to get to you" he whispered. "I'm not leaving you. Not for anything. I promise. I love you too much" he told him. "I love you too"

[marigold-hills]

Dunes & Waters, part 44

PART 1 • PREVIOUS PART • NEXT PART

They get the water.

Remus fills a glass bottle he steamed clean before leaving, corks it and puts a charm on it so it doesn’t spill. Sirius is already Padfoot, running in and out of the Nile, accosting passers-by’s and making children laugh. A little one gets prompted by his parents to ask Remus permission, then spends half an hour throwing a stick which Padfoot fetches each and every time. It’s a lovely day. They’re just north of Aswan, where the Nile historically began to flood before promanades were built and agriculture evolved into no longer needing the natures’ assistance.

There’s something sad about it, even while it’s amazing, how the people living there moved forward and harnessed what before was out of their control. Still, Remus can’t help but look at the water with a nostalgia for things which came and went before his time: for five thousand years, people came to the river for help with their crops. Prayed to it, made up gods for it. Now, the river is just that. Beautiful, but not much but a geological attraction.

“Your dog is very well behaved,” the family says when the child has had enough of running around with Padfoot. “What did you use to train him?”

“He came to me like that,” Remus tells them because anything else that springs to mind is not appropriate for polite conversation.

He sits on the grass. Padfoot lays at his feet, head resting on his thigh, eyes closed. The Nile is in front of them, the New Aswan City Amphitheater behind.

“The Nile was a way into the afterlife, you know?” Remus tells the dog. It focuses on him. “A causeway from life to death. Where Osiris drowned, but also where all life comes from.”

A soft huff from the dog, and Remus knows Sirius well enough to know it means keep going. Tell me more.

“I think I know what the potion does,” Remus pets through the dark mane on the dogs head, “I’ve got the translation… not fully, but I’ve got the gist of it. She wrote about control, and regaining it. When the moon is full, before you are made into beast, drink. The gods will speak to Osiris for you. If he’s so willing, forever the night will be yours to command.”

The dog pushes its mouth into Remus. 

“I don’t know why I didn’t tell you. No, that’s a lie. You can always tell anyway. We should write to Kingsley. You’re done with what you were supposed to do. And I’ve been keeping you here, pointlessly. Keeping you from going home. Just… well, the translation was something I could still pretend I needed your help with, but it’s just unfair on you, and I’m sorry. I really, I am, Sirius -”

He’s cut off. The dog becomes a man. There is no one around them, but Remus still panics. 

Hands on his face, Sirius stops him from talking. 

“I’m not done with you yet,” he says. “You think I didn’t realise we were almost finished? Remus, you’re not keeping me here. I’m staying here, whatever my conditions of release were, because I want to be.” Sirius kisses so softly like it could show he’s honest and Remus breaks, just a little bit, because he fretted for nothing. They still have time. Not much of it, but it’s there. Sirius isn’t leaving.

“The translation. Tell me.”

“Follow in the footsteps of Osiris, beloved one, but beware. There is a price to be paid for chance of freedom - the price of rebirth is wading through death. If gods do not favour in your way, the path of return will be lost.”

They sit in silence, Sirius with the frown between his eyebrows he always gets when deep in thought. “So it is about the transformation.”

“It is. I think… well, I think it’s meant to make it so the werewolf doesn’t lose control. It sounds like once you drink, you stay in your mind forever.”

“It sounds like it’s warning you of something. The price of rebirth is death,” Sirius speaks cautiously. Moves himself away to get a better look at Remus. “And I checked, red lotus and acacia both symbolise rebirth. You weren’t planning on drinking it, were you?”

And Remus knows better than to lie, so he stays quiet.

“Remus. My love. Darling. You can’t be… this is an ancient potion we got the recipe for out of an artefact. It’s not tested. Surely you know I wouldn’t let you.”

“You can’t be surprised that I would be tempted.”

“Tempted is one thing,” Sirius runs frustrated fingers through his hair. “But to actually consider it? It’s not worth it. Even if it wasn’t for the fact that it could be a very old practical joke a couple thousand years in the making, it literally has a warning on the label. The path to return will be lost, you said.”

“That could mean anything.”

“Or it could mean that you die, Remus.”

They both sit with the words. The sun softly sets over the Nile.

“I won’t make it if it’s for anything else than research,” Sirius says. “You can’t make me contribute to you hurting yourself.”

Remus lays his head on Sirius’ shoulder, half expecting to be pushed off. Instead, a hand cradles through his hair, fingers get lost in curls frizzy from the day spent by a late body of water.

“Fine,” he agrees, because he can’t imagine a world in which he’d willingly push Sirius away.

There will be ways to test it, he thinks. To check whether it works, what it does, what the warning really means. If death is, in fact, a condition of the potion and rebirth just the optional outcome. 

NEXT PART

@tealeavesandtrash

@moon-girl88

@hoje--aqui

@cocoabutterandbooks

@onion-sliced-apples

@prancingpony42

@digital-kam

@remoonysiriusly

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(let me know if you do/don’t want to be tagged!)

[zeroseuniverse]

Doctor Doctor!

Word Count: 1.2K Summary: “They’re here for you,” she said, her voice steady despite the panic around them. “I know.” Pairing: Yoongi X FEM Reader

Disclaimer: Please be aware that this is apart of the from the ashes series. This series will have aspects of violence, weapons, angst, blood, injuries, killing, and will heavily focus on oppression and segregation of mutants, Look after your mental state if any of these make you uncomfortable please.

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The sound of rain against shattered glass was the only noise in the clinic, save for the soft hum of electricity sparking through Yoongi’s fingertips. He pressed his hand gently against the woman’s chest, her blood soaking into his sleeves as he willed her heart to stabilize. The faint blue glow of his bioelectric energy pulsed beneath his palm, knitting torn tissues together. Her breathing, once shallow and ragged, began to even out. He didn’t pause to wipe the sweat from his brow.

“You’re lucky,” he muttered under his breath, his voice gravelly from hours without rest. “Luckier than most.”

The woman—barely conscious—groaned softly but didn’t respond. Yoongi sat back on his heels, his eyes scanning her face. Dirt and blood streaked her features, and the torn fabric of her gear spoke volumes about the chaos she had fled. Rogue operative, by the looks of her. The resistance had no shortage of fighters like her: determined, reckless, and always one step away from death.

When she’d stumbled into his clinic hours earlier, clutching her side and glaring at him like a feral animal, he’d nearly turned her away. The only thing stopping him had been the desperation in her eyes—a plea she hadn’t voiced aloud. He knew that kind of desperation too well.

Yoongi stood, the ache in his knees reminding him how long he’d been crouched. He flicked his fingers, letting the residual energy dissipate into the air, and reached for a clean cloth to wipe his hands. She’d live, but the deeper wounds—the ones invisible to the eye—were another matter entirely. He didn’t need to ask to know she carried scars that even his powers couldn’t touch.

When the woman finally stirred, her gaze darted around the room before settling on him. Her body tensed, muscles coiling like a spring, despite the obvious pain it caused her.

“Where…” Her voice cracked. She swallowed hard, trying again. “Where am I?”

“Somewhere safe,” Yoongi replied, his tone flat. “You’ll live, no thanks to your terrible survival instincts.”

Her brows furrowed at his words, her suspicion cutting through the haze of exhaustion. “Who are you?”

“Someone who doesn’t have time for twenty questions,” he said, walking past her to check on another patient. “Rest. You need it.”

“I don’t…” She winced, trying to push herself upright. “I don’t trust you.”

Yoongi glanced over his shoulder, his expression impassive. “Good. Keeps you alive. Now lie down before you undo my work.”

