#if they keep it up i won't be able to make anything

[keferon]

Chapter 2 of Blurr storyline >:D

“Actually” says Swerve ”I'm an alien.”

“Heh” giggles Blurr ”sorry, my head is all cloudy, I thought you said you were an alien.”

Part one

Holy shit I actually managed to finish it…..Oh. My god.

Under the cut⤵️

Is it stupid to miss someone who doesn't even exist?

Probably yes, but hey, Swerve already has several degrees, might as well get another one. A degree in Stupidity or something. Who cares?

For the first few days after waking up from his coma, he feels like he's going crazy. Everybody has realistic dreams, right? The ones where you can scrutinize every angle, memorize every face and smell and sound. The ones that make you lie still for a while after waking up, grasping at every thing you can. Trying to memorize everyone you meet, imprint them in your head.

Because apart from your mind, they don't exist anywhere else. So that's your only way to keep them.

It never works. Obviously. Details slip away. Impressions fade. Just a couple days, and you won't be able to recall anything but the main events from memory.

Wait, hell, not days. Cycles.

His life is a weird, pathetic, fantastical circus. Earth term. Heh. There are no circuses on Cybertron, haha!

But Swerve remembers. And the word circus, and the smell of asphalt, and rains that were made of water not acid. Remembers the English language. Can speak it fluently, even if you wake him up in the middle of the night.

Remembers his work schedule and remembers which company makes the best details. And Tailgate with his bright blue uniform and Wheeljack with his endless experiments and Swindle with his expensive coat and of course...yeah, no, don't think of Blurr, don't think of Blurr, don't. Don't.

He'd heard about it. Read about it, too. Mechs waking up from comas and doing wild things. Some forgot how to speak at all, some gained a new skill, some lived a whole life while they slept.

Articles tell Swerve, don't worry, what you've experienced isn't unique. The doctor tells Swerve that the same thing has happened to others before you, it will be okay, it will pass.

Swerve isn't sure he wants it to pass.

He's been in a coma for who knows how long. The medic said it was caused by an internal trauma that decided to suddenly get worse. One minute he's recharging , the next he's gone. Internal injuries are insidious.

So it turns out. One day he just disappeared from the world because he was busy slowly dying in his room and no one noticed until a thief tried to sneak in. The only one who came to him was a Mech who wanted to steal his stuff. Huh.

That feels revolting. Swerve liked to think he had enough friends. Or at least enough good connections. Enough those who should have noticed his absence, right?

Apparently not. His shifts at work were reassigned, his contacts never texted him first, his...

His small persona wasn't important enough for anyone to notice his disappearance.

Would his human coworkers notice? Would Tailgate have noticed? Or Jazz? Swindle?

Jazz would have noticed, he was always surprisingly attentive when it came to his friends. And he was friends with just about everybody.

Swindle would probably get upset about the money he'd lost.

It's amazing how much his brain-- wait, no, his processor. How much his processor could create to entertain him. It's a more elaborate world than the most complex series Swerve has ever known. And that scrap had forty-six seasons and fifteen encyclopedias!

People, Earth, a bunch of new languages and rules and all for the sake of the end being like, OOPS! ...it was all a dream. Hilarious. Worst plot twist ever. Swerve hates it when stories go in this direction even more than when they kill off their characters.

In his humble opinion, death is better than the revelation that none of the experiences made sense or had any value. In terms of writing scripts obviously. Haha.

He's busy roaming haphazardly through his own memory. He's looking, comparing, trying to find inconsistencies or things that don't make sense. All the stuff that usually gives away the fact that what happened was a dream.

Most of his memories are occupied by--No. Frag.

Don't think about Blurr, don't think about Blurr, don't think..

He's thinking about Blurr. A lot.

Blurr occupies a surprisingly important role in his comatose dreams.

In the time he spent just looking at him, you could hand-build an entire Mech. Maybe even three. Swerve remembers picking up every bit of merch he could reach with his paycheck. Watching hundreds of videos and buying every new themed drink even if it was a flavor he didn't like.

Then spent a surprising amount of time resenting Blurr for not living up to his fantasies.

Blurr's behavior hadn't helped either, of course, but now, looking back at the past himself Swerve thinks that.. Oh wow. You weren't just annoyed at him. You blamed him for ruining your beautiful fantasy. You were having so much fun entertaining yourself with thoughts of this marvelous image, and he came along and corrupted it. Poisoned the well you drank joy from.

But that's not quite true, Swerve thinks.

Blurr was more complicated than that. But exactly how, he'll never know. All he has are his memories, and those memories are cut short at the most interesting point.

Swerve knows this plot twist. The asshole character that no one loves at the last second turns out to not be what everyone thought, but it's too late.

Oh no, he's not an evil jerk, he's actually traumatized. Oh no, he wasn't bad, he was actually secretly helping everyone. You thought he was awful? Well now you're going to feel awful reading fanfics.

Serevus Spayne didn't actually betray the main character's dad, no no, he was in love with him! Bam. Drama.

Swerve isn't a big fan of this stuff. He likes his characters developed properly. But he can't deny the appeal of a character leaving behind a bunch of questions you thought you knew the answer to.

Uggh.

The doctor was wrong. These thoughts don't go away. These memories don't dull.

Swerve just boils in them, constantly getting stuck in his own head. Sometimes he puts English words into his speech and everyone looks at him strangely. Sometimes he reflexively says some inside joke and no one gets it and he's left standing there with an awkward smile. Because. Guys, you don't understand, if my coworkers were here they'd think it's hilarious. I promise, in my fantasy world, it's funny.

When he gets a job on one of the Autobot ships, he accepts it thinking it might be a good distraction from his thoughts.

When he happens to see Prowl with a tiny human on his shoulder in the corridor of that ship, he thinks he's lost his mind.

The whole thing. The whole load-bearing structure on which his picture of the world has been held suddenly gives a lurch. Living your life in a super realistic dream is wild, but meeting a character from your dream in real life??

Freaking cursed.

Jazz looks puzzled by his reaction, but all Swerve can think about are two things.

One, if Jazz is here, does that mean everything else was real, too???

Two - holy shit, Jazz is tiny.

It never occurred to him. But he didn't really know what size humans were. Well, sure, he could measure it in numbers. But he was among humans himself. And about the same size. He was generally even shorter than most of them.

If Jazz is so small, he can't imagine how tiny Tailgate would be. Or--

He can feel his spark freeze. In fact, he can almost hear the sound of a string breaking in his processor. Does that mean Blurr is real too? Real and just as tiny and currently dead? Because Swerve was there but was too convinced it was all just a dream to help?

He's going to get sick.

He needs to talk to Jazz right now.

____________

Swerve taps his fingers nervously on the countertop. Come on. You're good at talking. Talking is your greatest skill. All you have to do is tell someone else about your comatose hallucinations and hope they don't think you're crazy.

They're sitting at a table at the bar. More specifically Swerve and Prowl are sitting at the table, and Jazz is sitting right on the table. (God he's so small).

“So uh. I got injured a while back and...uh...well, it got worse, turned out important systems were affected and I kind of. I was in a coma. For a really long time.”

Jazz frowns

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

He speaks in a mildly wonky Common, Swerve notes to himself. He waves his servo a little too cheerfully in response.

“'Ay it's no big deal really. I saw a whole other world while I was asleep and like. See, I thought it was just my fantasies, but it seemed very real and...”

Swerve mentally crosses his fingers.

“And it was about this planet called Earth and about people who were building their own inanimate huge robots to fight huge aliens and their boss wanted to launch Mechs into space, so he picked the best of the pilots named Jazz and sent him on this test mission and...”

Jazz looks at him with huge eyes before switching to English in surprise.

“Mech, what the hell?”

“...And we lost him...” finishes Swerve with a sad smile.

Before thinking for a bit, and adding.

“I'm going to show you a trick I can do.”

And then projects his holoform onto the table in front of him.

This. It's weird. Not in a way that would tilt it in the direction of unnatural. More like walking around in his comfy indoor pajamas right in the middle of the street. Being human is familiar to him, but being human amongst huge Cybertronians? Strange. And a little creepy.

Prowl looks confused.

Jazz looks absolutely frantic.

“SWERVE????”

Swerve doesn't even manage to respond, only to smile in relief before Jazz rakes him into his arms. In his holoform, Jazz feels right again. He's taller than Swerve and oh boy, he's alive and unharmed. To think everyone thought he was dead, staying up nights trying to find what was left of him, and he was on the other side of the universe the whole time?

Swerve chuckles into Jazz's shoulder. Then picks him up and spins him around a couple times just because he needs something to get his energy out. Man, it's nice to hug people. Warm and soft, eight out of ten.

Jazz pulls away but still stays standing very close. Swerve can literally see the happy stars in his eyes.

“Dude, I'm not complaining but what...how???? You just kinda..."

Swerve laughs and twitches his eyebrows playfully.

“I still speak English, you don't have to torture yourself with Common.”

“Oh thank fuck.” Jazz throws his hands up dramatically ���you're my favorite person right now.”

There is a polite click of the vocalizer resetting above their heads.

“I” Prowl says “very glad you two are happy but I'd like some explanation”

Swerve presses his head into his shoulders guiltily. Prowl has the unique ability to always sound like you've done something wrong in front of him.

Although Jazz doesn't seem to feel the same way?

“Short version - I sleepwalked my holoform to another planet.”

He pauses dramatically.

“The long version is...”

Jazz raises his hand

“What's a holoform?”

Swerve sighs.

“It's a holographic avatar that I can project using a holomatter generator. Sort of like a remote controlled game character.”

Jazz whistles impressed. And then immediately turns back to Prowl

“Have you been able to do that all this time too?“

Prowl hums

“I can create an avatar, but it takes a lot of practice to make it at least believable. And to fully perceive the world through it takes even more. It's a whole new technology. What Swerve does is essentially an art form. Sophisticated and impressively detailed may I add.”

Swerve shrugs shyly. He's still using the holoform to stand on the table next to Jazz. Looking up to speak to Prowl isn't exactly comfortable, but Jazz definitely looks like he's been missing the human presence. Swerve isn't human, but he might as well be.

“Thank you. Yes! Uh. Anyway, it seems while I was in a coma my processor projected my avatar onto Earth and I...let's just say I lived there for a while.”

Jazz laughs

“Dude. So you're telling me you were basically sleepwalking the whole time?”

“ I was.”

Prowl frowns.

“But the range limit of the holomatter generator is only four hundred miles...”

“.... I had a lot of practice...”

Jazz claps his hands.

“You learned a whole other language! Got an ID!. You had a job!!!”

“I got carried away,” Swerve admits.

Jazz scratches the back of his head, still looking very amused

“How many degrees did you get? Haha wait no, I have a better question, did you pass your driver's license?”

“Two. And I failed my driver's exam.”

“Dude you are literally a car without a driver's license!” collapses Jazz on the table with laughter.

Swerve blows the hair out of his face

“Says you who retook the physical several times. You couldn't pass the "being human" exam.”

Jazz just wheezes incoherently in response. Prowl looks alarmed.

“Don't worry, that's him getting excited. So...where have I been...”

Swerve nervously shoves his hands into his pockets

“...Do either of you two know where Earth is?”

Prowl twitches his door wings

“No. Since Jazz was teleported we don't have much clues.”

Swerve grimaces. Scrap. Of course nothing's going to be that easy. He's also been, like,....teleported.

He stands there for a couple minutes and just feels fifteen different emotions rise up in his head at once. A crooked, unsteady smile creeps across his face.

He's thinking.

Oh hell, yeah! I knew it wasn't a dream!

Then he remembers the mess he left behind.

Oh, no, it wasn't a dream.

Jazz puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Swer... Swerve? Dude, are you okay?”

“Ah frag..” Swerve says weakly ”it wasn't a dream.”

Jazz looks...puzzled.

“Is that bad?”

Swerve remembers his friends. Remembers the Mecha program. Remembers fire and smoke and screams and rumbling and crackling flames. Ashes flying through the air and the smell of burnt wires. He remembers blood and debris and...

“It's...complicated.”

This wasn't just a stupid plot twist he'd dreamed up because he'd watched too many shows. This wasn't a hallucination or a disembodied fantasy that just happened to linger in his head. This was real. His friends exist out there somewhere. His work and his collections and his little apartment...

And Blurr. Was real. Or still is? Swerve doesn't know. Blurr wasn't a product of his imagination. He was real and what he did was real and Swerve left him there alone, bleeding and trapped in rubble and tiny and...

Hahahahah oh fUCK.

He doesn't like this plot. It's too much. Too much to handle, too complicated, too ambiguous.

It's also probably too late.

But he can't leave it like this, right? Blurr went into the damn burning building just because of the possibility that there might be someone alive in there.

And Swerve doesn't even have to go through the flames. He has to look. He has to try at least.

Jazz glares at him with a worried look on his face

“ That expression you have...”

Swerve puts the smile back on his face.

“I need to get to Earth.”

___________________

Swerve is not an idiot.

Or maybe more accurately an idiot, but with several degrees.

He's well aware that finding Earth in space with only a description of it is impossible. Which leaves him with two options.

Ask the Quintessons. Or look for it himself.

The first sounds like death. The second like coma. Swerve has exquisite enough taste to know which is better.

He just needs to do some preliminary reserch.....

Jazz, now back inside his Mech looks doubtful.

“You're not going to die suddenly and for no reason, are you?”

Swerve laughs.

“Pfffff what, no of course not, would I kill myself hah. No no, look I'll just put myself in stasis for a bit. Send myself to Earth. And try to figure out where it is from there. Get the coordinates. If I'm lucky, I can see what Space Bridge the local Quintessons use. All you'll have to do is wake me up after a while.”

“It's not harmful?”

Swerve makes an uncertain gesture with his hand...servo.

“If I have enough fuel. And an additional connection to an external generator.”

Jazz tilts his head

“ Why are you so eager to get to Earth? Don't get me wrong, I miss it too and want to go back, but.”

Swerve bites his knuckles.

“ I have some unfinished business?”

“Pshhhh you sound like a ghost.”

Swerve only laughs in response.

_______________

Concentration is tricky.

Swerve tries to think about Earth. And not to think about the fact that he doesn't know where it is. If he's already been there once, he might as well go there again yes? In theory? Perhaps?

Except for the possibility that his sleepwalking just takes him to random planets. That would be very inconvenient. It would be a whole new level of lost

Shit. No. Earth. Think Earth.

What's he even gonna do when he gets there? How far away is it? Swerve is very talented with his holomatter generator, but if it's really far away... maybe he should reset some settings.

He mentally starts going through his options. Does he need tangibility? Probably not. Come to think of it, it would only make him more vulnerable and take a lot of energy. Yeah, the tangibility has to go. What else? Touch, too. Sight and hearing should stay, that's not even a question, but colors and textures are not really necessary.

The amount of detail and picture quality can be reduced as well. His holoform will become colorless and grainy and will probably ripple with static, but he'll survive it.

After he finishes making changes to his holoform he thinks about his old stuff left in his house. Then about the posters. Then reminds himself that he needs to focus on the goal or he'll never find Blurr and...oh FUCK his phone! Where was his phone when he disappeared? Was it found?? There were so many personal things on that phone, he's hoping the phone was burned under the rubble. Either that or the arriving investigators will find his browser history and he'll go into another coma from pure embarrassment.

He blinks dazedly when he realizes he has loads of rocks in front of his eyes. Oh..Did he screw up? Did he end up on the wrong planet? Is it a cave or--

Then he notices the odd shape of the “rocks” and. Oh, no. It's not a cave. It's charred concrete debris.

This is the place where he was last.

He hastily looks around. Anxiety creeps up the back of his neck, makes him feel like something slippery and cold is crawling over his skin. There is nothing but ruins all around.

Blurr is not here. The place where his Mech was lying is empty.

Which means he was at least found and dragged out. Dead or alive.

Swerve's bites his knuckles. Okay.

All right.

He's got things to do.

_______________

He's trying to stay out of sight. Which isn't hard, considering he's just a hologram. At first, he just sneaks around in the quiet areas. Then proceeds to do a facepalm and start teleporting. Think, Swerve. Did you read all those comic books for nothing? Superheroes who couldn't really use their superpowers creatively always annoyed him. And he does, in fact, have a superpower. Gotta get creative, right?

He stops and looks at himself again. His holoform is going static and is a dull white color. He thinks for a bit, and then shrinks himself. Thinks some more, and makes himself almost transparent. There's no way he could pass as a normal human right now, so he'd better just do his best to avoid being seen by anyone.

He looks around thoughtfully. Hmm. Even if he's going to be absolutely tiny, he needs to make sure no one sees him, otherwise the whole base will think the Quintessons are now spying on them through holograms or something.

Breaking the rules feels...it's exciting.

All his ..human life here he hadn't thought about it, but if he threw away the rules he was used to about what people could or couldn't do...

He looks up in a sudden rush of sly genius. All people look under their feet when they walk, but how many look up? And how many of them notice the barely visible tiny holoform hiding just behind the blinding lamps?

The answer is probably none.

Swerve projects himself onto the ceiling and mentally pats himself on the shoulder for his impressive intellectual accomplishments. A creativity degree should definitely be a thing.

A degree in spying on the Quintessons' ships wouldn't hurt him either.

Fortunately sneaking onto their ship turns out not to be that difficult. Swerve makes himself absurdly tiny and hides in the darkest corners that no one would ever think to look into. Why hasn't anyone thought of using holoforms for spying before? Could he be the first to think of it? He doesn't know, but he mentally decides to patent the idea.

Finding the Space Bridge is surprisingly easy. The local Quintesson fleet is clearly used to being the dominant force in space. And that's generally logical. Even if humanity collects a mountain of money from somewhere to throw a dozen Mechs into space - there will be thousands of monsters waiting for them. In such a situation, you don't have to hide, the guards are enough.

Well done, well done, don't hide, Swerve thinks, copying the coordinates and address of the space bridge to himself. You have absolutely nothing to fear here, he thinks, so stay where you are and don't move. Please and thank you.

Once the coordinates are obtained, he... has some freedom to explore. And he uses it for probably the most boring-sounding thing in the world. He returns to his usual workplace.

It’s simple. As damning as the Mecha program was, Swerve loved his job in it. He loved his position in the assembly shop. And he missed his friends.

