#she is the most PRECIOUS protect her!!!!!!!!

[maretinelli]

THIS IS LOVE

Lando Norris X Piastri!fem!reader

Summary: When Oscar's twin sister shares a feeling with Lando beyond friendship, the first to notice is the girl's own brother. And then, he and Lily help bring the two together.

Words: 2.7K+

Warnings: I think you can consider it something like friends to lovers, Y/n and Oscar being twins, Lily being cute, idiots oblivious to feelings haha and hanging out with friends (couple)

Author: English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes that may be in the story. And you can request stories, just go to my profile and go to questions or messages. ❤️🇧🇷

MASTERLIST

"This could easily be a couples' date," Lando commented casually as he slung his arm around Y/n's shoulders with a mischievous smile on his face.

Oscar rolled his eyes, but a smile escaped the corner of his lips. Y/n, in turn, laughed, pushing Lando's arm away from her shoulders.

"Hey, don't push it, Norris," she said, still laughing as the four of them entered the bowling alley, ready for the friendly competition that always ended in jokes and teasing.

--------

It was evident to anyone looking in from the outside: Lando Norris and Y/n Piastri had something special. It wasn't just the close friendship they'd built over the years - ever since Y/n started accompanying Oscar to the races - but the way they seemed to understand each other on a level that went beyond the norm. Their connection went beyond words or gestures, and everyone around them could tell there was something more between the two.

Everyone, except themselves.

Lando seemed unable to hide how much Y'n meant to him, even if he didn't realize it or admit it. He protected her, pampered her, flattered her in a way that only he could do, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

On the Piastri twins' birthdays, he never failed to send Y/n a gift, no matter where he was in the world. Of course, Oscar got something too, but Y/n's gifts were always absurdly more elaborate and full of meaning.

Like that last birthday, when Lando had sent Y/n a pair of Saint Laurent shoes that she had proudly worn during the FIA awards. At that event, although Oscar had offered her a seat as his guest, it was Lando who had taken her, making it clear to everyone that Y/n was important to him.

That same night, he surprised her once again. Before they walked onto the red carpet, he handed her a small black box with the Cartier logo in gold. Y/n's eyes widened as she opened it and found a stunning set of jewelry: A delicate diamond necklace and matching earrings.

"Lando... That's..." She began, completely stunned, not knowing whether to look at him or the present.

"Yeah, I know. It's beautiful, isn't it," he interrupted with a smile, shrugging like it was no big deal. "It's just a gift, Y/n. I wanted you to feel special today."

"You didn't have to..."

It's about you. You deserve this, Y/n. You deserve so much more, actually."

It was impossible to ignore how genuine he seemed, as if his only goal was to make her smile. And he succeeded. Y/n smiled, holding the small box like it was the most precious gift in the world because, for her, it wasn't just about the jewelry. It was about the gesture. And about him.

It was a night off from racing, a rare moment to relax. Oscar and Lando had suggested a game of bowling to unwind, and Lily and Y/n had happily accepted.

They chose one of the best break points in bowling, the atmosphere was a place with colorful lights, lively music and unlimited drinks, where it was easy to spend hours having fun.

As they picked out bowling balls, Y/n looked at Lando with a challenging smile.

"You know I'm going to beat you today, right?" She teased, leaning slightly towards him.

Lando arched an eyebrow, returning her smile. "Oh, really? I want to see you keep that confidence after the first round, Piastri Girl." He stepped so close that Y/n almost lost her breath, and then gently lifted her chin with one finger. "Good luck, princess" he murmured, before patting her back twice with a mischievous smile and moving on to pick up his bowling ball.

Yin stood there for a moment, somewhat stunned, while Lily and Oscar watched the scene from afar.

Oscar sighed, crossing his arms. "I know you've told me how much they love each other and don't realize it... But my stomach still turns seeing my sister with Lando."

Lily laughed and lightly slapped his shoulder. "Cut it out, Osc," she said, shaking her head in amusement. "You know, Lando can be a little... overly cheerful, but if they finally open up one day, he'll take great care of her. You can see it in his eyes."

Oscar rolled his eyes again, though a small smile formed on his face. He knew Lily was right, but that didn’t make it any easier for him. She was his sister, after all, and he had a reputation as a protective twin to uphold.

Oscar and Lily approached Y/n and Lando, who were still exchanging provocations in the short break before the game started.

"Lando, come with me to get the chips so we can start?" Oscar asked, pointing to the counter at the back.

Lando nodded, giving Y/n one last smile before following his friend. "Don't worry, Piastri Girl, I'll give you a chance to beat me today."

Y/n rolled her eyes with a smile as he walked away. Lily, taking advantage of the opportunity, sat on the bench next to her sister-in-law, who was now absent-mindedly fiddling with her cell phone.

Only one other group was on the opposite side of the room, while the venue played upbeat 2000s music. It was the kind of place where you felt comfortable enough to forget about time.

Lily watched Yin for a moment before smiling and dropping the bombshell, "You like Lando."

Y/n almost choked, stopping her cell phone and putting it in her pocket in a hurry. "What? No!" she replied, laughing a little, but with a touch of nervousness in her voice.

Lily just laughed, shaking her head. "I didn't ask. I'm saying! You like Lando."

Y/n bit her lower lip, looking away to where the counter would be and could hear Lando and Oscar laughing, while they took the chips. She sighed and looked away, confessing quietly: "Okay... I like him, but you can't tell anyone. I like having Lando around and, if this doesn't work out, I would lose his friendship."

Lily smiled, touching Y/n's arm affectionately. "Do you think no one notices? Everyone knows, Y/n. Only you two are oblivious to it."

Before Yin could respond, the two pilots returned with the tokens.

"Okay, guys," Oscar said, handing over the tokens. "Let's make this a competition: Female Engineers versus McLaren Drivers."

Y/n arched an eyebrow, laughing. "Oscar, I don't do engineering. Only Lily does."

Oscar shrugged. "Whatever, pick any name. It doesn't matter, because Lando and I are going to win anyway."

Y/n laughed and crossed her arms, exchanging a challenging look with her brother. The coexistence between the twins had always been marked by this slight competitiveness. Despite this, it was impossible to deny how close they were, always teasing each other, but with evident affection.

With the teams decided, the game began. Lando was the first to hit all the balls at once, and he turned to Y/n with a victorious smile.

"See? That's the difference between you and me. I make it look easy." He teased.

From afar, Lily and Oscar exchanged a knowing smile. Lily leaned towards her boyfriend and whispered, "I managed to make Y/n confess that she likes Lando."

Oscar raised his eyebrows in surprise, but then smiled. "Really? Let's try to get the two of them together today, then. I'll try to get something out of Lando too."

"Deal," Lily replied, walking to the lane to retrieve her ball.

"By the way..." She said out loud, turning to Oscar and Y/n "Just for the record, Y/n and I are ahead in the score."

Oscar burst out laughing. "Honey, that was just the first round for everyone!"

"And that makes me better than you!" Lily teased, laughing as she prepared to throw.

The room was filled with laughter, teasing and the light energy that only they knew how to create together. Far away, Lando watched Y/n as she focused on her turn, with that smile that he only seemed to use around her.

As time passed, the game continued to be lively. Laughter echoed through the cozy atmosphere, accompanied by the sound of balls rolling and pins falling.

Lando, as always, didn't miss the opportunity to tease Y/n every time he hit all the balls, while she only managed to knock down three.

"Seriously, Piastri Girl," Lando began, with a smug smile. "You have to try harder. I don't want you to say you only won because I'm nice."

Y/n huffed, crossing her arms. "I'm going to win, Norris, and it won't even be hard. I'm just giving you an advantage so you don't cry later."

Lando chuckled, giving him an amused look before moving on to his next move.

Meanwhile, on the other side, Lily and Oscar watched the game unfold. Without the two of them realizing, they were discreetly planning how they would make Lando confess his feelings for Y/n.

It was Y/n's turn, she confidently caught the ball and positioned herself. But as she threw it, she lost her balance and almost fell. Before she could hit the ground, she felt firm hands on her waist.

"Careful there, sweetie," Lando murmured, catching her and helping her regain her balance.

Y/n's eyes met his, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. The two exchanged an intense look, a mixture of surprise and something else that neither of them could name. They were so close, they could feel each other's breath.