She hesitated, clearly weighing her options, but the weakness in her limbs won out. Reluctantly, she eased back onto the cot, her wary eyes never leaving him.

Over the following days, the woman—lingered in the clinic longer than Yoongi expected. He didn’t ask why; people like her always had their reasons. Her wounds healed quickly under his care, though her distrust remained a barrier between them. She watched him work with the same intensity she’d likely used to survive on the battlefield, her sharp gaze taking in everything: the way his hands glowed faintly when he touched his patients, the careful precision in his movements, the exhaustion he tried and failed to hide.

“Why do you do this?” she asked one evening, breaking the silence that had settled between them.

Yoongi didn’t look up from the child he was treating, his hands emitting a soft light as he mended a deep gash on the boy’s leg. “Because someone has to.”

“That’s not an answer,” she pressed. Her tone was challenging, but there was curiosity beneath it.

He sighed, sitting back as the glow faded. “People come here because they have nowhere else to go. The world’s already taken everything from them. I…” He paused, his jaw tightening. “I’ve seen enough death. If I can stop even a little of it, then that’s what I’ll do.”

She didn’t reply immediately. When she finally spoke, her voice was softer. “And what about you? Who takes care of you?”

Yoongi froze, her words striking a nerve he hadn’t expected. He turned his gaze to her, his dark eyes unreadable. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

She held his stare, unflinching. “Maybe you should.”

Slowly, Yoongi allowed her into his world, sharing fragments of his past in stolen moments between tending to patients and repairing equipment. In turn, she offered pieces of her own story, her walls crumbling bit by bit. They found an unspoken understanding in each other, both burdened by guilt and driven by a need to make things right.

One night, she approached him as he sat at the battered piano in the corner of the clinic, his fingers ghosting over the keys. The melody he played was haunting, each note heavy with emotion. She leaned against the frame of the door, listening in silence until the final chord faded into the air.

“You’re full of surprises,” she said, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

Yoongi glanced at her, his expression softer than usual. “Music was my first escape. Before all of this.”

She moved closer, her eyes meeting his. “Maybe it doesn’t have to be just an escape anymore.”

He looked at her for a long moment, something unspoken passing between them. For the first time in years, Yoongi allowed himself to believe in the possibility of sanctuary—not just for others, but for himself.

Their quiet reprieve was shattered when the Corps found them. It started with a low rumble in the distance, a sound that made Yoongi’s stomach twist. By the time the first explosion rocked the outer walls of the clinic, he was already moving, his body acting on instinct. Patients screamed as the walls shook, dust and debris falling from the ceiling.

“Y/N!” Yoongi’s voice cut through the chaos as he grabbed supplies and rushed toward her. She was already on her feet, gun in hand, her eyes sharp and focused.

“They’re here for you,” she said, her voice steady despite the panic around them.

“I know.”

She hesitated, her gaze softening for a moment. “We’re not leaving them behind.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” Yoongi replied. He thrust a pack into her hands. “Help me get them out.”

The next minutes were a blur of motion and noise. Yoongi worked to stabilize the most critical patients, his powers straining as he pushed them further than he ever had before. She coordinated the able-bodied, her voice cutting through the chaos like a blade as she directed them to safer parts of the ruins.

When the soldiers breached the main hall, Yoongi stepped forward, his hands crackling with energy. “Get them out of here,” he told her, his tone leaving no room for argument.

She didn’t move. “I’m not leaving you.”

Yoongi turned to her, something fierce and unyielding in his eyes. “You have to. They won’t stop until they have me.”

“Then we fight.”

The words hung in the air for a moment before Yoongi nodded. Together, they faced the incoming threat, their determination unshaken. Yoongi’s bioelectric energy lit up the room, a stark contrast to the darkness that surrounded them. Her bullets found their marks with precision, her movements fluid and unrelenting.

They fought not just for themselves but for the lives they had sworn to protect. And as the battle raged on, their resolve only grew stronger. They would not surrender. Not now, not ever.

[gleefullypolin]

Stacy's Tipsy Musing's – Penelope Bridgerton Hot Takes - Part 2

Ok boys and girls, we need to have a little chat about Penelope Bridgerton.

Part 2 has been out now for a couple of days and there have been a lot of hot takes to come out of the season. A LOT of hot takes. I’m going to break this down into 4 parts like I did for Colin ((Part 1, 2, 3, 4, Bonus). 4 questions that I'm seeing really bad hot takes about Penelope.

Not surprising I see lots of hot takes about Pen, because either A) people cannot handle a woman complex emotions and facets, B) hate on a woman who does not fit societal norms and standards or C) are stans who refuse to see that all characters have imperfections which make them even more delicious to watch.

Last time we talked about Colin’s entrapment statement to Pen and her reaction to it.  Question 1, now lets get to question 2:

Why didn’t Pen tell Colin about Lady Whistledown after X? (The Carriage, their first time, in the carriage after their first time, during the engagement party, when he gave her the engagement ring, after El met with her and she decided to write the column to protect the Bridgerton’s)

Ok first off let’s be honest, mistakes were made. But let’s also say...some of these moments were not exactly the right time either. So, let’s take each of these one by one.

The carriage, night of their engagement...Ok whoever thought this was a good night is literally insane. Pen was seriously bombarded one evening with not one but two proposals. She was expecting to be proposed to by Lord Debling, had her best friend barge into their dance and ruin said proposal, chase her carriage down, profess that he had feelings for her, finger bang her in said carriage, and then spring a proposal on her. She’s at this point shell shocked with emotion. Now she’s staring down the Bridgerton’s who are literally squeezing the air out of her in love and hugs on one side, and on the other glaring at her and spewing literal vitriol at her that Colin cannot possibly love her if he knows the real her. This is NOT the night this confession would have taken place.

Moving on to their first time. Another moment of shell shock for Penelope. Colin professes to her mother that he proposed to Pen out of love, standing up to her in front of her mother and then taking her to the place that is to be their home. They then make love for her first time in what I would say is every girl’s dream first time because damn girl. Yes! Now I would argue that this would have been the perfect time afterwards to tell Colin, and Pen had the same thought as I believe had they not been interrupted she would have told him. Now I think she could have still tried to tell him as they were getting ready to leave but honestly once the staff arrived, the time was gone.

Ok moving on to the carriage ride after their first time. Here is the second time that she had to actually tell him her secret. This was a great opportunity for her to talk to him. They were alone, it was private. The Queen’s notice did cause her to panic. But I do believe this was a mistake on Pen’s part. While the Queen’s notice going after LW and Colin’s hatred toward LW gave her pause, telling him the truth was the right play here. But she was scared, and she did not make the move and the time passed. Her moment was gone.

During the Engagement party. Ok this one is the most laughable one. El’s demand that she tells him by midnight was the most laughable thing I had ever seen. It was ridiculous to think that in the middle of a busy party with everyone around she was going to unload this giant secret with so many eyes and ears around. There was no way this was going to be where she did it. Point. Blank. Period.

When Colin gives her the engagement ring. Ok this one is where I have a bit of beef with Pen. This is where Lady Whistledown actually tells a lie. He asks her directly why she has ink all over her hands and Pen pulls back and tells him she is writing letters. It is the first time she lies directly to Colin. She’s not withholding secrets; she is directly lying to him. I give Pen a lot of grace in her secret. I gave her a lot of leeway, but this was the one time I looked at the screen and yelled NO PEN NO! But with Portia in the room, this was not when she was going to reveal her secret either.