He quickly teleports through several rooms, continuing to hide close to the lamps. Tailgate is here. Alive and unharmed. Wheeljack is too, though his face has some scars added to it. It's great to see them again, even if he can't talk to them right now. No one will probably react well to a grainy unexplainable hologram. He's just glad to know they're okay and honestly, the last thing he needs is paranoid Onslaught installing extra signal jammers.

It takes time to find Blurr. Partly because Swerve is terrified of what he might find if he started looking. So he goes to check the death lists first, and only after flipping through and re-reading them three times does he finally exhale in relief.

Blurr's name isn't there.

So his smug, shiny ass must be around here somewhere.

He checks the hangar. Flips through the Mech launch logs and feels an uncomfortable knot begin to form in his chest. Blurr's Mech has never been repaired or launched even once since the incident. Its plating has been replaced with new, well polished, and put in a prominent place where anyone who wants to can take a picture of it. But all the internal systems are destroyed. This machine hasn't been used for anything other than being a beautiful exhibit.

That's...something's wrong.

He checks offices and schedules as well as eavesdropping on a few conversations and ends up secretly following Swindle, who is arguing loudly with someone on the phone. He says something about deals and how he doesn't need anyone meddling in his business. Then he talks about how he's got everything under control and the person on the phone is “a dumbass who's making drama out of nothing” and that “he doesn't need anyone's handouts". Then he sighs and says, “you know how celebs are. Dumb and dramatic. You can't take their words literally.”

Then drops the call and for a couple seconds looks like he's just had a large bill taken right out of his hand. Curses again, but in a quieter voice. Leafs through his contacts and stops at the one signed 'free ice'.

“Blurr? Where are you? Wha...ah, no wait. No, the advertising agency called. No, liste...Can you shut up for one second?Where are you?

Uh-huh....... Uh-huh.Okay.

Give me half an hour...okay, yeah.”

This is it, Swerve thinks.

He shrinks himself further and teleports under the collar of Swindle's coat.

He wants to take a look. Just. Just a peek. Make sure everything's all right. Then he can go about his original mission in peace. He watches Swindle get in his car and drive off somewhere. Swerve doesn't recognize this part of town. The houses here are much nicer than where he lived. The streets are cleaner.

He tucks himself further under the coat collar. He's not going to be a stalker or anything, but he's worried and he doesn't have time to wait for Blurr himself to show up for work. Just one little look and that's it.

Swindle's car stops outside a beautiful, shiny hospital. Swerve nervously tries to bite his knuckles, but remembers he's disabled touch in his holoform. Shit? Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shi

Blurr looks like a mangled corpse.

Okay, not really. His left side that faces the door to the hospital room looks like a mangled corpse and that's the first thing that catches Swerve's eye when he's inside.

Blurr is pale and thin and his hands are covered in bandages. The left side of his face has been turned into an absolute ugly nightmare. A piece of his ear is missing. In the place of the left eye is a creepy empty hole.

Suddenly Swerve realizes why Blurr didn't show up for work. You can't even show him to his coworkers like that, not just to the public.

Blurr turns his head and the spell breaks. His lips stretch into a cocky smile.

“'Got bored without me Swindle?”

Swindle doesn't show the slightest emotion at the gruesome sight. He casually pulls a chair over to the hospital bed and sits down.

“Shockwave is trying to sneak a new project into the program. And he's slowly swaying investors to his side, using you as an excuse. Tells everyone you're a poor martyr he can save if only he's given the green light from above.”

Blurr wrinkles his nose.

“Not that he's wrong. The doctors say I need to pick a new career because with this...” he jerks his head to the left implying his damaged half, ” neither racing nor piloting is an option for me anymore. I'm out of your project.”

Then he stops talking for a few seconds and raises an eyebrow curiously.

“You wouldn't have come here in person just to say that. Why are you really here?”

Swindle adjusts his glasses

“Have I ever told you why I made the contract with you?”

“Because you like money” Blurr says without hesitation.

Swindle lets out a quiet chuckle.

“Fair point. But money wasn't my only priority.”

He pauses for a second. Gets up. Draws the curtains in the room. Checks to make sure no one is outside the door.

Goes back to his seat.

“You didn't see what the Mecha project was like before. Brutality and absolute disregard for human rights multiplied by a thousand. People were desperate and no one cared to maintain any decency.”

He raises his hand when Blurr rushes to say something.

“No no, listen to me. If you think things are bad now, you're right. But it used to be much. Much, much worse.”

Swindle sighs and adjusts his glasses again

“Vortex was taken as a boy. He wasn't even out of high school when they shoved him into the lab. Me and Onslaught were pulled right out of the college exams. The others were no better, although they were usually a little older. My point is that it was allowed. It's what the superiors could do and no one told them no.”

Blurr tilts his head and gets a little all turned around to see Swindle better with his right eye.

“But you... found a way to change that, didn't you?

Swindle rubs the bridge of his nose

“I have no power over my own superiors. But Onslaught and I have come up with a plan. Look. I'll put it in simple terms for you. Above me is my boss, and above him is another boss, and so on but at the very end of that chain are people from the government. The investors. So we figured out a way to cut through the chain of command and influence them directly. Make them worry about us. It's a kind of social shield. Onslaught is a genius.”

Blurr blinks.

“Why are you telling me all this.”

Swindle takes off his hat and just. Crumples it in his hands. The back of his head shows numerous scars and the glint of tiny metal implants barely visible behind his hair.

“You're that shield right now, Blurr. You can't leave.”

Blurr's eye widens

“Is that why you insisted on ‘befriending’ me with all those bullshitters?”

“I needed to make sure that in their minds we weren't just a military unit. To keep them thinking that we're as human as they are. So I gave Project Mecha a face.” He tugs on the hat again, “Your face.”

Blurr runs his fingers through his hair

“Shockwave can't do whatever he wants cause...because of me his efforts would risk going public and people wouldn't like it and it would ruin the reputation of our investors-and-they'd-cut-off-his-funding.”

Swindle puts his hat back on.

“Exactly.’ That's why he's being so persistent right now. He knows you're vulnerable and he wants to capitalize on the opportunity. Make you part of his new project and tell the world about it. Make publicity his weapon, too.”

The lamp above them flickers faintly. Blurr takes a breath. Long and tired and exhausted and. a bit doomed.

Swindle puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Please. Don't leave. At least not now. And don't let Shockwave get to you. That would open the way for him to get to the rest of the pilots you represent.”

They just. Sit in silence for a while. Blurr quickly taps a finger on his knee. A rapid tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.

Swindle moves his hand away and gets up from his chair.

“There's a press conference coming up. I need you to be there. I've told everyone who needs to know that the problem is exaggerated and you're fine but they need to see you.”

Blurr smiles sourly.

“My lawyer is going to charge you such a handsome sum for that stunt.”

Swindle laughs, but his cardboard advertising smile doesn't reach his eyes.

“We’ll see about that. Seriously though. I need you there.”

Blurr bites his lip.

“I..don’t know...”

Swerve...doesn't know what to think of that.

Blurr shows up for the press conference. Late, but he makes it. Just as Shockwave is presenting his new project in his amazingly well-pitched voice. Blurr swings the door open and waltzes lazily inside, skillfully pretending not to notice the many cameras and eyes instantly directed at him.

Swerve, whose memory is still fresh thinks for a second that no, no this can't be the same person. Past Blurr looked like a wreck. Past Blurr was tense and tired and hunched over. Present Blurr couldn't look more alive. His shoulders are squared proudly, there's that cheerful springiness and grace in his stride. He moves with ease and confidence. Smoothly.

The left side of his face is neatly covered with fresh white bandages. Carefully, without leaving the even the slightest gap through which his injury could be seen. His hands are hidden under a fancy jacket. He smiles wide and bright and squints playfully toward the table.

The very embodiment of nonchalance. The few pilots sitting in the audience roll their eyes.

Swindle breathes out a barely perceptible sigh of relief. Swerve, once again using Swindle's collar as a tactical cover, can't help but let out a silent triumphant laugh. Maybe slightly more nervous than he is supposed to be.

Blurr sends Swindle a sly, sharp smile and even knowing it wasn't meant for him, Swerve feels his cheeks heat up.

Ah, damn it.

Swerve breaks the rules. He tells himself that peeking is fraught with consequences when it comes to military organizations, but he can't stop himself from being curious. And from worry, too.

And now that he knows where to look, he sees things he'd rather not see.

Blurr ... is crumbling.

Swerve doesn't know all the details and consequences, but that incident did leave a mark.

But every time Swindle calls him and says “I need you at some place in two hours” he gets up and assembles himself into a human being. Like a goddamn puzzle. Tapes and covers the burned half of his face. Covers up the bruises and hides the stitches. Fixes his hair and sets off on shaky legs to pretend he's fine.

He smiles so bright and carefree, laughs so sweet and beautiful that no one would ever think that even standing up sometimes hurts.

And continues to act like a jerk of course.

The only difference is that this time Swerve mentally gives him the presumption of innocence before he starts judging.

Blurr does a lot of things that seem rude. He also does a lot of things that are actually rude and figuring them out without resorting to alien superpowers would be nearly impossible.

When the pilots see Blurr sitting right on the table while negotiating with investors, they roll their eyes and make comments about his terrible manners. Or when he stops showing up for even the most basic, rudimentary training.

Or when he develops that stupid habit of leaning his elbows on people standing next to him.

It's the model behavior of a rich, spoiled brat.

It's also an inconspicuous way to stay upright.

Employees say “that dumbass has never heard of personal space.”

Investors say, “I think he likes me.”

Blurr leans on Swindle's shoulder and through a charming smile says “Don't move or I'm gonna fall.”

Swindle also keeping up the smile discreetly holds him back, pretending it's a friendly half hug.

Swerve feels like yelling at both of them, but he's not sure what for exactly. For one thing, Blurr in his condition is very VERY VERY contraindicated to even get out of bed, let alone participate in social activities.

On the other hand, without Blurr, everything is going down the pit.

Without Blurr, all the government sees are dry reports and spreadsheets. Without him, all the high command has is numbers and a sense of impunity. Swerve is sickened by how easily people tend to forget that numbers represent other people.

Most pilots are able to draw a parallel between deteriorating working conditions and Blurr's sudden fondness for staying home instead of working. But they think the rich jerk got scared and ran away. Considering the way Blurr has always behaved at work - Swerve can't even judge them too much for it. They assume Shockwave getting more freedom is the cause of Blurr's absence, not the result.

Blurr's influence only becomes noticeable when it slowly starts to fade away. It's like switching from expensive tea to a cheaper one. The awful flavor only becomes noticeable in contrast.

Blurr doesn't lead the development of new technologies or go out to fight in the field. He doesn't make plans and reports, he doesn't participate in drills, he doesn't cover anyone's back in battle.

But he's the one who puts his hand on the government's shoulders when they're about to sign the next piece of paper. He's the one they have to look in the eye before they have a pen in their hands and a document authorizing Shockwave to stick more needles in people's brains.

It makes a difference. Small one. But still.

It turns a disembodied imaginary “combat units” into a tangible person.

From “do you want to accelerate the combat training of new soldiers” to “are you willing to tell the living, breathing guy standing in front of you that shoving poison under his skin is an idea you approve of.”

More importantly (And Swerve actually admires Swindle for this) Will you be able to explain anything to your families later on, when this same guy is on TV all over the country saying that's what you did to him?

There have been two fronts here all this time, Swerve realizes.

While the pilots were protecting people from monsters wearing teeth and armor, Blurr was protecting the pilots themselves from monsters wearing ties and lab coats.

After another conference, Shockwave stops Blurr in the hallway.

“Good show.”

Blurr laughs. Soundly and proudly.

“Thanks darling~ Sorry I interrupted you. Your speech sounded like something important, but I don't really know much about nerd stuff.”

Swerve, hiding on the ceiling again, snorts.

Shockwave doesn't move. Doesn't give any indication at all if he's offended or upset or whatever.

“It must have been hard getting here with your injuries.”

Blurr shrugs and lazily turns his head around distracted.

“It's just a few bruises here and there. Not the end of the world.”

Shockwave nods slowly. His voice and posture and all, Swerve thinks, looking very uncomfortable.

“Of course it isn't. But hardly good for your career.”

Blurr freezes.

No, Swerve thinks. Shit. No, don't listen to him, don't listen to him, don't listen to him, don't

“Your brilliant achievements have always been a source of admiration to me” continues Shockwave “it would be a pity to lose them.”

Blurr makes an indifferent face and tucks his hands into his pockets.

“Like I said. Not the end of the world.”

Swerve imagines choking Shockwave. Dropping a lamp on his head. Maybe jumping on top of him himself. Shut up, he thinks. Shut up, shut up, stop fucking talking.

Shockwave with a nice, slow gesture pulls out a notebook from somewhere and flips a couple pages.

“Multiple burns, cracked ribs, poisoning from carbon monoxide and combustion products of toxic chemicals...”

Blurr visibly shivers and looks away.

“...loss of vision on one side...” Shockwave continues reading, ”and partial hearing loss. Finally, the impact of neural link malfunctions. And this, if I'm not mistaken, is on top of the already existing memory problems?”

Shockwave takes a step closer. Not fast enough to make it look threatening, but enough to hover.

“It may not be the end of the world, but it is the end of you.”

He writes a set of numbers on the same page, tears it off, and hands it to Blurr.

“You are broken. I can fix you.”

Blurr frowns, but takes the piece of paper.

“That fixing would involve giving you consent to mess around with my head, wouldn't it? It's brave of you to think I'd go for that.”

Shockwave tucks the notepad into his pocket.

“I can assure you, neither I nor anyone else is interested in your brain. I just want to give you back what you're truly valued for.”

Blurr flinches.

“I don't need your help.”

“ If you say so,” Shockwave agrees easily. Nods, slowly and smoothly. Then starts to walk away “But you do need your fame.”

...

“By the way, you might want to wipe the blood off.”

Blurr waits until Shockwave's back disappears around the corner, then quickly pulls a tissue from his pocket and brings it up to his nose.

____________________________

Swerve wakes up looking up at the ceiling of his room. The high, metal ceiling, of a metal room on a metal spaceship.

Holy shit...

Jazz pokes him gently on the forearm

“Are you alive? You've been gone for like quite a while...Did it work?”

“Hey Jazz” frowns Swerve “what do you know about Blurr?”

Jazz laughs

“What are you fanboying over him again? Still??? Dude's smug and arrogant. Good boss though. I was hired to perform at his parties before I became a pilot.”

Swerve sits up and rubs the back of his head.

“Ah...”

“So it worked?”

“Wha...ah! Yes! Yes, it worked! I managed to get the number and codes from the space bridge the Quints used on you. We just need to find another space bridge and we'll have a pretty much direct route to Earth...well. Or rather, to the Quint ship that's located near Earth. You get the idea.”

Jazz rubs his hands together happily.

“I'll take it.”

Swerve jumps to the floor and heads to grab an energon cube. Man, these holoform exercises are burning energy like crazy.

He stares at his metal hands like an idiot for a couple minutes. Just...Contemplates how non-human they are.

He has eight fingers again instead of the human ten. Huh.

Prowl downloads the information he's gotten and immediately runs off to plan a route to the nearest working space bridge and for a while Swerve is just.

Left to himself.

He tries not to think about Blurr. What would he even say to him? Hey, look, I'm sorry I accidentally set you up, see, I'm actually an alien who was sleepwalking and thought you were fictional, surely this won't affect our non-existent strictly professional working relationship? Nah, screw that. If he's going to sound crazy, he needs to at least come up with a good presentation for his insanity.

....

Is it weird to think humans are beautiful if you're not human? If you're kind of human, but only in your soul and only half human?

He looks at Jazz and Prowl.

“You two get along really well.”

Jazz chuckles, sitting on Prowl's shoulder.

“Right now, yes. But we got on each other's nerves quite a bit when we first met.”

Swerve looks up at Jazz's chattering legs from his height and thinks. This is working somehow.

On the other hand, Jazz is the exception rather than the rule. He's friendly with everyone, he's easy to get along with, he's the soul of any company and most importantly, he was a little too much into robots before he discovered they could be alive. If anyone could find common ground with the Cybertronians, it would definitely be Jazz.

_____________________

”Are you a ghost?”

Swerve shrieks in fear and gets covered in static. He hadn't planned on talking. He hadn't planned on being noticed at all. Blurr was supposed to be asleep! And Swerve just wanted to close the curtains and leave, because there's some noisy party going on outside and bright illuminations are very bad for a patient already suffering from neural connection withdrawal.

He freezes in place like that dude from Jurassic Park. Like if he's still enough, he won't be noticed. Oh, or was that from another movie?

“I'm just uh” he awkwardly reaches up and closes the curtains “Lights. Bad for...you...now.”

Blurr chuckles. It sounds suspiciously joyful. His whole posture and facial expression. He looks very relaxed for someone who had a ghost materialize into the room out of thin air.

Swerve traces the line of the IV with his gaze. Oops, that looks like painkillers.

“Yes I am. Uh. A ghost watching the curtains. And now the curtains are fine, so I guess I'd better go?”

Blurr squints amusedly.

“You can walk through walls?”

“Uh, I can teleport into the next room?”

He backs up his words by making himself disappear and reappear in another corner of the room.

“Cool!” says Blurr cheerfully.

Swerve is involuntarily infected by his mood and makes a couple dramatic bows as if he were some kind of magician.

“ Show me more?”

“Hehehe okay eh” Swerve spreads his arms like he's presenting something and then makes himself the size of a soda bottle and teleports to the edge of Blurr's bed “Ta daaaa~”

“Wooooo look at you, you're like an action figure~”

Blurr immediately makes an attempt to touch him, but fails to reach and drops his hand back on the blanket.

Swerve chuckles and steps closer. It's funny to see the usually incredibly agile Blurr struggling with something so simple and ridiculous.

“They really drugged you huh?”

“It's not the drugs” snorts Blurr ”...it's my eye.”

He raises his hand once more and hesitantly pulls it towards Swerve until it bumps into his hair

“... depths Per…percen.. ah, shit. I can't tell how far away things are.”

Swerve just. Lets Blurr fidget at himself, while starting to feel really bad at the same time.

"If you can't tell how far things are, how are you going to drive?

