#they've got me in a vice grip

[ddejavvu]

Hi! You said you wanted shy/scaredy cat reader and Tyler Owens request :) feel free to ignore this!

Maybe Tyler brings her around to something kind of like a meet and greet (I haven’t seen the movie, but kind of like whatever was happening during the “if you feel it, chase it” part of the trailer) or they are out somewhere and he gets ‘mobbed’ by a few people who recognize him and she is just feeling very out of her element? Maybe just Tyler being sweet about it to her?

Idk if this makes sense! Feel free to ignore it!! :)

Taking Candy From a Baby - Tyler Owens x Reader

come participate in tyler owens night !

You're typically one to hang back and relax in the passenger's seat of Tyler's truck when it's time for him to start rousing rounds of chanting about feeling and chasing and fearing and riding. You're simply more comfortable with a seatbelt on and a window between you and Tyler's adoring fans, because tornado wranglers are not typically the types of people you feel safe around. Tyler- well, Tyler had roped you in with his gentle hands and soft brown eyes before breaking the news that he shoots fireworks into tornados for a living. All that to say, you typically feel out of your element when Tyler engages with his fans.

He knows this, and typically you're undisturbed while he has Boone pump his gas so that he and the rest of the crew can mingle with fans, sign autographs, and sell t-shirts. This time, though, when he opens the driver's side door he doesn't climb in, and instead he offers you a hand.

"Come in with me, darlin'?"

"Hm?" You look up from your phone, brows knitting together in confusion as you take his outstretched hand. He squeezes it with a saccharine grin instead of pulling, which you're grateful for before you know what you're getting into.

"Come get snacks and drinks with me in the station?" He nods to the small building to the left of the pumps, and the brightly-colored wrappers of candies and chips are appealing at a glance, "Lily says they've got crazy Lay's flavors, and they've got the energy drinks I like. We can stock up on goodies before we head out, how's that sound?"

"0kay," You nod, before you have a chance to say no. There's something sickly and rancid twisting in your belly, tendrils of anxiety latching into the walls of your stomach and sticking tight, but Tyler's hand holds steady to yours and you're not going to let a small crowd of people hold you back from novelty potato chips.

Stepping down out of the truck and jumping from the runner to the dingy concrete is the next step in an ongoing mission to break out of your shell. Tyler is so- well, he's the complete opposite of you, and he's always been careful to adapt to your more introverted ways. Now, though, you're dreadfully self-conscious about ensuring that you're adapting to him, as well, and if that means you have to nod and smile at his adoring fans to get him to a refrigerated case of energy drinks, so be it.

You're wearing a pair of Tyler's broken-in boots, old ones that happened to fit you better than the fresh pair he'd bought for you. He's doing the work of breaking in the new ones, and you admire his willingness to stomp around in boots with a 1-inch heel on the sole so that you can be saved from blisters. Boots are just uncomfortable to wear if they're not broken in first, and you don't romp around enough yourself to soften the leather.

Both pairs of your boots click against the concrete and heads turn, but only a few are bold enough to approach. You're not sure if your hand tightens around Tyler's or vice versa, but when one opens their mouth you're paling Tyler's tan hands with your grip.

"Tyler, is this the missus?" One woman asks, clinging to the hand of her own beau, "You're gorgeous, honey."

Tyler laughs for you, bumping his shoulder into yours as you rush to thank the woman, "Mhm. This's my girl. You two drivin' out with us?"

"The whole family is." The man nods, clearly ecstatic to be speaking to Tyler, "We've got the three kiddos in the car. And the dog. This is one leg of our family road trip for the year! But we're keepin' out of the storm's way, of course. We're gonna end up in Kentucky and visit some of my family."

"Well enjoy Kentucky," Tyler nods, his grin on full blast as he nods politely to the couple, "And you tell those kids'uh yours Tyler Owens says hello."

"We will!" The woman gushes, and you're grateful when Tyler begins walking again, breaking off from the couple. He manages to get cornered again before you're fully inside the gas station doors, but he lets your hand go to sign an autograph for the fan.

"Head on inside, honey," He nods at the station, "Pick out some crazy chips for me, m'kay?"

You're relieved for the respite that you're granted upon stepping into the air-conditioned gas station, and you follow Tyler's orders with your head down so as not to attract attention. You're barely able to reach the junk food aisle before a little boy rams straight into your legs, and you dart forwards to grab his arm before he can topple over.

"Oh! Are you okay?" You ask, peering carefully at his chubby face, dark curls wound close to his scalp. He nods, and you let go of his arm, glancing upwards to see his mother standing over him with a reproachful gaze.

"I'm sorry, honey," She gushes, and her voice must be straight honey for the way it oozes sweetness, "I told him not to run but, well, you know how that goes. Hey, aren't you the girl who was sittin' in Tyler's truck?"

Your heart starts pounding at the thought of another fan interaction, but you're spared from answering when you feel something poking against your leg. The little boy, no older than two, you're sure, is offering you a candy bar, big brown eyes hopeful as he clutches the silver wrapper.

"You sayin' sorry for nearly tripping her, Ty?" The woman laughs, then looks back up at you, "We- uh, well, his daddy's a big fan of Tyler. Tyler actually- he saved my husband a few years ago from a big storm, not that he even knew it. My husband was driving to work one day and he saw Tyler's truck pass him on the road. He'd heard of his hobby, y'know, chasin' storms. He thought if a tornado wrangler was heading the same way he was, he should probably go somewhere else. He got off the road and missed an EF-3 headed his way. So when he was born," She nods down at the baby still offering you a wrapped sweet, his other hand clutching your jeans, "We thought it'd be nice to name him after your man."

The candy wrapper is smooth and cool against your hands as you take it from Baby Tyler, and the boy gives you a grin consisting of six teeth in total when you stick the candy in your basket.

"Thank you," You croon down at the baby, "I'm- I'm glad your husband is safe. I'm glad he was smart enough not to follow Tyler."

"Who says followin' me's dumb, darlin'?" A large hand lands on your shoulder, and you startle before you register that it's Tyler.

"I do," The woman laughs, smile crinkling her eyes, "If you're drivin' into a tornado, that is."

"Dumb's more exciting," Tyler shrugs, "Who's this little one?"

"Tyler," You and the woman answer in unison, and your Tyler grins.

"Nice name, bud," He offers a balled-up fist to the baby who slaps his palm against it in an attempted high-five, "You're smart, hangin' around in the candy aisle."

Baby Ty babbles and toddles away, mom hurriedly following in his shaky footsteps, "Sorry, he's on the move. It was nice meeting you!"

Your voice is strong when you call back, "It was nice meeting you, too!" And Tyler looks impressed by that as he stares at you and your lone candy bar.

"Three Musketeers?" He asks, and you nod.

"Baby Tyler gave it to me."

"That's sweet." He hums, "You weren't nervous talkin' to 'em?"

"They were nice," You shake your head, leading him for once as you take his hand and steer towards the energy drinks, "And he was a really cute kid.”

“Mm, yeah? Y’know, we could make some really cute kids. ‘Specially if I’ve got a few of these,” Tyler holds up the energy drinks he’s selected from the fridge, “Forget wranglin’ tornadoes, darlin’, tonight I’m gonna be wranglin’ you.”

[jayke0]

Just The Tip

Pairing: Marc Spector x fem reader

Summary: Marc admits his love for you, and you both end up a little more desperate for each other than expected, so much so that he can't even get inside you properly.

Rating: 18+, smut

Warnings/Content: a bit of angst at the start, fluff, romantic, desperate Marc, just the tip, oral (f receiving), male masturbation, unprotected sex, totally unrealistic and self-indulgent, creampie, fingering, multiple orgasms, lmk if there's anything else I should add :).

Word count: 1,605

Credit: @automnepoet (who also requested this btw) for proofreading ily.

…………………………………………….......................

"Marc…" is what you can barely mutter as your boyfriend slides his tongue over yours and licks into the heat of your mouth ferociously.

"Marc–"

Your second attempt at getting his attention is futile.

"Marc!"

Finally, he releases the suction he has on your lips, looking at you with wide blown out pupils that make you think Steven might've fronted in the short time he's been sucking your face off.

"What's gotten into you, sweetheart?" Your tone is soft as you run your hands through his curls and you feel him press into your hold, his eyes fluttering shut briefly to calm himself.

They had been away for a few days on a mission, nothing too big, which is why you're so confused now. They've been on much longer trips away, much more dangerous trips, but they'd never come home like this. Maybe he hadn't been totally honest with you, maybe something bad had truly happened and now he's trying to make out with you like it's his final chance… the thought makes your stomach coil with anxiety.

A sharp inhale brings you back into the room, and you notice he's staring at you again, though his gaze is more lidded; more "Marc" like.

"Nothing, I just…"

The anxiety builds stronger in your gut, stretching up to your throat to clench it in a vice grip.

"I don't want you to freak out, but-"

Uh oh.

"I almost got killed," he brings a finger up to stop you from interrupting him. "and it really put everything into perspective for me… I realised how much I love you, and how fucking much I'd miss you, even in death."

A cocktail of relief, sadness and anxiety all bubble inside you, making your ears hot and your expression evident on your face.

"Baby…" You can't help it, but tears start forming in the corners of your eyes despite the attempts to blink them away. "I love you too, so much–" You're leaping forward before he can even get another word out, arms wrapping tightly around his neck as if he might melt away from right underneath you. "Please be more careful… I need you, all of you." The mumbles are quiet in his ear, and you're both left with just your slow breathing for a few moments, Marc's hands rubbing your back comfortingly.

You pull back and admire his big, soft eyes, ones that you could even say you enjoy a bit more than Steven's, purely because it's a rare occurrence. Raking your fingers through his curls, you lean forward into his lips again and give him an affectionate peck, one that soon turns into you both panting against each other's mouths once more.

"Mmm, missed you so fucking much, baby." Marc whines, like actually whines, and it's a noise that has arousal spreading in your tummy and between your legs.

"Show me how much. Please, darling."

The man is jumping on you before you can go back to your heated kiss, his necklace dangling above you as he situates between your legs and grinds himself against your core.

"Lemme taste that cunt, sweetheart, please?" Your boyfriend asks as he's already kissing down your body until his lips reach your lower tummy. You nod, eager to feel his tongue again, and lift your hips so he can pull your pyjamas off. "Want you on your front though, can you do that for me?"

"Of course, Marc, whatever you want. Just want you inside me."

A growl fills your ears and spreads to your wet cunt as he grabs your hips and flips you onto your front, the gesture making you grab the cushions for a second to steady yourself. Looking over your shoulder, you can just about see Marc leaning down to lick a long strip up your lips, making you instead rest your head on the armrest with a soft sigh.

His tongue is delving between your folds in seconds and tasting your arousal, lapping up every inch of that sweet stickiness he'd missed so damn much. A pleased hum makes your desperate cunt throb before his nose bumps your lips and his tongue slides over your clit perfectly. The action makes you jolt and whimper, which only makes him do it again, purposefully teasing your poor clit till you're writhing on the couch and begging for a release while his nose teases your aching hole. You're clenching around nothing in minutes, pressing back on his tongue and nose as white hot pleasure surges through your body and makes your muscles tense and relax all in one go.

You whimper softly and look back at him again. "Please baby, let me feel your cock." You give your best pout, craving that initial stretch and feeling of being filled that only he can satisfy.

When Marc pulls away, the shininess of his chin makes you blush; were you really that wet? Or was it his saliva? you don't have time to ponder as you feel your boyfriend leaning over you, peppering kissing over your neck and whatever parts of your back he can get too.

"Such a pretty girl, my pretty baby. Been waiting to feel your cunt again, it's made me fucking crazy."

Maybe being away had made him a poet too.

You feel his tip suddenly pressing against your hole and you brace yourself for the delicious stretch… but it never comes, instead you just feel the blunt tip rutting against your walls. For a moment you think your boyfriend has malfunctioned somehow, but when you look back at him you see his head tilted back in pleasure, brows knitted together tightly while his jaw hangs slack.

"Marc? Are you o—"

"Just stay still baby, stay just like that babygirl." His words are breathless.

One hand rests on your ass, while the other wraps around your thigh and pulls you back on him just barely.

"Feels good like this." Your hole feels like a massage for his swollen tip, and he finds himself getting swept up in the feeling of it, the tightness of just the entrance and the lewd 'pop' sound it makes when he pulls out.

You expect this from Steven, maybe even Jake on a submissive day, but never Marc. He's always so good at holding himself together and fucking you for your pleasure, but he almost seems feral right now, just fucking what he can.

"Missed you so much baby." He repeats with a mumble and moan.

As he wraps his hand around the base of his cock, you realize he must be close, so you start clenching around him, making soft noises for him. "Fill me up Marc, wanna feel you cum in me again baby."

A low groan rumbles in his chest as you barely feel hot ropes painting your walls before he's pulling out and painting your hole instead, coming onto it and your thighs rather than inside. You kinda wish he'd filmed it or something, because ultimately the idea of him jacking off on your hole had made you much more excited than you'd thought, finding yourself pushing back on him and his softening cock.

He pants softly and rubs your ass, giving it a soft pinch and slap that makes you giggle.

"What was that all about then, hmm?" You tease with a grin.

"Don't you dare tell the other two."

"Oh, I'm going to."

His fingers splitting you open makes you gasp and grit your teeth, rolling your hips back on them.

"We'll see about that, baby."

You feel his free arm snake around your body and pull you up flush against his chest, your own chest resting neatly on top of his thick arm as he holds you close to him and draws shivers over your body with his breath.

"Y–you really don't have to do this Marc—" You stammer, but your body disobeys your words and continues to grind on his thick digits, showing him all he needs to continue pleasuring you.

"It's ok, baby. You know I love doing this, love pleasing you, alright?" His breath ghosts your ear and his tongue pokes out to lick the shell, teeth nipping it softly. "Just lemme pleasure this cunt, my cunt."

Oh lord, you haven't heard him say that in a while, but it makes you moan mortifyingly loud, your voice cracking a little as your breath is shortened by the firm grasp he has on you. Zealously, your hands struggle to grapple his arms when his fingers work faster inside you, dragging over the spot that has your orgasm rushing towards you all too fast, building from your toes all the way up to your flushed ears.

"You love my fingers, tell me you love them, babygirl."

"I do! I l–ove them baby-." Is all you can stammer.

Instinctively, your head tilts to the side to allow Marc access to your neck, and he does just that. He marks you like he hasn't seen you in months, drawing gasps and soft sobs from your chest as he breaks the soft skin and heat blossoms underneath, all rushing too your cunt until finally—

"Fuuuuckk!"