So that takes to us the night that Eloise comes to Pen because Cressida has revealed herself as LW and is now writing a column and Eloise is worried it will ruin her and her family. Pen decides she is going to write a column because Whistledown is power. Now I know this is not a moment with Colin, but this is the moment that causes her to be caught by Colin. If only this had been the moment that they decided that now was the time to involve Colin because that would have been my dream right here for them to pull him in, let him know the secret, and the rest of the show would have been the 3 of them trying to figure out what to do, but alas, they did not, and I will have to live in fanfiction for this alternative reality.

And so here we are, she did not tell him, and he watched her leave the ballroom with El, the same person whom she was not speaking with for the last year who were seen leaving together hand in hand, and he followed her. And instead of her being able to tell him herself, instead of being able to come clean, her secret was laid bare as a deception to be discovered.

Stick around for part 3....

Why didn’t Show!Pen give up Lady Whistledown like Book!Pen did?

[drewinlace]

📚 One-Shot: “Bruised Knuckles, Softer Hearts”

Pairing: Sibling!JJ Maybank x YoungerSibling!Reader

cw: child abuse, alcohol mention, physical violence (non-graphic), emotional trauma, guilt, broken promises

Word Count: ~1.5k

Summary: You believed JJ when he said he’d be back before their dad got home. You really did. But he didn’t come. And now it’s too late.

————————————————————————

It was almost 9:30 when you started to worry.

JJ had said he’d be home by 8. Just a quick run to the Chateau, maybe dinner on the dock with the Pogues. He’d promised—promised—he wouldn’t be long. You both knew how dangerous it was to leave you home alone, not with the chance of your dad coming back. Not with how he gets after drinking.

But 8 turned into 8:30. Then 9.

And when you heard the front door open—keys fumbling, followed by a muttered curse and the unmistakable crash of a bottle hitting the floor—you knew it wasn’t JJ.

It was him.

You froze on the couch, blanket clenched in your fists like it could protect you. Your breath caught in your throat as the heavy footfalls grew louder, uneven, dragging. You could smell the liquor before you saw him.

Luke Maybank stumbled into the living room, eyes bloodshot and unfocused. His shirt was half unbuttoned, and he was already yelling before he even looked at you.

“Where the hell is your brother?” he slurred.

You swallowed hard. “I—I don’t know. He said he’d be home—”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not,” you whispered. “I swear.”

He looked at you like he didn’t even recognize you. And maybe in that moment, he didn’t. He only saw JJ. Or your mother. Or some ghost of what he lost. Whatever it was—it made him angry.

Too angry.

His hand shot out, fast and mean, grabbing your wrist so tight it felt like your bones might snap. You cried out, tears springing to your eyes, but he only squeezed harder.

“You’re just like him. Just another useless mouth in this house.”

You yanked back, stumbling, breath hitching from the sting. “Please don’t—”

But he wasn’t listening. His backhand caught your cheek hard enough to knock you sideways, and you hit the floor with a choked sob.

It didn’t last long. It never did. Just enough to remind you who was in control.

Just enough to hurt.

And then, like always, he stormed off to his room, slamming the door behind him, leaving you on the floor with the pain and the silence.

————————————————————————

You didn’t hear the front door open again until almost ten. And by then, you were curled up on the kitchen floor, hand pressed to your bruised cheek, your other arm cradling your ribs. Every part of you ached—physically, emotionally, everywhere in between.

“Hey, hey, hey—” JJ’s voice was breathless. He dropped to his knees beside you like gravity yanked him down. “Shit—what happened? What happened?!”

You flinched away from his touch, voice breaking. “You were supposed to be home.”

“I know. I know, I’m sorry—, I’m so sorry—”

“I waited, JJ!” You shoved him away, weak but furious. “I waited like you told me to. I sat here thinking you’d be back. I trusted you—I trusted you!”

JJ’s face crumpled, panic written in every line. He reached for you again, slower this time, hands shaking. “Did he—was it Luke?”

You looked away, blinking through the sting of tears. “Who else, JJ?”

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His jaw tightened, throat bobbing with a swallow that looked painful. You could see it—the rage boiling up beneath the surface, the guilt pulling him apart. He stood abruptly, pacing, fists clenched at his sides.

“I swear to God, I’ll kill him.”

“Yeah?” you snapped, bitter. “Before or after he does it to me again?”

JJ stopped dead in his tracks, like the words physically hit him.

He turned slowly, eyes glistening. “Don’t say that. Don’t—you can’t say that.”

You stood too, swaying slightly. “You left me here. You knew what could happen. But you still left.”

“I didn’t mean to—” his voice cracked. “I lost track of time, I didn’t think—I thought I had more time.”

You exhaled, cold and shaking. “You never do, JJ. Not with him.”

And for the first time, maybe JJ really heard it. The finality in your voice. The quiet heartbreak.

He crossed the space between you and dropped to his knees again, wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his face in your side like he was twelve years old again and scared of the dark.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, again and again. “I’m so, so sorry.”

You didn’t move. Didn’t hug him back.

But you didn’t push him away either.

｡･:˚:✧｡ ｡✧:˚:･ﾟ✧｡｡･:˚:✧｡ ｡✧:˚:･ﾟ✧｡｡･:˚:✧｡｡✧:˚:･ﾟ

I cried a bit writting this..😓

[sassenashsworld]

Preston at Sanctuary

(because he deserves a counterpart more than anyone else)

The List

At first, Preston can’t even sleep. He can’t. He doesn’t even dare to enter a building. He patrols the outskirts of Sanctuary, never letting his guard down, always on the lookout for any signs of danger that might threaten the community.

Five.

Only five survived the Quincy escape.

Five.

The haunting visions of settlers and Minutemen falling, one after another, just won't leave his mind...

Five.

It’s been five days since they took refuge in Sanctuary, and he still can’t let go of his musket.

Five...

He stands in front of one of the ruined houses in Sanctuary. He looks lost in thoughts. He hasn’t been able to rest. He has been working non-stop to secure the settlement, but the ghosts of Quincy linger in his thoughts, a constant reminder of the past days.

He heard the gunshots, the screams, the footsteps running in their back. Their breaths heavy, the gunners closing in, the unsettling gurgling and gargling of feral ghouls echoing around them, panic setting in as they scramble to escape, and the screams, always, piercing through the chaos once more.

Cries of terror, cries of suffering, cries of despair...

He can’t shake off the memories. They keep running through his thoughts, never stopping, always there.

He shuts his eyes tight and gives his head a firm shake, attempting to push it all away.

“No… no…”

A sudden movement catches his attention, prompting him to spin around and lift his weapon, ready for anything.

“Woh boss!!”

It's only Sturges. With a heavy sigh, he lowers the musket.

“What is it?” He inquires.

The man looks at him, concern etched across his face.

“Hey there, you holding up alright? You seem a bit off, friend. When's the last time you caught some shut eye?”

Preston gazes upward in thought.

“The eve of the slaughter.”

The mechanic gives a disapproving look at that response.

“By the stars… Preston, you ought to take a breather. You've been at it without a break since we got here. So, when was the last time you had a bite to eat?”

The Minutemen lifts his brows in surprise. He is a bit uncertain about it. He ought to have eaten. At a moment. Surely. Yes. He has. The first evening at Sanctuary. Sole has managed to scrounge up some tatoes from a nearby farm, and Marcy has prepared some a stew of some kind. Did he eat it?

Sturges clenches his jaw, a heavy weight settling in his chest as he sees just how exhausted and lost his friend has turned.

“Crap… So, you ain't had a bite to eat, huh?” He places a hand on Preston’s shoulder. “You ought to grab som’thin’.”

Preston’s gaze falls to the dirt, and his shoulders droop. He ain’t gonna lie about it. He's been pushing through on nothing but grit and determination, refusing to back down. But now, the weariness is finally catching up to him. He’s feeling a bit under the weather.

He draws in a deep breath, nodding with a sense of resolve.

