#this is longer than I expected but whatever

[lilacxquartz]

a touch apart;

mr. crawling x f!reader

plot: allowing mr. crawling to get closer, he tries his best to make you happy, trying all sorts of things — themes: oral (receiving), touching, smut, limited dialogue as i tried to keep it how it is in the game — w.c: 0.9k

masterlist • ao3

On the rare occasion that bedrest wouldn’t help you recover, Mr. Crawling would grow equally restless along with you, although more so just confused. In his mind, it would be his fault for not being safe enough for you. He watched over you as you rested, and kept his height to a minimum to ensure your comfort, and yet, you could never relax fully in this place.

In recent times however, you had been allowing him to get closer than usual—more than ever before, in fact. No longer did you react to his spontaneous hugs and head pats by pushing him away, and instead allowed for him to close whatever brief distance you both had. No longer did you also feel surprised to see him there all of the time, doting on you and waiting for you—instead rather, expecting him to be there.

So, when you again, didn’t quite turn him away, he crept closer towards you with a different sort of intention in mind.

He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing, but he knew that he wanted to be closer to you, any other sort of reaction was almost unacceptable in his mind.

He reeled you in close, feeling your frame mould to his own like the missing part of a puzzle that he never knew he was missing, finding solace in completing each other.

You sat on the bed, watching as he crawled towards you, stopping right where you sat. His hands wrapped around your legs in a needy hug, resting his head against your thighs. In return, you tried to offer a head pat back, offering soft and soothing languid gestures over his silky black hair.

Mr Crawling’s touches weren’t immediately invasive right away, although his touch dabbled on something slightly beyond just explorative, reaching further beyond than he perhaps meant to go. His ghostly palms slid over your thighs, brushing milky-smooth languid touches along your supple skin. However, immediately retracting his caressing from the moment you tensed up, fearing that he had done something wrong.

In a curious tone, he tried to assess the situation, “Pain here?”

You shook your head, hoping to shake off the creeping blush that settled over your complexion too. You weren’t entirely opposed to him exploring your body in that way, but you also wanted him to understand what he was doing.

Mr. Crawling then paused for a moment before returning his hands to the area once more, intently studying your reaction as he went along. As if mentally logging that your state was flustered, he seemed to register a certain thought in mind, his expression changing from cautious to curious.

“Happy?” he asked instead, his voice very soft.

Stifling your need, you nodded while chewing on your bottom lip.

Understanding the memo, Mr. Crawling carefully slipped his fingers just below your concealed sex, poking a finger inside to study your potential reactions. He seemed to successfully register that touching certain parts of your body meant for unique reactions, which made him feel excited in return, so this was a reaction that he definitely wanted to explore.

Moving forward with a tentative touch, he eventually let you wiggle out of your underwear, dropping the pair to gather right at your ankles. He then moved his fingers a little closer on one hand, using his other palm to spread your legs further apart with an idea in mind.

Slowly, he moved his head forward, propping his tongue out and licking where his fingers parted away at the folded area of your heat, seeking out the area where you were the most responsive. Your clit tingled as he successfully connected to it, biting back a barely contained whimper. Mr. Crawling took note of your flushed state, understanding that this must have been your body’s happy zone, before lapping at it in all sorts of various ways, only repeating the motions that seemed to gather the strongest response.

Such feelings were greatly reciprocated by you as you involuntarily anchored your hand over his raven locks, clawing—grappling tight against his hair—reeling in whatever you could in a fit of feverish need. Mr. Crawling all the while continued to flick his tongue against your sensitive bud, letting your pleasure rise to an almost burning peak—yet only teasingly so. Mr. Crawling, unbeknownst to his fleeting spurs of your own received pleasure, kept pulling back to catch glimpses of your flustered state.

Slowly but surely, you grew closer to your anticipated end, which he seemed to catch onto. Changing things up slightly to keep up with you, Mr. Crawling sped up the motions towards an almost hectic fervour, wanting nothing more than to give you as much of his ‘help’ as he possibly could physically accomplish.

Your thighs soon tightened and clamped shut from such searing anticipation; your fingernails clawing against his scalp as the rolling bliss finally mounted, until at last, the coiling warmth from within the confines of your stomach had at last constricted beyond the point of no return, uncoiling radiating sweeps of pooling pleasure flooded your core, so desperately pent-up, coming undone at long, long last.

