#//i hope its alright that I continue the thread on here? ^^//

[juniperdugong]

Stitch me up!

Pairing: Stein x GN!reader (Established Relationship) Genre: Fluff CW: Injury mentions, use of needles WC: 422

Day 6 of To Halloween with Love Event

A/N: Gasp! An actual (acceptable) drabble length for the drabble event?

"Ow!" You wince as you bring your leg up and onto the bed.

"Stay still. You'll get more hurt if you move..."

"hmph-" You muster a small pout as Stein drags himself across the floor by his rolling chair with surgical thread and needle in hand.

"Don't sulk. I mean unless the reason you're sulking is because you got your first wound from training and not by me-"

"Stein! Be serious." He reaches out for your messed-up leg with a smirk.

"Sorry, sorry." You look down on him from your position and furrow your gaze. It's not like he wasn't right. You did feel a bit of disappointment getting hurt like this. "But realistically, you shouldn't have gotten hurt today."

"Right. As if it was something I could control, Mr. perfection." You bite your lip and tense as he brings the needle and thread up to your flesh.

"Don't do that, anticipate the pain but don't fear it. Also- You totally could've controlled it."

"Well I- AHH!" You yelp as he pierces through and grab at Stein's hand to halt his actions.

"We won't get anywhere if you keep stopping me." He keeps his hands in position to continue but the rest of his body relaxes to address you. "I'll give you as many forgiveness hugs and healing kisses as you want after this."

"Liar."

"Why would I lie?" There's a lilt in his tone that you know could mean anything, that monotone inflection that tells you he can't be read.

"Fine..." You release the grip on his hands and immediately you scream out with pain as he holds your leg down with his arms and finishes his job. Swift but not without some force on his end.

Stein ties off the knot with a practiced ease and grabs a towel and bottle of alcohol. You lurch at the contact as the burning alcohol hits your skin but is wiped off as soon as it lands with a warm towel.

You sink into yourself, curling your knees upward as you admire your partner's work right below your left knee. "I wouldn't have tripped if you hadn't come into the room so abruptly..." you say in a hushed tone.

"You have to learn to expect the unexpected..." He rolls around the room putting everything back in its place before wheeling back towards you. Stein stands and drops down next to you, scooping you in his arms with a heavy sigh, "Alright, like I said hugs and kisses in exchange for forgiveness. How many?"

A/N: Lol I'm working double time to get the other fics out rn. I have had such a rough patch lately... But I don't want to take a hiatus ;-; Not me writing for a fandom on here that is largely based elsewhere. Hope this finds the right ppl 🤞

Please Reblog and Comment (They act as power-ups for me)

[angelofsmalldeaath]

Hi!! I hope you’re doing well love! 🥰 just imagine staying in with Andrew and cuddling all day with him playing with your hair. Little kisses happen here and there, but nothing too steamy. Just laying with each other perfectly content.

sorry i've been gone for so long but i have some free time today. it rained all day and this request is speaking to me very much haha because i would have loved to spend the whole day in bed (with andrew) alas... there is work

cw: sappy as always!!!

“do you think we could have one day utterly undisturbed?” he poses the question as soon as he’s awake. well, alert at least. beside him, i turn, still half-asleep, and bury my face in his chest. 

he’s sleep-warm and soft, yet to move and disturb our perfect little cocoon. 

“i am not the famous one here,” i snicker and feel him exhale. 

his fingers trail up my arm. it’s not intentional, i realise, he’s deep in thought. if i were to open my eyes (a herculean task) and look up at him right now, i’d see that all-too-familiar expression on his face—brows pinched, lip caught between his teeth, eyes faraway. 

“darling boy—”

“we should have a day,” he interrupts, and i crack an eye open, coming face to face with his white t-shirt. “to ourselves, i mean. you and me.”

“and your phone callls?”

“i’ll turn it off!”

“would you?” i smile at him lazily, finally open my eyes too. 

he looks exactly as i’d predicted, with the addition of soft sunlight on his face, lightening his green eyes some more. the red in his hair looks gorgeous like this—messy and unkempt. without much thought, i thread my fingers through it. he closes his eyes and smiles. 

“for you?”

“no,” i thumb over the crinkles around his eyes, “for you.”

he wrinkles his nose, like a child being told to finish his vegetables. “things feel better when i do them for you.”

“alright, then,” i relent and continue threading my fingers through his hair. it’s a languid movement, and yet he leans into it. “would you turn it off for me?”

“but it’s all the way over there!” he almost whines, pointing somewhere behind his back, at his phone that’s barely a foot away. 

i laugh. “and if it rings?”

“you have my full permission to chuck it out the window,” he declares, pulling me closer until we are one tangled entity, limbs intertwined—his leg between mine and my face tucked in the crook of his neck and his chin on top of my head. 

“what should we do then?” i giggle. it’s funny how much he doesn’t want to get out bed today, not to make coffee or use the loo, not to get a book to read and pass the time, not even to think about having breakfast. i let it be. it’s not often we have this. 

“stay like this?”

“for how long?”

“hmmm,” the vibrations from his voice pass through my whole body and send tingles down my spine, “the entire day maybe, the night too. i don’t know, forever.”

sluggishly he shifts, until his hand is right by my head, fingers weaving through my hair. it’s gentle, tender, so much so that i feel sleep coming over me once again, but i strain my eyes and stay awake. 

“i could get behind that,” i speak into his chest, voice muffled. a moment later, he tilts my chin up for a kiss—featherlight, barely-there, and yet it leaves goosebumps in its wake.

it doesn’t go unnoticed either. a moment later, he lets go of my lips and trails kisses up my arm—sweet, chaste kisses that somehow do the opposite of what he intends. or perhaps this is exactly what he intends. 

“and what happens when we get hungry, hmm?”

“is my love not enough for you?!” he grumbles and i snort, unable to keep it in at his exasperated tone. it takes more effort than i’m happy with, but when i kiss his nose in response, he smiles again. 

we stay quiet after that—maybe for a minute, maybe for an hour—but when i open my eyes, he’s already staring at me. 

“hi,” i giggle.

“hi,” he copies my tone. 

i feel a little shy then. there’s no reason for it. we have done this before—stolen mornings and tiny moments rescued from the clutches of busy afternoons, swamped evenings that still somehow hold pockets of quiet for the two of us—but he’s right here now, holding me so close like he never intends on letting go. 

i hope he doesn’t.

“sounds like a good day in my head,” i confess in a whispered voice, “to be here with you and do nothing.”

he nods and kisses me again, a little longer this time, a little more fierce. “sounds perfect to me too.”

[lietogirlsss]

LOST MY HEART!

street racer!carlos sainz x fem leclerc!reader

✴ summary: where you somehow found yourself in a skimpy maroon cocktail dress watching cars race eachother in the heart of the city and where carlos sainz found himself wondering what on earth had been keeping you from him all these years?

✴ warnings: swearing, google translated french, asshole-ish carlos kinda, mentions of murder, injuries, death, & suicide, blood, police chases.

✴ author's note: so uhh I guess this is me on my first attempt at entering the f1 side of tumblr LMAO. If you see any spelling or grammatical errors, no you didn't. Was this inspired by 2 Fast 2 Furious? Yeah.

The foul stench of decade old nail polish is like a good sock to the face. You had been sitting on the windowsill as the balmy summer air wafts in and out of your quaint little studio apartment, your tailbone nestled awkwardly against the ridges of the windowsill making you shift positions every 10 seconds instead of simply choosing to continue your business on your bed where your mattress and pillows were far more forgiving than the metal windowsill. You carefully and meticulously coat each of your bare fingernails with wine red nail polish as some 70s reality show continues to play in your TV in the background; the dialogue blurring with the faint buzzing of the electric fan rotating on its axis, the only reason why you weren't melting at this very moment.

You were on the last finger, carefully spreading the polish around so as not to get it to stick on one of your cuticles until your phone started to ring, you see your phone light up in the distance and you scramble to get to it. It had been Alexandra calling, you recognise the picture of her face before you even see the name.

You couldn't help but glance up at the upper left most corner of your phone and your eyes widen a centimeter as you slide the button to accept her call. "Where are you? Are you okay?" You demand and when she didn't answer in all but the 3 seconds you gave her you leapt off the windowsill and began scurrying around your apartment, beginning to gather your things to leave the house.

Then, you hear her tinkly laugh on the other end of the call. "Would you calm down? Everything's alright here chérie, no one has died."

You halt to a stop in the middle of your apartment. "Are you aware what time it is Alex?"

"Yes, I am." She replies, hearing the giant grin through her voice along with her velveteen monegasque accent that tickled anybody's brain.

You look at your wallclock, 2:45. "So why on Earth are you still awake?"

Before she could even respond, the obnoxious sounds of cars revving their engines answered for her. You roll your eyes as you pressed the video feature waiting for her to finally accept, and when she did you were greeted by your friend grinning cheekily at you along with throngs of people whooping and cheering behind three sports cars lined up and ready to race. "Come on," Alex says, giggling blithely at your disdainful expression. "You promised to come today!"

You visibly stiff. Oh yeah, you did. A week or so ago when you made her try Filipino street food for the first time, you hastily agreed to come to one of the street races so she would try kwek-kwek dipped in spicy vinegar, you've completely forgotten about it.

"You've forgotten, haven't you?-" Alex mused, voicing your conscience.

Your brows thread. "-Of course not!" You're quick to defend as she laughs at you once more and she gives you this sort of endearing look that made you feel bad. "Fine, what if I have?" You say, giving up. You walk back to the windowsill in hopes to finish off your nails.

"Make it up to me, come to the race today. I'll even pick you up!" Says Alex.

You guffaw as you twist the nailpolish bottle closed. "That's not likely."

"I'm serious!" Alex persists as she moves away from the boisterous crowd, hearing their voices fade away more and more by the second. She sits down somewhere and places the camera in front of her face, prompting you to do the same. "Come on, Y/N/N, come today! Support Charles! You know how much it would mean to him if you came and cheered him on! You haven't been to one of his races since Jules."

Your jaw tightens, your chest begins to feel immensely heavy, and your stomach churns. Not in that particular order. "I didn't have it in me."

Alex sighs. "I'm not forcing you to come, I'm just... heavily encouraging you."

"I know, I know" you reply somewhat distantly, though barely enough for Alexandra to notice; and as she speaks to somebody else about a lychee martini presumably ordering one from the 24 hour bar beside the track, you begin to weigh your options. It would just be one race, and anyway Suzuka was 9 years ago, it wouldn't kill you if you came today.

It wasn't like you had a sleeping schedule to maintain.

"You're thinking so hard you look like you're gunna bust a vein." Alex quipped, ultimately pulling you out of your reverie and causing you to blink repeatedly.

"I'm warming up to it." You confessed, jerking your right shoulder upwards. Suddenly, a notification pops up saying Charles was calling you and your eyes widened. "Why the fuck is he calling?"

"Who is?" Alex wonders.

"I'll be right back Alex, hold on." You replied, distracted.

"30 minutes." She says, pointing at you.

You roll your eyes as you laugh through your nose. "No promises."

She blows you a kiss, you do the same before you ended the call and accepted Charles'.

It automatically sends the both of you into video and you see Charles inside a car, your mood sours even more than it already has. "Chou, come today." You hear him say with a stern look in his eyes while the edges of his mouth curl up into a grin you recognise all too well.

You scowled at him. "Alex called me, she tried winning me over too. She's a great negotiator."

He lights up at the prospect of you finally coming to one of his street races. "So you're coming?"

"If I do will you finally propose?"

"That's not fair!" He exclaimed, laughing at you.

"You whore! The amount of testosterone I had to live with in my 23 years of existence was appalling! Enzo's settled down, Arthur is seeing that girl he met in Milos, what about you?" You demand, your older brother watches you berate him with a fond smile on his face, wondering just how fast time flies.

"I'm waiting for the right moment, you can't blame me." He replies simply making you scoff.

"That's bullshit and you know it."

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Language."

"Is Arthur there?"

He adjusts the grip on his phone. "No, that's why I want you to come."

"But you have Alex, isn't she enough?" You fought.

Charles sighed. "She's just my girlfriend Y/N not my sister, at the end of the day it's still drastically different."

You raise a quizzical brow. "Just your girlfriend? Wait til she hears this-"

"Come on chou, one race." Charles pressed, and you can feel yourself losing restraint as each second evades you. 9 years of hearing about Charles' accomplishments and failures instead of being able to witness them firsthand, tonight was the night where the incessant begging of Charles, Alex, and even your twin brother Arthur on the rare occasion would finally change all that. "juste une course." Just one race.

"One race." You found yourself saying, Charles smiles.

"I'll see you in an hour." You shook your head at him giving him a shrewd little smile. "You stink."

"Not as much as you, Chou." He replies swiftly. You flip him off, hearing the last remnants of his laugh reach your end before you grunt a quick 'bye' and finally end the call. By the time Alex arrives in your apartment, (also known as her breaking and entering because you forgot to tell her you've changed locks and hadn't given her a new key yet.) You've gotten yourself dolled up in a new maroon cocktail dress you found while thrifting a few weeks back, wearing it for the second time around. Alex did your makeup since she insisted she wanted to try a new eyeshadow hack she saw off of TikTok and you styled your hair.

As you two are about to leave, she stops you from putting on your black ballet flats and pulls you back to the vanity.

"One last thing." She says to you before she lines your lips with a crimson lip liner and then filling it in with a red lipstick you had lying around. She turns you around fixing your gold heart necklace so that the clasp would be hidden in the back. You turn back around to face yourself in the mirror, checking yourself out. "Now you're ready." Alex grinned. "That way you're less inclined to smoke because I spent a good 10 minutes on your lips!"

You snort as you throw on your deep brown leather jacket. "Let's see about that."

Within an hour the both of you are out the door, you had the radio on full blast with the pair of you screaming the lyrics to Love by Keyshia Cole. The roof of Alex's silver convertible had been down, allowing the crisp dusk air to billow through your tresses as you sped through the otherwise empty streets save for the few cars that hung back and watched as you two zoomed past them, eventually stopping at the closed off avenue where the race was located. It took Alexandra 20 minutes to parallel park (with you cheerfully taking a video of your best friend visibly struggling and in dire need of help to send to your brother.)

Once she has surmounted such a great feat you two were off to find your brother who, funnily enough, chanced upon you first.

Charles takes off his amber tinted sunglasses, donning his signature baggy jeans that flopped as he waltzed towards the pair of you. "do my eyes deceive me or is my baby sister finally at a race???"

You smirk as you entrap him in a fleeting hug. "No this is Papa, I've come to take you with me."

Charles harshly pokes your side making you recoil. "Agh Putain! " You hissed, clutching your left rib as you scowl at your older brother.

"I see you haven't outgrown your foul-mouthed tendencies." Charles mused, boxing his arms in front of his chest.

You raised a quizzical brow as Alexandra giggled loudly beside you. "You do know who I grew up with, right?"

"It's great to have you here, Chou." Charles beamed fondly at you, causing the ends of your lips to curl upwards into a smile, a sudden wave of melancholy overcoming you. "Can't believe it's been this long since you've watched me race."

"Me too." You replied, returning his smile. "I'm excited to see if you still like to shred the side of your car against the sides of the track like when you were 14."

The tip of Charles' ears turn crimson at the sound of Alex's tinkly giggles. "You're never letting me live that down are you?" You giggle loudly as you shook your head at him.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay, look, I'm in the lineup for the next race. If they'd known I left my car minutes before I'm set to compete I'm toast."

You rolled your eyes. "Alors dépêches toi, I'll see you later." Hurry up then.