“Yeah… Look like I could use some food. Perhaps a little rest wouldn’t hurt either...”

The mechanic grins and gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“Alright then. I'll whip up some grub for you. You take it easy now, chief.”

The other gives another nod. He's too worn out to put up a fight.

He slowly makes his way toward one of the ruined houses, stepping inside. This place may be a wreck, but it’s still got more to offer than being empty. It will amply suffice for now.

He sinks down to the ground, resting his back against the wall, too weary to find better. Exhaustion weighs heavily on him, and he gradually succumbs to a fitful slumber. But then, the sharp crack of a gunshot jolts him awake.

He springs to his feet, bolts into the street, and searches for the source of the noise.

The settlement looks calm and quiet, but that gunshot had to come from somewhere nearby. Preston readies his musket and surveys the area with a keen eye.

Everything is just... still.

There is nothing.

All clear. No threats in sight.

Not a single shot fired.

No sounds of suffering…

No enemies.

Preston scans the area again, searching for anything unusual. But everything seems normal. He scowls and brings his weapon down.

“What in the world...”

He stands there, ears perked, ready to catch any hint of movement or noise that might break the stillness.

As Sturges returns with a bowl of tato soup, he notices Preston still standing in the middle of the street, alert. He approaches with the soup. He can see the strain etched on his friend’s expression.

“What's going on, boss?”

“Sounds like trouble! I just heard a gunshot!” Preston, in a state of near panic, searches for the source of the threat. “Did you catch where that noise was coming from?”

Sturges seem uneasy.

“There wasn’t a... single shot fired. At all...”

Preston gazes at Sturges, his expression a blend of bewilderment and subtle alarm.

“Huh? No, I... I swear, I heard a shot ring out. I just heard a shot ring out not too long ago.”

Sturges gives him a worried glance, his brow furrowed with uncertainty.

“Could be you were just lost in a dream? Well, I gotta say, I didn't catch a single thing. And I was just there, you know?”

Realization drowns on Preston. He finds himself reaching the end of his rope. He now hallucinates, and it's shaking him to the core. A surge of unease and dread grips him tightly. He paces back and forth, seeking to steady his nerves. But he can't let his guard down. He can't lose the little he has saved. He can't...

His breath catches every time he attempts to talk himself out of his worry. He can't shake off the torment that settles deep in his bowel.

“No, no, no... I can't... I can't let this happen. I must keep going... I've got to ensure this place stays secure…”

His breath comes in sharp gasps, and his heart pounds like a drum. It seems like everything is slipping through his fingers...

He glances around the settlement, his gaze shifting anxiously from one corner to another. He can’t trust his own mind anymore. He can’t even tell what’s real and what’s not. The pressure and unease swelling within him are almost too much to bear. He’s on the edge, ready to break at any moment.

Sturges places a steady hand on his back, rubbing it to ground him, offering a sense of comfort amidst the chaos he is feeling in himself.

“Hey, I’ll get Marcy and Jung to check out the settlement while you catch some Z’s. Two folks will be keeping watch. Everything's gonna be just fine.”

Preston gazes at the man, exhaustion carved on his face, a hint of anxiety in his eyes.

“I... I ain't sure I can catch any sleep. What if another vision comes creeping in on me? What if I can't figure out what's genuine and what's just a mirage?”

Sturges places the bowl of soup in his hands and gestures toward the house from which he had just stepped out.

“Sole's gone and set up some turrets around this place. Marcy and Jung will keep watch. You take this soup and fill that belly of yours, then you catch some shut eyes on that bed in the back of this place, got it?”

His friend takes the bowl of soup, examining at it for a moment as if he was minding what it could be. He finally looks back at Sturges, the exhaustion still etched on his features.

“I... I’ll give it a shot... but I can’t promise I’ll find any rest.” He draws in a deep breath, then gives a slow, deliberate nod. “Okay... I’ll have the soup and then catch some rest, sound good?”

“Alright. In the meantime, we keep at it, just like always. If anything comes up, I’ll make sure to rouse you. Don't you worry about a thing. Just... take a breather.”

Preston gives again a slow, thoughtful nod.

“Alright... I'll give it a shot.” He gazes back at the bowl of soup cradled in his hands, contemplating its warmth. “Appreciate it, Sturges... I can't imagine getting by without you."

Even though it's just soup, he finds it hard to get it down. When he finally gets it done, he decides to follow the advice of Sturges and makes his way to the back room.

He lifts an eyebrow, taken aback.

This room, in stark contrast to the rest of the house, has undergone some serious cleaning. A somewhat wobbly bed, but luxurious in terms of the Commonwealth, has been installed. It’s quite the upgrade. The scent of change is wafting the air.

But Preston can hardly enjoy it.

He takes off the shoulder strap of his musket, leans the weapon against the bed's frame, prepared for any situation, and then carefully climbs onto the creaky mattress.

Rather comfortable...

He stretches out on the bed, seeking to ease both his body and his thoughts. But it's tough. His worries and fears keep swirling around. He can't shake off those eerie whispers, and his mind is conjuring up visions that just won't quit.

He shifts onto his side, trying to find a comfortable position. He can’t relax; his anxieties just won’t let up. He can't shake the memories of everyone he lost back in Quincy. The memories of their faces and the painful sounds of their cries and the gunfire. It's all too much...

He closes his eyes tightly, battling to shove those thoughts aside. He wants to rest. It’s what he truly needs right now, be feels like he’s trapped in hell with no way out.

His mind is a maelstrom of fear and anguish.

Despite the fatigue weighing him down, he can't shut it all. He can’t find peace. Every time he drifts off to sleep, another nightmarish hallucination jolts him awake.

Then, at a moment he can't quite place, something shifts.

He opens his eyes, feeling a little groggy and disoriented. He takes a moment to get his bearings and realize where he is. He glances at the window and notes that the darness has now fallen on the settlement.

He feels almost as exhausted, but there is a slight improvement. He can't deny it; he should have gotten some hours of rest in his body, and he feels already better in some senses.

He raises a hand to his forehead, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes. He feels still far from rested. However, he can't deny that he did get some sleep, even if it was just a drop of hours.

He sits up on the bed, blinking away the last remains of sleep. He picks up his musket from where he had placed it by the bed and checks the surroundings of the room. Everything is just as it should be, normal. It’s quiet out here. No echoes of gunfire or the moans of ghouls to be heard. He draws in a deep breath and slowly exhale, working to calm the storm inside him.

He's starting to get a grip on things now. But he knows the night is not over yet...

As he gets out of the house, Sturges is hanging around close by. He came his way immediately.

“You call it sleep? You were gone for a mere three hours.”

Preston lets out a heavy sigh and rubs a hand over his face in frustration.

“I attempted to find some peace, but it was a struggle. I hardly got a wink. Just kept seeing things that weren't there...” He casts a glance at his friend. “I’ve got a handful of hours, but it sure doesn’t seem like it’ll be enough...”

Sturges gives him a worried glance, like he's trying to figure out what's really going on in that head.

“You gotta take it easy, boss. You can't just keep pushing like this. It's not gonna end well. You're gonna wear thin if you don't look after yourself.”

A shout from Marcy diverts them from their conversation, and they dash with the same step towards the bridge of Sanctuary. Preston drops his gun, a look of surprise crossing his face as he sees it’s Sole coming back from the mission.

They've done it!

They've taken care of that old factory, driving out those raiders, and now they've got another settlement on their side with the Minutemen!

As soon as he hears the news, Preston feels a sense of liberation floods through him, lifting a weight off his shoulders.

“You actually pulled it off!? You really took care of those raiders and set up a new settlement? That’s impressive!” He can hardly wrap his mind around it. That news sparks a fire in his heart, igniting a sense of hope and thrill for what lies ahead. “You actually made it off... you made it happen!”