Race???”

He must have a plan right? Something? Let’s-prove-Shockwave-wrong tactic???

Blurr drops his hands back on the blanket

“I won't.”

He freezes when the all too close fireworks rumble outside the window. Then points to his head.

“With this. I can't drive, I can barely walk at all, and I look like horror movie material. Pathetic heeh.”

Swerve sits down quietly cross-legged on the blanket.

“Well...at least you're alive....”

Blurr shakes his head.

“If I had died, it would have been epic. You know? Dharm...dramatic! It would be big news and everyone would be talking about what a hero I was or...or something...”

“...”

“Swindle would be so angry, but he'd figure out a way to make money out of it. He'd make a commercial about how people should be heroes. I'd be remn..remembered for being cool and brave and stuff.”

Fireworks can be heard from the street again. Swerve notices that there is a thin slit between the closed curtains through which a slim, flickering strip of multicolored light streams into the room.

Blurr frowns and leans back against the pillow, looking up at the ceiling.

“I've turned into a boring wreck. My records will be beaten, my career forgotten , and all the guys from work will remember me as a brat. In a--in a--in a way, it's worse than death. Shockwave's right.”

Swerve isn't sure what exactly would be an acceptable gesture of comfort, so he kind of just. Places his hand on the blanket covering Blurr's lap.

“Hey, don't say that. I think what you're doing is great.”

“Liar” smiles Blurr crookedly ”You hated me. I saw your posters collection.”

Oh shit. The ones he ripped off the walls and destroyed in a fit of fan frustration? He didn't even hide them, just shoved them in the back corner. Aw, man...

Swerve folds his arms awkwardly across his chest.

“I can be mad at you and think you're cool at the same time. I'm a multitasker.”

“You're a very specific kind of ghost.” says Blurr. Then, apparently inspired by the painkillers, decides to drop the conversational equivalent of an atomic bomb on Swerve's head “You died because of me?”

Swerve stiffens.

“I...Wwhat?”

“You know.” he makes a gesture with his hand that's ..unclear what it's supposed to mean. “You were working there with everyone else, and then there was that fire and I was sure I saw you down there under the rubble.”

He's silent for a couple seconds before he hesitantly continues

“And then no one could find you so most assumed you either burned or ran away. And now you're here with all your weird ghost stuff, so you must be dead.”

Swerve has.No idea what to think about it. And what to say? He's been so busy blaming himself for Blurr getting hurt that it hasn't occurred to him to think about what it looks like from Blurr's own perspective.

“Actually” says Swerve ”I'm an alien.”

“Heh” giggles Blurr ”sorry, my head’s all cloudy, I thought you said you were an alien.”

Swerve wants to run around and bang his head against the wall.

Instead, he gets up from the hospital bed. Carefully.

“You're high. I'm not going to explain things to you while you're high, you won't understand or remember them. Go back to sleep. It's the middle of the night.”

“You'll tell me later?”

Swerve hums quietly and pulls the curtains all the way closed.

“If future, sober Blurr would want my company.”

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

Jazz looks at him. Very intensely.

“Are you going to tell me who this mystery person you keep coming back to Earth for?”

Swerve snorts.

“What makes you think it's anyone in particular?”

“You're right, you're right~” raises his hands in surrender Jazz “So are you going to tell your friend the whole thing?”

Swerve crosses his ..metal arms over his metal chest.

“Is it that big of a deal? He thinks I'm a ghost or something.”

Being a ghost...somehow better, he thinks. If you're a ghost, it kind of automatically implies you're human. Or was a human.

“Sooner or later, he'll put the facts together~” says Jazz in a chant.

Swerve laughs.

“That's unlikely. He's got a pretty bad memory.”

_______________

His plans to stay out of anyone's sight combust with a dramatic pop the next time he projects himself to Earth. He doesn't plan to interfere, he doesn't even plan to linger. He just wants to see what's going on.

He actually just quietly sneaks into the hospital to make sure nothing's happened to Blurr since last time, but when he finally finds him then...oh shit, is that Pharma in the same room with him??? This can't be good.

They don't speak, but Pharma has clearly locked his eyes on Blurr and starts making his way towards him with the relentlessness of a industrial metal press.

Swerve does some rough math in his head. If he briefly gives his holoform back its detail and voice, will that be enough to fry his processor? He's not sure.

Pharma gives a believable impression of a shark getting close. The staff, as if sensing something untoward is about to happen, leaves the room in a hurry.

Blurr looks indifferent, but Swerve's attention is drawn to the way he squints tensely. Man, the lamps are too bright in here.

Pharma smiles sweetly and reaches out for a handshake

“Mind some company?”

Swerve's mental processes fly out the window. Oh no no. Not Pharma. Not in his fucking fanfic. He quickly changes his work clothes into a slightly more business-like looking shirt. Thinks for just a moment and adds a cap to his head to blend in more strongly with the attendants and hide his face to an extent. And then projects himself around the nearest unoccupied corner and runs out of behind it looking as anxious as he feels.

“Blurr!!! Sir, there you are!!! I've been looking everywhere for you!”

Pharma wants to say something, but Swerve doesn't even let him start. He stands in front of Blurr separating him and Farma expressively waves his hands trying to keep his head down.

“The guys you were talking about didn't bring the new hydraulics! It's a disaster, we'll have to use the one on the old models!”

Blurr, to his surprise, backs up his act almost instantly

“Really? But I thought there was nothing to take from the old models?”

“That's exactly the point! I got the paperwork this morning and...oh those assholes are going to screw it up if you don't step in as soon as possible!”

Pharma tilts his head

“Can it wait? We were actually talking here!”

Oh no, thinks Swerve I'll show you who's talking.

“Sir, no offense but this is a matter of extreme urgency. Are you implying that the safety of your patients is not important?”

“What do you mea...”

“Old faulty hydraulics, that's what you want?” raises an eyebrow in horror Blurr.

“No I'm just...”

“I had a better opinion of you, to be honest.”

“I...” opens his mouth Pharma “...WHAT...?”

Swerve shakes his head.

“And I thought his profession was to help people, can you imagine?”

“Wh..”

Blurr rolls his eye.

“Any idiot can get an important position these days.”

“Wait..”

“Tell me about it. Especially doctors.”

Pharma looks like he's about to start pulling the hair out of his head.

“Can at least one of you shut up??”

Swerve adjusts his cap in a businesslike manner

“Sir, I understand you're a bit detached from reality spending so much time in your department, but you need to take better care of your reputation.”

He raises his eyebrows knowingly

“Wouldn't want the rumors about you to turn out to be true. You know what I mean?”

Pharma doesn't even answer anymore. Pharma just looks like a discarded fish.

“…..Wha....there's rumors?”

“Of course” shrugs Swerve ”Ask Norman, he usually knows everything about everyone. And about your interesting tricks with safety, too.”

He leans in conspiratorially, effectively pulling all of Farma's attention to himself

“So if I were you, I'd stay out of any more things you don't understand.”

Pharma wants to say something. Swerve can tell by the look in his eyes. Pharma tries to come up with a witty and context-appropriate response, but this whole conversation has no more context than a typical episode of Teletubbies.

“Where does this Norman guy work?” finally finds the ground beneath his feet Pharma

Swerve shrugs.

“Block C, if he hasn't been transferred yet. He's already been fined several times for spreading harmful information you know? The guy can't keep a secret.”

Pharma throws his hands up angrily and storms away. Probably looking for context. Or revenge.

A quiet cough sounds behind Swerve's back.

“So. Should I be worried about Norman's health?”

Swerve feels the hair on the back of his neck shiver and slowly turns to face Blurr while still looking somewhere on the floor.

“Uh...only if you're concerned about the fate of fictional characters. I made up Norman's wife, she'll be upset if he gets fired for gossiping.”

Blurr chuckles. Then goes silent. Then, after a couple seconds, starts laughing again. That's a good look for him, Swerve thinks. It's not like Blurr's usual velvet-smooth laugh that he uses at social events. It's more like a quick, jerky giggle, and in Swerve's subjective opinion, it's pretty damn cute. He can't help but grin.

Blurr snorts one last time, cutting off the laughter.

Then he reaches out his hand to him.

Swerve reaches back, expecting a handshake, but Blurr ignores his hand and instead goes for his cap and lifts it by the brim.

Swerve, not expecting this, freezes with his hand outstretched.

Blurr freezes as well, still holding the cap in his hand and looking...like he's rethinking his life. A little.

Ugh, and how to explain it all to him....

“Uh...you...uh...probably don't remember me. I...it's...”

Blurr shifts his gaze from Swerve to the cap in his hand. Then back to Swerve.

“You're real???”

Swerve awkwardly waves his hands in front of him

“Ah not.., not really. Do you know why Pharma was looking for you in the first place? He doesn't work with patients anymore, he's been reassigned to the research department, right?”

Blurr shrugs.

“Last time I saw him, he said I might have implant rejection in the third ..uh..what? stage? or something? I think he's trying to get me in for a checkup.”

Swerve twitches.

“Third??? How are you still standing???”

He then quickly reaches up with both hands to Blurr's head and tilts it so he can see his face better. Using one thumb, he pulls his lower eyelid slightly and mentally catalogs. Temperature normal, pupil normal, eyes are steady, no darkening or trace of blood on the eyelid. Implants? He puts both palms up and gently feels the places behind Blurr's ears. No signs of rejection or malfunction.

“No no no” sighs Swerve ”You're fine, it's only stage two. I mean, second sucks too, migraines and all, but you just need to rest and no bright lights and...” he finally notices his hands are still on Blurr's head and pulls them back as fast as if he's been burned ”I MEAN I'm uh...sorry, I didn't mean to, I...”

Blurr laughs quietly.

“I'm glad you're back.”

_____________________

He wakes up in his quarters and can feel his face burning.

When he goes out to get the energon, Jazz throws him a look.

“Is something wrong? You're all kinda...shaky.”

“Hhhhhhuuuuuuuuuuuu” imitates signs of life Swerve “Say, doesn't it bother you that Prowl isn't human?”

Jazz smiles

“ Oh, I went crazy when I found out. But we figured it out.”

“Like...on a scale from ‘bad grade in school’ to ‘an asteroid is coming to Earth’ how crazy was it?”

“Worried about what your human friends will think?”

Swerve swings back and forth on his heels

“Pfffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff. Whatnooooo, no of course not. I'd be worried if I planned on telling them at all.”

Jazz frowns

“No offense, but keeping secrets isn't your strong suit.”

“Haha” Swerve waves his servo “ Watch me.”

[cvnntagious]

fb!matt getting flirted with by another girl and he entertains it but then realises he has you

standing beside his brother as he handed out little baggies of white powder to feining college students, matt paid no mind to the party as he scrolled his phone, red solo cup in one hand. the bustling of party-goers and flashing lights surrounding him had faded as he became focused on the mobile game he'd deemed more important.

"excuse me," he suddenly heard from in front of him, causing his eyes to flick up from the multi-colored blocks on his screen, "is your name matthew?" a pretty girl asked, dressed in fishnets with a miniskirt and tight top that barely covered her breasts as she flicked her long black hair over her shoulder.

he nodded, unamused expression unwavering. "matt," he corrected, lifting his hand to gesture a thumb behind him, "chris is the one with the drugs, if that-"

her hand covered his, pushing it down slowly as he shook her head with a smug little smirk splayed across her dark, glossy lips. "i don't want any of those drugs," she stopped him from further wasting his breath, voice a little lower now, "i heard you have one of your own that you're keeping from me though, and- well, i'm lookin' to get my fix."

matt immediately got the hint, a small smirk tugging at his parted lips before he let out an exasperated breath, looking the shorter girl over as he found himself crossing his arms at her. "yeah?" he asked, a chuckle that exuded confidence leaving his mouth, "and where'd y'hear that?"

"a friend—she said what you got won't do anything less than rock my world," she replied instantly, a flirty giggle falling past her pearly whites and eyelashes batting as she looked up at him. "just wanna see if it's true or not..." she then added, stepping in close to him so she could run her sharp, manicured nails up his tattooed arm.

matt's eyes followed her fingers, tongue jutting out to wet his pink lips so he could hold back the leer that threatened to creep onto his face. "mhm." and just as his mouth opened to voice the complacent reply that had popped into his mind, the memory of you having texted him earlier about not being able to make it to chris' party canceled it out, making him realize he'd forgotten to text you back. "shit," he muttered, any sign of interest in the absolutely stunning girl that was so clearly throwing herself at him completely dropping in his body language.

she quickly noticed the change in his demeanor, confusion replacing the flirtatious expression she once had. "what?"

a sigh was all she heard before she watched him roll his eyes at her seemingly out of nowhere. he pulled his arm from her touch, a sudden annoyance, and maybe even disgust apparent on his sharp features. "i got a girl," he then replied bluntly, a brow raising as if to say 'so get to movin'

the scoff of disbelief that left came from the girl in front of him made matt roll his eyes again. "you have a girlfriend?" she questioned, as if there was absolutely no way that could possibly be true.

"she's not my girlfriend, but uh... y'know," he countered, a smooth shrug as a cocky smile creeped on his face at the thought of having you wrapped around his finger, "i got 'er."

"yeah right. and you suddenly remembered you had her after you seemed all interested before?" another scoff, further proving she didn't believe him, "some boyfriend you are."

"where'd you say y'heard about me again?" he then asked, face dropping to one of disinterest as he looked over her again, no longer so impressed by her looks.

"my friend?"

"yeah," he chuckled lowly, finding her persistence the slightest bit amusing, "some friend you are." with that, his eyes fell back to his phone, swiping out of the game on it as he now ignored the girl before him, standing there for a moment in shock.

sweetheart

today 6:47 PM : ' i won't be able to make it to the party tn, sorry :( '

today 11:23 PM : ' and why's that? '

today 11:24 PM : ' actually whatever. done with this shit anyways. wya so i can come see you? '

[alexthetrashyracoon]

Fantasy au nobody asked for but I give you anyway.

Tags: Flowerfairy Reader, traveling mercenary Ghost, a bit of cursing, momentarily character death but we stay above the ground don't worry, a bit angsty but it gets a happy ending, I promise <3 (if that flops I'll cry)

Word count: 1350

"We shouldn't go this way." They flatly said and fluttered next to Ghost's face, brows in a pinch with their hands pressed against their rips. "It's dangerous."

Ghost grunted and swatted at them, not hard enough to hurt them or cause them to crash to the ground, but to get them out of his face. "You've been traveling with me long enough. You should know by now I don't care how dangerous it is as long as it gets me to the place I need to get." He says and leaves the cobbled path to take the short cut through the woods.

They huff and flutter after him. "I warned you."

It's been three months since Ghost met the little flower fairy, caught in some bandits' bottle. Ghost was hunting the group of bandits down, a big fat reward waiting for him when he brought back the leader, dead or alive it didn't matter.

So when he cleaned the camp, he found the bottle that had rolled under a sack and at first, Ghost had discarded it as trash, not looking twice at it but then he heard the little banging sound on glass and checked the bottle again, finding the little thing inside.

At first Ghost wasn't sure if he could believe his eyes. It wasn't everyday after all that someone came across a fairy, tiny human with wings on their back, but they pinched Ghost hard enough for him to believe it.

Ever since then Ghost allowed the fairy to graciously follow him, if they promised to keep their mouth shut, which they never truly did. They were talking all the time, chatting about whatever was on their mind. And Ghost, he would never admit that out loud, actually enjoyed the company for once. He was used to traveling alone, never bonding with others or keeping friendships alive for long. But something about the fairy was different.

At the end of the shortcut, Ghost finds himself standing in an opening that looks quite peaceful, not enough for him to drop his guard but the scenery is nice for a change.

He turns around to face the fairy who sits on his shoulder like usually when their wings get tired. They barely weigh anything more than a feather, even if he teases them all the time that if they keep eating so many cookies that he won't be able to keep walking with them on his shoulder. They always pout in return and don't talk to him for exactly ten minutes before chatting about some flower they have passed on their way.

"See. No danger around." Ghost grunts and decides it's time for a break, to replenish his strength and energy while enjoying a bit of nature's beauty. He puts down his backpack and sits down next to it. "Wake me in an hour."

The wake-up call never comes, or at least, not an hour later, but several hours, considering that the sun is going down right now and Ghost finds himself in a cage with his arms bound behind his back with rough rope. "The fuck is going on?" He asks, his tongue heavy as he speaks, eyes needing a few moments to focus again, ears still ringing, making hearing hard. Someone must have knocked him out cold when he took a nap, how embarrassing for someone like him to get caught off-guard by some amateur bandits.

Something... Someone, steps in front of the cage. "Look at that. The shithead who killed my brother is awake." That someone kicks the bars of the cage, making Ghost flinch at the rattling sound that comes with it.

He quickly gathers himself again, checking the guy outside the cage but not recognizing the person. "I killed many brothers... So, who the fuck are you?" Ghost asks, sounding overly confident, as always, even in situations where he should show a bit of restraint. Especially in situations like this.

The person grabs onto the bars of the cage and rattles them, baring his teeth like an animal. "You dick. I'll make you remember before... Hey! What the fuck! What is that?!" The bandit jumps and swats at something in the air but can't quite catch it.

Ghost's eyes widen, his fairy is back, he has been asking himself where they have gotten lost while he was in that cage. But he can't let their distraction be for nothing, he uses the chance to break the binding and steal the key from the bandits' leather belt to get out of the cage.

"Shit!" The bandit curses as he turns to look between Ghost and whatever is attacking him but decides to ultimately pay attention to Ghost, the bigger threat. Ghost's fairy uses the chance to get away to safety, leaving Ghost to fight without worrying about getting them into more danger.

It's clear as day that Ghost is no amateur and that there was no way in hell that the bandit would ever win. But somehow he managed to get away, right where Ghost's little fairy waited for him.

Ghost isn't fast enough to save them, he watches as the now bleeding bandit grabs the little fluttering thing and squeezes his hand shut until the noises stop and the forest completely falls silent.

He makes quick work of the bandit, he doesn't even look at his face as he cuts off his head. All he cares for is the little fairy in the bandits hand that's laying there, like a little doll, unmoving.

"Come now. Don't play with me, little fairy." Ghost says and picks their body up with shaking hands.