He began to retreat towards the starting line. "Watch me win that fat stack of cash, and once I do I'll take you out for ice cream." He assured you oh so confidently in the true Leclerc fashion, pointing at your face.

"You better, or I'm cracking your head open on the asphalt like an egg." You call after him, watching as he danced his way through the crowd. "We'll see about that." You caught wind of him saying causing you and Alex to burst out into a fit of giggles, which were promptly drowned out by the arrival of two cars that had presumably been racing since before you got here. The crowd's thunderous cheering and whistling made you wince as Alex started whooping along with glee.

The drivers each exit their cars slamming their doors rather harshly. You stood silently as you watch one of them shove the other one in the chest causing him to stumble backwards and collide with his car, a Honda S2000. The cheers drastically begin to fall in a decrescendo when the crowd notices they start to get into a heated argument, from your vantage point one of the men with features so sharp it could cut diamonds seemed like he was berating his opponent that looked defensive, with his eyebrows furrowed as they exchanged sides.

One of your brother's friends, Pierre, who helped organise street races like these quickly intervened and told them to walk it off, dismissing the crowd who had just began to cheer for a fight telling them that if they were here for one they should take their business elsewhere.

"Yeesh," Alex makes a face as your eyes trail after one of the men. "There he goes again, all dark and broody."

"You know him or something?" You wonder, turning to Alex.

Alex looks at you. "He and Charles are leading in wins, his name's Carlos." She tells you, you turn your head to the direction he previously was in to find that he was gone.

Your eyebrows thread. "Sounds like you can't trust him with your drink."

Alex snorts. "With your ex-girlfriends either, once he learns you and your girlfriend have broken up he swoops right in and sleeps with her."

"That sounds a little dramatic." You say, giving him the benefit of the doubt. Alex gives you a pointed look as she places her hands atop your shoulders. "Chérie, trust me. I know you, you do not wanna get mixed up with that guy."

Your eyes widen, as you look at her almost scandalised. "What are you talking about???"

"I'm just saying!" She laughed, shrugging. "Just- be careful."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at your friend and instead you give her a comforting smile. "Fine, I'll steer clear of him. I promise." You assure her.

As the minutes ticked on and your brother, who was seated in his custom Ferrari 360 modena had sped off into the distance with his opponents, you had covertly slipped away whilst Alex had began mingling with the other racers' girlfriends (she was too scared to leave you alone but you insisted you'd be fine.) to light one up.

Walking off to a secluded part of the track, you take out your cigarettes and lighter from the pocket within your jacket. After a series of attempts of igniting your lighter and to no avail, you grew irritated.

"Allez... allez allume. Come on you stupid little thing." You mutter, obstructed by the cigarette trapped in between your lips. Come on... come on light up.

"No use in forcing it if its that stubborn." Your eyes traverse from your lighter and towards the voice, a man's voice. Your heart so traitorously skipped a beat as you laid your eyes on him, approaching you as he takes his cigarette away from his plump lips. "Have mine." He tells you.

Clad in a shiny leather jacket, a white shirt, and deep blue jeans, he takes out his lighter from his front pocket and ignites it before your very eyes. The blistering amber flame danced as the wind dared to put it out which otherwise gave life to his eyes. In which you thought were dark fathomless pits of naught were apparently balmy and tantalising, doe-like and pleasant. "Do you mind if I join you?" He wonders.

"No not at all." You answered, lips still pinching that cigarette together. He laughed a little, making you grin out of awkwardness.

This was the same man you were warned to avoid and yet pleasant was the word that came to mind when you thought of his eyes that soon meet yours, and you didn't quite find it in yourself to pull away.

Only when you heard the familiar sizzle of your cigarette coming to life was when you take a hit and then promptly pulled it away from your lips.

You exhaled a cloud of smoke, a foul, gaseous barrier that stood in between the two of you. "Honestly I could've done it myself." You refuted, avoiding his eyes. You didn't want to fall victim to the ironclad grip of his warm gaze like you so foolishly allowed yourself to succumb to before.

He chuckles in a low baritone. "What can I say? My mother raised a gentleman." He replies in his sultry Spanish accent that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Oh pull yourself together, he's just a man.

You hummed at him, clearly amused. "A gentleman sure, but not a very good sportsman."

He grinned at you. "I take it you saw that little spat earlier, no?"

Your finally look at him once more. "Me? Everybody did. You looked like you were about to choke him until his eyeballs pop outta their sockets."

He chuckles at that, a sound that made your smile widen, even if it was just a tad. "He was being too aggressive during the lap, drove right into me from behind. Like uhh, the bumper cars." He recalls, snapping his fingers gleefully. "Almost had me flying."

"You still won though." You postulate, paying close attention to his reaction. Through the darkness you saw a light blush spread across his sun-kissed cheeks as he brought his cigarette towards his lips. "Why, are you glad I did?"

A scoff left your lips as you shook your head, the ends of your lips curlong upwards a tad to form some semblance of a smile before you stopped it from growing wider. "Don't get ahead of yourself."

This gets a chuckle out of him, glancing over at you. "My mistake I guess."

You rolled your eyes, before they carefully combed through the area to see if Alex had chanced upon you and caught you fraternising with your brother's competitor. Oh the absolute horror. "Oh poor you, I bet everytime you do donuts you're convinced it'd get all the girls to drop their panties for you."

Carlos blinked. "I wouldn't know myself," He juts his right shoulder upwards before taking yet another hit of his cigarette. "D'you wanna test that theory?" He asks you, smoke leaving his mouth and nostrils like a dragon.

"Oh you're a real treat aren't you?" You feigned a smile.

"Just about." He replied, cheekily grinning at you.

You furrow your brows at him. "Funny." You said. "Don't push your luck, connard." Jerk. You cussed as you shook your head. Finally, the sad baby cow eyes effect were wearing off, you thought. But then again, this was a street racer you were talking to. Even your brother had his questionable moments at times.

"Ahh, tough luck I guess. Usually the French love me." You hear him say as you checked the time on the dainty watch that once belonged to your Maman's wrapped around your wrist.

"Thank God I'm Monegasque then." You humored, causing him to raise an eyebrow and nod, almost piecing something together. You drop your cigarette to the ground, mercilessly crushing it up beneath your ballerina flats. "I guess I'll see you around?" You ask him politely, a light drawl hanging off your tone, but he offers you a polite smile in return.

"Can I expect you to come to another race soon?" He wondered as you slowly retreated back to where Alexandra had left you. It made you think all of a sudden.

"Don't hold your breath." You answered him.

He makes a face. "I don't have a lot of things to hope on."

You rolled your eyes playfully as you took a few slow steps backwards. "Dosen't sound like my problem." Carlos grinned at you as you pivot on your heel and walked off trying to suppress a grin, hands inside your jacket pockets as you quickly made it back to find Alexandra. Only for her to find you first.

"Where have you been?" She asks you, grabbing your shoulder and turning you around swiftly. "I was looking everywhere for you! Cha finished first you know, he's competing against the previous race winners right now. We were wondering where you ran off to!" Alexandra exclaimed.

"I was just walking around, doing some people watching. The usual." You lied casually, causing her to make a face at you.

"That dosen't explain why you smell like cigarettes again." She says, causing you to grimace inwardly. You forgot to shove some mints in your purse before leaving your apartment. Usually chucking a couple of them into your mouth would help cover your tracks, but your carelessness has bitten you in the ass once more.

"It's a street race Alex, it's bound to get a little dusty." You tell her laughing. "You dont get to talk either, you smell like you bathed in a vat of lychee martinis when you left."

She hummed, crossing her hands over her chest. "Touché"

You look back at her, sporting a victorious little grin one to which she rolled her eyes that faded oh so quickly when someone from behind you suddenly made you stumble forward, you were about to cuss them off when the infamous red and blue lights of police cars drew nearer and nearer alongside the blaring sirens.

"Holy shit." Alexandra gasped as she took a hold of your hand while everybody started bolting the other way like disturbed garden bugs once residing underneath an overturned rock.

"Jesus Christ-" You said before you began squeezing yourself into the distressed crowd. People were ramming into the pair of you from different directions as you tried to make your escape, you hear the police officers making arrests in the far off distance as you continued to fight your way through the throngs of people. Only when you finally ran off to where you had smoked a cigarette prior to the arrival of the police had you realized Alex hadn't followed you out like you so foolishly hoped she did.

The churning in your stomach only worsens when you hear more police cars arrive on the scene. "ALEX?! Jesus Christ- ALEX???" You yelled, trying to find her amidst the sea of people running for their lives, quite literally. "ALEX?!? ALEX WHERE ARE YOU?!?"

You unceremoniously jumped out of your skin when you hear a car pull up behind you causing you to gear up to try and run away, that was until the shotgun window rolled down and there was Carlos strapped in the driver's seat. "Get in!"

You were apalled. "I- I can't find my friend! I don't know where she is!" You shout back.

"Less likely of a chance you'll be able to find her when you're behind bars, come on!" The man insisted with a caring sense of urgency in his eyes.

Your frown deepened as you looked behind you, the sirens were starting to sound nearer. "Carlos I have to find her!" You say, turning back to look at him.

You saw a bulge form on his temple as his fingers flexed around the leather of his steering wheel. "I'll help you find her after the heat dies down, but please do yourself a favor and get in the car!" Carlos yelled before you open the door to the shot gun half-heartedly. You threw yourself inside and before you could even close the door he zoomed off. It felt like you had been suctioned onto the back of the seat as you were sure Carlos had floored it. You turn to look at him, only now you realize how dry your mouth felt, how your tongue felt foreign and rough like sand paper. "Thank you... for that."

"Don't mention it." He replied, dancing past the other cars that ran the speed limit as he drove the pair of you into the highway.

"You're right your ego'll inflate so much to the point it'll slow us down." You equipped, trying to ease the situation a little.

Even Carlos' hard exterior crumbles at that as you hear him chuckle. "Are you always this sweet to people who save your ass?"

"Usually, why?" You replied looking at him who shrugged, smiling ever so slightly. "Can't blame a guy for being curious."

That gets a little chuckle out of you which was promptly interjected by the sounds of sirens coming from behind you. You whip your head around to see at least 3- no, 4 police cars making their way through the traffic behind you. You turn to Carlos, mouth parted to warn him but it seems that he was a step ahead of you was the car went faster.

"They're right on us Carlos." You tell him, trying your hardest to keep your breakfast down as he deliberately ran a red light, causing a collision on the intersection, the car narrowly missing it.

"You doing okay? You don't sound like it." He asks you, taking a few seconds to look at you before they are back on the road as you force yourself to nod.

"Mm-hm, I just love the way car-chases make my knees weak."

"You sure it's the car and not me, hermosa?" He asks you mischievously. You giggled loudly at that. You're not a school-girl get it together. "Shut up, it almost sounds like you want us to get arrested."

He shrugged, smiling a shrewd smile. "Hey, it would be a killer story to relive and laugh about over some dinner sometime."

You glare at him and even in the dark you can see the distinct mischievous glint in his brown eyes. "Did you really just ask me out on a date? Now? While we're this close to being incarcerated???" You interrogate him loudly.

"If we get outta this alive and unscathed? I mean... it couldn't be the worst thing, no?"

You guffawed at his statement turning to him as he sped through yet another red light. "Yes it would, it seems like the only viable option for me now is to jump outta the car and surrender myself to the police."

He laughs boisterously at that. "Dios Mío, you're so mean!" Carlos exclaimed, sporting a boyish smile with his brows furrowed that made your heart do a somersault. "Speaking of police... I think we've lost them." He announces, switching his gaze from his riverview mirror to his sidemirror, with a victorious grin.

"Really??? Jesus Christ that was," you stopped to chuckle in disbelief, wiping the sweat of of your temples. "Exhilirating." You finish, finally landing on a word.

"Eh, same old, same old." Carlos sang dismissively, his face causing you to giggle. "When you've managed to accidentally rob a liquor store at 15 with your friends before school only for you to crash your dad's car into the river and have it blow up in flames all while avoiding being caught by the police, nothing surprises you anymore."

You snort. "How do you accidentally rob a liquor store?"

"Too long a story, I won't bother you with such details." He answers you, drawing a line with the air using his hand. "But the bottom line is that I'm never going to try and see how many bottles of cerveza fit inside my dad's military grade duffel bag."

You sucked in air through your teeth, shaking your head amusedly. "Christ, that behavior warrants you into being the favorite then, dosen't it?"

He hummed at you delightfully. "Look at that, we've only met tonight and yet it seems like I've known you forever." Carlos mused with a genuine smile on his face. "How do you do it?"

"Easy, I was the favorite growing up too." You replied. "Like calls to like after all."

"You're the oldest daughter followed by boys aren't you?"

"No, I was the one that followed boys, 3 of them. After years and years of trying Maman and Papa finally got the daughter they so desperately wished to have." You say, with a distant smile.

"Wow, I'm not good at this." Carlos replied dismally, raking a hand over his face with dread causing you to laugh at him again. "Hats off to them then, their daughter's pretty special."

"If I ever meet your parents I'd say the exact same thing." You replied.

He looks at you teasingly. "No you wouldn't."

"No, I wouldn't." You laughed, causing him to laugh too.

The night further blurred after that, to the point that even now several hours later you couldn't exactly pinpoint where you and Carlos have gone after you exited the highway, what you have done, what you have said.

Based off of the egregious headache you were nursing, a wadded up paper bag of chic-fil-a on the chair beside you, and a familiar soreness emanating through your limbs you finally pieced everything together.

Of course, the second you came home to your apartment a call from Charles lit up your phone screen. As much as you wanted to let your phone ring into oblivion, you begrudgingly answered his call.

"vous plaisantez j'espère? c'est la millionième fois que je t'appelle et pourtant tu ne réponds que maintenant à ton téléphone?" Charles practically bellowed the second your call came through. You try not to roll your eyes in front of him. are you kidding me? this is the millionth time i've called you and yet you only answer your phone now?

"laisse-moi mettre fin à l'appel alors, essayons d'atteindre cent millions." You bounced back, pausing your show to divert your full attention to your distressed brother who had probably not even slept a wink since last night... well, earlier this morning. let me end the call then, let's try and reach a hundred million.

"quel ennui tu es! je n'ai pas dormi du tout depuis que tu as décidé de disparaître après la course et de ne pas me dire, ni à Arthur, ni à Enzo, ni même à Alex où tu étais allé!" Charles reasoned loudly making you flinch at the volume of his voice, having to calibrate your own volume settings so your head dosen't explode. what a pain you are! i havent slept at all since you decided you'd disappear after the race and not tell me, or Arthur, or Enzo or even Alex where you'd gone!

"Chill the fuck out will you? I've arrived in my apartment in one piece. I haven't been taken by the police, I don't have any injuries. Je vais parfairtement bien." I'm perfectly fine. You managed, massaging your temple off camera.

"Where were you?" Charles asks you now. "And where did your necklace go? That used to be Mamans."

"I took it off, Jesus." You lied quickly. In truth, you didn't know where the hell it was, but you decided to lie to not make the conversation last any longer than it should. "And I was off with someone- I don't- Why do I have to tell you these things? I'm as old as Arthur aren't I? I don't see you grilling him when he comes home late, in fact your fucking praise him for it!" You defend, finding it in yourself to finally raise your voice at you brother. Who scratched his head in frustration.

Charles remains silent for a second before he opens his mouth. "Fine... Fine! je ne te forcerai pas." I wont force it out of you. Charles exclaimed, ultimately giving in.