Noticing such a reaction, Mr. Crawling appeared to be both happy and confused at your ruffled state, bringing you closer towards him right away, sitting you on the ground with his arms wrapped right around you in a tight hug. He seemed to understand that you greatly enjoyed such a thing but remained confused as to why you looked so distressed—so agitated, almost.

“Happy?” he asked again, his chin resting atop your head.

You breathlessly nodded, leaning into his chest, taking note of his obvious arousal now evidently pressing against you.

A thought entered your mind as you slowly caught your breath again.

Maybe you should return the favour?

[cheshirewrites]

"Darling," a voice calls from the door, "we have another one."

Dahlia sighs, and gets to her feet. The harvest had been going so well, too, she thinks to herself, sparing a glance towards the basket at her feet. The basket, as big as it is, is barely halfway full. The bottom is lined with freshly picked fruits and fragrant herbs, the usual kinds of things you would expect to find at a witch's residence.

She had been looking forward to working in her garden, and once she was done with that, checking on the magical creatures that tended to roam their woods.

Still, Dahlia knows what her lover is talking about, and that is far more important.

When she steps into the kitchen, Ari is leaning against the counter. There's flour on her cheeks and on her dress, and the smell of something baking in the oven, and Ari is engaged in a rapid fire conversation with a stranger.

And that, of course, is where the problems usually begin.

The stranger -- a teenager, because fate has always favored youth -- looks at Dahlia and grins. "'Ello, my good lord." Their grin turns playful. "Or should I say, my dark lord?"

"Neither," Dahlia says, as she makes herself comfortable next to Ari. "It's Dahlia, no formalities needed."

Their expression doesn't change. "Miss Dahlia, then."

Ari shifts closer, like she's going to tell a secret. "Do you have a name, little traveler? If you don't, I'm sure I can come up with something to call you."

"Fox," they say, and the name certainly fits, with their pointed features and scruffy, auburn hair. When they smile, it's all teeth. "My name is Fox."

"Well, little Fox," Dahlia says, taking a thorough look at them. Worn clothes, prominent ribs, a smile sharper than knives. "Cut to the chase. I doubt you sought out a dead hero and tyrant for fun."

Fox snarls, agitation clear in every inch of their body. "You are not the tyrant here," they say, angrily. "You aren't the one tearing apart the ground and poisoning the water. You aren't the reasons that thousands of people no longer have a roof over their head. You aren't the reason my Prince-"

They cut off abruptly, lanky body curling in on itself as a frown takes over their face. It reminds her of Ari, when she still kept her hair cropped short and always had countless daggers on her person. Back before she died, and was being run ragged for months on end.

"You work with the royal family, don't you, little Fox?" Dahlia says, not unkindly. "Many people in similar positions would call this treason."

The words have an undeniable effect, as Fox straightens to their full height. "I only work for the Prince," they say, "I'd happily watch the rest of them rot."

At her side, Ari smiles. "I'm glad that the youth haven't changed," she says, and her bright tone doesn't fit her next words. "Would you kill him if you had the chance?"

Dahlia gives Ari a knowing look.

Dahlia might be the former dark lord, or whatever it was they call her these days, but Ari is not without her moments. She had to learn how to fight somewhere, after all, and she has done a lot of things that aren't written in the history books.

She hides her amused smile behind her hand, and gives the two heroes a moment to themselves. It isn't hard to check on whatever is baking, after all, and Dahlia doesn't want to see her lover upset if something burns.

Besides, Dahlia thinks, Ari knows all too well the dangers of being associated with royals, and the price that comes with their status.

Of course, it doesn't really take that long to check the bread, and know that it still has plenty of time to go, but Dahlia gives them their privacy. She catches whispers, snippets of conversations, but doesn't pay them any mind.

Ari is more than capable of having this conversation on her own, and Dahlia will leave them be until Ari suggests otherwise.

It happens sooner than she expects. Her lover tape her shoulder, lightly at first, and then firmer, when Dahlia doesn't immediately respond. Dahlia just hums, gently closing the oven before she straightens, opting to lean against the counter again.

"Dahlia, my love," Ari begins, her expression somewhere between fond and pleading. "How do you feel about committing a little regicide? Might make for a lovely vacation, hm?"

Between the look in Ari's eyes, and the hope written all across Fox's face, there is very little doubt about what her answer will be. Between a former hero and dark lord, and their new little Fox, Dahlia is certain that the king won't survive another two weeks.