The trance was broken by the sound of the ball hitting all the pins. Y/n smiled widely and raised her arms in celebration.

"STRIKE!" She screamed, running to hug Lily.

Lando chuckled as he watched the scene, but he looked a little dazed, his mind still stuck in the moment he had just shared with Y/n.

Oscar, attentive as always, noticed his friend's condition. Lando muttered something about getting more chips and headed for the counter. Piastri exchanged a knowing smile with Lily before following him, determined to seize the opportunity.

Lily, for her part, leaned against the bench with a mischievous smile, watching Y/n tie her sneakers.

"You felt your heart racing just now, didn't you?" Lily commented casually.

Y/n rolled her eyes, chuckling softly, not responding.

At the counter, Oscar approached Lando, who was distracted as he waited for the new chips.

"What's up? Everything okay?" Oscar asked in a casual tone.

Lando let out a short laugh and nodded. "All right, man."

Oscar crossed his arms, looking at him with a calculating expression. "So... Y/n is doing well today, huh? Or is it you who's distracted with her around?"

Lando paused for a moment, clearly uncomfortable. "What are you talking about, Oscar?" he asked, trying to hide it, but the slight blush on his face gave it away.

Oscar raised an eyebrow, noticing his friend's discomfort. "Ah, don't act like you don't understand, Norris. It's kind of obvious, you know?"

Lando laughed nervously and looked away, trying to appear casual. "Obvious what, Oscar? We're talking about bowling, remember?"

Oscar took a step closer, as if he were about to reveal a secret. "You know what I'm talking about. It's not bowling that's making you this way. It's my sister."

Lando snorted, shaking his head. "You're imagining things. Y/n and I are friends...close, that's all."

Oscar gave a cynical smile. "If you say so... But let me give you a warning: If you want something more, you better not play with her feelings. Because I won't hesitate to put you up against the wall if you hurt my sister."

Lando's tone grew more serious as he stared at Oscar. "I would never do that. Never."

Meanwhile, Y/n and Lily noticed how late they were. The Piastri girl looked at the delicate watch on her wrist.

"What's taking so long?" She puts her hands on her hips. "I'll take a look, I'll be right back, okay?"

Lily smiles, knowing it was a plan. "Sure, I'll take a break here."

Y/n smiles and starts to approach where they were. The counter wasn't facing the tracks, so they couldn't see the two pilots talking.

Walking down the hallway, she bumps into her brother, who is smiling mischievously. "Hey, look at you there!" She smiles and before she can say anything else, Oscar grabs her shoulders.

"I'll be with Lily if you need anything." He smiled and left.

Y/n frowns without understanding anything and opens her arms in question, as she watches her brother disappear into the hallway and return to the bowling alley.

"Y/n!" Lando's voice echoed behind her.

She smiles, oblivious to what had happened between her brother and Lando. "Hey, I thought you ran away from us!" Y/n laughs, lightly hitting his chest, but when she sees his nervous expression, her smile falls. "What's wrong?"

"I... need to talk to you. Now."

She stares into his green eyes, trying to understand what could be wrong, but nods. "Okay. Let's go."

They walk in silence to a quieter area of the venue, away from the noise of the bowling balls and the excited laughter. Lando stops, taking a deep breath, and turns to her.

"Y/n, before I say anything, I want you to know that... I never meant for this to happen. And I feel terrible about it, because you're Oscar's sister. But... ever since the first time I saw you, back at McLaren, at the first race... I haven't been able to stop thinking about you,"

Y/n's eyes widen in surprise as he continues, his voice becoming more hesitant.

"I tried, I swear I tried to ignore it. But you're amazing, Y/n. You make me laugh, you make me nervous in a way no one else can... And I know it's wrong... I guess... and that I shouldn't feel this way, but I can't help it."

Lando runs his hand through his hair, frustrated, his eyes fixed on the floor. "I'm sorry, I know this is absurd. And I... I don't expect anything from you. I just needed to get this out of my system. Because my love for you is overflowing."

He turns to leave, but Y/n quickly grabs his arm.

"Lando, wait!" He stops, reluctant, but doesn't look at her. "You're not the only one who feels this way," she says, her voice low, almost a whisper.

Lando looks up, surprised.

"Ever since that day... ever since you showed up at the McLaren garage and started talking to me like we were already friends... I knew you were different. And I tried to ignore it too, because you're my brother's best friend and you work with him, and that would complicate everything, but..." Y/n smiles shyly. "I guess my heart doesn't care much about rules. Because it loves you too."

Lando stares at Y/n in silence for a moment, as if trying to understand if what she said was real. Then, a nervous and relieved smile appears on his face.

"Are you serious?" he asks, his voice almost breathless.

She laughs, feeling her cheeks heat up. "I am. And I think Oscar already realized that, from the way he was acting just now.

Lando laughs too, feeling his nervousness dissipate. "He probably knows. He knows everything."

Y/n steps forward, staring at him closely. "So, what do we do now?"

Lando hesitates for a moment, but soon his fingers touch hers, intertwining them delicately. "I don't know. But I want to find out with you."

She smiles, and before he can think too much, Y/n pulls him into a slow, passionate kiss. Lando holds her tightly, as if he's been waiting for this moment forever.

[goldsainz]

# RAFE CAMERON — THE SOFTEST LOVE !

MASTERLIST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ with fatherhood comes a softness rafe learns to embrace.

002. WARNINGS !

✯ cursing (shit, once), smidge of angst but it’s really all just comfort, daughter’s name is ellie.

003. NOTE !

✯ guys i fear i’m having a severe case of baby fever… like it’s BAD bad. i have a pile of requests and yet i can only write dad!fics😓

word count : 693

The morning sun spills through the sheer curtains, casting a warm golden glow over the bedroom. It’s early—too early, really—but you’ve learned that time doesn’t quite matter anymore. Not with your daughter, Ellie, in your life.

She stirs in her bassinet beside the bed, little whimpers escaping her lips, her tiny fingers curling and uncurling as if reaching for something—or someone.

Rafe gets to her before you can even sit up.

You watch as he leans over the bassinet, his strong hands—hands that have known roughness, hands that have fought, hands that have carried weight heavier than he should’ve ever had to bear—now moving with the utmost gentleness.

“Hey, princess,” he murmurs, his voice still thick with sleep. He scoops her up with ease, cradling her against his bare chest. “What’s got you up so early, huh? Just missed me?”

You smile, sinking back into the pillows, watching the way he rocks her. Ellie makes a small, contented noise, her tiny body relaxing against him as if she knows she’s safest there, all while Rafe looks down at her like she hung the moon.

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to it—the way fatherhood softened him in ways you never imagined. You knew he’d love her, knew he’d protect her with every fiber of his being, but this? The quiet devotion? The way he’d wake up at the slightest noise she made? The way he held her like she was the most fragile, precious thing in the world?

It was something else entirely.

“She wasn’t even crying,” you tease, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “You just wanted an excuse to hold her.”

Rafe glances over at you, smirking, but there’s no denying it. He’s been completely, utterly wrecked by his little girl.

“I mean… can you blame me?” He carefully sinks onto the edge of the bed, adjusting Ellie so she’s nestled against him, her tiny cheek pressed against his chest. “She’s already the cutest thing on the planet, and she hasn’t even hit the cute ‘trying to talk’ phase yet.”

You hum in agreement, shifting closer, resting your chin on his shoulder as you reach out to stroke Ellie’s soft curls. “She has your eyes, you know.”

Rafe lets out a breath, something unreadable flickering in his gaze.

“I hope she doesn’t get anything else from me,” he says, quieter this time.

You frown, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. “Rafe…”

“I just—” He shakes his head, adjusting Ellie slightly as she squirms. “I look at her, and I want her to have everything good in the world. And I think about all the shit I’ve done, all the mistakes I’ve made… and I just—I don’t ever want her to see that side of me.”

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his voice.

“She won’t,” you reassure him, your hand sliding down to rest over his. “She’s going to grow up knowing the version of you that sings her to sleep, and carries her around the house for hours when she won’t settle, and wakes up before dawn just to hold her. That’s the only version of you that will matter to her, Rafe.”

His jaw tenses, but you see the way your words land, see the way his shoulders relax just slightly.

Ellie lets out a tiny sigh in her sleep, her little hand clutching at his necklace. Rafe huffs out a small, amused breath, shaking his head.

