#the year of unbroken promises

[moyazaika]

will you appear again before Christmas?🥲

YES HI!!!! WOWEE sorry for being away longer than i intended! estranged family member showed up on my front door after 18 yeARS of no contact?!?!? went to bali and lost my pasSPORT?!?!?! failed my driver's TEST!?!?!?!

#life

[feminist-space]

A Company Reminder for Everyone to Talk Nicely About the Giant Plagiarism Machine

by Amanda Bachman

"Hey team. It’s your CEO. I know your time is valuable, so I’ll cut right to the chase: It’s come to my attention that some of you have been bad-mouthing the Giant Plagiarism Machine™.

I’d like to remind you that our company policy is pro–Plagiarism Machine™. We’re a tech-forward, future-oriented company that doesn’t shy away from the promise of new innovation—even if that innovation is a Giant Plagiarism Machine™ that copy-pastes existing innovation into fake sentient sentences.

Lately, it feels like some of you aren’t the techno-optimists I took you to be. You’ve been heard uttering slurs like “I’m worried about my job stability” and “I just don’t think it’s positive for humankind,” neither of which sounds remotely optimistic or techno. I’ve even heard shocking reports of teams failing to incorporate plagiarism into their processes, because—I can’t believe I have to repeat this—“it’s not helpful.”

Team, hear me when I say that this is harassment, and it must end. Put yourself in your coworker’s shoes—say, a coworker with really nice, designer footwear, who has invested their personal fortune into the Giant Plagiarism Machine™, along with other intellectual-property-theft futures. Imagine how that coworker (could be anyone!) might feel working alongside such Negative Nancies.

Folks, that’s just not who we are. This is and has always been a company of risk-takers who are unafraid to move fast and break things. Or at least, that’s what I thought, until a bunch of you started bringing up the many merits of proceeding cautiously and keeping things unbroken.

It just really comes as a shock that such accomplished intellectuals, who’ve spent their entire careers pushing the upper bounds of human achievement, could be judgy about a machine that runs the entirety of human imagination through a shredder and glues together what comes out.

I guess I understand. I, too, was once a little skeptical of the Giant Plagiarism Machine™. But that was before I attended The Conference for Big Boy Business Owners™. Here, I learned that my fellow titans of industry have been re-orging to “leverage plagiarism” and “minimize thought-waste.”

It was at that very same conference that I learned critical thinking takes up 20 percent, sometimes 30 percent, of company time. It’s clear to me that some of you are not focused on the profit potential of outsourcing all of our thinking to a machine capable of remixing thoughts that have come before.

And sure, most of you are hired for your intellectual capabilities. But you don’t need to worry about losing your jobs to the Giant Plagiarism Machine™. As I always say, people are more powerful than plagiarism. (At least until the next economic downturn, during which I will quietly decide that, hey, maybe plagiarism was the dark horse all along.)

The way I see it, we’re family. It really does disappoint me that so many brilliant colleagues—whose genuine breakthroughs I’ve profited from for years—would be so quick to condemn this newer, stupider way that I and others like me can make money off your life’s work, through stealing.

So as we move forward, I want to hear a real turnaround in attitudes, troops!

Because, at the end of the day, you don’t really have a choice."

[callsigns-haze]

Lean On

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Reader

Summary: Tyler Owens, an avid storm chaser, takes his friends Javi and Kate to meet his estranged wife YN and their son Noah, rekindling old tensions. During a fierce tornado, they seek refuge in a cinema, where Tyler and YN rediscover their love amidst the chaos. YN begs Tyler to never leave again, and he promises to stay, solidifying their connection he broke all those years back.

Warnings: Natural Disasters, Family Conflict, Romantic Intimacy, Strong Language

A/n: I only watched twisters and I just had too

Word count: 8,525 (holy fucking shit)

Tyler Owens had always been a free spirit, driven by an obsession that had gripped him since childhood: tornadoes. The power, the unpredictability, the sheer force of nature—it all fascinated him. He’d dedicated his life to chasing them, studying them, understanding their every whim and fury. Over the years, he’d assembled a crew, a family of sorts, who shared his passion and drive. Among them were Javi and Kate, friends and fellow storm chasers who had been by his side for two years.

It was a rare sunny day, with the sky an unbroken canvas of blue, that Tyler decided his team deserved a break. The adrenaline, the sleepless nights, the constant state of readiness—they needed a holiday from the storms, if only for a little while. The rest of the crew scattered to their own respites, but Javi and Kate chose to stay with Tyler, curious about his plans.

The three of them piled into Tyler’s truck, a rugged beast of a vehicle that had weathered countless storms. As the tires crunched over gravel and onto the open road, Kate glanced over at Tyler, who was focused on the horizon, his eyes alight with a spark that was hard to ignore.

"Where are we going, Tyler?" she asked, a hint of curiosity in her voice.

Tyler's lips curled into a mysterious smile. "I want you to meet my family."

Javi, sitting in the back seat, leaned forward. "Like your mom and brother or something?" he asked.

Tyler chuckled, shaking his head. "Something better."

They drove for hours, the landscape changing from the bustling outskirts of the city to the serene vastness of the countryside. The sky, which had been clear and calm, began to change, dark clouds rolling in from the distance. It was a sight all too familiar to the trio, but this time, there was no urgency, no race against time. They were simply observers.

Eventually, Tyler turned off the main road, guiding the truck down a narrow path that led to a quaint, rustic bar. The sign above the entrance read "The Tipsy," and it depicted a tornado with two people dancing inside it.

Javi raised an eyebrow as he read the sign. "What are we doing here?"

Tyler smiled enigmatically. "You'll have to wait and find out."

He led them inside, the wooden door creaking as they entered. The interior was warm and inviting, with low lighting casting a cozy glow over the patrons scattered around the bar. A jukebox played soft country tunes in the corner, and the air was thick with the scent of aged wood and beer.

Tyler guided them to a booth near the back, the plush seats a welcome comfort after their long drive. As they settled in, Tyler glanced around the room, his expression one of contentment and nostalgia.

Kate looked at him expectantly. "So, what’s the big surprise?"

Tyler leaned back, a playful glint in his eye. "Just wait. It’ll be worth it."

Tyler’s eyes perked up from the booth, drawing the attention of Javi and Kate. They followed his gaze and noticed a beautiful woman behind the bar. She was effortlessly juggling bottles with perfection, her cowboy hat slightly tilted, her white tank top and jeans hugging her figure, and a pair of worn cowboy boots completing her look. Despite the bar being loud and overcrowded, it was clear who had captured Tyler's attention.

With a blink of an eye, she noticed him too. Her hands paused mid-juggle, and she delicately slammed a rag onto the bar before setting the bottles down. She made her way over to their booth, her expression a mix of surprise and something unreadable.

Tyler quickly smirked at her, the familiar gesture laden with unspoken words.

"You're finally here to see your son," she said, her voice carrying over the din of the bar, stunning both Kate and Javi into silence.

Tyler leaned back, his smirk unfaltering. "Javi, Kate, this is—"

"Your wife?" Kate interrupted, her voice a mixture of disbelief and curiosity.

The woman cut him off coldly. "I left you."

Tyler's smirk hardened slightly. "You threw a shoe and your rings at me. You never signed any papers."

A tense silence hung in the air, the lively noise of the bar feeling oddly distant as Kate and Javi exchanged bewildered looks. The woman’s eyes flashed with something fiery and unresolved, and Tyler’s demeanour remained unyielding, the confrontation a clear indication of a long-standing, complex history.

"This is YN," Tyler finally said, his voice softer but firm. "She’s my wife."

"Ex-wife," YN corrected, though her voice lacked the finality the words should have carried.

The revelation settled over Javi and Kate like a storm cloud, both of them struggling to process this unexpected twist. The woman standing before them was more than just a bartender; she was a pivotal piece of Tyler’s life that he had kept hidden until now.

"Well," Javi said, breaking the silence with a forced chuckle, "this just got interesting."

Kate nodded, her gaze flicking between Tyler and YN, trying to piece together the story that lay between them.

Tyler held YN’s gaze, his eyes conveying a mix of regret and determination. "I’m here now. We’ve got things to talk about."

YN crossed her arms, her expression unreadable. "I’m going to get Noah," she said, turning sharply on her heel and heading toward the back of the bar.

Tyler watched her go, his face softening as he turned back to Kate and Javi. "I wanted you guys to meet my family."

Kate opened her mouth to speak, but the words seemed to escape her. Javi simply shook his head, still trying to process the unexpected turn of events.

The tension was palpable, but beneath it all was a thread of something more—an unfinished story, a connection that hadn’t yet been severed, no matter how frayed it had become.

As the noise of the bar began to filter back in, the dynamic between the four of them had shifted irrevocably. The past had resurfaced, bringing with it questions, emotions, and unresolved conflicts that would need to be addressed.

The noise of the bar buzzed around them, but Tyler, Javi, and Kate were lost in their own thoughts, processing the revelation and the tension that had just unfolded. Moments later, the door to the back of the bar swung open, and a small figure came running out.

Seven-year-old Noah, with tousled hair and bright eyes, darted through the crowd. His face lit up with pure joy and disbelief as he spotted Tyler. "Dad!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the noise.

Tyler’s eyes softened, and he stood up just in time to catch Noah as he launched himself into his arms. Tyler engulfed his son in a big hug, lifting him off the ground as he held him tightly. The boy’s arms wrapped around his father’s neck, holding on as if he were afraid to let go.

"I can't believe you're here, Dad!" Noah exclaimed, his voice muffled against Tyler’s shoulder. He pulled back just enough to look at his father’s face, his eyes wide with happiness and surprise.

Tyler chuckled, ruffling Noah’s hair. "Of course I’m here, buddy. I’ve missed you."

Javi and Kate watched the reunion with a mix of emotions, their earlier confusion and tension melting away in the face of Noah's obvious delight. Kate’s eyes misted over as she saw the unfiltered joy on Noah’s face, while Javi couldn’t help but smile at the touching scene.

Noah glanced over at Javi and Kate, his curiosity piqued. "Who are they, Dad?" he asked, still clinging to Tyler.

Tyler gently set Noah down, keeping a hand on his shoulder. "These are my friends, Javi and Kate. They’re like family to me."

Noah looked at them with wide eyes, a shy smile spreading across his face. "Hi," he said softly.

"Hey, Noah," Javi said warmly, giving a little wave. "Nice to meet you, buddy."

Kate crouched down to Noah’s level, her smile gentle and reassuring. "Hi, Noah. It’s great to meet you."

Noah beamed at that, clearly pleased. He looked back up at Tyler, his face serious for a moment. "Are you staying this time, Dad?"

Tyler’s expression grew solemn as he met his son’s gaze. "I’m here now, Noah. We’ve got a lot to talk about, but I promise I’m not going anywhere."

From the bar, YN watched the reunion with a mix of emotions, her hands resting on her hips. The sight of Noah so happy to see his father softened her stern demeanour, though there was still a guarded look in her eyes.

"Why don’t we all sit down and catch up?" Tyler suggested, his voice gentle as he glanced at YN.

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. But remember, this doesn’t change anything," she said, though the edge in her voice was less sharp than before.

The initial excitement of the reunion began to settle, and Tyler looked at YN with a mix of hope and determination. "We’re down here for a week," he said, his voice steady. "Would it be alright if I took Noah to stay with me?"

YN’s eyes narrowed slightly, her protective instincts kicking in. "Stay with you? In some lousy motel room?" she asked, her tone dripping with scepticism.

Javi and Kate exchanged glances, noting how Noah seemed accustomed to his parents' tension. He watched the exchange quietly, his small hands clutching the edge of the table.

Tyler sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don’t have anywhere else to bring him for the night," he admitted.

Noah looked up at his mom, his eyes wide and pleading. "Please, Mom. Can Dad and his friends stay with us?"

YN hesitated, her eyes softening as she looked at her son. "Noah, you have your big soccer camp in a different state tomorrow," she reminded him, her voice gentle but firm.

Tyler's eyes widened in surprise. "Soccer camp? I didn’t know you played soccer, buddy."

YN’s expression hardened again, her eyes flashing with irritation. "If you’d been around, you’d know," she snapped.

A moment of heavy silence passed between them before YN sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "Fine," she said, her tone resigned. "You can stay at the house for the week. But I’m serious, Tyler—if you touch anything, I’ll cut your balls off."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a set of keys, handing them to Tyler. "I’ve got to wrap up here. I’ll be home soon."

Tyler took the keys, his expression a mixture of relief and gratitude. "Thanks, YN. I promise we’ll be respectful."

Noah's face lit up with a smile, and he hugged his mom tightly. "Thank you, Mom!"

YN’s stern expression softened as she hugged Noah back, brushing a hand through his hair. "Go on, get your stuff together. We’ll leave in a bit."

Noah nodded eagerly and dashed off toward the back of the bar, excitement evident in his every step.

Tyler turned to Javi and Kate, who were still absorbing the unexpected developments. "Looks like we have a place to stay," he said with a small smile.

Javi chuckled, shaking his head. "This is not what I expected when we set out today."

Kate nodded, a thoughtful look on her face. "No, but it’s… interesting. I think it’s good for you, Tyler."

YN glanced back at them, her expression softening slightly. "You three make yourselves comfortable. I’ll be done soon, and then we can head home."

-

As the night wore on, the bar gradually began to thin out. YN moved with practiced efficiency, announcing last call and starting to kick out the lingering patrons, both men and women, who had stayed for one last drink. The bar's noise ebbed as people shuffled out, some grumbling, others laughing, but all eventually making their way to the door.

Tyler, Javi, and Kate watched as YN’s no-nonsense approach cleared the room. She pulled down the metal protectors over the windows, the loud clanging echoing through the now quiet bar, locking them from the inside. Meanwhile, Noah sat with his dad, chattering about school and his friends, filling Tyler in on all the little details he had missed.

YN made her way around the bar, ensuring everything was locked up securely. She checked the register, wiped down the counter, and flipped off the neon lights, leaving only the dim overhead bulbs casting a soft glow over the room. Finally, she approached the booth where Tyler, Javi, Kate, and Noah sat.

"Alright, time to go," she said, her tone brisk but not unkind. She looked down at Noah, a question in her eyes. "Are you driving back with me or your dad?"

Noah glanced up at Tyler, his eyes full of hope. "Can I go with Dad, Mom? Please?"

YN hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. But you stay close to him, okay?"

Noah nodded eagerly, bouncing off the booth and grabbing his dad's hand. Tyler smiled, a wave of relief washing over him.

The group stood and followed YN to the front of the bar. She unlocked the door, the cool night air rushing in as they stepped outside. Tyler glanced back, taking in the now quiet bar with a sense of nostalgia.

YN stepped out after them, locking the door and pulling it shut with a finality that echoed in the stillness of the night. "You better take care of him," she said, her voice a mix of warning and something softer, something almost hopeful.

Tyler nodded. "I will."

She gave a small, almost imperceptible smile before turning to Noah. "I'll see you at home, kiddo. Behave for your dad, okay?"

Noah hugged her tightly. "I will, Mom. I promise."

With that, YN got into her car, the engine roaring to life as she pulled out of the parking lot. Tyler, Javi, Kate, and Noah watched her go, the taillights disappearing into the night.

Tyler looked down at Noah, who was beaming up at him. "Ready to go home, buddy?"

Noah nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! Let's go!"

As they drove through the quiet streets, the hum of the truck’s engine filled the space with a comforting rhythm. Noah, sitting in the front seat in front of Tyler and Kate, couldn’t contain his excitement. His eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as he turned to Kate and Javi, eager to share the details of his upcoming soccer camp.

“I can’t wait for the soccer camp tomorrow!” Noah said, his voice bubbling with excitement. “It’s gonna be so much fun!”

Kate, sitting behind him, smiled warmly. “That sounds amazing, Noah. What’s so special about this camp?”

Noah’s face lit up even more as he spoke. “It’s a big camp where lots of kids from different places come to learn new soccer skills and play games. There’s even gonna be a mini-tournament at the end!”

Javi, sitting in the backseat, leaned forward, clearly intrigued. “Wow, that sounds like a blast! Do you play a lot of soccer at school too?”

“Yeah!” Noah replied eagerly. “I’m on the school team, and we’ve been practicing a lot. This camp is going to be so cool because I’ll get to learn from really good coaches and play with kids from other schools.”

Tyler glanced at Noah, a proud smile tugging at his lips. “Sounds like you’ve been working hard. I’m really proud of you, Noah.”

Noah’s smile widened at his dad’s praise. “Thanks, Dad! And guess what? My Uncle Matt is bringing me down to the camp tomorrow afternoon.”

Javi raised an eyebrow. “Your uncle?”

“Yeah,” Noah nodded vigorously. “He’s my mom’s brother. He lives a few hours away, but he’s coming to pick me up and drive me to the camp. I haven’t seen him in ages, and he promised he’d take me for ice cream on the way.”

Kate looked impressed. “That sounds like a lot of fun. It must be nice to have family supporting you.”

Noah nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, it is! Uncle Matt always makes things fun. He even used to play soccer with Mom when they were kids.”

Tyler’s gaze softened as he listened to Noah’s excitement. “I’m glad you’re so excited about the camp.”

Noah nodded, his eyes shining with anticipation. “I am! And I’m really happy you’re here, Dad. I can’t wait to tell you all about it when I get back.”

Tyler glanced at Javi and Kate, sharing a look that conveyed both appreciation and a renewed sense of purpose. This week was more than just a break; it was a chance to reconnect with his son, to be a part of his life in a way he hadn’t been able to before.

The truck rumbled up the gravel driveway, and as the headlights illuminated the house, the group caught their first glimpse of Noah's home. It was a charming ranch-style house, with a wide, welcoming front porch that extended across the front. The house had a warm, rustic appeal, its wooden siding painted a soft, weathered beige that blended harmoniously with the surrounding landscape. The wind, which had picked up slightly, rustled through the tall grass that framed the property, adding to the serene yet lively atmosphere.

As Tyler, Kate, and Javi stepped out of the truck, they were immediately met with the enthusiastic barking of Noah’s two German Shepherds. The dogs, bounding with energy, leaped toward them, their barks echoing in the cool evening air. Their fur was sleek and shiny, and their eyes glinted with excitement as they approached.

Javi laughed, holding his hands up in a gesture of friendly surrender. “Wow, those dogs really know how to make an entrance!”

Noah, already bursting with excitement, unbuckled his seatbelt and jumped out of the truck. He raced across the driveway, his footsteps quick and light as he ran toward the porch. The dogs, recognizing him instantly, turned their attention away from the newcomers and bounded after Noah, their tails wagging furiously.

Tyler and Kate watched with smiles as Noah reached the porch and threw himself into his mother’s arms. YN, standing on the porch with a warm smile, embraced Noah tightly, her expression softening as she held him close. The sight of the mother and son reunion was heart-warming, a clear sign of the strong bond they shared despite the complications.

Kate nudged Tyler gently, a playful glint in her eyes. “You know, the resemblance really proves Noah is definitely your child. Look at him, he’s got your energy.”

Tyler chuckled, a hint of pride in his voice. “Yeah, I guess he does.”

As YN set Noah down, she looked up and offered a polite nod to Kate and Javi, her demeanour shifting to one of friendly hospitality. “Welcome to our home, Kate, Javi. It’s good to have you here.”

“Thanks for having us,” Kate replied warmly, returning YN’s smile. “Your place is beautiful.”

“Yeah, thanks for letting us stay,” Javi added, his tone appreciative.

YN's smile faded slightly as her gaze shifted to Tyler, her expression turning cold. “Let’s get your bags inside,” she said, her tone losing its warmth. “I’ll show you to the guest rooms.”

Tyler, feeling the chill in her voice, nodded. “Thanks, YN.”

They began unloading their bags from the truck, the dogs playfully nipping at their heels. The house, with its wide front porch and sprawling lawn, had a comfortable, lived-in feel. It was a stark contrast to the bustling city and the more impersonal surroundings Tyler was used to.

Once the bags were all gathered, they followed YN and Noah into the house. The interior was cozy, with warm wooden floors, rustic furniture, and an inviting atmosphere. YN led them through the front door, and the scent of home-cooked meals and fresh pine greeted them.

Noah, holding onto his mom’s hand, turned to Tyler with a big smile. “Come on, Dad! I want to show you my room!”

YN’s expression softened as she looked at her son’s excitement but remained cool towards Tyler. “Alright, Noah. Let’s get your dad and his friends settled first.”

She led them down a hallway, pointing out rooms as they went. “Kate, Javi, you’ll be in here,” she said, opening the door to a charming guest room. “There are fresh towels in the closet and extra blankets if you need them.”

“Thank you,” Kate said, her smile appreciative. Javi nodded in agreement, taking in the room with a grateful glance.

YN then turned to Tyler, her demeanour growing even colder. “Tyler, you’ll be in this room,” she said, opening the door to a smaller but comfortable room. “If you need anything, just ask.”

Tyler placed his bag inside, feeling the weight of the tension between them. “Thanks, YN,” he said quietly.

