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ellecdc · 1 day ago

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hi!! i recently discovered your blog and i'm afraid you've singlehandedly brought back my harry potter hyperfixation. i didn't even know moonwater/darksun wasn't a thing until your posts ... i've been so out of loop

i was wondering if you could write about moonwater and a reader who's too nice for her own good. regulus being in a secret relationship with reader and remus, seeing reader being bullied and trying to teach her how to be scary or fight back but she's too adorable for it. so he just says fuck it and hard launches their relationship by walking her everywhere to scare away her bullies himself

such a cute prompt - thank you for your request! I hope I did it justice <3

poly!moonwater x whimsical!reader who's too sweet for her own good [1.1k words]

CW: fem!reader, reader is from Ravenclaw, her housemates are sort of bullying her, the boys are protective, Regulus threatens pain and torture, hard launching an up-until-then private relationship, fluff

“Dovie,” Remus cooed in that way that Regulus could tell he was sort of trying to be chiding but really couldn’t bring himself to be as stern as he wanted to be, “where is your scarf?”

You paused in shucking off your robes to look down at your scarfless frame as though you’d only just realised it was missing. “Oh, well, it wasn’t on the coat rack that I normally leave it on when I was getting ready for class this morning.” You explained breezily. “So I just left without it.”

“Do you have any idea where it could be?” Regulus asked carefully as he fought against the protective ire threatening to bubble over; daring to draw closer to you in the privacy of one of the study rooms that the three of you often secluded yourselves in.

The relationship was new - not tentative, yet delicate - and Regulus wasn’t exactly ready to welcome the attention that being a Black and a Slytherin could draw to what he deemed to be quite precious.

“No, but it has the habit of showing up in the most peculiar places.” You replied, ever present smile adorning your face as Remus and Regulus shared a sympathetic and concerned gaze over your head, respectively.

“Like where, amour?” Regulus pressed.

Your lips pursed as you considered him. “One time it was hanging from the rafters in the great hall; that was very tricky to get down. Oh! And another time, it was wrapped in a bow around a pot of venomous tentacula; very cute, but the plant did nip at me when I tried to retrieve it.”

“Sweetheart,” Remus cooed again as he sat forward in his chair, clearly feeling very sorry on your behalf, “who keeps doing that?”

Your brows furrowed at Remus’ obvious displeasure. “Well, I’m sure it’s probably my housemates? They have easy enough access to my things.”

“Things?” Regulus interjected. “Plural? They do this to your other stuff too?”

“Oh, all the time.” You agreed simply.

“And you let them?” He continued, earning him a reproachful “Regulus…” from Remus.

“Well,” you offered with a shrug of your shoulders, “they seem to have fun doing it.”

“No, absolutely not.” Regulus declared as he stood. “Amour, stand up, we’re putting an end to this.”

“An end to this?” You asked curiously, though you stood as Regulus directed you to, allowing him to position you in the middle of the room.

“Pretend I’m your roommates.” He instructed, fixing his robes and standing straighter as he ignored Remus’ snort of laughter who simply watched with intrigue. “Tell me to keep my filthy fucking hands off of your godsdamned things.”

You pulled your lips in between your teeth as you looked at Remus nervously. “Erm…could, well, could you please keep your…filthy fucking hands off of my things…please?”

“Amour,” Regulus chastised, “stop saying please. Don’t say please.”

“Well, it’s just that it’s a little rude, Regulus.” You explained as though Regulus might not have known.

“I know it’s rude, amour. That’s what happens when people steal your things, yeah?”

“They’re not stealing my things.” You argued. “They…borrow them; I get them back eventually.”

“Yeah? Remus, do you often have to fight venomous tentacula’s for your things?”

“Not once.” Remus answered quickly, keeping his interested gaze on you.

“No? Why’s that?”

Remus shrugged. “I’d probably be very rude to them if anyone tried to steal my things.”

“You’re not rude, Remus.” You insisted, causing Remus’ teasing smile to soften to near painful levels. Regulus thought it was disgusting adorable.

“I’m not rude to you, dovie. But you also don’t steal my things or play mean pranks on me.”

Your face fell somewhere between bemused and crestfallen. “You think they’re being mean to me?”

A pained sound actually emanated from the back of Remus’ throat.

“Well…I don’t think they’re being very nice to you, mon cœur.” Regulus offered softly, shooting a grimace over at Remus.

“Well…why would I want to be rude like them, then?” You asked honestly, and Salazar’s saggy balls, if Regulus didn’t completely agree with you.

“You know what, amour? You’re absolutely right.” He agreed; lips threatening to turn up at the corners at your relieved smile.

“Well, hang on.” Remus started. “What are we going to do about her things?”

“Salazar help me, if you don’t tell me where the fuck you’ve put her scarf I will have you chained to the bottom of the Black Lake so godsdamned fast, Merlin himself won’t be able to help you.” Regulus hissed, one hand fisting the collar of a beady-eyed Ravenclaw and one hand shoving the tip of his wand into the bloke's jugular.

“It-it’s hanging in the Hippogriff pen!” He offered quickly, struggling in Regulus’ grip.

“Good lad.” Remus offered patronisingly from behind Regulus. “Now go get it for her.”

Regulus released his hold on the bloke's collar the second he nodded, and the Ravenclaw couldn’t have taken off towards the Beast's classroom faster if he had tried.

“Anyone else have any of Y/N’s things they’d like to cough up before we come looking for them?” Remus asked jovially, smiling at the cautious crowd that had formed when they heard Regulus Black and Remus Lupin of all people were on a warpath.

“Uhm,” a witch squeaked as she stepped towards you, keeping her nervous eyes pointed at your boyfriends, “sorry, L/N…I, erm, I seem to have come across your History of Magic textbook.”

You smiled as though she was handing you a gift. “Thank you, Clarissa; I kept getting detention for showing up to class without it.”

Regulus was sure Remus could actually hear Regulus’ teeth clench from his place beside him, but Remus simply placed a placating hand on his elbow.

“If I so much as see you even looking at her things again, Clarissa-”

“You won’t!” Clarissa yelped, interrupting the end of Regulus’ threat before taking off down the hallway.

“Do you have all of your things now, dove?” Remus asked after you, watching you look down at the book in your hands.

“Almost, but I’m sure the rest of my things will start showing up now.” You responded happily. Remus nodded in agreement, Regulus narrowed his eyes at the surrounding crowd as if threatening ‘they better’.

The relationship was new - not tentative, yet delicate - and Regulus hadn’t been quite ready to welcome the attention that being a Black and a Slytherin could draw to what he deemed to be quite precious.

But if welcoming the attention that being a Black and a Slytherin could draw is what it took to keep you happy and safe, well, he was more than willing to pull out all the stops for his sweet and too-pure-for-her-own-good girlfriend.

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mysteryshoptls · 2 days ago

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SSR Floyd Leech - Room Relaxation Voice Lines

Don't know how I'll feel the day of, but... Right now, I'm super lookin' forward to my birthday tomorrow!

Summon: You're givin' me a present this early in the morning? Nice, that's usin' your noggin. Now, let me just take a peek inside...

Groovification: Nothin' like gettin' a pair of shoes into tip-top shape. Somehow they end up feelin' like they fit better, too.

Home: What should I do today～?

Swap Looks: Ahah, that's some crazy bedhead!

Home Transition 1: I wonder how old these snacks are. Sometimes I end up not interested in 'em after buyin' 'em, so they pile up before I realize.

Home Transition 2: Seabream-kun said he'd take some rad pics of me for my birthday. Wonder how they'll turn out?

Home Transition 3: My pops said to tell him one thing I want for my birthday. He said it could be anything I want, but there's no way I can pick something out ahead of time.

Home Transition - Login: What do I do on my birthdays? Sometimes I'll throw a huge party with a buncha people, sometimes I'll just spend it alone in my room... Guess it depends on my mood at the time.

Home Transition - Groovy: I'm gettin' a present from that Sea Slug-senpai, y'know... There's no way it'll not be a hoot!

Home Tap 1: When I'm in my room, at least, I wanna wear more comfy clothes～ But even then, I'd rather be stark naked than wear anything lame, though.

Home Tap 2: I asked Sea Lion-senpai for a present, and he just said to take some sand from Savanaclaw and leave. No thanks～

Home Tap 3: It's not the end of the world to listen to Jade rabble on and on about the mountains sometimes. Like, whenever I'm wide awake, it helps put me to sleep like that.

Home Tap 4: Jellyfish-chan was tellin' me about some birthday tradition they got in Briar Valley. Kinda cool hearin' about something that's completely different than what we do back home.

Home Tap 5: What's up, Shrimpy-chan, you got a gift for me? Eh, I already got it? Mmmmmmmm......... Nope, I don't remember at all.

Home Tap - Groovy: If I just put everything in it's proper place, my room'll be easier to keep clean? Ehhhhh, but that ain't fun at all.

Duo: [FLOYD]: Sea Slug-senpai, you givin' me a gift? [MALLEUS]: If that is what you desire, Leech.

Birthday Login Message: Eh, you brought me a birthday gift? Shrimpy-chan, you're the best! Wish others'd take a page outta your book～ Those guys in the Basketball Club are the worst. I was just checkin' with them, making sure they didn't forget my birthday, and you know what Sea Snake-kun said? He said that there's no way he'd forget a day that'd end up being more trouble than it's worth for him if he did. That sent Crab-chan into a fit of laughs, too. Oh yeahhh, come to think of it, I still haven't gotten my gifts from 'em yet. Think I'll start if off by heading off to Crab-chan's place first.

Requested by @thelonepearl and @sakurakudo.

#twisted wonderland #twst #floyd leech #malleus draconia #twst floyd #twst malleus #twst translation #twst birthday #mention: cater #mention: malleus #mention: leona

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werevampiwolf · 2 days ago

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Yeah. At 19, I was finally diagnosed with autism and as unable to live independently without years of occupational therapy and my mother said "fuck that" and threw me out of the house two days later. She'd fought the doctors my entire life to stopbe from being diagnosed, because then that would mean there was something "wrong" with me.

I was homeless for over a year. I'm no longer homeless, mostly due to getting very very lucky with circumstances outside my control (like the fact that I was young enough and had been homeless long enough while continuing to take classes at the local community college to qualify for a government grant for Unaccompanied Homeless Youth, which allowed me to get an apartment. And i was only able to take classes because I was poor enough that the classes were free, and because i had a broken laptop and it never got stolen AND i already knew how to fix computers so I was about to Franken-Computer it into it being and staying at least slightly usable AND the fact that the nearest Starbucks was understanding and didn't throw me out or call the cops when I spent hours in there to do coursework), so my mother takes this as a win. Obviously, the doctor must have been wrong because when I was forced to sink or swim, I've stayed alive (very literally in this case).

I would argue that even now, going on a decade later, I'm not so much "living on my own" as I am "barely surviving", but I try to make it very clear, both to her and to people I tell this story to, that the problem with "Sink or Swim" is that people who sink fucking DROWN.

Because even as someone who was forced, and who managed to just barely keep my head above the water... I'm a very staunch opponent to the idea of Sink or Swim. What I had to live through was horrible, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone else. But not only that, I was very acutely aware that my only options were to figure it out or to quite literally Die.

As someone who survived the extreme of the other side of this coin that OP is talking about... the idea that I or anyone else could manage to survive such circumstances and then turn around and insist that the ends justify the means is both baffling and appalling to me, though I know that it very much happens. I cannot see it as anything other than "I suffered, so you should have to suffer too." It's awful to be on either side of this coin, and if you think it's okay for force people to Sink or Swim, whether you've been in that situation or not, than you can fuck right off with that shit.

Side note, I'm someone with support needs on the higher end of medium. I still can't manage to brush my teeth independently, and I don't manage to feed myself consistently, though I at least manage to do it often enough to get enough calories in me to stay alive (and that's ignoring anything other than calories that make up a healthy and balanced diet, because that's not an option for me. It's eat whatever junk food I manage to get into my my mouth or starve). I have to rely on schedules, because my brain doesn't really understand what hunger feels like. I just eventually feel like I'm going to throw up, and if I'm lucky, my brain figures out that I haven't eaten in all day and that's probably why. But there are days when, even if you put a plate of food in front of me, it wouldn't occur to me to eat it. I will just sit there and stare at it (or into space) without outside promoting to eat. I maybe manage to take out the trash or do laundry every two weeks if I lucky, and sometimes it's only once a month, or less. I have plastic bottles that haven't been taken out in at least six months, and probably closer to a year. Perhaps the only reason I can see the other side of this coin is because I basically live as close to edge as is physically possible without going over the edge, but I really hope that's not it. I don't think people should have to be constantly teetering on the knife-edge of this reality to understand that It's Really Fucking Bad to force people to Sink or Swim, or as I prefer to call it, Survive Or Die.

I don’t think people understand how it is to have been behind on EVERY milestone. Learning how to walk? Late. Learning to read? Late. Learning to use the bathroom independently? Late. Every single milestone was late.

And when you have this, people ask questions. People bully you. Why can’t you shower by yourself at 9,10,15,20? Why can’t you brush your teeth independently and frequently? Why can’t you tie your shoes? Why can’t you do math? Why can’t you do this, or that.

And then there’s the people on social media. “Well I was forced to.” “Well I didn’t have a choice” and that’s understandable and completely valid, but there are people that no matter how much you force them, or neglect them so they “figure it out” they won’t “figure it out”. They’ll die. They’ll starve. They’ll not bathe and be dirty.

Higher support needs people don’t just “figure it out” our brains are wired differently. Our brains don’t get that we HAVE to do these things just to survive. So we don’t. And that sucks.

It’s disheartening to constantly hear people say “well i was forced to” because so was I!! I was forced to do things too! I was neglected too! And guess what? I still didn’t do those things. I STILL wasn’t able to meet those milestones.

The big one that I see is “well I’m forced to talk.” And I get that, but me, a person that’s nonverbal, can’t be forced to talk. No matter if I’m neglected, no matter if my device is taken away or I have no way of communication. I still wouldn’t be able to talk. I CANNOT force myself to talk. Get that through your heads. This is my reality, and although yours sucked there are still some people who cannot do things, and saying that they could if they were “forced” is invalidating of them.

#tldr as someone who just barely managed to Swim instead of Sinking #i wholeheartedly agree with OP

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ckret2 · 21 hours ago

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Chapter 81 of human Bill Cipher not enjoying being the Mystery Shack's prisoner but being even less keen on being the government's prisoner: the feds are snooping around the shack, nobody likes this, and so a family meeting is called to discuss how to send them packing.

####

"I just kept telling him I didn't know anything," said Soos. He was slumped bonelessly on the couch, wiping his sweaty forehead with his sleeve and holding a soda in one shaky hand. "I accidentally said I don't know anything when he asked where he could get lunch in town!"

"You did good, Soos," Stan said. "That's how you handle feds—don't tell 'em anything."

Stan and Ford had called a household meeting, and now everyone was packed into the living room: Soos and the kids on the couch, Stan and Abuelita in the armchairs, Bill and Wendy at the living room table, and Ford out in the entryway so he could pace.

(Everyone was wearing deely boppers. Mabel had had a very productive day.)

Even Waddles and Gompers had been dragged to the mandatory meeting. Gompers had already eaten the pink pompoms off Waddle's deely boppers and was now trying to eat the hem of Dipper's shorts while Dipper tried to push him back from touching the sunburns on his legs.

"What are we gonna do?" Dipper asked. "Last year these guys tried to arrest Stan, and he was still using a fake name back then—so now, the agents could be after Stan or Ford."

"Dial back the pessimism. Right now, they're not after anybody," Bill said. "They're just following up on the eclipse from last week." And a tip about somebody dangerous in the shack. Bill pushed those worries aside. "They don't have any reason to come back!"

"Except the flash drive," Soos said. "Which they know is here. Inside the shack. Cuz they sensed it."

"Right. Yep. Except that," Bill said. "Hey, Dolores—howsabout you whip up one of your special 'welcome to the shack' dinners for them? I'm sure they'd enjoy it just as much as I did."