He’s grinning wide, and tears of relief starts to well up in his eyes. Sole lets out a hearty laugh and gives him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

“Of course we did it, Preston! We're the best team there is.”

Sturges too has a smile from ear to ear, giving Sole an enthusiastic stroke on the back, filled with pride.

“You really knocked it out of the park, Sole! Well, would you look at that! A fresh settlement has popped up in the team Minutemen! That's downright incredible!”

As they huddle around a fire for a warm evening meal, Preston finally feels it to enjoy his share of the food. It's just so delicious. His savior is sitting beside him, relishing their own portion of the Radstag they brought back for all the Quincy survivors to feast on.

“Hey there, I’ve been mulling over a thought...”

Sole takes a bite and gazes at Preston with curiosity.

“Yeah? What is it? Something on your mind?”

“Do you ever sense to truly belong to our cause? I believe you've got what it takes, no doubt about it.”

The vault dweller raises an eyebrow, caught off guard by the unexpected request. They weigh their words with caution before they let them out.

“You... you think so? I mean, I'm not sure I have what it takes. I'm just trying to survive, you know? I lack the training and the experience that you guys have.”

Preston lets out a light laugh.

“Are you talking about me? Because, you know, there ain't another one around. And I hate to break it to you, but you’ve done more than just survive. You’ve built a home for us all. You’ve lent a hand to another settlement in need. You’ve even taken out a whole nest of raiders! We owe you a lot. You’ve got what it takes to be a Minuteman, no doubt about it.”

Sole hesitates for a moment, weighing their options meticulously. They never judged it from that angle before.

“I guess...I guess you're right. When you put it like that, I guess I have been helping out a lot. But... I'm not sure about becoming a full-fledged Minuteman. That's a big responsibility—

They catch Preston's hopeful gaze and pauses, the words hanging in the air as they reconsider their next move.

“Okay. Okay, I sign up. It's fine!”

The Minutemen's face lights up with happiness.

“That's fantastic, General!”

The other nearly gags on the food, struggling to swallow.

“G-General? That's quit the promotion!”

Preston chuckles.

“You know, I’ve seen a lot of folks out there, but you’ve got something special. Folks are already gathering around you. Being the last one of the Minutemen, nobody can argue my choice.”

Sturges pipes up, his smile spreading across his face.

“You know, that’s a solid argument. You've got more guts and smarts than anyone I've come across out here. You've got the makings of a true leader!”

Sole glances at Sturges, then shifts their gaze to Preston, utterly bewildered.

“Are you sure about this? I'm just a normal person who's trying to survive.”

The Minutemen shakes his head, a warm smile on his face, as the mechanic puts a reassuring hand on the survivor's shoulder.

“Don’t underestimate yourself. You've got more in you than you think. You've got a real talent for rallying folks and sparking that fire in them, and let me tell you, that's worth more than any cap out there.”

When Sole finally gives in and accepts, and that Sturges brings out some bottles of beer by the fire, Preston almost sinks in in relief. He's got himself a new leader. He has a new General.

And he feels it, a solid one.

A fine, fine General of the Minutemen.

And before he realizes it, Preston doesn't only sink in.

He drifts off into a well-earned sleep.

[alloftheimaginesblog]

can't get you {sirius black}

requested by anon: Post!Azkaban Sirius except he absolutely refuses to go outside in the cold no matter how many jackets he has on bc it reminds him of the dementors in Azkaban and reader helps him work through it.

character: sirius black x reader

Even now five years after his escape from Azkaban, Sirius Black still struggled in his day-to-day life. Nightmares were still a regular occurrence for him as much as he tried to pretend they weren't. Each and every night Sirius would toss and turn, waking you up from your own sleep, and would end up leaping up panting and body shimmering in a cold sweat. He let you help him, let you hold him and let himself break down in the crook of your neck but to everyone else, he was fine; no nightmares, no PTSD, no trauma, no nothing.

There was one thing Sirius hadn't told you about his struggles. One thing he deemed silly and hardly necessary. He didn't want you to think he was weak so he hid it for as long as he could, always having an excuse up his sleeve until one day, his secret came out.

Sirius Black had a fear of the cold weather.

The fear didn't develop for a few years. One day it just... happened. He had been out with you one day, arms bare in the cool Autumn breeze, and all of a sudden the cool seeped into him, cooling down not only his skin but his blood, his organs, his everything. His breath had caught in his throat as his heart hammered. There was a ringing in his ears as his head whipped around - he was looking for it; looking for the Dementor. Why else would his whole body feel cold and dull? Why else would he be chilled to the bone? Yet, there was nothing. He was safe. You'd asked if he was okay, warm hand on his cool cheek which snapped him back to life.

The following day he had put on a jumper and a jacket, believing he had just made a poor outfit choice, but even then the cold crept into his chest like the tendrils of the Dementors and he couldn't... He couldn't face it.

So, he always made up a lie or an excuse to not face the cold.

"Head's quite sore today, love, I'd rather not."

"Moony's going to come here instead, easier that way."

"I don't feel like going out today."

Until one day when he had came out with you during spring time. The last three days had been temperatures of almost twenty degrees Celsius, positively lovely outside, so he had ventured out with you. At first, the weather was lovely with the sun splitting the sky but after lunch, things took a turn.

You were excitedly pulling Sirius down the street to bring him to the new vinyl record shop that had opened up when all of a sudden, he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Come on, Sirius," you grinned, turning back but quickly, your face fell as you saw his expression. His eyes were glazed over as he stared through you. The cold crept in, taking over his body and freezing him in place. He looked horrified at something but he wouldn't respond to you asking him if he was okay. You walked towards him, repeating his name a few times but still, no answer. Sirius's eyes closed, that ringing in his ears was back and he felt like he was under water; sinking to the depths of a freezing cold ocean, unable to hear and unable to breathe.

"Sirius!" You cried out, planting your warm hands on his cheeks and forcing his head to tilt to yours.

Warmth. Sirius could feel it, slowly defrosting him from the outside to the inside. He suddenly could swim, pushing himself up and away from the black tendrils of the Dementors that wanted so desperately to drown him. He swam upwards and managed to break the surface-

"C-Cold!" He spluttered out, choking as he gulped air into his lungs but the air was cold and it wasn't helping. He was beginning to panic, "So-So cold!"

"Here," you said as you hurriedly pulled your jacket off, draping it around his shoulders. You pulled it tight around him but he was babbling about it not being enough, that it was still too cold. Your attempts to rub his shoulders, trying to get heat into him was futile and you could tell he was panicking. You had to get him somewhere safe and somewhere warm.

"Come on," you grabbed his hand, which helped to ground him a little bit with your warmth, "it's not far. Can you walk?" Sirius nodded but he only managed to get about 100 yards before he froze again.

His head was whipping around wildly, "They-They're coming!" He hissed. Passers-by gave him odd glances, "(y/n), they're going to get me!"

"Who, Sirius?" You asked desperately trying to continue dragging him down the street. Grimmauld Place was another two hundred or so yards away, "Who's going to get you?"

"The... The- The Dementors." His voice was a strangled hiss as he looked at you, a crazed panic in his eyes.