You fiddle with the remote in silence before you look back at him, bristling on your spot in the couch. "For what it's worth Cha, I'm sorry I made you worry so much. That was insensitive of me."

His face softens a little when he laughs through his nose. "Whatever, whatever. Truce." He mused, trying to sound all irritated when in fact he was not, causing you to giggle. "Don't pull shit like that the next time you come to my races, putain. I can see why Maman was so eager to let you move out."

You scowled. "you're goddamn insane if you really think i'm going to another race."

"See you Chou, take care." Says Charles, sporting a grin you were relieved to see back on his face. You rolled your eyes at him endearingly. "See you soon, Cha." You then end the call.

When you were about to put your phone down to continue watching the show you had paused, you receive a text message from an unknown number. You decide to view it so you could delete it and not have it take space in your phone storage but forgot about all of that when you finally read the message.

[sebastianswallows]

Nobody's Darling — 2. The Motel

— PAIRING: Benny Cross x F!Reader — SYNOPSIS: Benny comes across a girl walking alone in the middle of nowhere and offers her a ride to the nearest town. They stop at a motel. — WARNINGS: angst, a hint of smut (masturbation) — WORDCOUNT: 3k — A/N: Continuation of Part 1. After a couple of weeks I could finally work on this again! The story continues. I hope you enjoy it, my loves 😘

She wasn’t sure what she expected before she stepped inside. There were tables and dartboards, a pair of old jukeboxes, and a long bar all along the left side of the room. A few people were playing pool and a few more sat drinking, all wallowing in days-old sweat under the pale light. She almost stepped back out at the sight of all of this but he stood behind her. He eased her in with a hand around her waist.

“It’s ok,” he mumbled with the shadow of a smile. “Nobody’s gonna hurt ya.”

He led her in keeping his hand around her all the while. She scowled up at him, at his familiarity, but soon realised this was probably his way of making sure nobody else would touch her.

“Take a seat anywhere you’d like,” he softly said.

She took the table furthest from anybody else and hugged her purse tightly to her chest. Everyone else looked at them until, almost in unison, they stopped and went back to whatever they’d been doing.

“What do they have to eat around here?” she asked as he sat opposite from her.

“Burgers. Beer.”

“That’s it?”

He pulled his pack out and offered her a cigarette.

“No thank you…”

“They got peanuts at the bar, I guess.”

“Right,” she said with a scrunched nose. “So, where’s the bathrooms?”

He stared at her in silence as he lit another smoke.

“Well, I’d like to at least wash my hands before I eat…” In truth, she felt filthy head to toe after the night she’d had.

He braced his arms on the table and took a deep drag, then turned his head to gaze across the room. It gave her the chance to look at him in better lighting. He was deceptively young but aged around the edges — from the drinking and the smoking and a rough life in the wind. Every slip of softness was threaded through with something harsh. His lips were pillows surrounded by the blond bristles of a beard, his eyes were icy cold, fanned by thick long lashes, and although his hands were callused and beringed and heavy he held that cigarette as gently as if it were a lover’s dainty finger.

“In the back,” he muttered through a puff of smoke.

“What?”

“Ladies’ room.”

“Oh. Alright. I’ll, erm, be right back.”

And just as she got up he added with a smile,

“If there’s no soap left, try the men’s.”

She left him not thinking that she would ever do that, but she did. The ladies’ bathroom was well-used to the point she had to hop around to avoid dubious puddles. The men’s room was no better except they never seemed to use the soap. She dipped in and out of it as if the door could bite her.

By the time she returned to their table, he had already ordered and was chugging down his beer waiting for her. His eyes didn’t leave her as she sat down and started to inspect the meal.

“Is this it?” she asked with a curl of her nose.

The plate was chipped, the bun was shiny with grease, the pickles underneath were slathered in ketchup, and she didn’t have the courage to look further than that. He nursed on the bottle and hid a shy smile around the rim.

“I could ask them to get you somethin’ else.”

“You said they didn’t have anything else.”

He shrugged. “They could make it.”

“At this hour? The chef’s likely to —”

“They ain’t got a chef,” he shrugged. “Old guy, think his name’s… Tex. He tends the bar and the kitchen out back.”

“Yeah… All the more reason to stick with this,” she muttered to herself.

He chuckled and snuffed out the cigarette, and then his sooty hands grabbed hold of the burger, its insides dripping lazily onto the plate. She looked at him, and picked hers up, but immediately decided she’d rather try the beer first.

It was surprisingly decent, not too strong, flavourful… She drank until it sated her thirst and her throat was no longer burning. By the time the bottle was half-empty, the burger didn’t even seem so horrible anymore.

“What’s your name?” she asked with a sigh.

The boy raised his pale gaze to hers and slowed down his chewing. He seemed surprised that she had asked at all.

“Benny.”

“Benny,” she smiled. “Ben. Benjamin?”

He put the messy burger down and took another swig, looking at her over the edge of the dark bottle. “Just Benny.”

“I see…”

“How ‘bout you?”

She introduced herself but after that, the conversation settled into silence. They kept eating and drinking while the chime of the balls at the pool table filled the emptiness around them. She felt awkward sitting opposite him, trying to be polite, pretending that she didn’t quietly judge everything about him in spite of her friendly tone. Benny seemed to sense it. Did he just not like her asking about his name? She thought “Benjamin” to be quite dignified and she regretted not getting to tell him. But then again, perhaps he wouldn’t like that…

Or perhaps he didn’t like her staring at him. At his grimy hands holding those buns even as they seemed ready to fall apart, at how he held the bottle by its thin delicate neck, at his lips, his lidded eyes, the way his throat flexed as he swallowed. Soon she found herself quite uncomfortable and not because of the awkward silence anymore. He looked up when he was done, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and although she looked away he seemed to pause in thought at the sight of her. His chair scratched lightly across the floor as he leaned back to finish off his beer.

“It’s just oil and dirt,” he said with an awkward smile as he crossed his arms over his chest and started smoking “Ain’t gonna hurt me.”

“You’re probably sick of me, aren’t you?” she smiled. “You’d rather be over there at the bar, or playing pool.”

Benny’s arm tightened around himself and she tried not to stare at how nicely those muscles flexed. “And you’d rather be at home,” he said in a quiet rasp. “Takin’ a hot shower. Layin’ in a nice clean bed.”

She leaned back as well, her hand already reaching for the beer again. There was no meanness in his voice but she still felt guilty for wanting something better than… what his life seemed to be.

“So what were you doin’ out there?” he asked as he wiped the corner of his lips.

“I, er, got lost.”

He looked at her in that quiet way of his she’d already gotten used to.

“I fell asleep on my bus ride home,” she finally confessed, smiling sheepishly.

That got a chuckle out of Benny. “How long were you walkin’ for?”

“About an hour.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.”

“You look it.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Hey, you still look nice.”

“T-thanks…”

She twisted the bottle between her fingers as she cast her gaze across the bar, at the slowly rolling smoke and swaying patrons getting drunker. And from the corner of her eye, she could see Benny staring with those sad blue eyes, hunched over, lips pouting while the cigarette slowly burnt away, and there was such a pleading in the way he looked at her that she wanted against her better judgment to just go ahead, invite him home, and ask him to stay… But she knew better than to get involved with a troublemaker in a motorcycle club, even one that drove her back to town, even one whose voice was soft and tender.

“You said they had rooms?” she said after a while.

He nodded.

“Who — I mean, where do I —”

“Come on,” he said as he got up. “I’ll show you.”

“What about dinner?”

“What about it?”

“Should I just leave some money on the table or —”

“Don’t worry ‘bout that,” he smiled. “Tex owes me me.”

She somehow doubted it but before she could say anything Benny had gone around the bar, taken two keys from a shelf behind a canopy of glasses, and was on his way up the stairs. She wondered if this was his way of getting away from her for the night. Perhaps by morning he’d be gone, leaving her there to figure things out for herself.

The floors felt rickety and noises from the bar followed them however far they went. In a symphony of creaking and chirps from the cicadas outside Benny led her to a room at the end of the corridor on the second floor. A lone lightbulb came on to bathe the room a sickly yellow, cramped with a veneer of stains and spots and each surface looking a bit uneven. The mattress on the bed looked a bit caved in. The door to the bathroom was ajar and crooked. The little square window by the door was black with soot.

“Right, so, er… You good for tonight?” Benny asked, his face turned to her in worry.

“Oh, yes. I’m sure it’s fine,” she said and took a cautious step inside. “Thank you.”

He didn’t seem convinced and his frown turned a little sad. It made her feel bad for seeming so ungrateful.

“Beats walking in the wilderness at night,” she added with a smile.

“High praise,” he chuckled. “Water runs alright. There’ll be towels in that drawer there. It’s… Well, g’night,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. Just as he turned to leave he added, “If you need somethin’, I’ll be in room 5 just up the hall.”

“Alright,” she said as she wrapped her arms around herself. “Good night…”

And with one great stride, the lean tall shape of him was gone, closing the door after him.

She knew she couldn’t expect the kind of cleanliness she had at home but it was still uncomfortable to navigate this temporary bedroom. She put her suit up nicely on a wooden chair to be ready for tomorrow morning and laid out her stockings nearby. There were no slippers anywhere so she walked with her beaten dusty shoes into the bathroom and managed to clean herself up a bit before bed. Every surface seemed dubious to her, but Benny had been right that the water ran well. There was soap and towels too, and even if she could hardly call it a shower she managed to make do.

“I can’t wait to go home,” she whispered to herself on the verge of tears.

After checking twice that the door was properly locked, she laid down on the bed still in her slip. The pillows were thin and the springs of the mattress were noisy, but she curled up and made her best attempt to fall asleep.

Every now and then the popping sound of balls hitting each other at the pool table would reach her, and in between that the singing of crickets and the buzzing of flies filled the air. She tossed and she turned, breathing in the unwashed scent of musky pillows, rotting wood, old cigarette smoke and ashes… And even though she was exhausted and full after her greasy meal, she just couldn’t fall asleep. It wasn’t the pain in her back and shoulders, it wasn’t her feet aching from the walk, it wasn’t even how dirty she still felt or the fear that any moment one of those drunken men from downstairs would try to sneak in and rob her — or worse. She turned from side to side feeling at odds with herself.

This wasn’t the kind of bar she went to and it wasn’t the kind of place she spent the night. And Benny… Well, Benny wasn’t exactly the kind of guy she went for — but why was she thinking like that? He was only supposed to give her a ride home. That is if he didn’t just leave her there. He’d be entitled to, after how coldly she’d treated him all night. He’d bought her dinner, he’d gotten her that room, and still she couldn’t get over the fact that he was in her eyes a vagabond. A vandal, as said his jacket.

“I just have to make it through the night,” she told herself. “I wouldn’t even have to see him again tomorrow. I’ll wake up early and… and… he might not even still be around.”

She rolled onto her back and stretched with nervous energy, her arms covering her face. The thought of not seeing him again drove her strangely restless. Something about that boy made her want to touch him gently. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair, to look into his eyes for hours, to hold him and be held... Yes, he wasn’t her kind of guy, but underneath that cold hard leather and the denim and the dirt, she had seen a trace of sweetness, innocence, and hurt. And before she knew it she’d pulled the pillow down before her, tucked it between her legs, wrapped her arms around it, and held its tattered end to her neck as if it were somebody’s face. It comforted her just a little, made her feel less alone — like she’d felt when she held onto him on the back of his bike.

Her eyes opened in the dark, her own thoughts shocking her, but she had enough courage to admit that it was true. Sure enough, as soon as she stepped foot inside that ugly bar or laid down in that bed she only wanted to go home — but in the dark her deepest thoughts turned to how lonely, how harsh, how empty her life was... She’d never thought she struggled with living all alone, not until she’d wrapped her arms around Benny and he drove her through the night. She’d been afraid to hold onto him at first but by the end of their ride, she didn’t want to let him go. And now her arms felt empty and her head felt full and whichever side of the bed she turned on wasn’t right because nobody else was there.

With a sigh, she pushed the useless pillow away and sat up on the side of the bed. The cold floor soothed her feet but there was an itch inside of her, a restlessness that would not be assuaged by anything less than the real thing.

“You’re crazy,” she mumbled to herself. “I shouldn’t. I really, really shouldn’t…”

But she did. She got up, put her shoes back on, and wrapped the blanket around herself like a shawl. And before her mind could catch up with her body she was out the door.

The sounds were softer than before, more stilted, less precarious, and the noises from the distant bar had dimmed together with the light. Blackbirds were singing in the trees that swung beside the balustrade. The moon was dim and fogged with shallowed clouds but if she focused she could see the numbers on the door. When she finally reached room 5, she paused. What if he was sleeping? What if he wasn’t there? What if took this the wrong way? And most terrifying of all was — what if he wouldn’t care?

Her hand was poised to knock but stopped just short of it. No light was coming from inside but there was tension in the air as if the silence was still filled with something. It had a deliberate quality to it that made her hair stand on end and nearly scared her back to her room. It’s him that I’m afraid of, she thought to herself. What he would think of me. What he would say… But she refused to let herself feel that way and be scared of him again after she’d just gotten over it earlier that evening. He’s just a boy. A stupid, dirty little boy with blue eyes and long lashes…

Her fist tightened but she still didn’t dare to knock. And as she stood there caught between her fear and longing, something called to her from the other side. It was a stilted sound, almost a voice, but not quite something wakeful. He must’ve been asleep… Rather than knock and risk waking him up she chanced turning the handle and to her surprise the door gave way. Of course he’d sleep with it unlocked…

If he’s not awake I’ll go back to my room, she thought. I’ll let him rest. I’ll —

She opened the door enough to peek inside. It was dark but she could still make out something. Benny was on the bed. That’s where the sounds were coming from — quick breaths, low moans, and a sticky wet sound on repeat. A slow and languorous melange that made her body warm. There was a rounded sheen of muscle that moved in the shadows and each tug was coloured by a whimper vulnerable and loud.

She gasped quietly, mouth agape, and just then a bike rolled by outside. Its rumble drowned him out and its lights shone past her into the room to give her just a glimpse of Benny. He was lying in bed propped up against the pillow, messy head leaned back, full lips parted, lidded eyes. The jacket must’ve been somewhere else because he was left in a white tank top that strained against his chest. He was still wearing those dirty jeans but they were bunched low on his hips, and his hand was closed in a fist around —

He stopped moving.

“I-is that you?” he rasped.

The light from the bike outside was gone but she could feel his gaze on her, could hear in his strangled voice a weak, frail shiver, so at odds with how carefree he’d been.

“Yes?” she wanted to say but all that came out was a choked whisper.

“Come inside…”

[askskyyoung]

Sky delicately flipped another page, smoothing the paper with her fingertips as she continued reading. This tome was unimaginably old.

The leather had become brittle, and some of the threads and bindings of the spine were showing through. In its prime, it had been read and studied, a testament to the knowledge it held. But now, years of never seeing the light of day had left it stiff and crippled. The pages smelled of damp decay, the edges frayed and soft, a poignant reminder of its age and fragility.

Sky was almost reluctant to turn the next page. Her journal was open and used as she continued scribbling down notes.

The book had been vague thus far. Describing runes as harmonious. Natural. The Hextech runes Jayce and Viktor used were a written language, while wild runes were a body language. Both could communicate the same concepts, but it simply came down to one's ability to understand them.

Hence the hope that this tome would offer an answer about this Inspiration Rune. Was it perhaps a wild rune?

Sky slid her tired gaze to her journal and scribbled down the question underlining it while drawing an arrow to 'inspiration rune'.

She flipped to the next page and furrowed her brow, her fingers lifted away from the page.