YN didn’t respond immediately, instead turning her attention to Noah. “Noah, why don’t you show your dad around while I finish up a few things?”

Noah nodded eagerly, grabbing Tyler’s hand. “Come on, Dad! I can’t wait to show you everything!”

Tyler allowed himself to be led down the hall, feeling a mix of hope and trepidation. As he looked back, he saw YN watching them, her expression a complicated mix of emotions.

-

The late evening had settled into a calm, quiet stillness, the only sounds being the gentle creaking of the old ranch house and the occasional rustle of leaves outside. After a full day, Tyler had just put Noah to bed, reading him a story and watching as his son’s eyes grew heavy with sleep. Satisfied that Noah was comfortably settled, he quietly exited the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Down the hall, the dim light of the kitchen spilled into the hallway, casting a warm, subdued glow. Tyler walked towards it, curious. As he reached the kitchen, he saw YN packing a bag on the table, her movements deliberate and methodical. She was gathering Noah’s football boots, kit, and other essentials, making sure everything was in place for the big soccer camp.

YN didn’t notice Tyler at first, her focus entirely on her task. The soft light highlighted the determined set of her jaw and the slight furrow of concentration on her brow. Tyler stood at the threshold for a moment, taking in the scene, before he cleared his throat gently to announce his presence.

YN looked up, her expression unreadable in the dim light. “He’s asleep?” she asked, her voice steady but quiet.

Tyler nodded, stepping into the kitchen. “Yeah, he’s out like a light. I read him one of his favourite stories.”

YN gave a small, almost imperceptible nod and continued packing. “He always loved bedtime stories. Especially the ones about tornadoes.”

Tyler watched her for a moment, then spoke softly. “You’re packing his bag for the camp?”

“Yes,” YN replied curtly, not looking up. “He’s got a lot to take with him, and I want to make sure he has everything he needs or more.”

Tyler moved a little closer, his gaze following her hands as she carefully folded Noah’s kit and placed it into the bag. “Can I help?”

YN paused, her hands still for a moment, then she sighed softly. “Sure. You can check if his water bottle is in the fridge. He’ll need that filled and ready.”

Tyler nodded, grateful for even this small opportunity to assist. He walked over to the fridge, retrieving the water bottle and filling it at the sink. The silence between them was thick, filled with unspoken words and lingering tension.

After a few moments, Tyler spoke again. “He’s really excited about this camp. It’s all he talked about on the drive here.”

YN’s hands stilled again, and she looked up, her eyes meeting his. “He’s been looking forward to it for months. It’s a big deal for him.”

Tyler nodded, feeling the weight of her words. “I’m glad he has something like this. He’s a great kid.”

“Yes, he is,” YN agreed, her voice softening slightly.

Tyler set the filled water bottle on the table and, in a sudden impulse, stepped closer to YN, wrapping his arms around her waist. She jerked back, startled, and pushed him away, her eyes flashing with a mix of surprise and anger.

“Tyler, we can’t do this every time you’re here,” she said, her voice firm and edged with frustration. “We act all happy, kiss, fuck, and then you leave. I won’t allow that.”

But as Tyler’s eyes locked onto hers, filled with a longing that mirrored her own buried emotions, he wrapped his hand gently around her neck and pulled her closer. His lips met hers in a deep, passionate kiss, pressing her against the table. YN resisted for a moment, her hands on his chest ready to push him away, but then she caved, her defences crumbling as the kiss deepened.

The world outside the kitchen seemed to disappear as they lost themselves in the moment. The kiss was filled with unspoken words, regrets, and a raw, undeniable connection that neither could ignore. Tyler’s hand slid from her neck to the small of her back, pulling her even closer, while YN’s hands slowly moved up to tangle in his hair.

Finally, they broke apart, both breathing heavily, the intensity of the moment hanging in the air between them. YN looked into Tyler’s eyes, a mix of anger, longing, and vulnerability in her gaze.

“This doesn’t change anything,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “You still have a lot to prove.”

“I know,” Tyler replied, his voice equally soft but resolute. “And I will. I promise.”

YN took a deep breath, stepping back and smoothing her hair. “We should finish packing. Noah needs to be ready for tomorrow.”

Tyler nodded, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, let’s finish up.”

YN finished packing the bag, zipping it closed with a final, decisive motion. She straightened up, looking at Tyler with a mix of determination and lingering hurt. “Just don’t disappoint him, Tyler. You had let down enough.”

Tyler swallowed, the weight of her words settling heavily on his shoulders. “I won’t,” he promised. “I’ll do everything I can to be the father he deserves.”

YN nodded, a slight, weary smile touching her lips. “Good night, Tyler.”

“Good night, YN,” he replied, watching as she turned and left the kitchen, the dim light casting long shadows behind her.

-

The next morning, the ranch was bathed in the soft, golden light of dawn. Birds chirped in the trees, and a gentle breeze rustled through the leaves, creating a peaceful atmosphere. The tranquillity was occasionally punctuated by the sounds of preparation, as YN and her brother Matt stood by his truck, loading up Noah’s bag for the soccer camp.

Noah, bouncing with excitement, was saying his goodbyes to Tyler, Kate, and Javi. He hugged Kate and Javi, thanking them for their visit, before turning to his father. Tyler knelt down to Noah’s level, wrapping his son in a big hug.

“Have a great time at camp, buddy,” Tyler said, ruffling Noah’s hair. “I’m really proud of you.”

Tyler replied with a smile. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Noah nodded, then ran over to where Matt was loading the last of his gear into the truck. Matt, a tall, sturdy man with an easy-going demeanour, lifted Noah’s bag effortlessly and placed it in the back of the truck. He gave his nephew a high-five before turning to his sister.

As Noah clambered into the truck, Matt leaned closer to YN, his expression curious. “Did y’all fuck again?” he asked, his tone genuine and slightly teasing.

YN’s eyes widened, and she quickly elbowed him in the ribs. “No,” she hissed, glancing around to make sure no one else heard. “God, Matt, why would you ask that?”

Matt rubbed his side, a smirk playing at his lips. “Just curious. You had that look in your eye this morning.”

“What look?” YN shot back, her voice low but sharp.

“The one that says you’re all conflicted and worked up,” Matt replied, his tone softening slightly. “Just concerned about you.”

YN sighed, her shoulders slumping a bit. “It’s complicated, Matt. But no, nothing happened. We’re just trying to figure things out for Noah’s sake.”

Matt nodded, his expression turning serious. “I get it. Just make sure you’re taking care of yourself too, okay?”

“I will,” YN promised, giving her brother a grateful smile. “Thanks, Matt.”

Tyler walked over to join them, his gaze shifting between YN and Matt. “Everything set?” he asked, trying to keep his tone casual.

“Yeah, we’re all good,” Matt replied, giving Tyler a nod. “Noah’s ready to go.”

Noah popped his head out of the truck, waving enthusiastically. “Bye, Dad! Bye, Kate! Bye, Javi! See you soon!”

“Bye, Noah!” Kate and Javi called back, waving.

Tyler smiled and waved, his heart swelling with pride and a tinge of sadness. “Bye, Noah. Have fun, and listen to your uncle, okay?”

“I will!” Noah shouted back, his excitement evident.

With everything in place, Matt climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine. YN gave Noah one last hug and a kiss on the forehead before stepping back.

After watching the truck disappear down the road, YN and Tyler turned back toward the house. As they walked, the silence between them was heavy but not uncomfortable. They reached the front porch where Javi and Kate were waiting, enjoying the fresh morning air.

YN gave them a warm smile. “So, are you two as madly obsessed with tornadoes as Tyler?” she asked, her tone playful but genuinely curious.

Javi chuckled, exchanging a glance with Kate. “Pretty much. It’s kind of hard not to be when you’re around him.”

Kate nodded, grinning. “Yeah, it’s definitely infectious. Tyler’s passion rubs off on everyone.”

YN’s smile widened a bit, and she motioned for them to follow her. “Well, come with me. I want to show you something.”

Curious, Javi and Kate followed YN, with Tyler trailing slightly behind. She led them across the yard to a large shed. As she opened the door, they stepped inside and were immediately struck by the sight of a whiteboard covered with detailed tornado studies, including diagrams, photographs, and various notes. The walls were lined with shelves full of meteorological instruments and equipment.

“Wow,” Kate breathed, her eyes wide with amazement. “This is incredible.”

Tyler stepped forward, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips. “YN used to chase tornadoes with me when we became married. She was just as passionate about it as I was.”

YN turned to face them, her expression a mixture of pride and practicality. “Yeah, I was. We made a great team, tracking storms and gathering data. But after I had Noah, things changed. Babies are expensive, and I needed a real job to support us.”

Her gaze shifted to Tyler, a hint of tension in her eyes. “Tornado chasing doesn’t exactly pay the bills.”

Javi and Kate listened, sensing the complexity of YN’s feelings. Javi stepped closer to the whiteboard, studying the detailed notes and diagrams. “You really know your stuff. It’s clear you were—and still are—a huge asset in the field.”

YN’s expression softened, appreciating the acknowledgment. “Thank you. I still follow the research and keep up with the latest developments. It’s hard to let go completely.”

Kate nodded, glancing between YN and Tyler. “It must have been amazing to chase storms together. But I understand why you had to make that choice.”

YN smiled gently, a mix of gratitude and bittersweet memories in her eyes. “It was amazing. And I don’t regret any of it. But priorities change, and I had to put Noah first.”

YN cleared her throat, drawing everyone’s attention back to the whiteboard. She pointed to a specific section filled with charts, graphs, and a detailed map marked with various weather patterns and historical data.

“Based on the latest alerts and previous occurrences, there’s a high probability that a tornado might strike today,” YN explained, her voice steady and professional. “The conditions are almost identical to past events that resulted in tornadoes in this area.”

Javi and Kate leaned in closer, examining the data with keen interest. Tyler’s eyes narrowed as he followed YN’s explanation, his mind already shifting into storm-chaser mode.

“I’ve been monitoring the weather patterns all week,” YN continued. “And everything indicates that we’re due for some severe weather today. The wind shear, humidity, and temperature changes are all pointing towards a potential tornado formation.”

Kate glanced at YN, impressed. “You really haven’t lost your touch, YN. This is some detailed analysis.”

YN smiled modestly. “Thanks. It’s hard to shake off old habits.”

As they looked out the window of the shed, they noticed the wind beginning to pick up. The leaves on the trees rustled vigorously, and the sky had taken on a slightly ominous hue, with dark clouds gathering in the distance.

Tyler stepped closer to the window, his instincts kicking in. “You’re right. The wind’s starting to stir up. We need to be prepared.”

YN nodded, her expression serious. “We need to keep a close eye on the weather reports and be ready to take cover if necessary. This area is no stranger to tornadoes, and we’ve got to stay vigilant.”

Javi turned to Tyler, his excitement barely contained. “Should we gear up and get the equipment ready? If a tornado does form, we’ll want to be ready to gather data.”

Tyler hesitated, glancing at YN. “What do you think? We don’t want to put anyone at risk.”

YN considered for a moment, then nodded. “We can set up some basic monitoring equipment around the property, but safety comes first. We’ll stay close to the house and make sure we have a safe place to take cover if things get serious.”

Kate started jotting down notes, already planning the setup. “We’ll need to monitor wind speeds, humidity levels, and temperature changes. I’ll get the anemometers and barometers from the truck.”

As they worked together to prepare, the tension in the air grew. The wind outside continued to pick up, whipping through the trees and sending small debris skittering across the yard. Dark clouds loomed overhead, casting an eerie shadow over the landscape.

Tyler turned to YN, his expression a mix of determination and concern. “YN, would you want to go chasing tornadoes again? Just like old times?”

YN paused, the question hanging in the air. She looked at Tyler, a swirl of emotions in her eyes. “Are you serious?”

Tyler nodded. “Yeah. It’s been a long time, and I miss having you out there with me. Besides, with the conditions today, we could really use your expertise.”

YN looked out the window, the wind howling louder now. Her passion for storm chasing still burned bright, and the thought of getting back out there, even just for a day, was tempting. She turned back to Tyler, a determined smile forming on her lips. “Alright. Let’s do it. But we stay safe, and we stay smart but I bet that's hard for you.”

Tyler’s face lit up with a mix of relief and excitement. “Deal.”

YN and Tyler sprinted toward his truck. The wind was picking up rapidly, whipping their hair and clothes as they ran. Tyler reached the truck first, yanking open the back and checking the equipment. Barrels, sensors, and cameras were all securely fastened, ready for deployment.

“We’re good to go!” Tyler shouted over the roar of the wind, giving YN a thumbs-up.

YN nodded, her heart pounding with a mix of adrenaline and anticipation. “Let’s make sure everything is double-checked. We can’t afford any mistakes out there.”

Together, they quickly went through a mental checklist, ensuring every piece of equipment was in place and ready for action. Meanwhile, Kate and Javi were hustling to pack up the radars and additional monitoring gear. They worked with practiced efficiency, their movements swift and precise.

“Radars are set!” Kate called out as she slammed the tailgate of their support vehicle shut.

Javi gave a quick nod, securing the last of the equipment. “We’re ready. Let’s get moving before this thing really kicks off.”

The group piled into Tyler’s truck, the atmosphere inside charged with excitement and urgency. Tyler took the driver’s seat, YN sliding in beside him. Javi and Kate squeezed into the back, their eyes scanning the horizon for any signs of the impending storm.

As they pulled out of the driveway, the wind was already strong enough to rock the truck slightly. Dark, menacing clouds swirled above, casting an eerie shadow over the landscape. Tyler kept one hand on the wheel, the other adjusting the radio to the local weather station for updates.

“We need to get to the very center of it,” YN said, her voice steady but filled with determination. “That’s where we’ll get the most accurate data.”

Tyler nodded, his eyes focused on the road ahead. “We’ll head west. That’s where the reports are indicating the strongest activity. Everyone, keep your eyes peeled.”

The truck sped down the rural roads, the wind howling louder with each passing minute. Leaves and small branches were whipped into the air, and the sky grew darker, an ominous prelude to the storm’s fury.

Kate leaned forward from the back seat, her voice tense but excited. “I’m picking up increased rotation on the radar. It’s definitely forming.”

Javi was already setting up the portable radar unit, his fingers flying over the controls. “We’ve got about ten minutes before it hits full force. We need to find a safe spot to deploy the barrels.”

Tyler pushed the truck harder, his foot pressing the accelerator to the floor. “We’re almost there. Everyone, get ready.”

They arrived at an open field, a perfect spot to launch their equipment without any obstructions. Tyler brought the truck to a screeching halt, and they all jumped out, working quickly to unload the barrels and sensors. The wind whipped around them, making every movement a struggle.

“Set the barrels here!” YN shouted, pointing to strategic spots around the field. “We need a wide spread to get the best data.”

They worked in synchrony, years of experience guiding their actions. Barrels were placed, sensors activated, and cameras positioned to capture every angle of the storm’s development. The wind was now almost deafening, the first drops of rain starting to pelt down.

“Okay, everything’s in place!” Javi yelled, his voice barely audible over the howling wind.

Tyler gave a final check, ensuring everything was secure. “Back in the truck, now! We need to move to a safe distance.”

They scrambled back into the truck, slamming the doors shut against the force of the wind. Tyler drove them a short distance away, finding a spot where they could monitor the barrels and sensors without being in immediate danger.

Inside the truck, the tension was palpable. They watched as the storm continued to build, the radar showing increasing rotation and intensity.

“Here it comes,” YN said quietly, her eyes glued to the horizon. “Get ready, everyone.”

As they turned the truck around to face the direction they had come from, the tornado materialized in full force. It was a monstrous, swirling vortex, far stronger and more violent than any of them had anticipated. The sheer power of it took their breath away, and for a moment, there was stunned silence inside the truck.

"Tyler, hit the gas!" Javi screamed, breaking the spell as the tornado surged closer, the wind howling louder than ever.

Kate clutched the seat in front of her, eyes wide with terror. "Go, go, go! It's coming right at us!"

Tyler didn’t need to be told twice. He slammed his foot down on the accelerator, and the truck lurched forward with a roar, tires spinning for a moment before gaining traction. The engine roared as they sped away from the impending doom.

YN gripped the dashboard, her knuckles white. “Drive into town! We need to get to the shelter!” she yelled, her voice barely audible over the deafening noise of the storm and the wail of the tornado sirens that had just started blaring in the distance.

Tyler's eyes were locked on the road, his focus razor-sharp as he maneuverer the truck through the increasingly treacherous conditions. Debris flew through the air, and the rain was coming down in blinding sheets, making visibility almost zero. He squinted through the windshield, barely making out the shapes of trees and houses as they sped past.

The wind buffeted the truck from side to side, each gust threatening to push them off the road. Javi and Kate huddled in the back, gripping whatever they could to steady themselves. The tension was palpable, fear mixing with adrenaline as they raced against nature’s fury.

“We’re almost there!” Tyler shouted, though the words were more for his own reassurance than anything else. He could see the outline of the town ahead, the familiar shapes of buildings providing a glimmer of hope.

As they barrelled into town, the sirens wailed louder, their eerie wail cutting through the chaos. People scrambled for cover, but it was clear there was no dedicated shelter nearby. The streets were filled with panic-stricken faces, families huddling together, and everyone looking desperately for a place to hide.

“There!” YN pointed towards the old cinema, its marquee flickering in the storm. “We need to get everyone inside! It’s our best shot!”

Tyler swerved towards the cinema, the truck skidding slightly on the wet pavement but maintaining control. They reached the cinema just as the tornado seemed to roar with renewed fury, the swirling winds growing even more intense.

“Everyone out! Now!” Tyler commanded, slamming the truck into park and jumping out.

They all scrambled out of the truck, running towards the entrance of the cinema. Tyler and YN threw the doors open, ushering people inside. The lobby quickly filled with a mass of frightened, drenched townspeople, their faces masks of fear and urgency.

“There’s no basement!” a man shouted, panic rising in his voice as he scanned the building.

“We’ll have to make do!” YN yelled back, trying to maintain some semblance of order. “Everyone, get to the back of the theatre! Away from the windows!”

They herded everyone into the main auditorium, the old seats creaking as people pressed in tightly. The walls shuddered with each gust of wind, and the overhead lights flickered ominously. Tyler, YN, Javi, and Kate took positions by the doors, doing their best to calm the panicked crowd.

“Keep away from the doors and windows!” Tyler shouted, trying to be heard over the growing cacophony. “Get down and cover your heads!”

The wind outside was deafening, a relentless howl that seemed to penetrate the very walls of the cinema. The roof groaned under the pressure, and with a horrifying screech, a section of it began to peel away. Dust and debris rained down, and the crowd screamed in terror.

“Stay calm!” YN tried to shout, her voice nearly drowned out. She grabbed a young mother clutching her child and guided them to the relative safety of the aisle. “Stay low and cover your heads!”

Tyler ran to the centre of the auditorium, his voice strong and commanding. “Everyone, stay together! We’ll get through this!”

Javi and Kate moved through the crowd, helping to calm people and keep them as safe as possible. But the noise was overwhelming, and the fear was palpable. The building shuddered violently as another section of the roof began to rip away, exposing them to the fury of the storm.

A fierce wind gust whipped through the open space, sending papers and loose objects flying. The sound was like a freight train bearing down on them, and the temperature seemed to drop as the tornado closed in.

Tyler grabbed YN’s hand, his eyes locking onto hers with a mixture of determination and fear. “We need to hold on. We’ve faced worse before.”

YN nodded, squeezing his hand back.

Suddenly, the main doors blew open, the wind slamming them against the walls. People screamed as the full force of the storm invaded the theatre. Tyler and YN ran to secure the doors, but the wind was too strong, making it nearly impossible.

“Get back!” Javi shouted, pulling them away just as another piece of the roof tore off, sending debris raining down.

They retreated to the back of the theatre, joining the huddled mass of townspeople. YN shielded a young girl with her body, while Tyler did the same for an elderly couple. The wind roared, and the structure of the building groaned as if it might collapse at any moment.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the wind seemed to lose some of its ferocity. The howling diminished to a deafening roar, and the debris stopped flying. The eye of the storm passed over them, giving a brief respite.

Tyler looked up, panting. “We need to move. If we’re in the eye, the other side of the tornado will hit soon. We need to find a more secure spot.”

YN nodded, urgency in her eyes. “Everyone, stay close! We need to move quickly and find better cover!”

But before they could organize the next move, the wind picked up again, signalling the approach of the tornado’s second half. The noise returned, louder than before, and the remaining sections of the roof began to buckle.

“Hold on to something!” Kate screamed, gripping a nearby seat.

The storm’s fury was unrelenting, the howling wind now a deafening roar that consumed everything. Inside the theatre, the panicked crowd clung desperately to the metal railings that lined the aisles, their white-knuckled grips their only anchor against the tornado’s immense force.

“Hold on tight!” Tyler shouted, his voice barely audible over the cacophony. He braced himself against the railing, his other arm wrapped protectively around YN.