Dolores nodded thoughtfully. (The tiny sleigh bells on her deely boppers jingles.) "I could," she said. "But what would we do with the bodies?"

"We've got the perfect in-house body disposal! Chop 'em up and feed 'em to the pig."

"Nooo!" Mabel flung her arms protectively over Waddles. He oinked neutrally. "We're not feeding people to Waddles!"

"He'd probably love it!"

"Uh-uh."

"Fine, then the gnomes," Bill said.

Ford said, "Let's call murder 'Plan B.'"

Bill rolled his eye. "All right, smart guy, what's Plan A?"

Ford didn't immediately reply. He paced for another few seconds in the entryway, gathering his thoughts. "There are three ways this could end badly. We have to find a way to prevent all of them," he finally said. "One: the agents discover that there's something under the house and find the portal. Two: the agents remember there's something under the house, and realize they've been brainwashed. Three: the agents retrieve their flash drive, and that reminds them something's under the house."

Stan added, "And if any of those happens, we're both going to jail. Probably Soos too, as an accomplice. Kids might even be in trouble for escaping custody last year." Dipper and Mabel exchanged an alarmed look.

Bill looked at Wendy. "Hey, look who's off the hook." He held up a hand.

"Woo-hoo!" She high-fived him. "We'll visit the rest of you guys in jail."

Mournfully, Mabel asked, "If we get arrested, can you send me crayons?"

"I'll get you one of those boxes with a hundred crayons," Bill said. "And hide a shank in that yellowy green one you never use."

"Thanks."

But if any of those three scenarios came true, that meant government agents crawling all over Bill's portal. Best case scenario, it'd end up halfway across the country in a secret military base. There was tech left in the wreck in the basement that couldn't possibly be synthesized using Earth's current technology, and the Trilazzx Betian ship didn't have backup parts for all of them.

And that wasn't even taking that anonymous tip into account...

"I shouldn't have to go to jail," Ford grumbled. "I wasn't behind the crimes committed in my name, Stanley was."

"Hey," Stan said, "you're the one who impersonated a government agent! Besides, did you really not commit any crimes while building your dumb portal?"

Ford winced. "What's the statute of limitations on burgling radioactive waste?"

"Don't worry, Mothman," Bill called. (Ford self-consciously adjusted his deely boppers, which had paper moths taped to the ends.) "I tossed most of the incriminating evidence in the bottomless pit while you were asleep!"

"Wh— Is that where my lockpicking kit went?!"

"Haha, yeah!" Bill had bought Keyhole's loyalty for the next three hundred years with that.

Wendy waved a hand between Bill and Ford to interrupt their banter. "We can probably keep them from discovering the portal by just not giving them a reason to look behind the vending machine, right?"

"And if we keep them from getting Gompers, they won't get the flash drive," Dipper said.

Mabel said, "What if we put him on a plane to Japan! Do you wanna go to Japan, Gompers?"

Gompers looked at Mabel impassively.

"It's no good," Abuelita said. "It will take weeks to get a passport for the goat."

"Aww."

"There are plenty of ways we can keep their hands off the drive," Ford said. "We could just hide Gompers underground, for instance—there's no way their sensors can reach that far.

Oh no, not when it was clear someone had been down there tinkering with the portal. "Do that and they'll know we did something to hide it! We'll never get rid of them then."

"True," Ford sighed.

Bill said. "I'm most worried about them remembering something on their own. The agents mentioned the portal's gravitational anomalies from last summer—are they remembering something they shouldn't, or did you leave them with those memories?"

Ford hesitated, glancing uncertainly at Stan. Stan shrugged.

"Oh, right. You aren't the expert on how the memory gun operates." Bill rolled his eye toward Wendy. "You see how helpless he is without me around to feed him information?"

"Pshh, shut up. Keep me out of your weird old people academic grudge."

Dryly, Ford said, "Care to enlighten us with your superior knowledge, o god of wisdom?"

No, he really didn't. Not for Ford, anyway. He wouldn't even be grateful for it.

But, under the circumstances—knowing that the agents were after him, too... "Oh, why not," Bill said. "What did you enter in the gun? The exact wording."

Ford frowned, glancing toward the ceiling as he concentrated. "It was... I didn't know exactly how much they knew—I didn't even know which names they knew Stan under—so I tried to make it as broad as possible. I think it said something like 'Pines Household's Secrets'?"

Bill thought that over. "Okay. Okay, yeah, that works. That's perfect, actually—best answer you could have given. You never disappoint, IQ."

Ford was visibly unmoved by the flattery (which was just as well, because Bill had given it out of habit as he slid back into the role of teacher, and had immediately regretted it). "And I suppose you're going to explain why that wording is so important."

"I could," Bill said. "Do you want to know?"

Ford glowered at Bill, lips pressed together in a thin line. Bill stared back, brows arched expectantly. (Wendy looked between the two of them and snorted. Bill pushed her without breaking eye contact with Ford.)

Mabel said, "I wanna know."

"Good enough for me!" Bill hopped from his seat and crossed the living room to a spot where he could address the group more easily. "The memory gun doesn't actually destroy memories, it just severs the connections between those memories and the rest of the brain. Like snipping a squid's tentacles to free it from a squid king."

"What's a squid king?" Soos asked.

"It's like a rat king made of giant squid. It takes at least four to qualify because if their tentacles are knotted in a circle that's just a squid ring," Bill said. "So! Usually you find your own memories by their relationship to other memories. Driving by the grocery store reminds you that you need to go shopping, which reminds you that you're out of straws, which reminds you of when your doctor's eye got gouged out, which reminds you of those vampires in the library, which reminds you of that book you need to return, yadda yadda."

Stan said, "Wait, your doctor got what—?"

"He was fine, he had it coming, and I was nowhere nearby."

"And how's that get you to vampires?!"

"The tangy taste of blood left in your straw. Please hold any other questions to the end!" Bill said. "But, since the memory gun severs a memory from the ones connected to it, you can't be indirectly reminded of it—the chain's been broken. But the memory'sstill there. All it takes is a direct reminder to recall it, and then it starts reattaching to your other memories. Everyone with me so far?" He directed the question in Mabel's direction.

Mabel nodded. Ford opened his mouth to ask a question.

"Great," Bill said. "But! What gets severed is determined by whatever you programmed into the gun. So, for example, if you run into a vampire in the library, then get shot with a memory gun programmed with the word 'Vampires,' there's no more jumping from your doctor to that late book! And you won't remember your vampire encounter if you wander around the library—at most, you might get a sense of deja vu—but you will get back your memory of the whole thing if you run into another vampire!"

He nodded toward Ford. "So 'Pines household's secrets is the best phrase you could've picked. It means they forgot any Pines secrets—including Stanley's criminal record—any household secrets—including the machine in the basement—and since they only forgot the 'secrets,' they can run into anything that isn't secret without recovering their severed memories—like, say, the entire upstairs of the shack."

Slowly, Ford said, "Then that's why they remember last year's gravitational anomalies. The cause is one of our secrets, but the anomalies themselves aren't a secret—they're a matter of public record."

"Bingo," Bill said. "Well! That should be simple enough. Any questions?"

Mabel raised a hand.

Bill pointed at her. "Yes!"

"Are there vampires at the library?"

"Not anymore!"

"Aw."

Dipper asked, "Did you murder your doctor with a straw?"

"I did not and I won't be taking any more questions on the topic, it was a very traumatic experience" for the patient who went in after Bill.

Stan asked, "Why are you wearing a bedsheet for a skirt."

"Because somebody—" Bill shot Soos a dark look, "grabbed all my perfectly clean clothes for laundry day, and left me with a bedsheet and one dirty t-shirt."

Soos chuckled sheepishly. "Whoops. Sorry, dude."

Ford grudgingly raised a hand.

Bill grudgingly said, "What."

"Are squid kings real."

"Yes. As of last summer there were seven with at least fifty giant squid, but two were negotiating a merger so it might be six by now. I haven't had a chance to check!"

"Negotiating a merger? Do—do they combine voluntarily?"

"Oh, sure. In droves. It's a huge honor! The one I'm friends with says the psychic powers are totally worth the eventual zombification—they're ninety percent undead now and haven't regretted it once in five hundred years."

Ford opened his mouth, got stuck between three questions, and didn't manage to settle on one before Abuelita raised a hand.

Bill's attention switched to her. "Yes!"

With an air of patience unwarranted by Bill's actions, Abuelita asked, "Why are you standing on my TV."

Bill looked down. So he was. "This is my lecture podium."

Abuelita's eyes narrowed. Bill cheerfully ignored her. "Any questions about the memory gun?"

There was a general murmured agreement that, no, that part had been pretty clear. Stan snapped, "Now get off the TV."

As Bill hopped down and caught his balance, Wendy said, "So... as long as they don't know any of the shack's secrets and we get the flash drive out of Gompers before they're back, we're cool, right? We can just erase their files and say 'hey, sorry, the goat pooped this out, totally not our fault.' If they don't remember anything, it's not like they've got a reason to keep investigating the shack."

Bill tried to imagine how they'd react if he told them someone had anonymously reported him to the agents. What if they decided scapegoating him could protect the rest of them from the investigation? (And was he sure it wasn't someone in the room who'd reported him?) "Yep! Pretty much! That'd solve our problems!"

"Okay," Wendy said. "Great. So... we're good, right?"

The room studied each other uneasily, everyone waiting for someone else to answer. "Yes," Ford said unconvincingly. "We're good. Er—kids, we need to... discuss the details of... how to handle this. You don't need to stick around." He looked at Stan. Stan gave him a slight nod. (It made the googly eyes on his deely boppers wiggle.)

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a glance. Dipper said, "Are you sure? We could..."

"I'm sure. Maybe you should go upstairs," Ford said. "Leave Gompers here."

Mabel sat up straighter, preparing to argue, and glanced toward Bill; but when Bill shrugged rather than ready to defend her, she sighed and poked Dipper. "C'mon." ("Ow." He pushed her finger away from his sunburned arm.) They left reluctantly, Mabel escorting Waddles along with her.

Ford tilted his head toward the door. "That means you too, Miss Corduroy. Hup hup."

Wendy groaned. "Fine." She slid out of her seat and headed for the door. "Hey Goldie, let me know if anything interesting happens."

"You got it, cool girl."

Soos raised a hand. "Am I one of the kids?"

"Not today," Ford said.

"Aw."

Sensing a change in the atmosphere, Abuelita got to her feet. "I will get dinner started." She shuffled out of the room.

Bill waited until the door shut behind Wendy and he was sure the kids were upstairs; and then asked, "So are we kicking the kids out for the reason I think?"

"Afraid so. Now that the government knows the flash drive is here, they'll be back with a warrant as soon as possible. We can't waste any time." Ford knelt next to Gompers and pulled out a scalpel. "Somebody hold the goat down."

"Whoa!" Stan jumped to his feet. His deely bopper googly eyes rattled in alarm. "Were you just carrying that around?!"

Bill was abruptly reminded of one of the reasons he'd liked Ford. He squatted next to him. "All right, I can see where the drive's lodged, I can tell you where to cut—"

"Dudes!" Soos flung himself across Gompers. 'You can't cut him open! He's like part of the family! He's been eating out of the shack's garbage for years, does that mean nothing to you?!" (Gompers attempted to eat the foam lightning bolts off Soos's deely boppers.)

Bill groaned. "Come on, who cares?! It's not like he's a person anymore!"

The room stared at Bill. Stan said, "Did you say 'anymore'?"

Bill paused. "Forget I said that."

Ford sighed. "Fine, we'll try to find a solution without surgery." (But, Bill thought, he sounded a little disappointed.) "But if we're using a slower method, the agents might be back before we can retrieve the flash drive. We need a way to stop them from finding it."

"Or from finding the door behind the vending machine," Soos said. "Now that they know the drive's been here, they're gonna keep looking until they find it! What if they think it might've fallen behind the vending machine or something?"

"What we need is a distraction," Stan said. "Something that'll keep 'em from searching the shack too thoroughly."

"And ideally, something that will keep them from coming back," Ford said. "They keep returning to Gravity Falls because of the power surges and related gravity anomalies in town, correct? Obviously, the meteor shower story wasn't convincing enough. If we give them an explanation that lets them close the case completely..."

Which was all well and good, except they weren't just looking for power surges and gravity hiccups anymore. They thought somebody in the shack was a threat to national security. Bill had kept suspicion away from himself for the day by pretending to be a tourist, but if the eagles got serious, that wouldn't last long. If they were watching the shack, they'd realize Bill was a resident; and if they tried to investigate him at all, they'd quickly realize they couldn't find any legal records of his existence. Not to put too fine a point on it, but the Theraprism's reincarnation machine hadn't given him the right skin color to get away with that in this country, especially during a witch hunt for a suspected terrorist.

And, worse—what if they did identify him?

He'd heard Agent Trigger say Soos's alien keychains resembled the "real thing." The Bureau of Covert Investigations didn't tell all its agents about all its cases—but it sounded like these two had been to Hangar 618 at least once.

So had Bill.

Over 60 years ago, a military experiment had accidentally ripped open a very small hole to the Nightmare Realm. Not big enough for Bill to squeeze his full self through (HA! Not even close), but big enough to project a hologram through—something solid enough for the soldiers who'd detected the temporary rift to see and touch. And, naturally, they'd hauled his hologram to Hangar 618—the five-sensed suckers thought the projection was his real body—where they hid all their unidentified fallen objects.

It had been fun! He'd gotten to use all his army name puns (Major Pain, General Disarray, Private Shame, etc.), he'd lived out a centuries-old dream of snorting a line of gunpowder, he'd gotten Commander I-Don't-Even-Know-'Er to sing "On Top of Spaghetti" in exchange for Bill agreeing to leave the artillery room, he'd learned a dirty joke from the nurse brought in to assist with his vivisection, he'd introduced himself to half the base...

He'd introduced himself.

Somewhere, probably in some redacted appendix to Project Blue Book, the US military had a file on Bill Cipher—and so did the eagles. They knew his name. Hell, they even had his thumbprints—obviously alien thumbprints, that he'd retained when he reincarnated. Every object in the shack he'd ever touched carried the proof that he was Bill Cipher.

If whoever had sent the Bureau a tip had mentioned his name... Well, there were a lot of Bills in America, but not a lot using the last name "Cipher." There were probably under fifty living humans who knew about the triangle in Hangar 618, but for those who did, hearing that name resurface in Gravity Falls would blow their gelatinous little minds. He was sure they would love to get their hands on him again. He bet they'd be fascinated to find out how a triangle had fit into a human skin.

Getting hauled into a secret government facility had only been fun when his true self was still in the Nightmare Realm and the part of him in captivity had been a projection made of light, dreams, and lethal doses of radiation. Plus, that had been before he really, truly knew what it was like to be a captive. Now, the thought of being hauled back to that interrogation room—with the cheap metal chairs and gray floor and gray walls and stark sharp light—made him nauseous. The idea of being questioned about himself by some arrogant buzzkill in a suit sounded too much like therapy for comfort.

And it would be so much easier for them to keep him from escaping when he was weighed down by flesh.

Nobody was protecting Bill. The Pines weren't above throwing him under the bus if they thought it might save their precious little family from arrest. There was nothing for it. If he wanted to save himself—he had to help.

"Listen," Bill said. "I have an idea. It's iffy, and it'll require you all to trust me a bit..." He paused to give them an opportunity to laugh.

Only Stan chuckled. Good enough for Bill. "But, it might be our best shot."

"Okay," Ford said warily. "What is it."

"Bear with me," Bill said. "I bet I could get the head agent off our case by flirting with him a little."

And that time they laughed at him.

Bill patiently waited. "Okay, okay, ha ha, but the guy's been leering at me the last two days. Ask Wendy, she's the one who noticed! And do you know what his love life looks like? Because I do. Woof. Dry as a bone. That man's married to his work! He's lonelier than Elvis is!"

"Wait," Ford said. "What does that mean? Where's Elvis?"