You involuntary gave a small gasp, "Oh, Sirius," you whispered as your eyes flooded with tears, "they can't get you. They won't get you." You had no idea Sirius was affected this much. Of course you knew about his nightmares but he always seemed so... fine? But as you looked at him, trying to console him, you realised that maybe this is why he didn't like going out much. It was cold... like the Dementors. It all made sense. Your heart ached for him as you looked at his scared face, "Hey," you said strongly forcing yourself to be brave for him. He needed you to be strong, he needed you to be his strength in his moment of weakness. Again, you planted your hands on his cheeks, "you feel that? You feel how warm my hands are? Sirius, answer me." Sirius nodded, blinking a few times as though coming back to himself, "You're safe, Sirius. You're with me and the Dementors can't get you here. They're gone, not coming back for you. I know that you're cold but that doesn't mean they're coming to get you... They can't get you, Sirius, you hear me? You're safe."

He nodded and you gently took his hand and tugged him, "We need to get you home, Sirius. We'll put the fire on, get a blanket, some tea... We'll get you warmed up, okay?" He nodded again, "I need you to walk Sirius. I know you're cold and I know you're scared, I see how scared you are, baby, but I need you to trust me okay?"

His lip wobbled and his eyes filled with tears but he softly whispered, "O-Okay, I trust you." God you wanted to break down into tears but you couldn't, not yet. You had to get him home, make sure he warmed up and calmed down. You had to protect him. He staggered and stumbled but he allowed you to pull him to Grimmauld Place. He managed okay but around the half way mark, he started to pull away from him.

"Sirius, you're okay," you said, slightly breathless as you wrestled to hold his hands, "I promise you they're not coming to get you. You're safe. I've got you, Sirius. You are safe." This settled him until you got him into Grimmauld Place, shoving him through the door and locking it quickly behind you, "Kreacher!" You screeched loudly. A crack behind you signalled Kreacher's arrival, "Make us tea please, quickly. Oh and put some chocolate on the tray too." Kreacher grumbled something before he apparated to the kitchen to get it sorted, probably an insult but you didn't care.

Quickly, you bundled Sirius onto the couch, grabbing the blankets from the chairs and wrapping him up into them. He was chittering, eyes squeezed shut. With your wand, you sent a fireball into the fireplace which immediately set the logs into an orange blaze. You wrapped yourself around Sirius, pressing your warm cheeks against his cool ones, "You're safe," you repeated over and over, "they can't get you in here, you hear me? You're safe. I've got you, Sirius. I've got you, not them, just me. It's just me and you," a crack sounded, "and Kreacher. That's it." He placed the tray of tea on the coffee table, "I promise you, Sirius Black, they will never hurt you again."

You continued to murmur warm words of comfort to him and slowly, he began to defrost. His body wasn't so rigid and his skin wasn't so cold anymore. He opened his eyes, blinking a few times from the brightness, "I'm safe?" He said hoarsely.

You nodded furiously, "The house has so many protection spells on it from Remus and Minerva and even Albus himself. The Dementors aren't after you, they're not going to get you. If they tried it, I'd send them to hell, Sirius. I'm not going to let anything happen to you, I promise you." You pressed a warm kiss to his forehead, "You are safe, I promise."

You peeled away from him to pick up a mug of tea, "Here," you said forcing his hands to wrap around it, "drink, you'll feel better. Oh, and eat this," you said, grabbing a chocolate from the tray, "open up." Sirius complied with the tiniest of smiles and ate the chocolate. Remus was right, chocolate always helped.

You stayed beside him as he sipped the tea. Once he was finished, you took the mug and wrapped yourself back around him, "How do you feel?" You asked quietly.

"Warm," he said with a chuckle. He was slowly coming back to you, "but I'm not ready to take anything off yet. I want to be warm for a while."

You nodded, "That's fine with me," you said, kissing his forehead again, "we'll just be warm today. No plans, just warmth."

[wickedfangharpg]

A bit late posting some art + story for springtime XD But it only took forever to finish the actual written part lmao, big chunk of story under the cut!

Characters: Scarlett Winters with Eminence Leona Bunting

"This is ridiculous," Scarlett walked into the bedroom in a huff, stopping by the mirror to begin fixing her hair. "It looks like spring out there, so why does it feel like autumn!?" She grumbled, struggling somewhat with her braid.

Miss Leona Bunting, who had been waiting for Scarlett's return, rose from where she had been seated and made her way to stand behind Scarlett.

"It's not so bad, it's better than winter, isn't it?" The maid replied, gently shooing Scarlett's hands away so she could fix her braid for her.

"I'll take anything else over winter weather, but I'd really like a warm day for once," Scarlett sighed. "You know midsummer is coming up? Midsummer! I don't think we've had a single day of summer yet," She turned once Leona was done, checking her over to ensure she was looking presentable as well.

Miss Bunting nodded her agreement, holding still while Scarlett straightened her collar for her. "At this point we can't wait for nice weather to get things done, lest we'll never get to them," Miss Bunting spoke with faint amusement.

"Indeed," Scarlett agreed, still disgruntled about the whole thing. "Why can't the mages around here summon forth some sunny weather? If they got cold as easily as I do they'd surely find a way,"

"The last time someone altered the weather, we got the worst snowstorm in over a century," Miss Bunting pointed out gently.

A faint grumble from Scarlett at that while she packed a small bag and double checked that she wasn't missing anything. "Will you be alright coming out with us today? No burning alive in public, right?"

Miss Bunting chuckled, shaking her head. "We don't catch fire the moment the sun touches us," She reminded, "And it's a gloomy day, I'll be just fine. I miss coming out in the daytime anyway, I do like to be seen now and then."

"I know, I do love catching glances while out in town," Scarlett smiled, motioning for the other to follow as she headed out.

Miss Bunting grabbed her hat on the way out, tying a nice bow to keep it on during their walk to the stables.

Indeed the clouds sheltered her from the majority of the sun's wrath, but nonetheless, she was just a bit weaker out here in the daylight.

"I'm a little surprised they want you to come along, are they really so concerned to need a farrier's eye?" Miss Bunting inquired as they ducked into the barn, following Scarlett to her steed's stall.

"Rath isn't the only one horse shopping today, Aulaea wants me to find her a good team for the hearse so the horses we already have can get longer breaks," Scarlett explained, leading the standardbred out of his stall after fitting a halter onto him.

Eminence, Scarlett's standardbred, was not the easy sort to work with. He was unreliable - suddenly refusing to work without warning now and then, often bucking Scarlett right off - rears under saddle, and kicks at other horses that get behind him. On top of being difficult to bridle and easily panics in small spaces; hence why Scarlett barely stepped into his stall.

Nonetheless, Scarlett adored him to no end. She liked to tell people that she's a cold-blooded predator and does not form unconditional love towards other beings, but those who know her know that it's a complete lie. She loves horses, if nothing else, and that is a sure sign that she has the capacity for warmth in her heart.

Miss Bunting remained close to Scarlett. She wouldn't much like to admit it, but being around Eminence made her a tad nervous. She was certain that, if she got to know him, she would find confidence around the horse - but that wasn't going to happen. Usually only Scarlett ever worked with him, with the exception of the stablehands ensuring that he was cared for when she was away or too busy to come into the barn.

After getting the stallion saddled and ready to go, the pair walked him along cobblestone roads leading back uphill, towards the looming estate, through the gardens and around to the front of the building. The wind came with a harsh chill, yet carried the sweet scent of cherry blossoms as the trees showered them with petals.

Positioned at the front gate was a vis a vis carriage, drawn by a sooty bay Iberian warmblood. The stallion had been named Chorus of Tears, for the extremely minimal frame markings which dot only his face like false teardrops.

"Hah, we beat ya here! Took you long enough," The goblin, Malacus, sat at the driver's seat with reins in hand as sharp teeth grinned towards Scarlett and Leona. Her long tail coiled around her lap, large ears a bit more perked than usual under her fedora as solid black eyes watched them. Of course she didn't bring a coat, Malacus wasn't one to be bothered by the cold or even the heat. Or much else, for that matter.