“She’s got me wrapped around her little finger already, huh?”

You grin. “Oh, absolutely.”

He turns to you then, pressing a kiss to your forehead before shifting to press another to Ellie’s, lingering there for a moment.

“You two are gonna be the death of me,” he murmurs.

You laugh, curling into his side, wrapping an arm around both him and Ellie. “No, we’re just here to make sure you keep that soft heart of yours.”

Rafe scoffs, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he holds his girls a little closer, letting the morning light wrap around all three of you like a promise.

Softness. Love. A life worth protecting.

And for once, Rafe Cameron has everything he’s ever needed.

[echo-riot]

OMG THE AMBESSA TAKING CARE OF THE LITTLE GREMLIN WAS SO SO SO CUTE. WHAT IF WE HAD A LIL SUMTHING ABOUT THE KID CALLING AMBESSA MOM TOO? 🥺🥺🥺🥺

The Missing Piece

Warnings: None! Just pure, wholesome fluff.

The house was quiet except for the soft hum of life inside. You sat on the couch, curled up with a book, savoring the rare peace. Ambessa was in the next room with your toddler, and though you couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying, the occasional bursts of giggles told you everything you needed to know.

She’d slipped into the role of a second parent more naturally than you could’ve ever expected. At first, it was small things—helping your child open juice boxes, carrying them on her broad shoulders, or patiently explaining why eating crayons wasn’t the brightest idea. But over time, she became something more—a constant presence, a protector, someone who your toddler adored beyond words.

“Mommy!” your child’s tiny voice called, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Look what I made!”

You looked up as Ambessa stepped into the room, holding your toddler’s hand. In their other hand was a piece of paper covered in colorful scribbles—an attempt at a family drawing.

“Look!” they said again, proudly holding it up. “It’s me, and you, and… Mom!”

You froze for a moment, processing the word that just left your child’s mouth. Your eyes flicked to Ambessa, whose usually unshakable expression faltered. Her eyebrows raised, her lips parting slightly in surprise.

“Mom?” Ambessa asked softly, crouching down to meet your toddler’s eyes.

Your child nodded enthusiastically, beaming. “Yeah! You’re Mom, too! Mommy said you love us, so you’re my mom now!”

Ambessa’s sharp, battle-hardened features softened into something unrecognizable—vulnerable, almost shy. She blinked a few times, like she wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly, before a small, rare smile broke across her face.

“Well,” she said, her voice low and steady, “I suppose that makes me the luckiest ‘Mom’ in the world, doesn’t it?”

Your toddler giggled, throwing their arms around her neck. Ambessa caught them effortlessly, lifting them into her arms as though they weighed nothing. She held them close, her large hand cradling the back of their head as she pressed a gentle kiss to their hair.

You swallowed hard, blinking back tears as you watched the scene unfold. Ambessa caught your gaze over your toddler’s shoulder, her eyes warm and full of something unspoken—something unbreakable.

Later that night, as your toddler slept soundly in their bed, you found her sitting in the living room, staring at the little drawing they’d made.

“You okay?” you asked softly, sitting beside her.

Ambessa glanced at you, then back at the paper. “They called me ‘Mom,’” she said, almost as if she couldn’t quite believe it.

“They did,” you said, smiling. “And they meant it.”

She was quiet for a moment, her fingers tracing the crayon lines on the paper. Then she looked at you, her expression as serious as it was tender.

“I’ll protect them,” she said, her voice firm with conviction. “And you. Always.”

You leaned into her, resting your head against her shoulder. “I know you will,” you murmured, your heart full.

And in that moment, as she sat there holding that crayon drawing like it was the most precious thing in the world, you knew your little family had finally found its missing piece.

[sweetsaladpainterranch]

Challenges of Raising a 6 Month Old Demon

Lost Pacifier = Bad Time 😑

(Sorry that this isn't up to my regular standard, but hope you get a laugh out of it)

...

It was approximately 11:23 am at the Hazbin Hotel and the entirety of the building's demons were currently investigating every nook and cranny of their home. Among them included a very flustered Radio Demon, who sported a newly bloodied cheek with tiny fang indentions. He searched through the library, where he usually enjoyed reading horror stories to his daughter, and he sunk his shoulders in defeat when he came up empty. The sought treasure was no where to be seen and he could both feel and hear Evangeline's tantrum upstairs.

The morning had gone like any other; teasing the princess, trying to get a rise out of Luci, and mercilessly psychologically torturing the hotel's tenants. Normally his fawn, being a daddy's girl, clung close to him and merely kicked out her hooves from his arms or shadow portaled around him (and his victims). However, she kept her favorite cat pacifier even closer as she constantly munched on it to soothe her newest budding fangs.

And somewhere along the way, Alastor hadn't noticed that it had dropped somewhere before the irritated fawn began getting aggressive towards everyone in her path. At first he found it adorable when she tried to hunt Fat Nuggets and shred husk's hat, but quickly found her behavior becoming troubling. Your daughter had gotten a hold of his favorite cathedral radio in the library and tried to use it as a chew toy. The tall deer demon immediately picked her up to face his lecture, but, instead, was met with a wide maw of small sharp teeth closing in on his face before he could phase away.

His sharp hiss of surprised pain drew you into the room only to find your bleeding husband holding your daughter out as far as his arms would let him while the tiny deerling snapped her jaws at him. Her usual cherub face was twisted into an angry red sneer of black eyes and gleaming sharp teeth.

She let out a shrill cry and shook her little fists when you took her into your arms in an attempt to rock her into calmness. You looked at your husband questioningly and he shakily informed you that she had been fed and changed and he didn't know why Evangeline was so disturbed. You looked around (while once again using your aura to cancel out the baby's shadow portals) and noticed your child's missing accessory.

As soon as you pointed out the pacifier's absence, the Radio Demon's eyes immediately widened in understanding, and he promised to return with Evie's beloved pacifier. Before you could stop him, Alastor had already turned and left with a purposeful stride while you decided to return to the nursery with the fussy fawn.

The room was protected from Evangeline's portal magic so you could put her down without worrying about her portalling off to take another bite out of her father. You could feel the static rising from the lower floors as your husband searched the hotel, and you felt terrible that he most likely also threatened the guests to help him look.

With a tired sigh, you dodged the stuffed animals your child threw randomly in her growing frustration and opened the tall emergency cabinet. Within, there were different tools for various situations, like angelic weapons, holy water, rolls of mammon bills, and various magic tomes. All very useful, but you needed what was located in the small glass box at the top shelf, which was maybe the most important. With cautious reverence, you broke the glass seal and removed the precious device hidden within.

Several hours later, your poor, disheveled Alastor returned from the search with a triumphant smirk as he strutted towards where you sat, typing up a logistics report for Charlie. He held the found pacifier over your keyboard and awaited your praise for his exhaustive efforts.

"Great job, love! I'm very proud of you." you offered him with a pleased smile noticing the dust and blood that were smeared across his jacket. You could only imagine where he had found that damn pacifier.

"But...you see-", you were cut off by how Alastor's eyes shone with pride.

He smiled even bigger and began to walk himself to the nursery's quiet door, "I've no idea how you managed to endure Evagenline's tantrum for so long, but I shall fix everything!"

"Listen dear-" you tried to halt him, but he had already walked through the door and came to an immediate stop as he took in the room he believed his daughter was rioting in. There sat Evangeline, serenely coloring on the floor and cooing sweetly when she noticed her father staring at her in disbelief as she waved her pacifier in the air. Alastor could only cock his head a full 180 degrees in your direction as you slowly slumped in your chair.

"I... had Rosey prepare a spare in case Evie lost her main pacifier.", you said while getting up and wearily approaching the incredulous deer demon. "I tried to tell you before you ran off, Al, but you had already gone in a flash and I needed to see to the baby."

By the end of your sentence, Alastor had simply fallen over on his face in frustrated defeat and you bent to gently stroke his hair and ears. Evangeline had also seen to comforting her exhausted father by jumping on his back and also playing with his fluffy ears as she had seen you do.

He said nothing but you could swear you heard a soft purr emanating from your deflated husband.