"Not important. The point is, he's a soft target, he's already into this—" he gestured disdainfully at his human body, "and he's got the loosest lips in the eagles. I make a little small talk, I compliment his mustache and pretend I think working for the government is attractive, I keep him too dazzled to notice what's right in front of his face..." Bill trailed off. "And... that's as far as I've gotten. We'll figure it out as we go! Maybe I just distract him too much to do his job, maybe I strangle him in the bathroom and sell his body parts to half a dozen inhuman vendors in the Crawlspace, I don't know! I'll improvise!"

"It's barely half a plan," Ford said.

"It's the biggest fraction of a plan we have. What do we have to lose?"

"I think he might be on to something," Stan said. "I mean, consider it. Bill's an objectively beautiful woman."

The room stared at him. Bill flipped up his eyepatch to double his stare.

"What! It's just a fact!"

"Aww, Stan." Bill laced his hands together coquettishly and batted his lashes.

"Save it."

"Stanley. I had no idea you felt that way about me—"

"Can it, Cipher! " Stan curled a fist threateningly. Bill winked at him. Stan shuddered. "Eugh. Physical attraction's only gonna carry you so far, demon! Can you attract a man when you're talking to him? Because personally, I find you less appealing every time you open your mouth—and you were in the negatives the first time we met."

Bill thought about that. Bill thought about all his human cultists. Bill thought about all his human cultists whom he'd caught having scandalous dreams about endless staring eyes and cool black hands that buzzed with static and being fully exposed before the golden glory of an ever-watching false sun. Bill thought about that one time he tried to ask one of his sects to at least invite him to his own wedding and wait for him to RSVP before symbolically marrying more cult novitiates to him and they sorta nodded and said "okay" and then went and wedded him to another dozen Cipherwives anyway. "Yeah! Sure! No problem! I attract humans all the time! They can't get enough of this!"

"Okay, but can you attract a human that isn't into freaky space triangle things?"

Bill tapped his index fingers together thoughtfully. "Ummm..."

####

1981

A clubber eyed the hands of the man sitting at the bar beside him.

The man noticed the look and turned toward the clubber, grinning too wide, staring at him with yellowish slitted eyes that seemed to flash in the dim light like a cat's. "Yeah, I know." He drummed his fingers on the bar top. "Six fingers."

The clubber flinched at being caught staring. "Oh—sorry."

"Don't be! It's a built-in conversation starter!" The six-fingered yellow-eyed man laughed. "Hey! Have you ever had six fingers before?"

"Uhh," the clubber said. "Nnno?"

"Would you like to?" The man winked with both eyes, one at a time.

The clubber frowned at him in confusion, and then slowly turned away without answering.

####

"Sure," Bill cheerfully lied. "No problem!"

####

There was a knock on the attic bedroom door. Mabel opened it.

Stan and Ford stood in the doorway with a sulky Bill in between them. Stan pushed Bill into the room and said, "Teach him how to flirt."

Mabel gasped in delight.

####

(Well that took way later than I wanted it to—but it's finally out.

Head's up, I've got two zine deadlines that take priority, my workload triples at the end of the year, and I'm currently preparing the house to welcome home a new baby*, so we might skip next week's chapter. Hopefully not, though; I'd hate to start the new year that way. We'll see.

*it's a snake. the new baby is a boa constrictor.

Let me know what y'all think! I'm looking forward to hearing your thoughts.)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher #(Edit: 'oh i did SUCH a good job remembering to draw Young Ford's hair' says artist who hasn't yet noticed the art has Old Ford's eyebrows)#(fixed now)

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nyankochan · 3 days ago

Text

Pomegranate Seeds

Synopsis: Idia is terrified of you but after you guys accidentally end up in a “compromising” position, he realizes how much he enjoys your touch

Content: Idia x Cerberus!gn!reader, reader is a beast man, sub!idia, oral (male receiving), pre-ejaculation, multiple orgasms, over stimulation, sorry if Idia seems a bit OOC

W/c: 2.5k

Idia is avoiding you as much as possible.

First off: you terrified him. He couldn't figure out why a canine hybrid as yourself wasn't sorted into Savanaclaw like most beastmen but the mirror chose Ignihyde. You may be shorter than he was but you were definitely stronger and faster. And your acute sense of smell made it damn near impossible for him to hide from you.

Second: you were like a hyperactive puppy that required attention all the time. You'd come into his dorm when he was skipping out on his Housewarden duties and dragged him out of the confines of his room to take him on your many adventures. Don't let him try to escape or else you'd hunt him down. And let's not forget how you'd take it upon yourself to crash in his bed when you have a perfectly good room of your own.

Granted, Idia stayed up half the night gaming, but it was annoying finding your hair in his blankets!

Third: you never took the hint to go away! Idia was much too shy to directly tell you to screw off, so whenever he tried to make an excuse, you always managed to find a way to stay around. It's like you were glued to his hip whenever possible and he couldn't stand it.

He felt bad for doing it, but many times he pushed you off to Ortho. His poor brother didn't really understand, but you seemed to enjoy the younger Shroud's presence. You often coddled him cause of how cute he was and since he reminded you of your younger siblings from back home. And you two often played games together, racing to see who was faster, or making a mess baking in the kitchen.

Ortho couldn't quite compute the issue with you. You were sweet and caring. Sure, you could be a bit rough at times with the affection. But overall you were fun to be around. So he couldn't figure out why Idia didn't like you.

"Ortho!" You announce your presence as you kick open the boy's dorm door. Your tail wags excitedly as you proudly show off the object in your hand. "Look! Look! We got pomegranates in botany! They're so sweet and tasty!"

"Ohh! I've never had one before!" Ortho muses.

"You haven't?" You ask as you munch on the soft fruit. The blue haired boy shakes his head.

"I don't think they grow on the Island of Woe. It's pretty secluded."

"Oh? That sucks." You hand one of the extra fruits you took to Ortho. "Here! You can have one of mine." Crewel was less than thrilled when you ran off with a batch of them, refusing to share with anyone else. And when someone tried to take one, you growled at them. Poor Ace almost got his hand bitten off by his greedy upperclassman.

"Thank you!" Ortho then paused. An idea then came to him on how to get his brother to like you. "You know, I think my brother really likes pomegranate. You should give him one."

"He does? Hm, i guess I can share one more." You really didn't want to give away your snacks but for Idia you could make an exception.

"Brother should be in his room," Ortho says with a giggle. "He'll definitely be happy with your gift."

_______

Game over flashed in bright red letters on the screen. Idia groaned in annoyance and threw his controller on to the bed.

"This level is so stupidly hard. Do they not want anyone to beat it?" He had been playing this particular game for hours. A new release in a franchise he enjoyed, but compared to previous versions, this one seemed unnecessarily difficult. Sometimes stupidly so. Idia prided himself on being a bit of a game pro, so being bested by a mere level was irritating him more than he would like to admit.

"One more time. After this, I'm going to look through the online servers for a cheat," Idia told himself, picking up the controller. But before he could restart, his dorm door was kicked open.

"Ids!"

The long haired male pales. His body tenses when you nearly tackle him out of his gaming chair in a hug. "Y-Y/n-ssi-"

"Ids look! We got pomegranates today in class! Crewel let me take extra. Have you ever had one? Ortho said they were your favorite! They're super sweet! Fun fact did you know pomegranate shows up in a myth similar to that of the God of the Underworld?"

You continue to ramble on, obvious to Idia's increasingly flustered expression. The ends of his hair slowly turn bright pink to match his cheeks. You were sitting on his lap.

Idia tried to focus his attention anywhere else. The posters on his wall. His computer screen. Anywhere else to keep his mind off the way you pressed against his crotch while you animatedly talked. And as much as he tried to suppress it, he could feel his pants begin to tighten as an erection formed.

"No no no no this cannot be happening," Idia internally panicked. "I was not expecting to handle a boss of this difficulty. Ah, what do I do!?"

"Hey, Idia," you whine, pouting when you realize he's not paying attention to you. "Are you listening to me? Stop ignoring me."

"S-sorry!" Idia stammers, closing his eyes. You stare at him curiously, tilting your head to the side like a puppy. Your ears twitch. A sweet scent fills your nose that makes your tail wag.

Suddenly, You lean in until you're practically in his face, Idia's pale skin blossoming bright red as he flinches. You press your nose agains the crook of his neck. The sweet smell is coming from him.

"Y-Y/n..." Idia is paralyzed in his place. For some reason, you're on his lap, pressing against his raging boner, all while sniffing him as if he smelled. How was he supposed to proceed? What did one even do in this situation? He was too scared to push you off in case you took offense, but he was going to be even more mortified when you realized he had gotten hard. Sevens he didn't want you to think he was a creep.

"You smell...good," you sigh. "Really good. Like pomegranate." Your senses were going in overdrive. All you could focus on was Idia's scent and taking in more of it.

"Y/n w-wait a minute!" Idia finally finds his voice to speak. You pause and it finally hits you. What you're doing. The position you're in. Your own face blossoms red.

"I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to. You just-" He just smelled so good and you couldn't figure out why. It made your heart race and heat pool between your legs. And the aching desire to taste just to sedate the growing hunger was just as intense.

"Y/n," Idia's voice came out shaky. A borderline moan that he's embarrassed even came out. "p-please s-stop moving." His hands grip your hips. You had been steadily rocking against him. Now his erection pressing uncomfortably against his pants, which you for sure felt.

Your heart hammers against your chest from nervous excitement. This was a good sign right? That meant he felt something too, right? Idia wasn't a beast man, so some of the natural reactions (ears twitching, tail wagging, etc.) that you were accustomed to, he didn't have or do. So it was difficult to gauge interest. But this, this was a common reaction regardless of species.

You press against him harder. In response, Idia lets out a whimper, closing his eyes in embarrassment.

"Idia," you say gently. "C-can I please touch you more."

"H-huh?!"

"Y-you just smell so good. And it's driving me crazy. I'll stop if you're uncomfortable. Please?"

You give him near irresistible puppy dog eyes. Idia swallows back his nerves and gives a slight nod. He could handle this. It was just another boss level to conquer. He could totally handle it-"ahhh s-shit-" Idia's body jerks as your cold fingers feel up his shirt. Your claws tracing his smooth skin.

You press your nose against his chest, inhaling deeply before letting out a shaky breath of content. You continue lower and lower, continuing to feel him up with your fluttering touch until Your hands brush over his crotch. Idia immediately grabs your wrist, hair burning pink.

"I...I..."

You tilt your head. "Do you want me to stop now?"

Idia swallowed. Yes. No. Yes! No!

"Can you go slow?"

You nod. Then scoot from his lap to the floor. Idia gulped, his heart thrumming against his chest in anticipation. He don't know what has come over him. How did things progress his far where he'd have you, settled between his legs just barely underneath his pc, staring up at him with innocent eyes as if your touch hasn't been fucking with him the past ten minutes. Naturally, every gamer probably imagines getting head from their partner under the desk while they play a game, but Idia didn't think it would actually happen to him! No amount of dirty manga and mature video games could have prepared him to react IRL.

"You smell good here too," you sigh constantly, ears twitching. You untie the drawstring of his sweats, pull the waistband down his hips, and reveal his dark blue boxers. There's a large bulge at the crotch, holding up the fabric along with a large wet stain. "Ids?"

Idia could die right there and then. He had already came. Just from you touching him!

"I'm sorry!" Idia covers his face but his hair betrays his flusteredness, a blaze of pink. "I-I didn't mean to. J-just."

You grab his hand, pulling it away from his face. A soft smile spreads across your features. "It's okay. Can I clean you up?"

Not really knowing what you meant, Idia nods nonetheless. You’re careful when you pull back his boxers. Inside's a sticky mess of white. It coats his cock that's long and thick. More pearls from the tip that's a bright red. The cool air making him twitch.

You start at the base near his heavy balls, licking up the side until you reach the top. Idia tenses, shaky moans leaving his blue lips as you continue to work your way up and down his cock. Your tongue feels rough. But he doesn't hate the feeling and tries hard not to buck up into your face. Idia could feel his stomach coiling but he didn't want to come again yet. Not so soon.

"You taste good," you moan. Your thighs press together, heat pooling in between them. And no matter what you do, more beads of pre leak out, leaving more for you to clean up. As you take Idia's cock back into your motive more, he lets out a louder moan this time. His fingers twitch, searching for something to grab on. And ultimately, his hands land on your ears. You're caught off guard by the sudden touch against your sensitive extremities and let out a squeak that catches both you and Idia off guard. And from the way his cock stiffens in your hand, Idia liked the sound of it.

"F-fuck I'm sorry!" Idia quickly apologizes. "I was just-"

"It's okay. It just surprised me," you say, bashfully. "You can touch them. But they're sensitive a bit."

Idia nods. Still with hesitation, he holds on to your hair to ground himself as you take him back into your mouth. His fingers trace the soft fur of your ears, making you moan. The vibrations leave Idia gasping.

"A-ah t-that f-feels good," he whimpers. Your tongue swirls around the tip before you take him deep again. Your cheeks hollowing to suck and slurp against his throbbing cock. When you pull back to do it again, Idia's hips buck up, and suddenly, he's coming down your throat.

"S-sorry!” Idia stammers. “I didn't meant to fuck it felt so good I couldn't help-"

Idia's head throws back as once again his cock hits the back of your throat. His hands tighten in your hair, and he whimpers out your name over and over again until it's the only thing he could event think of.

You're greedy. Trying to suck Idia dry to quell your own desire. You could feel yourself soaking down below, the budding anticipation making your stomach coil. Your grip on his thighs tightens.

"N-no no no wait," Idia begins to panic. He begins trying to push you away, but you don't budge. "Wait wait something isn't right. I-I'm gonna s-shoot again but it's different!"

Tears prickle against his eye lashes. This time the pressure feels too great. His balls constrict and his abs tense. He could feel his cock throb, as something was threatening to come out. And he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold it back. Idia tugs at your hair harder.

"Y/n! Wait stop! I think I-i have to pee! Please! Fuck fuck fuck-" Idia cries out as he comes hard. His body jerks back into the chair, hips bucking up.

Hot, sticky release hits the back of your throat suddenly, and you're not prepared for the amount of cum Idia ejaculates. You pull back, sputtering into a cough. Idia is still coming, his release spraying into your face. He's a moaning mess. There's tears running down his cheeks. The overstimulation leaves him trembling.

You lick your lips and the side of your mouth, cleaning the cum off them. Needless to say you weren't expecting that, but it was so arousing, you almost wanted to see if you could make him do it again.

"Idia, are you okay?" You ask, standing to check on the male. You brush your thumbs across his cheeks to wipe the tears.

"I-I don't know what h-happened. It w-was too much b-but i-it felt so good. I-I'm sorry. I-" Idia babbles.

"It's okay, Idia," you assure, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "As long as you felt good."

Idia nods quickly. "R-really good. But I think I'm out of HP. I can't go again," he says, slumping back into his chair. He was quite frankly in the negatives. Even his cock had finally gone soft, but he still longed for your touch.

You remember then. The pomegranates. You had set them off to the side. Taking one of the fruits, you split it open, juice running down your fingers and you pull out the seeds. "Here," you offer to the blue haired male. "I'll be nice and share. Since it's technically my fault you're exhausted."

Idia stares blankly for a few seconds before taking the pomegranate seeds. They were sweet. And he couldn't help but wonder...His eyes trailed down the span of your body before his cheeks flushed at his dirty thoughts.

As mythology went, taking the pomegranate seeds bound two souls together. Would that mean the same for you two here on out? You terrified Idia in a lot of ways, but at the same time, he couldn't deny the way your presence was starting to allure him. Just like the sweetness of the pomegranate seed.

#twisted wonderland #twst #x reader #twst x reader #twst smut #twisted wonderland smut #twst x idia #twst idia #idia shroud #twisted wonderland idia #idia x reader #idia shroud smut #idia shroud x reader #ignihyde #twst ortho #ortho shroud

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supercimi · 2 days ago

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Your friend has always been a bit carefree

Whenever he gave you those gifts, he basically just shoved them into your hands as If giving you some candy or something

He liked to joke around and get you in dumb situations all the time, sometimes those shenanigans got you in trouble, other times it ended in a rather underwhelming repercussions, like the flower bed incident when you were small.