Debris swirled through the air, and the theatre's walls creaked ominously. A sudden gust of wind tore through the room, lifting seats and sending smaller objects flying. A few unfortunate souls lost their grip and were swept away, their screams lost in the maelstrom.

YN’s fingers were slipping on the railing, the sweat and dust making it nearly impossible to hold on. “Tyler!” she cried out, her voice filled with fear as she felt her grip weakening.

Tyler’s heart pounded in his chest as he saw YN’s desperate struggle. He reached out, his hand closing around her wrist just as her fingers slipped free. “I’ve got you!” he yelled, his voice a mix of determination and fear.

The wind howled with renewed ferocity, and Tyler tightened his grip, pulling YN closer. She clung to him, her body trembling with the effort to stay grounded. Around them, the chaos continued, people holding on for dear life as the storm battered the theatre.

A particularly strong gust rocked the building, and Tyler felt his own hold on the railing waver. He gritted his teeth, using every ounce of strength to keep both himself and YN anchored. “Don’t let go!” he shouted, his voice raw with strain.

YN’s eyes met his, wide with fear but also filled with trust. “I won’t,” she promised, her voice barely more than a whisper.

As the storm raged on, the moments stretched into what felt like an eternity. Tyler could feel his muscles burning, every tendon straining to keep his grip. He glanced around, seeing Javi and Kate nearby, their faces set with grim determination as they held on.

“Hold tight, everyone!” Kate screamed, her voice cutting through the noise. “We’re almost through this!”

The theatre's structure groaned under the pressure, the walls and ceiling shaking as the tornado’s full force bore down on them. The wind was a relentless beast, tugging at everything in its path. Tyler’s grip tightened on YN’s wrist, his other hand aching from holding onto the railing.

Suddenly, a piece of the ceiling gave way, crashing down with a deafening noise. Dust and debris filled the air, and for a moment, it was impossible to see or breathe. Tyler coughed, his eyes stinging, but he didn’t loosen his grip.

“Stay with me, YN!” he shouted, his voice hoarse.

“I’m here!” she responded, her voice strong despite the fear.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the wind began to subside. The roar of the tornado faded to a distant howl, and the violent shaking of the building eased. The storm was passing, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake.

Tyler took a deep, shaky breath, his muscles screaming in protest as he slowly released his grip on the railing. He pulled YN into a tight embrace, relief flooding through him. “We made it,” he whispered, his voice filled with exhaustion and relief.

YN clung to him, her body trembling with the aftershocks of fear and adrenaline. “Thank you,” she whispered back, her voice choked with emotion.

Without thinking, driven by an overwhelming surge of emotion, Tyler cupped YN’s face in his hands and kissed her deeply. It was a kiss filled with relief, love, and a promise of never letting go. The world around them seemed to fade, leaving just the two of them in that moment.

YN responded instantly, her arms wrapping around his neck as she kissed him back with equal fervour. Tears mixed with the dirt on her face, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was that they were together, alive, and safe.

When they finally broke apart, YN looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears. “Tyler, please,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “Never leave me again. Please.”

Tyler rested his forehead against hers, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “I won’t,” he promised, his voice filled with sincerity. “I’ll never leave you again, YN. I swear it.”

They held each other tightly, the chaos around them fading into the background as they found solace in each other’s arms. The bond that had once been strained was now reinforced by the shared trauma and the depth of their love.

Javi and Kate staggered over, their faces pale but relieved. “Is everyone okay?” Javi asked, his voice rough from the dust and strain.

Tyler nodded, still holding YN close. “We’re okay. We’re all okay.”

Kate glanced around the devastated theatre, her eyes wide with disbelief. “That was… I’ve never seen anything like it.”

YN pulled back slightly from Tyler, her hand still holding his. “We need to make sure everyone’s accounted for and get the injured some help.”

Tyler nodded, brushing a strand of hair from her face. ��Right. Let’s do a headcount and see who needs assistance.”

Together, they moved through the theatre, helping those who had been thrown by the wind and checking on the injured. The sense of community and shared survival was palpable, everyone working together to ensure that no one was left behind.

As they helped an elderly couple to their feet, YN glanced at Tyler, her eyes still filled with emotion. “We’ve faced worse storms, but this… this was different.”

Tyler squeezed her hand, offering a small, encouraging smile. "Please let me back to you guys, nearly losing you there hurt me more than leaving you all those years back."

...

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[anaktoria-of-the-moon]

As an addendum to my last handler/pilot dynamic post, consider the found family dynamic:

You became a handler to find your baby sister, whom you know only was taken from your arms twelve years ago by a man bearing the Collective’s red-winged eagle on his shoulder, whom you’ve never seen again. (That is the way it goes with children who show promise for the pilot program - some call it destiny, others law, still others stealing; you don’t care to put a word to it, but you won’t rest till you’ve seen it undone.)

Your first pilot dies in a day, your second in a week. This too is the way it goes. Not every promising child becomes a proven soldier. Some blades shatter in the tempering: metal too poor, fire too hot.

You say the lines: Hunt there, Go north, Well done, Not yet, Wait here, Go home, Glory to the Collective - a litany in which you don’t believe. Now your pilots last longer before they die (missile strikes, overtaxed reactors, and each time you hurt a little less, and whisper thanks that they are not your sister, at least). Weeks before the next, then months, then years - how many? - you’ve long since stopped counting the days, for each that passes without finding what you seek is one that may as well not have come at all.

Then one day as you murmur the lines in your loyal hound’s ear a shriek pierces the sterile peace of your ivory tower, and your world erupts in flame. They’ve found where you direct from through some trick of triangulation; they’ve brought down an orbital strike, right upon you.

You wake amid the ruins to the screech of missiles, the groan of metal and shattering ceramic plating. And in your ear the first sound your pilot has ever made: a long, unbroken scream.

You watch her pick up the enemy and tear it in half, in a burst of steel and sparks, and then you are gone again.

When you wake next she is carrying you, strangely, gingerly, balanced atop her gun arm and held in place with her machete. You struggle upright and she grinds to a halt. They taught you early on how to work the emergency hatch from the outside; you do, now, and see to your shock that the pilot is just a scrap, a red-eyed white-bleached little thing tangled in too many strangling black cords, crying piteously, starved.

You needed her then. She needs you now.

So you unwrap her from the coffin of synthetics and wiring and carry her, cumbersome, down from the cockpit. While she thrashes in your arms (not used to the touch of mortal flesh, doubtless, not used to being so small and soft and terribly mortal at all), you reach into your still-intact coat and fish for the last snack there and feed it to her (gently, gently, she isn’t used to much besides intubated protein slop) and wait for the flutter of her chest to slow a little before you go on.

The sound of running water nets you a quiet pool to bathe in. She struggles too when you unzip her suit - she is like a wild animal, kicking and biting and scratching - you repeat the same soft assurances from your radio, Wait here, Easy, Don’t shoot yet, and she stills, and though there is a little blood on you you feel it’s a triumph. You guide her to the pool and then turn and walk five paces away, just far enough to know you can run back in case you hear her start to flail too much - or not at all.

It takes a few tries, getting her to figure out how to bathe. But by the fourth night she at least comes out free of that old coating of sweat and tears and machine lubricants, smelling no longer of grease and oil, and by the tenth night she sits and lets you untangle the long fall of her hair.

It is an ugly meager white, this hair, like the rest of her, skin and all, only her eyes that same strange red. This is how you think you know she is not your sister, who had the same rich loam brown skin you do - or perhaps this is just how pilots look; perhaps they are all bleached by their cockpits like plants in lightless winter.

She doesn’t speak, your pilot, they never do, they only ever growl or shriek or hiss or groan. They did not need to speak in the cockpit; you understand that somehow they and the mechs speak without talking, that it must be part of the dullness in her eyes that she has lost that way of speaking, for her mech has run out of fuel after a fortnight and, though you have worked out how to articulate its legs by sheer force and a bit of cleverly tied wire (so that you can walk it alongside the two of you as you go), you cannot manage to get it to wake again. So in the long hungry evening you try to teach her another way of speaking, with her hands and not her mouth.

You speak to her still, of course, as you always have, using the same soft key-in phrases you’ve always done (throwing in new words here and there, signing them at the same time). You understand now that you were never really talking to her to talk, but to soothe, the way you lull babies in the cradle. It is slow going, even so. At first you do not think she even listens. She does not look at your hands. She stares somewhere past you, out at the stars, or the next ridge, and does not move at all.

But on the hundredth day that changes. She looks suddenly, sharply, at you while you roast your catch over the fire, and she signs, Sun.

Sun? you sign back, heart racing.

Sun, she says. Sun rabbit. Sun rabbit food.

Another forty days and you find out Rabbit is the name of her mech.

In winter you come across the burned-out remains of an enemy outpost. Your pilot is off like a shot, and against your instinct you do not call out to her or give chase. Sure enough, she comes back, arms full of thin sheets that glitter like obsidian.

Sun food! she signs, hands shaky (she still is not used to such delicate gestures - in her mech, all her movements were big and sharp and final). Rabbit food!

The next days are spent swaddling Rabbit in the salvaged panels, and then, on the seventh day after you arrive at the ruins - in the midst of the coldest night yet - something inside the mech’s infernal innards chirps, and beeps, and comes to life.

That isn’t the only thing that wakes. Turns out dormant drones in this outpost have sensors tuned to mech handshakes.

It’s too late to run. You yell, RABBIT!, and you throw yourself over your pilot in the middle of her still-open cockpit, right as the drones converge upon you, and your world becomes day-bright.

You wake to find it is still night. Your leg aches. In the light of smoldering embers, your pilot shakes you. Tears glitter on her face like ice. Behind her you see Rabbit - the smoking hulk, having awoken just enough to sync with her pilot and turn and shield you both.

Your pilot signs, You not dead.

I’m not dead, you sign back, and now you begin to cry too, for the first time in twelve years. I’m not dead.

Rabbit dead, she signs. And you cling to each other and her little body (so stunted it is the size of a girl some twelve years old, despite that you know pilots are only enlisted at fifteen) wracks with sobs, over and over.

But in the morning, once her crying has subsided enough for her to fall asleep, you untangle yourself from her and go limping down into the ruins and wrap up your leg, and then you find yourself something approximating a screwdriver.

She finds you deep in the corpse of Rabbit. She is angry, maybe, by the look on her face - maybe she thinks you are desecrating the grave. Hastily you hold up your prize, and she falters - doesn’t recognize it.

Rabbit, you sign. Rabbit head. Rabbit - Rabbit soul.

Soul? She clearly doesn’t know the word. Nobody has ever told it to her. Of course.

You shake your head in frustration and gesture her over, and she comes, haltingly.

You carefully part the hair at the base of her neck. You slip the little black disc into the waiting slot.

It takes a moment. Then - oh then -

She nearly collapses into you. Her sobbing is louder than ever before, and her fingers are a shuddering outburst, over and over, Rabbit, Rabbit, Rabbit.

You don’t wander anymore. The ruins where you found the solar panels have cans and cans of preserved food hidden in some abandoned Doomsday bunker, turns out, and when those run out there are many animals you know you’ll be able to hunt here - you see their burrows and footprints in the thawing snow already. And as the sun grows stronger, you have noticed a little streak of black in your pilot’s white braid.

She chatters to Rabbit all day, every day. At least you think so - you see nothing, hear nothing, but she wanders the grounds with you (your limp growing ever more sure, thanks to a splint you made in the aftermath of the drones) and she helps you festoon the little makeshift hut you’re putting together with solar panels, and by turns she smiles, or frowns, or laughs suddenly, a bright peal undimmed by the closeness of any cockpit. Down in the middle of the village the old body of Rabbit lies still and steady, a little majestic in a forlorn way, you think.

Come spring you find yourself settling between the legs of Old Rabbit, New Rabbit and Beetle (thus your pilot has named herself, after her other favorite sort of animal) tucked happily against your arm; she has filled out much since you first pulled her from her cockpit and now eats the fish you roast for her with great enjoyment, smacking her lips and humming. When you are done she turns to look up at you.

Yes, Beetle? you ask her, aloud and with hands.

Will they find us? she asks you.

No, you tell her honestly. You lost your trackers that day in the fire, burned out of the tower in which you sat; to the Collective you are as good as dead. So is Rabbit now that her body has been torn apart, her disc removed. And the Collective doesn’t come back for expendables, for rusted blades they can no longer use. (Above you, flowers sway in the hollows of Rabbit’s arm cannons.)

Will you leave me? she asks you next.

You pause. You say, Do you want me to?

This is not in pilot vocabulary, to be asked a question. She has to pause also to take in what you’ve just done.

Then she says, No, never, and, If you do, I’ll go looking for you.

Like you went looking all those years ago, no? When did it change? You told yourself then: She’s lost out there somewhere; I must find her, or die trying. Now you look at the little girl beside you and you think, Maybe you were the lost one all along. Maybe you’ve found each other.

You ask her, Why do you say you’d look for me?

She considers this. After a long moment, she says, You had an order for me. At the end of every hunt. Told me where to go. I could not ever stop going until I got there, and I am there now, and if it goes away from me then I will have to go looking for it again.

She looks at you straight on, now, with eyes that reflect the night sky. It occurs to you that maybe this is her way of, at last, trying to give you a name; you forgot yours the moment you joined the force, for you weren’t interested in personalizing yourself to anyone, especially not the short-lived pilots, who didn’t need your name anyway, only your title, Handler.

You say, What do you mean?

She smiles. It’s you, she says. This place. The place is you.

You know now, but you need her to say it, the way she needed you to say those things back then, to keep her going, to keep her from going mad. So you ask her, What is the place?

She smiles again. In the darkness, an owl hoots.

She says, Home.

[lheslie]

Viltrum Mark: Thousand Years

I wrote this at 3 am, and it turned into a 1.6k words angst.

But I hope you'll still enjoy it.

Warning: Angst

Saying he loves you is an understatement.

He lovingly looks at you; he sees you as a white orchid, pure and elegant; he cares for you as delicate as flowers are, afraid that you'd wither away from his grasp.

He looks at you right now, the sunshine on your face; you look like you are glowing.

He watches you turn the pages of the photo album you held, turning them page by page, reminiscing about the past with him.

Your past on earth, your journey living in a strange planet, now currently your home, viltrum.

Settling down and having a loving family with him, with beautiful children that you've given him, raising them together hand in hand.

Struggles and challenges you've fought together, painful memories, turning them into wisdom and experience.

You had experienced great joy with him as he did with you.

He had never thought he'd meet someone like you.

You, who looks directly to his soul, that makes him yearn for your warmth and touch.

He held your hand; he caressed it, feeling the softness, studying its structure and veins.

He took your hand and kissed it, loving every fiber of your being.

You looked at him, how can you be so lucky to have him?

He was always there for you; your wedding vows remained unbroken, sealed tight, and everlasting.

He had promised to love you in every time, dimension, galaxy, and in the afterlife.

He loves to smell your fragrance that gives him comfort, avoiding insanity after fights from several wars from enemy races, he loves savoring them, letting the scent imprint on his mind, so may this scent remind him of you.

He has never been afraid of any enemy or challenges, as he willingly faced and fought them.

But the thought of losing you kills him slowly; although you were a strong, unwilting flower, you can never stay unwilted, as you must one day wither away and carry on your path, letting the cycle of your universe continue.

You were human; how cruel fate was, making him live in misery, afraid of losing the one thing that made him feel real and grounded—the only part of him that made him feel human, loved, and understood.

No matter how much you comfort him, his undying love has trapped him in a state of worry and insanity. Yet, no matter how old you both grow, you'll remain the same person in his eyes.

Cherishing and loving you for who you are, as he sees deep inside your soul, that stares back right through.

You were getting old; that was a fact, he hated how you only get to live until a hundred, and it's not even guaranteed anymore.

Although he makes sure you eat healthy food that originates from different planets to extend your life span, he offers it to you every day, feeding it to you.

He takes you out to explore different planets, the solar system, and even galaxies. He goes to those places first and makes sure it's safe for you to visit. He made sure to make your time with him worth it, and he made sure to capture every part of it.

He makes sure he brings the camera with the best quality in his pocket, of course, and takes the best picture like it's a portrait.

Years passed by, and signs of aging were showing, nevertheless, you still looked elegant, poised, and ethereal.

Mark had rarely taken you out of the house, scared of any possibility that there would be germs, viruses, and bacteria that would make you sick.

You were able to convince Mark to enjoy a walk in the park in Viltrum, enjoying the breeze of the wind that flew by; Mark had created one especially for you to remind you of Earth; most Viltrumites would visit and let their children spend time and enjoy leisurely.

You smiled admiring the trees, the playground, and the children cheerfully laughing, it had made you miss your own children as they grew old, and started to explore more outside of Viltrum, you sighed as you sat on one of the benches in the park, hand holding Mark's reminiscing and remembering times with you had with your children playing in this park.

One of Mark's new colleagues approached him, you had never met him, and he had never met you.

"Mark! It's been a while, how are you?" He greeted Mark

"I'm quite fine." He replied, not making the conversation any longer as he only wanted to spend his time with you.

"Who's this? They're very beautiful; are they your mother?" He curiously asked as you laughed; Mark didn't laugh; no, he was pissed.

"Calm down Mark, he doesn't know." You calmed him down putting a hand on his chest.

"I'm his wife, I'm human. As you can see I age faster than viltrumites." You explained.

"My apologies." He replied, "No worries." You smiled as he walked away.

Back at home, Mark was still pissed off at his colleague, making him clench his fists in anger as he started cooking delicious meals for you.

You sighed to yourself.

'How will I leave him, when thinking about it hurts so much, I wish I could spend every time I had within left, I don't want him to live a lonely life without me, and I also don't want him to join me earlier than intended, the children need him' You thought to yourself sighing as tears streamed down your eyes.

A few more years passed by you were bound to your bed, weak and unmoving, as Mark still reminds the same, but his heart hadn't as he went out and exhausted all of his resources to make you live until a hundred and twenty years, it had made you suffer as you could no longer handle it, Mark held your hand as tears streamed down your face, he ponders what to do so he could make you healthy again, smiling by his side, kissing him, hugging him and comforting him.

He didn't want you to see you suffer like this, was he being too greedy?

You gained the strength to talk to Mark, hoping you'll convince him.

"Mark..." You spoke as he looked at you.

"Yes, Y/N?" He asks.

"Please, let me go. I've had my fun in life, I'm happy that I married you, I'm happy that we had children together, but my time has come and it's inevitable-"

"Y/N DON'T, JUST DON'T SAY THAT." He yelled as he sighed.

"Don't think about leaving me." Muttered, hurt.

"Mark, I won't leave you; I'll be waiting for you in the afterlife, an everlasting utopia where we can be together eternally; I'll be there watching you, waiting for you." You explained.

"But it won't be the same, you're not here." He cried.

"I'll be with you forever, Mark even in death," You smiled

"I'll immediately follow you- I'll"

"Mark, you can't leave the kids behind; they need you, they need a father to guide them. I may have been with them my entire life, but they only have a fraction of me in theirs; don't let them lose a father too Mark."

He cried, begging for you to stop this nonsense, as you smiled at him too, begging for him to let go.

Tears streamed down your face as the heart monitor went to a straight line, his heart fell, his whole world had vanished, and he lost everything,

He spent his days mourning you; he had never remarried, and he made sure to take care of the children, guiding them as you had wished.

But he had never spent a single day not thinking about you.

He looks at the photo albums you used to hold and caresses every photo inside of it, reminiscing about every past event you had with them.

He talks to your grave, and he gives you flowers and white orchids that remind him of you.

He made sure you're updated with the children's lives as they grow older each day, each achievement, and reaching their goals.

He wished you could've been there celebrating with them, with him.

He wants to hold you dearly in his arms again, never letting you go.

Each day was torture waking up alone, in a cold and empty bed.

The only memories he has of you are the children and the photo album.

He woke up, ate, and played with your grandchildren.

Has he mentioned that they're already married?

He loved playing with them; even one of them had your facial features, and that's probably why he's her favorite.

He went on a routine like this for the rest of his life, his children had made sure they were there for their father.

Although whatever they tried, no one can bring back the joy he had when he was with you.

All they could do was comfort and be there for him.

As he laid down on his final breath, waiting to reunite with you in the afterlife, he had bid goodbye to his children, and your grandchildren.

They were worried about him as he lay weakly, holding your grandchildren's hand; they were crying and pleading for their grandfather to get well.

But he knew, and they all knew. It was his time to reunite with you.

He gave out his last breath, everyone cried for him.

But they all knew you were waiting for him on the other side.

Waiting for his arrival.

"Welcome home." You softly spoke as his eyes widened wasting no moment on hugging you.

He held you in his arms embracing you tightly, not wanting to let you go away from his grasp again.

"Were you waiting for a long time?" he asked, pulling away to look at your face and gently caressing it.

"I never left your side," you replied.

"I'll never let you go again," he said.

"I wouldn't want that, anyway," you smiled, leaning in to kiss him.