He never felt like this before, so damn helpless and clueless. What is he supposed to do? How can he turn back time to get his fairy back. The little chattering fairy that he learned to care for.

"I know you warned me it's dangerous... I should have listened." He says, not crying. He can't. He won't. Ghost never cries. Even if he wants to. "It's my fault you're dead. I'm sorry."

He remembers the promise they made a few weeks ago.

"Let's see the world together. You and I." They have happily announced back then and Ghost couldn't say now to their happy, smiling face. "Let's see the world together. You and I."

He would give his own life just for one more chance with them.

A single tear rolls down Ghost's cheek. It's more than he ever allowed himself before. It lands on their tiny body, staining their clothes.

Ghost searches for a spot to bury them, he knows they love flowers, so why not bury them in a field of them.

Just as he's finished with the hole in the ground, the air picks up, the breeze becomes warmer with flower petals and leaves flying through the air, surrounding him.

"That hole is way too small for someone as big as me."

Ghost knows that voice, he looks down only to find the body missing. Instead he sees naked feet, human feet standing in front of him, he looks up, following the long legs.

"How?" He asks, ignoring their nakedness and standing up, touching them, their humanly sized body. "I saw your dead body. He squeezed..."

"I don't know, Ghost. In my last moment I just remembered that we promised to travel the world together and when I opened my eyes again, I saw you on your knees, digging that hole." They explain with a smile, gratefully taking the woolen cloak from Ghost's hands and wrapping it around their shoulders. "I think Lady Fate is still not done with our story, Ghost."

At first it was a big change, gone was the tiny fairy fluttering around his head all the time, but Ghost quickly got used to seeing the other human next to him every night and day. Ghost had to teach them how to be human at first but he was sure that this was a challenge they would master too. One step at a time. And this time, Ghost would listen to his fairy turned human more often.

[lucy90712]

Coming home for Christmas- Jude Bellingham

A/n: Happy holidays guys, I have one more Christmas story to come out in the next few days and then a surprise new mini series for new years so get ready Christmas is supposed to be a happy and joyful time of year but this year I just can't get myself in the Christmas spirit. My boyfriend Jude was supposed to spend Christmas with me and my family this year I left a week before Christmas to spend more time with my family and he was supposed to join us after his last league game but due to bad weather he hasn't been able to get a flight. He's been trying for days and last night he text me and said the last flight that would get here on time got cancelled and he wouldn't be able to make it. I had to hide my sadness in front of my siblings as they didn't need me to ruin Christmas for them but once they had gone to bed I did have a good cry with my mum. 