Lucky for the both of you, the neighbourhood community had already wanted to get rid of that flowerbed, so you only got cleaning duty for three months because of what you two did

Maybe because of this, he would sometimes give you these gifts? He is a trickster and gets in trouble a lot yea but not a bad friend, u know?

Just yesterday, he told you that his next gift was gonna be awesome!

But why did he need you to wait in the square park for that?

...

It's been so long now...

How many hours have you been waiting?! And you were just praising him! He should just wait until you are back!! You shall not have his back!

Trudging away in anger and saddled with annoyance you finally reached your home

I mean homes, you two are neighbours after all,

"Hey! Where did that idio-"

Just as you snapped the gate doors open, the sight before you sucked any words you had left out of your mouth

"Oh, ops I got caught huh?" Your friend sheepishly confessed

"...." your gaping mouth couldn't catch up with your brain fast enough to close, but that was the least of your concerns right now

"You don't have any questions? " that same carefree tone and face yet, just what was going on?

There in front of you he stood, shimmer by shimmer he was fading away,

Words could not form, thoughts would not churn.

You could only stare

"Hey now, don't make that face," he laughed sheepishly like he did when he felt at loss

Why? What? How?

You could not say any of that

You couldn't even close your mouth

".....h..w..what?...how?" You finally managed to let out

Looking at his stupid face you wanted to claw the answers right out of his mind

But you couldn't, you wouldn't, even if you could.

"....because I made lots of mistakes?" He hummed as if thinking to himself

"So what! Why would this happen?!" Your confusion ignored, but that ignited your still mouth, and it finally spun its cries

"Because i made up for them all!"he boasted cheerily as if he wasn't fading more and more

"Wha?" Your confusion only multiplied but your words lost their strength

The passing time was only proved by his fading eyes

"...please just tell me your reasons" you tried a final time your earlier annoyanc and grievance at being stood up long forgotten

Looking at you for the uptenth time tonight, quite and kind, he wasn't someone who would have such a gentle look

"....because i care," smiling widely he answered vaguely yet again.

Streching your arms to grab that stupid figure, you barely had your words!

"That doesn't explain anything you doofus!"

You cried as your hands caught air

Your friend wasn't here anymore

...

....

.." ghr..dang..it...you.." blabbering your words, you could not speak anymore

You only cried in confusion

And that's okay

Despite every reality we had, you were always there for me.

You always went along with me

You had my back even when you didn’t recognize me

Be it in the past ir the future, or even in the present

You were my family

My friend

My teacher

My partner in crime

My only constant in the world

When you were gone, my world was gone

I searched for you, countless worlds and times, but they all aren't you

Well, they are you, but not you at the same time... Maybe that's why eventually i gave their original friends back to them

Because they were not my friend whom i lost

Maybe because i did that, i found you again

One final time

I had my family again for the last time

If the price for that was my life, it didn't really sound so bad

I hope you live on much more happily this time

We only had one life after all

Farewell, my friend.

Your friend keeps giving you very random gifts at completely random times. It seemed like an odd but nice gesture, until you realise each gift has saved your life from any sort of incident some time after accepting it.

#writers on tumblr #writing prompts #i tried smth up >:3 #i was pretty inspired by the prompt #i got the idea to make the friend somrhow has thr ability to know about his friends' future accidents #and that by giving him these gifts he saved him but at the price of his own life #at furst i didn’t have an idea as to where all these abilities came from #but as i wrote i thought more! maybe by the power of grief the gifting friend found a way to travesr space and time to search for #his friend's soul! and whenever he did he would take over someone whose close to them to be qith his family again #but the more he did that #the more misfortunes he #caused for their worlds #and he couldn't keep doing that anymore #hurting all these souls for his selfishness #so he gave up his fruitless chace #and wandered space time eternally as a fading soul #maybe because of his selflessness in giving up what he wants #he ironically got it back #but not completely #he still had to pay back for all the misfortunes he caused #to do that he traded his time for the objects which could save his friend's life if that makes sense?#and so little by little #his dept was repaid #and his time was ending #his final gift was putting out a fire that could have ended his friend's life #he convinced his friend to go to the park just in case he couldn't do it #but he could #and he had to leave #he didn't plan for his friend to catch him just before he left thu #this might sound romantic but it's not intended as such btw its about family or found family in this case <3

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misshuntereevee · 2 days ago

Text

when you finally remember your past with your dragon, because i really just needed MC to remember. i needed the pay off. so here we are.

content: pure fluff

buy me a ko-fi 🫶🏻

You didn’t know what to expect. The protocore floating in front of you glistens red and you realize all at once that it is an aether core. Just like the one in your heart and in Sylus’ eye. You don’t know what possesses you, but you reach out, almost to grab it—

And then you feel it. A whole lifetime of tragedy and loss and also love… ramming into you at full speed. A kiss in a meadow of beautiful red flowers. A hand gently touching your face. The dragon you met while angry and lost. How you became each other’s worlds…

A gasp crashes out of your lips. A million memories, a million stories. Footsteps are heard from behind you. You realize you’re still in battlefield, you should be more careful -- but how could you? How could you when you just remembered everything. You raise your gun only to realize it’s Sylus who's entered the area.

“It’s only me, kitten.” His voice comes almost as a purr. He doesn’t seem to notice you’ve had an epiphany. You dropped your gun down to your lap, your breathing hard. Everything... came flooding back.

Because your dragon. He’s here. He’s always been here. You’d always felt that he was something more to you. That you’d known each other. Your gun clatters to the floor as you stare at him. Completely shell-shocked. He seems to be concerned now, although he only lets it slip by a slight furrowing of his brow.

“Sweetie?”

And just like that, you’re bolting to him. You catch air, landing into his arms. Your own arms go around his neck, hugging him tightly. He catches you like it’s nothing, holding on to you.

“What is this?” He says, his voice tinged with amusement and confusion.

“I remember. I remember you, my dragon.”

He pauses, and unlike Sylus’, his voice is shaky as he responds next. It sounds unsure, like he doesn’t know whether to believe it.

“You do?”

And then the song. The harmony he’d played you weeks ago. You remember the ending now. The end you never got to play because you’d end up in his arms, distracted. You remember that so clearly...

In that past life, you sit with him in his cave. He'd acquired an organ through a raid he'd performed on an abandoned city. Most times, Sylus found, humans would destroy each other, and he only had to pick up the pieces.

But Sylus didn't know that you knew how to play. His little sorceress. You took the seat at keys, staring at it with a gentle smile. He felt almost like he was intruding. Like this was a personal moment between you and the organ.

But to his amazement, you turn to look at him -- before patting the seat next to you. He didn't know what to think, but he sat next to you. You're so beautiful to him, as you start to play. Halfway through the song, right after the melody, your hair falls in your face.

While pushing it out of your face, your hands pause on the keys. You're both stuck in this moment. His hand on your cheek, your gentle eyes boring into his. How they could make him, a dragon, feel so vulnerable, he'll never understand. But one look from you is enough to level him.

And then you're both kissing in earnest. The keys play an ugly note of dissonance as they slip away and into his hair. His mouth explores yours, all while telling you how beautiful the music was. How he was going to covet it while he coveted you.

Later the next day, you heard him humming it as he polishes his gold. You make a note to play it more often. However... you never finished. You always got distracted by him.

So you hum it to him now. Proving to him that you remember. Realization crashes over his face. His red hues widening ever so slightly. That’s all he needs to hear before he’s lifting you up in his arms. His hands are firm, stern, but not harsh. Never harsh with you, his everything.

Both of your legs straddle his hip, and he’s looking at you, his eyes burning with passion. “I’ve waited so long,” he rasps, his eyes boring into yours. His forehead falls against your own. “I was starting to think I’d have to be content, making new memories, but here you are. My little sorceress.”

You don’t even realize tears are falling down your face. Your hands desperately touch whatever they can, mapping out his face. He doesn’t stop you, soaking up your affections.

“You’ve always loved me. Through anger, kindness— oh my dragon. My Sylus.”

There is a hint of a growl at that, and he kisses you deeply. He’s surging forward, using the fact you are in his arms to press you against a tree. The battle is long since over now, and he's focused on you.

“Say it again,” he demands, even as he continues to steal and roam your mouth in between words. It's like he's a man starved. He needs to hear it. He's waited so long.

He gave up everything for just the hope of you remembering again, and here you were. Sylus needed to hear these words as sure as he needed to breathe.

“Mine. My dragon!” You say in-between giggles and his incessant lips. You aren’t complaining though. He peppers against your skin, every inch that he can find. All while you're crying happy tears. "Don't leave. Never again." You say, over and over.

"A dragon never leaves its treasure," he says, his forehead finally pressing against yours. His eyes closed, as if he's breathing you in, feeling this moment. "And you're the most valuable treasure a creature could ever have."

#y'all this one #this one hurt me #AH #sylus x mc #l&ds sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #lads fanfiction #lads fanfic #sylus x reader #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #my writings.#sylus #also in the poll y'all encouraged me to be unhinged and not queue so #here we are

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keferon · 1 day ago

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Mecha headquarters is attacked. The building collapses. Blurr goes in and doesn't come back out. And Swindle's the one that's got to deal with the fallout. As far as nightmare scenarios go, this is pretty high up on Swindle's list.

----------------------------------

Swindle only pulls his phone out of his pocket when he reaches the shadows off to the side of where rescue crews are digging through the rubble of mecha headquarters. Digging they only started because Blurr, the face of mecha, went into that building and didn't come out. Digging they are only continuing because they believe they've found signs of life buried in the rock. Which is why Swindle's phone has been buzzing nonstop for the past several minutes.

He looks at the names next to the missed calls. Shockwave. Shockwave again. Pharma. Unknown number. (Shockwave?)…. The list goes on.

Swindle doesn't know how Shockwave or Pharma knows already, but they must. Swindle's first call since Blurr disappeared under that ton of rubble had been to emergency services. Every call since has been to call in favors, pull strings – exert as much influence as he can to keep the details of what's going on out of the news. To keep the potential damage this could do to a minimum.

Somehow, it hasn't been enough. Which means this situation is fast heading towards something more than what Swindle can handle on his own.

Swindle pulls a second phone from his pocket and hits the number on speed dial.

"Hello?" A voice answers within one ring of Swindle dialing. Onslaught. He relaxes slightly.

"You watching the news?" Swindle skips over customary greetings, security measures – there's no time for them now. He knows it is Onslaught on the other end of the line. Onslaught will recognize it is him by his voice. That much, they still have to be able to trust.

What exactly will be on the news, Swindle doesn't know. But, it's a safe bet that at least some of the basics of the mecha attack will be broadcast. Beyond that, it all depends on how much Swindle's contacts came through.

"Yeah. Mecha was attacked. They're saying no casualties, so why are you calling me?" Onslaught asks.

"That's all they're saying?" Swindle asks in return. "No casualties?"

"That's all. No casualties," Onslaught confirms. "Showed some footage of the fighting. Pretty standard stuff. Cut in some impressive footage of Blurr's mech. What's going on? Not that I'm not glad to hear personal confirmation you're not dead, but this line is for emergencies."

"There is one. Shockwave." Swindle says the name as though there's no further justification needed for why he's calling on this line. And really, there isn't. They had agreed to that from the start of this venture. "He's been calling me. Non-stop."

Swindle thinks he hears a soft curse on the other end of the line then, "Why would he care? What's his interest?"

"Blurr," Swindle says. "That footage, of his mech – was the actual fight. A fight he never should have been in. But he did it anyways because there was no other option. He went into the building and he never came out. He's the reason they're still here digging – the reason I'm still here."

"And the reason Shockwave's calling," Onslaught fills in.

"Yes. Him. And Pharma." Swindle adds.

"Pharma is a medic, you know. With ratchet going more or less of the grid and First Aid and Ambulon tied up with Vortex he's the highest ranked medic in mecha. It would be his job to supervise pilot injuries." Swindle can tell even over the line that Onslaught doesn't really believe his own words. But they need to make sure they've covered everything if they're going to stay ahead of this.

"He shouldn't know though. I called in favors to delay the news of Blurr's status until after excavation is complete and you said yourself the news only confirmed no casualties yet," Swindle points out. "I've sent no internal communications. Pharma shouldn't know yet. He's too close to Shockwave. Neither of them should know. But they've both been calling since the collapse – within minutes of each other."

Swindle definitely hears Onslaught swear at that. "I don't know exactly what the connection is between Shockwave and Pharma – but I don't want Pharma – or Shockwave – anywhere near this, anywhere near Blurr," he finishes.

"Blurr's alive?" The question is stated matter-of-factly, though Swindle wouldn't have blamed Onslaught for expressing a note of skepticism. If the man is still alive, there's no way he's walking away from this without serious injuries. Swindle would bet every dollar in his accounts on it.

"Possibly. There are signs of life under the rubble. We paid Blurr to be the part of a hero for the media. Turns out when it mattered it wasn't entirely an act. He saved a lot of lives today – including mine." If Blurr is pulled from that rubble alive, Swindle will give every dollar it takes from his bank account to ensure it stays that way. They need Blurr. More than he knows.

"I never told Blurr the truth behind why it was so important that mecha hire him," Swindle's voice drops as he says the words.

"I am not repaying what he did today by letting him find out firsthand whatever it is Shockwave does in those labs of his. We're not going to sit back and watch the creation of another Vortex. It was bad enough when we didn't know. Now…. Right now, I need you to distract Shockwave and Pharma."

"How long do you need?" As Swindle had at the beginning of their call, Onslaught skips the unnecessary validation and asks the question that gets at the point. It has Swindle breathing a sigh of relief.

"A few hours, minimum. But I'll take anything you can give me, just stall them as long as you can. I've got to go." Swindle hangs up without waiting for Onslaught's reply. A stretcher is being carried out of the ruins towards a waiting helicopter.

Swindle manages to make it onboard just before take-off. He rides all the way to the hospital with Blurr. Handles all the forms. Tells the receptionists to put the bills on his card. He knows (hopes) Blurr could do it when the time came (the man certain has the money; Swindle's been writing his checks) – but he shouldn't have to. All Blurr should have to focus on is his recovery, and what comes next. Blurr should have friends, family, a partner – someone to support him in this.

Swindle knows – has known since early on in working with Blurr – that that is not the case. He's observed enough to see that Blurr asks for help if he truly needs it, but no one just offers it to him. Because no one knows to. In this case, Blurr cannot ask, so Swindle manages instead.

In an ideal world, someone would stay by Blurr's hospital bed, simply so the man didn't have to wake up alone in unfamiliar surroundings with no explanations. But this is not an ideal world. And Swindle is not that person. His time runs out long before then.

Fresh blood has been spilled. The predators are circling. Swindle has a show to put on. The best he can do is leave his card on the bedside table as a reminder and hope Blurr actually calls if he needs anything.

I. LOVE THIS. SO FUCKING MUCH YOU CANNOT EVEN IMAGINE

Absolutely in love with this conspiracy thing Onslaught and Swindle have going on. Because YES. OF COURSE. Gosh this is why I love Combaticons. They’re on their own side. Whatever system they are forced to be part of - it doesn’t have full control on them. They’re doing their own thing ehehehehhehe

#maccadam #transformers #tf mecha universe #mecha art #hmm….how tf do I tag it #mecha cbc art #swindle #mecha writing #mecha cbc writing #mecha bs writing #blurr #Onslaught

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cressidagrey · 7 hours ago

Text

Such A Mystery - Part 3

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby.

Warnings:

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry)

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Currently thinking this will have like 5-7 parts?

She wasn't fine. Colette was so far from fine that it wasn't even funny anymore.

And now her twin brother had decided to chime in with his own opinions, pouring oil into the fire.

The thought of the media dissecting every word, every gesture, every expression was unbearable. And still, she couldn't stop herself from doomscrolling.

Colette was in a state of constant anxiety, unable to stop herself from scrolling through social media and the news articles. She knew it wasn't helping her, that it was only adding to her stress, but she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the screen.

Every article, every comment, every thread seemed to only add to her worry. The criticism, the speculation, the accusations...it was all too much. But she couldn't look away or stop herself from reading every word, no matter how much it hurt.