Two united souls, unbroken, sealed tight, forever together in every life.

[weebslawyer]

Il Capitano x reader (!fem !wife)

ANGST (based on the last AQ more or less)

AN: please excuse any grammar mistakes, English isn't my first language and I worte all this at 3am with blurry vision 😭

Words count: 1716

For five centuries, you had traversed the shifting sands of time, a quiet sentinel to the rise and fall of nations, the birth and ruin of dreams. The world flowed around you like a ceaseless river, its current reshaping mountains and cities, but you remained a stone beneath the surface—weathered, unyielding. Your soul had become a vast archive of echoes: the laughter of lovers turned to dust, the roar of battles etched in crimson, the whisper of civilizations swallowed by the maw of eternity. To endure beyond the reach of decay was not a triumph; it was a symphony played too long, a dance that outlived its music.

Beneath the shifting constellations, you stood as a paradox—unchanged as the stars rearranged their myths above him, eternal yet burdened with the ache of transient beauty. Eternity was not the gift poets promised, it was a weight that bent the very core of his being, a mirror reflecting centuries of loss. He bore it all—the unbearable light, the endless air thick with memory—not as a choice, but as a truth. You were the keeper of an unbroken vigil, a shadow in the unending dawn, a solitary defiance against time’s relentless march.

That's what you were.

Five hundred years passed since the fall of Khaenri'ah. The land still whispered its lament. Blackened spires clawed at the heavens, their jagged silhouettes etched against a sky that had long since forgotten the stars that once guided your people. The cursed earth beneath your feet bore the scars of divine wrath, its once-thriving beauty now a wasteland of sorrow and silence.

Five hundred years since the world forgot the name of your husband, now known as Capitano. Five hundred years since you fought alongside him for a better world, for the sake of Khaenri'ah people, for the safety of the royal family. Five hundred years since you were round and glowing with his children, their essence long gone now, their bodies dust in wind, the only remains are the little stones you created out of what was left, hidden and stored away. Five hundred years since you last touched your husbands soft, yet scared skin, a symbol of all the fights he has been through, always a champion, and formidable warrior. Five hundred years since you saw the face of the man you love so dearly. A man hunted by his past, a man hunted by his mistakes, his regrets. He was a strong man, and you knew that. He knew that. But yet, all you could do was to wrap your arms around him from behind, a simple gesture to show him that you are there, no matter what, no matter where his choices lead him. His hands always finding yours. The wedding ring, still shining on his finger, matching yours, triumphing over the pass of time, the countless battles. You were always there when he was reminiscing of that kingdom, a fragment of its lost glory, cursed with eternal life but stripped of everything that made life worth living. In his eyes burned the memory of the golden halls of old Khaenri'ah, now reduced to ash, and the faces of those he had loved, now shadows haunting his immortal heart.

Yet somehow, after the passing of time, of challenges, of loss and grief, it was only you and him, him and you.

You were a storm wrapped in flesh, the fire to Capitano’s shadow, a presence as unyielding as the steel of his blade. Where others faltered in fear before his masked visage, you met him with unwavering resolve, your eyes a mirror of his endless determination. From the blood-stained fields of battle to the silent corridors of treachery, you had walked beside him—not as a fragile tether to humanity, but as an anchor that steadied him in the tumult of his unrelenting duty.

You had seen him rise, a towering force among mortals, his loyalty bound not by sentiment but by a fierce, unshakable will. When the world turned against him, branding him a monster, you stood defiant at his side, your voice sharp as any blade, declaring his truth to a world deaf to honor.

In the quiet moments between wars and commands, you were the calm that soothed the tempest within him. You traced the edges of his mask with your fingers as if memorizing the unseen face beneath, whispering truths only he would hear. "You are not alone," you would tell him, her words a shield against the abyss of his solitude.

Through victories and losses, betrayals and triumphs, you remained. Even as the Harbingers gathered their might and the skies darkened with the weight of impending fate, you presence was his unspoken strength. You were not merely his wife but his equal, a force as indomitable as the tides, as eternal as the stars.

In you, Capitano found not just a partner but a reflection of his own relentless spirit—a reminder that even in the cold, merciless march of duty, there could still be warmth, still be love. Together, you were an unstoppable force, your bond a defiance of the world’s cruelty, your story a testament to the power of loyalty, love, and unyielding resolve, but no one will be able to learn about it.

The battlefield was eerily silent when the news reached you—a silence that followed the storm, a silence that mocked your fury. Capitano was gone. The unyielding tower of strength, your shield, your partner through centuries of unrelenting trials, had fallen.

Your breath hitched, with sorrow, but also with a rage so fierce it burned away any tears before they could form. They dared to take him from you.They dared to strike down the one constant in your life, the man who had fought against gods and monsters, who had endured a world that sought to crush him, and who had always returned to you.

You stood on the precipice of the world’s madness, your grief transforming into an inferno that would consume anything in its path. The stars themselves seemed to tremble as your voice split the air, a cry of mourning and of war. A war so painful yet so devastating on your soul.

"Capitano," you whispered, your hands trembling as you looked at him, sitting on a throne that held no king, but a throne that held your lover, the man of men, the warrior of all warriors, the man that long ago was holding your children

"I swore I would stand with you through everything. And now, even in death, I will not abandon you." You said as you slowly approached his lifeless body.

You slowly crawled closer to him, pain eating your soul alive, seeing him like this destroying you. You made your way on his lap, a place where you always find comfort through storms and angry thunders, but this time his arms couldn't comfort you anymore, they couldn't wrap around you anymore, soothe you again. You could hear his weak breathes, a body who's soul long left. You looked at him while your tears where washing your face, not seeming to stop soon. Your trembling hands reached to pull his mask off, to see the man. To see your husband. To see the man that promised you eternity.

"You were my strength" you murmured into the night, your voice a steel-edged whisper. "Now I will be yours."

You spoke softly, even if the tears in your eyes made everything so hard to see. You put his mask on your lap, so now your hands can touch his face, feel the cold skin against your fingers. Your touch so gentle, not wanting to hurt him even in death. You took in every detail, like he will vanish the second you close your eyes.

"You promised me I won't lose you too. Not after everything, my love. Not like this." You whispered biting your lip, before speaking again "I don't know if you will ever hear me, if you are even around like a stray ghost, but I promise we will meet again soon. I will hold you again, kiss you, and love you all over again in the afterlife. Just don't forget me until then, my brave warrior. Oh my love, my peace, my place, my forever. This time be my light through the darkness" you said, kissing his cheeks, his forehead, and his lips one last time, cradling at his chest, being close to him like that, your mind slowly calming down, remembering all the comfortable moments like that, where being in his arms and presence where the only moments of peace in your life.

You spend days like this, not moving in the slightest from his lap. Moving away from him would feel like a divorce. But slowly, beside the immense pain that threatened to rip your heart out, anger started to settle in. Was his sacrifice necessary? Was there anyone to even pretent his heroic act? Why did death consider now that it's time for Capitano to join him and leave you here all alone? You had all those thoughts, crying and breaking down every time you remembered where you were. Pain consuming you hole, whispering to take your revenge, to destroy whoever did that, to hunt down everyone who let this happen.

Your fury was a thing of legend, a tempest that dwarfed even the wrath of gods. You would not rest until you knew the truth of his fall, until the blood of those responsible stained the earth beneath your feet. The Harbingers would hear your fury, the Archons would feel your wrath, and the heavens themselves would tremble beneath your rage. They took every from you, they took the melody that lingers in the chords of your soul, his name the refrain in your heart that keeps singing.

And unfortunately, your vengeance was not reckless, it was calculated, cold, and precise. Every step you took was deliberate, every strike a tribute to the man who had fought for a world unworthy of him. You would burn the skies and sunder the earth if it meant avenging him. For you, love was not a gentle thing, and your anger, born of loss, would not be silenced until the scales of justice were balanced—until those who had taken him paid in kind.

[soulshaped]

let me get what i want this time

remus lupin x reader | friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, slow burn

a/n: please, please, please let me get what i want by the smiths will never ever fail to remind me of remus. i was going to make this one part, but i got carried away… there will be more parts i promise!!! this is year 1 

part two

wc: 5.1k

The moon taunts him from where it rests so very far, far away. It is the picture of serenity against the dark night sky and it seems to him as if even the surrounding stars kneel to its great light, head bowed, praying.

Son of the moon, obey me, let go and give in, give in to the wolf, just for the night

The voice is clear, booming and omnipresent, and Remus knows he can not escape it. But still, he is just a boy. He hasn’t received his letter from Hogwarts yet, and he does not know if he ever will. His bones begin to break, over and over again. The skin of his back tears, opening and closing to reshape itself over his growing form. He writhes on the cold, wet cellar floor until the transition becomes just bearable enough for him to roll to a stand, unsteadily. His teeth sharpen, his eyes darken under the moonlight. He is in complete agony, he is alone, and he is just a boy in the body of a wolf. 

The next thing he remembers is the sun kissing the horizon at dawn, waking up gently, like him. The lightened sky is just bright enough for Remus to see the silhouette of his fingers without squinting, confirming that he has the hands of a boy once again. It would be brighter if it wasn’t for being in Wales, if it wasn’t for the days of unbroken clouds above him. He’s not particularly sure where in Wales they are by now, having moved around so often and so quickly for as long as he can recall. Even his earliest memories are of packed bags, rushed whispers, night drives. Loving fingers wound tightly around his little wrists, pulling him deeper and deeper into the mountains. Away from his little home on the coast with the bushels of wildflowers and tall grass he yearned to play in. He wanted to stay there, he wishes he could’ve stayed forever, but it’s far behind him now. 

His father should be coming to free him soon enough. There are heavy metal bars on the windows above him, though Lyall’s magic was doing most of the work to keep the wolf’s chaos contained within the basement walls. Remus knows that he does not mean to be cruel – that his parents are only out of options, not of love. They tried for years and years to find a cure, or even temporary escape from the monster always lying dormant inside of him. The healers had nothing to add to the limited knowledge they had already acquired from ancient books, they knew nothing at all. So Remus knows his parents have only ever wanted what is best for him. But the cellar is cold and damp, his head is pounding incessantly and he yearns for laughter, he yearns for the house by the coast. He prays to a God that he’s sure doesn’t exist. 

Dumbledoor shows up at his doorstep a few moons later. He enters through the front door, blown like a great wind. Lyall and Hope greet him politely, but Remus can see the shock hidden beneath their calm demeanor. He can see how Lyall’s hands have a mild quake as it meets Dumbledoor’s calm, warm palm. Remus shivers too, in hope of a new life. He stands behind his father, but the older man spots him quickly and slips him a small grin. It was nearly imperceptible and it felt like a gift. The tea is still warm when Dumbledoor stands to leave. The meeting was short and concise. Remus would be attending Hogwarts come next September. The life he longed for suddenly seemed close enough to taste.

Fall comes faster that year. Just as the tips of tree branches begin to shine in a golden hue, Remus stands on a train platform surrounded by more people he’s ever seen. He finds his only comfort in his father’s warm, steady hand resting on his shoulder. The train conductor blows the horn in final warning and Remus turns to find his mother holding back tears. He can’t seem to find the right words to say. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Oh, darling, don’t ever be,” Hope kneels down to meet his anxious eyes before continuing, “we only want what’s best for you.”

She picks up his case, pulls his nimble fingers over the handle and covers her hand over his in a quiet, gentle embrace.

“Hogwarts is waiting for you, Remus.” 

He smiles toothily and bids them a farewell, promising to owl as soon as he can. He braces himself as much as possible before stepping onto the train and is immediately overwhelmed by the flurry of fellow students rushing about the corridors, presumably searching for their friends. Luckily, he quickly finds an empty train cart. 

At least what he believes is an empty train cart.

In the very moment he sets his case down, a boy with brunette hair and crooked wire glasses pops his head out of what seems like thin air beside him. His head is excitedly floating about as his body (Remus hopes exists) is still invisible to the eye. 

“Hiya! I’m James Potter!”

“Um… wha-”

“Oh! Sorry mate, I was hiding from my friend, Peter. I really wanted to scare the trousers off of ‘im.”

James’ body is instantaneously visible as he grips a glimmering blanket in his hand. He bundles it up to rest as a messy lump in the space between them. 

“So… what’s your name?”

Remus opens his mouth to answer when he’s ambushed once again. This time, by a very flustered, freckled boy out of breath.

“James,” he squeaks in relief, “there you are, I’ve been looking for you all over this train!”

Remus assumes this must be the Peter that James was referring to. He looks towards Remus with a curious gaze, as if he was nervously sizing him up. It confused Remus greatly, as he didn’t really see himself as threatening, but maybe it was the scars. No one has ever really seen them, outside of his family and himself, so he couldn’t exactly predict a stranger’s reaction to them. He feels the heat traveling rapidly to his cheeks and turns his eyes to the floor. He can almost hear the wolf laughing at his own timidness. 

“Well, I was trying to scare you, but he found me first!”

“Who’s this?” 

“He was about to tell me before you rudely interrupted us, Pete,” James says without a hint of malice.

Remus looks up to be faced with widely different expressions. While Peter’s eyes are slightly narrowed, James’ eyes are wide and enthusiastic, paired with the widest smile he’s ever seen. It’s infectious and he can’t help but smile back. 

“I’m Remus. Remus Lupin.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lupin.”

“Hey! Who are you lot?”

Another head pops into the compartment, which seemed to be growing smaller and smaller by the second. Remus sees the long, black hair first, before a very clean, cut boy with striking grey eyes comes into focus. 

“I’m James Potter, that’s Peter, and that’s Remus. And now, you’re caught up!”

“My family hates yours,” the stranger declares confidently as he pushes in the rest of the way, “it’s perfect.” 

He plops down across from Remus and next to Peter in a great huff. 

“I’m Sirius Black. Anyone want a chocolate frog? I’ve bought about a million to just peeve off my mother.”

Peter jumps in excitement as Sirius empties an entire sack solely dedicated to chocolate frogs. Remus' stomach rumbles with anticipation, it was going to be a very eventful year it seemed. 

The journey passes too quickly, Remus thought, even quicker with the company. As the train pulls into the station, Remus can just make out the aged stone walls on the very top of Hogwarts’ pointed towers. As the carriages pull them closer and closer to the castle, Remus feels a pull of anticipation from the growing pit in his stomach. He knew what was to come in the Great Hall; the Sorting Ceremony had terrified him for weeks, ever since Dumbledoor paid him a visit in Wales. 

He knew Lyall was sorted into Ravenclaw when he attended Hogwarts, a house known by all of the wizarding world for their daring intelligence and wisdom. What if he was sorted into a different house, what would his father think? What if he was sorted into Slytherin? He had felt the harsh disdain and fear in Sirius’ gaze when Slytherin was brought up as a possibility, as if the entire house was a stain on Hogwarts itself. Remus swore he was going to be sick at this rate, maybe he could miss the ceremony entirely and be unsorted. 

Two girls and a boy with long black hair sat across from him and the boys in the Great Hall. His hair was much shorter than Sirius’, and it was cut bluntly, adding a harsh sharpness to his frown. One of the girls had red hair that flowed gracefully down past her shoulders that were bouncing in excitement. The other was more distracted, her nose buried in a muggle book he’d heard of once or twice before. She had an incredibly peaceful smile, in such great contrast to the other boy that it was almost amusing. The more Remus looked at her, the more at peace he felt – all of the noise in the Hall dimmed around him in the nearness of her calm demeanor, a needed break. He looked away immediately when she turned up to meet his unintentional stare, red flushing across his pale skin. But when he peeked at her again from the corner of his eye, he saw that she was turned towards the front of the room now with the same, kind and knowing upturned lips. 

To his relief and (equally as intense) shock, Remus was sorted into Gryffindor. All four boys now sit under the great red and gold banners together. James’ is unable to contain his proud exclamations at all of them, seemingly getting more obnoxious and simultaneously admirable by the second, while Sirius’ head seems to be forever hidden in his arms as he softly bangs his head into the wood he rests on. 

“I’m as dead as dead can be,” Sirius groans into the table, “Walburga is going to hex me into the next century.” 

James smacks a hand on his back, but leaves it resting there, gently. 

“It’ll be alright mate, we’ll be right there with you, together! We’re Gryffindors now! All of us! There’s nothing we can’t do, we’re unstoppable!” 

His energy was undeniably infectious, even pulling a smile out of Sirius who lifted his head to rest his chin on his hands instead. 

“Potter, we get it! Enough, please, for the love of Godric, just let us all eat in peace for a moment,” the red head, Lily, exclaims from a few seats away. 

The other girl, (Y/N), bursts out laughing with her head thrown backwards. 

“Girls… who even decided to invite them anyway…” James mumbles, only ever so slightly disheartened by Lily’s scolding. 

Remus smiles so hard, he finds his cheeks hurting from the tension. He hopes this feeling lasts forever.  

-

The fall of his first year passes in a blur. Sirius’ birthday is the height of the season, with all four boys deciding to pull their first grand prank in celebration. Though Professor McGonagall did not seem to appreciate the exploding toilets as much as Sirius did. 

Moons are just as difficult, even with Madam Pomfrey’s much needed aid, but Remus finds the break from his friends and schoolwork make his returns to normalcy more exciting than he could’ve ever imagined. It’s everything that he yearned for, and yet he’s still awaiting the inevitable fall of the curtain. To reveal what he’s secretly always believed, that this great life was never made for him, that there has been a grave error in placing him, of all people, in the midst of all of this incredible joy. He’ll wake up, one day, and the fantasy will cease to exist. It would be much more believable than his current reality. 

It doesn’t help that so much of what his friends know is a complete fabrication, but it does help that he is the only one constantly worrying about the entanglement of his own lies. No one, to his knowledge, has come to suspect anything, yet. Remus thinks that this may still be due to the distracting excitement of their first year practicing unbelievable magic, but he’ll never be one to kick a gifted horse in the mouth, however temporary. 

He tries to push aside these incessant thoughts and draw his attention back to his work scattered across the table before him. The library is eerily quiet as the evening draws to a close, but he welcomes the silence wholeheartedly. The joints in his knee continue to seer with pain with every wrong step, a result of the most recent moon, but he finds that the complete stillness of the library at this hour helps.

Suddenly, a loud crash sounds a few feet away and Remus jumps. In the same moment, a girl yelps.

“Shoot!”

Remus hurriedly glances around him to find you picking up a concerningly tall pile of books. He can barely see your face behind them. As he starts to arise from his seat to help, pain shoots so far up from his knee he can practically feel it in his throat. He sits back down quickly. 

You manage to balance the pile on the corner of the long table and stand back in a huff. Your eyes meet his own in shock.

“Oh! Remus, hi!”

“Hi, (Y/N). That’s a lot of books.”

“Tell me about it, I don’t know what I was thinking, really, taking out so many,” you sigh.

“Couldn’t help yourself, I suppose?”

“Seems like it, huh?”

For the most part, the first year boys in Hogwarts seem to be in a constant state of annoyance towards all girls, any girl. Godric knows Lily and James have been bickering non-stop since the Sorting Ceremony. 

But, Remus likes you enough, he thinks. You’re really nice to him and you laugh at almost anything. It makes him want to laugh and he isn’t used to it, it’s never come as easy to him as it does to you. He would never see peace again if he ever admitted his real thoughts to the boys, though. They would definitely think of it as a clear betrayal of everything they stand for – girls are the worst. 

“Sorry for the ruckus, by the way, you seemed to be really focused.” 

“It’s alright, wasn’t really doing much anyway.” 

“Well, in that case.”

You plop down into the seat across from him and immediately take the first book perched on the very top of your mountainous pile. He looks at you questioningly. 

“At least one of us should do something productive in this silent library.” 

So the two of you sit peacefully, on opposite sides of the table, reading. Remus isn’t sure how long you’re really there for though. The next thing he remembers is waking up and wiping the drool from his chin as Pince looks down at him in reprimand. 

“You have a bed, Lupin, I suggest you use it.” 

Remus clumsily shuffles to a stand and starts to gather his things when he spots a single chocolate frog resting inches away from his quill. There’s a note attached in scratchy writing,

‘Sleepyhead!!!’

A corner of one of his blank parchments is torn off. Remus carries the frog happily in the pocket of his robes as he limps past Filch, grumpily hanging Christmas garland in the halls. 

-

The holiday season rushes towards them in a hurry, carrying with it a new air to the castle. Maybe it is the layers of snow blanketing the surrounding land, barricading students indoors and leaving them to sprawl lazily across common rooms, deep into the night. Maybe it is the anticipation of their well-earned breaks, buzzing like electricity through their tired fingertips as they rushed to complete their final assignments. Or maybe it is, simply, a combination of all of the above, creating a surge of unrealized energy that seeped into the very walls of Hogwarts. Remus can nearly feel it in the soles of his shoes beneath him as he leaves his very last class before break. It seems as though his friends are a victim to this as well, considering he can hear their yells from three corridors down. He finally approaches the group, their noise reaching a peak as he nears, whilst James and Sirius wrap around his and Peter’s shoulders as they lead them back to the Gryffindor tower. Conveniently so, Remus supposes, as he hears several cauldrons explode at once behind them. By the end of dinner, rumors of ruined classrooms and chalkboards signed with utmost sincerity from the Marauders would be the talk of the school.