"We haven't been waiting that long, don't worry about it," The pale demon seated in the carriage spoke up before they could respond, comfortably lounging in the back. It was none other than Rath, the owner of the estate and the leader of the syndicate they ran there. The big boss himself.

"We must have just missed each other!" Scarlett laughed, stopping to heave herself into the saddle. "We ready to get going?"

Leona helped fix Scarlett's skirt once she was in the saddle, promptly stepping into the carriage to seat herself opposite from Rath. A stark contrast from their boss, she maintained good posture and rested hands in her lap, taking up as little space as possible while avoiding direct eye contact.

"I'm ready," Leona informed, to which Malacus nodded and urged Chorus onward.

It was of some relief to Leona that Rath lacked interest in making small talk with her, lazy yellow eyes seemed to prefer observing the people and their horses bustling about the streets while they made their way toward the market.

Scents freshly made food, horse manure, and more faintly of smoke carried on the wind as the carriage was stopped and Scarlett's horse was hitched alongside many others. Ahead were countless stalls where merchants hawked everything from baskets and buckles to weapons and cursed relics - and, further down, every sort of animal could be found in closely-packed stalls and stacked cages.

"I do so love market day, I wish it could be this nice every day," Scarlett mused, waiting patiently while the others got off the carriage.

Rath glanced over the other three in thought, "Miss Bunting, you're with me. Malacus, help Scarlett with whatever she needs,"

"Wha-- but I wanted Leona to help me!" Scarlett quickly protested.

"You two are too trouble-prone when you're alone together, and I don't have time to deal with that today," Rath pointed out, "Any other day I don't care, but today we can't have any accidents,"

"We weren't going to do anything," Scarlett grumbled and crossed her arms, but ultimately she couldn't argue against him.

The group split up then, Scarlett heading for where all the big drafts were kept, all the way at the other end of the market. Of course, a great many things slowed her down as they caught her eye - beautiful dresses and shiny jewelry, and then those cages of dodos. She was always tempted by how round and plump the birds looked, especially the ones with the fancy plumage and big pedigrees. She enjoyed poking fingers through the bars to feel those soft feathers, until the seller took notice and slapped her hand away.

"Those are lawn decorations, not snacks," Malacus pointed out.

"They're too round not to be snacks," Scarlett hummed, eyeing over the birds hungrily.

"It's all fluff Scarlett, there's no meat on them, and we don't have a shelter to keep them in anyway," The goblin tried with a frustrated huff.

Scarlett's temptation only ceased when she finally noticed the hefty price tag on those fancy birds, quick to move along and get back on track.

Rath and Leona, meanwhile, were already by the horse sales. The demon strolled leisurely and eyed each equine they passed, the maid following at his heels. They were merely browsing, but Leona could see that Rath was looking for something specific, she knew that thoughtful look in his eyes.

Of course it was a fancy purebred arabian which finally had the demon stopping for a better look. A liver chestnut rabicano stallion, with quite the pedigree it seemed, once he had begun talking with the seller. As expected, it wasn't long before they were walking away with the horse in tow.

They'd been on their way back toward the carriage when Rath halted abruptly; something else had caught his eye. The lead rope was passed over to Leona so the demon could approach another stall, of course it was another hotblood. An akhal-teke mare, with a very shiny chestnut sabino coat.

While Rath spoke with the seller, Leona found herself far too tense to pay attention and listen in. She wasn't too terribly experienced with horses, yet here she was. Holding the lead of a very nervous, very EXPENSIVE, hot-blooded stallion that her boss already adored, in a very crowded area. All that went through her mind in that time were pleas for the horse not to spook, oh she would be in so much trouble if he got loose because of her.

Even worse was when Rath wound up buying the akhal-teke, so Leona would need to continue to keep the stallion's lead as they resumed their route back to the carriage.

Rath glanced toward the arabian, then at Leona.

"Why are you nervous?"

Leona nearly startled at the question, looking up at the demon. "I'm nervous because he seems anxious, what if he spooks?" She answered, nodding toward the arabian.

"He's nervous because you're nervous. Calm yourself. He won't spook if he knows he can trust you to guide him."

Leona looked them to the arabian, eyes squinting a little in the light. Was it really that simple, or was it that these things merely come to demons more easily? Leona knew her own kind to have the capacity for a profound connection with nature and animals, perhaps it was time she considered making an effort to tap into that.

Scarlett and Malacus were already awaiting the pair when they arrived to where they'd left the carriage, a pair of black percherons stood near to where their leads had been hitched to the side.

"Oh my, what lovely horses you found!" Scarlett mused, having already seated herself in the saddle of her standardbred.

"We had good luck," Rath smiled, making his way to the opposite side of the carriage to hitch the akhal-teke, taking the lead from Leona after to hitch the arabian.

Malacus eyed the pair; a mare and a stallion, she knew their boss well enough to know what plans he had for them.

"Two chestnuts? The foal's obviously going to be another chestnut, that's boring," She commented with some amusement.

"I don't breed for color, I breed for capability," Rath climbed into the carriage once the horses were secure, Leona just after him. "They're two of my favorite breeds, they can only make something amazing mixed together."

Malacus drove the carriage onward, Scarlett riding just behind to keep an eye that none of the horses spook or get loose. Leona was feeling eager to speak with Scarlett, but it would be rude of her to talk past Rath with her voice raised enough that Scarlett could even hear her over all the hoofbeats against cobblestone. Thus the ride lacked much conversation until they were back on estate grounds.

Stopped in front of the building, Rath and Leona hopped out while Malacus waited in the front, driving the carriage to be returned to the carriage house once all the new additions had been unhitched from the vehicle.

Scarlett had the leads of both percherons while Leona and Rath had the others, the group heading down the path to stall all the equines. Dr. Lynch was going to need to give them all a checkup before they could be let into the fields with the others.

"I'm sorry we could not go shopping together," Leona murmured when she finally had the chance to return to Scarlett's side, offering a soft smile her way.

"It's okay, Rath wasn't all that wrong about us I suppose," Scarlett chuckled.

The two walked out of the barn together, where Rath preferred to remain for the moment while he thought of names for his new equines.

Scarlett enjoyed indulging in conversation with Leona inside a while longer, and the remainder of the day had gone by as usual. The sun dipped under the treeline, dinner had been had, and Leona found comfort in the darkness enveloping the spacious halls of the manor. She found it easier to see this way than during the day, her eyes did so ache after so much time in the daylight.

Leona was getting weary, however, and was headed quietly to retire to her room when she heard a door open behind her. No extra light entered the hall from the yet darker bedroom where Scarlett peered out at her, pink eyes reflecting what little light which allowed them to see with a vibrant red hue.

"Miss Bunting, are you going to bed now?" Scarlett inquired, leaning against the doorway in her pale nightgown.

"I am," Leona nodded, "Did you need something before I retire for the night?"

Scarlett nodded, "Might you stay the night with me again? I am feeling awfully lonely tonight,"

Leona turned more fully toward the other, walking over to stand before Scarlett. "I would be delighted to," She nodded, hesitating a moment. "...I confess, I am rather thirsty as of current. May I have a drink in there?"

Excitement subtly sparked in Scarlett's eyes, "Sounds good to me~" She hummed, motioning for Leona to follow as she retreated into her room, door shutting behind them.

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Aiden/Lambert angst

C/W character death

Aiden groaned, trying to simultaneously rub the sleep from his eyes and move his hair off his face. Crap, when had he fallen asleep?

Someone let out an amused huff next to him, "Mornin' Sunshine."

Aiden's breath left him in a shaky exhale as he flipped his body to fully face the other side of the bed.

"Lambert?"

"You expecting someone else?" He asked arching an eyebrow.