***

Hey everyone, I know it's been a minute, but I'm trying to get back into the habit of writing every day, and what better than a recent happening within my own home. Somehow, I managed to lose my daughter's favorite pacifier and she threw the biggest fit, so I spent all that afternoon looking for it EVERYWHERE (even my mom's house). But my partner, the wonderful mother that she is, simply pulled a spare out of a cabinet as soon as I told her...I just went to take a nap.

😂😂

Get a partner that's always prepared for you to lose shit lol

-S.S.P.R.

[rillils]

pairing: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes rating: T wordcount: 2121 tags: established relationship, tooth-rotting fluff, kid fic, Bucky's metal arm, domestic boys my beloved notes: this smol thing is just an attempt at getting me out of an agonizing writer's block. it fills my @stuckybingo card square O2 - Touching foreheads, and my @wintershieldbingo card square Fluff. I also used this amazing post as a reference for Bucky's (most recent) metal arm. summary: Now, at sixteen months old, Sarah refuses to be laid in her crib for the night unless the arm is laid down beside her. Nineteen pounds of unyielding vibranium, with a grip that could crush a human skull as effortlessly as it could an egg, and she makes it look almost precious. Endearing. Something to be loved; worthy of being loved because she loves it.

You can read it on AO3, or under the cut!

-

It’s not that Bucky means to circle back to the nursery, tonight. In fact, he ought to head straight to bed and catch some hard-earned zee’s while he still has the chance, now that the princess’ diaper’s been changed, and his teeth have been brushed minty-fresh and his sleep shirt is not smeared with drool, snot, or sticky remnants of Sarah’s dinner. But the pull is too strong, and so here he stands, one-armed and bone-tired and hovering by Sarah’s crib like a lovestruck puppy, unable to walk away. Again.

Yes, it’s a curious predicament.

Made so much more curious by the odd presence in his daughter’s bed – a lumbering silhouette of gleaming metal, peeking out from under Sarah’s favorite blanket like a second, strange-looking baby, that she demanded to have with her.

That one right there, that’s a recent development, and one Bucky can’t truly make sense of just yet. But he can’t look away.

It ties a knot in his chest, his heart squeezed tight in the middle, between his lungs and his stomach and the cage of his ribs, beating wild and fluttery and disbelieving at the sight. At the sharp, cutting tenderness of his daughter wrapped protectively around the log-shape of his prosthetic arm, her little body curled like a parenthesis around it; her tiny fingers splayed over the glossy black plates of his bicep, her warm breath misting the rounded swell where his shoulder is.

It nearly hurts to see it; but it’s a sweet hurt, this one.

The first time Sarah saw Bucky pop the arm out its socket, she was four months old and sitting back against Steve’s chest, happily gnawing on her own dimpled fist as Papa bounced her gently in his arms.

Bucky hadn’t meant to show her; not yet, at least.

He’d been so careful up until then, almost to the point of paranoia, only ever removing the prosthesis when Sarah was already asleep, and dutifully slipping it back on for her late-night feedings; too scared that she might cry, startled by the anomaly of it all; afraid, or so he told himself, that she might simply be too young to understand.

“I just don’t think she’s ready to see that,” he’d shrugged at Steve’s prodding, just a few nights before, curled up in bed with the metal arm still firmly on, comfort be damned, because Sarah had only just dozed off again with a full tummy and a clean diaper, and the sun was about to rise anyway.

Steve had gathered him close, his broad chest pressed like a shield against Bucky’s back, and he’d threaded their fingers, warm flesh and gold-rimmed vibranium, together.

He hadn’t made Bucky say it out loud. That he wasn’t ready yet. Ready to be the thing their daughter was afraid of. The thing that made their sweet baby cry and twist away in fear, sobbing, seeking safety and shelter in somebody else.

But Steve had known.

Bucky had felt it. In the comforting hold of Steve’s arm wrapped around his waist. In the enveloping warmth of Steve’s voice as he rumbled, soft into the tousled fall of Bucky’s hair, their heads sharing one pillow, “It’s all right, Buck. You’ll choose when.”

And then one night, Bucky had simply forgotten himself.

He hadn’t even realized what he’d done, not until Sarah had abandoned her drool-coated fist to burst into happy, cascading, heart-squeezing giggles.

Bucky had seen his own surprise mirrored on Steve’s face. Steve’s mouth was agape, his eyes wide with shocked delight – while Bucky himself stood frozen from head to toe like a deer in the headlights, the metal arm still gripped in his hand.

Steve had spoken first, hot on the heels of their daughter’s first laugh.

“Oh my god, Buck– Do it– do it again.”

And cautiously, careful not to feed the little bubble of hope already blooming in his chest, Bucky had. Eyes locked on their baby, he’d allowed the arm to click back into place; and then, with a trembling hand, he’d popped it off again.

Sarah had lost it, erupting into peals and peals of these sweet, full-bellied giggles that made her little tummy shake under Steve’s hand, and something – something had come loose inside Bucky’s chest. A weight that had been sitting on top of his lungs for longer than he’d realized, stunting his every breath.

He’d cried, after.

He’d wet Steve’s shoulder with his tears, and then he’d laughed, his cheeks still glistening, raking his flesh-and-bone fingers through his hair, almost hysterical with relief.

“Thank God,” he’d half-chuckled, half-sobbed, his face cupped in Steve’s big hands, Steve’s lips warm and soothing against his brow. “Thank God...”

Now, at sixteen months old, Sarah refuses to be laid in her crib for the night unless the arm is laid down beside her.

Nineteen pounds of unyielding vibranium, with a grip that could crush a human skull as effortlessly as it could an egg, and she makes it look almost precious. Endearing. Something to be loved; worthy of being loved because she loves it.

She takes after Steve in that respect.

She can’t have missed Steve’s open doting on Bucky’s artificial arm, he muses: she’s been exposed to it her whole life. Every day since they brought her home, she has been the primary witness to Steve’s relentless displays of affection.

Before she could ever even process her surroundings, she was already watching Papa pepper feather-light kisses up Dada’s shiny metal arm, or lace their mismatched fingers together, or bring Dada’s metal hand to his lips to kiss the black and gold of Dada’s knuckles.

Maybe it was Steve, then: consistently, unwittingly teaching their daughter that this strange part of Dada can be loved, too. Maybe this is all his doing. Or maybe, maybe Sarah decided that all on her own. After all, Bucky muses with no small amount of pride, she’s proving herself to be just as willful a creature as her father ever was.

He reaches down to stroke the softness of her hair, cradling the back of her head in his palm.

His baby. His sweet little weirdo.

“You know you’ve been standing there for like twenty minutes now, right?”

The voice comes in a soft octave, one notch louder than a whisper, but no more than a gentle rumble.

Bucky turns his head, and he finds Steve exactly where he expected to find him: his big body leaned leisurely against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest and a knowing smile curling his lips. Bucky hasn’t been seventeen for a long, long time; but the whispering flutter he feels now in his heart knows no age.

“Shut it, Rogers,” Bucky teases back just as softly, straightening up with one last caress to Sarah’s wispy hair. “Like I didn’t catch you doing the exact same thing just a couple nights ago.”

Steve pushes himself off the doorframe, hands held up palms-out, briefly ducking his head in a humble “guilty as charged” gesture.

“She asleep?” he asks, approaching Bucky and the crib on soundless socked feet.

Bucky nods. He can’t stop his gaze from traveling back to Sarah’s slumbering frame, sweet and cozy under her blanket.

“Out like a light,” he says, and if it sounds even half as hopelessly fond as he thinks it does, well, that can’t be helped, now can it.

He feels Stee’s arms loop around his waist, soon followed by the familiar jut of Steve’s chin hooking over his shoulder, locking the embrace in. It’s a gentle hold, Steve’s thickly muscled arms fitted just snugly enough around him, and Bucky sinks into it with a pleased sigh, happy to soak up all the warmth Steve is so generously offering.

His only hand settles over Steve’s own, where it rests against Bucky’s stomach, his thumb stroking absently over the downy hairs dusting Steve’s wrist.

“I don’t get it,” he speaks quietly into the comfortable silence. “She could have her pick of stuffed toys to sleep with. I mean, we’ve got ourselves a whole-ass zoo up there,” he adds, gesturing towards the shelf currently hosting a small army of stuffed bears, penguins, unicorns, the odd shark, two giraffes, and a pink crocodile he won for her at a fair, which Sarah barely ever deigned with a passing glance, “every shape, size and color under the sun, but nope. She has to cuddle up with the lump of metal.”