“The Marauders, huh?”

“I think it’s catchy,” James grins. “Don’t you think so, Remus?”

“Well, it’s definitely the best of the ones we came up with.”

“And it looks even better written down,” Sirius sighs happily. 

Peter squeaks, “For the whole school to see as well!”

Remus awakes earlier than usual the next morning, eager to soak in just enough of Hogwarts to get him through the holidays. The guilt of dreading his return to Wales is overshadowed by the upcoming full moon, the memory of the basement, and the tired eyes of his father that will follow. The reality of his life, despite his best efforts in ignoring it, is waiting for him on the train platform, just a few hours from now. The overcast sky mirrors his darkening mood, but the incessant snoring from the beds beside him inevitably makes him smile. He knows he will desperately miss the feeling of never being alone for long, even if it’s only for the next few weeks. 

As he swings his legs off the edge of his bed to come to a stand, he accidentally knocks something onto the floor. He doesn’t remember leaving anything at the end of his mattress the night before. It’s a bundle, wrapped (horribly so) in festive paper and when he picks it up gently, he finds more of them resting on top of his comforter. 

They’re presents. For him, supposedly, at least according to his name scribbled messily on the tags. 

The most expensive ones, a huge box filled with dozens of chocolate frogs and a brand new quill set, came from James and Sirius, respectively. Peter got him a box of Bertie Bott’s along with a nice note thanking him for his help in classes, wishing him and his family a Merry Christmas. Madame Pomfrey gifted him two small vials, a Pepper-Up potion and a Sleeping Draught, presumably anticipating his moon at the end of the month just as he was. 

There was one more, the only one addressed to him in fancy cursive. It was a muggle book, Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, wrapped in a big red bow with delicate gold trim. It was in rough shape, clearly used, with small markings in familiar handwriting all over the text. He’d seen you reading it once as he passed you by in the halls, but he didn’t think you’d seen him. There was a note as well, politely wishing him happy holidays with your name written in the same pretty cursive at the bottom. 

“Found your presents did you, Remus?”

Sirius was sitting up from his open four-poster bed across the room, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“Uh, yeah,” he responds, quickly tucking the book under his covers. 

The curtains from the bed on his left rip open aggressively, revealing James’ wide smile, 

“Well?! Do you like them?”

“Of course! I’m sorry I didn’t–” Remus turns away, unable to stop his cheeks from heating up, but hoping he can still hide them. “I didn’t realize you guys were getting me gifts. I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything yet.”

“Don’t worry, Remus, I’m sure we’ll like whatever you get,” Peter chimes in. 

Before he can respond, Sirius throws a quick glare towards Peter on the other side of the room,

“Remus doesn’t need to get us anything, if he so pleases.”

“We don’t need anything in return, Remus. It was just a little something from us, no biggie, really,” James responds, more sincere than ever before. It was almost unnatural, given his usual joking tone laced into his every word. 

“Thanks,” Remus directs at them before throwing Peter a smile, hoping to quell the much too wounded look on his face, “and I’ll definitely be owling you guys your gifts for Christmas Day.” 

They moved on from the subject quickly then, their stomachs rumbling out for breakfast. Remus reminded himself to carefully pack the book you’d given him in between his cloaks later, just so he was absolutely sure your note wouldn’t get damaged. 

-

For most students, returning to Hogwarts castle in the thick of winter was an unpleasant experience. Even after the constant excitement and adrenaline that comes with the holidays, students quickly descended into restlessness almost as soon as they stepped foot back on the snow-covered land. It wasn’t uncommon to overhear the groans and pleas for spring – the inevitable months of rain that would wash away the snow and bring new life. They were desperate for something brighter, something livelier. 

Luckily for everyone, the Marauders seized all of this pent-up energy with vigor. Winter was officially the season of mischief, and they had a high standard to uphold after their iconic pre-Christmas prank. Remus found himself returning to the dorm after long days in the library only to see Sirius and James whispering and cackling at the foot of his bed more often than not. To their credit, they had various texts splayed open on their laps, though none of them were related to their courses in the slightest. 

Remus, on the other hand, thought his research skills could be applied better elsewhere. He’s already read most of the beginner and elementary books in the library, after all. 

Ever since he found a hidden cubby behind a small tapestry in one of the corridors on the way to Transfiguration (completely by accident, it was Severus’ fault for practically pushing him into it), it was all he could think about. It tugged at his attention constantly – in classes, in the common room, in his dreams. His curiosity for all of the other hidden spots throughout the castle–there must be hundreds in an establishment of this age–could not be quenched, not until he’d found them all, or most of them, at very least. 

James’ invisibility cloak became infinitely useful for his purposes and given the endlessly gracious nature of his personality, he never once asked Remus what he needed it for. Remus would have told him, told all of them actually, if they asked. But they hadn’t yet, so he didn’t mind having a non-wolf related secret to himself. It almost made him feel normal. 

He didn’t need the cloak tonight, though. It was still early and a while before curfew; the sun had just set when Remus finished his work, casting the sky in a mixture of pink and purple hues as he walked along the open hallway past the Transfiguration courtyard. It is getting closer and closer to spring now, and he has been able to push his boundaries of discovery even farther than ever before with the weather on his side. He’s found nooks and crannies all over the castle, so many, in fact, that he’s begun to wonder whether he should draw up a map soon. He’s thinking about this one particular spot tonight, behind a statue of an awfully hunched back lady with one eye, that he’s sure is something… if only he could find just the right spell…

As he turns the corner, Remus stumbles upon the first spot he ever found, behind the tapestry, same as before. Almost mindlessly, he pushes aside the thick, dusty fabric, not knowing what he was expecting to see. He nearly jumps out of his skin when all he can see is a dark mop of hair hunched over onto a dim ball of light. As the thing, whatever it is, turns around, he opens his mouth to scream. For a second, he thinks he is screaming, before he realizes the sound is coming from your mouth instead. 

The gears finally begin to click into motion as his eyes dart from your familiar face (currently looking horrified) to the wand in your hand casting the Lumos charm. In your lap rests a rather large novel that you had snapped closed in your panic – it was The Count of Monte Cristo. 

“What’d you do that for?!”

“Me?” Remus gapes at you. “You! You’re the one curled up creepily behind the tapestry!” 

“Well… leave me to be creepy, then!” You huff. “What are you doing? Sneaking around peeking behind all of the castle’s tapestries?”

“I–I wasn’t… it’s none of your business!”

You narrow your eyes at him as the outer corners of your lips tug upwards slowly, as if directed by a puppeteer with a string. It sends a chill down the length of his spine, and he convinces it’s the residual fear from when he hadn’t known it was you. 

“Alright, then.” You drop your annoyance instantaneously, shrugging your shoulders as if you really can’t be bothered. 

“At least help me out of here, would you, Lupin?” 

He quickly wipes his hands on his robes, just in case, before offering up his palm. Your small hand slips into his with ease as he tugs you lightly up and out of the hole. It’s cold, much colder than his, but he tends to run hot. It feels nice. Once you’re in a standing position, however, you unfortunately take your hand back to rest on top of the book in your arms and Remus isn’t able to relish in the physical touch for as long as he would’ve liked to. 

“Shall we head back, then? It’s almost curfew.” You say distractedly, glancing down at your wristwatch. 

“Sure,” Remus shrugs. 

You don’t ask him again about why he was looking behind the tapestry, and he doesn’t ask you about your choice of reading spots. Thus, the pair of you are left in relative silence, with only your footfalls echoing along the cobblestone walls, in tandem. 

As the Fat Lady portrait accepts the password and swings open, Remus gestures for you to enter first. He quickly follows, stepping into the toasty common room to find you stopped in front of his friends and Lily, lounging on the couch. All of their eyes morph into various different expressions–confusion, suspicion, amusement, a mixture of all of the above. Sirius’ eyes look especially full of mirth, but just as he opens his mouth, Lily kicks him from where she lays on the carpeted floor. You and Remus exchange a quick, confused look, causing Sirius to actually scoff. 

“Well… anyway, bye Lupin.”

Lily walks over and winds her arm around yours, tugging you up the stairwell to the girls’ dormitory. 

Remus sits down in front of the fireplace, facing his best friends, looking down at him questioningly. 

“What?”

“He dares to ask us what?” Sirius guffaws.

“Are you two… friends?” James asks, one eyebrow raised in a slight curve. 

Remus shrugs, “I don’t know… I guess? I’ve only talked to her a few times.”

He doesn’t dare mention your Christmas gift, definitely not now, maybe not ever. 

Sirius frowns, clearly displeased with his response. “You better not replace us with her.”

“Of course not. Girls suck anyway…”

It lacks the confidence Remus was aiming for, but it seems to do the trick. Sirius laughs, James smirks, and Peter nods, all in agreement. They quickly move on to other topics, mainly discussing the upcoming prank they’ve planned. Soon enough, their yawns become more and more frequent and they head to bed. 

Remus finds it hard not to smile as he remembers your angry expression after being scared.

-

Spring comes and goes quickly, and not before long, the sweltering heat of summer becomes almost suffocating. The Shrieking Shack, in particular, is unbearable in the heat. Still, he is dreading his return to Wales. 

At the end of course exams, when all his first year work has finally come to a close, Remus gets a letter delivered directly from Professor McGonagall. The look on her face is unclear as she hands it to him–it doesn’t seem as though it is good news. But surely, if he was being kicked out of Hogwarts, if they decided that the wolf was too much, too dangerous, they would tell him in person and not through a letter. 

He sits on it for much longer than necessary. It’s one of the last nights in the dorm, when all of the other boys have gone to bed with light hearts, he sits with his own in the pit of his stomach. It weighs heavier and heavier with each breath, so he tears open the letter in a blind panic, just to try and rid himself of this feeling. 

His eyes scan over the words as fast as he can, but it’s a short letter and the meaning fails to make any sense. He goes back to the top, reading it slowly this time. It tells him to go directly to St. Mungo’s to meet his parents, as soon as he arrives at King’s Cross Station. It provides some vague instructions on how to get there, before ending with a few explanatory words. 

Please ask the front desk for Hope Lupin’s floor and room number upon arrival.

Remus is many things, but he is not shocked. He is guilty, for feeling so much dread about returning home, all while his own mother was sick and stuck in a hospital, likely wishing to be anywhere else. Maybe, if he hadn’t spent so much time angry at himself, angry at the world, maybe things would be different. Maybe if the wolf never existed, Hope would still be healthy. The stress, after all these years, couldn’t have been good for her health. Remus is many things, but he is not shocked. He was not foolish enough to ever let himself fully believe that he could be happy here, finally get what he wanted. Misery seems to always follow him wherever he goes, even all the way to Hogwarts, and he wonders helplessly if he will ever be free from it.

[devotedsweetheart]

heey i have a request, can you do a ff with caleb and mc in highschool? with just like the basketball player caleb and the pretty mc. in ao3 theres no ff abt this 😭

pd: I LOVEEEEE YOUR POSTS!!!

of course my dear anon!!! this was so fun to write, i hope this is what you had in mind :'). if not, just lmk and i'll start on writing another one;))) enjoyyy!

he had a soft spot for you. always.

regardless of how much he teased you, pushed your buttons, or made you look a fool; there would be moments of unbroken eye contact that stayed lingering, hinting at something deeper.

caleb was popular. everyone knew his name. heck, everyone knew him, he was friends with basically the whole school. except you. he does actually know of your existence though, he just refuses to acknowledge it, only when he's picking at you does he truly. you guys have known each other for your whole entire lives. going to the same exact schools together every single year without fail... it was almost like he was following you.

he promises you he dislikes you with a passion. that he couldn't stand being in the same room with you for longer than an hour, that he would do anything to get away from you; and you feel the same. he's absolutely and utterly agitating, being in his mere presence pisses you off. he makes it his life goal to make your existence as a whole miserable, doing things such as purposefully tripping you in the hallways to make his friends laugh, or kicking the back of your chair in the middle of an exam, knowing how distracted it makes you. if you even dared to do so little as turning around and shooting him a glare, he'd just grin and do it harder, more often.

little did you know, he survives off the looks you give him. it's what keeps him going.

and so, when you decide one day that you're going to ignore him for the rest of the week, he goes insane.

literally.

on day one, monday, he didnt think much of it. maybe just assuming you didnt get much sleep, or perhaps you're going through a friendship breakup, something small like that. when you dont react to his little acts of crudeness toward you he still thinks nothing of it. he just assumes you think you'll make him stop if you ignore it.

by day two, tuesday, he's still not too concerned by your silence. he's still just convinced you're ignoring him out of annoyance (...which isn't a lie), and therefore it doesnt bother him too much.

wednesday, he's confused. he has started to attempt to annoy you more than he usually would, taking it upon himself to take your same route to your classes... even if it meant he'd be tardy for his own. he wanted a reaction out of you, almost needed it. he thought about it when he woke up, staying in the back of his mind throughout the day. during the classes you had together, he'd sneak small glances at you to make sure you looked okay.

thursday, though, he'd been thinking about it all day long. it was now stuck in the front of his mind, plaguing it completely. he didnt realize how much he missed having the small banters each day with you, how easy it was to rile you up. how much he craved it. even during his after school practice, his performance was borderline terrible. it wasn't like him at all and his friends began to notice. he's usually awfully good at basketball, one of the best on the team (if not the best) and for him to be slacking this bad?? diabolical. he was making it difficult for not only him but the people surrounding him. when asked what was going on, he'd simply shrug it off and ask to go take a drink of water, trying to shrug off the thought of you as easy he did with his terrible execution of basketball.

on day five, friday, he'd actually gone insane. he couldnt focus at all during class, constantly looking over at you to try and get you to look at him. he'd been throwing himself in your paths the whole entire day, putting in an obnoxious amount of effort just to make eye contact with you; even if it was for a second.

it was so bad to the point that he went up to you at the end of the day before you got onto your bus, asking to talk.

he persisted and persisted, not caring how many times you said no.

he was ecstatic when you finally agreed.

pulling you by your limb to the end of a sidewalk where only few roamed, he let go of your forearm and turned to face you. it was awkward for a few seconds, the two of you never having a real conversation outside of bickers.

he cleared his throat.

"are you... okay?" he asks, eyes flicking to yours to see if you'd give away how you felt at his question before you verbally answered. your eyebrows raised before scrunching up again, a look of confusion written all over your face.

"um.. yes? why would you ask me that?" you answered, oblivious to just how much he cared. he looks away to a spot above your shoulder, embarrassed to stare directly into your piercing gaze.

"i don't know. you've just been, like, nonverbal.. in a way," he says, looking back into your eyes before looking down again. "it's like i pushed you too far. i don't ever mean what i say, i don't ever mean to actually hurt you."

at that, you break out into laughter, and it grabs his attention.

"you 'don't mean to hurt me?'" you point out in between cackles, adding quotation marks around the words. "what kind of joke are you trying to pull? do you understand how annoying it is to have to deal with all your bullshit all the time, caleb?"

he winces at your words, the sly grin you have plastered on your face only making it worse for him. he wishes terribly he had the balls to tell you how he feels, but not only is he scared of the feeling itself, but he's terrified of how you might react.

"i know. i know, and i apologize." he whispers.

"you apologize?"

"i apologize."

you cross your arms over your chest, one eyebrow raised as you lean into your hip. "apologize for what?"

he simply looks at you, too embarrassed to formerly say a sincere apology. instead of saying anything, he flicks his eyes between yours and sighs. "for taking you over here to talk. i just wanted to figure out what was going on and why you weren't talking to me."

you look at him with a dull shock on your features, eyes going a hint wider than they normally sit.

"i, um, didn't know you cared. you make it seem like i annoy you sooo bad so i just stopped interacting with you." you confess, hoping to actually get to him instead of getting made fun of.

his expression is almost unreadable, eyebrows drawn tight and eyes blinking rapidly. his lips are pulled into a straight line and you can tell he's having a difficult time trying to maintain eye contact.

"i.." a beat of silence, tongue flicking out to lick his lips. "i'm sorry. i'm a dick, and i know i am. if i tell you something, will you promise to not make fun of me?" he questions, swallowing thickly.

you blink up at him. "sure, go ahead." you hesitantly say, fixing yourself to stand up a smidge straighter.

he clears his throat for what feels like the thousandth time, taking a gulp of air before saying everything he's feeling in one breath.

"i've realized over this past week that you're something i look forward to when i wake up. someone i think about when i'm writing an essay, playing at a game, or even listening to music. i'm sorry for picking on you so much and i'm sorry for being a complete asshole to you. you've always been someone i've taken interest in and the only way i found that gets your attention the most is being rude to you. i know it's messed up, but i can't help it. i'm sorry."

theres a long pause of unspoken words and tension hanging between the two of you, gazes locked while your mouth hangs open; trying and failing to say something. after a moment, all you can manage is a small "wow." his face is a deep shade of red, showing just how embarrassed he is without having to say it.

"can you please say something else so this isnt so awkward." he murmurs, desperation and discomfort clearly etched into his face.

you only giggle breathily and look him deep in his eyes.

"me too, caleb. i feel the same way."

thats when he holds his breath, leaning in quickly to kiss you- not giving you time to pull away.

[bluehourbucky]

New beginnings

pairing: postblip!bucky x reader

summary: bucky finally comes back to you after being gone for 5 years and a little surprise awaits

a/n: Little late to the party but I just cant stop thinking about post blip bucky returning to his lover and the road to healing