Your body rolls against his while you ride out your second orgasm, your thighs shaking and struggling to keep you up as your whole body shudders, whimpers and whines being all that's left of the intense pleasure.

You come down slowly, leaning back against Marc with all your weight so he can hold you close and pepper your neck with kisses.

"Good girl. I love you sweetheart."

"Mmmm…" You simply mumble at first, brain still foggy. "I love you too."

...........................................................................

Tagging people 🖤: @boredzillenial @cowboymarcs @chichimisaki @faretheeoscar @fanofstuffidk @minigirl87 @marisferasiop @red-hydra @summonthesoups @steven-grants-world @queerponcho @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ominoose

[gayvorestories]

A man - or at least what once was one - lays chained to the padded floor of his cell, arms spread wide, eyes blindfolded.

Footsteps come from down the hall and he shifts, knowing what is coming. He can't see, but he hears the door to his cell swing open, the panicked cries of another man, and the sound of a guard struggling to control him.

For years they've had him down here, cleaning up every royal mistake, brutal killer, and foreign delegation that failed to negotiate peace. At first it horrified him, his body used against his will, treated like a living meat grinder. But then the feeling of being so unnaturally full, so painfully stuffed he could hardly stand it became familiar, and after he found pleasure in the pain he knew that even if he escaped, he could never go back.

The struggle in front of him intensified. Voices raised, shoving, a different voice asking for mercy as the man felt warm, unwilling hands pressed against his face. He opened wide and began swallowing when he felt the fingers in his mouth. As he gulped, he felt metal slide through his lips.

"You're going down with me," one of the voices shouted at the other. A second hand was forced into his mouth and again he gulped, gripping both like steel with his powerful throat.

More struggling shook him as he continued to swallow, the cold taste of metal and some kind of fabric both passing down his throat at once. He let out a low moan, his throat far fuller than usual. His belly was going to be so full.

As he gulped, the heads slid down his throat as both men continued to struggle, against each other and against him. As the second shoulder made its way into his mouth, he slowed. This was far, far larger than anything he had ever swallowed all at once before, and swallowing became harder. He shook his body, trying to position just right. A few hard swallows later, and the widest part of both of them had slipped in, slowing inching towards his stomach.

Both men still flailed as he continued to drag them in. Footsteps down the hall got his attention - barely - as he continued to scarf down his meal. The door flew open as he gave another gulp, feeling the chests of his dinner passing down his jaws.

"Oh fuck, oh FUCK!" a voice yelled out.

He felt a sudden tug as the metallic man was yanked hard from the outside. His throat gripped the fresh meat like a vice and he gave another swallow, pulling his meal further into his belly. No one was going to take away his dinner.

Two voices shouted in front of him as he gave a few more gulps. The pulling grew harder, but the grip of his esophagus was tighter than any chain the crown had to offer.

"I just need a better grip!" he heard one of the voices yell. As the other voice shouted in protest he felt fingers in his mouth again and gave another gulp. The waist of both men slid into his mouth, along with another hand.

"Pull me! PULL ME!" he heard the voice shout again. Instinctively, he gave a few gulps, pulling the hand in past the wrist and clamping down tightly. The new voice screamed in panic as he tried to pull back, but to no avail.

The man kept swallowing, feeling the thighs of his first course slide down his gullet and the forearm of his dessert slide deeper in. Footsteps ran down the hall away from his cell as he swallowed again, the knees of the first two men sliding into his throat.

He felt a hand pushing against his face in a desperate bid for survival. The man was trying to push against his face to get him to release, but in return he only swallowed harder and faster. Calves and ankles passed his lips as he swallowed, the original meal rapidly dumping into his stomach, still alive and angrily fighting one another. As the feet of his original meal disappeared down his throat, his new meal continued his struggle, begging for help as his head entered the hungry man's jaws.

He could feel the struggling in his stomach as the voice of the man he was still gulping down became muffled by his stomach. With a few powerful swallows, he felt the man's shoulders slide into his throat, followed by the metallic surface of his torso. His recently-loosened throat was eager and ready for the meal, dragging him down quickly past his waist.

Several sets of footsteps echoed down the hall and the door flung open once more, with several men entering the room together. Several of them shouted and he felt his meal being tugged hard. His throat was far stronger and only continued to pull the man in, his knees sliding down his throat at a rapid pace. With a few powerful gulps, the man pulled his meal's ankles into his mouth as a commanding voice from across the room shouted.

"Stop! Get back! It's too late, we can do nothing here."

As the pulling stopped, he gave a few more gulps and the man's feet disappeared down his throat. The third man settled into his stomach, the sensation of three men in his stomach bringing him very close to the edge. As they struggled, he let out a soft moan, the sensation impossible to ignore. His cock twitched and dripped at the feeling, and as he let out a long, low belch he felt himself start to shoot on the floor. His belch shifted into a gutteral moan as he heard the guards in the room shift uneasily.

"This is why we bring the guilty in with three guards," the voice said in an exhausted tone, "and why you are not supposed to try to pull anyone out if the get stuck. We can't help them now, everyone leave."

Somber footsteps echoed down the wall as his stomach began to churn. The three men inside of his stomach let out muffled cries for help to an empty room as the walls around them began to excrete large quantities of acid, dousing their skin as the painfully strong stomach walls squeezed them like a vice.

The man rested on his stomach, the shuffling and churning inside making him tired and satisfied.

As hours passed, the struggling stopped, and the solid feel of their bodies had softened. He could hear the sound of metal knocking together - the sound of his belly emptying the metal shells inside of him. His stomach let out wet, low groans as it dumped the thick nutrient paste into his intestines, the distribution of weight changing rapidly in his body. He leaned his head on his full, sloshy belly and started to fall asleep.

He woke the next morning to awful indigestion. His stomach was empty, the men fully absorbed into his body, but the metal of their armor remained. He heard footsteps down the hall as he heaved, each piece of armor making its way up one at a time and landing on the floor with a dull clatter. Helmets, braces, parts of the chestplate, one at a time he heaved up the slimy metal shells of his jailers.

He heard the cell door open just as the final and most difficult piece - a metal helmet - finally game popping out of his throat and clanging on the ground, rolling in the direction of the door.

"Oh fuck..." he heard a voice whisper.

"Yeah, less than a day," another replied.

"Do you think there's anything left?"

"No," the other voice said, the sound of the helmet being kicked echoing on the walls, "mark it down."

He heard the sound of someone scratching into the stone, a ritual of the guards every time one of their own was lost to him.

He sighed deeply before letting out a low belch. The only thing he wanted more than the feeling of live meat in his belly was to know how many lines were on that wall.

[atoltia]

Just lean on me

March is grumpily affectionate when sick. Somehow it became the farmer's problem.

Warnings: swearing, panic attack

-0-

Things were going so well.

The mountain of orders were done, all of the ore he outsourced was paid for, and all of the paperwork was filed in record time. It was all perfect, first of all, since that was the base standard that he required.

If it wasn't perfect, it was garbage.

He would have continued his other projects, ones that he started weeks ago, that would be sold in the shop or handed over to Balor to sell. He's had an idea for a particular design of shield for a while now, and only started on it some time ago after seeing some of the illustrations from a book the Eiland lent him. With some modifications, of course.

It would have been nice. It would have been magnificent. It could have been the first of his next armor line and possibly win him another award. It would have been glorious.

If only he didn't get fucking sick.

-0-

Nine-thirty-two in the morning and he was still in bed.

His body was sore, bruised in places he didn't know had the capability to be bruised, and was set aflame as if he was still standing beside the very forge that was essential to his livelihood.

His throat was parched, he couldn't move, and there was no one else in the shop since Olric travelled two towns over since they've gotten a lead that someone was offering up perfect silver ore for trade. March didn't know when Olric would be back.

If this was the way the universe decided he would die, he would be extremely annoyed.

But nothing would happen if he just laid around in bed. If he was gonna die, might as well be doing something productive.

With considerable effort, he swung his legs towards the side of the bed before his head exploded into a mass of lights and stars, his hands flailing until it found purchase on his bedframe to keep him from completely falling.

His arms burned, his breathing was akin to inhaling broken glass, his entire body was shaking like a leaf, and his brain was pounding like his hammer to the anvil.

His heart lurched as panic gripped him like a vice, eyes darting for some semblance of stability and the entirety of his room spun and blurred. He couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe, couldn't fucking breathe-

"Hey now." Cool, blissfully cool hands gripped his arm, hauling him from his position on the floor back onto his bed. With every labored breath he inhaled a bit of sweetness, a light, floral scent alongside the hints of sweat and sun. March blinked his eyes as he tried to focus on the person handling him at that moment.

"I've got you," her gentle voice whispered as she lifted him up, her smaller, calloused hands rubbing his back as she encouraged him to calm down.

"I've got you, March. Look at me?" She watched him blink at her, those dark, proud eyes now dulled and struggling to even focus on her.

It hurt her heart.

With a gentle nudge, she cupped his chin and had him focus on her, her other hand rubbing light circles on his back in an attempt to calm him down. "Breathe with me, March, okay?"

"Sandra?"

"Yeah, it's me. Focus on me, okay? Breathe-" she watched him closely as she inhaled, long and deep, encouraging him as he struggled to do the same.

"Can't-"

"You can," she coaxed, making sure to keep her voice modulated. "Again, with me?" And she inhaled through her nose, held, slowly exhaled through her mouth. Repeated until he was following her to the best of his capabilities. It took them several tries, many agonizing minutes, but finally March was able to breathe a bit more easily.

It was quiet for a while with only the sounds of their breathing in the room. Sandra could feel the exhaustion emanating from him in waves as she let him lean against her shoulder, frowning when a shudder or two rippled along his back.

It scared her, she admitted. To hear the crash when she entered the shop, see him on the floor, eyes wide and darting around looking for anything familiar. Trembling, in the time that she's spent here in Mistria, Sandra never imagined that she'd ever see him trembling. Never even thought of it as possible.

But here she was, holding him during this fine, spring morning as he was burning up like a flame.

It rattled her when she touched him, the way his skin scorched her hand when she got him up. She imagined it only got this hot when he was right next to the forge. This wasn't normal.

"W-" he coughed into her shoulder, making her continue her ministrations as she folded him into herself. "-water?"

"Okay." Fuck. She didn't want to leave him in this state. But she had to. "I'm gonna settle you back down, okay? I'm gonna get you some water."

But he held on, his grip on her only tightening when she tried to move him back. "March, please? I'm going to get you some water." And a doctor.

He grunted, loosening his grip as she once again pushed him back to bed.

"Make sure you breathe as I showed you when it gets difficult, okay?" She took the grunt as an affirmative before giving him another long glance and headed out his bedroom.

It wasn't difficult to navigate the shop as she's been here several times before. She gathered drinking water quickly, before grabbing some towels and another bowl of water. Sandra knew she had to rush, but she needed to cool him off first before she headed out to get the doctor.

March laid still besides for the steady rise and fall of his chest. He could barely make out the shapes inside the room, blinking hard to try to get them to focus, and yet that floral scent was present in his nose.

When the door opened, he tried his best to tilt his head, frowning as he watched Sandra whisk in with a glass of water and a bowl.

She didn't speak as she busied herself beside him. The woman was quiet with her steps. If he hadn't seen her come in, he might've been unaware that she was there in the first place.

"March." He blinked, startled when her face moved into his view. She wore her black hair loose today, judging from the way it tumbled down her shoulders.

He felt her hand on his back again, gently lifting him up, up, until he was in a sitting position.

"Can you drink this by yourself?"

He watched the glass in her hands, grumbled before weakly trying to get at it. She breathed out when he fumbled, keeping firm on her hold on the glass to keep it from spilling. "Come here."

Slowly, she tipped the glass to his lips without so much as a protest. She tried not to think about how his lack of reaction displeased her so much.

"More."

"Alright."

March ended up finishing the entire glass, which impressed her, before trying to settle back into bed. She kept her grip on him before he managed to.

"I need to cool you off, March," she said as she sat on the side of the bed. "I'm going to take off your shirt, okay?"

If anything was to go by, the scoff that he let out just gave her the reassurance that he'll be okay.

Still, he grumbled at her, still a bit delirious from the fever. "If you want to get me naked so much, you should have just said so."

The laugh was almost music to his ears, a low tinkling of chimes being blown by the breeze. He blinked enough to see the amusement twinkle in her eye as she gingerly slid his drenched shirt off of his body.

"Let's put a pin on that for next time, yeah?"

More grumbling, more snarling, even though the coolness of the damp cloth over his skin was complete and utter bliss.

He watched her as she ran the towel over his skin, those cold, winter blue eyes locked in focus. And yet the rest of her face was warm, inviting even. There was a smile on her lips, a gentleness to her touch as she cleaned him, ridding him of the sweat that covered him from the heat.

He realized he wasn't even completely listening to her.

She knew he wasn't listening to her. She's familiarized herself with many of his expressions that she was aware of the moment he lost his concentration. And yet she still spoke to him just to keep the quiet at bay.

"-and I'm going to get Valen in a bit."

"No."

"Yes."

"Absolutely not."

"I absolutely will."

"I'll keep you from getting her."

"I'd like to see you try."

March snorted as he pushed his weight up - with considerable effort - before taking her arms and using the rest of his weight to topple her onto the bed.

It wasn't as if it was a hard push. But Sandra didn't want to potentially hurt him by pushing him back.

Sandra sighed from her position under him, looking up as his shaking arms caged her from both sides. She tapped his chest.

"March," she chided. "As much as I would love to have an attractive, shirtless man on top of me on such a fine summer day, I'd much rather we get you checked by a doctor first, yeah?"

"No."

"March."

He bit back a cough, masked it as a snarl, as he let himself collapse on her, biting back a curse as it winded him out more than he anticipated.

Sandra rolled her eyes, patted his back. "Off."

"No."

"Come on, March."

He responded by pressing closer to the warmth of her chest, just right over where her heart was. "Your heartbeat's picking up."

She chuckled, giving up for the moment. "I think that's understandable, given the circumstance."

"You think I'm attractive?"

Sandra blew air out from her nose, suppressing a laugh, as she rubbed his back. "I think you're cute, at least."

He grumbled. "You said I was attractive."

"Did I now?"

"You did."

"I can't seem to remember."

"Sandra."

"March?"

He gave up, grumbling even further into the cloth of her shirt.