“It’s not just any lump of metal,” Steve corrects him, with a meaningful squeeze of his arms around Bucky’s middle. “It’s you. Smells like you. Feels like you. It’s like you’re right there with her, holding her.” His lips know a spot hidden in the crook of Bucky’s neck, and they find it now to place a kiss there; the warmth of it tingles right under Bucky’s skin, dancing like so many sparks of gold down his spine. “That shit beats a measly teddy bear one thousand to nothing, honey.”

That gets a chuckle out of Bucky. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” And he can’t see Steve’s face, but he can hear the smile in his voice when Steve speaks, pouring sweet mumblings in Bucky’s ear as he rocks their bodies gently in his embrace. “This way, she can fall asleep knowing that daddy is here, that daddy loves her. That he’ll keep her safe from harm.”

It feels like a sin to disturb this, but Bucky turns around within the circle of Steve’s arms, coming face-to-face with him. There, there’s the smile he couldn’t see before, private and sweet and only meant for him to see, so genuine it reaches up to the crinkles of Steve’s eyes.

If he were to touch his face right now, Bucky’s sure he’d find that same shape on his own lips.

“You really think so?”

“Absolutely.” Steve’s hands come to rest on Bucky’s hips, giving them a little squeeze hello. “Trust me, I’m an expert,” he murmurs, shining those luminous, earnest eyes of his on Bucky like they won’t steal the breath right out of his lungs. “I know what it’s like to feel safe in your arms.”

Bucky couldn’t say which of them leans in first, but their foreheads touch; and he can see the minute quiver in Steve’s eyelashes, when Steve’s eyes slip closed. Feels the ghost of Steve’s breath, grazing hot like a kiss against his skin.

Steve’s voice drops, ever softer.

“Only place I ever felt safe in my whole life, Buck.”

And it’s lucky, truly – lucky that Steve’s one of the only two people in the whole world capable of cracking Bucky’s heart open like this, and fill it with an ache as sweet as the one pulsing inside him now. And it’s unfair, so cruelly unfair of Steve to make him feel so tender he might just come apart, like he’s a wad of cotton candy and Steve is water, and the first cooling touch of him will dissolve Bucky into drops of pure sugar–

–now, in this moment where everything speaks of home, and they’re standing right here, breathing each other’s air, whisper-talking in their tried and true “the baby is sleeping” voices, socked feet on the cold floor and flecks of copper glinting in Steve’s beard when the lamplight hits it just right, and Bucky never imagined that love could make you feel so full it actually hurts.

He cups the back of Steve’s head, sinking his fingers in the dark gold of Steve’s hair.

“You gettin’ sentimental on me, Stevie?”

Steve chuckles under his breath, leaning back just so he has enough room to gaze into Bucky’s eyes.

“Always, honey. Can’t help but.”

“Well,” Bucky says, casting one last glance towards their sleeping daughter. “I got another arm right here, if you were wantin’ something wrapped around you tonight. Maybe not quite so shiny as the other one, but it still does the trick. Whaddya say, sweetheart?”

Steve looks at him, his eyebrows pinched together and that soft, tiny crease in between that Bucky knows so well, the one that tells him of Steve’s unabashed fondness when Steve himself can’t; the one that tells him, I love you, before Steve has even lined up the words on his tongue.

Bucky wants to kiss him.

Bucky forgets, sometimes, that he can kiss him. That he gets to kiss him, and when he doesn’t, it’s only because Steve beat him to it and kissed him first.

Steve doesn’t kiss him now, though his eyes say that he wants to, with every fiber of his heart he wants to.

“Yeah,” he rasps, soft as a breath and painfully tender. “Yeah, I’ll take that. If you don’t mind.”

Bucky, Steve will learn, does not mind at all.

[star2fishmeg]

congrats on your milestone!! so so very happy for you.

could I request a scenario # 127 with Jack 🫠 your most recent fic has me needy for him.

Thank you for requesting <3

SCENARIO #127 Situationship/fwb but it's unrequited feelings

📞 dialling…

“Why are you so upset about this?” y/n stormed down the bar’s empty hallway, past the bathrooms into an empty space at the end where nothing stood but the janitor’s closet, away from the crowds and ears. She spun on her heel to face Jack, brows furrowed and gaze glaring daggers at his pleading eyes. He had followed her like a puppy the whole way, running his hand through his hair and over his stubble.

When they came to a halt, he kept his distance, hands on the back of his nape and wishing he could reverse the clock and stop himself completely, from the beginning before he started crumbling. 

“Because I know he’s only sweet talking you for his own benefit, he couldn’t care less about you!” he babbled in a panic, something in his chest pulling and aching.

“And what gives you the right to decide who I talk to?” y/n spat, folding her arms and shifting her weight onto one hip, breathing heavy. Jack had never been this protective before, in fact, he’d never shown any feelings towards her social life like that. It was eating at him, she could see it in his face, the sweat on his forehead, the vein popping on his neck.  

“Nothing! I know! But I care about you, y/n, you’re my friend and-” he yelled, hands running over his face, one settling on his hip with the other continued to stroke his stubble. 

She stepped closer, aggressively poking at his chest and raising her own voice back at him, tears pricking at her eyes, but she choked them back. “-What makes him so different from you, huh? You’re my friend and you’re also fucking me. What’s the difference with him wanting the same?”

He wished she was wrong. He wished he could tell her she was wrong but months ago he had approached her the same. Just two friends with no strings going to each other for sex with one rule: no attachments. But Jack biggest problem was that he did care about her deeply, the more they hung out, the closer they became, and it sucked. It sucked how fond he was of her, and he knew she was fond of him too but the scale they stood on was unbalanced. 

He exhaled, breathing in for five seconds and out for five, sniffing and sliding his hands into his pockets. No arguments, no bad blood, he couldn’t risk the loss. Especially when it was y/n, she was too precious to him and sometimes he wished he’d never brought up their situation in the first place.

“Because…” he lowered his voice, pausing and shaking his head lightly. “I…I…it doesn’t matter. You’re right.” 

He took one glance into her eyes, his own glossed over as his lips pulled into a straight line. Turning to leave, his eyes stung, stomach twisting horrifically and tuning out everything around him. 

“J, wait,” she called out softly, fingers gripping his bicep. Jack’s heart cried, ‘let go, just fucking let me go’ yet the words never fell from his mouth. But she muttered for only him to hear her, “talk to me. We’re still friends.”

Y/n was beautiful. Always had been since the day he met her. Beaming smile, eyes he loved to look for, perfume he could never forget, a laugh like a melody, a humour that only he could keep up with, she was just beautiful. But she wasn’t his. And she never would be his. 

Jack wet his lips, avoiding her gaze in fear of falling under her spell, “Yeah, sorry…it’s just, uh, one of Quinn’s friends used to date him and one day he just…left, told her that used goods weren’t as, uh, valuable as fresh good, all that shit. I just don’t want him hurting you.” 

Silence fell between them, her thumb rubbing his skin with a gentle touch that felt like she had grabbed his heart and ripped it from his chest entirely. Feeling his jaw falter open was a humbling feeling, especially when the words he wanted to say were the most forbidden words anyone in their arrangement could say. It was so embarrassing, the confident Jack Hughes sabotaging himself.

“Sorry for yelling at you, I wish you’d just told me.” Y/n weakly smiled, appreciation finally processing and the worst thoughts that he could be in love with her fading. That. The dread of Jack being in love with her. She wasn’t ready to bear that weight just yet, she didn’t know what she wanted but she knew she was content with where they were at. Perhaps there could be a chance, but not then.

[shady-tavern]

Preview for "Lost and Found" the February Short Story

It was said that all mages were born with a power that was uniquely their own. For some children it was easy to see, their dreams full of visions of fate and others yet again turned everything to gold with their touch alone.

Your unique magic had been harder to notice at first, compared to some of your classmates. That wasn't too unusual, the current king's Grand Mage was a woman whose unique magic was the ability to sense deceit with a single handshake. Her ability that hadn't been obvious to her from the start since she had chalked it up to her having a good gut feeling for years. 

There was even a mage out there who could smell poison and hadn't known about this born skill of his until his mid thirties.

Your unique magic was the ability to find what others had lost, but not just any random item. Only what was most precious to a person and still got lost ended up in your possession.