She was stuck in a vicious, spiralling cycle, seeking out the information, even though she knew it was bad for her.

The hormones and the pregnancy symptoms didn't make it any better either.

The hormones made her emotions more intense, her anxiety more pronounced, and the pregnancy symptoms only added to the stress and discomfort. She wanted desperately for it to end, but it seemed like it would never stop.

The worst of it all was the constant swirl of thoughts in her head. The worry and fear, the relentless stream of "what-if" scenarios.

And the most terrifying thought of all: what if her stress was hurting the baby? The idea that her anxiety could harm the little life growing inside her was a constant one, always at the front of her mind.

“Eat, Choupinette,” her mother insisted. Colette stared down at her plate. Porridge and fruit and whatever else was supposed to be good for her these days.

But her appetite was nonexistent. The weight of everything that was happening, the thoughts and fears that were running through her mind...it made it difficult to even think about food.

"Eat, Choupinette," her mother insisted again, clearly concerned. "You need to eat something, for the baby's sake. You're too pale."

“I am..”

“You aren’t fine,” her mother cut her off with a disbelieving snort. "You're pale, you haven't been eating properly, and you look like you haven't slept in weeks."

"And don't even try to tell me that the pregnancy is doing that," her mother added, her tone firm. "I had three pregnancies, I know how tiring it is. This isn't just normal exhaustion."

Colette knew that her mother was right. The pregnancy, while exhausting, wasn’t the reason. It was the anxiety, the worry, the stress...it was all taking its toll on her.

But she also knew that there was nothing she could do about it. The situation was out of her control, even if it was affecting her directly.

It was her own fault why she was in this situation to begin with.

“I was so stupid.” Colette's shoulders slumped as she muttered under her breath. Her mother shook her head, disagreeing with the assessment.

"It wasn't the smartest thing," her mother admitted. "But the media is blowing it out of proportion. They're making an elephant out of a fly."

It was a sentiment that Colette wholeheartedly agreed with. But at the same time, she knew that the media was relentless in their pursuit of a story.

And Colette’s and Max's relationship would be the juiciest scandal they had gotten their hands on in a long, long time.

“I don’t want this to fall back on Charles,” Colette whispered, her voice barely above a murmur.

Her brother had worked so hard to be where he was, at the pinnacle of motorsport…to drive for the team he loved so much.

She didn’t want to get Charles into any trouble. It wasn’t his fault. It was all on her. And any scandal, any whiff of controversy, could potentially ruin everything Charles had worked so hard for.

Her mother's words were calm, but they hit hard. "Your brother is an adult," she repeated. "He can make his own decisions. And he was the one who decided he wanted to protect you. You didn’t force him to do anything, Choupinette."

Colette knew that her mother was right. Charles was a grown man, capable of making his own decisions. But that didn't make her worry any less.

Her phone rang, her hand immediately shooting out for it. It was Max. Her hand was almost shaking as she answered the call.

"Maxie," she breathed, relief and worry mixing in her voice.

Max's voice was gentle, a soothing balm in the storm of chaos that was swirling around her. "Hey liefje," he repeated, the affectionate nickname rolling off his tongue.

Colette closed her eyes for a moment, relishing the sound of his voice.

"What are you up to?" Max inquired, his tone soft.

"I'm having breakfast with Maman," she replied, glancing at her mother, who was watching her carefully.

There was a moment of silence on the line, but she could almost picture Max's expression. He was no doubt worrying just as much as she was, if not more. "How are you doing?" he finally asked, his voice laced with concern.

Colette let out a shaky sigh, her emotions warring inside her.

She wanted to lie. Wanted to tell him that she was fine. But Max and her had made themselves a promise ages ago. If there was one thing that Max hated, then it was lying. Even little white lies like this. They didn’t lie. They didn’t sugarcoat. They told the truth. Regardless of how hurtful it could be.

They told each other the truth. Always.

“Tired,” she answered weakly.

"I heard you've been stalking social media again," Max's voice was dry, a hint of disapproval in his tone.

"Charles should really mind his own business," she bit back, her irritation at her twin brother evident. There was just one person that Max could have learnt that from.

There was a pause, and she knew that Max was choosing his words carefully. "He's just worried," he said finally. "We all are."

Colette huffed, her irritation at being coddled smouldering. "I don't need everyone to worry about me," she retorted, her tone snippier than she intended.

"We're not doing it to annoy you," Max replied, his voice gentle but firm. "We're doing it because we care about you. I'm worried about you, liefje."

Those words were like a knife through the heart. She could hear the worry and concern in his voice, and it made her feel guilty for being so snappy with him.

Sassy chose that moment to come to jump up on her lap and she petted the Bengal cat absent-mindedly as she made herself a home on Colette’s lap.

"I know you are," she said quietly. "I'm sorry. I just..." she trailed off, unsure of how to put her mixed feelings into words. Sassy purred softly.

"It's okay," Max reassured her, his voice low and soothing. "I know it's hard. But please, try to take care of yourself. For me. For Bébé."

Colette felt the tears well up in her eyes again. She wanted to tell him that she was trying, that she was doing her best. But the words lodged in her throat, replaced by a thick lump of emotion.

"I'm trying," she managed to say, hating how weak and shaky her voice sounded.

"I know you are," Max murmured, his voice full of understanding. "But you need to rest, to eat. You're not doing yourself or the baby any favors by skipping meals and staying glued to your phone."

Colette knew he was right. The lack of food and sleep was taking its toll on her health and her baby. But the stress, and the worry, it made it hard to find an appetite or to switch off her brain.

"I know," she whispered, feeling helpless and frustrated. Max sighed softly on the other end of the line.

"I wish I could be there," he said, the longing in his voice palpable.

"Me too," she whispered, her heart aching with the weight of their separation.

"I hate being apart during all of this," he mumbled, a rare show of vulnerability from him. "I should be there with you, taking care of you, protecting you from all this damn media noise."

Colette's eyes welled with tears again at his words. "You are taking care of me," she reassured him, her voice thick with emotion. "Just hearing your voice helps more than you know."

"It's not enough," he retorted, his voice firm again. "I should be there, not just talking with you over the phone. I should be able to hold you, to make sure you eat and sleep properly."

Colette could picture the fierce expression on his face, the set of his jaw. She could almost feel the intensity of his gaze, his desire to protect and care for her. But she could also hear the frustration and helplessness in his voice.

"Max," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "It's not your fault. You're doing everything you can."

Max let out another sigh, a sound full of frustration and helplessness. "It doesn't feel like it," he mumbled, his voice betraying his emotions. "I feel so useless here, stuck continents away while you're dealing with all of this alone."

Colette's heart ached at his words. She wanted to assure him that he wasn't useless, that his support through the phone and the occasional visit meant the world to her. But she also understood how powerless he felt, how useless he must feel, miles and miles away from her.

"You're not useless," she said firmly, her voice steady despite the tears threatening to fall. "You're the only thing keeping me sane right now."

There was a pause on the line, and she could sense Max's turmoil on the other end. "I just wish I could do more," he said quietly. "I wish I could take all this away from you, the stress, the worry, the media. You shouldn't have to deal with all this alone."

Colette felt a fresh burst of tears at his words. She wanted to tell him that he wasn't Superman, that he couldn't fix everything, but she also knew that he would never accept that. Max was a doer, a problem solver. Watching her struggle from afar must be killing him.

"I'm not alone," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I have you. That's more than enough."

"It's not enough," he mumbled again, the stubborn set to his words making her smile despite herself. She could almost see the familiar stubborn pout on his face even from so far away. "I'm serious," he insisted, his voice firmer now. "I should be the one taking care of you and our baby, not just chatting on the phone."Colette let out a quiet sigh, a mix of amusement and frustration at Max's stubbornness. She loved that he cared so much, but at the same time, she didn't want him to feel guilty for something that was out of his control.

"Max," she said gently, trying to make him understand. "You do take care of us, even from miles away. Just knowing that you're there for me, that you love us, it means everything. We're a team, remember? We're in this together."

There was another silence on the line, and she could practically picture Max clenching his jaw. She knew that he wanted to protest, that he wanted to argue, to find a solution to make things right. But he also understood that there was nothing he could do right now but accept the situation.

Finally, he sighed, the sound a mixture of frustration and resignation. "Okay," he said quietly. "But promise me you'll try to eat and sleep properly. Promise me you'll take care of yourself and our baby."

Colette couldn't help the tears that rolled down her cheeks at his concern. She could hear the love and worry in his voice, the desperate plea for her to take care of herself.

"I promise," she whispered, her voice wobbly but firm. "I'll take care of myself. For you, for Bébé. I promise."

She would even let go of the fact that she was pretty sure that her family were babysitting her. When her mother went home after breakfast, it didn't take too long for Arthur to show up, happily ignoring her pointing out that he actually had work to do and instead he joined her on the couch watching re-runs of The Real Housewives.

Colette rolled her eyes at Arthur's unashamed enjoyment of the reality TV show. He had always been a sucker for messy drama, and the housewives provided plenty of that.

"You are ridiculous," she mumbled, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips.

"Oh, shut up," Arthur retorted cheerfully, his eyes never leaving the screen. "You love this show and you know it."

"I do not," Colette protested, but it sounded halfhearted, even to her own ears.

Quite frankly, she would rather watch fake drama on TV than think about the one happening in real life to her.

Bébé decided at that moment to kick her in her ribs again and she grimaced.

"Are you alright?" Arthur asked her immediately.

Colette let out a wince as the baby kicked her again. "Yeah, just baby kicking my ribs again. It's getting more and more frequent," she mumbled, rubbing the spot on her stomach where the baby had kicked.

Arthur chuckled. "The baby's probably just feeling cramped. They want more space," he teased.

"Ha ha, you're hilarious," Colette replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

“Maybe the baby's just getting impatient and wants to come out already," Arthur said with a shrug, his eyes still glued to the screen.

"Don't even joke about that," Colette said, her tone serious. "I still have another month to go. He better stay in there until then.”

She still had around 4 weeks of pregnancy left.

"Still thinking it's a boy?" Arthur asked her curious.

Colette nodded, her hand still resting on her stomach. "Yeah, I just have a feeling. Call it a mother's intuition," she said with a small smile.

Arthur rolled his eyes in amusement. "Or just wishful thinking," he teased her. "Isn't Max convinced it's a girl?"

Colette chuckled, thinking about Max's adamant belief that the baby was a girl. "Yeah, he is. He has ordered a bunch of dresses online," she said with a laugh. “And hairbows...so many hairbows…If it's a boy, I don't know what I'll do with all of them."

Arthur started laughing.

Colette shot him a playful glare. "Don't laugh at my predicament," she said, but the effect was ruined by the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Arthur couldn't help himself, bursting into another fit of laughter. "I'm sorry, it's just too funny picturing Max buying all those dresses and hairbows," he managed to say between chuckles.

Her phone pinged again. Colette huffed in irritation as Arthur picked up her phone before she could. "Hey, that's mine," she protested.

Arthur just shot her a cheeky grin. "Finders keepers," he teased, waving the phone just out of her reach. "Besides, no more doomscrolling for you," her younger brother told her seriously.

Colette rolled her eyes at his reprimand, but deep down, she knew he was right. "I wasn't doomscrolling," she mumbled petulantly, even though she knew it was a blatant lie.

"I just...People are making up opinions about me and my life and they don't know me," she said weakly. "That's why I don't even have a public Instagram in the first place, Arthur. I just want to live my life without worrying about what people are going to think..."

"What does it matter what they think?" Arthur asked her curiously.

Colette let out a frustrated sigh. "It shouldn't matter, I know it shouldn't," she said firmly. "But it does. Maybe it's human nature to care what other people think, I don't know."

She ran a hand through her hair tiredly. "I just don't want people to judge me, to make assumptions about my life and my decisions."

Arthur nodded in understanding. "I get it," he said softly. "It can be hard to block out the noise. But you have to remember that the only opinion that matters is your own."

Colette let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, tell that to the media," she mumbled, but there was no vitriol in her voice, just resignation.

Arthur huffed, shaking his head. "The media don't know what they're talking about. They just want the next big headline, the next scandal. They don't care about the truth."

Colette sighed, slumping back on the couch. "I just wish they'd leave me alone," she mumbled. "I just want to have my baby in peace."

Arthur patted her leg comfortingly. "Just focus on yourself and the baby," he said firmly. "Everything else is just background noise."

Colette nodded, taking a deep breath. He was right, of course. “They have this picture of me in their head, that’s very different from the actual person,” she said weakly. “And now they judge me for something that they don’t even know what it was, because it’s not public. They just take Russell’s word and run with it…”

Arthur's expression darkened as she vented. "I know," he said softly. "It's unfair and it sucks. But you can't let it get to you."

Colette sighed, rubbing a hand over her eyes. "I know. I know.”

"You don't owe anyone anything," Arthur said firmly. "You don't have to justify yourself to anyone. Max would say the same."

Colette smiled wryly at the mention of Max. She could almost hear his voice in her head, telling her the same thing.

She closed her eyes, picturing Max's face in her mind. He always knew what to say to keep her grounded, to keep her from spiralling into a dark pit of despair. She missed him, more than she thought was possible.

"I just wish Maxie was here," she muttered, her voice thick with emotion.

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hayseed321 · 2 days ago

Text

It was the end of the second semester. Dillon one of her freshman students wasn't doing well in her Spanish class. She had seen it time and time again,students would come eager to learn and work than blow off all there studies to party with there friends. I don't know what it was but she had found something in Dillon that was special. She seen something in him she wasn't going to give up on that easy. She wasn't about to sit back and watch him ruin his life like she had seen happen to so many others. As the bell for her class rang and her students got up to exit her class she called for Dillon to come to her desk. She didn't know what she wanted to say, but new she needed to do something. She could see him roll his eyes before he turned to walk toward the front of the class.

Dillon: Uhh... Hello Ms. Fernández you wanted to see me?

Ms. Fernández: Yes Dillon. I am worried you are going to fail my class. I wish to help you anyway I can. Is this the only class you are having trouble with?

Dillon: Well, I appreciate the gesture, but this isn't any of your business how I am doing.

Ms. Fernández: Ok. Wow...I am sorry I asked. I hate to see any of my students struggle. If you ever need help, I am always here.

Dillon: I don't need your help! I hate people saying they feel sorry for me! I am not looking for your pity! How would you be able to help me anyways? Why would you want to help me?

Ms. Fernández: Well Dillon I don't feel sorry for you? I see students like you come in my class every year. They do well than they party with there friends and next thing they are failing there classes and dropping out of school. Your right I don't have to help you, but I just want to say I would like to help if you let me. You know I took alot of the same classes you are taking I bet when I went to college. I try and help my students in anyway I can. You just need to know to ask for it. Tell you what. Why don't we meet at my place three times a week Monday, Wednesday, Friday. We will go over anything you are having trouble with. I will meet your teachers,kinda like your parents would when you were in grade school.

Dillon thought about it. He could see she was willing to go out of her way to help him in anyway possible. So he agreed to meet her three nights a week 3pm at her place.

Dillon couldn't stop thinking of Ms. Fernández. He always had a crush on her. She was hot for a teacher and so kind to try and help him. He didn't want to let her down. Dillon didn't know when he would ever need to know trigonometry, molecular biology or marketing in real life. The day dragged slowly on and he found it difficult to stay focused on his clasess. He kept thinking of what she had told him "she would talk to his teachers, just as his parents had when he was in grade school." Did she want to be his mother? If his parents saw what grades he was getting they would beat him for sure! But they wouldn't know how to help. He noticed none of his other teachers offered helping like Ms. Fernández did. The bell finally rang and he found himself at the front of Ms. Fernández's house ringing her door bell. Someone opened the door but it wasn't Ms. Fernández. I am sorry I must have the wrong house. Wait who are you looking for? Ms. Fernández.

Oh you must be Dillon. I am Jessica, Ms. Fernández girlfriend please come in. Let me take your coat. I have heard so much about you. Let me tell Julie you are here. Come on into the kitchen.