warnings: pregnancy talk, therapy mentions, angsty, fluffy, long, happy ending

~~~~~

5 years ago

"I'll see you soon,doll."

Bucky holds your face in his hands, gently wiping tears that were running down your face. You promised you wouldn't cry, but you can't stop, after everything he's been through, you don't want to let him go. Wakanda has been kind to him and you understand why he has to fight but you want to be selfish.

You don't trust your voice, so you just kiss him with everything you have.

"Where is he?" you scream at Steve hitting him in the chest, your sobs filling the room.

"I don't know"

"I can't-" you choke, "you have to bring him back" your voice breaks. You slide down on the floor and sob.

"I'm sorry" you don't listen and you don't really care, you just need Bucky.

Maybe it's not healthy but you shut down and leave Wakanda somewhere where no one can find you, Shuri helps you, she understands your grief and promises not to tell Steve which you appreciate.

It was supposed to be just you and you never planned on going back to Wakanda so soon but things change. You're late and you're never late and you're afraid of what that might mean.

"No, I can't. I'm not." Shuri looks at you while you crumble before her eyes. The tears start falling, and all you can think about is Bucky. How would he react, would he want the child, would he be as terrified as you are right now.

"I'll let you think about it, but whatever you decide we are here for you. "

This is crazy you say as you're going back home to your little cottage in the middle of nowhere, prenatal vitamins tucked in your bag as well as some other natural stuff from Wakanda.

Pregnancy is hard as is but doing it alone almost impossible.

The morning sickness the dizziness, the constant ache of your body. But it was all worth it.

Because when you see the shiney blues of your daughters eyes, same as Buckys just in a tiny human your heart grows three sizes. She's perfect and so small you have no idea how to care for this tiny being.

But somehow you manage and your little girl grows, so fast you forget all the sleepless nights and all the tears and frustration.

You moved to a small town where you're not surrounded by nothingness. And her little three year old head is interested in everything and everyone. And when you take her to a museum dedicated to captain america and Bucky you're filled with guilt and longing.

You've been telling her stories about him, showed her pictures and she listenes with wide eyes and wonder.

"Mommy look Daddy!" she runs through the halls and points at every single picture of Bucky.

"Pretty!" she says as she looks at one of your favourite pictures of Bucky. Its the one from the 40s where he's still unbroken, untouched by Hydra.

"Yes baby." you whisper and kiss the top of her head.

She's just pure joy in such a tiny little body, like your own personal sun. You don't even notice the years go by.

present day

and then one day people start coming back.

The news are on TV and you turn up the volume.

"The great sacrifice of Tony Stark will not be forgotten as so many are reuniting with their loved ones who disappeared 5 years ago."

You don't dare hope even if Bucky returned you don't know if he survived the battle. But that night you cry like the first time you lost Bucky.

~

"Where is she Steve." Bucky asks again this time he shouts at his friend.

"I swear I don't know." Steve says sadly guilt eating him up for so many reasons.

"Was she?"

"No she-"

"Well why the fuck dont you know where my girl is. You're supposed to protect her. You promised."

Steve just lowers his gaze and is once again overwhelmed with sadness of failing his best friend once again.

"Sorry to intrude but I can help you with that."

Bucky's eyes full of tears look at Shuri with hope and desperation.

Buckys palm sweats and he wipes it down his jeans, he fixes his hair more times than he could count. He doesn't know what awaits for him behind the wooden doors of this small house that completely looks like something from your dreams.

What if you're married, and your husband opens the door or worse you see him and hate him for being away for so long.

And with heavy heart he knocks.

And he then is met with a little girl, two braids one on each side, flowercrown on her head, her little hands covered in flour from what he can tell. And then he looks into her eyes and his hearts drops.

"DOROTHEA JAMIE BARNES WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT OPENING DOORS TO STRA-"

you stop in your tracks when you see the man standing in the doorway.

"Bucky?" your hands shake your voice flaters.

"Daddy! You're back! I have so much to tell you!"

Your daughter grabs Buckys metal arm and leads him inside, and you watch a super soldier get dragged away by a four almost five year old.

Bucky doesn't move when your daughter sits him down and sits in his lap, settling herself in as if it's the most normal thing ever. Like she's done it a thousand times.

She talks and talks and he tries to listen the best he can, but most of his energy is going into trying not to cry or shake. He tries to meet your eye but you don't let him. Knowing that if you do that both of you will break and you can't do that just yet.

So you just return to the kitchen and make lunch as if nothing is out of the ordinary like you're not just seconds away from having a breakdown.

"I'm hungry now, mommy makes the best potato's and the best pie. I loveeeeee potatoes. Do you like potatoes? You have to like potatoes."

This tiny human again leads him where she wants to go and he is putty, just absolutely defenseless against this little girl.

You don't trust your voice so you just serve lunch without a word. Your daughter fills the silence with her stories, most of it is incoherent since she talks with her mouth full.

"And then Mr Bear took Mr Dinos arms!"

Bucky chuckles softly at her story of the huge crime that happened during tea time. He steals glances at you and his heart hurts. He can't imagine what you've been through and yet here you sit.

"Thank you for food mommy. Me and daddy are gonna play now."

again she grabs his hand and luckily she doesn't see the tear rolling down your face.

The day passes incredibly slow and yet too fast.

"She's out." The first thing Bucky says directly to you as he holds a little human close to his chest

You nod and lead him to her bedroom. The bedroom is painted yellow, little drawing on the wall some yours and some hers. Flower stickers on the walls and the bed. Little mushroom light on the bedside table turned off and on the top of a shelf two pictures. One with you and her and one of him.

Bucky slowly, sets her down in the bed and tucks her in her little hands holding onto his shirt which he gently removes.

"You're back. You're really here." you reach out and barely touch him before Bucky pulls you to his chest and hugs you. His metal arm around your waist and the other holds the back of your head, his face buried in your shoulder and your face in his neck. He breathes in and you smell like home, like love. Your sobs break his heart into million pieces.

"I'm sorry." Bucky chokes.

"I thought you were gone, I thought I'd never see you again."

Bucky then looks at you, like really looks at you, and he takes in everything. The way your body changed, the way you hold yourself, the way you grew without him, and how he'll never get those years back. He'll never understand the loss and fight you faced and he wishies he could and then the fear sets in. How can he fit here with you when you're so much further ahead.

"I missed you Bucky. More than words can describe. Can you please hold me. Just tonight and tomorrow everything can be hard but tonight I just want easy."

Bucky is not going to say no, he couldn't but the war happening in your head when you get to the bedroom is hard not to notice.

"I can wait outside." he whispers.

"No it's okay. It's just I'm not, my body isn't what it was."

Bucky is the first one to take the clothes off he stays in his boxers and settles in the bed while you stand in front of the dresser your nightdress in your hands, still dressed fully.

Bucky watches, he barely breathes as you slowly take off your shirt, your back turned to him, and then the pants. He sees your hips got wider, the stretch marks on your thighs and hips. You quickly take off your bra and put on your night gown. It's down to your knees. Your breasts much bigger than he remembers. But you still look perfect in his eyes. He opens his arm and you lay on his chest.

"You're breathtaking, doll." you sigh anad look at him.

"Bucky, you don't have to lie."

"I would never lie to you, I promised." He caresses your cheek and you close your eyes.

"I still love you. I want you here with us, but I want you to be sure you want that too. I know it's a lot and I have changed and you don't have to meet me here but - "

"Doll, there's nothing in this world that can now keep me away from you, I want this, I want you and I'll try my best to be the man you need."

"Bucky, I don't want you to be what I want. I want you to be okay. I want you to heal, to get here in your own time. I'll talk to Thea, you can take time. It's going to be hard." Bucky takes your hand in his and gives it a gentle kiss.

"I know baby. But I can do it. I love you."

"Okay. Love you too"

and you finally after so long you fall asleep in the arms of the love of your life.

~~~

The first month is great, Bucky is back and at that time it was all you needed but then everything started going downhill.

At first everything was perfect, you finally had what you've been wanting, a family with Bucky.

He's perfect, he wakes up first, cooks breakfast plays with your daughter, helps with chores and it's fine. Until it isn't.

"Bucky no. She can't have ice cream for breakfast and lunch."

"But-"

"No buts."

Your daughter cries and has a tantrum and you can see how much it hurts Bucky but you're not going to let it go.

"Bucky you can't keep leaving your arm in the dishwasher."

"No you can't let her climb a tree."

"You shrank all of our clothes."

And it's the little things that annoy you, where he just disregards your parenting, where he doesn't buy the right groceries or just moves things without telling you.

And then one day everything blows up.

"Its bed time Thea. Now."

you tell your daughter who refuses to go to sleep.

"No." she stomps her little foot and fights back.

Silly little no, that she didn't learn from you.

"I said now."

you know she's going to be grumpy if she doesn't sleep now and the next day she's going to be tired and impossible to deal with. It's bad enough she already ate candy before dinner.

"Maybe we should-"

"Bucky stop. She has to sleep now, you can't let her everything she wants, she doesn't know better. So no. Bed time is now."

"I hate you. You're the worst mom ever. I don't want to live with you I want to live with daddy."

The silence that follows is painful. You could hear a pin drop. You feel as if you've been slapped in the face.

Then after a few moments, your daughter starts crying. She doesn't understand why but you know, she sees your tears and a tiny part of her brain realises she hurt you but doesn't know what to do with that.

"Bed now." this time she listens and walks to her room, her tiny feet padding on the floor as she sobs.

"I'm sorry." Bucky says barely a whisper, not being able to look at you. He fucked up big time and he's scared.

"I don't want to hear it. I've been telling you for weeks. You don't listen or you don't care to listen. You can't be here if you still feel guilty. Guilt will get you no where, and you need to forgive yourself first for missing out, your life stopped when you blipped mine didn't. You instead you could do it. But you can't. And I don't hold that against you, but you do it to yourself. Please I can't help you, as much as I love you, I can't do it."

You walk into your daughters room and her quiet sniffs break your heart.

"Hey,bub." she sits up and wipes her tears with her sleeve.

"I'm sorry mommy. You're the best mom ever. And I'm sorry." she hugs you as tight as her body lets her.

"It's okay baby. Mommy's not mad and I forgive you okay. I know you didn't mean it. It was grumpy monster because you were late to bed time yeah?" she nods in your chest and sniffs.

"I love you the mostest in the whole world."

"Love you more bug. Night baby."

"Night mommy." she turns and in minutes shes asleep, exhaustion taking over.

When you walk into your bedroom you see Bucky sitting at the edge of the bed crying,his clothes scattered down on the floor and bag halfway packed.

"I called T'Challa they're gonna pick me up in the morning."

you sit next to him and he finally breaks down. You hold him while he cries, chants apologies. You cry with him, all the hurt you took alone you now share it with him. It's almost 3am when you finally go to sleep.

"I'll miss you. But I know this is the right thing to do." You nod and listen to his heart.

"I know. We'll be right here waiting for you."

The morning starts rough, you sleep in and your daughter already had a meltdown because she's hungry and then when Bucky tells her he's leaving for a while she's inconsolable.

"Don't leave please! I promise I will sleep at bed time. I will not look at candies and I promise not to put dirty socks under the couch!" she cries and holds onto Buckys leg. It's hard to watch.

"You put dirty socks under the couch? I thought an animal snuk in and stolen our socks?"

you say surprised, the socks have been disappearing like crazy and the culprit was in front of you all along.

"Uh no?" she stops crying as she realises she accidentally told you something you don't know.

"Listen baby, this is not your fault at all, Daddy is just going to help some people, remember the stories I told you?" she nods, and Bucky looks at you his eyes soft.

"Okay, be safe daddy. And please come back!" she gives him a wet kiss on his cheek and he puts her down.

"I'll see you soon, okay? I'll call when I can and I love you."

Couple of months pass and it's torture, Thea asks about Bucky every day and you miss him too. You talk from time to time, you can see he is tired and emotionally drained but he's getting better and it's all that matters.

"Mommy will daddy come for my birthday tomorrow?"

"Maybe, we'll see."

you don't want to ruin the surprise but Bucky is definitely coming and he's going to stay. He might not be completely healed but you two talked and it's going to be okay.

"MOMMY IT'S MY BIRTHDAY."

your daughter jumps into your bed and shakes you awake.

"I know baby, happy birthday."

"Where are my gifts?" She asks and starts looking around the room. Ah ever the materialist your little girl.

"Well I think one is waiting for you in the kitchen." she squeals and runs down.

"DADDY." you hear her scream from downstairs.

"You're here! Really here." She hugs him tightly.

"I promised, didn't I?"

Bucky spends all day with her, it makes you happy to see them happy. He looks incredible and healthy.

"Yay! Cake" your daugher claps when she blows out the candles. She smiles and laughs when both of you start kissing her.

The day ends and everyone is exhausted, you softly close the door after tucking her in.

"I am so tired, I don't think I've ever been this tired. Which is crazy cause I've had 2 hour long therapy sessions." you laugh and lean on Buckys shoulder.

"Who would've thought a 5 year old has so much energy?"

You two change and lay in bed.

"This is my first birthday with her. How did you do it?"

"I have no idea. Honestly."

Bucky hugs you closer.

"Thank you for waiting for me. Thank you for being you."

"I love you,doll. Thank you for letting me back in and giving me a chance."

"You deserve it Bucky.

You deserve happiness."

And Bucky believes you and he's so excited for the future.

[starshimmering]

What Now? | Poppy Playtime x Reader

Fandom: Poppy Playtime

Genres: Sad, Uplifting, Alternate Universe

Word Count: 1,786

Synopsis: You defeated the Prototype and managed to escape with both the children and the toys you saved. All of you escaped through the front doors before the factory exploded. As you all watch the factory slowly burn, one thought came to your minds: what now?

————————————————————————

The entire factory of Playtime Co. erupted like a volcano. Plumbing fire and smoke through the air, scorching winds roared forward along with clouds of smoke. Y/N ducked as hot air rushed over you. Some of the mini Critters and Huggies screamed from behind their bigger siblings. The roaring explosion tore through yours and everyone’s ear drums. A black fog of noxious smoke hung in the air.

Y/N shifted your gaze back at the factory. Peering through the building that was now engulfed in flames. Poppy was perched on your shoulder, her small frame contrasting with the explosive display in front of you; her eyes fixed into the burning building with a frown and clinging close to your neck. Kissy Missy stood beside you as she too watched the Play Co. factory burn ablaze.

Fragmented memories flashed in your mind as you watched the factory you thought you knew burn. All the employees you worked with during your time working there, the innocent people you befriended; the many laughs you shared with them. Knowing that they’re all gone and you’ll never get to see them again. It broke your heart.

You couldn’t find your employees and saved them.

But at least you saved all the toys and the children.

Y/N frowned as you stared straight ahead. No, you were wrong. Some of them couldn’t be saved. There were still hundreds of small toys in that factory, but you weren’t able to round any up. And of course, a much more notable absence was prominent. Ollie had betrayed you and Poppy. They turned out to be another splinter of The Prototype’s mimicry, and had died along with it.

Dogday watched beside you to your right. Bobby Bearhug, Craftycorn, Bubbaphant, Hoppy Hopscotch, Kickin, and Picky gaze at the dancing flames behind their leader. Doey observed the flaming factory with wide eyes, his giant hand placed over his chest. Boxy Boo was standing a little far from the others, keeping a safe distance from the group while watching their hell of a prison burn. Yarnaby watched the illuminating sight beside Boxy with a tilt of his head.

Mrs. Delight stood quietly next to Huggy. Her bandaged face is testament to the struggles she had endured. The absence of Barb weighed heavily in the air, a reminder of the bond they had shared amidst ten years of being alone. With a heavy heart, Mrs. Delight had relinquished the weapon, her decision fueled by the promise of freedom from the factory's oppressive walls. The memory of Y/N’s sincere apologies echoed in her mind; she had brushed them off, knowing that accidents happen in such a frantic environment.

But the pain in her back, a lingering reminder of the door that had slammed down upon her, was a constant companion. A supportive brace encircled her torso, a symbol of both her resilience and the trials she faced. Yet her spirit remained unbroken as she contemplated the future that awaited her outside those grim confines.

Mommy situated beside Mrs. Delight to the left. One of her arms had been ripped off, and her whole body would’ve been maimed had Y/N not yanked her from the shredder. She decided to help him after that; had she not been saved, she’d have been added to The Prototype’s body. The missing arm was replaced with a new one that Y/N made for her, although it wasn’t pink like the original. The new stretchable arm was black with a red hand (the one she took from Y/N) attached to it.

Catnap watched with saddened wide eyes. Compared to everyone else who knew that the Prototype was insane, Catnap genuinely believed that what he was doing was right. That staying in the factory was better now that the adults were out of the way, but then things kept getting worse and worse. Food became scarce, the factory, with no one to do maintenance, is falling apart. But he continued to cling to that hope that the thing that saved him will continue to protect him.

Then one ex-employee changes everything in one night. The tight control his savior had on his home began to wane and loosen, friends who became traitors joined his side, and yet he clung on to the false hope that his savior will protect him. Only for him to almost kill you too. It is because of the kindness of that ex-employee, revered an angel by the heretics, that he saved him, away from the grasp of the god that just betrayed you in your most vulnerable. It is that same night that the heretics win, his master has fallen, everyone is truly free.

The remains of the factory, a tormenting hell and yet...their home, burns ablaze. The sins of the evil adults cleansed by rightful fire.

But it was still his home.

Huggy was internally satisfied with what he was seeing. Sporting a bandage wrapped around his head, likely a result of an unfortunate encounter with a pipe. Like Kissy, he too was captivated by the Playtime Co. factory set ablaze. For ten years he was imprisoned in that hell hole. Following Leith’s orders with no way of fighting back his command, which extended to the Prototype.

But he didn’t have to worry about that anymore.

He was free.

This feeling extended to the bigger nightmare critters.

Baba Chops never thought this day would come. It was hers and her friends’ greatest dream: her along with every single toy in the factory, marching towards the exit; striding towards freedom that they have longed for decades. She had always thought a day like that would be nothing more than a pipe dream. Oh, how wrong she was. Had it not been for Y/N’s never ending kindness, she wouldn’t have gotten the chance to see the light of day as she is now.

“So…what do we do now?” Hoppy spoke up.

Y/N turned your head when Hoppy asked that. All the toys shifted their gaze towards you. Hope and wonder washed each toy’s countenance that extended to another. You took a deep breath.

“Well, calling a taxi is out of the question. There’s too many of you guys to fit in,” Y/N replied.

Y/N turned your gaze toward a building not too far away from the factory.

“There’s a train over to that station,” Y/N said, pointing at the faraway building. The toys followed the direction to which you pointed. “If we set it right, the tracks should take us to the direction of my home town. Once we reach our stop, we’ll have to walk to make it to my house. We’ll figure out what to do next once we get there.”

Y/N shifted your gaze back at the toys.

“I apologize if my house isn’t what you expected,” Y/N said, rubbing your nape with your hand.

"Don't apologize, Y/N. I'm sure it's not even that bad,” Poppy replied, forming a small smile. Kissy Missy nodded in agreement. “See? Even Kissy agrees with me!”

Dogday also nodded in agreement.

“Agreed. Nothing will ever be as bad as the factory, Angel,” Dogday added, smiling down at you.

Bobby stepped close to you with a happy smile.

“Dogday’s right. We’re all free now and you're here with us! That alone makes things a lot better,” Bobby chimed, her tone laced with genuine enthusiasm.

Y/N turned your head when you heavy thumps drawing close to you. You turned your head to see Doey approaching you.

“And wherever you go.” Doey stops in front of you whilst smiling down at you. “We are with you.”

Hoppy nodded in agreement. “All the way.”

All the toys surrounding you nodded in silent agreement. Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the amount of support he was receiving from your friends. You parted your mouth open, as to say something until you paused. The sudden reaction extended to the toys when all of you heard the sound of blaring sirens from far away.

“The police,” Poppy muttered under her breath.

You frantically looked between the train station and the flashing red and blue lights slowly but surely approaching your position.

“Everyone! To the train station, hurry!” Y/N shouted.

Y/N and the group surged toward the train station in a frantic dash for safety. You ran at the forefront as you propelled himself forward, arms pumping with urgency. Poppy was back perching on Kissy’s shoulder. Flanking them were the towering figures of Kissy Missy and Dogday, their immense forms a protective barrier as they cradled a little boy and girl in their arms. Both big and small toys added a whimsical yet desperate element to the scene, each one driven by an instinctual need to escape the authorities looming behind them.

Hoppy Hopscotch and Kickin Chicken sprinted behind the pair with urgency driving their every step. Hoppy cradled two unconscious girls in her arms, their small forms limp and vulnerable, while Kickin carried a little boy who appeared to be still asleep, his head resting against Kickin's feathered chest. Craftycorn, Bobby Bearhug, Picky Piggy, and Bubbaphant chased after them, their hearts pounding with a mix of concern and determination. The strong thumps of Doey’s feet echoed through the air, each clomp resonating like a drumbeat as he followed closely behind. The mini smiling critters, along with the mini Huggies, Scout, and Medic raced alongside the group, each of them pushing their limits. Trying their best to keep up with the fast-paced rescue mission unfolding before them.

Mommy Long Legs stomped heavily on the floor while keeping up the pace with Doey and the others. Bunzo Bunny clung tightly to her back, his heart racing as he fought to maintain his balance, every jolt threatening to send him tumbling off. PJ Pug-a-Pillar darted alongside them, his agile movements allowing him to nimbly speed past the spider toy. Yarnaby and Pianosaurus raced together behind the frantic trio, their breaths coming in quick gasps as they pushed themselves to escape the looming danger. The little nightmare critters found a precarious refuge on the vibrant, rainbow-furred back of the toy animal, clutching desperately as the world around them blurred with speed. Huggy and the bigger nightmare critters charged at the rear of the group, their determination evident as he matched strides with Cat-Bee and Candy Cat.

Mrs. Delight was also running at the rear close to Huggy. She pumped her arms and kicked her legs as she trailed after the others to the train station.

You didn’t know what future will be from here on out. But you and the toys you’ve adopted will face it.

Together.

[novaursa]

Ashes of the Faithful

- Summary: After Faith of the Seven has sent an assassin to kill you, Maegor declares war against the gods.

- Pairing: niece!reader/Maegor I Targaryen

- Note: This story is part of Fire and Blood series, and it happens right after Fragile Hope. The masterlist is pinned to the top of my blog.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The flickering light of torches casts an eerie glow over the Great Hall, illuminating the black banners emblazoned with the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen. The air buzzes with the voices of lords and ladies gathered to celebrate Maegor’s victories and his long-sought return to the Iron Throne. A bitter smile plays across your lips as you shift your hand to rest protectively over your stomach, feeling the soft, burgeoning weight there—the promise of Maegor’s heir. After years of separation, of exile and whispered prayers in the cold halls of Dragonstone, you’ve finally returned to his side, bound by his unbreakable will. Maegor’s unwavering gaze follows you as you rise to mingle with the guests, his expression one of fierce pride and possessiveness.

The evening wears on, and you share fleeting glances with your husband from across the hall, silently marveling at the sheer force he exudes even from a distance. Though your union remains contested by the Faith, and many openly despise him, none would dare deny the power Maegor wields. The hall quiets as he rises to make a toast, raising a goblet of wine.

"To House Targaryen, unbroken and bound by blood and fire," he declares, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that commands attention. "And to my queen, who carries our future within her.”

The guests raise their goblets, voices mingling in a chorus, though you can see the apprehension in some eyes, the covert glances exchanged by certain highborn lords and pious knights, wary of the Faith's condemnation.

As the applause fades, you make your way toward the shadows for a brief respite from the crowd, grateful for a moment to gather your breath. But in the next heartbeat, the chill of steel presses against your throat, and you realize—too late—what is happening. The assailant’s voice is a venomous hiss in your ear, dripping with fervent conviction.

“Your unholy union will end here, for the gods do not suffer blasphemy.”

You struggle, reaching instinctively to shield the precious life growing within you, but the assassin’s grip is unyielding. A muffled shout erupts somewhere in the hall, and the clash of steel on steel fills the air. In the chaos, you’re suddenly yanked backward as Maegor’s knights descend upon the attacker. The glint of Maegor’s own sword, Blackfyre, catches the torchlight as he strides forward, his face a mask of pure, unrestrained fury.