They stayed quiet for a while, listening to the hustle and bustle outside his window, the hand that was rubbing the man's back now carding through his hair. It needed a clean, though she knew that March was often at the bathhouse so this was most likely due to the sweat that covered him through the night. She remembered them having a bath inside the shop's bathroom, and while it wasn't Juniper's restorative water, it will have to do.

Sandra patted his back, nudged him along. "I need to get Valen now, March."

March snarled, burying his face deeper into her chest. "Fuck. Off."

She rolled her eyes. "I can't actually fuck off when you're holding me tight like this, come on now March."

It took her a bit more effort, with her trying to pry off his still rather strong arms around her waist, to convincing him to go back to bed while she makes a run to town.

-0-

He was asleep when she came back with Valen. The sheets were in disarray, his shirt was tossed to the ground, and his blanket barely covered his chest.

In two strides she was at his bedside, one hand immediately reaching to touch his forehead. Sandra pursed her lips as she looked to Valen and shook her head as he stirred.

It intrigued her, Valen admitted, to see the way Sandra soothed the man as he woke up disgruntled. It intrigued the doctor more when the redhead just mumbled as she got him up before pressing his head to her shoulder.

"He's grumpy."

"I can see that." Valen chuckled as she moved in, pulling in the chair that was askew from the other side of the room. "March," she said in a soft yet firm tone. "I need to check you, okay?"

A grunt, followed by him pressing his eyes into Sandra's clavicle. "No."

"March," Sandra clicked his tongue, nudged him off. "The sooner we can get this done, the sooner you'll get back to the forge."

"The forge is just outside my bedroom, dumbass."

"Can't even lift a hammer now, can you March?"

They glared at each other for a moment. Valen was thoroughly amused.

Eventually they managed to wrangle him enough for Valen to check him over, with the whole ordeal exhausting their sickly blacksmith to the point of sleep.

"Seems to be a standard fever," Valen started as she wrote into her chart. "But you said he was having difficulty breathing earlier?"

"Yes."

"Hm, I'd hate to say pneumonia at this stage. It could also be he had a panic attack when he fell. We'd have a better chance at knowing conclusively if we get him to the clinic."

Sandra's brows furrowed, but the rest of her expression stayed cold. "He wouldn't be pleased with that."

"Most definitely not."

Sandra looked to Valen, and the doctor could see the worry seep from those dark blue eyes. "I admit I'd much rather he stayed here and be comfortable. It's selfish-" she cut in before Valen could say a word. "I know but I don't want him to panic like that again."

Valen hummed, looking at her and then at March who was still asleep. "Alright. But he'd be needing round the clock care and I couldn't leave the clinic for long."

"I understand." Sandra already made the decision to stay the night, anyway. "I need to get some things in order first, though."

"Alright, I can stay for a while."

And with that, Sandra hurried back to the farm, got herself cleaned up and pack a few extra sets of clothes, some food, her ledger, and a sketchpad.

It took a bit more finagling but she managed to wrangle her animals into Hayden's care for the time being, even with Henrietta's displeased clucks. Hayden also offered to care for her crops while she took care of the town blacksmith, which she graciously accepted.

It was just after lunch when she managed to get back. A little later than she wanted, but she was here.

Valen left a few minutes after the farmer came back, making sure to brief her on the medicine that he should be taking and what times, the things that he should be able to eat.

March was still asleep, and it gave her enough time to tidy up the place. She knew that he and his brother had a system, and knew full well he can get bitchy if his tools were out of place. So she did her best to clean all the while placing things back to where she found them.

He didn't know what time he woke up.

There was barely any light outside his window, except for the slight glow of the streetlamps. It was evening, then. He was out for a while.

March looked around the room, he could focus and see a bit easier now. His body still ached, still hot even to his touch. His throat still raw from all the coughing he did in his sleep.

He wondered if he was alone. There was no sound around him, none that he could hear, anyway. But her coat was at the foot of his bed. A rather hefty bag sat on one of his chairs. She was staying, he supposed.

"March."

He looked up, saw her standing by his door holding a steaming bowl of... something. But it smelled delicious.

There was relief in her face when she saw him, those lidded eyes twinkling with amusement as she watched him try to sit up to no avail.

"Come here." She helped him up, propped him to a more stable position with another pillow that she got from another room. It was still early in the evening, and she was just about to wake him for supper, so to see him awake and stubbornly trying to get up by himself was a welcome surprise. "Can you eat by yourself?"

He answered with another grunt, something that he liked to do while sick, it seemed. Making sure she set the bowl on another pillow, she turned to his drawers. "You're gonna have to take a bath after this, can do you that by yourself?"

March stared at her, a spoon on his mouth, before shrugging.

"Alright, then."

So he ate as she busied herself around his room again, taking out a clean set of clothes from his dresser. He didn't know why the sight of her being so comfortable around his space appealed to him, but he wasn't gonna mention it now. Not to her.

They staggered to the bathroom, with her tightly holding on to him as he had his arms slung over her shoulders. It pissed him off that he still couldn't walk well, it pissed him off that he had to depend on her for something as basic and mundane as eating and taking a bath. It pissed it off him that he even had to depend on her at all.

But here she was, spending her time taking care of him instead of tending to her own business, which he knew was a magnitude more than the average citizen. And she was doing it without complaint, doing it without reservation, doing it without payment.

It baffled him.

Even when she helped him into the tub already filled with warm water, she didn't fuss. Especially when he was already embarrassed enough that he had to strip into the nude while she was with him in the bathroom. She had the decency to look away, and he appreciated that, but it was still pretty awkward to do in the presence of someone he just met a little over five months ago.

"I'm gonna keep the door open, so just call me if you need anything, okay?" She offered a smile as she stood by the door. "Don't worry. I've locked the front door. Don't drown or I'll be mad at you."

So she left him to his devices in the tub. He didn't know what she did, but the water smelled lightly floral, lightly medicinal, and somehow he could feel the aches just... dissipate.

March groaned, leaning back to submerge his body more into the water, just letting the bliss of it seep into his body, deep into his bones. He closed his eyes, hummed and just said: "fuck."

What the fuck did he get himself into? How the hell did he get so far into illness that he had to rely on her of all people? And still the feeling of her warmth in his arms flitted through his mind, the scent of her unrelentingly devouring everything inside of him.

It didn't make sense, she didn't make sense.

Why was she even doing this?

He didn't know what to do, didn't know what the fuck to do.

"March?"

He blinked, frowned at her. "I'm bathing."

"You're sitting in the bath. There's a difference."

He hissed when she crossed the threshold, striding towards the counter with bottles and tubes, watched her hand him one.

"Wash."

The glare that he gave her was weak, he knew that, but he took the tube, lathered himself clean. He didn't bother to think about the way she took another bottle and started cleaning his hair.

Her fingers were long, gentle as she scrubbed his hair, her short nails scratching wonderfully at his scalp.

He thought he was gonna faint.

"You okay?"

"M'fine."

"Rinse."

He rolled his eyes but complied, taking his time mostly to make sure she leaves him the hell alone in the bath.

It took longer than he wanted, but he was done. He was clean and clothed and wouldn't have to face the mortification of her possibly seeing him naked again. That alone was enough of a reward.

He managed to walk out the bathroom, into the main shop. It only took him a few steps to feel his legs buckle as the wind got knocked out of him again.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Strong, yet different hands got him up. Familiar still, but different from the ones that was handling him since morning. "Chill out, bud. I've got you."

"Ry?"

"Yep."

The face of his friend came into view, and while there was glee there, a surge of disappointment ebbed through him, pissing him off all the more. "Did she leave already?"

Ryis raised a brow before he grinned. "Nope. She is tossing your room top to bottom, though."

"God's above."

Ryis helped him onto his stool, gave him a glass of cool water and medicine that Sandra set down there minutes after he arrived. March was panting as he slumped his head onto his work table. He clicked his tongue as he grabbed a towel. "Your hair's still wet, dude."

A frustrated groan came from him, but March took the towel from his friend's hand before forcefully scrubbing his hair, forming it into a mess of spikes.

"Stop that before your brain rattles too much."

He glared as Sandra stepped out from his bedroom, bedsheets and covers in hand. March watched her smile at Ryis, handed the dirtied sheets to the man as she made her way towards him.

"Did Ryis make you drink your medicine."

"Don't patronize me."

"But did he?"

"Yes."

She bypassed his glare as she looked him over. Sandra was more amused at his reaction more than anything, and she knew that he was fully aware of that.

"Alright, let's get you up."

She hefted him up, lightly stumbling back when he lost his balance and fumbled into her. It took both her and Ryis to swiftly get him back to the bedroom. The problem now, however, was that March refused to let her go.

"March, bed."

"No."

"March."

"You're warm."

Sandra sighed dramatically, smiling at him then at Ryis, who was curiously watching them from the door. She carded his mussed hair with her fingers, noted the color of his roots showing. "Your hair is getting longer."

"Hn."

"Gonna have to get Vera to look you over this weekend. But first, you need to sleep."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Don't make me shove you under the covers, March. You know I can."

More grumbling, more coaxing, but finally he relented and collapsed into bed.

"He's docile with you."

She raised a brow at Ryis, who brought over a cup of coffee once they've made sure March was asleep. "If you call that docile, I'm gonna eat a copper ingot."

He laughed, soft and sweet, as he sat down on the other chair beside the bed. "You really should see him with his brother when he's sick. Man's a menace."

She grinned at the image as she folded her arms, crossed her legs as she got comfortable on the seat. "I'd pay to see that, honestly."

"You're good to him." The expression on Ryis' face was soft, a gentle expression that she couldn't quite place. "I'm glad. Most people would have turned away from him from the get go."

A shrug. "I don't really take the sort of thing personally. Got used to it growing up."

There was something there, something more. But Ryis knew that pushing things that were personal wasn't the best of ideas. He was friends with March, after all.

So he let it go.

They sat in silence for a while, just watching March. A few more people dropped by. Reina with more food, Adeline and Eiland checking in, doctor Valen asking for an update and giving March another once over. Even Juniper stopped by with Dozy.

Ryis left a little later so she was left alone with March.

His temperature has gone down considerably after the bath, thank goodness. Whatever medicine Valen said to add to the water did its job, apparently.

Sandra wondered how her farm was faring as she made herself as cozy as possible on the armchair beside the bed. She had to trust Hayden to be able to manage it, and Celine offered to check on her crops when the blonde dropped by that afternoon.

She didn't realize she's nodded off late into the night. Didn't he saw he had awoken. But that was fine. He could do with a few hours without her fussing over him.

She was still when she slept. March couldn't imagine how comfortable sleeping on that chair could be, but she seemed to be fine with it, though she'll probably have a bitch of a stiff neck tomorrow.

The sharp throngs that bombarded his head that morning was now reduced to small throbs. The fog that clouded his brain was gone, and the aches was almost nonexistent.

He remembered the things he did, remembered how he was all over her in his delirium, how soft her hair was when it tickled his face, how her touched glided over his skin, at how much even in his sleep he yearned for her scent, the way her voice all but lilted his name in a way nobody said it before in his life. All of that did not at all please him at all.

And still he kept watching her sleep, watched the way she slowly breathed in, out, in out. It calmed him enough to slowly lull him back to sleep. Until her breath hitched.

Fingers clutched the blanket she had, her calm face contorting into distress. Her breathing shallowed and small whimpers huffed out of her mouth.

It startled him to see her like that, enough so that he pushed himself to sit up, pushed himself to stabilize himself.

"Sandra." His voice was almost a whisper as he didn't want to distress her even further. "Sandra, wake up." He nudged her foot, one, two, four times, as he said her name. Kept saying it. "Sandra-"

She jolted awake, eyes wide and a little crazed. "I'm fine, I'm fine-" There was a heave to her breath, a tremble to her hands as she focused those blue eyes on him.

"Breathe." He took her hand as he held her eyes as he breathed in the way the she showed him hours prior. "Breathe with me, Sandra."

And she did. She calmed down far quicker than he expected, as if she was already used to something like this.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." Her eyes were closed, but still she forced a smile as she nudged him back to bed. "I'm sorry for waking you. You need more sleep."

There was something in her eyes that told him not to argue any further, so he just grumbled but assented.

Sleep took over him as quickly as his head hit the pillow.

-0-

It was the banging of a hammer to the anvil that woke her up.

Sandra bolted out of the chair, looking around and swore in frustration when March wasn't in the bed. She opened the window and glared.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

He merely flitted her a glance before turning back to the forge. "Working."

"March I swear to the gods that if you collapse again-"

"I won't," he hissed. He set the hammer down and crossed to the window, rolling his eyes at her as he leaned against the windowsill. "Whatever the hell that medicine was made me good as new." And her fussing but he didn't dare tell her that.

She actually snarled. "Come back to bed. Now."

He smirked, leaned up to her face. "Gee, if you want to sleep with me that bad, you could've said so last night."

Her eyes flashed, not with anger but with amusement which she knows he saw judging from his widening smirk, but she kept it up. "Come back here before I make you."

"Fine, fine."

And the bickering commenced, much to the amusement of Elsie that saw the entire thing from her place at the fountain.

-0-

oh my god i am so sorry this got so long afsdfsad

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masterlist

[steddieas-shegoes]

hello again! here's an angsty little steddie thought for you, because I'm sad and i am putting my guys in angsty situations in my head to make me more sad because the brain is funny like that: Steve decides to swing by to visit Eddie after his shift. They've been hanging out a lot more lately,with Robin off to college and the kids preoccupied with school. It's something he looks forward to. He's been spending the day thinking bout the things Eddie says when it's just them. The way he tells Steve that people underestimate him, especially his intelligence. The jokes they share, the soft gazes over a blunt on the front porch. The best part of Steve's day. Truly the best part of his life, nowadays. Especially the soft moments they have together, where Eddie kisses his hairline with a hand resting on Steve's thigh. It's happened a few times but it never turns into a full fledged kiss, but he KNOWS it'll happen soon. He's about to knock on the trailer door when he hears Eddie chatting with his band mates, which is a surprise because band practice is on thursdays not wednesdays,but that's okay maybe he can get to know them a little bit-. "What are you even talking about, Eddie? you're practically drooling over Harrington every time he walks by" His hand freezes mid air and he blushes to himself. "Harrington? nah he is NOT my type." And that? oh. that's...not ideal. But, maybe he can switch up his style a little bit? He knows Eddie isn't the type to wear polos, that's. That's alright. "No way you're SUCH a liar!" "I'm not lying!" Maybe he's just trying to hide his crush?(Images flash in his mind of Eddie's hand creeping up his thigh, and his breath on his neck,before blushing and turning away. Placing his hands back onto his own lap. A soft smile and a blush high on his cheeks.) Maybe he's- "Okay shut up, I'll admit he's easy on the eyes. But dudes only got like two brain cells to rub together." Huh? But he told him monday that- ("You're so smart Stevie, they don't give you enough credit.") "I thought you hung out with him a bunch lately?" "Yeah,it beats watching wheel of fortune. It's funny to listen to what the king has to say, it's like talking to a door stopper." ("You always have something interesting to say.") The echoing laughter rushes through Steve's ears,grips his heart like a vice, before settling like a brick in his stomach. "Nothing behind those eyes!" (I always used to think your eyes were brown, Stevie. But there's green, and red!) Right. That's, that's. Hmm. That's. Go home. It's time to go home. "What was that?" Run back to the car. "Stevie?"Don't say anything. Get your keys get out TWOBRAINCELLS get OUT OF HERE YOU MORON. "Hey wait don't leave, did you uh overhear, of course you heard. God Steve I didn't mean it,I swear. i was just talking a big- I'm so sor-"Don'tlisten.Don'tcryyouidiot.STARTTHECARGETOUTOFHERE.ofcoursenot!ofcoursehedoesntwantyou!ofcoursehedidntthinkyouweresmart.stopcryinggohomegohomehedoesntwantyouherehedoesntwantyouatall.stopcrying.dryyour eyes(NOTHINGBEHINDTHOSEYES). just stop. Get out of here.