Thanks Jessica. Hi Dillon, you can call me Julie. Julie and Dillon sat down and went over everything that Dillon was struggling with and what teachers he had. Julie told Dillon they needed to meet atleast three nights each week in order to catch him up with his classes. If he were to miss one there was going to be punishments. Jessica made supper than the three of them ate together. Than they said there goodbyes as Dillon left to go home. Dillon went to his classes Tuesday and Wednesday and to Julie's house after school. The next day his friends had told him of a big party Friday night. The party was on the otherside of campus and they had to bring there own drinks. Dillon didn't have a car so he rode his bike to a convenient store and bought a 30 pack of beer. Dillons friends were happy to see him. One of his crushes told him she would be glad to study with him😜 and that he might get lucky tonight! That reminded Dillon he had forgotten to go to Julie's after school 🙈 The party was amazing. It was definitely the biggest party Dillon had ever been to. There was much drinking, drugs, loud music, and sexy girls. The next morning Dillon didn't feel so good. He felt he was at a playground spinning on one of those spinning wheels and he couldn't make it stop. When he was able to check his phone he could see he had multiple missed calls and texts from Julie. He called her back and apologized for his absence from studying. Dillon lied and told Julie he was at a friend's house and he had forgotten all about studying. Monday morning came and another student in Julie's class asked Dillon if he remembered jumping into the pool from the roof of the house. Dillon shook his head no. Julie pretended not to hear as she went about teaching. Julie asked Dillon after class if he planned on meeting at her place after school to study at her place. Dillon apologized for missing Friday and agreed to meet her after school. Julie called Jessica to tell her to expect Dillon after school and to get the punishment room ready. As Dillon went through his day he remembered Julie saying if you miss one day there would be a punishment. He couldn't help but think of what Julie's punishment would be. He thought to himself what did she expect? Every student comes to have fun to college, as well as to learn. Did she expect him to go to school and not party and have fun on a Friday night? Dillon couldn't stop thinking of this the rest of the day. For some reason he felt nervous standing at Julie's door ringing the door bell. Again Jessica answered the door and welcomed him in. Hello Dillon, Julie was very disappointed with you Friday. Jessica took Dillons coat and hung it up for him on the coat rack. Please follow me. Jessica took him by the hand and led him into an adjacent room and closed the door. It looked like some sort of nursery. Jessica sat down and still had ahold of Dillons arm. Jessica asked Dillon how come he hadn't told Julie there was a party you wanted to attend?Dillon mumbled" I don't know? She undid his pants and slid them off with ease. Than caught him off balance laying Dillon across her lap. Almost immediately he felt the swats and felt the sting of each spank. Dillon was very small for his age at only 5' and very slim not alot of muscle either. Jessica had no trouble holding him down. It didn't take long and Dillon was a sobbing mess in Jessica lap. Jessica hugged Dillon and asked Dillon to tell her what he had done wrong. Dillon crying said " I went to the party and didn't tell Julie".

That's right Dillon. Julie is doing all this to try and help you. She isn't trying to make your life miserable. Why didn't you tell Julie you wanted to go to a party?

I don't know why i didn't tell Julie? I must of forgotten? Well she could of rescheduled your study for a different time but you act like a child who isn't responsible at all! Jessica picked Dillon up with ease and carried him to the changing table. Dillon hugging Jessica with both arms. Jessica pulled Dillons sneakers, pants and boxers off. Dillon was wondered what she was doing but didn't want another spanking so he figured he would keep his mouth shut. Jessica slid a diaper under him and powdered him than pulled the diaper up between his legs and fastened the tapes. She picked Dillon up and helped him off the table and stood him on the floor. Dillon noticed what he was wearing now, a short t shirt that stopped at the top of his diaper a diaper and socks. Why am I wearing a diaper? Where are my boxers and pants? Julie wanted to punish you like the age you are acting. Jessica picked Dillon up and carried him downstairs and set him in a high chair strapped him in than slid the tray in place. "Hey I can sit at the table?" Julie smiled as she saw Dillon. He looked like a little toddler the exact way she saw him. Julie spoke " Me alglegra que hayas podido Venice esta noche!" (I am glad you were able to make it tonight!"

Jessica had to hide her face from laughing as she fastened his bib behind his head.

Julie " Parece que tines much aprendizaje en tu future cercano!"(looks like you have lots of learning ahead)

Julie and Jessica kept Dillon at there home and had him do his classes from there. Dillon wasn't happy at all but his grades improved dramatically.

Lessons in love

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chlix · 2 days ago

Text

baby, it's cold outside (no seriously it's crazy out there)

bf! chan x gn! reader: your car breaks down in a snowstorm and you have to walk home. chan is there to comfort you and warm you back up

pairing: chan x reader

genre: hurt/comfort, fluff

word count: 4.1k

warnings/tags: snowstorms, car trouble, sickness, a long series of unfortunate events that leave the reader miserable for most of the fic

a/n: this is a request from @caticorn61 who wanted chan being apologetic for not answering his phone after reader's car broke down. this is perhaps more than what u asked for 😅 but i hope you enjoy it anyway!

You are on a historic run of bad days.

You've never considered yourself to be particularly unlucky, but this past week has had you rethinking that orientation. Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. On Monday your alarm didn't go off, making you late for work. Even worse, there was a meeting you'd forgotten about, so you had to slide awkwardly into the back of the room and pretend you didn't feel everyone's annoyed gazes. Tuesday was grocery shopping day, but you found out they discontinued your favorite brand of chips, and raised the price of an alternative, so you were forced to go home chip-less. Then, when you tried to take the groceries out of the car, one of the bags split open and sent your eggs, cheese, and blueberries crashing to the ground, buried in slush and snow. A total waste. Wednesday you woke up to find your heating had shut off in the night, and you were now shaking fit to break apart. Although maintenance promptly fixed your radiator, you developed an itch in your throat that only grew throughout the day and had developed into a full-blown cough by the next morning.

Which is where you are now on a subzero Thursday morning, ill and irritated and crawling your way towards the end of the week.

Your boyfriend, Chan, talks to you on the phone in soothing tones.

"I'm sorry your week has been so rough, baby," he says, and you can hear the dripping sympathy through the phone. "I know how it feels when little things pile up like that."

"I just don't know if I can take it anymore," you tell him. "It's like I've been cursed. I'm afraid if I walk outside a piano will fall on me and crush me."

You're half-joking when you say that, but Chan can hear that the other half is vaguely on hysterical.

"I don't think anyone is moving pianos in this weather," he says very reasonably. "Just stay away from luxury apartments if you're worried."

You set your bag down and put your face in your hands, taking slow, deep breaths. Your phone is on speaker, and you can hear Chan hum, trying to comfort you even though he's in his own dorm across the city.

"It'll all be okay, Y/n. And I'll see you this weekend, yeah? I'll come over Friday night and you'll have me all to yourself. Just stay strong."

You exhale, long and loud. "You promise?"

"I promise. Be strong for me, babygirl."

You blink the dampness out of your eyes and straighten up. "Okay. I can do that."

"And drink some tea. Your voice sounds kind of rough."

"Don't get me started again, please."

By the time you hang up, you don't feel understood, but you do feel seen. You fill up a thermos with tea, put on your coat, and mentally prepare yourself to leave the apartment.

It's only two more days, you remind yourself. The weekend will fix me. It'll break this curse that's been placed upon me. You force yourself to have a positive outlook. You will not have another bad day. You will be strong.

All day, you force yourself to react to every potentially meltdown-inducing incident with grace and poise. You realize you forgot your lunch and have to eat cheap candy from the vending machine for lunch? That's totally fine. Your boss adds another item to your to list, forcing you to stay later to finish everything and close up? You really don't mind. Your best friend texts you that she's been stalking her ex on Instagram again and you won't believe it but he already has a new girlfriend, y/n, can you fucking believe it, we've only been broken up for like two weeks and he's buying her fucking jewelry, and you respond what an asshole. he has a new gf and he didn't block his ex? while your eye twitches.

By the time you finish all your tasks and close up, your face hurts from holding a smile you don't feel. You're the last one out, so you make sure the building is locked and make your way across the empty parking lot to your car. The forecast predicted snow tonight, and already the ground is littered with white. The flakes are fat and sticky- they're already building up on the undisturbed portions of pavement. You have to quickly brush off your windows and mirrors before you can get into your car, slamming the door behind you.

You made it. You survived. It was a godawful Thursday but you conquered it.

"One more day," you whisper to yourself. "Just one more day."

You lock the door and put the key in the ignition. The dashboard lights up and the engine turns.....and turns....and turns.....

A rock forms in your stomach.

"No," you say. "No no no no no." You twist the key again, but the engine whirs and whirs and whirs...and does not turn over. Your car does not start.

It's not news to you that your car is a piece of shit. You and Chan discuss this almost every night- what to do about this fuckass car. You've been resistant to letting him help you pay for a new one, partially because that's a lot of money and partly because you're sentimentally attached to the old rustbucket. You inherited it from a family member as a birthday gift, and so despite it being less than reliable you're hesitant to seek solutions. It's your first car, after all. It's a part of you now.

In this moment, however, you want to throw all that sentimentally down the drain along with the keys to this absolutely useless fucking rustbucket of a vehicle.

Not to worry, you tell yourself. I'll just call Chan to come get me. We can deal with my car in the morning.

You take out your phone and call him. The call rings out.

You stare at your phone, confused. It's not like him to ignore your calls, especially not at this hour. It's pitch black with winter but it's still arguably early in the night. Chan is likely to still be awake, but it's unlikely he's doing any kind of official task. And it's so late that he would know to answer; you would never call him for something frivolous at this time of night. You call again.

No answer.

Your patience is running thin now. You consider calling your best friend, but she's out of town visiting family. Your other friend, Seohyeon, doesn't have a car, and her boyfriend's car is currently being repaired. The bus you sometimes take is about a fifteen minute walk down the street, but it'll have stopped running this far out by now, so you'd have to walk to a further bus stop and then go to the transportation terminal and connect, which would take over an hour. You could walk to the subway, you think, but you lost your subway card weeks ago and never got around to replacing it, and honestly it just seems like a whole ordeal you can't bring yourself to stomach right now. Chills go down your spine, and you can't tell if it's from the cold or from the increasing precarity of your situation.

You try the engine again. No dice.

You call Chan again. Voicemail again.

You lean your head on the steering wheel and take long, deep breaths. Outside your window, the wind is picking up, making the snow fall at a diagonal instead of straight down. It would be terrible to walk in, especially because the direction you need to go to get home would cause the snow to blow right in your face. Your throat is killing you, but your thermos of tea is long since empty. Maybe you should just go back into the work building and hunker down for the night. Maybe you should sit in the car and turn into an icicle. Your head is a foggy mess, thoughts twisting all around. You're getting hysterical again. You can feel yourself cracking to pieces.

Think, y/n. Who else can you call?

You're all out of people you know personally, but you could call an Uber. It's pricey and arguably unsafe, and you normally wouldn't, but these are extenuating circumstances. It solves the problem of being stranded, and again, you can deal with your car at a later point. And at least when Chan finally calls you back, you'll be safe at home, so he won't have to feel guilty about missing your calls three times.

You lean back in your seat and open the Uber app. Thankfully you still have it installed, and it still has all your info in it from the last time you called someone to take you home. Just as you're about to finish the transaction, your phone freezes. The screen flashes, then goes dark. You press the power button once, then again, frantically.

Your phone is dead.

Immediately, you scramble for your console, searching for a power cable to connect the phone to the car battery. Your cable is gone. You remember, horrified, that you took the cable out of your car because the one in your living room at home had started fraying. You meant to replace it but you never did. You're normally pretty good at leaving the house in the morning with it mostly charged.

But it's nighttime now, and your battery is dead. You have no charging cables, which means you can't call an Uber. You can't call anybody. And you can't even go to the subway now because your debit card is on your phone, so you can't refill your subway card.

A terrible despair fills you.

You have to walk home in a snowstorm.

As soon as the thought materializes, tears start to well in your eyes. This is too much for you to take, would be too much for you even if you'd had a perfectly good day today. This isn't fait. How can this be happening to you? Why is the universe punishing you like this? And when is it going to stop? Again you wish you could just sit in your car and turn into an icicle, let someone else defrost you in the morning. You think having a piano fall on your head would be better than this.

Eventually you manage to get yourself to calm down. Sitting in this car freezing isn't gonna do you any good. It'll only get colder by the hour. You need to walk to the far bus stop and catch another bus before they actually stop running, and you really are stranded instead of just doomed to walk forty minutes in a blizzard.

As if there's a difference, you think bitterly as you put your useless phone into your bag and bundle everything up. You put your gloves back on, and your hat. You step out of your car, slamming the door behind you, and zip up your jacket. Of course, you hadn't thought to wear a scarf today, so your face will just have to freeze. After only 30 seconds you feel your lips cracking.

"Okay," you whisper. "Okay okay okay okay."

You set off in the direction of the bus.

-/-

The journey is long and cold. It's not so much the temperature as the fact that you never have the chance to get used to it because it just keeps getting holder as the night wears on. It takes a ridiculously long time to walk to the bus stop, because you're fighting headwind every step of the way. You want to close your eyes against the snow, but if you do that you'll veer off course or fall into the road or trip on an ice slick and die, so you brave the stinging and push forward. Then you wait at the bus stop so long that your already sore feet start to scream with pain. Your phone is dead, so there's no way for you to track the bus, but you conclude you must have just missed the previous one as it takes a full thirty minutes for it to come again. By the time the bus pulls up in front of you, your feet are almost buried, and when you take your seat, every part of you squelches and slides as the snow melts, drenching your clothes.

The bus is at least warm, and so is the transport center, but the second bus drops you off another twenty-five minute walk from your apartment and you're forced to walk- you guessed it!- uphill. Your calves are screaming from the exertion, and from cold, and from keeping your balance as you trudge through the piling snow. You have a death grip on your keys- if they were to fall out somewhere between work and home you would simply lie down on the ground and let the snow bury you. It would be more than you could take. But your keys stay in your tightly clenched fists, and soon your apartment building becomes visible through the dark and haze. You want to cry tears of relief but your tear ducts are frozen shut.

By the time you traipse up the steps of your apartment, you feel more popsicle than person. You are so cold. Your hands shake so much it takes you a few tries to get the keys from your pocket and stick them in the lock. You step inside, sagging as the heat blasts you in the face. All you want to do is collapse into bed and curl under your blankets where the world can't see you, to get a little bit of sleep before your torture begins anew tomorrow. The thought of going to work on Friday strikes a physical pain in you. You've barely survived today, and yet tomorrow looms terrible just out of reach.

You go to turn on the lights only to realize that the lights are already on. Your heart skips a beat. Did someone break into your apartment? Should you turn around and flee? But you don't have a car, and you certainly aren't walking back to the bus stop. You have nowhere to go.

A figure turns the corner and you flinch back, hands half-raised in some pathetic attempt to defend yourself-

It's Chan. He turns the corner and it's your boyfriend, standing on your tile floor in sweats and a big sweater, eyes bright and twinkling with how excited he is to see you.

"Hey, sweetheart," Chan says. "You're finally back. I saw you called earlier and got worried something was wrong."

You burst into tears. You're crying before you even know it, violent sobs that shake you and make water droplets roll off your soaked hair. Salt burns your frozen tear ducts, and snow is slipping down your collar, but all these small discomforts are overshadowed by the pure and all-consuming relief that your boyfriend is here in the flesh, asking after you and taking care of you, and you can finally stop fighting to keep it together. You can rest.

Chan makes a sound of alarm and rushes forward to grab you as you start to list.

"Baby? Hey, hey, what's wrong? Christ, you look terrible. Are you sick?" He tries to put his hand against your forehead but pulls it away just as fast. "You're cold as ice, y/n."

"I w-walked home," you try to explain. Your tongue is thick in your mouth, and it's hard to get enough air to speak through your sobs. "Car broke down, phone died, b-bus was late."

"Fuck, sweetheart. I'm so fucking sorry. That sounds terrible."