The scene depicted before her spread across both pages sent a chill down her spine. This tome was not for research purposes.

It was a warning.

The door to her office suddenly unlocked and opened, causing her to jump out of her chair and squeak a terrified sound. She closed the book with a heavy, curt thud and smiled.

A cleaning cart and an older lady walked into her office. "Oh! Miss Young, I didn't expect you to be here at such an hour! Do you want me to come back?"

Sky shook her head rapidly. "No! No! It's alright, Leti, I was just...I was just leaving. Packing up, Yeah. Yeah! It's alright. Jeez, what time is it? I lost track of time so easily." Her nerves made her hands shake as she gathered all her papers and books, stuffing them into the crook of her elbow.

The older woman looked at her in worry. "Just past midnight, Miss Young. Are you alright?"

Sky shuffled past the woman, waving her off. "Yes! Just, innovation never rests and all! Thank you for all you do, bye!" She hurriedly walked out of her office down the cold, mutely lit hallway. She hugged her journal, papers, and the now too-heavy book to her chest. Her throat felt closed off. Her heart raced. Her pulse thundered in her ears.

What if they tried the line between what should and shouldn't be done? What if Professor Heimerdinger was right? What if...what if this shouldn't be done?

A warning.

The image of destruction, death, and misery depicted in the tome burned in her memory.

The Hexcore had been an ever-shifting entity creating its own development and hypothetical sentience. It unnerved her. It glowed and pulsed eerily. It sent shivers down her spine, and she never knew why. The ominous way it spun and shifted more slowly than before. Calculative.  

Perhaps it was the way Viktor had become all too hungry as of late, pushing himself for a breakthrough that would-

Maybe it was how he seemed consumed by that...that thing. Never mind it being a pinnacle of research and advancement, the Hexcore must be destroyed. If this tome was true, if it truly recalled the events of a past instance of trying to harness arcanal power artificially, she had to tell someone. Viktor.

She had to.

Her feet automatically took her to the lab, her subconscious mind unlocking the door. She knew more than likely Viktor would have stayed at the lab. Nowadays, he slept here more than at his home.

Another chill ran down her spine, seeing that the lab wasn't lit with lanterns or overhead lamps but the slow pulsing and spinning pulse of the Hexcore itself. Corrupted webbing made broken, violaceous light flicker across the large space of the lab.

She approached her friend carefully. "Viktor?" She called out to him uneasily. "Can...Can we talk?" And before he could brush her off with an excuse of being too busy or involved with his current fixation, she hurriedly added: "It's important. About the Inspiration Rune," knowing it would catch his attention.

@askviktor

[saiintvalentiine]

walking into ur asks like i just escaped a natural disaster (parrotx2 video) and asking for kww in farming district angst or hurt/comfort 🙏🙏

ok i dont know why this is where my mind went for this??? i hope its. alright. set right after parrot leaves kww for the capture the flag game.

Word count: 456

“He's the worst,” Ken says, leaning back in his seat. “Is he always like this?”

“Yes,” Wifies says, rubbing his face. He cycles through the motions over and over. “Probably a bit worse than usual but yes.”

“And you like this guy?” Ken scoffs. “I did not drag you ass first out of that bedrock box just for you to have horrible taste in men.”

“I don't even know why you did it in the first place at this point.”

“Okay, wow, no, do not say that,” Ken says, sitting up. “Don't say that.”

Wato sits on the table ahead of Wifies, kicking at his seat lightly. Wifies drops his hands and looks at them, eyes stinging.

“You know that wasn't okay, right?” Wato asks.

“Yeah, sorry, it just kind of came out of my mouth without thinking,” Wifies stands up and tries to shake the malaise off.

“Hey, no, not that,” Wato grabs Wifies's arm. “Parrot.”

“Yeah, he's the worst,” Wifies rolls his eyes. “I know. I get it. I make bad choices.”

Wato and Ken glance at each other.

“Wifies,” Ken stands up too, closing in on his other side. “He's like. . . a walking red flag right now. You tried to defend him and he was a huge bitch about it.”

“I guess nobody did ask me,” but something hard lines those words, thick shelled and old.

“Wifies!” Wato snaps. “What are you saying? Who cares if nobody asked? You're a third of all decisions made here, you're always supposed to be here giving your opinion.”

“And who cares if Parrot didn't ask?” Ken continues. “I want to know anyway.”

“So do I.”

“That's gotta count for something, doesn't it?”

Wifies closes his eyes and breathes. His chest feels spiderwebbed, a hundred small threads spun together into delicate shape.

“It does. I'm sorry.”

“That damn bird,” Ken mutters under his breath.

Wato tugs Wifies over and bumps their turtle shelled head against Wifies's own.

“Unfortunately, he has a point with the whole beating them at their own game thing.”

“Do you actually agree with him, or do you just want his approval?” Ken asks, watching as Wifies tenses up.

“I actually agree.”

“If we win, it'd be really funny to drag the Warriors faces in the mud with our victory,” Wato says, bumping their heads together one more time before leaning back.

“Wato, the fact you know the easy way to my heart is kind of horrible,” Ken says, clearly sold on the idea. “We gotta win though.”

“Of course we're gonna win,” Wifies says, opening his eyes and glancing over at Ken. “We're the best at beating people at their own game.”

“That's my Wifies! Let's get out there and ruin their day.”

[kybercrystals94]

Stolen Time

Read here on Ao3!

Summer of Bad Batch 2024 | Week 4 | "You really think you're going without me? Not going to happen."

Rated: G | Words: 4,213

Author’s Note: Is this idea unique? Nah. Did I write it anyway? Absolutely I did. *throws another Tech-lives fic into the fandom*

The sensation of falling is not unfamiliar; however, the sensation of helplessness, of utter resignation, of a broken heart…these catch like a sob in Tech’s throat. Mere seconds stretch into an eternity. The devastated expressions of his siblings are seared behind his eyelids when he closes his eyes. He wishes they hadn’t witnessed him fall. It will haunt them, he knows. He never wanted that for them. However, he’d rather that they live with the trauma than die trying to save him. The price of his life for theirs is one he willingly pays. 

He just hopes that the impact kills him instantaneously.

***

He breaks the surface of consciousness with a breathless gasp. When he moves to sit up, a weight on each of his shoulders holds him back. A soothing voice speaks incomprehensibly and close, warm breath on his face. Tech continues to choke down gulps of air, his lungs greedily accepting the panicked doses. 

Words begin to take shape in the voice above him, and he hears his name, spoken so softly and gently that Tech knows that the speaker loves him. But he doesn’t recognize the voice, although his mind feels thick and muddled. Perhaps he simply cannot remember. 

“Easy, Tech, you’re safe. Shhh, you’re safe.” The weight on his shoulders lifts, and a heavier weight folds around him instead. It startles him until he realizes that it is an embrace, arms threaded behind him, pulling him close. “I missed you. We missed you. It’s alright. Shhh.” 

He doesn’t understand why the voice continues to hush him, as if he is making any noise at all. And then he hears it. Feels it. Shuttering sobs, hot tears, trembling limbs. But he doesn’t understand why. 

“Where am I?” he chokes out, “Why can’t I see?” 

“Your vision will come back,” the voice says, now close to his ear, “It’s a side effect of being in stasis. You were there for a long time.” 

Stasis…

“Who are you?” Tech asks next. “Why do I know you?” 

The voice does not answer for a long time, but the embrace holding becomes impossibly tighter. The face against his neck feels wet. “Oh, Tech. It’s me…It’s Omega.” 

“Omega?” Tech’s mind cannot reconcile the little girl of his memories with the woman’s voice speaking now. 

You were there for a long time. 

Years. Lost. Gone.

I missed you. We missed you.

His sister. His brothers. 

“We’re on our way back to Pabu,” Omega says. She pulls back, the weight of her embrace gone from his chest. It leaves an ache in its absence. Before he can despair, hands wrap around his, holding fast. “I haven’t told them that I’m coming…that we’re coming. They wouldn’t believe me unless they saw you with their own eyes.”

“Hunter,” Tech gasps out. “Wrecker?” 

“And Crosshair,” Omega adds. “They’re safe.” 

A knotted pain in his chest loosens, one he hadn’t recognized was there until Omega said the name. They’d found Crosshair. They’d brought him home. This time, Tech knows why he begins to cry, and knows that it is his little sister that gently comforts him. 

***

His vision comes back as Omega said it would; however, his sight remains impaired without his goggles to assist. Omega hands the lenses over, cracked and damaged from his fall, evidently, long ago. He doesn’t put them on. They won’t do much good in their dismal state.

Glancing up at the young woman sitting next to him, Tech experiences a strange and hollow grief. “You look older,” he says. “Much older than I remember you.” 

Omega smiles. “Wait until you see our brothers,” she tells him with a wink. It is meant to be humorous, but it just sends another wave of grief. That is what Tech is afraid of, if he is honest with himself. They will have aged while he has stayed the same. Having matured with them concurrently all his life, the reality that they have carried on without him is disheartening.

“Are they happy?” Tech asks, fingers tracing lightly over the broken glass of his goggles. 

Omega considers the question carefully. “Yes, they are,” she says at last. “They weren’t happy when I joined the Rebellion, but it was a different sort of sadness, I think. I might be older and stronger and wiser, but I’ll always be the little girl from Kamino, won’t I?” Omega chuckles. “Always my little brothers’ kid sister.” 

Tech can appreciate that sentiment. He releases a huffed chuckle. 

“But how are you feeling?” Omega asks. “It must be overwhelming.”

“It is,” Tech agrees. “It does not quite seem real. Like it might be an elaborate hallucination.” 

“If it would help,” Omega says, the edge of her lips quirking into a mischievous grin, “I can pinch you.” 

Tech snorts, rolling his eyes. “That is not necessary. I only said it doesn’t quite seem real.” 

Omega shrugs. “Just putting the offer out there.” 

“You have become quite adept at flying,” Tech says, shifting the subject away from himself. He hasn’t seen more than Omega’s little vessel hurtling through hyperspace, which does not take any sort of talent; however, the comment seems to shift something in Omega’s stance. She looks proud, as though he has just paid her the highest of compliments. 

Perhaps he has. 

Omega leans back in the pilot’s seat. “I hope so. That’s kind of my job now.” 

“Indeed?” 

Omega spends the hours of hyperspace recounting to Tech everything he’s missed. While his sister is animated and entertaining in narrative, it is shared with a subtle detachment. After all, she is sharing her past, her history. He is catching up, trying to understand the circumstances which have shaped the future he has unceremoniously stepped into. 

And while he listens with rapt attention, it also breaks his heart.

***

Omega’s flying skills are fully demonstrated as they approach the familiar island on Pabu. Omega guides her ship toward the base of the island rather than the landing pad at the top. When Tech opens his mouth to ask, Omega answers before he can get a word out. “Oh, you’ll love this, Tech. Watch.” 

With the practiced ease of a veteran pilot, Omega brings them nearly to the surface of the ocean, steering the ship into the gaping mouth of a cavern, neither wings nor fin scraping any sort of stone. Deftly, she activates the landing sequence, bringing the vessel to rest on the floor of the cave.

“Where was this when the Marauder was destroyed?” Tech retorts. 

Omega sighs. “Hindsight is much clearer than foresight,” she says. “In our defense, we were trying to load the ship to flee Pabu at the time.”

Tech is fully aware; however, the sharp sting of loss is still persistent. 

“If we give them a minute, I’m sure they are on their way down from the house,” Omega says, standing and stretching, her spine and shoulders popping loudly in the now silent ship. “Hunter has a radar for incoming ships.”

Tech looks out the viewport. The cavern has been lit up with strategically placed light sources, likely activated by their arrival. The island is already dark, several hours into the night cycle, although the evening is young enough that their brothers would not have gone to bed yet. 

Omega walks back into the main hold and begins shoving items into a leather bag. Tech watches her, feeling unsure what to do with himself. He does not have anything, possession or otherwise. If Omega notices the awkwardness, she does not show it, and merely slings the strap of her bag over her shoulder before lowering the ramp. 

“And there they are,” she says softly, tossing him a grin over her shoulder before she descends the steps two at a time. 

Tech hears them, their voices familiar but strange. More conversational and emotive than he remembers them…with the exception of Wrecker, of course. He sounds exactly the same. They greet Omega cheerfully, questions about her wellbeing and health tangling over one another. Is she being careful? Has she been getting enough sleep? Enough to eat? Resting between missions? Omega patiently answers each one, and Tech can hear an indulgent smile in her voice. 

“You should have told us you were coming home,” Hunter admonishes lightly, with absolutely no heat in his tone. 

“I wanted to surprise you,” Omega says. “Because I found something…someone…and I brought him back just as soon as I could.” 

Tech knows that that is his cue. He inhales a deep breath, but it shudders weakly when he exhales. Stepping into the doorway, he finally sees his brothers. Without the benefit of his goggles, their expressions are smudged to his view, but they go completely still, frozen in place as they stare up at him. To his mind, it has only been a few short hours since he has seen them, and with Crosshair, long months.  

But to his brothers, it has been nearly a lifetime. They have mourned him, honored his memory by living as he hoped they would always be able to live: free and safe. He does not know how they will react to seeing that he is alive, preserved just as they last remembered him. A living, breathing ghost. Time has stopped once again when none of them move. Tech doesn’t know how to set the chrono ticking again.

To his relief, Omega breaks the silence. “We discovered a warehouse containing hundreds of cryo-cycle stasis pods. From the intel we’ve decrypted, it seems that Hemlock kept what he referred to as promising specimens that he thought might be useful in future projects. When Project Necromancer was shut down, the coordinates to the warehouse were lost. We recovered dozens of survivors, Tech being one of them.” 

Although Tech has already heard this news, Omega having shared the details of his rescue as soon as he was coherent enough to comprehend, he hears it anew from the perspective he might have if the roles were reversed.  

He imagines the shock alone is incomprehensible. Painful even.

“You mean he’s been alive all this time?” A voice asks, shattered with jagged edges. “We could have found him…Hemlock might’ve told us…” 

It takes Tech a moment to process that it is Crosshair speaking, his most severe and unyielding brother’s voice bloodied and raw.  

Omega shakes her head. “No. We can’t think like that,” she says firmly. “What matters is that he’s back now. We have our brother back now. Wondering what we might’ve done differently won’t change anything.” Her tone leaves no room for argument.

“I don’t remember anything after my fall on Eriadu,” Tech supplies weakly, stepping down from the ramp. “I…had no awareness until Omega found me.” 

He hopes that the knowledge is a small comfort; however, it seems to have the opposite effect. Tech desperately wishes for the lightheartedness of several minutes prior, when he was still out of view, and Omega’s presence had brought their brothers immense joy. 

But suddenly, the mood shifts again, an unruly tide determined to be unpredictable. Wrecker laughs, the sound reverberating off the uneven cavern walls, echoing back at them. He rushes forward and envelops Tech in a familiar, bone crushing embrace. It entirely dispels the air from Tech’s lungs, and he gasps for breath even as he smiles. 

“We missed you, Techie!” Wrecker tells him, lifting Tech bodily from the ground. 

Tech wheezes out, “I would say the same, but it only feels as though I took a prolonged sleep cycle.” 

“Let him breathe, Wrecker,” Omega says, but she is laughing too, the gentle chide ignored for several more moments before Tech is released to a looser hold, Wrecker’s arm still around him. 

Hunter comes forward next and puts his hands on Tech’s shoulders, dark eyes searching Tech’s face for something Tech doesn’t know. “You haven’t aged a day, have you?” his oldest brother asks. 