Hey

I’m holding your hand when I say this

how dare you (affectionate)

this broke my heart into 726251527382 pieces

in my head, Eddie follows him and begs for forgiveness and Steve makes him work for it because he’s not gonna let anyone in his life who won’t be all in even if it’s just as friends

Eddie does work for it. Harder than he worked to do anything else

he knows he fucked up so bad and just got carried away trying to get his bandmates off his back. he really genuinely didn’t believe anything he said but now he knows Steve thinks he did and he shouldn’t have even said it as a joke or exaggeration regardless of if Steve would hear or not

He even shows up the morning of Robin’s going away party to help run errands for Steve and set up in the rain that wasn’t in the forecast. Steve finds him crying on the back patio over one of the decorations that got ruined by the rain, and he apologizes a million times “I know it’s not enough it’ll never be enough but you have to know I wouldn’t do it on purpose I didn’t know there was rain coming and I would’ve kept it all inside” and then Steve is holding him and telling him it’s okay, all of it is okay

I can’t keep them sad for long it’s my most ridiculous trait

[ukiyowi]

Spirit guides personality and messages

Note: Hope you like it! Reblogs help a ton. I got hospitalised recently and it would be a huge help if anyone would be interested in buying paid readings or tipping! Every little penny helps! Thank you so much 🩷🩷🩷

Pile 1

Personality

Cards: The Devil (rev.), Wheel of Fortune, Queen of Swords.

The strong female energy that's coming through, I heard warrior/generational warrior. Your spirit guide is cold and detached, independent I'm seeing they're very very strong and loyal. They're also extremely powerful, I'm getting that they'll only communicate with you if needed, letting you fight your own battles, however they're very protective. I feel if anyone ever does you wrong, it always comes back to them in the worst way possible. They're someone who's very wise and travelled, they don't like meddling too much. I also get strong maternal energy, so maybe this is a female ancestor. What's funny is when the first two cards fell out, I was thinking of a warrior with flowing hair in an Armor with a sword and then the queen of swords fell out. Again, giving me warrior, very strong and analytical. They're straightforward and blunt, may come off as grumpy or annoyed occasionally. Like their space, someone who's fair and trustworthy. I'm getting they may like things staying the same, they love routine.

Messages

Card: The Tower (rev.)

Stop trying to resist good change. If something is falling apart, it's meant to trying to hold on to it will bring nothing but delay, hurt and harm. Go with the flow, stay true to yourself. Rebuild what was fallen because now by then you'll have learnt from your mistakes.

Song: Lullaby for a cat – Epik High

Pile 2

Personality

Cards: The Moon, Page of Wands, 7 of Pentacles

Okay first message I got is they're very communicative, and may try to talk to you or send messages through your dreams. They may be emotional and irrational at times, I'm also getting may be doting in a way. They seem optimistic and cheerful! I'm getting extremely fun and daring energy, there's not much that scares them probably because of how long they've been around, the kind to have seen everything. They may be a little fast-paced however, I'm getting if you're not progressing fast enough, they may try to step in, guide you in the right direction (or try) so that you can grow faster, they just want what's best for you. They're determined and persistent, very balanced energy, they value stability a lot especially mental and emotional stability and may help you manifest faster. They're selfless and fiercely protective especially against evil eye or the envy of others. You may have a lot of people who dislike you because of your success, your spirit guides protect you from that negative energy so it doesn't manifest into your life.

Messages

Card: Page of Cups (rev.)

Don't let others envy bring you down, nurture your inner child. If you keep working all day every day without giving yourself time to heal and replenish your energy, everything you've worked for will come falling down. It's not easy to forget or forgive the happenings of the past and you don't have to, but stop holding onto them with a vice grip.

Song: Fall - Sasha Sloan

Pile 3

Personality

Cards: The Fools, The Lovers, 3 of Cups (rev.)

First thing that came through: past life lover, a past life lover is your spirit guide, or someone who carries that energy. They can be a little scattered at times but they're youthful and love adventure. They also seem pretty idealistic for better or for worse, I'm also getting they're very patient and understanding, a lot of compassion is coming through. They're agreeable and cordial, I see that they love new beginnings and cycles, they are also extremely abundant in showing their adoration, either through symbols, signs, animals all of that. They're critical by nature, sometimes too much but they try to tone it down I'm hearing and focus on the positives. Yeah, I'm not getting much to be honest, they would love to communicate with you, I hear they use animals a lot as symbolism and can be blunt when giving advice or guidance simply because they feel like sugar-coating is a waste of your time.

Messages

Card: Page of Pentacles

You've worked very hard so far, keep that up, there's new things coming into your life that will send you back in motion. Lay your foundations before building your empire, don't sway from the goals you set and you'll be good to go. Remember to stay humble and grounded, meditate.

Song: Older - Shallou

All rights reserved, do Not plagiarise. Ukiyowi©®

[rb19]

what tracks do you think max has a chance to win (or at least podium) at for the rest of this season? & which one's are probably going to be hard due to the limits of the rb19? & thank you for being the voice of reason right now at a time when everyone, including me, is feeling really down about max's wdc chancdes.

in one of waché's interviews before the summer break, he said rb20's strengths are rear-limited tracks and hot conditions. we saw that in austria quali, when max managed to qualify ahead of lando by +0.4. and he would've won that race if not for the slow pit stop. it wouldn't have been a comfortable win, but we ain't gonna see those anymore. every detail needs to be perfect.

but what are 'front-limited' and 'rear-limited' tracks?

front-limited: tracks that ask a lot from the car's front end. so the speed you can carry through the corner is limited by the maximum grip the front tyres can generate. circuits with long, interconnected, fast corners.

rear-limited: logically, tracks that ask a lot from the car's rear end. circuits with higher prevalence of slow corners, characterized by heavy braking followed by significant acceleration on corner exits and long straights.

for example, hungary and zandvoort are heavily front limited. bahrain and austria are heavily rear limited. but most tracks are only slightly biased in one direction, so it's not possible to put each one of them in a little box. the track condition can also affect these traits, if the track is too green or if throughout the weekend there's big variations in temperature, the balance can switch from slightly front limited to rear limited or vice versa.

i can see the mcl38 performing in every track. zandvoort might have been only their second big upgrade of the season, but they've been introducing track-specific parts almost every round and will continue to do so. qatar is heavily front-limited, that's mclaren's playground. even in 2023, lando could've won that race had he started in the front row.

the rb20 underdelivered in zandvoort. they need all three practice sessions to setup the car and they got only one. in the end max ran an old spec floor (for comparison purposes) and a monaco rear wing (in case it would rain in quali and help with the tyre deg on sunday - it didn't, the unloaded setups worked better). they saw max wouldn't have the pace to challenge for the win and decided to take risks. it doesn't matter if it was max's home race, think of the big picture. they still need to run experimental setups in order to understand the car better and improve it for the late stages of the season and even next year. this car STILL has potential to win races. it would've won in spa had max started from p1, i don't know why max fans choose to ignore that. its aero efficiency is still the reference.

SO. with all that said and considering recent performances...

i am optimistic for monza. it's a a neutral track, the low drag favors the rb20. it might not have the same straight line speed advantage it enjoyed over competitors in 22/23, but it's still a factor. track has been resurfaced and it looks like temps are gonna be around 28/30ºC which can help.

+baku: yeah it's a street circuit, but a very rear limited one, low deg and low drag. the rb20 can perform well. -singapore: knees on the floor. start praying for a top 5 finish. ferrari we need your help. singapore is actually rear-limited, like monaco, but its curbs and bumpy nature won't allow the stiff rb20 to be stable. -cota: neutral... but i'm leaning towards mclaren bc high deg +mexico: maxico and inshallah. rear limited and low deg but bc of the high altitude it needs a lot of downforce.. still have faith we can take it tho -interlagos: mcl38 +las vegas: low deg and low drag, rear limited, but cooler temps.. rb20 can you help me out here -qatar: mcl38 +abu dhabi: bit rear limited, low deg, rb20

btw this stuff is not black and white. it just gives you a reference. shovlin has said the w15's weaknesses are hot conditions and rear limited tracks. the w15 was expected to perform well in zandvoort.. but you see, it didn't. a lot of surprises to come. mercs and ferrari are gonna play a big part in this championship.

but don't quote me on any of that!! 😁

[were-team-fortress]

!! SURPRISE HUG !!

MY MISSION IS TOO GIVE EACH AND EVERYONE OF YOU A HUG. NO ONE SHALL STOP ME.

[Soldier counters your hug with his own, sweeping you off of your feet and spinning you around! Sadly, the hug is way too tight for comfort, and you have to escape before he breaks something.]

[Scout is surprised for a second before giving you a quick one-armed hug. He's blushing and thinks about it for the rest of the day.]

[Pyro hugs you back with all that they've got, giggling happily!]

[Demo clings to your neck, almost taking you down with his weight. He's trying!]

[Engineer gives you a warm hug, complete with back pats.]

[Heavy puts his hand on your shoulder comfortingly, smiling to himself.]

[Sniper doesn't know what to do with his hands, hovering them over your back. He's embarrassed by how he handled the situation and slinks off.]

[Though Spy's hands are glued to his sides, he's overjoyed by the attention and excuses himself afterward to hide how red his face is.]

[Medic takes a moment to process it before leaning down to place his head on your shoulder, trapping you in a vice grip. He can't help but laugh.]

[Pauling freezes before melting into you. She needed this.]

[The Administrator cant remember the last time she'd been hugged, returning the gesture sadly before shooing you away.]

[Saxton takes it as a challenge and tries to crush all of your bones! Its a horrible hug.]

[Bidwell gasps quietly and pats your back. He won't look at you afterward.]

[cowgurrrl]

Getting Older

Author’s note: FUCK IT WE’RE TALKING ABOUT TOMMY’Y GRIEF

Summary: "I love my little brother so much. I wish I could take back the years I spent treating him like I didn't." aka Joel and Tommy Talk [1.5k]

Warnings: discussions of deployment/Army, mentions of Sarah and Tess, pregnancy, deceased parent, learning to love someone even when you can't recognize them anymore

The brothers had been avoiding the topic pretty much since Joel learned of Maria. They were close once. Of course, they were. Joel let Tommy live in his home, work with him, and help him raise his daughter once he came back from Afghanistan. When the nightmares got bad, Joel was there in his stoic, big brother way to ask about therapists and support groups for veterans. When Joel didn't have enough money to buy Sarah a bike for her birthday despite scraping together pennies and dimes for months, Tommy miraculously came up with it after a few rounds of Texas Hold' Em at the local bar. They were a team. Had been since their mom died. 

But twenty years of a world ruled by fungus is enough to break any bond. The first few weeks in Jackson are rough. Not only are Joel and Ellie recovering from their journey, but Jackson offered up a whole new world of pain that Joel didn't even know existed. Kids Sarah's age running around without a care in the world. His baby brother suddenly no longer a baby anymore but a husband and a father-to-be. The little graveyard a little further away with lovingly etched headstones that make his stomach turn when he thinks about the river his little girl died next to. Couples walking the street hand-in-hand, and he knows Tess hated PDA, but maybe she would've made an exception. You don't realize how big a bed can be when it's suddenly empty for the first time in a decade. They struggle. All of them. There is no one in this little fucked up family that goes untouched by the hurt. 

It takes a month before Joel invites Tommy and Maria over to their house for dinner. Joel does his best to make a niceish dinner and even buys freshly cut flowers from the market. Ellie teases him about it, and he teases her back, but deep down, he just wants everything to be okay again. Normal. Tommy and Maria arrive with a wave of polite smiles and offerings of help, which Joel refuses like any good host. He finishes dinner while Ellie tells her aunt and uncle about school and her new friends. It's quaint when they sit down at the table together. If you squint, you could almost believe this is how it's always been. 

They shoot the shit and tell stories and enjoy the meal Joel lovingly made for them. Joel even asks about the pregnancy, which makes his insides clench like a vice grip, but he doesn't let it show. Maria gives surface details: how far along she is, how she's feeling, how the nursery's coming along. He's silently grateful they don't talk about names or clothes. He'd always saved Sarah's baby clothes in little boxes in the attic. "Just in case," he told himself. Whether it was in the event of a sibling for Sarah or a cousin, he never got to find out. Now he wonders what became of the boxes of pastel pinks and yellows somewhere in Austin. 

When Maria yawns and announces she's tired, Tommy offers to take her home. She refuses and looks at Ellie. "I've got some more clothes for you back at the house. Wanna come look at them with me?" She asks. Ellie looks to Joel for permission or maybe reassurance that she's safe to go with Maria. He nods and picks up her empty plate. "You better get a move on." He urges, and just like that, they're out the door and talking like they've known each other forever. Joel and Tommy collect the dirty plates and wash them in the sink side by side, a tradition their mother instilled in them so young they can barely remember a time when they didn't do it. Tommy's the first one to break the silence.

"She's a good kid." He says, testing the waters, and Joel nods. 