Though in all honesty that was nowhere nearly as interesting as it sounded at first. Or cool. Or special. It honestly just meant that your little home turned into a hodgepodge of random junk, since your ability was, to your chagrin, a city wide thing. 

While you never judged people for the things that were most precious to them, you did judge them over how often they lost them. There were some people you were on a first-name basis with now because of how often they dropped by your tiny little apartment, chagrinned and hopeful.

Being known as the resident walking, talking lost-and-found bin was hardly fun. Barely anyone chatted you up without asking you if you had seen or found anything of theirs. Unfortunately, no matter how often you explained that only precious things showed up people still kept asking you.

You had a basket set up inside your cramped home, dumping all your findings in there, though you had a couple of people complaining that it damaged their bejeweled bracelet and others again were aghast to see that you did dump anything into the bin, even lost underwear. 

Look, you didn't want to touch that either, but what was the alternative? Letting it lie around somewhere in your home? Surely not.

It wasn't your fault people lost everything but their own heads – though not the heads of other people. It had been rather awful to find a severed head lying at your feet when you had taken a break from studying. At least the city guard had done their job well and both found and apprehended the murderer within the week.

Even when you started to work part time at a local enchanter's shop you kept finding random things all around you at the shop to the point where your boss started to set up a crate where you could leave things that the owners could later come and pick up.

Speaking of.

"Have you seen my blue shawl somewhere?" you heard your boss shout and with a sigh you looked up from the charm you had just finished carving sigils into to – yep, it was right there.

"On the table to my left!" you shouted back and a moment later your boss came bustling in, a portly woman with a smile bright enough to light up even the dimmest room and grimmest of moods.

"Lovely, thank you," she said, putting her shawl on, a precious silk thing with fine, shimmering embroidery that her daughter had gifted her before her death. "I'll head out to buy more enchanting components, please look after the store while I'm gone."

You made an understanding noise and then she was gone with a hum and a pep in her step. You knew her life hadn't been easy, that she had clawed her way up from nothing and had overcome numerous hardships and that her optimism was a hard won and worked on skill of hers, even or especially on the days when grief weighed heavily on her. You couldn't help but admire her.

You finished putting a careful layer of protective coating on the little wooden charm before you headed to the front, only to immediately trip over a book on the floor that hadn't been there a moment prior. You just barely avoided falling as you flailed your arms and you hissed out a little curse. 

You picked it up with a sigh and brought it out of the backroom to dump it the lost and found crate.

Honestly, why couldn't you have been born with the power to immediately know how many beans were in a jar? Or how many breaths people had taken in their lives? That seemed like less of a hassle than this.

Shelving the newest charm you settled in behind the counter, spelling a bit of dust away from a rarely examined shelf. Component shopping could take a while, especially when it came to bartering with adventuring guilds who knew their work was valuable and that few other people sold hydra teeth or basilisk poison.

As you waited, other things appeared around you. A hat that at least had a name stitched into the inside which was always nice since it made finding the owner easier and a half filled notebook.

You had just put the notebook into the crate, when you heard the little bell at the front door chime and you turned around with a plastered on smile to greet a new customer. 

"Welcome to Enchanting Encounters, how may I help you?" you asked as you took in the young man who stood there, looking confused and lost and like he had no idea why he was even here. He looked like he had cried too, eyes puffy and nose red like he had rubbed it a few times too many.

"I don't know," he murmured. "I, um, I wasn't really looking where I went, I don't know why I came here."

You eyed him. "I see?" What were you supposed to do with that? And should you ask him if he was alright? "Well, do you perhaps need anything then?"

"I just..." The young man slowly shuffled forward, glancing around with both confusion and curiosity. "I just feel lost, you know?"

You paused, staring at him, confused and baffled before things sharply clicked into place in your mind. Oh no. Absolutely not. Wasn't it enough that you found random junk everywhere? And what were you supposed to do about someone feeling lost anyway? It wasn't like you had their resolve or their determination or even just their hope lying around somewhere!

"But I suppose you can't really help me with that," the young man murmured, quiet defeat in his voice. "Sorry, I don't even know why I said that."

You resisted the urge to sigh or stare skyward as though you could somehow stare at whatever higher power existed. Magic was as strange as it was amazing and there was a lot people still didn't understand about it. A mage's unique abilities were one of those things and there had been a couple of mages who had reported their abilities growing over time.

Were you one of those unlucky souls? Lovely.

"Look, buddy," you started, then you made the mistake of looking at him again, meeting his gaze. He looked so small, so...lost. You exhaled, deflating. "I'm sure you're going to be fine."

To your surprise he came over to sit down on the stool in front of the counter, the one the shop owner usually reserved for customers that wanted to order custom items, which was always a process. 

You had only worked here for a month and you had long since lost count of how often she had to remind people that she neither sold wards against death nor did she sell anything that forced people to fall in love with them.

The guy started to talk about his ups and downs, his woes and his good times and how he felt he had no place in this world. That he had no idea why he even existed.

You didn't tell him that he existed because his parents clearly decided to get frisky nor did you tell him that no one knew why they were here or what their place in this ever changing world was. People just...lived.

"Why not make a place for yourself," you asked, half absentminded as you wrote new labels for charms you intended to make later once your boss was back, quill carefully and elegantly scratching over paper. "If you don't know why you exist, why not create a reason. It's your life, you owe it to no one but yourself if you do or don't make something of it."

The young man was silent for a moment, an aura of surprise surrounding him, before he stood up and you glanced at him, blinking when you saw the bright smile on his face.

"Thank you!" he said, looking like he had found something, some kind of enlightenment or hope or direction, giving you a glad grin and a downright flourish-y bow before he rushed out of the shop, steps brisk and mood a mix of determined and peppy.

"Huh," you said lamely. Well. All's well that ends well?

*.*.*

The young man wasn't the only one who ended up stumbling into your life for brief moments, looking lost and confused. You didn't get it, you were no philosopher or a philanthropist nor were you particularly wise. You weren't even a particularly nice person some days.

And yet, somehow, your grudging and sometimes baffled and at other times half distracted advice seemed to work for other people.

You also really hoped that your ability would stop there. What else was next after all, someone's actual, lost life? Why not a whole ass kingdom too, because apparently people could loose anything if they tried hard enough.

At this point people started to come to you even if they didn't feel lost because their previously lost friends and family members spoke so highly of you. Of course, most of those people you couldn't help, because they were not in a crisis and you didn't have what they needed. They left frustrated and baffled and some scoffed under their breaths.

You just rolled your eyes and kept working. When you graduated from the academy at last, your boss hired you full time while you figured out what you wanted to do next.

You could always request to apprentice under a Grand Mage to become one yourself, but you had to admit that you wanted to leave the city. You wanted to go somewhere where you could make life-long friends and be more than your unique magic. 

You wanted to test the limits of magic and find like-minded people and...well, you wanted to find your own place in this world. Sadly, your unique magic didn't help you one bit in finding what you needed, so you had to figure things out on your own.

"I do hope you'll stay a while longer," your boss said with a grin when you told her of your vague plans of leaving and traveling. "I haven't had such a good enchanter in years."

While that made you swell with pride, you had to admit that this city had nothing to offer you. Maybe it would be different if you were a different person, a different mage, but you had spent years here already while you had studied and you wanted to get going. You just had to figure out where you wanted to go first and you wanted to save up some money for your travels as well.

And then, one evening as you finished up an enchanted necklace after work, you found a severed hand with an eye imbedded in the palm on the table beside you just after you had set down your fine tools.

You stared at it and it gestured at you and for a moment you wanted to grab the huge book on common enchantments placed on a stand at the side and smack it until it was dead.

"No," you said flatly and the hand actually drooped of all things. "Find your own way back home."

Only it didn't. Instead it kept following you around as you wrote a label for the necklace and carefully put it in the display stand at the front.

It made skittering noises with its nails until you gave up with a groan. "Fine," you grumbled. "But I am not happy about this."

The hand made an excited circle on the floor before it led the way over to the door, scratching at it like a bizarre dog. You had half a mind to just lock it out of the store, but it would likely just stay right outside on the sidewalk until you left to head home.

"Did someone lose you or have you lost the rest of yourself?" you couldn't help but ask as you followed it down the dark street, your mage robes billowing in your wake.