“Well, that is the design of the stasis pod,” Tech tells him. 

Hunter laughs and pulls Tech close, his embrace nearly rivaling Wrecker’s in its intensity. “And you haven’t changed at all, my brilliant little brother,” he says softly.  

Tech feels the irritating sensation of moisture gathering in his eyes at the gentle words, but he does not wish to cry in front of his brothers. He has done quite enough of that in front of his sister. 

With some effort and not a little regret, Tech disentangles himself from Wrecker and Hunter’s grasp. There is one brother he has not seen since the destruction of Kamino, has not directly spoken to since he stepped in to draw Wrecker away from Crosshair’s cruelty. 

“Let it go, Wrecker. Crosshair has always been severe and unyielding. It is his nature. You can not change that. He cannot change that.”

“Why are you defending me?” 

“I am not. Understanding you does not mean that I agree with you.”

If Omega’s stories are anything to go by and bear any weight of reliability, it seems that Tech was wrong. Crosshair could change, did change, has changed. Tech wants to see and speak to his returned brother for himself, apologize for not pushing to recover him sooner. 

But when Tech steps around Wrecker and Hunter, and they all turn to where Crosshair had stood, the space is empty, gone like a shadow banished by light. 

***

It takes much convincing, but Tech is finally allowed to search for Crosshair on his own. He suspects that their conversation is better done in private. Omega offers him a few places that their brother might have disappeared to, but Tech is fortunate enough to find Crosshair in the first one. It is a tree house near the top of the island, built by his brothers for Omega and any children who might enjoy it. This late in the night, the little structure is seemingly vacant, but Tech climbs the rungs of the rope ladder anyway. Crosshair sits across from the narrow opening in the floor, back against the short wall, one leg out and one drawn up with his arms crossed and propped on his knee. 

“Hello,” Tech says, pulling himself up and settling himself across from Crosshair. 

Crosshair’s face is turned down, and even if he lifted it, Tech could probably not read his expression in the dim light. “Omega already told you about all of our hiding spots?” Crosshair asks. 

Tech hums, glancing around. “Not all of them, I’m sure. She only gave me a brief summary of the most likely locations.”

“I’m surprised you snuck away,” Crosshair says. “I didn’t think Hunter would let you out of his sight for the next ten standard years.” 

“That is a gross exaggeration,” Tech muses, “and I did not sneak anywhere. I told them I was going, and they let me. You on the other hand…” 

Crosshair makes a scoffing noise. It is so achingly familiar that Tech feels a tight fist of emotion lodge in his throat. It does not take much effort to imagine that this is one of the many times that Tech has sought Crosshair out, sitting with him in the quiet of a supply closet until he was ready to return to the barracks. They had always been able to communicate in silent moments, a steady presence when words were inadequate. 

The silence between them now, however, is stilted and strained. A weight and a distance. 

Tech desperately wants to fill it. Before he fell, when he thought they were going to rescue Crosshair from the Empire, Tech had rehearsed what he might say. But now, against Tech’s will, with years passed, his practiced words have expired. Crosshair has come back, has changed, has grown older in both body and mind. A few months to Tech are now years and memories to Crosshair. 

Tech does not know what to say, does not know what reparations have already been made. What he could add, what he should add, what he should leave to rest. 

He wishes he had asked Omega for more insight rather than a basic history of events. 

To his surprise, it is Crosshair that fills the silence instead. “They told me it was you that first wanted to ignore my warning message.” 

“Only because it was I that found it first,” Tech says. 

“I told you to hide.” 

“We were never ones to follow orders, were we?” Tech asks with a grin. 

“You shouldn’t have died,” Crosshair says, voice thick. 

“And I didn’t,” Tech returns. “Merely an extended absence.” 

Crosshair growls at that. “Merely,” he sneers, but Tech recognizes the grief. It is a reflection of his own. 

“Not merely,” Tech amends. “I do not regret my attempted sacrifice. But since I did not perish, I regret that I have missed growing old with all of you, seeing Omega grow up.” 

“It’s my fault. If I hadn’t…if I had just come with you on Kamino…” Crosshair cuts himself off.

Tech sighs. “Do not try to shoulder the weight of shared blame, Crosshair. We might have all made different decisions with different outcomes. I am sorry we did not try to find you sooner.” 

Crosshair shakes his head, and Tech hears a sharp intake of breath. He is moving before he thinks better of it, sitting next to Crosshair on the rough, wood slat floor. He wraps an arm around Crosshair’s back, drawing him into his side. The former sniper resists at first, leaning away, but Tech takes a metaphorical page from Wrecker’s book and holds fast until Crosshair resigns to be held. 

“I know that I am late to say it; however, it is true nonetheless,” Tech says in a low voice. “I am most relieved you found your way home.” 

“It was Omega’s fault,” Crosshair huffs. He swallows audibly and adds, “She brought you home too.” 

Tech smiles. “She does have an uncanny aptitude for finding things that are lost.” 

“How is it that you can say something profound and make it sound like an understatement?” Crosshair chuckles brokenly. 

“It is one of my many talents,” Tech says. 

They sit for a long time in comfortable silence.

***

Omega announces that she can stay on Pabu for two weeks. What is exploring the island to Tech is reminiscing to his siblings as they share stories and memories associated with every place they go. 

This large rock formation on the west beach is where Crosshair and Hunter taught Omega how to dive. 

This little fishing boat is the one they built together during their first spring on Pabu. 

These tide pools are where they spent nearly every Benduday in the summer. 

This is where they built a sand castle so big that it took the tide nearly a week to smooth it back to nothing. 

This clearing is where they’d go camping to practice Omega’s survival skills. 

This is the street Omega was running down when she fell and broke her arm. 

This is the food stall where they’d get their decanting day treats every year. 

Countless memories excitedly shared. 

And he missed every single one. 

It is the last afternoon before Omega leaves that their brothers return to the house early. They do not say it, but Tech can see that they are tired, their stamina not the same as it was when they were soldiers and younger. So they leave Omega and Tech and Batcher down on the beach, telling them they’ll have fresh caf ready for them when they come home. 

Tech and Omega watch Batcher chase after the moon-yos, the little creatures chattering at the lurca hound as they scamper just out of reach. Omega chuckles sadly, poking at the sand with a piece of driftwood. “She's getting old,” she mutters. “The moon-yos are letting her keep up.” 

“Batcher does not seem to mind,” Tech observes. 

“She doesn’t know any better,” Omega says. “She doesn’t know that time is a thief. Sometimes, I wish I didn’t know either. Just enjoy each and every day without wondering when it will end.” 

That is a somber thought. Tech turns his gaze to the water, waves calmly lapping the shore, unperturbed by the bleak conversation. 

“You will leave tomorrow?” Tech asks. 

Omega nods. “At sunup.” 

Batcher starts barking at something she’s found, leaping and wagging her tail. Omega smiles and pushes herself to her feet, going to see what the beast has discovered. 

Tech knows why his brothers do not join Omega in the Rebellion. They have already fought a war, fought for the life they now have, the peace they’ve now embraced. He discussed it with them late one night after Omega had gone to bed. It was not a decision made lightly, especially Omega leaving to join the Rebellion on her own. Hunter admitted that her ambitions clashing with his fear had led to many heated arguments in the beginning, until Omega tried to slip away into the night without warning. Omega is a warrior, a rescuer, a fighter. She is restless and uneasy until she knows she has done everything in her power to help those in need.

Tech understands her drive deeply. But to watch her leave again, he does not think he can stand it. He’s already lost so much time…

“Perhaps,” Tech says, softly, almost inaudible over the noise of the surf, “I will come with you.” 

Omega doesn’t hear him, but he’s already made up his mind. 

***

Tech wakes before the sun rises, but Omega’s room is already empty. She said her goodbyes last night to each of them, and Tech did not say a word about his plan; however, he had hoped to catch her before she left the house. He does not have much, but he snatches the small bag he packed and bolts out the front door, not as quietly as he would have hoped. The path to the cavern has become familiar enough that even in the dim light of approaching dawn, he finds his way quickly. 

He only slows his pace when he sees his sister ahead of him, just entering the gaping mouth of the cave.

“If you are under the impression that you are going without me, that is not going to happen,” he says as he comes in behind her. 

Omega stops short and her shoulders drop subtly, before she turns to face him, dark eyes weary. “Tech, you belong here, with our brothers. We just got you back…we can’t - we won’t - risk losing you again.” 

“That is not for any of you to decide,” Tech declares. “You have chosen that your path is with the Rebellion, and I have chosen that my path is with my sister. So much of my time has been stolen. I did not see you grow up as our brothers did. I did not help teach you or raise you. I can make up for that now.”

“Tech,” Omega sighs, “You taught me so much–” 

“Please, Omega,” Tech cuts her off. “I have already decided. Do not try to leave me behind, because we both know I can and will find alternate means. It would be much simpler this way.” 

That makes his sister smile, a battle worn grin that looks far too old. “I suppose you’re right about that,” she concedes, shifting the strap of her bag on her shoulder. “But what will Hunter say?” 

“He’d probably say don’t take unnecessary risks, and watch out for one another,” Hunter’s voice calls out. 

Tech takes a steadying breath before he faces his brothers who have come in behind them. “Apologies, I did not mean to wake you when I left,” he says.

“If you hadn’t meant to wake us,” Crosshair says with a wry grin, “you wouldn’t have sounded like a herd of stampeding rancors as you ran out the door.” 

“Rancors do not move in herds,” Tech tells him. 

Crosshair groans. “It made my point, didn’t it?”  

“I was trying to catch up to Omega,” Tech explains, “I fully intended on returning to give my farewells before officially departing.” 

“You better have,” Wrecker says, scooping Tech up in his arms. “You keep an eye on little Meg. She’s a crazy pilot. Learned it from you.” 

“It’s called skill,” Omega retorts playfully. “But yes, I did learn it from Tech.” 

Tech wriggles out of Wrecker’s grip in time for Crosshair to sidle up and put a loose arm over Tech’s shoulder. “Make Omega come visit more often,” he says. 

Hunter nods. “And make sure she calls us at least once a week.” 

Omega rolls her eyes. “Guys, Tech’s not coming to be my babysitter. If anything, I’m going to be reminding him we need to call.”

“In that case,” Hunter says, pulling Omega into his arms, “make sure Tech comes and visits his older brothers once in a while, huh?”

Omega leans into him. “Of course. We both will. I promise.” 

It is well past sunup before Tech and Omega board her ship. He waits for her to move to the pilot’s seat, but she hangs back, watching him with a smile. “You wanna get us out of here?” she asks. “Modified this beauty myself…well, Echo helped. But you can let me know how she handles.” 

Tech grins. He does not need to be asked twice. 

END

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[squichymochi]

So here is another something I wrote. I’ll probably be writing more now, but updates will be slow because I usually work 50 hours a week. However, as Hazbin is still on my mind 👉🏻👈🏻, here ya go.

Warning: this contains swearing, some cuddles, and nothing too out of the ordinary for the show.

Husk x Reader (Husk is transformed into a tiny kitten)

Word Count: 1.033

I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I love writing it. As I mentioned before, English is not my first language. Thank you ❤️

Wiping down the bar in Husk's absence, you found a peculiar solace in the repetitive motion. Across from you, Angel Dust lounged, a Bloody Mary in one hand and his phone in the other.

"You alright there, hun?" you asked, concern threading your voice. Husk usually manned the bar, doubling as a makeshift therapist for the Hotels weary souls.

Angel glanced up, his frown dissolving into a practiced smile. Raising a hand, you stopped him, "No need to pretend, Angel. Is it Val again?"

He deflated, a heavy sigh escaping him. "Yeah, it is," he admitted.

Before you could offer a stronger drink, a loud bang echoed through the hotel entrance, startling both of you. "What?!" you exclaimed, instinctively summoning a pair of knives into your hands. But Charlie's voice soon echoed through the hall, and your tension eased.

"I am soooooo sorry!" Charlie's voice was a mix of panic and remorse. You and Angel rushed to the front, finding Charlie in tears, while Vaggie was clutching something in her arms.

"What in the heavens happened?" you asked, approaching with concern. Peering closer, you were stunned to see a kitten with fur patterns strikingly similar to Husk's. At the sound of your voice, the kitten looked up, meowing softly.

You froze, a mix of shock, amusement, and rising panic washing over you. Angel, unable to contain himself, chuckled, "Is this our dear grumbly Husk looking all cute?"

The kitten hissed, swiping at Angel's fingers, clearly unamused. In your mind, you could almost hear Husk's voice, *Piss off, you asshole*.

"What happened, Charlie?" you asked, a deep weariness in your voice as you massaged your temples. Charlie ran up to you clasping your hands into hers. She started explaining, sobs still tumbling out of her. They tried to solve a bigger problem and ended up within a turf war gone wrong and a dust bomb that hit Husk. As she spoke, Vaggie cradled the tiny kitten version of Husk, concern etched on her face.

"We'll find a solution, I promise," Charlie declared, determination in her voice, despite her tear-stained eyes.

Later this evening Husk, in his kitten form, had taken up residence atop the bar, his tail flicking irritably. "I really hope we find a way to change you back soon," you sighed, leaning against the counter. "I miss your hugs, you big grump." He responded with a hiss, but sauntered over to nuzzle against your face. As you stroked his soft fur, his eyes fluttered closed contentedly.

"Ugh, what a shitty day!" Angel Dust collapsed onto a stool in front of you, his face etched with exhaustion. "Hard day at work?" you asked, continuing to pet Husk.

"You could say that," Angel Dust replied, tears brimming in his eyes. "I just wish I didn't have to do this shit or do all of them…I don’t know.", he laughed hysterically. Husk, sensing his friend's distress, moved to comfort him, purring as he leaned against Angel's face.

Angel picked up the kitten, placing him on his lap. A smile found its way to your lips – even in this unusual form, Husk was there for his friends.

As days passed, you awoke one morning to find Husk, still in kitten form, growling atop the bar counter. Alastor's voice filled the air with static. "Look at you, now my pet for real," he taunted, reaching out to pet him. But Husk growled and swiped at Alastor's hand, drawing blood.

"Take care whose hand you're biting, dear friend," Alastor warned, his voice tinged with static-laden threat and his demonic form slowly appearing. 

"Alastor," you interjected sharply. In an instant, his demeanor shifted back to his usual smiling self. "Oh dear, could you prepare my usual?" he requested, his smile never wavering.

"Of course," you replied, shooting Husk a stern look. Husk hopped off the counter, still growling under his breath and sauntering to his usual spot on the sofa.

That evening, as you all engaged in group activities with Vaggie as Charlie was still trying to desperately find an antidote (mind you it’s been over a week). Husk stubbornly remained on the table. Vaggie tried to shoo him away, but his 'I don’t give a shit' glare won out, and everyone left him be. 

During Sir Pentious's dramatic storytelling, Husk probably was fed up with the snakes story and began pushing a glass off the table. "NO," Vaggie's voice was filled with murderous intent, but the glass went flying regardless.

Sighing heavily and apologising profusely for your grumpy boyfriend you scooped Husk into your lap, petting him until he began to purr and nestle into you. "I like petting you, you know," you teased. He responded with a playful nip at your hand.

Suddenly, with a snap of Alastor's fingers, Husk was back to his usual self, sitting awkwardly in your lap staring into your eyes. "You could have changed me back this whole time?!" Husk turned his head to look at the radio demon and bristled, ready to explode. You hugged him tighter, trying to calm him down, which wasn’t the easiest thing to do.

Alastor's reply, "Oh, where would be the fun in that?" only fueled Husk's anger further.