His validation of your misery just makes you cry harder. Chan pulls you into a fierce hug and you bury your face in his shoulder and absolutely lose it. All the stress of the last week crashes down on you at once, your misery overwhelming you. You grab at his clothes with gloved hands, and there's about four layers of clothes between you, and it's not enough, you want to be closer. But at the same time you can't make yourself pull away from Chan's embrace. He whispers soothing words in your ear, rocks you back and forth, presses closed mouth kisses to any part of you he can reach. He doesn't shush you, or try to calm you down. He just lets you have the emotional release he knows you sorely need.

When your cries start to slow, he gives you one final squeeze to catch your attention, and whispers, "We need to get you out of these clothes, hmm? Does that sound okay?"

You swallow the last of your sobs and nod morosely.

"Okay then. Let's take your jacket off. It's soaking wet by now."

You step back from Chan, still holding on to his arm as you stumble and sway. You're so tired. Standing up for even a second longer is too big of an ask.

"Just lean on me. It's okay, I won't let you fall."

Together, you unfasten and take off your heavy winter coat, letting it fall to the floor with the slush you dragged in. Chan is the one who crouches down to untie your shoes, and you lean on him for support as you remove one foot, then the other.

"Good job," he praises, pressing a kiss to your snow-soaked hair. "Let's get you warmed up now."

He leads you to the bathroom and starts the water running in the tub. You listlessly undress, leaning on the counter for support when you need it. While the tub is filling, Chan tries to leave, but you catch him by the shoulder on his way past you, stopping him in his tracks.

"Stay?"

"Of course I'll stay," he says. "I just want to get you a change of clothes."

You hesitantly let go of him, and he flashes you a reassuring smile before he slips out. You sit down on the toilet and wait patiently for his return, watching the water fill the tub slowly and feeling your thoughts move sluggishly in your brain.

The sound of the water stopping jolts you back to the present. Chan is back, in a regular t-shirt this time, leaning over the bathtub to make sure the water is the right temperature. Deeming it good enough, he turns back to you and stretches out a hand to you.

As soon as you sit down in the warm water, you feel about ten times better. The warmth unties some of the tension that coils your muscles, and it quells the shivering that had started up as you were sitting on the toilet waiting to be told what to do. Chan urges you to slide down so you're almost submerged, making sure almost all your body is enveloped in warmth, and starts dumping warm water over your head, soaking your hair and washing out the remnants of grime and slush. He's quiet as he does it, humming a low tune, and you close your eyes and let him do as he wants. When he's done, he taps your shoulder, and you sit up, mourning the loss of warmth as your back and chest are exposed to the bathroom air.

"Do you mind?" he asks. You shake his head, uncaring of what he's referring to. You'd let him do anything to you in this state. It turns out "anything" means washing your back, so you again sit still and let him do as he pleases. The pressure of his hands and the sound of his voice, still humming, gradually soothe your mind and body. You stop shivering and tune back into your surroundings.

He's subtly watching your face, so he sees when you come back to yourself and drops his neutral expression. "Back with me?"

You nod. The floaty feelings from being cold and hysterical are gone, but that just means the exhaustion of your day is hitting you full force. You hold out your hand for the washcloth so you can clean the rest of yourself, and he hands it over, but doesn't move to leave, which you appreciate. Now that you're calmer, you think you might be a little more embarrassed asking him to stay.

"I know you said this morning you were cursed, but I didn't think you meant literally," he tries to joke.

You let out a long breath. "I didn't think I meant literally either."

"Wanna talk about it?"

You shrug as you rub the washcloth along your legs, wincing when you remove your still-freezing toes from the water. "What can I say? It was a shit day at work with a shit ending."

"You said your car broke down."

You squeeze your eyes shut. You are not in the mood for this argument. "It just wouldn't start. I don't know what's wrong with it."

"Y/n..." He doesn't say anything more. He knows as well as you do that you'll get nowhere. It's enough to set you off though, now that your exhaustion is making you irritatble.

"It wouldn't have mattered either way if you'd picked up the phone when I called you," you snap. It's unfair and you know it, but before you can begin to feel remorse, Chan's face turns to one of guilt.

"I know, I'm sorry. I still had it silenced from work and didn't realize. When I saw that you called me I tried to call back but the calls didn't go through."

"My phone died. That's why I didn't call an Uber."

Chan shakes his head. "I would call this comical if it wasn't so clearly stressing you out."

"You can still call it comical. Just not within earshot."

"Surely you think better of me than that."

"I do," you say, completely serious. "Sorry. I'm not mad you didn't answer. It's just been a shitty day."

Chan squeezes your shoulder in understanding. "It's alright. I get it."

"I'm really grateful you're here," you say, and you're getting choked up again, emotions all out of whack. "I've never been so happy to see anyone."

"You called three times. Since I couldn't get a hold of you, I hoped you'd still come home and we could talk here."

"You're too good to me."

"I'm exactly as good as you deserve." He leans down to kiss you, long and loving and warm, and the last of the chill in your bones slides away.

-/-

The next morning, Chan calls you in sick before you even wake up. He has to leave for the morning, but comes back around noon with ingredients to make you soup and tea, and rouses you for lunch with all the care and gentleness in the world. He curls next to you in bed despite your protests that you'll get him sick, but then, it's not like you protest that hard. You're still feverish and needy, and maybe it's not the most ridiculous thing in the world to want to lie in your boyfriend's arms as you recover from what you're pretty sure is mild hypothermia mixed with the flu.

"We were gonna hang out this weekend," you say morosely. "Now I'm trapped in this bed and you're stuck taking care of me."

"Taking care of you is my favorite form of hanging out," he informs you, cleaning away the mug and bowl to bring back to the kitchen. "And hanging up the phone on your boss is my favorite passtime."

"You did not hang up on them," you gasp, hand over your mouth.

Chan shrugs, unbothered. "They seemed a little too annoyed about my request to not tow your car out of the parking lot. I made it very clear that it better be there when you get back on Monday or else."

"So selfless. You could've let them tow it and finally been victorious."

He turns from the kitchen and sits back down on the bed. "You like that car. I'm not going to keep insisting you get rid of it when it means so much to you. Even if I do blame it for the events of yesterday." You glare and he puts his hands up defensively. "If it's not my fault or your fault then I have to blame the car. Sorry not sorry."

"Blame the cursed spirit following me around," you say, sinking miserably into the blankets. "It possessed the engine of my car just to torment me."

"Even more reason to get rid of it."

You're feverish and tired, but the conversation makes you smile nonetheless. "Ask me again when my fever breaks if you still think I should keep it. Maybe it'll burn away the sentimental attachment."

"Don't get my hopes up."

You close your eyes as Chan kisses your forehead, and you slide easily into pleasant dreams.

#skz x reader #skz x you #skz fluff #skz hurt/comfort #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #bang chan fluff #bang chan hurt/comfort

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mika-no-sekai-blog · 2 days ago

Text

One bed

Azriel x reader

Word count: 3000+

Summary: Due to unforeseen circumstances, you end up in the same room as Azriel

Warnings: none

I'd love to say I have solved the Frozen thingy, but I haven't yet. I've started writing part 3 and that's where I stopped because of the madness around. I was so close to making a solid plan for it. Unfortunately, the work happened, then Christmas at work baking f***ing chicken farm. Then husband got fever🙄and he couldn't live without getting someone else sick as well, so now son has high fever too and I'm the last one somehow surviving here. At least I have whole week of holidays next week. I hoped to relax and write more, but we'll see. Wish me luck🥴

Anyway here's something small and not so angsty that just popped up suddenly. Hope you enjoy it.

And for everyone who celebrate, have a peaceful holiday 💕

"I thought I've reserved enough rooms," Rhysand sighed. The last hour he was talking with the owner of the inn we were staying at, trying all possible tactics to persuade him to find us one more room. Impossible task from the very beginning as the inn was full.

We were on non-official official mission. At first, there were only six of us supposed to go as Amren declined, intending to stay with Mor in Velaris, protecting it. However, the two of them had yet another quarrel recently, which led to Amren suddenly appearing with a packed bag in hand a few seconds before intended departure. Nobody, not even Rhys, had balls to tell her no. And that's why we ended up in this situation. Rhys had everything perfectly planned, as usual, but he couldn't have known this would happen. And now we were one room short, but again - nobody dared to tell aloud whose fault it was. Amren was like hungry bulldog, ready to tear to shreds anyone and anything at the best of her days. Now, she was pissed off.

Feyre and Nesta took their keys, Feyre giving me an apologetic look. From the start, they were supposed to share rooms with their mates. This was also kind of vacation for us, so it was only logical they wanted to be with their partners.

That left Rhys with last two keys in hand. Amren snatched one and without looking at anyone or even a small mumbled sorry, she left. We exchanged look and whole group finally relaxed.

"Sorry," Feyre murmured as she headed to her room with sorrowful expression.

Before she left, Nesta gazed at me with silent question and I nodded. I would be fine, for sure. Cassian winked at me as he followed her. They both knew about the feelings I had for Azriel for quite some time, each supporting me in their own way. At this point, probably everyone around knew, except for the mentioned Shadowsinger and I didn't plan to be the one to break the news. I knew my limits and he was off them.

Rhys turned to me and Azriel with sorrowful expression, brows furrowed. "I'm sorry, Az, but you know.. Ladies first," he offered me the last key. Spymaster didn't even as much as blink, no protests at all. He looked as his usual self, unbothered by the problem at the hand.

"Thankies," I smiled, took the key and looped hand to Azriel's arm. "Come."

They both opened mouth in surprise, none of them expecting this from me. Rhys recovered as first.

"Enjoy yourself," he smirked and I rolled my eyes.

"Ha ha ha, how funny," I stuck out tongue at him. He chuckled and hurried after his mate, leaving the two of us alone. I raised brow at Shadowsinger who was still too shocked to speak. He didn't even notice Rhys' teasing.

"What? Did you think I would let you sleep on roof or what?"

"B-b-but," he stammered, his cheeks dusted with pink.

"No buts. Come!" I had to pull reluctant Azriel down the hallway.

"I can try another inn-"

"Nonsense! You would miss all the fun. Plus, I really don't mind. We are friends after all. I have nothing to be afraid of, right?"

I came to a sudden stop, realizing something.

"Wait! You mind staying with me in the same room?"

Before, it didn't occur to me that he could be against. I thought we were getting along pretty well, given the fact that we tended to seek out each other's company, sitting together and talking. The two of us even often hung out in the city, venturing cafes and bakeries. I thought he liked to spend time with me, but it could be only my mistaken impression. I knew I couldn't hope for more than friendship and I was fine with that as long as I could be close to him. He could feel differently though.

"No!" he hurried with an answer, eyes wide. "No, nothing like that. It's just.."

"What is it?"

"It's just.. you are female and I'm male."

I was so relieved to hear that, that I wanted to laugh, but I didn't. "That means that you will pounce on me like an animal as soon as door close?"

He flushed fiercely, averting his eyes. "You know I will do no such a thing. It just means that you might be uncomfortable because of that."

"I'm fine. Believe me," I said softly and took his hand. "So come on, silly."

He chuckled and this time, he willingly followed me.

The room, we got, was quite a nice one for an old inn, but it was rather smaller one. Most of the space was occupied by bed big enough to accommodate Illyrian wings. It was one of the reasons Rhysand chose this place, thinking about the comfort of his brothers. We were supposed to spend here whole week, maybe longer, so it was necessary.

Except of bed, there was only small table with two old chairs, hearth and connected bathroom.

After we settled down, the air had somehow thickened, both of us suddenly embarrassed. And so I did what I could to lighten the atmosphere a bit, but every try for a conversation died out soon after it started. At last, I gave up.

"It was long day," I stretched out, all my joints making a satisfying cracking sound and Azriel grimaced. He didn't like when I did it. "I'm tired. Do you want to use the bathroom as first?"

"No, go ahead," he offered and started to line up on table all the daggers he had on him. I paused and watched him, amazed. How could he hide so many? I thought he had only two, max three. He noticed me and smiled shyly.

"I'll clean them while you take shower. Don't worry, I'll put them away afterwards."

"I don't mind them at all," I mumbled, ashamed I got caught. "I'm just stunned you managed to sneak in the whole arsenal. Seeing it now, I would bet that not only do you have one for each of us but also even one spare."

At that he finally laughed, the rich sound warming my heart. I already missed that sound. Corners of my mouth curled into satisfied smile and I quickly gathered all necessary things and went to the bathroom.

When I came out, the daggers were gone from the table. Azriel was seated on the same chair he occupied since we came, pyjama in hands. He was staring into space, looking somehow troubled. Shadows gathered around his ear and he looked up at me, faking smile. Without a word, he stood up and hurried to the bathroom.

While I was waiting, I shoved my used underwear to the bottom of my bag and climbed to the bed, snuggling up in a warm blanket. It was quite cold here, old window hardly blocking the cold wind from outside.

Azriel took quite long to finish. By the time bathroom door creaked open, I was almost asleep. He rustled around for a while and adding big log to the fire, he turned off lights. I waited. The room went completely silent.

I opened eyes. "Are you kidding me," I sat up, sighing. "Az, I thought, we already talked it out." I glared into a dark corner by the hearth.

"Don't worry about me and sleep," he replied from his place on the old chair.

"You can't sleep on that old crap. It will most likely give in soon." The only answer was silence.

"C'mon, Az. It won't do you any good if you're sleep-deprived. To none of us in fact. What if something happens and you won't be able to fight because you are too tired and sore?"

Again silence.

"Do you want me to help you to the bed? I warn you, I'm going to drag you here not by arm but by ear this time."

He chuckled. His wings rustled and mattress dipped under his weight. "Fine then. Have it your way."

I tucked him in like a small child, mindful of his wings and settled down, heart pounding in my throat.

"That wasn't necessary."

"Believe me it was. And don't try to fake it. I'm light sleeper. I will know if you get up in the middle of the night."

"Fine, fine." He sounded amused. He was lying on his back, wings folded and tugged close to his body.

"Relax. The bed is enough big for both of us. Even if you touch me. I'm not made of sugar, I won't melt into puddle," I assured him as I curled up on my side of bed with back to him, taking as little space as possible so he had enough comfort. He made a sound at the back of his throat.

I thought I wouldn't be able to sleep at all with him being so close. But as bed warmed up with his presence and his calming scent wrapped around me as another blanket, I fell asleep in no time.

* * *

Azriel didn't even blink an eye. He was just lying there, stretched on his back, gazing at ceiling. He wasn't used to falling asleep next to someone. After she reassured him, he relaxed a bit but only his body. He was too nervous and excited at the same time. He was scared to even breath, not wanting to wake her up. How could she sleep so soundly? Didn't she feel the same? Didn't his presence stir her nerves?

Shadows curled on pillow near his ear, whispering. They described him in detail how she drifted off with sweet smile on her lips. Smile that she was still wearing. He wished he could see it with his own eyes.

He dared to turn his head to the side to watch her back, her shoulder slightly rising with every breath. Even at place like this in the middle of nowhere, she kept smelling like field of spring flowers, delicate and sweet. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the moment.

He felt so lucky right now and thanked the Mother for sending Amren at last minute, giving him this opportunity. For years, he was trying to get closer to Y/N. No matter how many times, he was ready to tell her about his feelings, he always gave up in the end, not daring to even suggest it. She was everything he wasn't, beautiful, kind and perfect. She deserved better.

He watched her entire night, mesmerized. It was strange. She was always so energetic during the day, yet at night she didn't move at all. It made him wonder whether it was because of him or it was normal.

It was after the sunrise when he finally calmed down and dozed off for hour or two.

* * *

Three days later, a knock sounded on our door. We were just finishing off the lasts of our breakfast. We looked up in time to see Rhysand's head peeking in. He held hand over his eyes with sassy smirk on his lips.

"Can I come in? I wouldn't like to see something inappropriate."

I rolled my eyes while Azriel bid him in, unaffected by his teasing. Honestly, everyone was making fun of us for no reason. After the first night, Nesta pulled me aside to ask me how it went and how I felt. I had nothing to tell her. At least nothing interesting anyway. I slept like a baby and not only the first night, but every night after.

Every evening, Azriel dutifully took his side of bed and I curled up on mine. No touching, only a pleasant small chat between friends. It was noticeable that he didn't sleep much the first night, however after that, he didn't seem to have such troubles. I was glad for that.