His voice is a low snarl. “Who sent you?”

The assassin glares defiantly, his eyes bright with fanatical zeal as he spits, "The Faith will never bless your bastard line."

The words are met with the brutal swipe of Maegor’s fist, sending the man sprawling. Maegor’s rage is unmistakable, a tempest waiting to be unleashed. He barely spares a glance for the blood pooling beneath the assassin as his gaze shifts to you, his voice softening, though the raw intensity remains.

"Are you hurt?"

You shake your head, reaching a trembling hand toward him. "Our child… I feared…"

He clasps your hand in his, grounding you with the weight of his presence. “No one will dare harm you again,” he promises, his tone as unyielding as iron. His thumb brushes over your knuckles, a rare display of tenderness that only you are allowed to see, and in his eyes, you catch a glimpse of the lengths he would go to keep that vow.

The assassin, barely conscious, is dragged upright by Maegor’s guards. Without hesitation, Maegor approaches, towering over the man like an avenging shadow. “Tell me the names of those who sent you,” he demands.

When the man remains silent, defiance flickering in his gaze, Maegor lifts his sword. Blackfyre’s blade gleams ominously in the torchlight, and his words are laced with icy finality. “If the Faith dares to send another of your kind, I will burn their septs to the ground. And you will be the first to watch.”

A ripple of fear passes through the onlookers, their expressions a mix of awe and terror as they watch their king take vengeance. Maegor turns to you, his voice softer. "Return to your chambers, Y/N. I will handle this."

Though you hesitate, knowing the bloodshed to come, you nod. "I trust you, my king," you whisper, pressing a hand to his cheek before leaving.

In your chambers, guarded on all sides, you try to steady your breathing. The shadows outside flicker, signaling the torches carried by men as they move through the halls. Soon, shouts echo from the square below, where you know Maegor has gathered his court to witness the assassin’s fate, a display meant to instill fear in any who would challenge his claim—or threaten his family.

As you sit, the quiet hum of life within you reassures you. Whatever comes, you and your child are shielded by the relentless force of Maegor’s love, a love bound in fire and forged through blood.

Hours later, he returns, smelling faintly of smoke and steel, his eyes softening when they meet yours. "It is done," he murmurs, his voice a mixture of exhaustion and conviction.

You reach for him, pulling him close, and whisper, "Thank you, Maegor. For us… and for our child."

He presses his lips to your forehead, a rare, almost reverent gesture. "No one will take you from me, Y/N. Not the Faith, not the realm. None can come between us."

And in that moment, beneath the pale moonlight, you believe him.

The dawn breaks in a haze of gray clouds, but for you, the morning feels no less ominous. You watch from a high window in Maegor’s hall as Balerion, the Black Dread, spreads his wings wide across the sky, casting an enormous shadow over the land. Maegor’s resolve is unshakable, and he has vowed that the Faith will answer for their transgressions. He has given orders, brief and absolute, his voice carrying the weight of his fury. None could miss the look in his eyes—the wildfire rage that demanded to be sated.

As he prepares to mount Balerion, he approaches you, his gloved hand reaching out to tilt your chin upward, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes, dark and relentless, seem to devour you.

“This realm has mocked me for the last time, Y/N,” he says, his tone simmering with a quiet rage that sends a chill through you. “They do not know loyalty or respect; they only know fear. I will make them remember it.”

You rest a hand over your belly protectively, feeling the faint stir within you, as if the child growing there senses the dread. “And the Starry Sept?” you ask quietly, knowing all too well what its destruction would mean, not only for the Faith but also for the Hightower family—his late wife’s kin.

His lips twist into a cruel smile. “That den of false gods and hypocrites? It shall be the first to burn. None will dare to insult my queen again.”

You nod, feeling an odd mixture of fear and awe as you stand beside him. The Maegor before you is no longer just a man—he is a storm incarnate, a maelstrom of fury bound to a creature of fire and shadow. “They will see Balerion’s flame from miles away,” you murmur, almost to yourself.

He leans in, his hand settling over yours on your stomach, where his heir grows. “I do this for you and for our child. So you will live without fear. So our child will not know a world that questions his right.”

You swallow, feeling the intensity of his words and knowing that, in his twisted way, Maegor does love you deeply—perhaps as much as he can love anything. “Come back to me,” you whisper, pressing your forehead against his. “Return to us, Maegor.”

He gives you a rare, almost tender smile, before pulling away, the steel in his eyes returning. “Wait for me, Y/N,” he says, his voice firm. “By the time the moon rises, the Faith will feel the fire of House Targaryen.”

With that, he mounts Balerion, and you watch as they rise into the sky, becoming a dark silhouette against the dawn. The moment they disappear over the horizon, you turn back into the hall, nerves tingling with the knowledge of the destruction to come.

The Starry Sept in Oldtown stands proud as it always has, a beacon of the Faith’s ancient power. Its towering walls, adorned with stars and golden trimmings, seem almost untouched by the passage of time, a testament to its sanctity. The Faith Militant, dressed in their glinting silver armor, stand guard outside, their hands resting on the pommels of their swords.

And then, a shadow falls over Oldtown.

The people in the streets look up, gasping, children screaming as they behold the black shape in the sky, his massive wings blotting out the sun. The bells of the Starry Sept toll, signaling a warning, but it is already too late. Balerion lands with a bone-rattling impact, his claws digging into the earth just outside the grand doors of the sept. Dust and debris fly as the ground trembles beneath his weight. The Faith Militant immediately raise their shields and swords, but they are little more than ants to the dragon that towers over them.

Maegor, seated upon Balerion’s back, calls out, his voice echoing like thunder through the city. “I am Maegor Targaryen, your rightful king! And I declare the Faith Militant enemies of the realm!”

There is a murmur of defiance from the knights below, and one of the septons dares to raise his voice. “You blaspheme, Maegor! The gods themselves deny your union. You will face judgment!”

Maegor lets out a short, humorless laugh, glancing down at the man with disdain. “Then let your gods protect you from my wrath.” He raises his arm, signaling to Balerion.

With a rumbling growl that reverberates through the stone walls, Balerion opens his jaws, and a torrent of fire bursts forth, consuming the sept’s doors in an instant. The flame spreads with terrifying speed, licking up the stone walls and turning them to blackened, smoking ruin. The Faith Militant try to flee, but Balerion’s fire is relentless, consuming them as they run, their silver armor melting, the flesh beneath charring to bone.

The people of Oldtown watch in horror from the streets and rooftops, their faces pale, their voices strangled with fear. Maegor’s voice rises above the roar of the flames, clear and unyielding.

“This is what happens to those who defy the Crown,” he shouts, his voice filled with the fury of a man wronged for too long. “To those who think they can take my queen from me.”

The sept’s grand structure crumbles as the fire sears through wood, stone, and glass alike. The stained glass windows, depicting scenes of saints and the Seven, shatter in the intense heat, raining shards upon the Faith Militant and those unfortunate enough to be nearby. Balerion’s fire leaves no sanctuary, no corner of the sept untouched. Statues of the gods melt under the flames, the Seven themselves reduced to ash and rubble, as if even they cannot withstand Maegor’s wrath.

From his perch atop Balerion, Maegor watches with an unsettling satisfaction. His expression is grim, merciless, as he surveys the destruction below. The High Septon himself, garbed in his white and gold robes, flees the Starry Sept, clutching a holy tome to his chest as though it might shield him from the flames. Maegor’s gaze locks onto him, his mouth twisting into a sneer.

“You, who claim to be closest to the gods, will not escape their punishment,” Maegor calls, his voice carrying across the square.

The High Septon falls to his knees, raising his trembling hands in a plea. “Spare me, Your Grace! I have served the gods faithfully—I am but their humble servant!”

Maegor’s face hardens, the glint in his eyes cold and unfeeling. “Your Faith sent assassins after my queen, my child,” he growls. “You will burn for that.”

With another signal, Balerion releases another torrent of fire, engulfing the High Septon in a scorching blaze. His screams echo through Oldtown, a terrible symphony of agony that seems to reach even the highest towers of the Hightower itself. The onlookers, paralyzed by fear, watch as the flames consume the last remnants of the Starry Sept and those who served within it. The High Septon’s cries fall silent, leaving only the crackling of fire and the distant sobbing of townsfolk horrified by the display of power.

As the Starry Sept collapses in a smoldering heap, Maegor directs Balerion to soar higher, circling the ruined city below. His gaze sweeps over the Hightower, a place where he once lived when he took a wife from among their daughters—a wife who dared to defy his queen, to question the place of Y/N at his side. Her blood, like that of the septons below, was shed without hesitation. Maegor has always ensured that no voice rises above his own, not even those of the gods.

But now, his voice rings out again across Oldtown, a decree that none can ignore.

“Let it be known throughout the realm,” he declares, “that the Faith Militant and any who align themselves with the false righteousness of the gods shall face the same fate. No man, no god, no Septon shall question the rule of House Targaryen or my right to claim my queen.”

The words echo in the silence, seared into the minds of all who listen, the weight of them settling upon the city like a brand. And then, with a final glance down at the burning ruin below, Maegor commands Balerion to rise, leaving a trail of smoke and ash in their wake.

Hours later, Maegor returns to the capital, his armor and cloak singed, his face streaked with soot but unbowed. You wait for him at the entrance, heart pounding, watching as he dismounts Balerion and strides toward you, his gaze hard and impenetrable. Yet, as he nears, that hardness softens, if only slightly, as his eyes meet yours.

Without a word, you reach for him, pressing a hand to his chest, feeling the heat still radiating from his armor. “You’ve done it, then,” you murmur, barely above a whisper.

He nods, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders, his grip firm but protective. “No one will dare threaten you again. They have seen what becomes of those who defy us.”

You meet his gaze, searching for the man beneath the rage, the one who has risked everything for you, who will stop at nothing to secure the life of the child growing within you. “And the Faith? Will they stop?”

His jaw tightens, and his voice lowers, almost gentle but carrying a fierce undercurrent. “If they don’t, I will burn every sept in the Seven Kingdoms until not a single one remains.” His hand slips to your belly, resting there possessively. “They will never again come close to you or our child.”

You nod, feeling the weight of his promise, the depth of his wrath. Maegor may be feared, hated even, but in his own brutal, unyielding way, he is yours, and he will keep you safe no matter the cost.

He steps back, exhaling, his eyes never leaving yours. “Tonight, let the realm know that House Targaryen’s fire is boundless,” he says, his voice softer now, almost a murmur. “I will destroy all who oppose us. And in time, they will kneel, knowing they have no choice.”

In that moment, you feel a surge of fierce pride, not only in Maegor’s power but in his loyalty, however ruthless. With him, you will carve a place in this unforgiving world for your child, even if it must be forged in flame and blood.

“Then let them see,” you reply, matching his intensity, feeling the strength of his determination coursing through you. “We will stand together, and the realm will learn to fear us.”

Maegor’s hand tightens over yours, a silent vow exchanged between the two of you. And as he pulls you close, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, you know that whatever comes next, you will face it together—bound by blood, fire, and an unbreakable loyalty that no god or mortal can shatter.

[accio-boys]

lost in his dance part 2 | fiyero x reader

author’s note; this whole part 1 & 2 is actually inspired and based on In the Heights, Mr Lin’s musical that got me so hooked atm. this part 2 got me really i don’t know 🤷🏻‍♀️ btw guys im taking requests and prompts 🫶🏻 merry christmas and happy holidays 🎄🎁😘 btw here's part 1

Days turned into weeks, and the silence between you and Fiyero remained unbroken. He threw himself into his studies, determined to prove—both to himself and to you—that he could change.

Every moment spent working was a step toward becoming the version of himself he wished you could see. He’d seen the disappointment in your eyes when you left, and it gnawed at him more than he cared to admit.

He would sit for hours, poring over textbooks that once seemed meaningless. The endless sea of notes and assignments that felt like a mountain to climb now seemed like a challenge he was determined to conquer.

But no matter how many times he read over the same paragraph, he could never seem to shake the thought of you. Your face. Your words. He had promised himself he would fix things, but every time he looked in the mirror, the person staring back at him seemed like someone unworthy of your forgiveness.

One afternoon, as he walked across the grounds with Elphaba and Galinda, he found himself distracted once more.

“I’ll admit, I didn’t expect you to actually start doing your assignments,” Elphaba quipped, her voice dry but carrying a trace of admiration.

Fiyero chuckled softly but didn’t respond immediately. His mind, as usual, was elsewhere.

Finally, he said, almost to himself, “Someone told me once that hiding behind charm and parties isn’t living—it’s running away.”

Both women glanced at him, their gazes following his, as it landed on you.

Across the lawn, you stood laughing with your friends, radiant in the sunlight, carefree in a way Fiyero had once admired. You seemed to be light years away, lost in a moment of happiness that didn’t include him.

Elphaba and Galinda exchanged a knowing look. Galinda, ever the optimist, nudged him with a grin.

He swallowed, his throat tight. The guilt that had been lingering at the edge of his consciousness now settled like a weight in his chest.

“I’m trying,” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.

"I want to be better, but I don’t even know where to start."

“Maybe start by telling her the truth,” Elphaba said softly. "The one thing you never seem to do."

Fiyero didn’t respond, his heart aching as he watched you disappear into the crowd, your laughter ringing in his ears.

As the semester drew to a close and winter break approached, you prepared to return home to your family. There was a certain finality to packing your bags that unsettled you, as though you were preparing for an end that wasn’t entirely resolved.

But there was something more pressing to do. Something you hadn’t been able to get out of your mind.

The gift sat in your room—a small token of appreciation you had purchased weeks ago, long before the argument with Fiyero. You had considered leaving it behind, convinced that a gesture from the past wouldn’t fix what had been broken.

But in the silence that had stretched between you, something in you refused to let it go. This wasn’t just about the gift; it was about closure.

You found yourself standing outside his door before you could talk yourself out of it, knuckles rapping against the wood with a steady, rhythmic beat.

The door swung open to reveal a surprised and slightly disheveled Fiyero. His hair was tousled, his shirt slightly unbuttoned at the collar, and his eyes widened at the sight of you.

“Y/N!” he said, his voice a mix of shock and nervous energy.

“What—what are you doing here? Come in!”

You stepped inside, the familiar space feeling strangely foreign now. He hastily cleared a chair for you, pushing aside a pile of clothes from the bed.

His flustered demeanor was a far cry from the aloof charm he usually exuded, reminding you of the Fiyero you once knew—the one who always seemed caught between effortlessness and chaos.

“I, uh… I got you something,” you said, holding out the gift. Your hands were shaking slightly, but you forced yourself to maintain composure.

His brow furrowed in confusion as he took the package from you. “You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” you interrupted, your tone firm but soft, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between you.

Fiyero unwrapped the small package, revealing a bottle of chilled champagne.

His eyes flicked from the bottle to you, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “No way…”

You nodded, the corners of your lips turning up slightly. “Cold champagne. Before I leave for break, I thought we could celebrate.”

Fiyero hesitated, the familiar glint of mischief dancing in his eyes as he grinned. “Alright, but I have no idea where Galinda keeps the cups.”

You laughed, feeling a sudden rush of warmth in your chest. “Who needs cups? We’re drinking straight from the bottle today.”

As he wrestled with the gold foil, you watched him, feeling a bittersweet ache. You had missed him more than you were willing to admit, but this moment—this quiet, shared moment—felt like a small step toward healing.

“Y’know,” you said, your voice quieter now, “Elphaba told me about the effort you’ve been putting into your classes. I’m proud of you, Fiyero. I know it couldn’t have been easy.”

He paused, glancing up at you with a sheepish smile, the weight of his recent efforts clear in his eyes. “Thanks. It means a lot, coming from you.”

You nodded, your chest tightening with emotions you weren’t sure how to name. “Before I leave, I just… I wanted to say that. And maybe take a walk with you—like old times.”

He looked at you, his expression softening, his eyes searching yours as if weighing something unspoken.

“Yeah,” he said, setting the bottle aside. “I’d like that.”

But as you turned to leave the room, something in you faltered. The words you had buried for weeks threatened to spill over.

“Fiyero,” you said, your voice trembling slightly, an unexpected vulnerability creeping in.

He turned to you, his brows knitting together in concern. “Yeah?”

“I… I’ve been trying to move forward, but it’s harder than I thought. I’ve missed you. More than I wanted to admit.”

His expression shifted—surprise, then something deeper, something raw and unguarded. He stepped toward you, his voice quieter now.

“I’ve missed you too, Y/N.”

Before either of you could second-guess the moment, you leaned in and kissed him—a kiss filled with everything you hadn’t been able to say. It was brief, but it left both of you breathless.

As you pulled away, you whispered, “I’m sorry.”

He reached for you, but you stepped back, shaking your head. “I need to go.”

“Y/N, wait—”

But it was too late. You turned and left, the door closing softly behind you.

From his window, Fiyero watched as you climbed into your waiting carriage, your bags already loaded. The bottle of champagne sat unopened on his desk, a bittersweet reminder of what had just slipped through his fingers.

It had been weeks since you left for break, and though distance and time had passed, something between you had shifted. Fiyero had kept his promises—he worked harder than he ever had before, his grades improving, his future slowly taking shape. But he hadn’t stopped thinking about you.

As you returned to Shiz after the break, you found Fiyero waiting near the front steps of the dormitory, leaning against the stone wall with a nervous energy radiating from him.

When you locked eyes, you felt that familiar pull, the connection that had always been there despite everything.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice more earnest than you had ever heard it before.

“For everything. For being selfish. For not seeing what really mattered. I know it won’t be easy, but if you’ll let me, I want to make it right.”

You took a step forward, meeting him halfway, your heart racing. “I’m willing to try,” you said, your voice quieter, but steady.

And for the first time in months, you smiled—really smiled—as you reached out for his hand. A new beginning, maybe, but one that felt different from before. This time, it was real.

tags; @casey1-2007 @endersimp

[aventurineswife]

Hi!!! Can I request childhood best friend with Jing Yuan! This would go about a reader who's interested in singing being forced into a profession they don't like (let's say the alchemy commission) and their parents would be adamant and not listen so out of desperation. Reader would seek help from their best friend Jing Yuan to help them snuck into a cargo that leads out, a galaxy of opportunities. It would be a bittersweet farewell but there's a promise to see each other.

Then years or possible centuries later reader made a name for themselves in the industry, it is a struggle to work with short life species but found their bearings eventually, now they're popular among the cosmos that reader finally decides to return home. I'd imagine reader's singing being like astra Yao since it's very light and elegant

When the Wind Sings Your Name

Summary: As childhood best friends, you and Jing Yuan shared dreams of freedom—yours in singing, his in leadership. But when your parents forced you into the Alchemy Commission, you turned to him for help in escaping the Xianzhou Luofu. He aided you despite the heartache, securing your passage to a galaxy of opportunities. Centuries later, you return—no longer the desperate dreamer who fled, but a legend whose voice has echoed across the cosmos. Yet, despite time and distance, some promises remain unbroken.

Tags: Jing Yuan x Reader, Childhood Friends to Bittersweet Farewell to Reunion, Longing & Unspoken Feelings, Mutual Pining, Found Family Themes, Slow Burn, Soft & Emotional Moments.

Warnings: Bittersweet Departure, Mentions of Familial Pressure, Themes of Time & Mortality, Mild Angst with a Happy Ending.

The celestial lights of the Xianzhou Luofu shimmered above as you traced anxious patterns along the hem of your sleeves, your fingers trembling against the delicate fabric. The scent of alchemical ingredients clung to you like an unwelcome burden, a constant reminder of the life your parents had thrust upon you—a path of formulas and concoctions when all you wanted was to sing.

Jing Yuan stood beside you on the outskirts of the docking bay, his eyes softened with quiet contemplation. His hair, tousled even in youth, glowed under the lantern-lit night. He had always been your anchor, your dearest friend—the one person who truly understood the weight of your dreams.

"This isn't just a fleeting wish, is it?" he murmured, arms crossed as he studied the cargo ship before you. "You're sure you want to leave?"

You swallowed hard, nodding. "I can't stay, Jing Yuan. I’ll wither away here. I want to sing—to be free to create, to let my voice reach beyond this place. But my parents… they won’t listen. This is my only chance."

His expression was unreadable, but you caught the subtle tightening of his jaw. Despite his laid-back nature, Jing Yuan had always been protective. And now, you were asking him to do the unthinkable—to let you go.

Silence stretched between you, filled only by the distant hum of the cargo ship preparing for departure. Then, with a quiet sigh, he finally spoke.

"Then I'll help you."

Your breath caught. "You will?"

He glanced away, as if unwilling to meet your gaze. "If this is what will make you happy, then yes. But," he turned to you, voice dropping to something solemn, "promise me—one day, you’ll come back."

Tears pricked your eyes, but you smiled. "I promise."

With a final glance toward the only home you had ever known, you let Jing Yuan lead you through the shadows, past vigilant Cloud Knights, and toward the cargo hold. He shielded you from sight, his presence a silent reassurance that even if you left, you were never truly alone.