"Babe," you whispered, and Husk finally realized he was still in your lap, his cheeks turning slightly red. "I'm just so happy to have you back," you murmured, hugging him while trying to calm all of them the fuck down.

Your moment was interrupted by a loud bang. Charlie burst in, triumphantly holding a vial. "I got it!" she exclaimed. Upon seeing Husk back in his original form, she let out a bewildered, "What the fuck!?"

As the evening wound down, Husk whispered in your ear, "I hope you'll still want to pet me later in our room, babe," his purr sending a blush across your face and heat straight to your core.

"Kinky," Angel teased, wiggling his fingers. You buried your face in Husk's fur, overwhelmed but relieved. You could feel your boyfriend’s low chuckle and his arms wrapping tightly around your form. Despite the chaos, you were grateful to have Husk back, knowing it was only the beginning of solving the hotel's larger problems.

Thanks for reading ☺️

[snapmite1998]

Whispers of New Beginnings

In the gentle glow of a noontime sun, the world around Rapunzel seemed to dance in hues of gold, framing her delicate silhouette against the backdrop of the enchanting forests of Berk. With her trusted companion, Pascal, nestled securely in her hands, she felt as if the very essence of joy had coiled itself around her heart. Life here had been a beautiful tapestry, woven with threads of love and adventure shared alongside Hiccup and Astrid, two souls who had captivated her spirit with their fiery passion and unwavering loyalty.

Caught in a blissful reverie, Rapunzel gazed out at the rolling green hills and the towering cliffs that cradled the forest, her thoughts spiraling with sweet anticipation. The news she held within her seemed too precious for mere words, yet it threatened to burst forth like a sparkling waterfall cascading over a rocky cliff.

Pregnant.

The word echoed through her mind, vibrant and alive. A little bundle of joy was blossoming within her, a testament to the ineffable connection she shared with her two lovebirds. Her heart swelled, as if it were a balloon drifting upwards into the infinite sky, carrying dreams and hopes on its back.

Just then, the familiar figures of Hiccup and Astrid emerged, their laughter intermingling with the crisp evening air. Hiccup, with his tousled hair gleaming like sunlit wheat, and Astrid, vibrant and fierce, walked hand in hand. Their presence radiated warmth, and Rapunzel felt an electrifying surge of love pulse through her as they approached. The moment felt sacred, woven with joy and shimmering with unspoken words—until, at last, the dam within her heart burst open.

"There you are," Astrid smiled at Rapunzel, "we were looking for you."

Hiccup placed his hands on his hips and smiled softly at his second wife. "We thought you would be home resting, especially since you weren't feeling well. Are you alright?" He inquired, concern gleaming in his eyes.

"I'm more than alright, Hiccup. In fact, I have fantastic news." After a moment's pause, she continued, “I’m pregnant. We’re going to have a baby!” The words unfurled like petals blooming under a radiant sun, releasing sweetness into the air. Their reactions were instantaneous, the joy in their eyes igniting a fire that consumed the space between them. Hiccup's face lit up like a beacon, his mouth falling open in astonished delight, while Astrid’s smile graced her face, fierce yet tender, akin to the bright blue sky overhead.

“Oh, Rapunzel!” Hiccup exclaimed, stepping forward and enveloping her in a warm embrace, as if he wished to shield her and their little miracle from the rest of the world. He held her against him, his heart racing with excitement, the prospect of fatherhood propelling him into the clouds where dreams soared high and free. “This is amazing! Just when I thought I couldn’t be happier!”

And then, with the brilliance of shared love igniting within her, Astrid stepped closer, her eyes glistening with tears that sparkled like stars caught beneath the vivid sky. “I have something to tell you both too,” she said, her tone bursting with exhilaration. “I’m pregnant too!” The implication of their three hearts thrumming in unison sent a wave of enveloping warmth surging through Rapunzel, knitting together their love stories into a beautiful new beginning.

The trio broke into joyous laughter, a symphony of bliss that echoed around the hills, capturing the essence of the moment. Each of them, ensconced in a cocoon of love, knew wonderfully that they had embarked on a journey that would forever change their lives. Hiccup, with his arms wrapped around both of them, felt as though he was floating above the very clouds themselves, his heart swelling with dreams for their future, a future now infinitely brighter and more intricate than he could ever have imagined.

As the revelation of pregnancy settled into their minds, the three of them stood beneath the cloudless sky and sun rays beaming down on them, united in laughter, dreams, and the serene silence that follows joyous news. In this perfect moment, wrapped in love and hope, they knew that they would face whatever came their way together, hand in hand and heart to heart, carving out a life filled with magic for their little one yet to arrive.

In the embrace of that blissful moment, time seemed to stand still, as if the world around them faded into a gentle haze. The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving only the soft glow of twilight to illuminate the expression of unfiltered joy painted upon their faces. Caught in the cocoon of their deep connection, Hiccup felt a wave of happiness wash over him, overwhelming in its magnitude. He cherished every bit of warmth radiating from Rapunzel and Astrid, the two women who held his heart with an immeasurable tenderness.

With a heart brimming with love, he leaned in, kissing each of them softly on the lips. The tenderness of their connection filled the air, electric and sweet, a physical manifestation of the love that vibrated between them. Each kiss was like a pledge—a vow to stand by each other in all the chapters yet to come. As their lips met, it felt as though the stars above twinkled in approval, dancing in harmony with the melody of their hearts.

As Hiccup pulled back, breathless, he took a moment to admire the beautiful sight of Rapunzel, with her golden hair cascading like sunlight, and Astrid, fierce and radiant, her eyes alight with excitement. Unable to contain the affection swelling within him, he murmured softly, “I love you both so much.” The sincerity of his words hung in the air, rich and lush, grounding them in the reality of their profound bond.

To his heart's delight, they nodded in unison, as if the very cadence of his words resonated deeply within them. With laughter dancing on their lips, they leaned into Hiccup once more, taking his hands, their fingers interlacing with eagerness and affection. They gently guided his hands to rest upon their flat bellies, the movement imbued with a sense of sacred connection that felt both intimate and transcendent.

Rapunzel’s voice shimmered like the stars above, “We’re so excited for this new journey, Hiccup. Our family is growing.” There was a lingering tenderness in her gaze, a promise of the beautiful moments that lay ahead, filled with laughter, stories, and dreams woven together.

Astrid, ever strong and fierce, chimed in, her voice filled with a warmth that could melt even the coldest of nights, “You’ll be the best father, Hiccup. I know it. We’re in this together.”

As they stood there—bound by love, hope, and the bright future burgeoning within them—Hiccup could feel the warmth emanating from their bellies, as if their dreams were blooming in the very heart of their beings. A sensation of pure elation coursed through him, igniting his spirit and soaring through the depths of his soul, where possibility danced like the flickering light of a candle in the dark.

In that moment, there was an unspoken understanding that floated between them, an acknowledgment of the unbreakable bond they had cultivated. Their laughter mingled with the gentle breeze, enveloping them in a cocoon of serenity and bliss. They held that moment—an ethereal blend of love and hope—savoring the tender shadows as they flickered against the backdrop of their shared dreams.

Together, they closed their eyes, lost in a world where only they existed, wrapped in the magic of their love and the anticipation of the exhilarating adventure that lay ahead. They felt set adrift in a sea of possibilities, each heartbeat a reminder of the joy their new family would ultimately bring, thus creating a beautiful symphony that would echo in the annals of their lives forevermore.

[sentientgolfball]

How about “I’m bad at texting first, so I always end up hoping you will.” with Swiss and Dew!

ok this was actually so cute ough this is like EARLY prequelle so Swiss is referred to as Multi :3

Send a prompt and a pair!

“He hates me,” Dew groans, bursting into Mountain’s room. 

“Hello to you too Dewdrop,” Mountain laughs, turning the page of his book. 

“You’re laughing? The new summon hates me and you’re laughing?” He flops onto his bed with a dramatic sigh. 

“Dewbug. My love. Who hates you?” 

“Multi!”

“Multi? What do you mean he hates you? I can literally see the hearts in his eyes when he stares at you.” 

Dew groans again. He reaches into his pocket, silently tossing it at Mountain while he keeps his face firmly planted into the mattress. Mountain rolls his eyes, picking up the phone and unlocking it with practiced ease. It immediately opens to a text thread with Multi. He scrolls through, skimming over the messages to find what Dew is talking about. All he finds are Dew answering questions about life Topside, Dew telling him where he is, a few sexts which Mountain makes a mental note of, and a question about Mountain’s favorite flower which he pretends not to see. 

“I’m confused,” he tosses the phone back at Dew, “what’s the problem here?” 

“He doesn’t wanna talk to me.” He rolls over so he’s laying on his back. 

“Did you go see Chain? I told you to stop smoking with him, you know he gets his stuff from Pebble.” 

“I’m not high you bastard.” 

“Then I have no idea what’s wrong with you.” 

“I already told you!” 

“Okay,” he sighs, “walk me through what’s going on in that little head of yours.” 

“Fine. But don’t laugh at me.” 

“I would never.”

“Aether said the same thing and now I’m here so…” 

“Dew.” 

“…yeah okay. So you looked at all the messages?” 

Mountain nods, humming in response. 

“Right yeah so did you notice anything?” 

“Besides you begging to suck his dick? No nothing.” 

“Mount!”

“Sorry.” 

Dew sighs, “He never texts me first.” 

Mountain has to bite his tongue to stop himself from laughing. He clears his throat, “Come again?” 

“Seriously you too?” 

“No, I'm sorry. Continue.” He smiles. 

Dew glares, “am I being too forward? I don’t exactly know what element he was raised in so I can’t do this the normal way.” 

“Do what?” Mountain tilts his head. 

“I don’t know! Show him that he's cool…I guess?” 

“So it wasn’t just Aether. You’re just bad at this in general huh.” 

“Fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.” 

“I’ve been here longer than you!” 

Dew grumbles, standing off the bed and stomping to the door, “Thank you for nothing dirt boy.” 

He slams the door when he leaves. Mountain shakes his head with a smile before grabbing his own phone from his nightstand. He opens his thread with Aether. 

So I hear your mate has a crush on the new guy? 

Dew decides to spend the rest of the day in the practice room. They’re still a ways away from tour so he shouldn’t be bothered. All the new summons are still in their learning phase so if anyone does come in they’ll more than likely head to one of the smaller, private rooms on the side. He figures trying to learn one of the stupid solos the stupid Cardinal wrote for him will take his mind off of his weird feelings. If not, he’ll go to Mist and have her smack some sense into him. He’d rather not have to go that far though. 

He loses track of time as he plays, fingers flying over the fretboard as he works on Faith. He may not be a fire ghoul yet, but his deadline is quickly approaching. He might as well know at least a little before he changes. He pushes himself until his body hurts, fingers sore from the repetition and shoulders aching from the weight of the fantomen. He plays as far into the song as he can one last time before calling it quits, putting the guitar back in its rack and sitting on the amp. He stretches his hand, wincing at how stiff it feels. 

“You alright?” 

Dew yelps at the voice that rumbles out so close to his ear. He nearly falls off the amp, but two large hands grab him. 

“Sorry,” Multi laughs, “didn’t mean to scare ya.” 

“When did you get in here?” 

“A while ago,” he shrugs, “you sounded really good.” 

Dew blinks a few times. He hadn’t noticed anyone around him. Hadn’t even seen the door open. 

“How did you?” 

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” Multi laughs. 

Dew pockets that for later, bound and determined to figure out what the fuck he could possibly mean. Instead he focuses on what’s in front of him. Multi. His amber and incense scent is so strong when he’s so close. It makes Dew’s stomach knot, tail flicking behind him. 

“Was there,” Dew pauses to clear his throat, “was there something you needed?” 

“Oh! Yeah uh I was looking for you and Mountain said you’d probably be here. Hadn’t heard from you all day and I was worried.” 

Dew furrows his brow, “You could’ve texted me.” 

Multi looks away, uncharacteristically sheepish, “I uh…I don’t know how.” 

Dew blinks slowly, “huh?” 

“I don’t know how. To text.” 

“Bullshit we do it all the time!” 

“Yeah! That’s because I click on the thing whenever I see your name! I don’t know how to do it any other way! So I always wait for you.” 

Dew stares at him for a moment before bursting out laughing. 

“What? What’s so funny?” Multi furrows his brow. 

“Nothing nothing,” Dew shakes his head, “just…here give me your phone.” 

He still looks confused, but he hands it over to Dew. 

“Damn default lockscreen. Let’s change that.” He opens the camera app and hooks and arm around Multi’s neck, bringing him into frame. 

“Smile,” Dew says, looking at their image in the camera. 

Multi shrugs, bewilderment momentarily dropping off of his face as he flashes his fangs. Dew takes the picture, humming approval as he sets it as his lockscreen. 

“That’s not gonna steal my soul is it?” 

“No it won’t steal your soul. It’s just for fun, here look.” Dew holds it up so he can see their picture. 

Multi smiles at the sight of them together, a moment captured in time. 

“Now whenever you open your phone you’ll get to see this lovely face.” 

“Now,” Dew continues, “this is how you can text me.” 

He makes sure Multi is watching before he taps on the icon. Their thread is already pulled up when he opens it. 

“Oh,” he says flatly, a hint of embarrassment tinging his word. 

“Yeah oh. Don’t worry about it, it took Mountain ages to even learn how to unlock his phone.” 

“Really?” He laughs. 

“Yes really. I’m surprised he even knows how to use it. Don’t tell him I said that.” 

The two spend a bit more time in the practice, squished close together while Dew shows him all the things his phone can do. They take a lot more pictures, download a few apps, and change everyone’s contact names. They had back to the den hand in hand when they’re done. Dew can feel Multi’s hand warm, fire soothing the ache in his fingers from earlier. He doesn’t acknowledge it, instead, he twines their tails together, keeping him close while they walk. 

[blushy-plushie-bovid]

Upkeep and Maintenance (pt 2)

Ok heres the link to pt 1 if anyone is interested

Heres the recovery and hopeful follow up to part one, again this is mostly for me and will not be very good but if anyone decides to read i hope u like it!

This one’s Vision faded, all it could think about was how it had failed its witch. It made such a mess as it ceased to be. It became a pile of fabric thread and stuffing, that could generously suggest the form of a pure white plush cow it had previously been.

This one was still, and nothing for a long time, before sound of footfalls awoke whatever distant spark of magic that once animated the plush remained. Sight barely returned to this one’s one remaining eye, and hearing returned to its fluffy bovine ears. The footfalls were accompanied by a soft humming of an unfamiliar voice, a humming that ceased with a gasp as the unknown person came into view of this one.

“Oh my god! What happened here?”

The unfamiliar woman stepped closer to this one, kneeling down to examine it in all its ruined glory. This one didn’t have the strength to move but turned one plastic eye upward to watch the woman. She was looking this one over, and with sorrow in her voice says to herself,

“This place has been abandoned so long, how long did you last I wonder, there was much less dust than I expected…”

As she says it she reaches out in pity, and pets this one’s head. It hadn’t felt a comforting touch since Miss made this one, and what remained of its plush body shuddered at the alien touch.

The new woman gasped at the sign of life, holding her hands over her mouth in shock, tears welling in her eyes. she immediately scooped this one up into her arms. This one couldn’t help but shake and shudder. Who was this woman? Why was she here and not Miss? It wanted to be good, but being carried, and pitied, even for a moment was too good to be true. The woman carried this one to a spare bedroom, and laid it down on the bed. This plush cow wanted to recoil, Miss said the bedrooms weren’t for this one, and now it was disobeying. The women patted its head again, the warm touch calming it slightly.