Last year I spent Christmas with Jude's family so this year we were supposed to switch and he'd spend Christmas with my family for the first time. I was so excited to have him here and so were my parents and siblings as they love Jude. We had so many plans and Jude was going to join in with all the family Christmas traditions like the matching pyjamas which I have on while I cry looking at Jude's untouched pair on the dresser in my room. Jude did promise to FaceTime me for most of the day but it just won't be the same as having him here. 

~~~~~~~~~~

I must've fallen asleep at some point last night as I got woken up by my youngest sister jumping on top of me yelling that Santa had been. She was trying to drag me out of bed and straight downstairs but I managed to convince her to wait just a minute which gave me just enough time to brush my teeth and grab a hoodie to keep me warm. It was only as I walked down the stairs I realised I had one of Jude's hoodies on which made me miss him all over again. Yet again I put on a smile as all my younger siblings were so excited and looking at all the gifts waiting for them under the tree. 

The kids really wanted to open presents but my parents insisted we all have breakfast first which in recent years has become my job as everyone loves my pancake recipe. I got the hint and got up to start making the pancakes but before I could get very far the doorbell rang and because I was closest I offered to answer it. My parents didn't say anything which has me a bit confused as I thought they'd be more curious about who was at the door at 7am on Christmas Day but I didn't think much else of it. 

I opened the door still holding the spoon I was about to use to mix the pancake batter but that quickly landed on the ground when I saw Jude stood in front of me. I couldn't believe it he wasn't supposed to be here but here he is stood right in front of me. After taking a second to process what just happened I jumped into his arms which luckily he was expecting and he caught me holding me tightly to his chest. 

"What are you doing here I thought your flight was cancelled" I said 

"I may have lied the flight was delayed for a while but I got in at 3am and slept in the airport for a bit before getting a taxi here to surprise you I thought it would be fun to see your face when I turned up which is why I didn't tell you" he said 

"This is the best Christmas present ever I was so sad that you were going to miss everything but now you're here you can help me make pancakes as that's the first tradition we have" I said excitedly 

"Let me bring my bags in then I'll help make your famous pancakes" he said 

I helped him bring in his suitcases and he took one up to my room but he told me to leave the other one downstairs as it had presents in. He greeted all of my family on his way back down and  made sure to act over the top excited when the kids showed him all the gifts under the tree. Eventually he escaped and helped me make the pancakes and serve them as they came out the pan. As Jude can’t take anything seriously for more than five minutes once I'd made both of us some pancakes he grabbed the whipped cream and put some on the pancakes but also my nose. He managed to take a picture before I could wipe the cream off and put it in his face instead. We had to clean up otherwise I'd get in trouble but we laughed the entire time which really made me happy as this is exactly what I wished today would be like. 

After breakfast it was time to open presents so Jude went and got his second suitcase which was completely filled with presents which he'd clearly wrapped himself as they weren't very neat but it's the thought that counts. He'd got a couple presents for all my siblings and my parents then he piled the rest of them up in front of me. He has a tendency to go a bit overboard with presents but I didn't expect him to get so much for the rest of my family too as I told him that he didn't have to and I could put some of my presents from him too. The kids all opened their presents first which they were very happy with especially their gifts from Jude as he got them all things they really wanted so they were happy. 

While they played with their new toys the rest of us took turns opening gifts. Jude really showed me up with the gifts he got my parents but I'm ok with it as it just shows me that I picked the best boyfriend who cares for my entire family not just me. I managed to redeem myself with my presents for Jude as I went all out I got him things I knew he'd like but also some more sentimental personal gifts which he seemed to really love. Jude can be hard to buy for as he already has everything and he makes a hell of a lot more than I do but I like getting him things that mean something. Jude like always got me things he knew I'd love and like always he was right although I think I'm going to need another suitcase to get it all back out Madrid. 

Just when I thought he couldn't possibly have bought any more gifts for me he grabbed my hand and took me to my room upstairs where he handed me a small wrapped box. I took the wrapping paper off but hesitated for a second before opening the box because part of me wondered if it was an engagement ring and as much as I love Jude we said we would wait a bit longer to take that next step in our relationship. My heart rate felt like it tripled when I opened the box and saw a beautiful but delicate ring but Jude quickly managed to calm me down. 

"Don't worry this isn't an engagement ring I know we agreed to wait for that but I wanted you to have something that showed how much I love you and shows my commitment to you until the day I give you a proper ring so I guess this a promise ring my promise to always be there by your side and to love you" he said nearly making me cry 

"Jude that's the sweetest thing you've ever said and this ring is beautiful" I said 

"I hoped you'd like it and I get if you don't want to wear it on your ring finger we don't want to give people the wrong impression but I thought you could wear it on your right hand and it could be our little secret only we know the true meaning behind it" he said 

"Thats a great idea" I said leaning in to kiss him 

"I do have them sometimes" he joked 

I gave him another kiss before he put the ring on my finger and we headed back downstairs. It was a matter of seconds before Jude was stolen from me by my brothers to play football even though it's freezing outside. Before I knew it I'd been roped in too and I was forced to be in goal but it was kind of ok with me as it meant I could put on thicker gloves and pretend they are goalkeeping gloves. Jude taught the boys a lot of little tricks which they picked up quickly and soon they were able to get just as many goals past me as Jude. They had fun but eventually even they felt the cold and we all got to go back inside where my sister was waiting with her new dolls that Jude got her so he was made to play with her but he didn't seem to mind. One of the many reasons I love Jude is because he's so good with all my siblings and they all love him so much when I come home they always ask for Jude even when he's not with me. 

Jude eventually got freed from doll playing duties and we got to relax for a little while before my mum started cooking the Christmas dinner and I agreed to help along with Jude who decided he didn't want to leave my side. I was a little nervous about him helping as he's not the best cook in fact he's the worst cook I know but with detailed instructions he did quite well dealing with the vegetables. As he watched the water bubbling his arms wrapped around my waist while I made the Yorkshire puddings which didn't help me at all but he's cute and I've missed him in our week apart so I let him. Once my part was done my mum made us go and enjoy ourselves which we didn't need to be told twice we finally got a few minutes to ourselves to relax and cuddle on the sofa. 

Dinner was lovely my mum did a great job and Jude was proud of his contribution so I didn't bother telling him the carrots were slightly overdone. For the whole meal he had a hand on my thigh occasionally rubbing circles on it all while smiling at me like he'd just seen a puppy. His smile was so infectious that we were both smiling at each other throughout the entire meal and completely in our down world. This is exactly how I pictured Christmas with Jude being the little moments like playing with my siblings, cooking together and enjoying dinner together really just made my heart feel filled with love and the Christmas spirit. 

After dinner we didn't have to help with cleaning up as we both helped cook so Jude carried me upstairs over his shoulders to my room. He insisted that we put on our matching pyjamas as he missed that part of my family tradition and then he made sure we took pictures together which he promised he would post but I know in a few hours one will be on his instagram story. Despite it only being 8pm we got ready for bed and got under the covers to cuddle as that's the only thing that felt right to end off the perfect day. Just when I thought things couldn't get any better Jude put on miracle on 34th street which I love to watch but he doesn't so I know he did it just for me. 

"I'm so glad you could make it today has been the best day" I said 

"Me too your whole family are so lovely your brothers are going to be great footballers, your sister has one hell of an imagination and your parents are just so kind to me" he said 

"They all love you so much probably more than me but that's ok because I love seeing all of you get along" I said 

"Well my family loves you more than me so I guess we're even" he joked 

"I guess we are" I smiled kissing him before settling back down to finish watching the movie

[v1rtualsalvat10n]

𓆩♡𓆪 how to tell you goodbye

— weeks after his mysterious disappearance, lu shows up at your door with a message for you.

notes :: TW FOR DUBCON. uh yeah I find the idea of him apologizing for doing what he has to do very hot. f!reader sorry guys this is self indulgent

You don't remember how long it's been.

But you know it'd been long enough for you to stop wondering if he was actually coming back or not, and try to cope with that fact. He was gone - there was very little doubt in your mind about that. He'd stopped responding to calls and messages, his socials went cold, his friends, at least the ones you knew, hadn't heard anything either.

He disappeared. And the last thing you ever heard from him was that he was planning on doing something... real. But he never told you what. He could be dead for all you know, and there was nothing you could do about it.

It took a pretty big toll on you. He was one of the few friends you had, and just like that he was gone. Just when things were looking up for you, your support system just had to vanish into thin air. You missed him, fuck, you missed him more than anything. You missed your little coffee shop dates, the weekend parties, playing games in your apartment when it was lonely, sitting in the park together just talking for hours.

You miss those little looks he gave you when he thought you weren't looking, the way that some of your mannerisms made him smile, the nights where your conversations would get real and you'd cry on his shoulder when it was too much for you. You miss how he'd let you.

You missed the moment when he made you look at him, and wiped your tears with his thumb, letting the tension between you two linger for longer than it should. You missed his warm, shaky breath against your cheek. But you missed the most that moment when you felt his lips on yours, just for that few seconds.

You didn't miss the way he seemed to have regretted it after.

But you remembered that the clearest of all... watching the guilt in his eyes set in as he moved away from you, standing from your couch and rushing for his bags, saying that "it was getting late" or some lie like that. You remembered how he didn't even look back at you as he walked out of your door.

And that was the last day you saw him. He texted you the next morning.

"Hey, I probably won't be able to see you for a while. Working on stuff. Gonna do something real with my life."

What the fuck did that even mean? It made you angry, irrationally so. It probably only made you angry because you thought it was your fault. But god dammit, that felt valid! You felt like you had a fair reason to be pissed. It was no secret you liked him - it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out either! He'd do something like that so carelessly, and then just throw you out?

You hated it. Maybe you'd feel better with an explanation, but the truth of the matter is that he kissed you and then mysteriously disappeared, not to be seen again. And how were you not supposed to make assumptions in that situation?

And so you'd spend your days by yourself. With no more Luigi to rely on to keep you from spiraling, you'd been curled up in your room by yourself, scrolling through his social media posts, rereading your message logs to see if there's something you'd missed.

You had a jacket of his he left at your place, and every night you'd wrap a pillow in it and breathe in the mix of cologne and his natural scent until it lulled you to sleep.

It wasn't enough. You wish he'd come back, but even if he did, what was there to say? Even if he apologized, you didn't know that you'd forgive him.

That is, until he actually did come back.

No, surely that was just wishful thinking - that knock was probably a salesman or someone stupid like that coming to bother you. You dragged yourself up from your bed and slowly approached the door, groaning to yourself before putting on a fake smile to answer it.

And sure enough, there he was. Cold and scruffy looking, his clothes ruffled and his hair matted, bags under his eyes. He pushed you inside, and slammed the door behind himself.

He kissed you again. But this time he didn't hesitate, and he wasn't gentle - he threw himself onto you, your lips messily colliding with his as he leaned into it, diving his tongue into your mouth. His hands slid down to your hips, grabbing the waistband of your sweatpants so tight it was like he might fall off the Earth if he let go.

The kiss was sloppy and desperate, and he hungrily pushed it as far as you'd let it go, which was admittedly pretty far. But then the shock faded, and you pressed your hands to his chest, shoving him back. He was weak enough that he fell back into the door, leaning against it to prevent from fully toppling over.

"What the fuck?!"

You'd never yelled at him before. Never even thought about getting upset with him. His face turned fearful, as he steadied himself and tried to walk forwards again. You took a step back for the one he took forwards.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Who do you think you are, fucking with me like this?!"

His expression shifted. He just stared at you, blankly, either too tired or too numb to show any emotion anymore. And fuck, that only made you angrier. "You think this is funny? I was worried you could be dead, and now you just- show up, months later, looking like this? Why didn't you say something? You just- just-"

"I'll explain everything. Just... I really... missed you."

"Yeah? You didn't miss me enough to at least give me a heads up that you were alive!" You hid your face in your hands, sighing deeply trying to contain yourself. What reasonable explanation could there possibly be? You couldn't reason with him surely.

You hear him step forwards, and he places his hands on your hips again. You reach down to pull him off of you, but the moment you move your hands away from your face, he's pressing more kisses to your lips. He holds you tighter, his arms wrapping around you. "Get off me," you growl, but he doesn't listen.

He kisses your neck, his warm breath shaking profusely. "Luigi," you say, and he can't even look up at you. You yank one of his hands off, only for him to put it back on you with more force than the last time. "I said get off!"

"Let me make it up to you," he begs you, his gaze meeting yours as he walked you forwards, pushing you onto the couch. You try to stand, but he's quicker, and he straddles you, hovering over you and pushing you down by your shoulders. He stops looking you in the eyes, too embarrassed at what he was doing.

"Luigi, stop! I'm trying to talk to you, god dammit!" He doesn't listen. He can't. He's already straining his jeans, grinding his hips into yours. It's warm. He's warm, and fuck, you can't lie to yourself. You missed this feeling. You missed the feeling of something real being there with you. You missed him.

Your body betrays you, and you softly rock your hips forwards into his, swearing under your breath. He smiles softly, cupping one of your hips in his hand. "It's okay. I know you missed this." He looked at you, a weird sincerity in his eyes, considering what he was actually doing.

"I'm not messing around. This- this isn't funny. Let go of me." At some point you had stopped struggling without noticing, and you squirmed again, causing him to push more of his weight down onto you. He spoke softly to you. "Shh, it's okay... It's okay, I promise I won't take long. Promise, promise."

He muttered some words in Italian, something that sounded along the lines of a prayer as he rutted into you, yanking your hips up to get more friction. "Stop it," you say again, covering your face with one of your hands.

The truth is that you'd dreamed of this moment for so long. So very long. You'd dreamed of what it would feel like when he finally touched you, his skin on yours, giving you all he had to give. But fuck, not like this, not like this-

He finished with whatever he was reciting, and slipped his fingers under your waistband, along with the one of your panties and tugged them down. You pressed your thighs together, but he was stronger than you and pushed them apart, leaving you exposed for him.

"You're beautiful..." He stared down at you, leaving a crimson shade on your cheeks. "I'm sorry, I just... I felt like I had to tell you goodbye." Your eyes widened as he said that, and you shook your head. "What are you talking about? Luigi, I'm not going anywhere. You're not going anywhere either. You don't have to do this, please-"

By the time you finished, he was already unbuckling his belt, the sound of the buckle clinking against itself making you shiver. He unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down, rubbing himself against your folds. He was big. Bigger than you expected. Big enough that it looked like this might leave you sore.

You tried to scoot back, but he reached for you and pulled you closer than you were before, gasping at the feeling of your wetness against his cock. He'd longed for this forever, maybe even since the moment he'd first laid eyes on you. It felt like heaven to him, despite how dirty he felt - despite the fact that he knew it was wrong.

Something about you looking down on him for this only made him harder.

He lined himself up with your entrance and parted you with just his tip, his nails sinking into your hips as he did. "Fuck," he whimpered, "I'm so sorry, amore."

And with that, he slid into you slowly. You sighed in relief, only to cry out when he was so overwhelmed by pleasure that he slammed himself into you as deep as he could manage, rolling his hips into you.

Fuck. You could feel him pressing against your cervix. His breath shook as he panted heavily, shutting his eyes tightly as he pulled out nearly all the way, only to slam back into you. He swore, leaving bruises on your sides from how hard he was holding you. It hurt but you didn't care.

He kept up this brutal force, moving all the way out just so he could thrust deep into you again. It took him a while to speed up just because he was so overstimulated by it. But when he did, he fucked you like a wild animal, slamming his hips into yours, the obscene sound of his skin hitting yours filling your apartment.

You looked up at him, who still had his eyes closed out of shame. You couldn't help but imagine what he saw behind his eyelids, what he was imagining as he fucked you in earnest. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, but he fought against them. "I'm sorry," he muttered, over and over again. He couldn't stop apologizing.

"It's- it's okay, it's okay... fuck-! I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you... oh god..."

That was too much for him. Your acceptance, that unconditional love of yours, the fact that he could do this, and you would still understand, pushed him over, and tears streamed down his cheeks.

His hands frantically slid up your sides as he leaned down onto you, both your chests pressed together, getting as much of his skin on yours as possible. He ran his fingers up and down you, committing every hill and valley to memory. "I'm sorry, I promise I'll make it up to you. I promise you. I promise."

He kept mindlessly apologizing as he used you, controlled by his own need. There was no stopping him now, and you didn't want to. He was beautiful even like this, even at his lowest point. You knew that you loved him in this moment.

"I'm gonna cum, please, please... I'm sorry, I need it, please, baby-" He kept babbling through his tears, which fell onto your cheeks. You closed your eyes softly, leaning into his touch, pressing your lips to his.

He devoured you in an instant, the kiss deeper than before, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he neared his release. "Perdonami, ti prego," he begged, speaking inbetween breaths.

"Lu," you cooed. "Go ahead. It's alright."

As soon as you commanded him, his eyes shot open and he threw his head back as he rammed into your cervix, spilling himself deep inside of you, his body shaking as he did. You tightened around him, the feeling of him finally letting himself go enough to make you cum too, as you called out his name.

He stayed tensed up over you for a moment, his arms struggling to hold his weight as his eyes shut, and he collapsed on top of you, his face in your chest. He started to sob, gripping you tight, one of his hands going down to entangle with yours. "I'm so sorry, amore," he repeated, over and over, "I'm sorry"s falling from his lips.

You pressed him closer, free hand stroking his hair softly as he crumbled in your arms. "It's okay. I forgive you."

"Please don't hold it against me."

"We'll figure it out, okay, Lu? We'll figure it out, together. Me and you. Because I love you."

"I love you too.... No matter what happens, remember that I love you."

[letternotekisses]

Huhu! Sry same gal again from last req! I just realized with my last request that bw!assistant timeline with the bw cast could be maybe fun to read if you got any hc or drabbles for it :D also Im considering rn to make some doodles based on some of your post/hcs they r just too goooooood<33 i feel inspired

(18+mdni) anon i would go apeshit for doodles that is so SWEET, take my random ass thoughts on this cuz we love assistant reader here on my blog!!

Gabriel is the stern figurehead who keeps everyone in line, and is probably tied with Moira in last place in terms to warming up to the whole sharing idea. He's easily swayed once you settle in though, because you're good at your job and help keep whatever stress he has mounting at bay. (Shoulder massages and plentiful glasses of bourbon whiskey goes a long way.) He often has to step in when the boys are being a tad too rough with you, reminding Genji & Cassidy that bench pressing you as a test of strength in whatever dick measuring contest they have going on won't mean anything when he's around because he's your favourite anyway.

Behind closed doors is a little different. Gabriel allows you an insight to his tender side, not only his stress but his wants and desires. Many a night have you been spread over thick thighs, quivering legs braced either side of him as he works, a smug smile spread over his lips as you twitch around him and beg for any semblance of relief as he steadies you with a large hand on your hip. He won't relent until you're blubbering and flexing your cute little nails into his skin, barely able to make a dent in him as his fat cock nudges against the deepest parts of you. Only then will Gabriel coo mockingly at you, putting his datapad down to fuck you silly over his desk.

You're kept safe and and warm and hidden. Tucked away like one of Blackwatch's many secrets. Gabe protects what belongs to him, and as far as he's concerned? You're one of his, and he's happy to do what it takes to keep it that way. (Plus, his boys like you. And it keeps them busy enough to stop annoying him.)

Cassidy laid the charm on thick as soon as you stepped through the damn door. A pretty secretary, just for them? Oh, he was smitten from the get go. He spends most of his free time draped over your desk as you type away, shooting him an amused look every now and then when you catch him giving you goo-goo eyes. You ask him why he would bore himself like this, and he always replies in the same old way that has your heart fluttering every time. Ain't nothing boring around you, darlin. Reyes often drags him off by the scruff, his hat drooping clumsily on his head as he blows a kiss to you on the way out.

Usually the one to help keep a sense of normalcy for you within Blackwatch, often taking you out to bars and bistros he's familiar with despite Reyes' warnings. Cassidy will happily take any scolding for you, anything to see the pretty secretary smile.

And I'm afraid to say it, but he's an absolute horndog who can't get enough of the attention you give him. Even just curling your fingers under his hairy chin to pull him in for a cheeky kiss has Cassidy harder than stone, the hot mass prodding into your thigh persistently until you do something about it. And if he's not humping into your pretty pussy at the speed of light or eating you out with utmost enjoyment, then he's plopping his hat onto your head while you ride him within an inch of his life. Giddyup, Cowgirl.

Genji was almost elusive when first meeting you, but his hesitation's quickly sobered when you didn't treat him like a monster because of his synthetic appearance. He started to avoid you less and less until he began inviting you along to meditate, or vying for your attention in silly, stupid bets with Cassidy. He's a little old fashioned in his approach, too, leaving behind meaningful gifts at your desk to show that he listens and cares. And whilst he's outwardly the sweetest, you know the mischief that lies behind Genji's cool exterior.

(You take him up on his offer to train you, just a few basic moves so that you can defend yourself. And as good as you get, he'll always be better, putting your ass on the mat for the millionth time and making you pout playfully when he chalks it up to his ninja skills, a humble offering to soothe your bruised ego.)