"Most of the time," Joel says, laughing to himself. "She's nothin' like Sarah." It's the first time they've talked about her. Really talked about her for a long time. Tommy freezes like he's trying to figure out what to say or do, but Joel continues. "They're both smart and funny and strong. I think they woulda even been friends. But Ellie…" he trails off. "Ellie's just different. A pain in the ass, sure, but different." He shrugs as he puts a cup face down to dry on the towel next to the sink. "And your little one'll be different, too."

"Joel-" 

"I know you're gonna wanna compare them to Sarah 'cause that's what I did, but it don't work like that. Every kid's different. You just gotta figure out how. You gotta give 'em a chance to show you who they are." He continues. Tommy knows not to interrupt him when he gets on a soapbox like this. So, just like he did when they were kids, he stays quiet and follows his big brother's lead. "I'm happy for you. I really am, and not 'cause I'm forcin' it or anything. I always knew you were gonna be a good dad, and I know it now."

"But?" Tommy asks, and Joel shakes his head. 

"No 'but.' I'm just thinkin'." 

"'Bout what?"

"Your wife kinda scares me," Joel admits, making Tommy laugh. The sound is reminiscent of summer days spent roughhousing in the backyard or playing with little green Army men in the kitchen while their big chocolate lab, Arlo, lay on the cool tile nearby. 

"Yeah, me too," Tommy says, and now it's Joel's turn for childhood giggling. When the laughter dies down, Joel turns and looks at his brother fully. If he looks past the beard and the long hair, he can almost see the eighteen-year-old he dropped off at boot camp all those years ago. It pushes on an ache in his heart, and maybe that's what prompts him to finally say what he's been dodging this whole time.

"I wish I was there," he mumbles. "Your wedding." The weight of the admission hits Tommy square in the shoulders, and he clears his throat. 

"Me too." 

"Was it… I mean, was it nice? Did you get all fancy or anythin'?" He asks, and Tommy chuckles. 

"Yeah, it was nice. Borrowed a suit that was a little too big, and Maria wore a dress that was a little too old, and we got married down at the courthouse few years ago. I've got a few pictures if you wanna see 'em." Tommy smiles, and Joel does too, and for a second, they're not men beaten down by wars and death. They're two little boys with missing teeth and red popsicle staining their mouths. 

"That's nice," Joel nods. "You deserve nice. I want you to have nice. Always did." The words drown out the dripping sink and the wind blowing through the trees and shaking leaves against the windowpanes. They land somewhere deep in Tommy's stomach, where he stored all emotion and grief down after that September night when he dragged Joel away from Sarah because he was being a "fuckin' idiot." They don't fully relieve him of what he feels is his share of the blame for how things happened, for what happened to Sarah, but they made it a little less heavy. Tommy didn't realize tears had sprung to his eyes until Joel sucked his teeth and pulled him into his chest like he did when Tommy scraped his knees, falling off his bike in second grade. 

"I love you. I'm sorry I acted like I didn't for so long." Joel whispers, his own tears threatening his lash line, and Tommy tightly wraps his arms around his big brother. 

"Love you too," Tommy says, removing a stone from the pile on Joel's shoulders. "Thanks for comin' back for me."

"I'll always come back for you. You're my brother."

Not a soldier. Not a hunter, a raider, or a smuggler. Not even a patrolman. A brother. It's been a long time since Thomas Miller has been allowed to only be a brother. He thinks he likes it. He thinks he can get used to it. He thinks there will never be a day after this one where he doesn't include brother in his list of titles because, for once, he's proud to be Joel's brother, and he will be until the day he dies. 

When they were little, and they used to fight over stupid things like bikes and what music to play in the car, their mama would look at them in the rearview mirror and raise her eyebrows in the exact way Joel is prone to doing and shake her head. "Now you two better settle it 'fore I settle it for you," she'd scold. "Y'all are gonna have to learn to live with one another 'cause I'm not gonna have all this fightin' all the time. Y'all are brothers, and that's gotta count for something." Tommy thinks he can hear his mother's voice in his head as they cry together for the first time in decades. He thinks she'd be happy with the way they turned out. He thinks she'd be proud of them for coming back together in this way.

They're brothers, after all. That's gotta count for something. 

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha

[ltsmoving]

(i got mad distracted writing this one lmao)

Imagine, if you'll humour me, a newbie pred. They're only just starting to explore this new diet, and it's great! but they've never exactly been a fast runner and actually catching prey can be difficult.

To compromise, they instead plan to stalk and kidnap a prey, and it goes a lot smoother than roughing it! but now they have a different problem on their hands. They have the prey back in the privacy of their home, but they just can't bring themselves to do it- they're a living person too!

The prey is strapped to a dining room chair in the cold basement of the pred's house. They glare at the pred as they pace back and forth, weighing up the guilt they'd feel against the gnawing, prickling pins-and-needles of the hunger that would bite back and kill them if they didn't sate it soon.

When the pred checks back on the prey, they're hunched over in their seat, only stuck upright by their binds as faint, delicate snoring comes from them. It is rather late, the pred considers, deciding that they'd sleep on the decision and leave the prey to their own sleep for now.

In the morning, they bring the prey a glass of water, not wanting them to croak before they're in their stomach. As the pred helps the prey by holding the glass for them, the prey takes notice of the pred's shirt, and finally speaks up after drinking half of the glass.

"You like that band?" they squeak out, voice hoarse with strain. The pred is confused for a moment before following their gaze down to the shirt they were wearing- a band graphic tee they had bought a few years prior that was always too big for them.

The pred hesitates for a moment before responding. "I used to. I know some songs, but I usually just sleep in this."

A breathy laugh rests hollow and cold on the pred's skin as the prey looks back up at them. "I never expected a predator to like prey music." There's bite behind the comment, but a curious and genuine smile plastered on their face that the pred can't help but return.

"Hey, good music's good music." Both of them laugh lightly, and a conversation starts up naturally. Just a back-and-forth of small talk as the two get to know each other a little better.

Before long, the pred is so lost in the conversation that they'd forgotten all about why the prey is there in the first place. They feel even more guilty than before and sit in silence for a moment while they reconsider their options.

Surprising the prey, the pred walks behind them and loosens the binds on their wrists, the prey tentatively shifting their arms from behind their back to brace themselves on the chair as they go to stand.

They turn to smile and thank to predator, but are quickly pinned to the ground and met with the gaping darkness of the maw before them. The prey wrestles and fights against the predator, pushing desperately against their shoulders to wrench their head free- but, like a vice, the predator's jaws only grip tighter, refusing to let as they take a strained, painful swallow.

It's an arduous process, but little by little they work the prey down their distressed oesophagus, the dryness of their skin and clothes scratching at their throat as they cuss themself out for waiting so long- they just taste that good!

One final gulp sounds and reverberates around the empty basement, sending the last of the prey down into them as their gut expands and sags, pushing the chair that just held them out of the way of its girth. The predator gently and curiously feels over their bloated stomach, prodding where the skin stretches, caressing the sore underside.

They have trouble moving, but hoist up their gut and sluggishly carry themself, and their prey, up the stairs out of the basement and into their living room. The rest of their day is spent trapped under the weight on the couch as they try their best to stay awake through the food-coma that suddenly overcame them.

That feeling of guilt they were dreading quickly dissipated as they revelled in the afterglow of the meal . It was understandable why so many predators are so hasty with their prey- if not out of morality, out of pure hedonistic rapacity.

[tosahobi-if]

YUL LIKES TO SEE THE MC CRY?????? oh . ohhhh. ohhhh. they've got me in a vice grip. they're got me so down bad.

would it make it worse or better to know that they only like seeing the mc's tears when they're the cause of them HAHAHA

[lullaebies]

Hey! Can you do some headcanons on what it would be like for Helaena and Aegon as parents if the Dance never happened? They were really young when they both died, so would they have more babies if they lived? What would it be like for the twins and Maelor to grow into teenagers, what would the marriage plans for them be like? Love your content btw ❤️

Oh sure!! This should be very fun. The Dance not happening AU could mean a lot of things so there would be many variables, so bear with me a bit haha. (And thank you for the compliment, dear! <333) [also I'm sorry for the length of this if you ask me about the kids I really can speak for HOURS about my hcs.] Helaegon as Parents, Part 2 - No Dance AU Headcanons

⁎ For the if they had more babies question - probably yes! I don't see them abstaining. I think as the first kids grow older Helaena might specifically want more childen, but generally they would just happen as it is the way of life, regardless of planning or not planning. ⁎ Speaking about more children - Helaena and Aegon would be so bad at naming, lmao. They wait until the baby is out to decide, lol. I think Jaehaerys was named after the Old King via Alicent influence and Jaehaera was named in tow to fit, so Maelor would've been the first true name they've chose (I personally imagine that was from Helaena; also for the record, I genuinely don't believe it had anything to do with Maegor lol). Anyways, they would suck at it, and I imagine they'll have a lot more joke names they talk about. Imagine Aegon coming to Helaena like "Daemon the Younger. To piss uncle off." (He got very inspired from Aegon III's naming pettiness😂) and Helaena is like "I should kill you and make our son Aegon the Youngest" LMAO. ⁎ I always said this, but I do feel like there would be a cycle of hardship in the family; Aegon and Helaena were both not exposed to the best of parenting and Aegon will continue to struggle with his substance abuse/vices, which will obviously have effect. I have gone on several tangents on how I can see him and Jaehaerys butting heads like crazy as the father vs the oldest son. I do think there are times Aegon would try harder to be an active parent, especially after Jaehaerys and him get into a big fight, or Jaehaera mediates, or Maelor being visibly upset. I also think there inherent guilt in Aegon for a lot of things, I do think he will try to be better after he gets a few slaps from his first children, as he doesn't want to be like Viserys. His younger children will get the better of it, likely. I like to think he could find power in the fact his kids believe in him still despite everything. ⁎ Helaena would be such a sticky mom ahhh. Jaehaerys could grow taller than Otto and she would still look at him like he's a baby, Jaehaera she would want kept close too (As Alicent wanted her close, cough) and not even speaking about Maelor! I do believe all the kiddos would have her side on most things - Jaehaerys and Maelor being Biggest Defender no. 1 and Intern Smoll Defender no. 2. Jaehaera is The Conciliator coded and she tends to be midway, she'll probably be the one who is most honest with Helaena. ⁎ If Helaegon have more kids, needless to say the first three would be a pretty hands on crew of sibling help. Probably particularly the twins. I think Maelor might have to go through an ick phase at having a younger sibling always on his toes, though really he was just the same to the twins when he was born.

⁎ Some Teenage personality headcanons: Jaehaerys - mr. Trying to be good enough and work hard to be good enough. Extrovert using humor to cope, can be shady and also defensive like dad. Feels like he has a very big responsibility to help mom and family. He takes to a warhammer as a weapon in the future as he has a grip of six✨ Jaehaera - Careful in her steps, emotional intellegence based girl who is a bit too kind on other people sometimes. Likes to sew, and she makes her own dolls as she grows older. Introverted but Tries. Can be awkward when she's not used to someone or can't tell what they're like. Maelor - forever the first family baby, but he is the type to try and push against it LOL. I actually imagine him a bit more bookish and curious. Skinnier kid but has quips and he talks back. I think he's shyer outside of the family, people that don't know him gaslight Aegon his son is not a menace at all, "all he does is read books in the library and be cute are u fr" vibe, but in reality he learned from brother to not take shit. He's a Grandma kid for sure, I like to think he reads to Alicent back when she's elderly. ⁎ To end this off, on marriage proposals and the likes: I think no matter what AU spoken of, one thing that Helaegon would always agree on is that they would prefer their kids to find a love marriage, and I very much believe they would not be into putting them into Targ incest shenanigans unless the kids express they want it. this is one thing they want to break the chain in and are in full agreement - helaegon do not want the kids to have the same burdens they had to deal with. Overall this topic is muddy because its very much depends on the cirucmstances of things, but in the grand scheme of things - if helaegon are not pressured for alliances/not reigining king and queen, love marriages would be preferred if not at least arranged marriages where the prospective spouse is well regarded and of fitting status. If they are pressured for alliances as king and queen - Houses like House Lannister that are Green supporters will likely be considered first, then general houses that can benefit the crown and stability of the realm (possibly even Rhaenyra's family if its to keep the peace), and only then proper houses where the kids find someone they like. It is the feudalistic monarchy way. At the end there would be an attempt to give the best for them, one way or the other.

[twistedwonderworm]

Warm (TWST NSFW)

Pairing: Jamil Viper x M!reader

Warnings: Waxplay

Word count: 407

Everyone in this fic is 18+

🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍

Y/N shivered as Jamil's warm hands trailed down his body, letting out a soft sigh. He was trying to calm himself down but he was too excited. Jamil gave him a soft smile and a gentle peck on the lips as his hand gripped the special candle he got just for this moment.

"Are you ready, dear~?" The vice housewarden asked his partner, rubbing Y/N's chest softly, his deft fingers playfully tugging on a nipple.

Y/N mewled softly, arching his back to press his chest closer to Jamil's hand. Though Jamil soon pulled his hand away, causing Y/N to whine.

"Darling, remember what I said," Jamil huffed. "This kind of play is extreme. I need to make sure you understand this and are completely ready."

The magicless human thought for a minute, remembering all the talks they've had about this kink. It was something that Jamil really wanted to try, and Y/N had been excited to try it out with him.

He soon nodded, "I'm ready, love." He settled back down on the towels underneath him, set there to catch any stray wax so they wouldn't ruin the floor.

Jamil leaned back and smiled, taking some time to admire his beautiful lsoft and to make sure they had all the stuff they needed. A first aid kit containing burn ointment lay next to Jamil's left knee and right next to that was some lukewarm water and a washcloth for washing off the wax when they were done. Satisfied that they remembered everything they were going to need, Jamil turned back to his lover and started their play.

When the drops of wax hit Y/N's skin, Jamil could see the muscles in his abdomen and arms contracting and relaxing as a soft hiss left Y/N's lips. This was addicting to Jamil, especially when he saw Y/N's cock twitch.

"You're still with me right, love?" Jamil asked with a small smirk resting on his lips.

Y/N's face grew warm as a flush crept over his cheeks and he nodded, "Yes, I'm still with you. Can we continue?"

Jamil nodded dripped about more wax over his lover, his free hand trailing over the skin that was wax free. He smirked more when Y/N gasped and shivered more, knowing that the pain of the wax was heightening the other sensations. He knew that they were both going to love this kink.

[artdivadej]

Survivor’s Remorse

Part 9

18+ | PTSD

Part 10

When I awake again, I feel well rested and secure. I'm curled up in a ball around someone who's unnaturally warm. The arms around me tighten a little as I wiggle. Blinking a few times, I see that whoever was my cuddle buddy, didn't have much choice in the matter. My hands were practically inside their vest as I held it in a vice grip.