Dahlia smiles.

After all, things had just gotten a lot more interesting on this little farm of theirs.

The hero and the dark lord have both disappeared after their battle, making everyone think they both perished. In reality, they are living on a farm, living the life of their dreams.

[sun-flower-children]

Academic Rivals! Viktor x Reader

Academy Student!Viktor x gn!Reader

Here's my take on this idea that has been rumbling around my brain especially with all the new viktor fics ( yall are doing the lords work)

not proof read + a lot longer than I thought it would be, sorry lmao

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You were the Academy's top student known to be the top of the class with the highest scores always exceeding expectations.

Your creative thinking and problem solving is what normally got you the spotlight of attention within academia.

Naturally after spending your first two years of the Academy eating up the attention and receiving offers from multiple elite members of society, industry and government certainly made your resume/reputation an intimidating one.

Your peers knew you to be competitive and ambitious wanting to be the one to set the curve; extensive research projects, etc.

This did however make you a poor teammate with your passionate ideas that one of them could dream of keeping up with you. Plus you would steal the leadership role from them to implement the changes you'd want.

You had gotten used to pattern created for you with a bright future ahead.

Even if you were getting kind of bored of knowing that your worst idea would still allow you to keep your rank.

Then all the sudden a new student joins the Academy

It didn't bother you much until you started seeing a drop in your scores and ranking thus creating a rivalry with this mysterious student.

It was not until you and Viktor shared a class that you realized who your academic opponent was

Thus starting a new chapter of your academic career with renewed passion upon knowing there was finally someone that could equal you in skill.

Fighting for everything within the academic realm that was available

Now neither of you had ever officially been introduced or carried a proper conversation instead replacing regular communication with pointed looks of smugness or confidence.

You would have angry fits in private realizing the margin that you had lost to Viktor

Long days and nights spent gaining a potential advantage over your rival.

Your friends would point out how you would almost pop a vein just describing the way that he would "usurp the first place on an exam all because of a technicality"

Honestly when you would get really into it you were sure that you hated this guy: coming out of nowhere with no prior history and just takes over everything you have worked hard to establish.

Who does he think he is????

Now all your professors, namely Himerdinger paid close attention to this rivalry. It's entertaining watching your top 2 students hash it out and creating things they would not have without this push.

Himerdinger seeing how honed in your other skills were decided to create a project for the class specifically targeting you both.

A partnered project

One that could not change neither the topic, the partner or the day that it was to be presented; everything set in stone.

" Learning the skills needed in a lab is one thing but the most important and impactful discoveries have always been those created through teamwork." Himerdinger would share one fateful day as he put up the paper listing the groups.

It did not even cross your mind that you would have been paired with Viktor and after looking at the poster turned around a looked at him.

Viktor was still sitting in his front row seat in the lecture room patiently waiting for the crowd to dissipate before getting up to look at the paper.

He continued to wrap up whatever notes he had taken as you step up to him.

"We are assigned partners for this project." you say very matter a factly.

Viktor looks up to you with a small smile," Well then, we should set up times to work on the project together. What times work best for you?"

You were taken aback by his nonchalance.

Did he really not care that he was partnered with you? Did he not see you as significant enough to mention the obvious tension? Did he not even see you as a rival but a regular student below him???

After a short pause you share what time you are normally at the library.

As you share the details he finished packing up his stuff.

Looking back up to with another slightly bigger smile (what is his game???) " I'll see you then. Tomorrow at table four."

With that he leans on his cane and leaves you in the quiet empty classroom to deliberate your next moves.

That night you started working on the project creating multiple schemes, ideas, and conceptual ideas that could be used for the project put forth.

You went to bed hoping to finally force him to recognize you as the rival that you were as he seemed so dismissive before.

You showed up to the library at the arranged time to see Viktor sitting peacefully at a study table thumbing through multiple volumes seemingly looking for a specific piece of information.

"Good Morning." you started as you walked up to him.

Without even looking up he returns the same early day greeting and places yet another volume aside and opening a new one.

Raising an eyebrow that the attitude you place your things on the other side of the table.

"I was thinking last night about this project and had written down some ideas that I believe that we should pick from as our approach." you open the discussion with no changed behavior from your supposed teammate.

You continue, " I have already taken the liberty to research them, for your convenience, and have supplied preliminary data for each one. Honestly any of these would resolve the problem raised by our projects prompt with their main difference being how creative you wanted to get with it."