As the doors sealed shut and the engines roared to life, you caught one last glimpse of him standing on the docks—watching, waiting, remembering.

And then, the stars swallowed you whole.

Centuries passed like whispers in the wind. The universe had welcomed you with open arms, though it had not been an easy path. You had struggled, lost yourself in the whirlwind of foreign worlds and fleeting lives. The short-lived species you worked with came and went like falling petals, yet your music endured, an echo across time.

Now, you stood at the edge of the Xianzhou Luofu once more, your name etched in the cosmos as a voice of legend.

The city was the same yet different—unchanged yet unfamiliar. The scent of blooming flora still drifted through the air, and the soft chime of bells still signaled the transition of night to day. But you had changed. No longer the desperate dreamer sneaking onto a cargo ship, you had become someone who had sung across the stars.

Yet, you still searched for one thing.

And you found him.

Jing Yuan stood in the grand courtyard of the Seat of Divine Foresight, eyes half-lidded as he listened to an emissary’s report. His presence was commanding, his very existence an embodiment of wisdom and quiet strength. But as the wind carried a familiar voice—yours, lifted in a soft hum—his head turned.

For a moment, he simply stared, as if his mind refused to believe what his eyes saw. Then, slow as the turning of constellations, a smile graced his lips.

"You kept your promise," he said, voice deep with something indescribable.

Your heart swelled. "I always intended to."

He stepped closer, his gaze searching, lingering on the person you had become. "I heard your songs," he admitted. "Even across the stars, I recognized your voice."

Tears welled in your eyes. "And I carried your words with me all this time."

Silence stretched, but it was warm—not the aching quiet of farewells, but the comforting hush of a long-awaited reunion.

Jing Yuan exhaled a soft chuckle. "Welcome home, [Name]."

And for the first time in centuries, you truly felt it.

Home.

[holylulusworld]

Cookies Time

Summary: It’s that time of the year again. Dean is in the mood for cookies.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Warnings/Tags: fluff, Christmas fluff, a little making out, implied smut, a/b/o, a/b/o dynamics, scenting

Square filled for @fandom-free-bingo "Gingerbread edition": 4 am sandwiches (alternates)

“Y/N? Sweetheart? Omega?” Dean strolled into the kitchen, looking for a snack and his omega. “What are you doing up at…” He looked at his watch, groaning as it was too early to be awake. “4 am?”

“I wanted to prepare the dough for the cookies,” you replied and went back to kneading the dough. “I couldn’t sleep and thought I could bake some cookies. What are you doing up?”

“I was missing you, and…”

“You’re hungry,” you concluded. Dean nodded before walking further into the kitchen. “I knew you’d come around sooner than later.” You said and pointed at a plate with a sandwich. The one you prepared for your alpha.

“You’re too good to me.” He stepped behind you to peck your cheek. “What are we making? Pie?”

“Gingerbread cookies,” you laughed because Dean’s stomach rumbled loudly. His love for pie was unbroken. “I’ll make more later. The dough is waiting in the fridge.”

“More cookies.” Dean hummed while grabbing one half of the sandwich. “I can help. You know, I love to help you in the kitchen.”

At this, you chuckled. Most of the time, Dean distracted you with kisses and cuddles or talked you into getting naughty in the kitchen.

“Dean, you’re distracting me.”

“I'll help,” he nuzzled your neck and inhaled your scent deeply. “Hmm… I like the scent of cinnamon and vanilla on you, sweetheart.”

“You only want to eat the first cookie, Dean. I know your stomach,” you snickered when he wrapped his arms around your waist. Dean sniffed along your neck while you tried to focus on the dough. “Dean, I need to finish the dough.”

“I’ll help,” he said again and kissed your neck before covering your hands with his. Dean guided your movement, kneading the dough. “Slow, sweetheart. We don’t want to make it soft again.”

“You’re a naughty man,” you giggled and pushed your ass into his crotch. “No naughty business until we are done with the cookies.”

“I can’t promise anything,” he purred in your neck and nipped at your earlobe. “What if I get hungry for something else besides pie and cookies?”

“Well, in that case, we won’t have any cookies or pie for Christmas.” He stopped nuzzling you for a moment. Dean considered what was more important to him—cuddling his omega and getting naughty or food.

You chuckled because your alpha wouldn’t stop tugging at your apron. “How about we finish the cookies together, and you can lick the rest of the dough off my body?”

Dean choked a moan. He eagerly nipped at your neck while you tried to finish the dough. “Let’s bake those cookies, sweetheart. I can’t wait to taste them on your skin…”

Tags in reblog.

[patolemus]

Sterek fic recs: High School AU Edition

In honor of my conversation with @darling-winnie about same age!Sterek, as well as my promise to @oldefashioned, here are some high school au recs!

1. Double Cherries (And 'Extra' Hoodies) by undercoverbastard

“No, no - wait - don’t tell me,” Stiles suddenly said, leaning forward and grinning at the boy directly on his right, eyes gleaming with joy and mischief as he spoke. “You want… a salmon burger, swiss, with fruit, and a vanilla shake. Eh?”

Derek scowled, shoving his menu at Stiles as he slumped back. “No,” he said plainly. Stiles pouted.

“Too bad! That’s what I’m penning you in for, Eyebrows,” Stiles said, scribbling on his notepad as he stood and began to walk away. Derek huffed, opening his mouth to give Stiles his actual order, but the only word he got out was ‘I’ before Stiles waved him off without even looking back at Derek or down at the notepad, stride unbroken, as he recited:

“Double cheeseburger, half swiss, half cheddar, no pickles, curly fries, side honey mustard, strawberry milkshake, extra thick, double cherries.”

+.+.+

OR: alive hale family, alive claudia, and high school friends stiles/derek - all wrapped into one, based on a joke from a TV show i watched when i was 7, and then got wildly out of control!

Notes: adorable, I love their banter and the conection they have. Alive!Hale family is always such a treasure, and Claudia and Talia's friendship is great here. It's completed.

2. i wanna dance with somebody (who loves me) by bleepobleep

Derek gets in an accident and loses a few years of his memory; suddenly everything is different— he's not a freshman loser anymore, but a popular senior, captain of the basketball team, a shoo-in for prom king, too, and he should have everything he's ever wanted— except he doesn't seem to be friends with Stiles anymore.

Notes: Derek is not having a good time. Pookie just wants to be with his best friend but it turns out they're not best friends anymore and the world doesn't make sense because of it. A little angsty but it all works out. It's completed.

3. Don't Kiss and Tell by Hedwig221b

Paige has finally got the boyfriend she always wanted. The only thing is, said boyfriend doesn't touch her, doesn't kiss her and spends all his time with Stiles Stilinski. You'd think they were dating, or something...

Notes: When I tell you I go feral for this au every single time I read it! Hedwig has the best unhinged obsessive sterek fics and I'll swear on that, don't even try to change my mind. Poor Paige is definitely being led on here, and both Derek and Stiles are assholes in this one, but they're in love and they're completely devoted to each other, so it's okay (I know it doesn't make sense now, but it will. Trust). It's completed.

4. But Then What... by Stoney

Senior year is almost over, and all Stiles needs to do is keep his head down to survive. A teacher calls in a favor, leaving him stuck tutoring Derek Hale, one of the most popular jocks in school and a member of a group of douchecanoes who have bullied Stiles for years. He's someone Stiles totally hates. Totally. Like, doesn't like him even a little bit. DEFINITELY isn't attracted to him.

Except that is a total lie. Fuck his life, seriously.

Notes: Typical Jock/Nerd enemies to lovers only it's Stiles being incredibly paranoid and angsty all of the time lol. They both had me shaking my head because my babies truly don't know how to communicate, but we got there! Eventually. It's completed.

5. Just The Same by foxlavander

Something is seriously up with the captain of the lacrosse team. There's just no way Derek Hale is human. *** “I was wondering if you're even human. You move so quickly. I mean, it's ridiculously fast. No human should be able to move that fast, y'know? It's unfair for us. I mean, it's obvious you work out, and I don't, so that could be why, but like...I was just wondering if you were human, that's all.” “Stop talking, Stilinski, or I'll—” “Put me on the bench all season?” Stiles asks knowing full well that Derek Hale can't threaten him with shit.

Notes: This one is so good. Stiles is onto you, Derek! But seriously, they're so awesome in this one. And Derek bakes and he wants to open up a bakery and it's adorable. I love them and I love the Hales, everything is great. Look out for the werewolf reveal! It's completed.

6. The In Which Stiles Is Secretly Magic series by apocryphal

All Stiles wants from life is to learn to control his magic, keep his grades up, and not die horribly while saving Beacon Hills from supernatural threats. It's all going pretty well until Derek Hale, werewolf extraordinaire, has to go and ask him on a date. That asshole.

Notes: The lore for magic users in here is honestly so good. Love the world building! The Hales are alive in this one as well, which for me is always a plus. A little bit (maybe more than a little bit) angsty but it ends well. There's a few things going on, but basically Stiles is basically Deaton's apprentice and there are Rules(TM) he has to follow as a magic user. He's pretty badass though! The series is technically not finished, but both parts in the series are completed.

7. cheer up, babe by graveltotempo

He was the basketball captain. And he was a cheerleader. Can I make it any more clear? OR: Derek Hale thought he had his crush on Stiles Stilinski under control. And then Stiles decided to show up to school in a skirt.

Notes: Derek spends all 20k words thirsting over Stiles, as he should. Stiles gets to wear a skirt and be generally awesome. They are disgustingly sweet together.

8. Made Your Mark on Me (A Golden Tattoo) by writteninthewolfstar

Beacon Hills High and Lycan Heights High are well-known enemies. Derek Hale, Lycan Heights' star quarter-back, is well-known for being aggressive and arrogant. Imagine Stiles surprise when he discovers that Derek Hale is actually his soul-mate.

Notes: This one is very sweet. There's insecure Stiles and absolutely lovely Derek. It's abo with Omega!Stiles and Alpha!Derek, and it's actually pretty wholesome. Derek is like public enemy number one of BHHS and a jock, Stiles is a loner, and when they turn out to be soulmates they have to navigate what that means for it. It has 13 out of 14 chapters, last updated in March of 2024.

9. too busy being yours to fall for somebody else by whiry

Stiles, worried that Scott may actually leave him behind because of his newfound popularity, is desperate to cling to something away from the drama of Lydia Martin's amazing parties and the woes of high school lacrosse. What he finds is Derek Hale, a guy who seemingly hates Stiles at first, but slowly, and insistently, becomes friends with him. As their friendship grows, Stiles starts to wonder if they could ever become something more or if pushing what they have will lead him to being alone for good.

Notes: Also very sweet! It's strangers to friends to lovers, and Stiles falls out of love with Lydia without even realizing because he's fallen in love with Derek. The Hales are alive in this one, yay! The way sterek bonds over music is also so good! It's completed.

10. Stupid Over You by Wolfspurr

It's a Friday night, and instead of enjoying any of the numerous things he'd rather be doing, Stiles has been roped into dinner with his dad at the Hale's. On the plus side, Derek Hale will be there. On the minus side, Derek Hale will be there, and Stiles already has a hard enough time not making an ass of himself in front of the hottest guy in school. There's no way this can end well.

Notes: Overall amazing fic! Stiles is his oblivious awkward self that we all know and love, Derek is completely smitten with him. All this wrapped up in a dinner with the Hales and the Stilinskis. That's it, that's the fic. It's completed.

11. Six Minutes by CosmoKid

“What do you want?” Derek practically grows when Stiles is near enough to hear. He can definitely feel the werewolf vibes coming from the guy as well as the fuck off vibes that roll off him in tsunami-sized waves. Stiles has one thing he needs to say to Derek, but he also has eight million questions to ask him about the werewolf thing and he can barely sort out his thoughts as it is, let alone when there’s a ridiculously attractive werewolf who’s basically Adonis staring at him. Derek takes another drag of his cigarette and raises his eyebrows at Stiles expectantly. He shivers and blurts out, “Six minutes.” That makes Derek smirk, but it’s so condescending that even Harris would be impressed. “No offense, Kitten,” Derek starts and Stiles just narrows his eyes at the nickname. Derek keeps his eyes trained on Stiles as if to dare him to challenge the nickname. Stiles bites his tongue and resists it. “But you’re not really my type.”

Notes: This is not your typical high school au, but it's a nice change of pace. It's got werewolves, which we love, and bad boy Derek. Stiles stood no chances lol. It's completed.

12. The covalent bonds series by HaldFizzbin

Awkward Nerd Derek has been crushing on Handsome Jock Stiles since forever—so getting paired with him on a Chemistry project is definitely the best/worst thing that's ever happened to him.

Notes: I went on a little Nerd!Derek and Jock!Stiles fixation the other day so here we have it. Derek is awkward and funny and insecure and we love him. Stiles is Stiles, and he's awesome. The series is not finished, but all the parts of the series are complete.

13. It's Always Been You, Dumbass by stilinskisparkles

“Alright, cool, we should go,” Stiles says breezily, dusting off his hands as he stands. “We should?” “Yeah!” “But… Do you even care about photography?” “Not as much as I should,” Stiles plants both his hands on the table, bracketing Derek in, “You’ll have to correct my miscreant ways.”

Notes: Stiles is helplessly pining, Derek is painfully oblivious and the absolute last to find out. Somehow, they still go on like three dates together. It's pretty great, and it's completed.

14. can you tell me what was ever really special about me all this time? by whirl

There's something strange about Beacon Hills. Stiles can't really put his finger on it, but the way certain classmates look at him at school and the way certain adults look at him in the grocery store has him curious. And it's not the sort of pitying looks that his mom's coworkers used to give him, but these ones are longer, more searching, like they're looking for something. Not to mention the weird noises that sometimes come from the woods when he runs, too human to be animal and too animal to be human. Plus the way the Hales have seemed to sequester themselves to the wild and give Stiles serious Cullen family vibes. But Stiles, like everyone else apparently, ignores it. Until it becomes too great to ignore and he has to investigate for himself and find out what is actually going on in Beacon Hills. +++ Or, the one where Stiles and Derek meet, hate each other, slowly get to know one another, and fall totally head over heels for each other all while avoiding curious classmates, an angry ex-girlfriend, and, oh yeah, imminent death.

Notes: This one is kinda crazy but in a good way! It's 120k words long so be prepared for that, and Stiles finds out about werewolves. Derek, pookie, I'm rooting for you all the way! Also Cora, my beloved. I adore her. Stiles is pretty confused all the time for a while there. It's completed.

15. scary stories and roasted goods by graveltotempo

“I have more, you know?” grumbled Jackson, clearing his throat. “Okay, fine. Here’s another; a man goes is staying at a hotel for the weekend. On his way to his room, he notices a door with no number on it-” “An albino woman with white skin and red eyes committed suicide in that room years ago,” finished Erica, inspecting her nails with a smirk. “We know that too.” “A babysitter goes to put two children to sleep in their room and notices a large creepy clown statue in the corner-” he tried again. “Get out of the house, we don’t have a clown statue,” said Allison, tried to hide a laugh at the flustered expression on Jackson’s face. “Two roommates in a room. Sarah says that she wants to go to a party and Mary wants to stay home-” “Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn the lights on?” said Derek, and Stiles laughed, looking at him with sparkling eyes. OR the cheerleading squad, the lacrosse team and the basketball team go camping.

Notes: Another cheerleader!Stiles and Jock!Derek. I love them your honor. It's all very sweet and Derek pines as he ought to do lol. Don't worry, there's light at the end of the tunnel. It's completed.

That's all I have for this one. I probably have more in my TBR but I guess we'll find out. If I ever get there. My sterek TBR only ever grows and I never seem to be able to finish fics as fast as I find them lol. Hope you guys like these!

[weebslawyer]

Il Capitano x reader (!wife !fem)

ANGSTISH?

AN: Please, if there are any grammar mistakes I'm so sorry. I didn't planned on having a second part for this, but inspiration hit me at 2 am and I said why not. I hope you will enjoy it just as much.

Words count: 1159

The battlefield where your vengeance began would be etched into legend—a desolation carved by your fury, a testament to the wrath of a love unbroken by time or death. The first to feel your rage were the shadows who had thrived on the chaos Capitano sought to quell. They thought themselves untouchable, hidden behind walls of schemes and lies. But you had been by Capitano’s side long enough to learn the art of patience, the art of war. Their walls crumbled before you, their illusions shattered like glass beneath your relentless pursuit.

Word of your rampage spread like wildfire. To the Harbingers, you were no longer an ally but a storm barreling toward them, a reckoning forged from grief and resolve. To the Archons, you were a specter of vengeance, the embodiment of a love that defied even the divine. They whispered your name in hushed tones, fearing the fury that had once stood quietly beside the man they had underestimated.

The mask you had once cradled in your lap became your emblem, the very symbol of the love and resolve you now wielded as a weapon. You wore it into battle, its features a haunting echo of the man who had once borne it. Behind its shadow, your eyes burned with a fire that refused to be extinguished, a fire that spoke of promises unbroken and a love undying.

It was not enough to destroy your enemies. You sought the truth, peeling back layers of lies and deception until the tapestry of Capitano’s fall lay bare before you. The truth was crueler than you imagined—a betrayal orchestrated by those who had once called themselves his comrades. The weight of it threatened to drown you, but you stood resolute. Capitano had carried the burdens of others for centuries; now, it was your turn to carry his.

In the now too silent home, a home thag hosted your love, tears and sorrows with Capitano, you stood in what was your bedroom. You never touched the bed since that day. Never climbed it it as his scent was lingering his side of the bed. You didnt want to destroy that. How could you?

You walked to the closet, and picked your old uniform. The same you uniform you used when you were under his wing as a warrior in Khaenri'ah. A uniform you wear with so much pride. Even after years, it still fitted you so good. And now, his mask was covering your face, like a protective shield.

Each battle was a prayer, each victory a step closer to justice. Yet, as the bodies piled and the blood soaked the earth, a quiet voice within you whispered of the price you were paying. Could Capitano’s love ever forgive the monster you were becoming?

Still, you pressed on. The final confrontation loomed on the horizon, a tempest of inevitability that would either grant you the closure you sought or consume you entirely. You stood on the precipice of destiny, a figure carved from grief and fury, ready to sunder the heavens themselves if it meant keeping your promise.

When at last you reached the one who had orchestrated Capitano’s fall, there were no words. Only the clash of wills, the thunder of steel, and the roar of your grief turned to wrath. The battle raged as though the world itself had paused to bear witness, the air thick with the weight of centuries of pain.

And then, silence.

You stood victorious, the architect of your love’s undoing broken before you. But there was no triumph in your heart, no solace in their defeat. The vengeance that had fueled your every step left behind an emptiness that no victory could fill. The truth of eternity was laid bare before you: love and loss were intertwined, inseparable, and eternal.

With trembling hands, you laid Capitano’s mask upon the earth, a final offering to the man who had been your anchor, your storm, your everything. The battlefield fell silent once more, not with the mockery of your earlier grief, but with a reverence that spoke of endings and new beginnings.

You whispered into the wind, your voice carrying to whatever corner of the afterlife Capitano might now reside. "I have kept my promise, my love. And now, I will wait for you, as you once waited for me. Until we meet again."

You returned home. You didn't dare to change. From a secret box, kept away in safe space, you picked six, small, beautiful stones made of the ashes of your children. You took out the wedding ring, place three of them in the destinated holes on your ring. You placed the ring back on your finger, and made your way to where Capitano was resting.

He was still the same. Still sitting proud and peaceful on the throne that made his grave. You took your mask off, and placed your scythe next to his sword.

"I'm sorry, my love. I'm so sorry. I hope one day you will forgive me. I hope you have the power in you to forgive me one day" you said crawling on his lap, a place you sat often now.

You took his hand, gently pulling out his wedding ring. You took out the beautiful brocade bag, a small bag and pulled out the rest stones. You held his ring in front of your eyes, where your name was beautifully engraved in his handwriting.

Gently, you started to place the stones, pink for your oldest daughter, dark blue for your second child, a boy, and a purple one for your youngest, another girl.

You looked at him, and gently kissed his cheek "I will marry you all over again. I will say yes to you all over again for as many times as i need. My love. My everything. Lord it's so hard here without you. I miss you every second of the day and night. Our home is not home without you. And now, i don't know what to do. Im happy you got your peace. And i hope you look over me, even if you are disappointed. Just.. don't leave my side" you said as you slipped the ring back on his finger.

You rested your head on his shoulder, his hand in yours, your fingers intertwined, and finally, the remains of your children back with you two, their spirits close. You knew deep down, that even if you were the only one standing, he got the chance to hold, love and caress your children again, something you can only dream about now.

As the dawn broke over the horizon, you turned away, leaving the battlefield behind. The world was quiet now. Yet within you burned a new purpose—not to destroy, but to honor. To remember. To keep his memory alive in the stories you would tell, in the lives you would touch. For even in death, Capitano was your strength, your storm, your eternal light.