Oh.

Oh......

Oh shit!

I tilt my head up and see that I am in fact curled up against Peeta's broad chest, his arms wrapped tight around me as we slept.

This was not safe. I could’ve accidentally killed him in my sleep!

"G'mornin" he mumbles with a yawn above my head

I face the consequences of my actions and pull my head from his chest, sliding back a little, not that his arms allowed me to go but so far. His eyes are groggy but trained on my face, inspecting.

"How do you feel?" he hummed

"Rested" I admit "You shouldn't have slept here"

"Not like you gave me much choice there sweetheart" he chuckles looking down to his chest

I follow his gaze and quickly unwrap my nails from the vest. There are even punctures in the fabric where they'd been clutched.

"I'm sorry"

"Don't be. I haven't slept that well in a while either" he grins sliding into a sitting position

I follow suit and look around the cellar. I'm nestled between Peeta and Cressida, Katniss is checking Finnick's shoulder over on the boy's pallet. It's still dark out.

"How long was I out for?"

"A full day. Tigress brought more food and news about the fighting. We've started planning what to do from here"

"You should've woken me"

"No. You needed the rest. We can strategize and fill you in later"

"What's been decided?"

"The rebels are in the city. Only a few blocks from here so, they're evacuating. Most will be going to the mayor's mansion tomorrow. That's when we leave" he explains

"We'll put on some disguises and fit in with the others going there. Gale and I will be together. I look enough like you that it'll be a distraction in case someone does figure out who we are"

"You could just let me go first. Even if a mob chases me, it's a Capitol mob. I can outrun and overpower them to buy some time for a distraction" I offer, taking the can Cressida offered me

"No. You and I will be together"

"I'm not going to just throw myself at an angry mob" I sigh

"And how am I supposed to trust that?" he fires back accusingly

"I guess you can't. I can't promise the mutt version of me wouldn't hurt you when the gunfire starts either"

"Exactly. So we go together"

***

Haymitch pats my knee twice.

"Even in 13 you didn't have it easy. Yet, look at you now sweetheart" He smirks gesturing between me and Peeta, whose nose is buried in my hair "A Victor doesn't begin to cover the two of you. Don't let each other go. You'll need one another"

"I guess I'd better go pack" I sigh, not wanting to leave the safety of Peeta's arms. In our home.

I wanted to stay buried in his scent forever. Shielded from a world that had taken all of me and even after I regained myself, or part of, they still demanded more. But my Peeta. My sweet Peeta. He had hands that made everlasting memories of warmth and love for all blessed enough to see his creations. As long as I was with him, I could weather any storm.

***

When we got to the train platform I was practically vibrating with nerves.

It was the same train.

I stop cold in my tracks and just stare at the infernal thing. My carryon bag forgotten at my feet. So many hijacked nights from my days and nights on this very train. Why did it have to be this train?

As I feel myself beginning to drown, warmth envelops me from behind, secure arms wrapped around my waist. His lips and nose are buried in my hair and it calms my palpitating heart.

"They didn't give use separate rooms this time" Peeta informs me

"I think after the maybe-baby bomb, they've given up all pretense of us being pure" I snark, pleased that he threads his fingers through mine and give a squeeze

"Not like we ever followed that rule anyway" He chuckles picking my bag up and slinging it over his broad left shoulder, his right hand still in mine.

I let him lead me into the train towards the north end, close to the nose, where our room would be. We're in between it, in the dining car, that is thankfully not set up like a opulent feast. There's a spread but it's humble. A roasted duck, some venison slices, and rabbit with a bowl of greens for a salad. Peeta must have informed the train staff about my appetite. I wanted a bite of that rabbit now, but I knew I had to get settled first.

"I'm going to find Haymitch. Make sure he's not bullying the staff in the bar car. I promised to keep him behaved until we got there" Peeta rolls his eyes playfully

I wrap my arms around his neck and tuck my face into the column of it, taking a large inhale, trying to commit his security and scent to memory. Rubbing my nose against it, I melted my body to his. He dropped the bag and quickly gathers me up in his arms, always understanding me without a need to hear it.

"I'll be right back. I promise"

"I'm ok. I'll be OK" I repeat to reassure us both

I know that Peeta won't let go before I do, so I reluctantly release him, then take a step back to make sure I don't pull him right back into my arms.

"Go. Before I change my mind" I growl giving his hard chest a small shove that doesn't even make him budge

"You're a bossy little thing today" Peeta teases before throwing his hands up in surrender and taking long, quick strides to find Haymitch in the other car.

I take a steadying breath, scoop the bag up and walk into the compartment. When I step inside, my breath catches and sweat breaks out over my cool skin, terror seizing me tight. That bed. I walk over to it with legs of lead, running my fingers over the silken sheets covering the mattress. Even the colors of the sheets were the same. Then the door opens and in he walks.

Mean Peeta. 

My cheek throbs, a memory so viciously clear, knocks the wind out of me. I feel the haze taking over and I can't fight against the overwhelming fear. It's threatening to pull me under and I can't make sense of where I am anymore as my breath comes out in heavy pants. Pupils receded to miniscule slits, hands twitching with the need to fight back at the mist forming the Visage that is Mean Peeta. His slow stride towards me, distaste tilting his lips as his too bright eyes look me over with boredom.

He was here. How did he get here!

No!

I roar loudly and throw a lamp that'd been sitting on the dresser at him, refusing to let him near me ever again. He ducks the lamp and smirks at me condescendingly. I wasn't caged anymore. I'd rip his damn throat out.

Where was my Sweet Peeta?!

[shadowphoenixrider]

The Rescue Gambit (2/5) Break In

(Previous: Meet the Team)

"Looks like they beefed up security after your friend's break-in." Lemming muttered, watching a pair of armed guards stroll by the gate in the perimeter fence.

"I was afraid of that." Shadow cursed. "Alright, this is gonna be a lot trickier than I thought it would be." She looked back to the others clustered behind her. "No heroics unless it's a last resort, okay? Bullet wounds are hard ones to heal."

"Great, now we have to worry about being shot at." Drifting grumbled.

"In fairness, we were probably going to be shot at anyway if they found us." Myst commented. "Gambit probably got lucky."

Shadow glanced up at Lemming, who was watching the patrols and the two men guarding the entrance of the main building intently.

"What you reckon?"

"They're packing Beretta M9s, probably woulda gotten heavier stuff if they weren't so close to town." Lemming said, his critical hazel gaze flicking over them. "Heavier stuff is probably in the weapon lockers of the main building." He nodded to the more administrative looking building, where a tech firm would usually have holed up, if not for the chain-link fencing and large warehouse next door. "So be careful when you get in there."

"What do you suppose they have?" Ebak asked, gaze fixed ahead.

"Ah, hard to say. But they look like they've got some money backing. Expect SMGs, shotguns, maybe a long rifle like an AK." Lemming explained. "Regardless, if you raise the alarm, things are going to get ugly very quickly."

"That doesn't bode well for Gambit's status either." Shadow muttered. "If we're lucky, someone just twatted him over the head. If not..." She shook her head, trying to push the thought out of her head, including the cold chill that gripped her heart like a vice. They must have taken him alive, right?

"Then we can't waste much time." Ebak spoke, looking over his shoulder. "When we get in, we find and hit the security office first and cut off all communications. Then we can split into taking out the rest of the guards, finding Gambit and getting him out."

Shadow nodded.

"Yeah. I'd prefer if we could all meet up before extracting, but I can understand it's probably best if we scatter. The longer we stay here and the more people we neutralise, the more attention we attract," she said, turning to the others. "I'll go first with Drifting and Ebak. Myst, stick with Ber, look cute and harmless. Ber," she smirked, "you don't need me to tell you what to do."

Myst sputtered something, blushing slightly as Ber grinned toothily at him, whilst Shadow's attention turned to Lemming.

"You gonna be alright out here?" She asked softly.

"Yeah." He offered her a sad smile. "I know I can't be much help here. Your mutations are all more useful than mine."

"Lemming..." Ber said warningly. "What did I say about being kind to yourself?"

"Not now, lads." Shadow broke in briskly. "I agree with Ber, you're not useless. In fact, I have an idea. Those two there." She nodded to the two guards posted outside the entrance of the main building. "Look like they've been on duty for a while." A smirk. "What say you give them some encouragement to desert their posts, hmm?"

Lemming frowned at her, before the penny dropped and a great big grin split his bearded face.

"Oh! Right! Yeah, I can do that, give me a second."

He turned towards the pair, lifting a hand in their direction and subtly twisting it, like he was turning a dial. Nothing happened, for a moment. Then one of the guards shuffled uncomfortably, glancing around. His fellow glanced over to him, too far away for them to catch his words. They held a conversation for a couple of seconds, both becoming annoyed before one of them shrugged their shoulders and turned around, going inside the building. His fellow hesitated for a moment, shifting uncertainly before following him.

Lemming glanced back to Shadow and the others with a giant grin on his face.

"Huh! Guess that is useful after all!" He became serious, looking from one person to another. "You all take care, okay? I'll be here if you need me to call. Make sure I don't need to, no heroics!"

"We will." Shadow smiled, nodding. "Ebak, if you will do the honours at clearing our path?"

"Of course." His deep, smooth voice sounded out behind her. "If you'll just look away for a moment..."

His voice cut out all of a sudden; looking back, the man had completely vanished, nary a trace of him remaining.

"Drifting." The other woman nodded, also vanishing; all but her clothes, which hovered in the air like some ghostly mannequin. "Myst, if you'd be as so kind to get us inside, please?"

"Sure. One quick portal coming up."

The skin under his palms lit up a bright light blue, and a quick gesture opened a shimmering hole at their feet, a blur of grey and brown glimpsed through the light.

"It's on the wall, you'll have to fall." He advised.

Shadow nodded, holding her hand out for Drifting to take. Although unable to see, she felt the other woman's hands curled around hers, her cells shivering under her touch as her power coursed through them.

They took a steeling breath, before they swung their feet out over the swirling void, letting gravity pull them in...

...Before all but spitting them out the other side of the admin building's wall. The entrance was to their left, and they could just see their friends loitering in the alleyway. Someone gave them a thumbs up, and the portal mouth collapsed behind them with a soft whisper. Pressing their backs against the wall, Shadow quickly looked around.

"See anyone?" She whispered.

"Shouldn't do, the patrols are having a nice long nap." Ebak's suddenly sounded out in her ear, and the women just managed to bite their lips hard enough not to cry out.

"Fuck's sake, be careful!" Shadow scolded him. "You're lucky we're out here and not in the building itself."

"Sorry." Ebak held his hands up. "But the outside is clear, at least."

"Good. Mind letting us in? Doubt they'll be amused with us walking in the front door."

"Give me a moment, I'll see about getting you in this window." Ebak twirled his finger, signalling her to look away. Shadow turned her gaze instead to the main entrance.

"You gonna be alright in here?" She asked Drifting, still feeling the woman's presence close to her.

"I think so. Just so long as you don't ask me for directions." She replied in her soft, deep voice. Shadow reached out to where her hand would be, squeezing the solid presence she felt.

"We won't leave you alone. Ebak and I will have your back." Shadow assured her, smiling. "Like I said, I intend for all of us to get out of this, and going in pairs should reduce the chance of being jumped and caught."

"But okay, but who's-"

The window above them creaked open, and Ebak's large hand reached down. As the smallest, Shadow went first, before they pulled Drifting up with them, in a slightly undignified manner - her invisibility thankfully saved any blushes.

The room was dark, tables and chairs piled and stacked up against the wall, with an open broom closet in the corner that Ebak had manifested within. Pulling the window almost closed, they crept up to the door, glancing out of the window into the corridor.

"Looks like they haven't been here long." Ebak murmured. "Nothing much set up except the security office, maybe some places for the 'employees', a reception and wherever they're holding your friend."

"Yeah. Either they got a cash injection to get this place, or it's a gang looking to expand their holdings." Shadow muttered. "Do you see where the office is from here?"

"I can take a look." Drifting said, stepping around Shadow to look out the door's window. With her power and in the dark, she could stand in almost plain sight without any danger.

Whilst she did, Shadow closed her eyes, tapping into her powers and straining her ears to listen for the familiar noise of an injury. She swung her head around slowly, sweeping the room as best she could, but nothing aside from dull, muted noises that could have come from anyone.

"There's a guard going into a room across the way, to the left." Drifting spoke. "It's the only one with a light on in it."

"Makes sense, you'd want it in the centre of the nexus of corridors, just behind where the reception would be." Ebak mused. He arched his scarred brow when Shadow opened her eyes. "No joy?"

"No. He's deeper in somewhere."

"Could they have put him in that warehouse?" Drifting asked.

"Too dangerous." Shadow shook her head. "The risk of him getting out with all the information about their operation would be too high. Better to stuff him in a random room until they figure out what to do." She took a steeling breath. "At least...I hope..."

"We'll find him." Ebak said bluntly. "We just need to get into the eyes of this place."

"Guessing you need a bit of a hand?" Drifting asked.

"Yeah. I could do it but I don't fancy my chances alerting the whole place if I screw up." He smiled. "I'll need the assistance of someone a bit stealthier."

"Okay. What's the plan?"

"Distraction. Shadow keeps watch whilst you open the door. Either they look to see who's opened it and I'll take them out, or they don't and you can slip in and help me clobber them." Ebak grinned. "Sound good?"

"Only in so far that I don't have a weapon." Drifting replied.

Ebak smirked, twirling the pipe wrench that had suddenly appeared in his hand.

"Don't worry Drifting, I have that covered." He held it out handle-first to her. "Careful, it's heavy."

The tool lifted up, before almost jerking out of his hand.

"Oof! You weren't kidding." She muttered, the wrench wobbling as she adjusted her grip.

"Keep it with you. You might need it again." Ebak gestured, another wrench suddenly in his hand again. "Right, shall we?"

Drifting checked the corridor, signalling with a thumbs up, and slipped outside. Shadow moved to keep watch, her back to her adoptive brother to let him teleport.

The plan seemed to go off without a hitch, the occupants distracted by the door seemingly opening on its own before they were tag-teamed by the two mutants. Shadow lifted a finger to her ear-piece and its microphone clipped to her hoodie.

"Myst, can you see into the first room on the left of the entrance?"

"Yeah, just about."

"Bring yourself and Ber."

There was a long pause, in which Shadow returned to her watch, before a portal yawned open in the wall behind her, both men stepping through.