The hand didn't answer, which was no surprise at all and instead led you to the local cemetery. That was the point where you heavily considered skittering away yourself or tossing the hand into the river on the other side of the city and then you'd swiftly leave said city yourself no matter your funds.

But the eye blinked up at you, big and glassy and far too green to be normal for any living creature and you relented with a sigh. Grumbling over your own stupidity and soft heart you warily crept after the hand until it stopped in front of a crypt, scratching at the stone door that covered the entrance.

You flicked a simple spell at it to push the door open, only it wouldn't budge. Pausing you took a closer look and then you waved your hand, removing the cloaking spell you could sense now that you paid attention.

The door was covered in sigils and runes, such an intricate knotwork of two styles that should not work together but somehow did, creating something downright impenetrable.

"Buddy, I hate to break it to you, but I can't get in there," you told the hand. "I'm a pretty good mage, if I may say so myself, but this is beyond me." 

You'd have to find an expert in sigils and then an expert in runes to even begin untangling this unholy mess, tied together like it was merely two strings and not two different forces of magic.

The hand made a hopping motion, pointing with its index finger and that was the moment you noticed the faint indent in the very middle, surrounded by circling runes and sigils like they were the best of friends. In the center of the indent was the symbol of an eye.

Well, that was rather on the nose now that it had gotten pointed out to you. You carefully picked the hand up and it flattened itself as you pressed it against the stone, the eye slotting perfectly in place.

A moment later the runes and sigils glowed and then faded like dust getting wiped away. You really wanted to know who had made this, because it was bizarre and fascinating and you'd really like to try such an interwoven style of magic yourself.

The hand wriggled as the door swung open by itself and you let it hop down from your palm. It skittered into the dark of the crypt, vanishing down the stairs. It returned a moment later, big eye blinking up at you and you sighed again.

Lifting a hand and conjuring a flame in your palm you followed the hand down the stairs. It was dark and cold but not damp and there was nothing down here, not even a spider or a bug or anything of the sort. Usually, crypts had at least some tiny critters scuttling around, but this place was dead and empty.

Well, aside from the body you illuminated a moment later. The dead man was laid out on a marble slap, his shirt missing and he was a mess of stitches that made him look like a particularly fleshy doll that had gotten sewn together by a very skilled seamstress. Also, one of his hands was missing.

The hand made hopping motions again so you picked it up to set it down beside the guy. He couldn't have been dead long, considering how fresh the body looked. The hand skittered across his bare torso, tapping its fingers, then it appeared lost and confused, turning to you, eye big and begging.

"Yeah, no, you're on your own," you said, half wondering how a simple hand could be so very expressive. It skittered closer, eye looking even bigger when it looked up at you again. "Absolutely not."

Five minutes later you left the crypt with a guy slung over your shoulders. 

*.*.*

If you'd like to read the full story, it will be up February 1st on my Patreon and Ko-fi! You will find other awesome exclusive short stories there as well!

If you want to check out more stories of mine, feel free to drop by the Masterpost, there is a lot to choose from there as well!

And thank you all for your support and kindness, from likes to reblogs and memberships, you make it a joy to keep writing and sharing my stories, so truly, thank you!

[monsterlimbs]

Okay third "sympathetic big bad" from bg3 post for Ketheric because he is the one guy that I think most can sympathize with, and he's truly the easiest to sympathize with.

Some horrible day, your beautiful Melodia, your darling wife, dies, protecting your daughter. You grieve horribly, but you keep going for your children. Everything for them.

Your daughter brings home a fucking IMMORTAL Aasimar, child of a god and declares her as her lover. A child or your god, yes, who you've known so far to be good, sure, BUT STILL A CHILD OF A GOD. It almost makes it worse that the Aasimar is a child of your god, considering you raised your daughter, per your wife's wishes, to trust Selûne, and you're worried that this Aasimar may use this to her advantage. And they're so in love yes, but that's such a scary power dynamic for you- what if Aylin asks your daughter to do something she's not ready for? How OLD is that Aasimar? And how could you live with yourself if your daughter was put into an unsafe situation, simply because you didn't put your foot down? So, you do, and your daughter's angry. Of course she's angry, you're telling her that her and her girlfriend can't be together, but she has to come around eventually, she has to understand what a horrible power dynamic that is.

And worse, worse than when your wife died, you're told your daughter, precious, sweet, innocent Isobel, is dead (who I believe was killed by Halsin in self defense with the Sorrow glaive, even though that content has since been cut from the game but y'know! so essentially, his daughter, in his mind, was killed by a damn druid, the guys who were supposed to be PEACEFUL). You spiral, of course you do, your precious baby is dead, how could you not? And when your god, Selûne, damned mother of that damned Aasimar, ignores your prayers to have your baby back, you turn to her sister, Shar. And Shar, for a moment, helps relieve your loss. In return for killing Selûnites, the same wretched folk that turned against you in your grieving, she rewards you, turns you immortal by letting you imprison that Aasimar that took a liking to your daughter. You're more than pleased to do so, to lock what you believe is a predatory Selûnite up. Shar helps soften your loss.

And then she lets you die to Harpers of all people, and uses you as a way to release the Shadow Curse.

You're revived (I like to believe by Balthazar), and shown the way of Myrkul's path, and HE, is the one to bring your baby back, a century after her fall. You're happily indebted to him, to have your child alive again, anything and more for your baby.

....But she's mad at you. She won't talk to you. She looks at you like you're a monster. She's STILL upset over you forbeying her and Aylin's love, and even more now that she knows you've been using her as a means for immortality. She doesn't get how much you did for her, even while she was gone. You've practically forgotten about all else besides her, and it hurts so bad knowing your baby is not only angry at you, but thinks of you as a MONSTER. You know she'll come around, though. ...And she's now running from you and hiding in the Last Light Inn.

Eventually, you send a Fist to get her and bring her back, and either, your daughter has been killed AGAIN by some random wretched folk- oh gods it's not random is it? That's Durge. OR, she survives and is brought back to you, OR she survives and is even angrier at you now. She doesn't see how much shit you've waded through, just for her. She only sees a man who's "gone too far". She doesn't even know how far you'd go, to keep her safe. Everything and more, just to keep her safe.

Whether she's with you or not, one day you wake to a suddenly... off feeling. ....Fuck, why do you feel so odd? FUCK, your immortality's gone, you can feel it. Your wounds don't close, you're vulnerable. And it's all the problem of, either, the folk that kept your daughter from being returned to you, or the folk who killed her and sent her back.

And once, Ketheric truly was redeemable. But now, he gets SO, SO, SO close and then Aylin's like "nah he'd NEVER surrender, isn't that right, you worm?" and he gets up and is like "oh fuck you" and every chance is gone. Then you see him again, and he's already decided, he WON'T grovel again. He's gone too far, he sees it now. Sweet, precious Isobel was right. There's no coming back from this. And if you try to convince him he's worthy of redemption, he selflessly gives up and his god ixnays his retreat. And otherwise, he may go down yes.... But if he's going down, so are you.

And then he dies. He dies knowing he's given up everything for his daughter, cursed an entire land, caused Hell for everyone, and that his daughter, sweet Isobel, doesn't even think he's her father anymore. In her eyes, he's so far gone that he's not even the same man.

[usertoxicyaoi]

"That's what I wanted most. I don't want to be treated specially based on my gender. Just ... normally."

SUGIE TAISHI AS HARU. KAWARETO OTOKO (2024). EPISODE EIGHT.