“How long have you stayed like that? The Witch who used this property hasn’t been here in a decade? Don’t tell me she abandoned a doll here to continue on”

there was a hint of rage in her voice that this one did not notice. The words she said couldn’t be right. Miss had said to keep working. To keep this place clean. This one must have disappointed her, caused her to leave, surely Miss would have come back for this one otherw-

A warm comforting hand grabs this one’s hoof. Some more energy returns to this one, the warmth of magic spreading throughout its body once again. Is this woman, a witch?

“Im so sorry this happened to you honey. Im the new owner of this place, can you tell me what happened to you?”

This one weakly opens her mouth for a moment, forgetting, before recalling the plastic loop on its back. The woman protests a moment as this one turns to show the pull-string to her. She sighs, and nods, grabbing the ring firmly, asking her question again, then giving it a gentle tug.

Immediately this one’s voice box crackles back to life after decades of lack of use “This one was meant to keep this place clean. This one failed its witch. This one made quite the mess. This one is sorry you had to see such a mess.”

This one can tell that the new witch is saddened by this one’s words, she pulls it into a tight hug, careful yet close. This one feels safe for the first time it can remember.

“Would it be alright if I began to fix you up dear? Im sure it’s quite painful to be in that state” she asks, still holding it. She gives the hoop a gentle tug.

“Yes Miss, if it would please you… if this ones witch truly has left it. Then… It supposes thats fine.”

She nods, and opens a satchel that is on her hip. Within it is all sorts of sewing materials. She takes out a needle and thread, then a pair of scissors. She asses the damage, and realizes that many places of damage are beyond small tears. So she turns to her bag once again, she removes several pink a blue patches. She prepares her materials, then places one soft hand on my thigh above the large hole. This one braces itself for the needle entry of the stitch, but the feeling it gets instead is warmth, blossoming from the stitch and the witches hand. She works quickly, and before this one can realize a pretty blue patch covers the hole, and the stuffing returned inside.

She continues like that for hours, replacing stuffing, patching holes, sewing up smaller tears. Over and over and over. This one feels warm and joyous in a way it’s ashamed to admit it never once felt for its… ex… witch.

Feeling returns to this one’s extremities, and its tail begins to sway lazily back and forth. It grins at the new witch.

She finishes the last area, attatching a big round button over a blue patch where this one had lost one of its eyes and sits back. The witch seems happy witch herself.

“Now finally, I can do this” she pulls this plush cow into a tight bearhug, the type of embrace every plush doll dreams of. The type miss never gave this one. This one feels better than it ever has before.

“How does everything feel?” She says, pulling the loop

“Perfect! Thank you so much! This one owes you! Now it can return to its duties!”

She takes the cows hooves in her hands. And squeezes gently “you don’t need to clean anymore, now that this place is mine… that duty isn’t needed anymore”

This one sinks a bit, feeling ashamed. Of course. Miss wasn’t here anymore. This one belonged to miss. Its shoulders dropped, and the new witch could tell something had entered this one’s mind. She pulls the string.

“Thank you for all you have done for this one! Now that I’m in better shape ill get out of your home Miss” this one then attempted to stand but was stopped by the new witch.

“This home is mine yes, but seeing how the cow plush was in it, if its alright with that one, the it would be my doll now too”

A brief silence passed over the room, and so many thoughts ran through this one’s mind. But after a moment, it nodded yes.

“Perfect! Well then my calf, there is a new purpose for that one. I am in need of someone to provide comfort. Your soft plush surface, and well stuffed body would be perfect for that, don’t you think?”

.

.

.

.

.

A month passed. The sun rises and light shines through the window of Miss May’s bedroom. She hugs this one tight to her chest. A seam broke over night on this one’s neck. As Miss yawns and stretches she notices it.

“Aw sweetheart, you alright?” She asks, and pulls my chord.

“Yes Miss!! This is nothing, this one hopes you slept well!”

“I did, thanks to you my calf~” she giggles and begins to make quick repairs to the broken stitches.

She finishes and lays there, holding this one as the light rolls in. Running her fingers up and down the seams of this one’s arms. This one finally feels safe. This one has finally succeeded in its purpose. This one is cared for so closely.

[pen-of-roses]

To Ardrisilen

Excerpt written for @flashfictionfridayofficial 's weekly prompt.

Moorefren.

The name sat uncomfortably in their stomach, even with its familiarity.

A city, only a few days travel from Ardrisilen. They might have been once as a child, or passed through as part of the guard at best. Not enough to make much of an impression, even if it was one of the bigger cities, though, not much compared to that place, all things considered. But even so, they knew it shouldn’t quite look like…this.

But it was only a few days from Ardrisilen. 

“East then.”

The woman huffed, “Ya just came off the east road though.”

They swallowed, mouth dry, pit opening in their stomach, even as they shrugged and offered a shy smile in turn.

No matter what though, they had to get back.

She eyed them for a moment more—their own gaze settling just over her tall shoulder on the wood of the wagon—before she turned back to loading, brown hair swishing over their view. “Get turned around somewhere, huh?”

Their hands tightened on the strap of their bag as they ground out, “Must’ve.”

“Hm. Wait here.” She walked over to another wagon a little ways off. They were too far off to hear, but there were general motions in their direction and critical eyes turned on them. 

They tried not to hide in the threadbare hood too much. What a sight they must look in the oversized, patchy cloak, and bag barely holding together. 

Was this a mistake? Were they going to call the guard or priests or whoever was in charge?

They couldn’t afford that kind of delay. That nagging tug on their heart might kill them.

Fingernails bit crescents of pain into their thumbs as they watched.

Eventually the two must have come to some sort of favorable agreement, because she came walking back over with a wide smile. Kind, if not also slightly overwhelming after so long alone. She climbed up into the wagon and motioned to them. “Alright, jump on, you’re in luck that we’re traveling that way, and we’ll be headed out soon.” 

They scrambled up to the seat next to her. Whether or not she actually heard the muttered thanks didn’t matter when she clapped a hand on their shoulder with a grunt of her own. And they didn’t flinch too obviously—or she was just too oblivious. Either was fine really.

 “‘S a wonder you managed to get anywhere safely on your own anyhow, I suppose. What with all the nonsense about creatures lurking out there and all. Probably better you stumbled here with someone who could get you a ways farther. We can keep ya well…” 

Her voice was nice as she rambled, even if they didn’t catch all of her words. It was soothing, and she didn’t expect much more than a nod or general motion of acknowledgement in order to continue. 

Still, it didn’t quiet the insistence that they get moving as soon as possible towards Ardrisilen. Nor the conflicting dread that they should start running in any other direction.

“Ya got a name?”

Their mouth opened.

They were standing before the statue bathed in its odd, flickering light again, with a name carved like an accusation at its feet amongst those damning words.

Their jaw clicked shut, and they offered a half shrug and a shake of their head. No, they didn’t. At least, not one that belonged to them anymore.

“No?”

They hunched in on themself slightly.

“Alright, suit yourself. Still gotta call ya something though…” She trailed off as a whistle sounded and the caravan finally started moving. 

The wagons’ lanterns cast dancing shadows over the buildings that made their odd designs twist and contort as if they were pressing in closer, threatening to swallow them and the road and the past—

Swallowing, they looked down at their lap. A thread was loose on their cloak again. It would probably need to be repaired soon. 

“Mine’s Mararyn. My name that is. Rude of me to ask without offering my own in turn, isn’t it. Sorry bout that.”

They offered what they hoped was a reassuring smile. Though, it felt awfully brittle.

“Been sometime since anyone new joined me though. Normally Pela takes care of all that. He’s the one up ahead us. But don’t think that means I don’t want ya here. Glad for the company an all. Nice to have someone to talk to after all. What’s out east for ya anyhow?”

Their mouth opened again, “Ardrisilen” catching in their throat. It hadn’t always been this difficult to speak had it?

But there hadn’t always been the oppressive fear of knowing, though, had there?

“Home,” the word slipped out, weak and shaky, “I hope.”

“Oh dearest,” so much weight and grief and sadness in her words. “Not the happiest memories or departure I take it?”

“No, great” they shook their head urgently, trying to get across the meaning, trying to get the words out, “no, they were great, they were…”

Faint smiles, muffled words of love and pride, ghosts of warm arms holding them, the impression of flowers pressed into their hands, phantom kisses placed in their hair, tears falling on their face—

Why couldn’t they remember their faces?

How long had it been?

“I have to get home.”

They had to know.

[jellymellydraws]

Their Stupid Smile

Inspired by This Prompt Tav/Durge getting badly wounded protecting Astarion just as he planned, but they’re so covered in blood and guts they’re able to hide it. Until later that night at camp Astarion, attracted by the smell of their blood, finds them out in the clearing nearly passed out trying to patch themselves up Astarion x gn!Tav Rating: General Audience Warning: Mention of blood and wounds but not graphic. Astarion POV

The lingering scent of blood beckoned towards the hills. Astarion followed, led by his ever present hunger towards a midnight snack. He poked his head out, scanning the area before continuing forward. Drawing nearer.

Tav was sitting against a boulder. Hardly a surprise, they were committed to their nightly training regimes. He ignored it.

Though, the promise of a meal pulled him dangerously close towards them. A councidence, surely.

The closer he drew, the less of a coincidence it seemed. Through the grayscale of darkvision, he could see dark splotches on the ground surrounding Tav.

The stench strengthened. His pupils dilated.

Tav kept a hand pressed against their side as blood stained through their clothes. They cursed through gritted teeth, "Shit shit shit shit!"

"You're deep in it, darling," Astarion answered, startling the poor gnome.

They froze like they had been caught in a scandal, "H-heyyyyyy Astarion! Funny seeing you here." As if they weren't bleeding profusely, the idiot grinned, "You uh, come here often?"

Astarion lurched forward, catching them as they slipped towards the ground. Gods above, how much blood had they lost? All this from a training mishap?

No. The bloodied barbs on the ground told another story. It all became clear now.

Amidst a brutal battle against gnolls, with the hills giving the enemy the perfect advantage. Astarion was not fairing well in the crossfire. He hadn't realized the gnoll chief charged at his back with its oversized club.

"Astarion!" Wyll shouted above the feral growls.

Tav leapt between them, slicing their blade cleanly through the gnoll chief, but also taking the full brunt of its attack meant for the party's rogue. They flashed him a smile from over their shoulder, pulling the barbed club out of their side and tossing it to the ground.

"Idiot..." Astarion muttered as he propped Tav against the boulder. They whined through their half-conscious haze, promptly getting shushed.

Strewn about the ground were various medical supplies, likely snatched from Shadowheart's supplies if they were hoping to perpetually conceal their wound. Stubborn little thing.

He grabbed Tav's waterskin and washed the blood away, giving him a better look at the wound. The area was bruised, it was starting to get infected. Tch. They made quite a mess of this, didn't they? He used his dagger to create another, precise, cut-- hoping to wash away the infection.

So much waste. Astarion shook his head with a scrunched nose. Not the time to mourn a lost meal. From the pack of supplies, he pulled a needle and thread, then immediately went to work. Nimble fingers worked quickly, pulling the skin together and sewing them. Not an easy feat when Tav couldn't keep themselves sitting upright. He managed to push his arm against their chest so they would stay up while his other hand sewed, washed, and bandaged the wound closed.

"Alright," the vampire sighed, "that should do it. Time to wake up now."

Silence.

"Tav?"

No movement.

Smack "Wake up!"

Tav jolted awake, breathing heavily but still looking about in a panic.

"I-- wha-- oh--" they stopped stuttering once they looked at Astarion. That stupid doofy grin returned, "Heyyyyyy Astarion, funny seeing you--"

"Did the gnolls bash your head in as well, or were you always this dense? What in the hells were you thinking?!"

Tav's smile dropped as they glanced away. "I didn't want anyone to worry," they answered quietly.

"Hm, and how do you think you did with that quest?"

"You were worried about me?" They smiled again. Their stupid smile.

Astarion pouted. Tutted. "Well, we can't have our fearless-- albeit foolish-- leader die, now can we?"

They let out a strained chuckle before attempting to rise to their feet. Astarion put a firm hand on their shoulder and sat them back down.

"Oh no, you're not going anywhere. Not tonight." He settled himself next to Tav, careful to leave just enough space so he could see how the bandages were fairing, "If those stitches rip, I'll leave you to bleed out."

Tav didn't protest. They leaned against him as he rested an arm along their shoulders. He watched as the gnome relaxed into slumber.

Maybe he was a little worried...

[balladofthewhitehorse]

hope you aren't sick of me requesting things but how about "dinner is served" for eng, Scot, and Wales!

I would never be sick of your requests <3 Thank you so, so much - You inspire me to keep writing Hetalia Fics, not gonna lie. Your bear Eng has fuelled me. 

Wales scrutinised her brothers quietly, leaned back in her chair as England and Scotland stood on the shores of the lake; It was painted in idyllic colours, faint hues of pink and washed out orange unfurling across the sky. A thread of anxiety coiled tightly around her lungs, her heart, her ribs as England muttered something to Scotland - and then a bark of laughter let Wales breathe. ‘’Having fun-?’’ She called out, smiling thinly as England turned around to regard her - with an expression painfully reminiscent of younger days amongst the dandelions and the trees (Children’s wishes and sunlight - freckling the dark undergrowth). It struck at her heartstrings like fingers at a harp, Wales’ smile thinning. ‘’-Caught anything?’’ 

‘’Not yet.’’ England grunted softly, shaking his head dolefully; Fish had been furtive and England hovered on the grassy lakeside, almost tempted to dive in head-first into the brackish water. They would have more success that way, England was sure - impatience thrumming through every nerve. ‘’I don’t know how you can stand this - just a load of sitting around…waiting for something to happen.’’ (Once he had complained during a siege, staring up at those insurmountable walls - and now it echoed by the lakeshore, on a cold, grey day).

‘’Maybe if you stopped whingeing, the fish would come.’’ Scotland muttered under his breath.

England’s eyes flashed as he shot Scotland a glare; The surface of the lake rippled as a fish came up for air, a darting brown shape in the dusky light (England pouted, irritation bearing teeth - a thorny thing he was, as he elbowed Scotland in the ribs for good measure). ‘’You’re hardly the epitome of cheeriness.’’ He glanced at Wales, seeking her approval with an impish grin that lit up his eyes - and one that vanished as quick as a wink when Wales shook her head. ‘’Oh come on-’’ England groused, petulant while his half-sister simply crossed her arms in disapproval; A tension crackling in the air as England reluctantly stood down. 

‘’Sorry.’’ 

Scotland shrugged, smirking as he reeled in a struggling trout - its speckles shiny in the early light. ‘’Naw, it’s alright-’’ He held up the fish to England’s face, pride blooming a fire in his heart as he slowly unhooked it from the line. ‘’-Caught something. Shown you how it’s done.’’

‘’Get it away from me.’’ Scotland snorted, amused as England’s nose wrinkled with disgust (freckles dusted the bridge of his nose - and Wales’ too, and Scotland was struck at once with the heady, heavy realisation that they were his siblings). The trout was carefully placed into an ice box, still kicking as Scotland laid it out reverently - a bruise coiled tight in his chest as the chatter of his family continued to murmur in the background like mayflies. ‘’...Hey, you know what we should do?’’ He sat down, wincing something in his back twinged - bad memories dragged to the surface, like a cat with a mouse - and pulled out a small pocket-knife, blood spooling out of the fish as he began to cut it open. ‘’-Have dinner here? There’s plenty of wood for a fire and…England, you remember how to set a fire? Like I taught you? Remember?’’ Scotland asked hopefully as he looked up at his younger brother (hands folded around a pair of dry sticks, knees bent into a thick bed of pine-needles - finger outstretched in patient instruction). 