Aiden saw his cocky expression morph into one of concerned panic just before his vision started to blur.

"Oh shit, Aiden. Please don't cry."

Aiden didn't need to be able to see Lambert to know that the other would be looking like one of his own bombs was about to go off in his face. He could almost feel the heat from Lambert's hand as it hovered awkwardly in the vicinity of his shoulder. His Wolf never did know how to handle tears, from anybody.

"I'm sorry, Lambert. I'm so sorry!"

"For what? It's not like you're the one that pumped me full of venom."

"Which happened because you shoved me out the way! You stupid-" Aiden broke off as another sob shook his entire body, "You should have let me take the fucking hit."

"Like I was gonna do that. Besides, outcome would still be the same. Just reversed."

Aiden could hear the shrug. His sob turned into a snarl as the others nonchalants filled him with anger.

"Why aren't you mad at me?" He demanded, scrubbing furiously at his eyes to glare at the other, tears still falling, "This is all my fault. I know it, you know it. Your family-"

"Won't blame you." Lambert interrupted firmly, "They all know the life. Something like this was bound to happen eventually and Vesemir gave his word you're as much an honorary Wolf as Coen, remember?"

Aiden felt fingers ghost through the ends of his hair, "They won't punish you for something I did. Despite what people think I'm capable of thinking for myself and I don't regret it."

Aiden could only lie there and take in the others still haggard appearance as he continued playing with his hair. Golden eyes slightly sunken and surrounded by dark circles that had nothing to do with potions, skin too pale apart from the spider web disappearing under the neck of his tunic, showing the path of the manticores venom. More than anything, Aiden wanted to reach out to him but something was holding him in place, warning him the moment would be gone if he moved.

"Try and get some more sleep, you look about as good as I probably do right now. I promise it's going to be alright, Kitten. Just, don't cry over this again, it's not worth it. I'm alright, honestly. Nothing hurts anymore and I'm going to be right there with you. Please don't cry."

"Lambert, I.." The rest of the declaration drifted as Aiden's eyes suddenly felt incredibly heavy, drifting closed of their own accord.

The last thing he was aware of was Lambert giving that crooked grin he loved so much, "I know. You too. So damn much."

The pillow was damp when Aiden woke and he didn't need to check the other side of the bed to know it would be stone cold. He buried his nose into the soft, worn fabric of the tunic he'd tucked by his head, already dreading the day the scent would be truly gone.

It was some sort of cruel mockery that he could see the start of the mountain pass leading to Kaer Morhen from his window. He never thought it was a journey he'd have to make alone but Lambert's family needed to hear it from him rather than through gossip in the spring. They needed to know what had happened to their youngest Pup.

Part of him hoped Vesemir would disregard past claims and...what? Banish him, execute him? At this point he'd happily take anything the remaining Wolves saw fit to dish out. Penance for breaking his one promise to them.

"I promise I'll keep him safe."

Aiden couldn't put it off any longer and - if he were being honest with himself - he didn't want to. He grabbed his pack from by the door, hyper aware of the silver Wolf's head tucked away safely, ready to join it's brethren on the medallion tree. The thought caused a fresh wave of grief to wash over him, "Sorry, Lambert." He whispered, wiping his eyes quickly, but not quickly enough to stop a few tears falling.

It looked like this was to be a journey of broken promises.

[hermesserpent-stuff]

Wrote a little ahead!!! For the road trip au

Blood death and trauma involving chains.

Gambit twists and tries to run but the ground opens up beneath him. He turns and blows up a wall and leaps. Then a chain springs from the broken rubble and grabs his neck. It yanks him backwards, knocking him off of his feet. He claws at his throat and gags as he strains against the pull. Then his arms are yanked backwards by new chains and any purchase he had gotten to get some relief disappears. He screeches and panics, lighting up the chains on his hands. He cannot get away from the explosion and knocks himself silly against a wall. He coughs and chokes on dust. His chin is grabbed and his face is forcefully turned upwards.

The collar around his neck grows smaller making itself well known against his bleeding neck. Remy whimpers as a thumb rests on his bottom lip and his chin is tilted further up.

“I knew one day another mutant might come for my staff. I knew I would have enemies. I've been preparing, oh yes I have. Now, who sent you? Who told you my staff enhanced my abilities??”

The woman taps her artificial blood red nails against his skin and Remy finds his brain whiting out in panic. The collar tightens ever so slightly.

“Desole! Desole! I didn't know Mademoiselle! Pilat!”

He babbles and finds his hands beginning to spark. She holds the ornate staff firmly in one hand and taps the floor. His arms are yanked in front of him and the chains mould together, covering his joined hands. If he sparks now, he might blow off his hands. So he desperately tries not to do that.

“Don't lie to me, little thief. Now tell me!”

She digs her claws in and traces his bottom lip with a thumb. He squeezes his eyes tightly shut with a shuddering breath. He is back in that tiny tiny room. Adorned in orange jewels and fox imagery. The collar holds him in place.

“If you won't talk, I suppose I can always just keep you around. I do so like collecting pretty things.”

Remy opens his eyes and finds himself babbling again.

“Please Mademoiselle. I didn't know it made your powers more. Pilat! I just-”

She manipulate part of the rubble to press into his mouth and pin his tongue down. Remy gags and squirms.

“No. I'm not going to listen to filthy lies.”

She stomps the floor and it rises around him and turns opaque.

“I will return later. Perhaps some alone time will loosen that tongue of yours pretty boy.”

She turns and Remy struggles violently. He pulls and strains, the shackles biing and the collar choking. He quickly runs out of air and finds black dots spazzing across his vision. He fights back memories as he struggles. He finds his body falling to the side, lungs burning from lack of air. His vision blacks out and he is gone.

--

Creed snarls and breaks through another wall. He claws and rips, following the scent of the cub. The kid had set of a series of explosions and he had Logan had burst in. But now it seems that the owner of the item has woken and is after them. The walls keep changing. He had lost track of a snarling Logan a few minutes ago, but figures the other feral will be just fine.

He knocks down a door and then he sees Gambit. The kid is lying in a glass box, chains binding him down. Blood drips out of different wounds and the kid-

Is the cub breathing?!!

He slams into the glass and cracks it. He slams it again with a roar. It shatters. Gambit does not react at all. Sabretooth breaks the chains, claws off the collar, and the thing holding the kids hands together. Gambit gasps and coughs as soon as the collar is off, but does not open his eyes. He noses at Gambit's neck. There is a pulse. Weak and fluttering. He whines.

“Gambit. Cub. Please open up your eyes.”

He holds the cub close to his chest. No response. An angry red circle decorates the kid's neck. He licks off the blood and noses his hair again. Sabretooth hears movement.

“Ah, so the little thief was lying. Did you send him, I wonder.”

Sabretooth gently puts down the cub and then roars loudly, making the walls vibrate with his voice. She flinches and he leaps forward. She makes a wall rise and he destroys it. His claws eat away at everything she creates.

When he reaches her, his brain is mad with bloodlust and revenge. He claws and rips, blood splatters decorating the room. He tears the staff from her and holds it tightly in his teeth. She tries to get it back and he claws at her chest. His nails are sharper than before and he snarls at the scent of fresh blood. She falls after that.

Sabretooth hears a noise and he spins. His cub is shakily trying to sit up. Sabretooth trots back to the cub who blinks weakly. The cub says something and Sabretooth chuffs around the stick in his mouth. The cub touches his head and pats his hair. Then gently tugs on the stick that tastes weird. Sabretooth gladly drops it and curls around the little one. He noses and licks, purring as the cub weakly leans against him. The cub mumbles something else then goes limp. Sabretooth worriedly noses at him but the breathing and heartbeat are steady.

--