[carefulfears]

we've both talked about how scully isn't jealous fire. what differences do you see between protective scully vs jealous scully?

yeah to me the main difference is that one is more external and the other internal. she gets very emotional when she’s jealous. in episodes like alpha (literally sitting that woman down and going “i’m watching you.” cracks me tf up. Dana nobody is taking your man.) and war of the coprophages, it’s kind of angry. it’s louder, but still something very vulnerable and true to her (hater-ism). in episodes like the end, it’s heartbreak. that’s one of the very few episodes where i think she was purely jealous, and sad. she usually understands what’s going on and i think she knew as soon as she heard him call diana by her first name that something was going to change. i think it hurt her feelings, that specific display of connection, usually reserved for her.

when she’s jealous she retreats. she watches quietly. she cries alone in her car. she needs a moment to herself.

it’s when she’s protective that you can’t shake her for anything. one of my favorite images in fire is her standing in the doorway while mulder and phoebe meet with the arson specialist. i didn’t even notice she was there the first time i saw it. she wasn’t invited. she’s just keeping watch. later, she’s standing in the hallway. after that, she’s in his hotel room, and doesn’t leave when phoebe comes in. says “are you okay?” the moment they’re alone.

people write off her behavior in this one as being “jealous” because she has a lil crush and there’s another woman there, but i honestly find that dismissive. sometimes people discuss scully through such a wide lens, not taking into account who she is. she’s really surprised throughout the time that phoebe was there. it’s that soft edge that still shocks to cruelty, that she never really loses. it’s what shocks in the pilot when the doctor hits mulder twice. what shocks in the following episode when the government agents punch him on the side of the road. (look at you you’ve radicalized scully). it’s what makes her wary of jerry lamana, even before he stole mulder’s work.

but phoebe is so cruel, and so personal, and has so much history. it’s not jealousy that makes scully linger in doorways. it’s not jealousy that spawns that folie a deux. no one else understands. no one else can be trusted. (which i do kind of think started in fire, i’ve said before). she isn’t jealous that he startles when he hears this woman’s voice.

and i know that’s a lot on phoebe as an example, but it doesn’t stop. she doesn’t stop keeping watch. she doesn’t stop shocking to cruelty. she’ll get loud. she’ll make plans. she’ll surprise herself. and it doesn’t come with jealousy’s mortifying intimacy.

(don’t have much else to say but i found this from an old post of mine and wanted to share: “scully has that kind of protectiveness towards him that you have towards a child that hasn't been touched by the world yet. it's very 'the world is at least half terrible, though i keep this from my children.’ 'good bones' by maggie smith. scully in the beginning is like......there is something here that should have broken by now. and she wants to watch him be able to walk into every room with the most hopeful answer and a hand out to every stranger.”)

she shares him with the world only reluctantly, Etc etc

[sincerely-sofie]

I’m the anon that sent in all the Ruby stuff! It makes me so happy that you love her so much. I didn’t expect her to be such a beloved character to you and I was kind of nervous that you would have hated her tbh. ^^;

Something Ruby related — I had a fic about Twig and co. confronting the siblings before I ultimately scrapped it because I could not write villainous characters without making them feel cliché. I do remember this one line said by Ruby’s sister when she lashes out towards Twig:

“You wouldn’t get it. You have a cushy life style and you baby your daughter instead of actually raising her. We’re doing that ungrateful, spoiled brat a favor — we’re teaching her how to survive. You wouldn’t know the meaning of that with that silver spoon in your mouth.”

I don’t blame you for struggling with not making the siblings feel cliché— writing villainous characters gets 900x more difficult the second you don’t want to make them sympathetic. Ark was fairly simple for me to write, even in scrapped scenes where he was all-in with his villainous role during the events of the post-game. Twig’s aunt, meanwhile, gave me a heck of a hard time while I was developing her backstory.

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

Thank god Sasha was confirmed bisexual, otherwise people would hc her as lesbian solely and exclusively because she's kind of a bitch.

[shinmiyovvi]

「Call of Duty Black Ops Zombies Oc Trivia: Primis Valena」

Note: This trivia will be updated when another tidbit is added on the list.

POSITIVE:

Lena is a kind-hearted soul like her mother Lumina. She was considered an angel by anyone around her and she got the nickname "Anghel".

She learned how to play the guitar from Tulio and they would try to sing as many songs as they wanted during their time.

Lena and her uncle Felipe had a strained relationship together when her parents were still alive. Felipe would get scolded by his wife Rosalina if he ever tries to make her cry since Felipe hates hearing Lena whimper or even begging him to buy her sorbetes (an ice cream that is made from water buffalo/carabao's milk)

Regarding types of men, she likes a guy who would help her out in the house rather than being a couch potato. Lena adopted her mother's death stare at some point so she may use it as an advantage to threaten their partner if they ever try to be lazy. She loves getting affection so expect to see her very clingy when sleeping with her partner or even just sitting on a couch while looking at the sky through the window. Lena is a sucker for getting smooches on her face or even returning the favor to her loved one. If her loved one confesses their feelings to her or gives her a kiss on the cheek/lips, she will freeze and turn into a cute tomato.

Lena keeps her hair in a ponytail or in a bun. There is only a rare moment where Lena cuts her hair short when she recalls it, she ends up feeling like she looks like Licia if she ends up giving herself a boy cut.

The pendant she is wearing is a birthday gift from her late lover Sgt. George Huxley.

She has a slight crush on Dempsey during Origins but she shakes off that feeling and ends up slowly falling in love with Nikolai due to how his personality resembles a lot of her late lover.

Lena loves to collect flowers, mostly sampaguitas which she would make into a necklace (Which is very popular in small businesses in the country), roses, tulips, dandelions, and lavender.

Since Lena resembles a bit of her mother, there is no doubt that she has the same smile as Lumina does. Every man would find her beautiful and angelic as her smile can instantly melt their hearts.

Like her Ultimis counterpart, she usually draws on her journal to pass the time. If you ever have the chance to look at her journal, you will see some portraits of herself, the crew, and her family and friends.

Her uncle taught her how to fight and use a rifle while her aunt taught her how to speak Russian, German, Japanese, and English.

Lena considered Felipe and Rosalina as her own parents while Marcelo and Dolores were considered as her siblings since she was the only child of her family.

Lena has the most cutest giggles. Whether is just a small chuckle or a sudden burst of laughter, you can imagine how she could make a man go head over heels for her.

Pouting is one of her habits whenever she tries to disagree with something.

NEGATIVE:

Lena tends to overthink a lot which causes her to stare into the abyss and stay silent.

She doubts herself if she begins to feel pressured by someone, especially if the situation is crucial and needs her full attention.

She got a graze under her right eye from Ji Eun which she accidentally mentioned about her father as she observed that Ji Eun has a grudge against her father. Nikolai got angry at Ji Eun for grazing her face which she scoffed and left the two alone.

Lena tends to blame herself if something wrong happens, even if she didn't do it.

She is the type of person who keeps apologizing for the simplest thing in existence as people keep telling her to stop apologizing but she doesn't.

Lena constantly gets nightmares about her parents' deaths which weighed her shoulders a lot. She would often tell the others how lucky they are to have their own parents seeing them grow up and achieve their dreams to make them proud.

There is a time when Lena loses her temper and shouts at Nikolai during the events of BoTD where she also hits his face out of anger but later apologizes and the two make up with each other.

Lena mostly bottles up her emotions but during the events of Revelations, she breaks down in tears after Dr. Monty mentions her parents which he told everyone how much they loved Licia and cherished her.

After the death of her parents, Lena goes through the 5 stages of Grief which she starts to lose hope in her life until she slowly accepts it and moves on to be happy. It happens again as she begins to sulk and mourn George's death. She then continues to accept the reality, trying to fulfill George's wish by letting her move on and find someone who would love her better than him.

Lena considers herself a personification of Death to her loved ones as she often tries to distance herself from them for their own safety.

Lena would sometimes act like she's not being herself which concerns the others. She reassures the crew that she is fine and feels tired on their journey but in reality, she is NOT fine and needs someone's comfort.

[fauxnotice]

crazy how alien stage would have never gotten such a big fanbase if ivtl didnt exist. Not because its that good or better than mzsu but because no matter how you look at it female characters will never be treated the same way male characters are and the same applies to f/f ships. Like yes fandoms have mostly (not entirely though!) moved away from the trope of portraying women as nuisances that get in the way of gay relationships but now we have a new brand of misogyny that is much more subtle. and if you even IMPLY that some internal bias is the root of the way fandoms treat female characters youre looking too hard and youre too woke. Whatever

[fenharel-archived]

nooo i didnt make ysi/astarions dhampir kids in the cc aha i swear-

[kakusu-shipping]

I saw you were making moodboards for mutuals' self-ships, and I was wondering if you could make one for me and Moira? You've listened to me ramble a lot about her at this point and I'd be curious to see your take on our relationship [@solar-ships]

I started this with entirely too much Text and slowly chipped away at it with images that held the same-ish energy. I went in not knowing your colors but it's an unbalanced relationship anyway so it makes sense for her pallet to overtake it.. I think.