And he definitely puts his ninja skills to good use by sneaking up on you, making you jump as he surrounds you from behind, your soft body settling perfectly against his own. He takes advantage of the positioning to part your soft thighs from behind, the skin so plush and unmarred unlike his own, Genji can't help but want to bury himself within it. It's often how you end up being fingered until you can barely speak, or being eaten out from under your desk while you try not to break your cool. And when he's not making your life hell by trying to get you caught, he's whisking you away to somewhere a little more private so he can fuck your thighs and bury his face into your neck to inhale that warm scent of yours.

Moira is on strict orders not to scare you off, but the warning only entices her closer. She's slow to approach, like you're a rabbit that might break into a sprint once you catch a hint of her wolfish scent on the wind. But you don't. You're a hardy, spirited little thing and she certainly wants a piece of you now, listening to you talk with her hands clasped behind her back and her head inclined towards you, her eyes bright and predatory and intrigued. It has you flustered and often seeking her approval, something she likes.

As odd as any other Blackwatch agent may find her, you often find yourself drawn back to Moira's presence. You talk about any and all things to her and most times her response is something so decadently intelligent that it flusters you to no end, and she's all too pleased to indulge in whatever information about yourself that you share to her.

She also enjoys using her knowledge to her advantage, helping you discover new things about your body that you may not have even known yourself, pushing you to absolute limits with experiments purely for her own enjoyment. Experiments such as the amount of times you can cum in one session with her, good thing she knows the exact right spot to reach with her fingers, hm?

[cuubism]

Can I pressure you to work on the 'having a job sucks ass' math AU fic?

yeah 😂 i started working on it when i was annoyed with my job. which is always

here's a snippet from earlier in the fic, because i think the later part i'm working on won't make a ton of sense out of context

[ make me work on one of my fics if you want ]

-

Dream shuts his laptop as Hob approaches. Oh, yeah. He was definitely waiting for Hob, specifically. Hob is getting the sense that he’s in trouble. And he’s not stupid. It’s not hard to guess what has Dream upset.

“Look,” he starts, “don’t even—”

“Hob Gadling,” Dream interrupts. Yep, that’s the trouble tone, the one Hob used to get when he did shit like giving himself a concussion playing pick up football on the quad. “It is ten p.m.”

“I own a watch too, Dream,” Hob says tiredly. Does Dream think he wants to be working this late? He’s just trying to stay employed.

Dream’s lips press into a thin line. And Hob knows him well enough, can read him well enough to recognize that what’s underneath the annoyance is concern. But what exactly does Dream expect him to do about it?

Hob sits down—more like collapses—into the armchair diagonal to where Dream is on the couch. God, what he really wants is to just fucking face plant into bed, not deal with this.

Christ. When did he start thinking about talking to Dream as dealing with?

Then again, this is less talking to Dream and more arguing with Dream, and he fucking hates doing that.

He scrubs his hands over his face. “It’s far away, alright?” he argues, though it sounds more like a whine. “It’s not like I can teleport.”

“It is not acceptable that they keep you so late,” Dream says. Then his tone softens. “I worry over your level of exhaustion. That is not even mentioning the commute.”

“Honestly, the commute’s not the worst part,” Hob says. “Gives me more time to get stuff done. Or fall asleep.”

Dream gives him a flat look. “Precisely.”

“I don’t want to hear judgment about work ethic from you of all people,” Hob snaps. God, he hates arguing with Dream, he hates it. It’s not like when they bicker. And it’s not like arguing with anyone else. The thought that Dream is upset with him is genuinely distressing.

“I think I of all people am uniquely qualified to give it,” Dream says.

He’s not wrong. Dream is a workaholic if ever there was one. It’s something Hob’s had to talk to him about in the past. Frequently, in the past, Hob was the one who was better about it.

It’s just that having this job is a level of relentless he couldn’t possibly have anticipated.

Hob can’t just quit though, even if he is overworked. It’s a good job, career-wise, and it pays really well, and he wants Dream to be able to keep his post-doc position without worrying about the salary because Dream is just quite frankly not cut out for anything where he isn’t able to work independently at least ninety percent of the time and Hob doesn’t want to see him suffer, and he wants them to be able to buy a house someday—

“Look,” he says, before Dream can suggest that he actually quit or something, “Dream, we’re making fucking bank, okay?”

Dream raises an eyebrow. “We are?”

“Yeah, we’re married, or did you forget?”

“It’s your money.”

“The joint bank account says otherwise. Half of it is yours.”

Dream frowns, then gets a wicked look in his eye. Oh no. “Does that entitle me to half of your suffering as well? Do I get half a say in whether it continues?”

“That’s not the point—”

“Are you going to watch me suffer half your exhaustion and do nothing about it?” Dream challenges, steamrolling right over him. He’s impossible to argue with when he really gets going. And great, now he’s employing that look. That pleading look that he knows Hob can’t say no to, eyes wide and helpless. “Will you leave me to my agonies?”

“Alright,” Hob says, pressing his hands to his eyes. “Enough. Stop joking around.”

“I’m quite serious. I don’t wish to see you suffer.” He crosses the room, kneels in front of Hob’s chair, and takes Hob’s hands, bringing them down from his face. “Your unintended comparison was more apt than you realize. When you prosper, I prosper. When you suffer, so equally do I.”

“Should have been a fucking poet instead of a mathematician, Dream,” Hob says. It shouldn’t come out as bitter as it does.

Except— “Maths is poetry,” he says, echoing it just as Dream says it, too. Hob had known he would.

It makes him smile, that he can predict Dream like that.

[angelltheninth]

Every Time He Leaves

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, suggestive, reunions, teasing, family planning

Word count: 0.8k

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: I heard that the sequel isn't coming in 2025 but that won't stop me from writing fics for this amazing man.

"Mi vida, I'm home." Miguel heavy footsteps echoed through the halls, a good sort of comfort now in your current state. "Baby? Are you asleep?" You could pretend to be. Like you pretended all those night before, then wake up in the morning and wonder if he would be there or not. No. Not this time.

You waited for him to open the door, his charming, soft smile thrown your way, almost shaking your resolve.

"You didn't have to wait up for me you know, I don't mind cuddling up next to my-" He stopped talking once his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the bedroom and he saw your eyes red from crying, "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" You nodded. You were about to explain when he was in front of you in a flash, his hands pressing and prodding, looking you over. The bed dipped to one side under Miguel's weight, his worried expression turning a little angry, " Where does it hurt? Who hurt you? I'll make them regret it!"

You let out a long heavy sigh. Taking one of his hands you placed it above your heart and then pointed your finger at him, finally meeting his eyes with your being full of tears, "You hurt me."

"What?" He looked like you just slapped him, which would have been preferable, he would hardly feel that. But your words, they cut deep. "What do you mean? Was I rough with you last night? You told me it was-"

"Oh for gods sake Miguel, I'm not talking about that. I'm not physically hurt." You backed up a bit, putting some space between you two. It was a little empty space, easy to close, yet it felt like you were worlds, universes apart, "I don't ever see you anymore. You go on missions, you come back, you... fuck me and then you leave. Do you really not get how that makes me feel? How... used and alone I feel?"

The sex was good. The sex was damn good. Perfect even. He was so close to you, he was smiling at you, you were one with him, holding him, feeling him everywhere, kissing him. But those moments, they passed way too quickly for your liking and then you were empty and alone again.

"Is that really how you feel?" He sounded like he couldn't wrap his head around what you were saying. At the same time you could see it on his face that he was putting the puzzle pieces together. "I love you, more then anything, you're the most important person in this or any universe to me. I... would stop. If you wanted me to. We could settle down, buy a bigger house, start a family, like we talked about."

"How? How can you say that when you leave without... without even telling me? Your job is important, I understand that, but for the love of god Miguel, I'm your girlfriend! I at least deserve to know when you're leaving don't I? What if... what if one day you... what if you don't come back to me?" You started hiccuping while you cried, your body shaking from the wave of emotions that you were finally able to unleash. There was a part of you that felt like it was selfish, that Miguel wasn't yours to keep and that doing so would mean a lot of people would get hurt. Did you deserve him in the first place?

Miguel's arms wrapped around your smaller frame, you could hear his heart beating quickly, you could feel him shaking along with you while he balanced himself on his knees, his suit flickering on and off. "I would never abandon you. Even if I have to crawl back from Hell itself I'd find a way to come back to you. I made up my mind long ago, when I die it will when we're both old and I lost all my hair."

"And we have grandkids running around?" You whisper against his chest, voice still raw from crying and nose stuffed from sniffles.

"So many grandkids. We're gonna have a big family, just like we planned. I know its hard right now but its almost over okay? Then we can settle down anywhere you want." Miguel cupped the back of your head as his lips pressed to your forehead, lingering there for the longest time, "Nothing is more important then you. Nothing."

"I want at least three kids." He nodded, "A big house in the country side." A nod, "A big, cuddly dog." Another nod, "And you in my bed every night." He kissed you, not caring the least that you tasted like tears. But he didn't stop there. His hands lifted you up by the hips, your legs wrapping around his body as you felt yourself being lowered on the bed.

You felt his suit vanish and warm muscles take its place, "Three kids. That's a lot of work. We should practice as much as we can." Miguel smirked like an idiot while he undressed you, ready to prove his love to you.

[wabatle]

Would you be able to do a Lucifer from Obey Me request for some comfort for an MC who’s had a tough day? Just too many things happened all at once with no breaks in between the madness and they’re completely wiped out emotionally and emotionally charged from all the stupid things happening around their day? I’d love some comfort character for a rainy day which I feel like will be happening sooner rather than later.

𓆩⚝𓆪 — After a long day

𓆩⚝𓆪 — Warnings: touching but very fluffy, reader feels sick and just genuinely had a terrible day

𓆩⚝𓆪 — Contains: fluff, comfort ~0.8k wc

𓆩⚝𓆪 — A/N: I had a great time writing this ty for the request!! sorry it took so long omg this req was from october 😭

It’s been such a long day. You’re tired, utterly exhausted. You’re not even aware of how to explain why you feel like this, other than you, “just woke up on the wrong side of bed.” So many things have happened today. You had five tests today, still had to keep up promises you had made the day before, had constantly been smothered and overwhelmed by whichever brothers were around you at the time, and not only that, you’ve also felt sick the entire day since you’ve barely had enough time to eat or drink. You feel awful.

You finally arrived back at the HoL, but you didn't really feel like doing anything, let alone the stacks and stacks of homework you were sent home with.

You went straight to your room, throwing your things on the table and crashing down onto your bed. You rubbed your face with your hands.

You spent the next few minutes mindlessly doomscrolling on your D.D.D, until you were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“___? Are you in there?” It was Lucifer.

“Mhm,” you quietly breathed out.

“I’m coming in.” He replied, pushing the door open.

Without a word, he laid down beside you, your bed creaking as he did so. “What’s going on?” He asked you, gently grazing your cheek with his fingers.

“I don’t really want to talk about it.” You whispered, averting his gaze.

“That’s alright, just… let me know if you want to talk, okay?”

“Mhm.”

“Is there anything I can do to try to distract you?” He asked.

“Um… Not really.”

“Do you want me to stay or go?”

“Stay. Please.”

“Of course.” He opened his arms, allowing you to relax comfortably in them. He gently stroked your head.

A few minutes passed, with nothing but tranquil silence until you spoke.

“It’s just… been a really long day.”

He waited until you were ready to speak again.

“Y’know, the five tests started it. And then your brothers were overwhelming me.”

He sighed heavily.

“And since I had to study during lunch, I didn't get to eat or drink. I feel really sick. And I'm on dinner duty tonight.”

“Mm.” He breathed, kissing your head. “I'll gladly help you with your homework,” he paused, kissing you once more, “and I'll make one of my brothers take over dinner duty for you. Since it's for you, I'm sure there won't be any complaints.”

You sighed. “Thank you.”

“If you want me to, I can speak with my brothers about their constant affection.”

“No, it's not necessary, it just… was a bad time, I guess.”

“That's understandable. That's happened to everyone once or twice before. Everything seems to fall on the wrong day.”

“Yeah, exactly.” You sighed once more, rubbing your face with your hands. “I'm tired, Luci.”

“I know,” he caressed your face. “I know. But you need to eat something, and make sure to drink some water.”

“Mhm.” You nodded.

He sighed, gently pulling you in for a chaste kiss. His hands remained on your cheeks. “___, please don't be afraid to ask for help.”

“I… I know. And I should've. I'm sorry.” You averted eye contact.

“Why are you apologizing to me? You should be apologizing to yourself.”

“Sorry, me,” you said sarcastically.

“Be serious.” He kissed you once more. “Make sure you go to bed early tonight. Just this once, take something from Belphegor. Though don't be like him every day.”

“I know.” You kissed his jaw, right under his ear. “Maybe you're right.”

“You know I am.”

You paused. “Um, Luci?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Could you, um… stay with me tonight?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t ever leave you alone, should you need me.”

“Thank you.”

“No need.” He smiled.

You smiled back, though it was soft and tired.

He sat up. “Shall we get something for you to drink?”

“I can still make dinner if you want.” You said, changing the subject.

“No, if you feel unwell, you should rest.”

“I know, but… I just feel obligated to.”

“Hm. Well, at least let me help you.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

After dinner, Lucifer helped you do your homework, and also tried (keyword tried) to talk with his brothers about their smothering. He offered you medicine to help your sick feeling, and did everything he could to make you feel as comfortable as possible before joining you in bed.

“How are you feeling?” He asked you, laying on his side to face you.

“Better.” You replied.

“Good. I’m glad. Is there anything, anything else I can do for you tonight?”

“Uh, no. I think I’m okay. Thank you, Lucifer.” “You’re welcome. I can’t deny I like to see you depending on me for something.”

You smiled gingerly. “That’s cute.”

“Uh-huh.” He replied sarcastically.

“Just know, you can always rely on me. I promise if anything ever goes wrong, I’ll do whatever I can to make it better. I love you, ___.”

“I love you more.”

“I love you most.”

𓆩⚝𓆪 — thank you for reading!

𓆩⚝𓆪 — taglist (ask 2 be added): none

𓆩⚝𓆪 — obey me masterlist

[ghostieblr]

Definitely Not Adorable Behavior

based on a reel i saw on instagram lol. changed the narrative a bit to fit the characters.

Stiles' eyes track Merlin's, towards the corner of the massive ballroom, where two men are standing with their hands crossed against their chest. Their side-profile are almost identical: crisp, tailored black suits, accentuating their biceps, broad shoulders, and tantalizingly shaped body figures. Even their heights seem to be the same; the only notable difference from this angle is the color of their hair: a dark, deep, raven onyx versus a golden halo.

"They're arguing about something."

"Yes," Merlin sips his drink, the one he's claimed several times into the evening to be a disgusting piece of beverage, and winces. "I don't know why I keep drinking it."

"That's because Arthur brought it for you," Stiles tells him with a knowing smile. "And you won't deny him the pleasure of serving you, no matter how awful the taste might be."

Merlin looks at the gaudy, unneeded, and entirely unnecessary piece of diamond ring that Derek gifted him for this evening. It's almost the same size as his engagement ring, and it sits prettily enough on his left hand's pointer finger. Merlin catches his eye with a gentle smile on his own face.

"Arthur and I share something special," he begins, voice lilting into the foreign accent Stiles hasn't been able to place yet. It sounds like Welsh, but different than the one he knows. Older. "For a long time I thought my devotion to him wouldn't be reciprocated, and it was fine. I was fine with it. But as always, the clotpole had other ideas." Clotpole. What the hell does that even mean? Merlin's chuckle brings him back to what he is saying, "—told him, and so, now Arthur thinks he must make it up to me."

"Or he just loves you very, very much, but has awful taste."

"That, too."

They'd turned towards each other for the conversation, the din of the hall loud enough to keep it private from prying ears, but now they turn. Someone just gasped, and they're both most definitely into drama from the sidelines.

"Oh my god."

"Are they— ARTHUR!"

"DEREK SEBASTIAN HALE!"

Both men freeze. The old lady who gasped turns to look at them, as does the rest of the room, but Stiles isn't paying them any heed, and neither is Merlin. No. Their focus is entirely on their idiots.

Arthur's left hand is fisted at Derek's tie, and his right hand is frozen near his waist, crooked fingers looking for purchase. Weirdly, Stiles likens this action with looking for a sword in its scabbard, tightened securely near hips.

On the flip side, Derek's got his right hand centimeters from Arthur's nose, while his left one must be aiming to intercept Arthur's sword-hand or whatever.

And their faces. Oh Jesus Christ, their faces.

Red with anger. Mouths open in a feral cry of war. And eyes? Stuck on Stiles and Merlin, fear melting their rage.

Both him and Merlin stride towards them, Merlin's glass of questionably purple drink handed to one of the catering staff, and it's as if their movement reminds Arthur and Derek that they're caught. They jump apart, though they do share a look of commiserating grief over being caught.

Bastards. United against spousal anger.

Merlin and him don't say anything in this hall with interested ears and human eyes and multitudes of equipment ready to immortalize this scene; they simply take their respective husband's hands in their own and drag them out towards the parking lot, which happens to be mostly empty. Still, they go in deeper towards a secluded corner.

Once there, Stiles stares their Derek down, hands back at his sides. Merlin does the same.

"So? Care to elaborate what the fuck that was about?" His question is met nervous breathing and another commiserating look. "Oh, so now you're both buddy-buddy, but inside the hall you two were — what, enemies?" He snorts. He can't help it; Derek and him have faced literal monsters, and yet Derek was about to fight a posh, young man for... some reason?

Before either of them can speak, Merlin narrows his eyes. "Wait. Was this a ruse?"

"A ruse? What do you mean, Merlin?"

"Your royal pratness, by that I mean a very elaborate scheme to leave that dull place with questionable drinks and—"

Arthur's face goes from confused to dull. "Did you not like the Favor?"

"Favor?" Merlin question's, and Stiles shoots Derek a look to shush. Why the hell is he finding this so funny?

"That's what the drink was called. And it was purple. It wasn't nice? So I..." Arthur's gaze turns wide. "And you still drank it all! I even brought you a second glass of it, why didn't you tell me you didn't like it?"

Merlin rubs the back of his neck, a sheepish gesture. When no answers seem forthcoming from him, Stiles steps in.

"It was thoughtful, I guess, since I'm gonna assume purple and that name means something to you both?" They nod in assent. "Right. See, thoughtful gifts are nice... but not always. Like, maybe you like it, but Merlin wouldn't. And it's not a bad thing at all, you just need to communicate."

Merlin rolls his eyes. "Says the man who hates the diamond ring gifted to him."

Stiles hisses, "Hey!" at the same time Derek asks, voice small, "Stiles?"

He turns towards his husband, moves closer. "Hey, it's nice. It's a very good gift."

Arthur says, weirdly with glee, "Which you don't like!"

"I love the thought behind it though!"

"But you don't like it," Derek repeats, eyes on Stiles', daring him to lie again.

Stiles cups his face, rubs his thumb against his stubble. "No," he admits. "I don't."

"I think we have gone a bit off-track here," Merlin says, after a while. Stiles turns to see the other couple in a similar position: in an almost-embrace, an intimate moment shared. "Why were you two at each other's throats?"

A third look is shared between Derek and Arthur. Then, Derek says, "It was about what that lady asked us."

"Yeah."

Merlin and Stiles wait for further elaboration, one which doesn't come. Now they share a look, and take a step to move away from their respective embraces. That, apparently, does the trick, and Arthur continues from his monosyllable answer, neither of the men letting Merlin or Stiles leave their personal space in the process.

"She asked us, 'What's the most expensive thing you've ever eaten?' and we told her. We disagreed at each other's answer, though."

"This was done over a trivial question? Derek. What the hell."

"I wonder how bigger your head can grow, Arthur. Really?"

Derek leans in close to him and tells him, in almost his Alpha voice, "My answer was you."

Stiles blinks. Huh? "Huh?" And then, "Oh my god—"

"And I said you," Arthur adds. "Of course, my Merlin is more expensive than your husband."

"I said this, and I'll say this again: Stiles is literally wearing the most expensive set of clothes right now on this side of the coast, he's wearing two diaomond rings, and that's just today's outfit."

Both Derek and Arthur push him and Merlin behind them, and move closer to each other, gearing up for a fight. Again.

"Unappreciated gifts don't count, and my husband is wearing a neckerchief made of the most pure gold, and that's just one of them!"

Stiles and Merlin look at each other.

"I had no idea this suit was that fucking expensive," he tells the man, who is eyeing up his own neckerchief in betrayal.

"You said this was just the color gold!"

"Merlin, we're leaving. Let's go."

"Yes. They can duke it out between themselves, while we enjoy this evening with people who tell us the truth."

They turn around, and start walking back towards the ballroom. Behind them, the fight never occurs. Instead, pounding footsteps follow them, and really, this evening did not go how Stiles had envisioned it to be.

(Lydia tells them a week later that "Derek Hale and Arthur Emrys begging their partners for forgiveness in the charity gala" is still a solid opening hit for a conversation, and Merlin rolls his eyes before his eyes glow gold and his favorite chips appear in his hand.

Because apparently, they're the Merlin and Arthur: Magic itself, and the Once and Future King.

Stiles' own eyes glow a deep purple, and both him and Lydia now have their favorite drinks in their hands.

Meanwhile, Derek's authority and Arthur's ego clash over something else equally trivial in the kitchen. Hopefully their bickering won't get in the way of dinner.

If it does... oh well. A Spark and The Sorcerer can cook something, can't they?

And no, both him and Merlin have decided that in no way, shape, or form, are they telling their husbands that the fact that their arguments occur mostly over being the 'better husband' is adorable. Nope, never, ever.)

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Hey I was just wondering how writer!reader and Logan are doing? You don't have to write anything I just really love that story!

Logan let himself into your apartment and felt himself relax fractionally. You were home. He could hear the food dehydrator droning and the dog gnawing on something. The clacking of keys on your keyboard.

You'd had to go on a work trip and took the dog with you- a perk of being able to drive it. And Logan would be lying if he said he didn't feel a little better knowing Trigger was with you. Sure, he was kind of a dick sometimes but he loved you, that was for damn sure. And he'd make sure no one fucked with you.

It was better still having you here though. Where he could keep an eye on you himself. "Hey, Princess," he hummed hanging his jacket up, "how was the drive?"

"Fine," you yawn, "only almost hit a deer. And saw some one steer with their feet."

"You hit a deer?" he growled

"Almost," you shrug, "Stopped a foot from-"

Logan scowled at you and leaned over the sofa, "I'm going with you next time."

"Logan I'm fine, the hospital said-"

"I don't give a fuck," he rumbled, tilting your chin up. "My girl, my baby, remember?"

You bite your lip and shut your laptop, "You don't have to, I mean I don't have anything that's not local for-"

"I didn't have to bring you a steak and some grilled veggies either," he said smirking, "But you sounded like you really fucking wanted it."