"All good?" Myst asked, Ber wrapping Shadow up in a brief, tight hug.

"Yeah, just sorting the office out. This place seems safe enough to hang for now, but don't do anything too risky." Shadow said, before she pulled away from Ber, pointing at him. "And be gentle to those guards, big man."

"I'll do my best, but no promises." He grinned sweetly.

"We should probably find a place to stash them." Myst muttered.

"Ebak'll know, and he can help clear this place out." She was interrupted by her ear piece buzzing.

"Room's clear if you want to move up." Ebak's deep voice sounded out.

"We'll keep watch." Myst said, gesturing for Shadow to go.

After waiting for a guard to pass, who seemed none-the-wiser to the mutants causing havoc, Shadow quickly scuttled into the security room. As befitting its name, it was filled with banks of fat CRT monitors with fuzzy black and white footage playing on them. Under one of the desks was a pile of the incapacitated guards, limbs tied with shoe laces and gagged with fabric torn off their bodies.

Drifting stood watch at the door, whilst Ebak gestured Shadow over to one of the larger monitors, typing on its clunky beige keyboard.

"Myst and Ber are in now," she said, moving to Ebak's side.

"Good. Hopefully we won't need Ber, but it's always good to have some muscle." Replied Ebak. "I've got the feeds up, let's see if we can't find Gambit."

Shadow's blue eyes searched the grainy footage, trying to find any sign of her friend in the flickering pixels. Her heart sank deeper and deeper in her chest each time she gestured for Ebak to change camera. His face also fell as he sensed her distress, a tense silence falling over them.

But as the view switched to the camera labelled 'BSMT', the black and white static shaped itself into figures that were unmistakeably a line of cells, their bars clear even through the grain. A guard lingered just below the camera's sight, armed with something large that two hands were needed to wield. She leaned closer, squinting.

"Anything?" Asked Ebak, his tone so soft she almost didn't hear him.

"I think..." Shadow pointed, the fuzzy energy of the CRT brushing against her fingertip. "In that one."

His dark brown eyes stared hard, the images reflecting in them.

"Hard to be sure since it's so dark. But if he's going to be somewhere, it's there." Ebak nodded. "One of these terminals must have a floorplan, give me a second."

"Found him?" Drifting asked, looking over her shoulder. Or, that's what Shadow presume she was doing, the way her halter top was twisted around.

"Think so. They've managed to set up some strange prison in the basement, bars and everything. So I reckon that's where they've put him, if anywhere."

"Sounds legit. Although, who makes a whole dungeon in the bottom of their criminal enterprise? Seems very obvious you're doing something illegal down there." Drifting commented.

"Yeah, not nearly as plush for a-"

"Don't finish that sentence." Ebak said from his place at the computers, raising his eyebrow at her. "We are here on business, not to make fun of architectural design decisions."

"Ah, because of course, you, the Evil Genius Premier, would never build your Lair like this." Teased Shadow, giggling as Ebak mimed zipping his lips.

"Yes, well. Don't say that too loudly next to your Professor, or he'll think you're serious and I'll be subject to counselling..." He said, typing rapidly on the keyboard.

"I think we could all do with some of that." Drifting murmured. "Would there be space for the rest of us at that mansion, you think?"

"Maybe? I dunno if the other X-Men'd be ready to handle that many people at once..."

"Got it!" Ebak interrupted her thoughts. "The stairway to the basement is straight left from here. Definitely chose this room for optimal placement, I'll give them that."

"Alright, left from here. Anything else? Plan of the basement, maybe?"

"Yes and no. It's here, but it's password protected, and we don't have the tools to break in." Ebak shook his head. "There is at least one guard down there though, so be careful when you both go down."

"You staying up here?"

"Well. You need someone holding the fort here." He smirked, twirling his wrench in his fingers. "But call me if you need me. I can bring Myst down if you don't manage to convince the guard to hand their keys over."

"Okay. Just..." Shadow grabbed his hand, squeezing it. "Stay safe, alright?"

Ebak smiled, pulling her into a warm hug.

"Only if you do too," he said, patting her back. "Now go on, go save your friend."

(Previous: Meet the Team)/(Next: Rescue the Cajun)

[enihk-writes]

[dancing in the dark, in the pale moonlight]

pairing: baek cheon x afab!she/her!reader

summary: fuck that stupid ass job that almost cost you your relationship, am i right?

word count: 5.54k

[01] ║ [02]

content warning: an attempt at the reader's life // reader's injuries are gory (kinda) // mentions of someone (not the reader) being buried alive // misogyny as per the product of the era // reader talks a little on religion and the afterlife

author's note: i started writing this the moment i posted the other part because my brain was still working in high gear and all... i'll have to postpone my other baek cheon fic for a while,,, i wrote topics in that one that are a bit toooo heavy for me rn. i researched on fashion through the dynasties in china for like,, one short segment on the story. so anyways... if my guess is correct hwasan timeline is most likely inspired by the sui or tang dynasty during the 581-907 AD which means that the spirit here is going to be from the qin or han dynasty around 220 AD and most martial artists uniforms come from this era iirc. i feel like i might not actually use this research too closely,, but i had to put this in to tell yall about what i found lol...

[PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION! I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY TRIGGERS CAUSED BEYOND THIS LINE]

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by the time you arrived at the deserted manor, the clock had struck midnight. and in a few moments, the spirit or spirits behind all the bride murders would be making their appearance.

chief...

the vice-captain starts, uncharacteristically. they've always been on the quieter side, never really talking unless they were spoken to. you raise your eyebrows, curious about what got them to speak up.

chief, please be careful.

you smile softly, tussling the vice-captain's hair.

i will.

you look around for a moment. hm, looks like you'd have to put in your best effort tonight, as the oldest since these kids relied on you. with a flick of your hand, everyone on site dispersed to their assigned positions, waiting for their next orders.

you stood all alone outside of the bedroom, waiting patiently for the critters to grow quiet. animals, after all, are said to have a keen sense for things outside of the human realm.

finally, the long-awaited silence fell onto the empty courtyard and you slide open the doors to the room — stepping in carefully. your padded feet barely making a sound as you walk into the carpeted room. from where you stood, you could see the shadows cast by the sparse furniture under the dim moonlight. you hadn't decorated the place, not really seeing any need to.

click.

the doors to the bedroom had been slid shut. you fold your arms behind your back. the spirit should be here soon.

hehehe...

a tinkling laugh swept past behind you in the dark bedroom.

you grip the short blade hidden under your sleeves, honing your senses to pin down the other presence with you at that moment. it was harder than anything you've done before, were you dealing with something far bigger than what you were capable of?

no. you had to snap out of that thought. if not you, then who would get rid of this vicious entity? those kids were still too inexperienced, you shouldn't grow disheartened now.

sighing, you walk around the room, stopping by the open window, looking up at the moon hanging in the cloudless sky.

how peculiar, it seemed the longer you were staring at it, the heavier your eyelids felt. it was almost bewitching, looking at the moon, you wonder if it was a trick of your hearing or was the moon calling you to move closer towards it? and also —

wasn't the room growing awfully cold?

your body reacted faster than your mind did, the blade whistling as it cut through the air to slice at the shadow forming behind you.

an ear-piercing hiss came from the shapeless being, slowly backing away as its features took form in the body of a girl no older than sixteen. she clutched her neck, and though the cut was shallow, she certainly looked like she felt the pain from it.

how dare you cut me!

she yells and lunged at you, catching your neck in her hands as she pins you to the ground, the furniture around you clattering away from the impact. you were sure you could've heard a bone crack in you.

keugh...!

you felt the air leave your body, you tried to breathe but it was hard, with the way her hands pressed down on your throat. how was a dead spirit this strong? your fingers grip the blade tighter, cautiously getting it ready so she wouldn't see.

with a swift action, you stabbed into the girl's side and she retreated to the furthest corner of the room with an almost animalistic growl, all while glaring at you.

you throw the ripped veil off your head, the flowers falling off and your hair coming undone. you stood up, wincing at the dull throbbing in your head, your vision going blurry for a moment — curse your anaemia for acting up now of all times.

you crazy hag! i can't believe you fucking stabbed me!

okay, now that was just straight-up disrespectful.

hag?

hag?

oh, so the insane bride-killing ghost that died at sixteen years ago, even before you were born, wasn't the hag — but you were? you were the hag? where the hell was the justice in that, huh?

you roll your eyes and sigh. no, you shouldn't be swayed by your short temper, you shouldn't let the spirit find an opening to attack you. remember — you had to finish the job before the night ended and the spirit got away.

you walk towards the girl in large strides, arms raised above your head, ready to strike her down with the purification sword. you didn't want to think about how much worse it could get if a spirit that didn't know how strong it was found out about its strength. not leaving a trace of their presence after such a gruesome act? you shudder from the thought.

the girl begins to cry.

you tell yourself that this was all an act, but it was hard to convince yourself. especially when the spirit had curled herself into a ball, shaking in fear, her eyes peeking out from her arms to look at you like a scared little girl.

your movements falter.

that was a mistake.

a hazy, clawed hand unfurls from behind her and reached out to slash at your chest, right where your heart lay. you stagger backwards, the cut had been deep enough to have you cough up blood. as your open wounds stained your already red dress darker, the shadow lingered at your feet, seemingly trying to collect your blood.

you tried to move back but you weren't fast enough.

the girl lunges at you again, but this time, her spirit went straight for your core, in a final attempt to possess your body and finish you off, probably.

as you fought to stay conscious amidst the myriad of voices assaulting your mind, you think back to something your master told you in passing when you were still in training.

something about spirits and their last will?

silly girl, every spirit has a last will. and not everyone knows what to do with that will. their grief takes the form of vengeance and i can only hope you know what to do when you ever come across a restless soul like that.

═══════════════

you wake up facing a young village girl.

gasping, you stumble backwards and hit a hard surface. but, it was weird. well more accurately, it felt weird. you were sure you were in a wooden house, so the walls would be rougher, so why did it feel fuzzy?

wait. the girl didn't seem to see you.

you walk cautiously around her, looking at her features carefully. her skin was tan from the time she spent under the sun, it was a little uneven and spotty in some areas. she was just a teenager, and that was kind of expected. you follow her gaze and see that she had been looking at herself in the mirror.

you wave your hand in front of her eyes to get a reaction out of her. she didn't seem to notice.

you blew air to see if she would hear it, but not even a single strand of her hair budged.

defeated, you try to swing your arm and slap her back — only for your whole arm to phase through her body.

ah?

your mouth hung open in shock. your whole arm went through a person, have you truly died and become a spirit?

no. that wasn't it. you reason with yourself.

this was the ghost's doing, and she wasn't here with you right now. this scene unfolding before your eyes, could they be a clue on her, or were they a distraction to fool you?

a horse whinnies on the road outside the girl's window. a barrow wheel squeaks as it turns, the horse's feet clipping noisily on the pavement. you peek past the wooden panes, eyeing the passing residents. their clothes were all plain and coloured in dull or muted tones. the texture looked rough. this wasn't a well-off part of town.

you look at the village girl. her hair was slicked back and tied into a low bun. her clothes were a little worn and a little dirty at the hems. her hands and feet calloused from the years of hard labour.

小燕！

the voice of an older woman calls from another part of the house, wiping her hands on her apron, the girl fixed her appearance one last time before she scurries towards the direction of the voice, while you stayed behind in the room

xiao-yan? as in little sparrow?

my name is actually 春燕 (chūn yàn). my mother just likes to call me xiao-yan at home.

the ghost had been standing next to you, her voice still edged on hostility but was softer now, nonetheless.

your mother?

the person calling to me.

the ghost walks out of the room as you trailed behind, looking past to see the old woman sitting on a chair by the doorway. needle and thread in hand, patching at tattered clothes. her crows' feet settling deeply on her features.

my xiao-yan ah... please be careful on your way out... come home before dark okay? don't make me worry okay?

you worry too much ma.

the village girl, or rather, the human incarnation of the spirit next you chirped as she made her way out the door. you wondered what the spirit was trying to show you, was this her life story before she crossed the bridge into death?

you kept your mouth shut, not wanting to ask more questions. the spirit continued to narrate.

i forgot everything about my time alive, except for this one day.

a sigh.

everything went wrong all in this one day.

═══════════════

you blink your eyes slowly, now walking alongside the village girl and the spirit. to your left you could see the sprawling acres of farmland and the town bustling with life below. looking ahead and past the hanging branches stood a towering gate.

no one had to tell you that this was where the lord's family lived.

the girl was led to the main hall where the lord and lady of the house resided. you and the spirit followed closely behind, passing through the countless maids and attendants working around the compound, it was fascinating seeing how no one could see or sense either of you. two beings who were not a product of this era, your bloody clothes and the ghost's tattered ones, you both stood out like sore thumbs.

it was silent. muted, almost, in the main hall. the lord and lady sat side by side as their son stood by his mother, his hand resting reassuringly on her shoulder.

do you know why we have called you here today?

the lord asks, gravely.

no, my lord.

the village girl shakes her head, confusion swirling in her eyes, as she sat on the ground, kneeling before the family.

the lady grows agitated, she leans forward in her chair, opening her mouth to spew a tirade of grievances when the young master of the house gently pushes his mother to lean back in her chair.

let me, dear mother.

the village girl feels her heart race from his smooth and velvety voice. she'd only ever heard about the young master through rumours and quick glimpses through the crowd, so to be this close to him, the other girls from the village would be shaking in envy. she quietly notes that he was much more stunning up close — she must be really lucky today.

perhaps she had been staring for too long because the young man had cleared his throat awkwardly.

miss, i assume you must have heard about my older brother?

she nods, remembering the procession from earlier that year.

yes, may the first young master rest in peace.

the room grows silent to pay their respects to the deceased.

the young man spoke up again.

we are worried for my brother in the afterlife. he died without ever getting wed. we don't really want him to be made fun of by other spirits in the afterlife you know?

the village girl grows confused. she wasn't sure what he was getting at. what has the marital status of a dead man have to do with her?

the fortune teller we consulted has calculated that you are the best marriage candidate for my oldest son. so we want you to get married to him as soon as possible. by tonight if time permits.

with her voice shrill from agitation, the lady of the house sits up, fist shaking in the village girl's face, unable to contain her anger at the young girl's supposed stupidity.

the village girl on the other hand, felt her jaw go slack, she tried not to let it hang open from the shock of her lady's words.

marriage? to a dead man?

she's heard of horror stories of young brides being buried together with their deceased husbands whom they had married before his life expired. but those were supposed to be just stories! not an actual practice... right?

miss, i don't know what you might be thinking. but i assure you that this marriage will not be as morbid as it sounds. take it as any other marriage ceremony, except without the groom. you just have to sign papers and be my brother's bride on official documents! after that, you and your family will be rewarded handsomely for the trouble. this won't take over a day!

sensing the village girl's worrying silence, the young master interjects quickly, wringing his hands trying to close this deal as soon as he can. the faster their family gets this done and over with, the faster his life can continue from this standstill. his thinking was truly like a businessman's.

hearing that her little contribution would be compensated generously, she didn't think twice before agreeing to the suspicious deal. if it was like that then, when she goes home with the money, her mother wouldn't have to work anymore.

well, if that's the case, let's start the preparations now. the faster we get this done, the faster we can all go on with our lives.

the lord finally spoke up and with a clap of his hands, the room was filled with attendants, most of them surrounding the confused village girl. helping her to her feet in hushed tones, taking her away to presumably prepare for the ceremony that night.

the spirit follows the crowd and you hesitate following behind. the whole exchange felt off to you. surely, if you stayed here the family might let something slip, something that would prove your suspicions.

though you didn't have much choice in this matter. the features of the people in the room began to melt and drip, the scene morphing rapidly to the next part of the spirit's memory.

that's right, you had forgotten again. everything you saw was from the spirit's perspective. anything else beyond that was all up to one's imagination. was there really nothing you could do?

you hated this feeling.

this feeling of knowing something is going to go wrong, yet being so powerless to stop it from happening.