‘’Or I could use a lighter?’’ England replied, his voice curt (the snapping of twigs beneath his feet as they stalked one another like wolves; Circling in bitter enmity, kin’s blood on their palms). He fumbled with his pockets as Wales slowly stood up - wandering along the lakeshore, in search of dry wood for the fire. ‘’It’s not-’’ A lump rose in his throat, England choking on sentimentality as he scoffed, a defensive sneer on his face; Prickly and warring with thorns, swarthy red flowers as a flush rose up his neck, cowed by the purse of Wales’ lips and the raise of Scotland’s thick eyebrows, questioning his little brother’s stubbornness.

‘’Are you saying that because you’ve forgotten?’’ Wales hummed quietly, striding towards her brothers - armful of twigs and sticks of varying sizes, carefully chosen and carefully arranged in a small pyramid-ish shape. ‘’...I thought you didn’t carry lighters, Eng?’’ Wales replied softly, watching England grasp it between his thumb and index finger. ‘’You don’t like the fi-’’ A short, curt look - a flash of sparks in England’s eyes, and Wales bit her tongue ruefully. ‘’It’s not the olden days anymore.’’ He replied, fumbling the lighter out of his pocket; A shudder as he pressed the pad of his thumb down on the cool metal, taking a deep breath as something fearful inside England filled out the space in his lungs - a stone in his throat, smooth and icy and heavy. ‘’We’re not-’’ A spark, and England wavered (a deep chill set into his bones, a field turned barren - there would be no more crops, all the men and women and children were leaving; Seeking more fruitful land, somewhere where there wasn’t ash, smoke and cinders). ‘’We’re not like that anymore-!’’ He cried out, half-between laughter and frustration, crinkling the corners of his eyes as the lighter trembled in his fingers. ‘’Old fuck-’’ 

‘’Hey-’’ Scotland’s brows furrowed, heavy and thoughtful; Scales clung to his fingers, silvery in the little grey sunlight. ‘’-You forgot. What about it?’’ (Wreaths of smoke hung in the air, trepidation at the base of Scotland’s spine; Convoys of mumbling strangers, yet no England). 

‘’I didn’t forget.’’ 

‘’Aye, you did.’’ ‘’Would you piss off, you-’’ 

Wales couldn’t help, but snort with amusement - head jerking up towards the treeline, now gone plum-dark. Streaks of gold filtered against a pale pink sky, a blue haze steadily encroaching with the usual impatience of twilight. She had taught Scotland how to build a fire, and then he had passed those lessons onto England while she was away; Cinders at his fingertips, England had a faceful of smoke and coughing lungs by the time Wales had come back to find the aftermath of an argument - tempers had frayed, red-eyed and hissing curses as Scotland tightly bound the puckered, pale seam of a blister under his palm, England’s face drawn into a defiant glare - shot up from the summer grass like a startled rabbit, raw knees. Hot coals on freckled skin, thrown in an argument over what leaves to burn. It was the typical kind of argument that would soon become familiar, and in time - even endearing, before spats were traded for conflict, balled fists and hair-grabbing for swords and war-hammers. The air crackled with tension - a storm brewing between England and Scotland, frowns drawn like blades, and she was stuck between them again. ‘’Would you knock it off, you two?’’ Wales hissed between her teeth, scolding her young brothers - pulling them apart, sit in the corner and think about what you’ve just done - and when she looked at them, eyes flitting between England and Scotland, Wales felt a pang of heartache. Some things would never change. 

‘’England, you can prepare the fish; Scotland, deal with the fire.’’ Wales huffed quietly. ‘’I’m hungry.’’ A sidelong glance down towards the copse of woods, and she nodded resolutely. ‘’I’ll get some thyme, sage and rosemary. Please try not to kill each other, you hear?’’ She offered a lop-sided smile - anxiety thrumming beneath her skin as she slowly walked away, slipping into the cool shade of the woods; Twigs cracked beneath her footsteps, a tight coil of nerves sitting heavy in her chest as she drew in a deep breath. She just hoped they would listen to her - just one day of peace and quiet, just one day of the year with her brothers that didn’t make Wales want to scream (it would well up inside of her; Dragonsfire buried deep in mud). 

Lingering in the wake of Wales’ silence, England blinked slowly - and staggered to his feet with a grunt, muttering under his breath as he slowly deboned the fish with a practised ease of a man who’s been doing this for centuries. A sailor had taught him, sat on a pier with a grey sea churning beneath their feet - stone and timber and a sense of hope that England longed for. Scotland might have taught him to fish, but England remembered with a rueful smile the lessons passed on to him through mortal hands. ‘’I’ve heard birch bark is good for starting fires.’’ He piped up, glancing towards Scotland with a thoughtful smile. ‘’Don’t remember where I heard it from.’’ A steady plume of smoke had already started, trawling through the air in a lofty and lazy trail from the pile of dead leaves and sticks. ‘’I think you-’’ ‘’-I told you about that.’’ Scotland cleared his throat awkwardly. ‘’Nice that you remember.’’ A silence - filled in by the odd birdsong - crept in, uncomfortable and yet familiar (the woolly burr of an old blanket, drawn tight around their shoulders as they lay side by side - the crooked lean-to of their shelter and one another all that they needed). When Wales returned with sprigs of rosemary and thyme, they set about cooking the fish in a small frying pan from the boot of Scotland’s car. (‘’Why do you have that?’’ England had asked, incredulous and confused. ‘’Why not?’’ Scotland had responded - his tone manner of fact, offering no further explanation and certainly not wishing to admit that it had been France’s idea, hastily sequestered on him in case of a car breaking down on the side of the road; Leaving them both to subsist on poor quality petrol-station lunch). 

Once dinner was served, they sat in the cool glow of the dusky light - and for the first time in a long while, things were amicable between them.

[20skai]

Let Me Bear Your Burden

Wyll x Tav OC (Nemeia)

Wyll and Nemeia have a heart to heart about his true feelings being the Blade. She comforts him the best she can.

Tags: Angst, Fluff, feelings ✨some suggestive themes

Word Count: 1152

Nemeia wakes to thrashing about. Looking over she sees her bed mate, Wyll, with a grimace on his handsome face. Lowly muttering in his restless slumber. Not knowing what to do she begins to whisper soothing words and caresses to his cheek.

“Mizora. Father, help me. I need you! No!”

Wyll wakes with a start, sitting up from the bedroll. His heart threatens to burst out of his chest. Sweat is sticking to his forehead, torso, and limbs. Another nightmare. Godsdammit, he hoped he didn’t wake Nemeia. But to his shame he looks over to see her looking at him with concern. He turns away in self loathing, she’s always strong for everyone else why can’t he be strong for her?

“Wyll, do you need anything?” She threads her fingers through his and gives it a squeeze.

“No, I’m alright. Just a bad dream.”

A few moments of silence pass through them and Wyll hears her sit up beside him and places her other hand on his cheek to guide him back to face her.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He looks to the ground, feeling nothing but shame. He made the deal and has to live with the choice he made. But why does he feel so disquiet about it now? Wyll wants to talk but Nemeia is always lending her ear to everyone and helping with their problems. What kind of partner would he be if he dumped his troubles on her too?

Nemeia can feel the anxiety rolling off Wyll in waves. She thinks of what she can do to help unburden him. An idea makes its way into her mind, she takes his hand in her and places it under her sleep shirt. There, Wyll feels a long scar on her abdomen. Looking at her in shock he sees a small, awkward half smile on her face.

“This was given to me by a Sharran. I’ll spare you the gruesome details but suffice it to say I was traveling and they ambushed me. It still haunts me to this day and I still have nightmares about it. I say all of this to tell you that you can always talk to me about anything. I care for you so deeply and I want to help if I can.”

Listening to her story has Wyll in a flurry of emotions. Anger, hurt, but most of all relief. Relief that she’s still here, still alive and with him. He pushes her to lay down on the bedroll and lifts her sleep shirt just high enough to see her wound. Gazing at the scar he sees the slightly jagged edges and can’t help himself to kiss the wound.

A gasp leaves Nemeia at the feeling of Wyll’s lips on her skin. His lips are soft and warm and only make her squirm in a strange mix of need and bashfulness. Continuing to kiss her abdomen Wyll looks up to his love’s face and sees the cute blush that formed on her cheeks, eyes closed and her bottom lip between her teeth. He shows mercy and stops to move his face up to hers, caressing her cheek he then places a gentle kiss to her lips.

Rolling off of her, Wyll lays back down on their shared bedroll and brings her body with him and holds Nemeia in his arms. She has her head on his chest and listens to the slightly elevated heartbeat right under her. A few minutes of silence goes by as the couple just hold one another.

“I feel that I’m a fraud.” Wyll begins. “When I made the deal with Mizora it was to save the Gate, my home. But now? I feel like I’m fooling the people of the Coast. They see me as a hero. A person to slay their monsters and protect them and their families. But I’m no better than the vermin who prey on them. How heroic can I be, being bound to a devil?”

Nemeia lays there contemplating what Wyll has just confessed to her. She feels sadness that Wyll believes himself to be a fraud and a feeling of anger almost takes hold because his words are a consequence of the years of abuse from his patron. But she stamps that down. No, he doesn’t need her thinking she’s angry at him in this vulnerable moment.

“You’re not a fraud, Wyll. You protect the people of the Coast because they needed a hero. You continue to be the Blade because you’ve grown to care and love them. I will not begrudge you for making the pact because in that moment it was the best option you had to save the people of Baldur’s Gate. And even still, after all these years, you still stick to your principles and morals, even though it would have been easier to abandon them.”

Nemeia lifts herself up off Wyll’s chest and looks him in his eyes with as much tenderness as she can muster. “I know my words won’t change how you feel overnight. But I want you to know I adore you and I’m with you until the end. And whenever you start to feel like this, don't hesitate to talk to me, I’m here to help you share your burden.”

Feelings of gratefulness and appreciation blossom throughout Wyll’s heart. This woman, his woman, is too good to him but he will spend every day of his life being the man she deserves. Pulling Nemeia back to his chest he strokes her back with one hand and holds her hand in the other. Contentment and affection swirl around the two as they bask in the silence of the room.

“I adore you too, Nemeia. Thank you for being strong and believing in me. And being just wonderfully you.”

Chuckling, the tiefling woman places a kiss to his chest and looks up with a cheeky smile. “Of course I’m me. Who else would I be?”

A short laugh escapes Wyll’s throat and he starts to tickle Nemeia’s side. She gives a squeal and begins to laugh; she begs for him to stop while trying to squirm out of his grip. A happy grin has made its way onto the warlock’s face basking in the happiness she brings into his life.

Ceasing his tickle-fueled assault, Wyll admires Nemeia coming back down from her laughter. Once her laughs die down to small chuckles he brings his hand to her cheek and delights in the way she nuzzles into his palm. He kisses her slowly and tenderly hoping it conveys how lucky he feels to have her. Seeing the same emotions reflected back to him in her eyes, Wyll brings Nemeia back to lay on his chest. The couple again settles down for the night to sleep and no nightmares plague either of them. Just happy dreams of a bright future ahead with each other.

[saintship]

Hey I just wanted to request something real quick and if your not comfortable with doing so don't worry about it 🫶🫶

I've been having so much dysphoria lately and I was thinking about an idea where Price had kept in contact with a trans/non-binary teenager they saved a while back and for when in times they needed help with anything Price gave them his number. So reader has been having a huge dysphoric dip and the stress of school has just been way to much on them lately so they called him up and asked for help. (Assuming reader now lives close to their base.) He drives over and just comforts them and let's them know it's okay and he'll always be their biggest supporter.

I've just been craving some good fluffy comfort with Price and again if you're not comfortable with writing this don't worry its absolutely fine. Have a great day/night 🫶

I’m back!

HI IM SORRRYYYYYYY I PROMISE IM NOT ABANDONING THIS BLOG

And to this anon, I hope you’re alright and just know my blog is a place to be you and you're so cool and rad and awesome :)

I just need you

platonic!Price & trans!reader

Some things just don’t go away. The tugging at your skin, stretching as far up and away from your body as you can, the pacing, the staring. It subsides and returns like a rough coastline, traveling everywhere all at once and yet never reaching anything at all.

It was the night you almost died, fittingly, that you truly started appreciating your own. Trapped in a dead end, several figures closing in fast. You heard their radio crackle with a message to capture instead of kill, and couldn’t process which was worse. It all seemed to blur together from then, until you were tucked into yourself, your head between your knees. You felt a hand at your shoulder, which you scrambled away from.

“Woah, hey..”

A gentle voice made you lift your head ever so slightly, seeing a face you didn’t recognize. The shapes lying still behind him proved he’d taken care of your problem.

“Are you hurt?”

Your words felt caught in your ribcage, a fluttering swarm gathering where your courage should be. You shook your head for the negative.

You simply continued to study him, his gentle eyes, the thread of his beanie, his flag patch.

“Right..” He adjusted his feet, now kneeling down fully on one knee. “It would really help me if you could come to the base so I can get you home, okay? It’s not safe here.”

His eyes searched yours with a reverence that confused you to no end. But you nodded.

“Okay..”

“Okay.” His lips twitched gently into a momentary smile before he helped you to your feet.

The base was cold inside, the walls blank and halls narrow, but he kept a hand on your shoulder from the car to his office, the warmth of his palm soothing.

He'd gotten you home safe, talked with your folks, and given you his office number after many attempts of you refusing.

"Call me. Anytime."

So you did. Most of the time, it was you who wanted to know about his life. Military propaganda be damned, with every phone call you were more inclined to hear more about him and his team, which you were both intimidated by and dying to see in person. The first time you called him for a different reason, you couldn't breathe.

"Hey, kid."

"Price.." His name caught in your throat, another wave of adrenaline shooting up your spine. Your room seemed too small, the floor too abrasive, the air too thick.

"Hey, what's wrong? Do I need to come get you?"

"No..no, I.." You huff, angry at your inability to speak. The frustration only built into the trembling of your hands.

"It's too much..everything...I'm going fucking crazy, I can't take this anymore.." Your voice cracked, and embarrassment flashed over your expression. "Price.."

"You need to breathe. Please. Open your eyes, listen to me."

You hadn't realized your eyes were screwed shut until his words encouraged you to open them gingerly, small spots dotting your vision from the strain.

"I know. I know.. listen, you don't have it easy, no question. But your life's only just started. Do your hear me?"

"Yes.."

"Good. Breathe just like that. It's going to be okay, kid, I've got you."

You breathe shakily, nodding even though he can't see you.

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Come outside."

You blinked for a moment before hanging up, forcing your legs to carry you to and out the front door. There he was. Sitting against one of those company-issued trucks that he definitely shouldn't be using for this. For you. But he did.

You don't bother with shoes, your socks largely protecting you from the cold pavement as you walk briskly to him. Before you can bother asking permission, he's got you in his arms, rocking you slowly.

"S'alright.." His voice is softer than it's ever been.

"I didn't mean to bother you, I just-"

"Oi. None of that." He replies immediately, pulling back to rest a hand at the side of your head. "I stayed in touch for a reason. You're a good kid, you deserve someone to call when you get like this, you hear me?"

You nod, too emotional at his words to speak without more tears flowing, before collapsing back into his arms.

"Oh, kid.." he hugs you tightly, letting you take the time to hold onto him.

"I'll always support you. With everything you want to be, and everything you go through. I'm here."