"I came to inform you that finally one more room is available. If you want, one of you can take it," he grinned and waited for our reply with one brow raised.

Out of the corner of eye, I looked at Azriel who was already eyeing me with unreadable expression. It seemed he wouldn't speak and it was up to me to decide.

"Well.. I don't mind to share room with Az at all. But if you'd like to have your privacy.." I turned to him.

His eyes widened slightly and his lips moved without making a sound.

"I don't mind, too," he managed.

"So," Rhys dragged the word. "You want to stay together? Really?"

We nodded as one man, not willing to give him what he hoped for. He was visibly disappointed.

"Fine then," he sighed, "as you want. I'll inform the owner."

* * *

A week later we were so used to this situation and each other's presence that we returned to our usual selves, rambling about anything, laughing, even touching lightly.

Our mission was over and this was our last night of sharing room. Azriel was spread on bed next to me, his wing gently touching my back. I was slowly falling asleep while we did small talk. Somewhere between dream and reality I got idea. Crazy as it was, my sleepy brain didn't find anything strange or wrong with it and my body acted on its own.

With closed eyes I rolled to his side, wrapped arm around his waist and rested my head on his chest. Azriel made a surprised sound and stiffened, but he didn't try to push me away. His smell filled my nose, his warmth seeping into me. Frantic but steady melody of his heart lulled me deeper into sleep. Last thing I felt before I completely drifted off, was his body relaxing under me and his arm holding me close.

* * *

Azriel was so surprised, he couldn't think straight. What was happening? He touched Y/N lightly, yet she didn't mind. She was almost asleep, relaxed and seemingly comfortable with him as her pillow. He felt her smiling into his chest and that gave him courage to wrap his hands around her. She hummed with satisfaction and dozed off completely.

Azriel gazed at her, unsure what to think or feel. Naturally, it made him happy, a dream-come-true kind of situation, but was it really okay? Was it really happening? It seemed to him just like a figment of his imagination, fed by amazing week spent by her side, so close to her.

He pinched himself, really painfully, leaving a bruise on his forearm. It was real. He swallowed hard. Slowly small smile spread on his face. He could get used to this.

When the initial surprise and embarrassment had passed, he found himself enjoying this. His heart was pounding fast, as he touched her hair and pushed them aside to see her face. He couldn't help it and traced a single finger down her face and jaw, mapping her full lips, lovely nose and soft arches of her brows.

He chuckled lightly. Y/N didn't even stir. So much to a light-sleeper.

As he watched her, his fantasy took over, offering him all kinds of imaginary situations that could lead to them ending up in this position; from innocent snuggling together for the night to them being naked, covered in sweat and spent after good sex. His heart squeezed in pain. He loved it and wanted it all. He didn't even realize that he was tugging her closer and closer, holding her so firmly there was no space left between them.

Despite everything, the scenario of innocent snuggling immediately became his favourite one. It held a certain kind of peace and warmth, something he longed for the most. He kept replaying it again and again until he fell asleep, too. The fantasy followed him even to his dreams where it became so real that it was unbearable.

* * *

I woke up unusually early at dawn. Still drowsy I looked around, not comprehending where I was. I was warm and comfy, so ready to close my eyes again, until I notice rising and falling steady flesh under me. That completely woke me up.

I looked up, finding Azriel still fast asleep. He was smiling sweetly, yet the tears rolled down his cheeks, soft whimpers leaving his lips. My chest tightened at the sight. It hurt me to see him like this. I reached up and gently wiped the tears off.

He slowly opened eyes and looked at me, still smiling.

"Good morning," I whispered.

"'Morning, Y/N," he replied, his deep voice raspy in the most sexy way. His thumb started to move up and down my waist in soothing motion.

"Bad dreams?"

"Sometimes dreams can be so beautiful that they make one cry," he murmured. He sounded so sad that I felt like crying too. Instead, I placed both of my hands on his chest and rested my chin on top of them.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I searched his eyes.

He shook his head and wiped off the rest of his tears. "I just wish I could go back and keep having the same dream for the rest of my life," he sighed, his eyes never leaving my face.

I propped up on my elbow and caressed his cheek. "You know that dreams don't have to stay dreams. They can became reality if you want them to."

His eyes widened and he swallowed hard. He seemed to be thinking very hard about something. Determination filled his eyes and he lifted up his head, stopping an inch from my face, waiting.

It was so sudden that I held my breath, but I didn't pull away. Watching me closely, Azriel leaned even closer and his lips lightly grazed over mine. I moaned, my body acting on its own. My eyes closed and I firmly pressed my lips to his. All the years of my suppressed feelings poured into this one kiss, not believing that there would be any more. He groaned and opened up, slowly moving, testing the waters. His fingers dug into flesh of my waist, holding me impossibly close.

It ended as suddenly as it started. He reluctantly broke the kiss and rested his forehead against mine, heaving.

"I want it to become real."

#azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel fluff #azriel x you #azriel #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #acotar fanfiction #sarah j maas #acotar x reader

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skzdreamer13 · 2 days ago

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AHHHHHHHHHHH I love HYUNJINS new haircut!!! AHHHHHH

okay….hear me out…..

Can you pls write a Hyunjin fic of him getting his new haircut without the reader knowing? And she ends up LOVING IT…. And then like snuggling at the end…

only if you have time ofc or if you want to 😍😍

Love this

Give me love

Oh my god yes lol I've been looking for an excuse all day to write about kiwi Hyunjin!

This turned out a bit angsty but it's still very cute and I hope you enjoy! 🖤

Idol!Hyunjin x Reader

Info ~ Angst, reassurance, insecurities, cuddling

Hyunjin has been nervous all day. He pretty much lied to you this morning about what he'd be doing today and he felt guilty. It was eating him up.

But he also didn't know how to tell you that the hair you love to run your fingers through, braid, tie up, and play with would be gone when he came home later. You always told him you love him no matter what and that you always find him beautiful and attractive. Yet it's eating him up that, this decision he's making might change your mind.

But he needs a drastic change. His hair has been long for too long and it was starting to become obnoxious. Was this an extreme change? Yes, absolutely! But it's what he needs and he knows it, he just hopes you understand and still love him despite it.

You're sitting on the couch when you hear the creak of the entryway door. Hyunjin said he was going to the dance studio to practice, but it's only been about two hours, too soon for him to be back. Normally he'd be gone for anywhere from 4 or more hours. Maybe he forgot something.

Standing up from the couch, you're wrapped in a blanket as you walk down the hallway to meet your boyfriend.

"Did you forget-" your words die on your tounge. You look up as he pulls his hat off.

Gone. His hair is gone. For a moment you're conflicted sad that it's gone and simultaneously utterly intranced by his beauty with said new hair style. The way his face takes more of a spotlight, his nose line sharp, cheeks full and flush from the cold air. His eyes borderline cat like. Though his eyebrows are sharp they are furrowed waiting for you to say something, anything.

He looks like he's holding his breath his shoulders up and tense, his back perfectly straight in his puffy coat. His chest rising and falling in short sharp breathes, like your next words could make or break him.

You step closer and you watch his body tense at your movement. Closing the space between you two, you place your hands on his strong jaw line and his eyes go slightly wide. You rub your thumb on his cheeks, the stubble from his face that he didn't shave this morning scratchy against your fingers.

"Jinnie you cut your hair! It's beautiful! You didn't have to lie to me." Your voice is excited and bright but soft and sincere seeing the panick in his eyes. Your words and touch ease him and all his emotions flood as tears well up and flood his eyes.

He can't stop it as a chocked sob racks his body and he hunches over to rest his head in the crook of your neck on your shoulder. You hold him tight and wrap your arms around his large frame. Your hands rubbing up and down his back as he cries. Sweet soft words leave your lips to sooth him as he lets the relief wash over him.

He had no reason to be afraid, he knows something as trivial as a hair cut won't make or break your love for him. But the betrayal of his fans last time he cuz his hair, the awful things they said about him. How many of them abandoned him over it? How many people reduced him down to his looks? He couldn't take a blow like that from you. It breaks your heart to see him this distraught about something as trivial as a haircut.

"I'm sorry I lied to you." Hyunjin says, his voice pouty and soft as he lifts his head and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand.

"I'm not going anywhere silly." You say and pull away from him to look into his beautiful dark chocolate brown eyes. He is still in his puffy outside coat.

You place your hands on either side of his face again, bringing his forehead down to yours. You wipe stray tears from his cheeks with your thumb as he takes a deep breath collecting himself.

You help him take off his jacket and place it on a chair as you grab his hand and guide him, slightly dragging him as he follows you slowly, into the living room.

He sits on the couch and you sit beside him, draping your legs overs his so you're almost sitting in his lap but not quite. Now that you're in the light of the house you get a good look at him realizing not only did he shave his head but he's bleached it blonde!

"Jinnie, I need you to know I'm in love with your new hair!" You say excitedly, over enthusiastic as to try and perk up his mood. You want him to feel confident and happy in his decision. He should, he looks amazing.

A small smile plays on his lips as you bring your hands up to run it across his round head. His hair is soft yet prickly. It's such a fun texture, you could run your hands across it all day.

"I don't know why I was so scared." His voice is regaining its full bodied sound slowly and your satisfied that you've convinced him of how much you love this new look on him.

"I don't know why you were either." You curl up into his chest, legs still draped over his as you listen to his rapid heartbeat begin to relax.

"You know im going to be touching your head nonstop now, right?" You say and he chuckles.

"I had a feeling."

Masterlist

Request ~ Open

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cherie-doll · 20 hours ago

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how do you think the cod men would react to you hiding an injury (from a mission) from them?

(annoyed i had a draft of this ready but my laptop decided to act up and i lost it, so i had to rewrite it again)

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: Hiding An Injury From Them

ઇଓ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Price

it wasn't until after the mission that he noticed you clutching your side, your hand curved protectively over the wound that was surely getting worse by the minute or so he feared

he insisted on taking you to the medic right away, and as you were being examined he stayed right outside the room, he really wished you had told him, he was captain so he had to know if one of his had been injured

you were left to rest but the next day he came back, when you awoke he was there by your bedside, "why didn't you tell me?"

he just wants you to know that you need to trust him, he's more worried than anything on why you didn't come to him, did you not trust him?

Ghost

while you were seeking shelter he noticed the way you limped, you hadn't said anything but anyone who looked at you could see how terribly you tried to hide your pain

he sighs and trudges towards you, as if annoyed he has to do this, but he takes you aside and has you show him the injury, it wasn't as bad as he thought it was which is why he's a little relieved

as he bandages you up he's mostly silent, he wanted to scold you, to say something to get this feeling off his chest but when you gasp in pain when his fingers apply too much pressure he can't bring himself to be annoyed at you

you're left feeling the phantom touch of his fingers and how he gentled when he saw you wince in pain

Soap

you two were almost always assigned together or ended up finding one another and watching each other's back, so you were always in his subconscious; he just couldn't let anything happen to you

yet, in the blink of an eye it had happened, you brushed it off as being just fine, that it was only the debris and nothing more, nothing vital had been hit

but when you went back to base and he didn't see you around for a couple of days and found out you had been sent to recovery he rushed to find you, "you told me you were fine!", and he's upset you weren't honest when he asked

you two were a team...always working together so he definitely gets cross about the matter for a little while afterwards but not for long because he's still checking up and asking how you're holding up

Gaz

when you were a rookie you went to him for almost everything, he was the one you felt safest with and he had treated you with the most respect even if you were still learning and made mistakes

so he couldn't help but feel forgotten or sidelined when you didn't tell him about your injury, in fact, you weren't planning on telling anyone because you didn't want to make a 'big deal' out of it, you had been doing so well and you didn't want anyone to know you had messed up

yet, he found you taking painkillers and stuffing rags of blood down to the bottom of the trashcan, "how long have you been covering this?!" as he rushed to take care of it for you

he was stunned to find out you had been trying to take care of it yourself, still he remained patient as he somewhat understand why you did it

Roach

he went into panic thinking something worse would happen if you didn't tell someone right away, but you tried to tell him it wasn't that bad as a knife was sticking out of your leg

neither of you knew what to do other than informing someone, as help was on the way he shushed you and was 'calming' you down when you weren't even showing distress

he loves being helpful when he can so he stuck around to see if there was anything you needed whether that be emotional support or medicine; he was ready to help

Alejandro

he'd mutter a few curses before ordering some soldiers around to get an emergency kit, you try to move into a more comfortable position but he scolds you to hold it, you're making it worse

"this is serious you idiot, stuff like this can't be held off until later" and he might go off into a long rant but really he's trying to distract his mind as he cleans your wound and wraps it

he implements a new rule; everyone must report what they're doing or what has happened to them at all times during a mission, doesn't matter if they're taking a dump or if they got a papercut they gotta report that too

really he's just worried you'll get hurt and he won't be there in time to aid you

Rudy

he's all over you, anxious and troubled that one, you were injured and second, you were intentionally hiding it from him! he's more disappointed than anything

"i'm so sorry, you'll be fine.. i promise" he comforts as you're being patched up and treated, it probably hurt him more than you but you swear he's being a little over the top

back at base, there is not a day that goes by without him coming by to see you and bringing something for you, he doesn't even get mad at you for trying to hide the injury from him, he most likely forgot

Phillip Graves

"no, no- fuck, why?!" he focused in on solely you when a soldier told him about the injury you were trying to hide, but he cares too much, and you've seen how he is with his Shadows, of course he wouldn't let something like this slip by him

doesn't matter if you can walk yourself but you're not doing anything without assistance anymore until you're completely healed, it's sort of heartwarming in a way

he makes it very clear that this doesn't happen again, and you think he's talking about the injury but no he's referring to you hiding that you're hurt, he doesn't mind offering help he just doesn't want you suffering in silence

Makarov

he can't help but feel guilty, he should've known the risk for sending you out there and now the result is you needing emergency care, thankfully you weren't in too much pain

still, to him this is very serious, "this is serious! tell me what happened, who did it?", he's ready to go out there and find the bastard who had the audacity to do this, but you tell him it was kind of your own fault because everything had gone well it was actually due to your clumsiness that you had stumbled and hurt yourself on the way back

he doesn't know if that's another lie but since you seem better now he'll take it

Keegan

you've seen how much he yells during missions, so you know you're in for a reprimand the moment he figures out you're hurt, it's just a matter of time until he notices

strangely, when he does notice the blood through your clothes his eyes only widen as he points out the stained cloth and then gets to work silently as he uncovers the wound

you nervously try to tell him it's not that bad and he shouldn't be fussing over it but he just rolls his eyes, "not that bad you say? are you even looking at it?"

yeah it was pretty bad

König

he gets nervous the moment you show the slightest sign of discomfort so it's no strange that you'd hide an injury he's surely freak out over, you just don't want to cause him to lose focus

little do you know, the other soldiers are his eyes and ears as they report to him your injuries, he comes and says it's best you go back to base a little earlier, you protest thinking it's not fair that the others have sustained worse injuries yet they still have to keep going forward with the mission

but he just wants to prevent you from getting hurt worse and being so far away from a medic who could treat you end up with terrible health complications

Horangi

you and him tended to play around during missions, as if not taking them seriously, until it resulted in you getting hurt, he went serious after that even though to tried brushing it off

he could see you tense up a bit, your body sensitive to the throbbing pain that was begging to be taken care of, you needed rest and you weren't going to give it what it needed, he really wished he could be more caring and nurturing in this moment

he can only tell you to breathe slowly, to focus on the stars above you right now and hope you got to a medic soon, he wants you to realize you're not fine and that this could have been prevented, if only he had been more on guard

Nikto

he's seen people get their arm blown off, maybe even lose a leg and he barely bats an eye at it, so why is he constantly looking over at you who seems to be suppressing pain?

to him if blood isn't noticeable then it's no reason for alarm, and even then a little blood never hurt anyone, but your throbbing pain only gets stronger and he can see it in your eyes, the desperation and how you wish you had painkillers right now

while everyone else is asleep he orders you to tell him what's hurting and he tries his best to take care of it, he's built a high pain tolerance over the years but will feel disquieted when you appear worn out

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