"God I really do. That hotel was just- ugh- never again."

Logan tutted and kissed the top of your head. "C'mon and eat, mama. I'll take care of you since your management fuckin' won't."

[zroronoas]

blue moon

"you care more about being good than being good to me."

a/n: i beg u to listen to blue moon by niki while reading this, i replayed the song my entire hour drive home and knew i had to write something inspired by it omg

-

the silence that fills the air is antagonizing and unbearable. the way the moonlight hits his face almost makes you rethink your entire decision. almost.

you weren't sure when you started feeling this way. like being with him felt like you were drowning with no way back up. you loved zoro, there was never any doubt about it. but you couldn't help but think that the two of you had met a little too soon.

maybe if you had met later in life, a life where your captain was king of pirates and he was the greatest swordsman.

when you joined luffy's crew, finding love on the ship was never a priority. it wasn't even a thought that crossed your mind until the day you looked at zoro and felt like your heart was going to burst all over the floorboards of the ship.

so why was there a feeling of resentment whenever you looked at him?

you knew you were being unreasonable and selfish. you would never ask him to give up his dream and you would never ask him to prioritize you over helping luffy become the king. zoro was good, he would do anything for the crew, anything for luffy. it's why he trained so consistently day and night. but there were times when his goodness was antagonizing. skipping the rare occasions you two could go on dates in favor of training, being so tired that it was even hard to have conversations with him

and you knew he felt the same way. you were both exhausted. the constant arguing, the feeling of loneliness even when the two of you were together.

a quiet sigh could be heard coming from zoro's mouth before he finally looks up at you. you almost flinch at the look on his face, you had never seen him give that look to you.

"are you sure this is what you want?"

you desperately wished that you weren't sure.

"i don't think either of us are happy anymore," you say quietly. a slight wind blows through the deck of the sunny, making you wrap your arms around yourself.

zoro wants to bring you closer to him, but he knows he shouldn't. it would make things even harder for him. he wants to say no, that it would be stupid to break up. but he would never deny you something that you wanted, even if he knew it would kill him.

you knew that losing zoro meant losing the one. you couldn't imagine a future without him, you had already planned everything around being with him. you knew he was really always going to be the one.

"okay." there's a slight crack in his voice, once you had never heard before.

you quickly look away from him and instead focus on the crashing waves in front of you. you bite your lip to keep yourself from sobbing.

"it'll always be you, you know," he whispers. he isn't looking at you anymore. "even if you are doing this, it's not going to change that."

"don't do that," you sniffle. "i won't be able to do it."

and maybe that's what he wants. he wants you to take it back. to tell him that he could never get away from you even if he wanted to, that he was going to be stuck with you forever, just like you always did.

but you don't. and zoro has to accept that he has lost you. he has to bear the fact that he won't be waking up to you anymore, there won't be anyone keeping him company while he trains, no one to yell at him when he starts drinking a bit too much, no one to love him like you did.

[sports-on-sundays]

Oh...! Maybe you can make a part 2 of the fic Mama's Boy when they're on date or make a new one with the same trope because this is so cute and I can't stop reading it! 😆

mama's boy / Héctor Fort / Part 2

Summary: Héctor x best friend!reader - Héctor takes you on both of your first dates, his clear, awkward, huge crush on you funnily apparent. Link to Part 1!

Requested?: Yes! Thank you!

"...Héctor...?!" Lamine suddenly says louder, gently slapping Héctor's shoulder, snapping Héctor out of his deep thoughts. "Did you just hear any of what I just said?" the seventeen-year-old asks in slight exasperation.

"Uh... yeah, of course," Héctor replies, looking at the younger guy like a deer in headlights.

"Then what was it?"

Héctor sighs. "Alright. Maybe I didn't hear you. Sorry. What was it?"

Lamine shakes his head. "It doesn't really matter. Not really, in any case. But what's your problem lately, man?"

"What do you mean?" Héctor asks a bit too defensively and quickly.

"I don't know. It just seems like you're always zoned out and stuff. Is there anything going on?"

Héctor sighs, shaking his head, standing up to go. "No, no, it's nothing. Just got a lot on my mind. Anyway, I've got to go now. Bye, Lamine!" and he leaves before the boy can press him any more on the subject.

Because the truth is, he does have something on his mind. Something really big. And he hasn't been able to get it off his mind literally all week.

But it'd be awkward to tell Lamine the thing that's making him literally check out of conversations is all centered around a girl. And if Héctor knows Lamine enough, he also knows Lamine would never let him live that down.

Well, tonight is his date with you. Ever since he asked you out about five days ago now, at your house, in your room, all he can focus on are the nerves of that. You, the girl he's known for years, the girl that's always been so close yet so untouchable. He is taking you out on a date.

And you actually like him back.

Just the thought of that makes his chest tighten. How on earth is he going to survive a date with you, no matter how excited he is for it?

"You've been awfully quiet this car ride," Héctor's mama says in the car seat next to him.

Héctor sighs, shrugging. "Yeah, I guess so..."

"Aren't you excited for your date?" his mama says kind of teasingly, giving him a little nudge.

"Of course! I guess I'm just..." he trails off.

"You're just a bit nervous, but that's something you'd never admit to anyone out loud, huh?"

Héctor just smiles awkwardly, shrugging, and lets his silence be the answer to that question. After a few seconds, he sighs, unbuckling his seat belt, and saying, "I just hope I don't screw it all up."

"Hey, trust me, Héc. Look here for a second," his mama says.

He looks up, meeting his eyes. "Yeah. What?"

"You won't screw it up. I'm sure it'll go great. You've known that girl since you were both born. And I have, too, by the way. And if there's one thing I can tell, it's this: she likes you just as much as you like her. She's just less of an awkward idiot about it!" His mama laughs, giving him a little pat on the shoulder.

"Hey!" Héctor snaps back, unable to keep the smile from breaking out on his face at the tease from his mama.

She gives him a little pat, saying, "There's my boy's real smile. Now, go on, and have fun, Héc!"

He smiles and nods, getting out of the car, feeling a lot better than before.

Héctor replayed this scene in his head over and over, all week, perfecting it every time, until he was sure what he would do and say, in order to be perfectly smooth and charming, without being too corny, either.

The scene where you would walk up to him, and he'd take you inside the restaurant, and you'd sit down, and it would all go just the way he wants it to.

But all the sudden, as he sees you walking towards him, he feels his heart begin to pound in his chest, and the moment you reach him and say happily, "Hey, Héctor!" all other thoughts and plans of what he would say next fly right out of his head.

His mind goes blank, and instead of the smooth comment he thought he'd make right here, he just smiles stupidly and says, "Hi. I'm glad you came!"

You smile softly. "Well, I am, too. Let's go inside."

So the two of you walk in, and Héctor internally beats himself up at how much he's 'already messed up.' At least according to himself, that is.

So in an effort to fix his mistakes, as the two of you are escorted to your table, he suddenly gently slips his hand into yours and looks at you with a sweet little smile.

You smile back, blushing a bit, and squeeze his hand gently.

That's when he blurts, "You look really good today. I mean, like... I mean, you look beautiful... Uhm..." he clears his throat. "You look good every day, obviously, I mean. I just mean to say... you look especially pretty today."

You smile, feeling how awkward he's being. But regardless, you think it's cute. He's cute. And he's being sweet. So you say simply, "Thank you. You don't look so bad yourself." You can tell he's tried to look his best for this. His clothes are perfectly ironed, his shoes clean, every hair on his head perfectly in place. You can't help but smile softly when you think about the effort he must've put into all that as you both sit down across from each other.

You both begin looking over the menu, and as you do this, you say with a little smile, after you catch him giving you little glances for the fourth time, "You really like me, don't you?"

He smiles a bit and says, "There's a lot to like about you." Finally! Something that was at least half-smooth! his brain screamed, like as if he'd just scored the winning goal. Which is actually quite funny, considering the situation itself.

You smile and say, putting a hand to your chest, "Why, thank you!"

And he grins back at you, his eyes softening in some sort of deep affection that further tells you just how down bad he is for you.

"So, what are you going to get?" Héctor asks, beginning the small talk of the night, which, honestly, you're thankful for.

As the date goes on, though, you both settle into being more and more comfortable with each other, until it seems at the end you've both forgotten this was supposed to be any different than any other time you've just hung out and had fun with each other.

Until the time for you both to get going is nearing, and suddenly Héctor, apparently getting a newfound spark of confidence, reaches across the table to take your hand in his own. You look up, watching him inhale slowly, before meeting your eyes with his own and saying in a gentler, more serious tone than the teasing one that had lingered most of the evening between the two of you: "So... have you liked it?"

You smile as each of your hands seem to naturally entwine in each other's. "Liked what?"

"Tonight. Our date."

You beam. "Oh, Héctor, I've just loved it."

"Really?" he asks, his eyes sparkling.

"Don't you know that any time I get to spend with you is amazing? Come on now, Héctor," you gently tease.

He beams back at you, squeezing your hand.

That's when you finally feel comfortable enough to ask the unabating question that's been on your mind all week: "Héctor... how long have you liked me...? You know, in this way."

He seems hesitant. Maybe slightly taken off guard. But he doesn't let go of your hand, and after some silence, finally responds with, "The truth is, it's been longer than I've even known."

You can't help but laugh a bit at that, maybe a little nervously, saying, "What does that mean?"

Héctor smiles softly. "It means that I'm starting to think I've felt like this towards you for years. Like, at least five."

Your eyes widen at that as your heart rate begins to quicken. "Oh... my goodness, Héctor, that's so sweet...!" It really is. Hearing those words from him is so... touching.

He smiles awkwardly, glancing away from your gaze, before asking, "How long have you liked me? I mean, you do like me, right?"

"Héctor! Of course I like you! I like you a lot!" you exclaim, liking the way he happily looks back up at that. "I mean, I guess it hasn't been as long as you, but I've probably liked you for, like, at least eighteen months now."

He seems to be satisfied with hearing that, and says, "It kind of seems perfect, doesn't it?"

"What does?" you ask, your expression softening further.

"The way we've known each other... forever. Our families love each other, we have the same interests, we know all the little things about each other. It's almost as if..."

"...we're meant to be?" you finish after he trails off.

His eyebrows happily shoot up. "How'd you know that's just what I was going to say?"

You chuckle. "I guess we're just on the same wavelength, too, on top of it all, huh?"

He squeezes your hand, before daring to bring your hand up to his lips and gently kiss it, saying, "I guess we are, my princess."

You stare in awe at him, suddenly feeling like he's just shot you in the heart with an arrow of love, regardless of how cheesy that all seems. You can't help but giggle and tease, "Oh my God, Héctor. I didn't know you had that in you!"

He beams, admittedly seeming quite pleased with himself.

Soon, then, he pays for the meal, and the two of you stand up to head out. As you walk, Héctor links arms with yours, and once you're outside, he turns to grab your shoulders gently, face you, and look into your eyes. All you can see in them is simple, beautiful, complete joy. It's then that he whispers, "I hope you know... how much this means to me. All of this."

You stare at him. He so... close. It's not like you haven't been this close to him before- you have, many times.

But this time? This time, it just feels... well, different.

This time is different.

His thumb gently rubs your shoulder. The tenderness in his dark brown eyes...

You swallow.

"You're so beautiful... I'm so glad I get the privilege to be so close to you. I'm so glad you're my best friend."

"And I'm so glad you're my boyfriend," you suddenly blurt with a silly little smile, your heart pounding at the words you just let slip from your lips.

His eyes immediately widen. "You... You really want to...?"

You lean in close, gazing up at him, "I'd love to, and I know you would, too."

He grins, before it slowly dies down to a simple, soft, dreamy smile. "I sure would..." he barely murmurs, moving his hand up to gently cup your cheek.

You chuckle breathy as he lean in, tenderly planting a kiss on your cheek, before moving close to whisper in your ear, his cheek almost touching yours, his gentle, warm breath on your ear, "Well, I guess I've got to go now... But I'm excited for next time, huh?"

You grin, whispering back, "Oh, Héctor, I hope you know I can't wait."

He grins back and whispers, "Good. Me neither. Now, bye bye, Y/n!" He leans away again, pecking you on your cheek, closer to your mouth this time, and waves as he starts heading off.

You beam. "Bye bye, Héc!"

And this time, he doesn't seem to mind you calling him that. In fact, he might actually like it. Just a bit.

[manda-kat]

Sometimes you really just have to let people be mad at you.

I've known several people with anxiety, RSD and other personal hurdles that lead them to be super aware of tone changes and anything that may hint at a person being angry or upset at them. A lot of those relationships didn't end very well, but hey- my heartbreak can be your learning opportunity! (This is especially important if you know you have a tendency to overthink relationships)

It's okay to just let the other person be mad at you!

Here's a story that's happened to me a few times. Someone meets me, becomes my friend and everything is great until one day I suddenly change. I give them a weird tone or I don't respond like I usually do. I must be angry at them. They ask if I'm angry at them. I say no. They aren't convinced. Every time they ask me, I tell them I'm fine. They don't know how to make me tell them what's bothering me. I become more distant every time they ask. Finally it comes to a head and they're convinced I hate them and they've ruined the entire relationship by being a terrible person.

Meanwhile, on my side of things, we're both enjoying life until one day out of the blue they ask if I'm angry at them. I have no reason to be angry at them. I say no. They continue to ask over and over again, each time getting reassurance that I'm not angry. It comes to a point where I'm pretty sure I must be doing something to upset them, but I have no idea what. We both become convinced the other person hates us.

If you ever feel stuck in this kind of situation, please try to just let it go. When you ask 'are you mad at me' and they say 'no'- take it as a no! You might not be as good at reading emotions as you think you are. Me personally? I have trouble expressing my emotions- especially over text. But for some reason, telling them that didn't help. They were convinced that they knew how I felt and that I was lying about not being angry.

So if you ask someone 'are you mad at me?' And they lie and tell you 'no'... that's a them problem. Either they don't want to push the issue OR they actually aren't upset at all. Either way, they won't want you to keep asking. If they're mad, let them be mad. They'll get over it easier if you don't keep bringing it up.

They're a big, mature person who can make their own emotional choices and can pick their own battles. If they AREN'T mature enough to deal with their emotions in a healthy way, then forcing them to keep addressing those issues is only going to upset both of you!

You don't need to face their feelings for them. They don't need to admit their frustration with you. If they're hiding their own feelings, then it's usually out of kindness. You don't need to know every single time someone is mad at you. That sounds like torture. Your friends don't want to torture you.

If you keep asking and pushing, then when you do finally upset them, they won't feel safe telling you because you've convinced them you're emotionally needy and can't handle negative feedback. Even if you're just trying to be mature, you can end up convincing them of the opposits.

Your relationships are going to develop their own spoken and unspoken rules over time, but a good rule of thumb is: ask once. If you REALLY think they're being dishonest with you, ask again, making it clear that you just want to make sure you haven't done anything wrong. If they insist they're fine, then they're fine. Move on.

It might be hard to just take someone's word for it and it feels like open communication may be the only way to keep a healthy relationship, but sometimes you need to have a little faith in your friend. Sometimes you need to be able to let sleeping dogs lie. If it's important enough for them to tell you, trust them to tell you.

Don't overcommunicate your friendships to death.

[eenslaved]

Ray and Joshua's Girl

BDSM erotica. Fictional characters over 18. Strictly fictional fantasy.

When she hears footsteps on the stairs, she tenses, uncertain of who is approaching. The son, back for more, or the father this time?

They both take turns using her, in this unassuming house set far back at the end of a long driveway, distanced from any neighbors.

The lights are flipped on and she sees Joshua's face beaming at her.

"Well, hello there," Joshua coos at her. "Looks like Da's already been at you today."

She blushes. Her feet are tied above her head, her thighs splayed wide apart. Her pussy and ass are tilted up at him, and Joshua can see for himself the sticky leavings of his dad's cum coating her sex.

Joshua comes to stand over her. His eyes are greedy and avid as they roam her naked, bound body. She sucks in a breath as his hands mold over her breasts, freely feeling her up because she can't stop him.

She has to try again. "Please let me go, Joshua. It's...you've had your fun, OK? I-I won't tell anyone, I swear."

Joshua shakes his head at her. "You are home," he insists. "This is your home now. Da and I talked it over; we're keeping you. You're our girl now. You belong to us and we'll take such good care of you."

Her heart sank. "No, please. You-you can't do this. This is so...you could get in so much trouble when someone finds out..."

"No one's going to find out," Joshua soothed. "You're safe here. You need us. That motel wasn't a safe place and you won't last the winter living on the streets. Here, you've got a bed, food, water, a roof over your head. All we want is your obedience." 

Her eyes well with tears as he hurts her nipples, pinching them cruelly. 

Joshua unties her wrists first, putting the manacles on her, and then releases her legs. He leads her into the bathroom where her arms are pulled up over her head.

He takes his time washing her body, soaping up every part of her, slapping at her thighs to get her to widen her stance. He strokes her until she's slippery and gasping, legs trembling, and then hoses her off. The jet of water aimed at her clit makes her dance in a performance he clearly enjoys.

After she's clean and dry, Joshua dresses her in a pink babydoll nightgown. She's so grateful to be clean and released from her uncomfortable bondage that when he pushes his sweats down and he slaps her face lightly with his cock, she just kneels there with her mouth open.

Joshua's father, Ray, arrives just as she's swallowing thick jets of cum.

"Good, you washed her," Ray says, pleased. He takes a seat in the broken-in leather armchair and watches as she cleans Joshua's cock with her tongue. "Come here, girl. Sit on your Daddy's lap now."

Her face burns and her insides churn with humiliation as she does as he asks, perching gingerly on his hard thigh. Ray settles her more firmly into the position he prefers, which is where her feet don't touch the ground and she has to cling to him for balance. 

Ray's hands immediately disappear under the short hem of the babydoll gown, blunt fingers seeking out her wet heat. He isn't disappointed by what he finds there. She squirms as his fingers tease more wetness out of her.

"Put your arms around me," Ray encourages. 

He turns his face into her cleavage, nuzzling her boobs. She gulps and tries not to come. All she can do is obey. She doesn't dare do different. Ray doesn't hesitate to punish her for any signs of disobedience or the merest hint of rebellion. He is consistent about his methods of discipline: first corporal punishment, then a stint of solitary in the hated deprivation hood.

His methods are effective.

As much as she's been able to pick up, Ray is divorced and has been for years. Joshua isn't in contact with his mom at all. It's just the two of them living here, operating the family-owned garage. The two men are self-sufficient. They haven't expected her to cook or clean or anything like that. That's not what they need her for.

"I'm plannin' on having anal sex with her later," Joshua says. 

"Rub some icy hot on her clit before you do that," Ray says, enjoying the shudder that runs through her frame. "Makes it even better."

"Is that why she was carrying on so much last night?"

"Yep. It's good to let her work her lungs out. And now she knows there ain't anyone around to hear her and come banging on our door. Isn't that right, sweetie?"

"Yes, Daddy," she whispers. Her tears are hot. Her pussy is pulsing and clenching on his fingers, an appalling response. This is so awful and there's no escape that she can see.

[ancha-aus]

:D :D :D

It is amazing.

It also shows the Dream really isn't the perfect warrior of light everyone expected him to be. He isn't the pure goodness and picture of forgiveness that people see him as.

He is just a guy who has been lying to himself and had the world lie to him. And this is the moment. This is the moment. He found the person who TOOK his brother from him. and he is going to make him pay and hurt for it.

And it is so important for Nightmare to see this. This is Dream. Dream changed over time. and Nightmare for a moment. Can only see Nim in Dream. (and maybe. just maybe. after Nightmare returned to being13. He realised... He ahd been terrified of his mother) But Nightmare can see that Dream isn't going to stop. He is going to murder his brother!

And Nightmare rushes over. Even after hearing these strange delutions about mindcontrol and tricking and manipulation.

He stands between the attacked and his brother. His mask gets hit and destroyed. But he stays right there as he tries to reason with Dream. Begs him to back off and not continue hurting Killer.

And dream? Dream just stares at Ngihtmare. Feels that it is him. and Drema just doens't care about Killer anymore. He knows that Killer will die thanks to those wounds. So he picks Nightmare up, and starts to leave.

ANd Ngihtmare struggles. Mostly because NO! He eneds to help Killer!! Killer needs help! But Dream just keeps walking. Taking Ngihtmare away. Ignoring what Nightmare is saying and what he wants for what Dream wants. (kinda like so long ago)

Killer being forced to just having to watch as Dream walks away with him. Nightmare begging him to let him go. Struggling to get to Killer. reaching for him. Killer trying so badly to move, speak ANYTHING to get his little brother back. To be able to protect his ltitle brother like he promised. But he is left there, unable to do the thing he swore he would do. THe thing he tried so badly to do. He failed Nightmare... (chara was right in the end. Killer can't do anything right with their help.)

I Think it fits that Error would be wiht the staff! Everyone knows Error isn't well known to people outside of the castle. So in case of attack people wouldn't expect him. Ccino just worries about that so he makes sure to grab Error in case of emergancies and keeps him wiht him. He needs to make sure Error doens't feel forced to have to fight. He is a kid! He shouldn't have to make that choice! (Error wants to watch over Ccino as doesn't have ways to fight. And so he stays close to protect him. Becuase that is something that nightmare would want!)

Ccino sees Killer and his crisis management skill activates. While Error is frozen and staring Ccino jumps to action and gets to Killer within seconds to start stop the bleeding. Meanwhile Error jsut stares because... that... that is so much blood... so muhc mana.... so much actual life force just... leaving him...

And Error knowing he can't heal that. Knowing that Geno couldn't even heal that. Maybe knowing that the healers won't even be able to heal that... But Ccino is keeping the wounds closed and Error does't want to acknowledge what he knows. That is Killer... Killer is the funny cat guy. He makes jokes and sneaks him chocolates. Killer will lay on the ground to let the cats stand on him... Killer cna't be... he can't be...

Then Ccino starts to pray of all things?! Error is shocked. because Ccino like Error himself is an atheist. Ccino was by Ngihtmare's side and even THAN ccino didn't treat Nightmare as a god. Why would he-