═══════════════

imagine having to sit in a tight space with a spirit, and a memory fragment who doesn't know you and the spirit exists. there was only that much space in the palanquin, and your knees touched the spirit's even when you were hugging them to your chest.

sorry about the space...

you try to start a conversation. but the other just wasn't interested, opting to stare at the image of herself — the village girl sitting across the both of you in this tiny palanquin. you look around the boxed space, noting the shoddy workmanship. looks like those nobles were really in a rush to get this done and over with.

the wind picks up and the curtains flutter upwards.

the night scenery was beautiful but—

this isn't the way to the lord's house?

the village girl mutters. and you had begun to think the same. sitting up with your senses heightened, you try to make out where the attendants were taking the girl. the spirit continued to remain unfazed.

something bad was about to happen. wasn't it?

the movements stopped abruptly, and you felt the palanquin being set down on the ground. the curtain slides open, a slender hand reaches out to guide the village girl sitting inside.

don't take his hand...

you try to tell the girl, you didn't like the heavy smell of incense and dirt surrounding the area. but of course, you were nothing more than a spectator to this whole ordeal.

you watch on helplessly next to the spirit as two footmen threw the village girl into the freshly dug-up pit. the fortune teller circles the pit, tossing water into the hole as she chants mantras of matrimony. all while the village girl calls for help, begging tearfully for mercy and her life. the overwhelming feelings of her fear washing over you again and again, knocking the air out of your lungs at each crashing wave, your heart squeezing tightly in your chest.

it seemed as though this just wouldn't end, as you watched the dirt fill up the hole and the poor girl's voice grow tired and hoarse, the pain grew from your heart to the tips of your fingers and dropped down to your stomach, swinging up and down like a pendulum continuously, making you even more nauseous than you already were.

but finally.

finally, the ordeal stopped. the sensations you felt lifting and leaving your body in a heated mass. everyone stayed silent at that moment, letting the sins of what had occurred sink into them. no one spoke, no one dared breathe a sound under the moonlight, lest the spirit of the village girl heard them.

there was shuffling and low greetings of reverence left the people's lips as they all stepped aside for a hunched-over man in heavy white robes to make his way to the edge of the covered-up pit. you could tell from where you were knelt over in pain that he was an exorcist similar to you.

he mummers prayers and covers the ground in talismans written in red ink, bells shaking with each step he took. binding chains reaching up from the scattered talismans to wrap around the spirit taking shape above them. poor girl, even in death, she wasn't allowed to rest in peace.

═══════════════

you blink, wincing at the bright sun shining into your eyes.

the spirit stands next to you, chains holding her down on the ground. you didn't have to look to see that you were both above her grave.

i was so stupid, believing all those lies. my mother collapsed when she heard about what happened to me. she couldn't pay for the house and she eventually died in an alley without anyone finding her corpse until days later when rats had already gotten to her. maybe if they had given her that money they promised to me, i wouldn't have been as angry about dying like this.

the spirit clenched her fists, teeth gnashing together in rage.

as if burying me alive wasn't enough, they called a fucking exorcist to cleanse this area, all because they were scared i would come and bite back at them for doing this to me.

the spirit's voice grows more irritated.

it's not fair! it's not fair! why do they get to die and move on to the afterlife? why did they get to continue to live their lives like my blood isn't on their hands? why did they get to have a happy marriage, a healthy baby watch their children and their children's children grow up to have their own families like my life was just... was just...

the spirit, no — chun-yan, began to cry, her back heaving as her sorrowful wails pierced your heart. she was just a girl. she was just a little girl barely on the cusp of adulthood. how could anyone be this cruel to her? how could the heavens let this happen?

you reach out to hold her in your arms, letting her cry her dead little heart out.

you wished things could be better for her. you truly did, however, what about all the innocent lives she had taken in vengeance? she still has to atone for that action.

it was abit of a shot in the dark, she didn't tell you nor did her memories reveal anything to you. but to free her spirit, you had to fulfil a wish of hers, this was the one and only shot that you had with this. if you got it wrong, you might have to go through a harsher method of exorcism. you hoped it wouldn't go to that stage.

yan-ah.

the girl sniffles.

chun-yan.

hm?

she asks you her eyes watery and tired.

is this the wish you had while you were dying?

you ask, throwing over the red veil slightly tattered at the edges, somehow still in your possession. you smooth the crinkles over the girl's head like an older sister would on her younger sister's big day.

═══════════════

the memory was collapsing.

you look around the dark space around you, taking a while to register that you were back in the bedroom where this whole thing first began. you lean back with a sigh, your head was starting to spin, you were sure that by tomorrow, you would be down with a fever.

chun-yan stood up, making her way to the vanity with a mirror at the other end of the room. she looks at herself for a long time in the mirror. a strong gust of wind blows through the open windows, toppling the remaining standing furniture. the curtains billowed in the currents, hiding chun-yan behind them.

your worries subsided when the winds died down and brought down the curtains with them, revealing chun-yan now dressed in proper wedding attire. a clean and crisp red veil, a long and thick wedding dress made of red silk with golden decorations embroidered into the fabric. the girl's hair was done up in two half buns with fresh peonies and flower buds woven into the thick tresses.

you bite back from making any noise. your heart swelled with a bittersweet feeling. you wished chun-yan's mother, the little old lady who you've only caught a glimpse of, could see her beloved daughter like this too. you rub your nose, sniffling.

...it suits you well.

chun-yan looks longingly at the moon, and then turns her gaze towards you. fidgeting, she asks quietly.

am i going to hell now?

yeah. you are.

your shoulders drop and you look at her sadly. you wished you could give her good news. you wished the world to be more fair, but you weren't god. you were merely someone who built bridges for spirits to cross over to the afterlife, in the end.

because i killed all those people... right?

you nod.

is it going to be scary?

probably.

chun-yan fiddles with her thumbs, picking on her nails.

mother always told me that bad people go to hell. and i became a bad person that's why i'm going there... right?

chun-yan... listen.

you ponder for a moment, you didn't really want to send her off with this heavy feeling.

sometimes, good people also go to hell. and it's because these good people made a mistake... and then another... and then another without stopping or thinking about stopping. and when they realise that they have been doing all these terrible things, they feel bad and if they are willing to atone, i think they should be allowed that chance to change...

you pause.

chun-yan... remember that you are going to hell to repent for the lives you have taken wrongfully. it's not because you were always meant to go there... i think. i hope that's not the case.

what did you want to say, what were you trying to say?

you weren't sure but, you wanted to ease the girl's burden a little.

hm.

chun-yan hummed. taking in your words. it seemed like she had understood something you hadn't. but whatever it was, it must have comforted her.

she stood still, flames growing at her feet. she didn't move or wince from them, letting it grow bigger and engulf her in it. as she disappeared along with the hellfire, she gave you a nod, perhaps as thanks for keeping her memories in your heart. you bow your head in reply, keeping it down until the crackle of the blaze grew quiet.

═══════════════

chief!

good god, who was it yelling so loudly in the morning?

chiiiieeeeffff!

heavens, were they crying? why are they crying like you were dead?

chief... don't die...

even your calm and collected vice-captain? now what was going on?

you try to sit up. emphasis on try, because for some reason you had been swaddled in layers upon layers of bandages. the smell of herbs crushed and rubbed onto your wounds and bruises was overpowering. to put it lightly.

ugh. what's going on.

chief!

the chief is awake!

you're still alive... huhuhuuuuuuu...

a chorus of ecstatic shouting and sobs was heard across the crowd gathered around you. judging by the voices, your best guess was that everyone there was the kids in your unit. seeing how happy they were, you must have passed out after the events of last night. truthfully, you barely remembered stumbling past the doors of the bedroom and into the vice-captain's arms.

all's well, ends well.

now, if the emperor would be so kind to give you a month—

no. a year, off work... you think you would be his biggest supporter. hell, you might even work for free.

but that aside, you think there might just be something you were forgetting right now.

═══════════════

baek cheon had volunteered to keep watch for that night. he barely slept since he came across you in that wedding attire. he was trying not to cry, but he's sure the junior brother sleeping across him must have heard him tossing and turning and borderline sobbing.

it was a little embarrassing to face everyone in the morning with his eyes puffy and face swollen. thank god chung myung wasn't with them this time, or baek cheon would have never heard the end of it.

he sits on a rock further away from where everyone else had set up camp. they were next to a stream, the sloshing of the water and the cackle of the firewood breaking apart soothed his senses. he thinks back to the times he had spent with you when the moon hung high in the sky just like this.

he sighs, leaning back against a tree with arms crossed — his fingers gripping his sleeves as he thinks again about the encounter with you the other night. you looked so pretty in a wedding dress, was he being too delusional when he dreamt about a future where you were wearing that for your marriage to him?

he sulks by himself, feeling jealous of the person he made up in his head, the person that he was sure you were going off to get married to.

he thinks the guy would be a little closer to your height, so that it made sharing kisses easier. the guy might have nicer hair, fluffier and maybe a little matted so you'd have a reason to run your fingers through it. your husband-to-be might have a more childish personality, much like yours so that the both of you would be on the same wavelength. he thinks the guy might also be mature enough, like you were so that you and him would ground each other. the other guy might have nicer skin that was soft and smooth and unblemished. his eyes would be fierce but gentle all at once, the shape of his eyebrows would be thick in a single stroke...

he realised the image of the guy was looking a little too much like chung myung.

tsk. that's no good, he was starting to get even more pissed off and upset.

cheon-ah!

this was no good. he was starting to hear things because of how much he missed you.

cheon-ah!

how was it that he could replicate the sound of your voice in his mind? truly, the yearning of a man in love was so fascinating.

cheon-ah!

baek cheon wonders if he was going crazy for thinking the voice was growing closer to him. poor guy didn't even get the chance to look over before he felt the full weight of somebody colliding with him. his arms instinctively wrapped around the other's waist, his body recognising that it was you faster than his mind would.

you're here?

he asks, bewildered.

baek cheon couldn't wrap his head around how you got to him so quickly. did you really abandon your husband-to-be at the altar like that? for him?

listen to me baek cheon.

the man nods mindlessly, revelling in the warmth of your being so close to his — he was barely listening, let alone registering what you were saying right now.

maybe he should steal in a kiss.

his hand find its way to the back of your head, pushing you down to have your lips meet his. whatever you had been rattling on about died in your throat, muffled sounds of shock morphed into soft sighs. you pull away, moving to sit more comfortably on his lap, legs swinging on either side, straddling him.

holding back a laugh, your arms circle around him, pulling him closer. he hadn't heard a thing you said from having his head up in his own clouds. what were you going to do with this man?

cheon-ah... did you hear what i was saying?

you ask, peppering kisses on his cheek, brushing his hair out of his eyes. baek cheon shakes his head, still very much starstruck.

tsk, tsk...

you tut disapprovingly, pinching his nose, breaking him out of whatever fantasy he was deep into. he looks at you, wide-eyed and a little offended by your gesture. he sulks when he meets your unimpressed stare.

i'm sorry... i'll listen well this time...

he whines quietly. not wanting to lose you to some other man again.

the other night, when you saw me in the wedding dress... it was for an assignment... you ran off before i could tell you about it... my poor baek cheon, tell me you didn't lose sleep over that?

his eyes widen.

an assignment? so... you weren't getting married for real?

the melancholy settling in his bones lifted instantly, his gloomy expression brightened, and his eyes started to sparkle. he didn't care about acting borderline pathetic these past few hours, you weren't getting married to someone else! and that was all that mattered to him right now.

what's going on in that pretty head of yours?

nothing... i... i'm just so happy that i still have a chance...

he mutters the last part of the sentence, hoping that you wouldn't hear it. but you did, of course you did. he can't have let the nature of your occupation slip from his mind now, has he? your squeal of excitement reached his ears, barely registering the flurry of kisses you were raining down all over his face.

cheon-ah! you like me enough to want to marry me? ah! my lovely baek cheon, hehehehe...

you were acting a little strange, he noted. were you ever this affectionate? what's going on?

he catches a whiff of the herbs slathered under your bandages, your forehead brushing past his cheek felt hot in the feverish sense. one closer look at you and he could see your eyes glossing over along with the sniffling you had been trying to hide.

no way... was the great inspector... sick?

you whine, throwing your head back as baek cheon desperately tries to catch you from falling head-first on the rocks. your temperature was rising and your head had begun to spin. no wonder it did, after all, you did run out of the room you were to carry out your bedrest in — without any food in your stomach or any breaks from what happened with the exorcism last night.

you just knew you had to clear things up with baek cheon, the feeling of leaving the misunderstandings in the air, weighing at the back of your mind consistently.

ugh. it was embarrassing to have him see you in this out-of-character state. maybe when you got better, you will have to meet up with him again to talk about your relationship more seriously.

for now though, you just needed him to know how much you liked him back. and that you weren't going to get married to someone else anytime soon.

baek cheon though?

he's going to have to worry about how to explain why you were here to his martial brothers, and also bring you back to your unit somehow. but that was none of your concern, was it? you were already knocked out from the fever catching up to your body.