and he feels it. Something.... something eldritch. Soemthing otherwordly. It... sort of reminds im of the magic that fresh just showed up with one day but this one is different. Whatever magic fresh has feels weird but instable and new... this? this one feels... feels stable...fundamental in a way. the energy itself is weak like it is tired. but it is there... and it ANSWERS! It helps keep Killer whole because Ccino asked. The whole thing where people were calling ccino a miracle worker and how Rogers had so much respect for Ccino suddenly makes even more sense to Error. He kinda understood before becuas ehe saw how much Ccino does for eveyrone but this? this is beyond that.

Error remains quiet about it but can now kinda feel this presence. Now that he KNOWS it is there he can feel it. Tiny things that would shift or seem different now have an explanation. The way that after such a long long day there would be a bath waiting and ready for him. The fact that Ccino could be anywhere and everywhere in a speed which shouldn't be possible. The way that if the knights fell asleep in the living room the fire would keep burning and they owuld have blankets. Something else is watching over them... if only a little. or working wiht ccino to make him able to look after them even more.

ANd Error asks reaper. Reaper so confused because he never heard of it but he will ask life. and life writes error a letter about it. about there being these old legends and older magics that were rumoured to exist. how one was suposed to be in orchard but life never managed to find it. and error has an explanation. but aside from that he remaisn quiet. silently watching because he is curious how much stronger it will become. Becuase Error can FEEL the almost magical marker on Ccino. it isn't Ccino's magic and ccino clearly doens't notice. but the marker is there and it is from this weird magic. Error is watching. just to be sure it is fine.

Killer gasping awake. Ccino focussing on just him. Keep rbeahting. Look at me killer. Don't look away. You are okay. You are okay. And Killer just staring at Ccino. trying to do as told.

And then the knights rush in and Ccino keeps crisis managing like a champ. He sends Dust to get the healers (and Error could have SWORN that the servant pathway was on the other side of this room. Not where Dust just disappears into as Ccino points into that direction) and Horror lays Cross, also wounded, nearby. Cross who is still awake staring with panic at Killer. Killer still not all there.

Horror being the guard but seeing the broken mask. But knowing he needs to defend them at least until the normal guard gets here.

The healers and guards get there and Horror and dust get back to searching while the guards and healers take care of those left behind. the healers taking one look at killer and shocked he is alive but well.. .ccino is here...

I love the idea that life is the painful and harsh part in the comparison. So that if people get a choice they CHOSE to remain to experience it knowing there will be bad parts as well. I love that the Tree is just dragging Killer back like a disobient child "What did you think you were doign young man?! Ccino is worried sick! You don't get to just disappear somewhere and leave Ccino behind sad and confused. You will go right back to him and stay there! No dying!" and exactly. The tree is storing magic to heal and recover little by little. but Ccino was so hurt and scared and loves killer so much even if he doesn't want to admit it. the tree nods and just uses this saved energy to bring killer back to its favourite person. Ccino deserves to be happy and the tree doens't mind taking longer to recover.

I think. that when Ccino was holding the woudns close he may have gotten like a few tears in his sockets but nothing fell quite all the way. this boy is so used to stress and pain he knows he can't break down yet. He needs to keep going. So the tears were there but they didn't fall. but i LOVE the idea that ccino is by killer's bedside. Having a cry session there. Realising he failed with helping nightmare. that he almost lost killer. So much pain and fear just needs to leave his body. So he cries next to killer, killer who is kinda awake sees it and feeling things about ccino being there still. beign by his side. Making sure he was okay even after killer clearly failed. Knowign that Ccino still made sure that Killer survived even if Killer failed to protect Ccino's most important person... Killer has feeligns. (also. something about how ccino only has bad memories about being near healers because of nim before. How he is willingly staying by killer's side to make sure he is okay. That killer isn't alone.)

The knights after almost losing Killer having to figure out that Nightmare is gone. That Dream took their little brother and king. That Nightmare trusted them to protect him and they all failed. (Cross would feel so bad. He sees it as his mistake. If He had just fought Ink Drema may never had managed to get past him. Cross feels so guilty. He didn't follow the plan and training they had done and Nightmare got taken.)

The knights seeing that ccino is THIS close to his breaking point. But Ccino STILL managing stuff. Managing the castle. the people. the country?! (them realising that when nightmare said that ccino kept the country running while he got used to his power was not a hyperbole or anything. He was being factual. ANd ccino is doing it AGAIN)

thank you thakn you :D

They don't have TIME To send out searhc parties and search everywhere. They don't KNOW what dream has got planned (maybe they fear that dream will STILL try to do the apple ritual. Seeing as Nightmare was suposed to have it. Maybe they fear that Dream wants to continue it and get that power. Not knowing that nightmare lost it ages ago or not being wlling to see that nightmare CAN'T give it)

Error working for two weeks in a row before having to admit he can't do it. He can't make it big enough fast enough. And he is near tears because he is so frustrated and angry at himself and so tired and he just wants his best friend back. Dust offering that he can charge it. ANd Error doing the math. changing some stuff to be able to receive the magic/energy and repurpose it to do what it has. Adn Dust blasts it to to hell and back (the knights seeing some of Dust's magic FULL force. FUll of dust's frustration adn anger. BEcause even if he practices. he never felt this powerless and angry and frustrated in those training sessions) The spell does what it has to and they get a location.

Cross convincing them that he WILL come wiht. He can and will keep ink distracted. He will make sure of it. and with Ink busy Blue and Dream will be easy to deal with between Horror and Dust. and they give in.

I love the idea that Dust pulled it all back. He knows they need to be sneaky so he did what he has done a lot in the past. Disassociate and njot let himself feel things. He is on his horse and trusts the horse to get him where he needs to be. Cross is nervous but Horror reassures him. Horror explains to Cross that the storm as they call it is directly connected to Dust's emotions nad feelings. If they want to be stealthy. Dust NEEDS to keep a tight control over his own state of being.

And we mentioned it in the other bits but yes. Some people in camp saw that nightmare wasnt this evil king dream made him out to be. that is just a child. A young terrified child who is BEGGING Dream to leave his fmaily alone. To not hurt them. Eclipse seeing what he saw before. He sees Nim in Dream. He sees that Ngihtmare isn't like Nim. Eclipse knows that he and his family mean nothing to Dream beyond their usefull ness. Nightmare meanwhile isn't even begging to be released. he is just begging dream to leave them alone. and dream isn't listening.(Nightmare's actual mask may have been broken but the mask Dream held up for the people who followed him broke as well.)

So eclipse does what he can. He sees the lilttle group of knights and makes the others back off. he goes towards them and they talk. He listens and hears what horror is saying. they aren't here for anything but their king. Their little nightmare. eclipse nods nad leads them in. Right to where they can get to work and gets eveyrone else to back up and just let them. Do not interfere and you won't be hurt.

And he is right. becuase even after the fight. None of their stuff is hurt or damaged. No one is hurt beyond a warning zap which jsut gave them a sunburn kinda wound. Nothing gets stolen. All that gets taken are Dream, Ink and blue. and of course the young king.

and yes! they encountered ink 100% first. and ink tried to yell out but Cross immediantly moves right in fron tof him. Cross knows that if ink is distracted he wont call for back up. and ink is trying to reason with himself and wonder what he has to do or should do. and cross uses the distracting to control the other. put magical blockers on him. and make sure he can't move. Ink is shocked but all in all? no fighting.

Dust meanwhile is DONE playing nice. He is going to make you hurt and make sure you remember it. He is going to show you why you dont'fucking mess wiht him or his family. He sees Dream. and for the first time in his fucking life. Managed to fucking aim the lightning bolt and made sure that dream got hit with the full fucking force of the fuck you lightning spell. (the whole camp. Watching with terrified eyes as the fucking heavens open up to blast dream with so much lightning that they didn't even know was psosible. itw asn't even for jjust a second. it lasted for almost a full minute of pure lightning.) and then drema just... drops. friend and barely breathing. (the only reason drema isn't dead? Dust wanted it to HURT. and his intent was to MAKE dream hurt. you can't have someone be hurt and dead at the same time) and FRIEND!! tHe idea that dream has a lightning scar?! That his bones just has so many lightning scars running over them? i love it. It isn't just one either. if you look at the scar you see it has different ligthning patterns. making it obvious it wasn't just one lightning he got hit by. but lightning after lightning after lightning bolt. I do like the idea that with time the scars heal but for a long time and through his entire redemption arc. the scars are there. very loud about what happened.

Horror is using speed and the element of surprise. Hell maybe horro doesn't even summon his own axe. He remains wihtin close combat range and rains punches down on blue. Not giving him time to back up and summon his hamemr. Not giving him time to reach a weapon as Horror just fist fights him into submission. and then the lightning happens and blue is blinded while horror is used to the flahs and just continues hitting him. Blue looking over and seeing Dream out cold (stop the family guy pose is so funny!!) and blue is panicking. he can't focus on the battle and horror defeats him. Blue is restrained and put in the back.

Error meanwhile is rushing to search for nightmare. and nightmare!! who was going to use the moment of distraction to make a break for it! They collide and Error lays on top of ngihtmare nad he jsut confesses. I love you. I lvoe you adn wnat to be boyfriends. Meanwhile nightmare is distraught because 'error?! This is the worst time! Where are the others? Dream wants to kill them adn hurt them and-' nightmare is near tears nad error scraps the plan. Error doens't let himsefl feel the rejection as he helps nightmare up and back to the knights.

Hroror jsut holding Nightmare. ngihtmare sobbing and sobbing as he sniffs through his quesitons of where killer is. if they are hurt. and please dont'hate him for getting hurt because of him.

Horror holding their little brother close. reassuring him killer is okay. ccino got to him and kept him stable untilthe healers arrived. and nightmare? nightmare doens't think about it anymore. he must have remembered wrong how bad the wounds were then. and of course ccino would safe nightmare's brother. nightmare relaxes but refuses to let go of horror. Horror jsut keeps holding nightmare with an arm and holding him close. (the people who still believed nightmare to be an evil king? feel a lot less sure now. now that nightmare was sobbing and hugging and hiding hismelf in the arms of this trained warrior. how gentle this beast of a warrior was with the smaller skeleton... doubt is being spread about how evil this king is exactly.)

okay i just read the bit where ink willingly put on the dampers?! I loke that more than hism being put in restrains. Ink was okay with willingly stepping down adn being restrained. that is so much better for him! Amazing idea spot!

Ccino has many rought nightmares and honestly remaining near Killer helps. because he wakes with panic and sees that killer is okay and resting. it will take a while and honestly. it isn't until killer and ccino became a thing. Because then they start having sleepovers nad killer realises that ccino has many many night terrors. Killer holdign ccino as ccino softly admits what eh dreams are about. How many doubts and what if's haunt him. How keeping busy helps him. Killer just holding his boyfriend. promising hismelf to help ccino and protec thim better.

and yes! The sillies that is Ink and cross's friendship! The knights don't get it but cross seems so happy that ink just wants to hang out and play games so the gang just kidna, shrugs and lets him. It works best that way.

I don't think nightmare would pick which cells they would be in. this boy jsut wnet through a traumatic happening and he just wnats to sit by killer to make sure he is okay bad be hugging by ccino to feel safe. The knights would pick the cells. adn they would 100% put ink between blue and dream to minimise scheming. Blue hates it! Just let hims tay wiht dream! Please! He eneds to make sure dream is okay! (only for dust to smirk and lean close "Oh. so when we try to make sure nightmare is okay we are evil but when you try to make sure dream is okay it is nobel and right?" and blue stares because no? yes? it isn't... he is trying to protect the... the prince of light and rightful king and... Dust just slowly tiltlign his skull "And what lies have you exactly told yourself to believe those things?" and just. AH!) Dust just using some light sparks to make dream shut up. to intimidating him into shutting up. to show that dust doesn't need to be outside to do this lightning spell. That he WILL make him hurt again. (each tiem dust lights a spark Dream flinching and holding one of his now many new lightning scars)

Let Dust be a MENACE! Killer is his bestie/first brother/kinda chosen twin. and Kilelr almsot DIED. those fuckers stole his younger brother nighty AND seriously hurt cross!! Dust is pissed. and he used to work in crime rings and black market. this guy knows how to make someone HURT. both emotionally and physically.

Drema learning the truth. all the truth. realising that nightmar ehad been right from the very beginning. because before the ritual. after the ritual. to seperate them for both their safeties. when nightmare begged him to not hurt killer because killer didn't do any of those thigns!

all of it was true... and dream... dream killed his twin's protector. Someone who just wanted to protect nightmare. Dream killed him and made sure it hurt. He forced Ngihtmare away from him so he couldnt'help him.

Dream feels sick. He feels so guilty and sick to his core. Allt he truths about nim and what she did and how much she hurt people. How dream can see... he can see that he behaved JUST like her. The whole time. He was the one who continued the cycle of pain and abuse. Not ngihtmare.

and then killer just walks in. clearly still bandaged and healing (because his wounds were so serious it would take a long time to heal i think). to change shifts with dust. dust is unimpressed. he can hadnle a bit longer of a watch to make sure they do nothing. yu are suposed to be resting.

Dream is shcoked to see killer alive but so relieved. he didn't kill him! Drema didn't murder someone close to his brother! He smiles and tries to apologise.

When Kilelr hits him with another fact. that if it weren't for nightmare loving dream dream and his little kngiht would both be dead. they don't care baout him. they don't give a shit about dream. Adn drema eneds to stop acting as if he gives a shit about them because they know dream doens't. they know that dream only wants to hurt them and stela THEIR little brother. and they won't allow it.

And that was it! :D

Hey! The ask!! Lets see if i can manage to type everything i thought about in the time i got my break!!

So. I got thinking. (This was also a half baked drabble idea but didnt feel like making it a full one so you are getting the idea like this!! >:D)

We spoke about how Killer would be guarding Nightmare in the raid where Dream manages to steal him.

The problem is. If Killer can still move this guy WILL throw himself at Dream to save Nightmare. Meaning that Killer has to be mortally wounded. (Also works with why Nightmare rushes to shield his older brother)

So we got Killer just laying in whatever room Nightmare and him ahd been in. Probably slowly bleeding out.

On one hand. You can have the Knights run in right after. But then what is stopping them from splitting up, one part staying with Killer and one part rushing after Dream? And it has been YEARS since Dream last visited the castle. He may not remember everything quite right.

So... in theory. It should take more time for the Knights to get to Killer. But Killer is mortally wounded.

So. In comes!! Ccino (my beloved).

Ccino had been going towards killer and nightmare after helping the servants and maids evacuate or go to the bunker.

He gets there to see Killer pretty much laying there dying on the ground, Nightmare no where to be seen.

What does he do?

Ccino's crisis management skills activate. He wants to find Nightmare but he has no clue of where Nightmare went and he has no way to fight whoever took him. Killer is in front of him actively dying.

He goes to Kilelr's side.

Killer, the romantic idiot, probably realises he is fucking dying. So maybe he is like. Maybe i can confess? (Add some extra angst and make it that the hit was by either his neck or spine or soul. Making him unable to communicate)

Ccino is trying to keep the wound closed but he has no healing magic. He doenst even have first aid kit on him beyond the bare minimum. What does he do?

Well... he knows there is one being still in the castle. He does a little prayer and asks for help.

For Killer? Killer is slowly falling unconscious. He tried to confess but cant speak. He cant even apologise for failing everyone and losing Nightmare. At least Ccino is here in his last moments. He isnt alone. So he falls asleep.

Maybe some warm light guides him. A familiar voice that was once a friend? He tries to follow only to be stopped. Stopped by something sharp and pulling him down. Back into the darkness. It feels like when he fell into a bush. The way those thorns prick his bones.

Killer at first tries to follow the image of his friend (were they his friend? They saved him right? So why shouldnt he follow them?)

Only to hear so soft. So quietly from the darkness. 'Please dont let him die...'

And that sounds like Ccino... so Killer follows that voice. Goes into the darkness and it feels as if he traveled through a overgrown forest with sticks and stuff all pulling on his limbs.

And he wakes up. His skull in Ccino's lap as Ccino keeps the wound closed and did the best first aid he did. Moments later the Knights rush in to assist.

(Yes. The tree pulled Killer's soul back to the living side while the memories of chara were trying to pull killer into oblivion and get him to die)

Okay that is all. I wanted to get that out of my system.

Okay. Hi. As always, losing my everloving mind over this. Gonna make a Cut so it's easier to scroll hehe-

First off, you are SO right about Killer fighting till he physically can't move. I think that the combat between Dream and Killer is actually decently drawn out, because Dream is kinda in a frenzy (Storm growing outside + just obliterated Cross as far as he knows) and as a mostly long-range attacker it was stupid of him to try and fight Killer alone in a confined space. Killer's fast, and has a lot more to lose if he loses this fight (Nightmare is still hidden but low key stuck, and Dream is very adamant about ending his life) so he gets up close and personal for a while and lands quite a few solid attacks. However, Killer has also heard about Dream. He saw the distress on his little face when Cross admitted who had sent him and why. How Nightmare refused to send an assassination party to end things prematurely. This is Night's brother, so Killer won't kill him. As much as he wants to.

This leaves him at a direct disadvantage, and anytime he backs off to recoup Dream shoots arrows at him. (I also think he took a couple on purpose, because where he'd hidden Nightmare was the trajectory and he couldn't block it fast enough). And then, I like to think that when Killer gets in really close one time, Dream summons his blades, the ones he was still a novice with. But! One of Them peirces Killer's outer ring of his soul, and Dream jabs upwards (kinda using his other hand on the hilt to have more force) and wedges it into Killer's spine just past his ribcage. When Dream does this it his the magical equivalent of a vein, and when he shoves Killer away and off his blade, the other can only stay upright for a few stumbles before he teeters and falls onto his back.

Soul out in the open, covered in wounds (I like to think Dream's arrows peirce and burn), and now bleeding and seemingly paralyzed, Dream pulls out his bow again, ready to shoot Killer straight in his target soul. But, he's still selfish, and he wants to monolgue a bit, curse Killer (who he believes has been controlling his brother for so long) and shoots his hand, then a gash in his neck from a well-placed arrow, until he can see that dusty layer rising on Killer's bones signaling it'll be a slow death.

But, when he finishes cursing out Killer, is ready to fire the final shot? Nightmare had been hiding in a wardrobe, when Killer had stopped talking he'd gotten worried and peeked out against his better judgement. Now, with the scene, he rushes into the crossfire and, like we've discussed, the arrow ricochets off the mask and knocks it off, revealing Night in his teen form.

And it's a quick pleading, a desperate little plea from Nightmare not to kill Killer, or hurt his knights or the people. To just stop. And Dream, after his moment of shock + probing Night's emotions to find this really is him, scoops him up. His intention was to finish Killer off, but the storm outside roars louder and he can feel a strong emotion hurrying his way, so he decides to retreat. Killer should bleed out anyways.

And now finally to your point!!! Ccino is absolutely the best option! The Knights have no idea what's happening inside, and all they can. Do to help is keep Blue and Ink occupied. Cross is down for the count and looking rough, and they just have to trust that Killer got Night out or somewhere safe. Ccino? Ccino finished his part of the job, efficient af, and is rushing to go find Nightmare and Killer. He doesn't know Dream got in, he doesn't know quite where they'd be, but he can kinda sus it out based on carnage and wet steps in the halls where *soneone* got it. If they did, Killer would probably be stalling with Night nearby.

And like u said, he gets there and finds Killer actively dying, and crisis management kicks in! Ough everything about this moment is so perfect... Ccino never learned medicine, and has no healing magic, so he can only make Killer a little more comfortable and put pressure on his wounds to try and stop the bleeding. And he *sees* that soul injury. No matter how well he staunches the blood flow with his apron, that would surely kill him without treatment. And Killer seems to still be conscious, but barely. He's fading. And silent, which is deeply eerie and Wrong.

And good gods. Killer wanting so so bad to confess because, he's gonna die anyways so he wants to get it out, but he Literally can't say anything?? Wauhh!!!!!

And Ccino reaching out to the Veing in the castle... praying, begging for Killer to be saved, because Ccino refuses to leave him alone, and also refuses to lose him. Killer was Night's first knight, the most important person in that kid's world (Ccino doesn't count himself). All the Knights rely on Killer for guidance and support. Ccino needs Killer in his life, this idiot, this criminal, is somehow one of his favorite people in this castle. Please, please, please don't let him go. Keep him here until help arrives. *please*.

And the Castle obliges. Not only is Killer the one who protected Nightmare, the prince who is restoring this land, but Killer is one Ccino values. Ccino is here, stopping his wounds, begging for help to save a life. He hasn't done that before.

And!!! The description from Killer's perspective!!!!! For all intents and purposes, it seems the warm friendly voice (Chara!!!) Should be the one he follows. It's gentle, beckoning towards a soft glow, it's peaceful. And then the tree's method of getting Killer back is to snag him. Darkness, unpleasant contact that stabs and pricks and scratches. It's not nice, it's not subtle, it's dragging him back into pain and agony of his injuries (even if it's not immediate). But Killer doesn't fight because he hears Ccino! Even if he doesn't process that it's him, it unlocks something in his core that makes him decide to take the hard route and push back through that dense forest until he's back to the living realm. Still on death's door, but alive!

Oh I love this visual so dearly, frothing at the mouth about it....

And ofc the aftermath. Dream couldn't find the main entrance, so he snuck out a servant's door and signaled from outside that he was ready to go. The militia (I think the guard was busy holding off militia members from entering the castle walls) retreats first, scattering into town and Rogers demands no pursuit, hold the walls strong. Then Blue and Ink narrowly escape by simply using Ink's magic puddles, appearing somewhere else in the city through a big enough rain puddle. (Though, miles out they're still dodging the occasional lightning strike).

Only after they're too far off do the knight rush back. Horror's got Cross (in critical condition due to a blow to the side of his ribs+spine but ultimately stable) and Dust leads the way to search for Night and Killer, also following the trail Dream had left, and... they find Ccino and Killer. Killer is very very much limp in Ccino's lap, they're basically sitting in a pool of Killer's blood, and Ccino upon spotting them rapidly tells Dust to go find a healer and bring them here. Immediately.

Horror sets Cross nearby and focuses his efforts on trying to help Ccino put pressure on Killer's wounds but he can't do much either.

But, y'know, the healers who have magic for it are able to stabilize him (they are flabbergasted that he's not dead) and Cross is alright too. Dust + Horror go searching for Night. Nowhere to be found.