Viktor has created yet another pile of abandoned books that didn't meet his mysterious criteria all the while not regarding you properly.

Your felt your self becoming more warmer as you felt the irritation pool into the oil pit of anger you have created surrounding him.

"It's considered polite to respond or at the very least acknowledge when someone is talking to you. Or are you so focused on your book hunt you aren't ever looking at the person you are supposed to be completing this project with."

Viktor sighs putting the book currently in his possession down and looks up to you.

"It was not my intention to be rude I am just looking for a specific volume that has a unique perspective on the concept we learned a week ago but the title is slipping my mind."

Sighing you sit down and observe the collection of books created on the table.

"I'm going to go on a limb here and assume that you only really remember that the color of the book was dark blue?"

Viktor chuckled," Observant and yes I am."

"Well you aren't going to find it in the library considering there is only one copy of it. That author's take was considered almost heretic."

"Ah, so you are familiar with the book I am referencing?"

"It would be strange if I didn't considering that I brought it with me to our meeting. I checked it out a week ago because it piqued my interest and also happened to align with this assignment."

You hold it out over the table as Viktor sighs again running a hand through his hair.

The meeting ended up going on for longer than expected.

You were surprised to find that he has a similar perspective to yours and understood your vision from the multiple proposals that you had created.

Further analysis showed some minor flaws that would otherwise be overlooked by other people; but neither of you too were not going to settle for anything less than perfection.

The more that the two of you poured over ideas, equations, concepts, and plans until you came up with a path that pleased you both with only one variable that needing some testing.

Viktor offered to go his smaller private study that he had already set up a similar experiment (he was also trying ideas out the night before)

Walking side by side down the hallways was a strange feeling.

Not because you were walking slower that your default rushed walking pace but because this person that you had, honestly, really hated and rationalized that was cheating somehow....wasn't.

You hated to admit it as you continued to listen to his rambling on of the missing component that they needed to figure out.

(Shit...he is actually just naturally brilliant)

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part 1 | part 2 >

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

In honor of @littlepaws9's birthday, we will pretend the break-up never happened... this is very short and hopefully as fluffy as you like your BuckTommy ;)

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"I wanna take you out tomorrow," Buck breathes into Tommy's ear, half-hidden from the bedsheet. 

The answer is a mere grunt, he takes it as approval.

"It's a nice restaurant," he continues to chatter, "a bit outside of town, not so fancy, pretty cozy, I think you'll like it."

Squinting, Tommy questions his pillow with a muffled, "Tomorrow’s New Year’s?"

"I've made the reservation a couple of months ago."

This confession seems to crack Tommy’s eyes finally open. He’s still wearing this adorable scrunched-up sleeping face, but Buck can tell something is working behind his brow. A couple of months ago, they almost broke up over a stupid argument, preceded by an evening at Miceli's. It was easy to guess that Buck – after their very hot reconciliation – had made a kind of vow for the future: never to go to that restaurant again, and to never leave anything to chance. 

"Fine, but why are you telling me this at..." Tommy lifts his head briefly to look at the alarm clock on his nightstand, "six in the morning?"

"I've got a shift. And you live closer to Harbor than to the 118."

"Huh?"

"One of us has to get up early, sleepyhead," Buck says with a laugh, pressing a kiss on the fuzzy head sticking out of the sheets.

The restaurant really proved to be beautiful, far from all the chrome and glass that modern places in L.A. considered aesthetically pleasing. This special day seems to call for wine, so they settle for red. At the tables around them, only couples are to be seen. Buck finds Tommy to be unusually taciturn, and he starts to wonder why. 

"You tired?" he asks, causing Tommy to look up in surprise from the salad he’s been pushing back and forth with his fork. "We can always have dessert at home, if you want."

He winks, and Tommy scrunches his face in his pretty little smile.

"I'd like that," he returns. "But that's not it."

Putting a hand on Buck’s, he softly explains, "New Year’s Eve is always so… charged. Everybody’s making vows and resolutions, and it’s become some kind of couple event, almost worse than Valentine’s." With a nod, he gestures to the guests around them.

"Too corny?" Buck offers. 

"Hm, too many expectations," Tommy cautiously replies. "And... Sometimes you don't know how to fulfill them."

"Expectations," Buck echoes, pondering whatever this might mean. "Look, all I'm expecting is for you to sit there, enjoy your free meal and look at your handsome boyfriend."

"Oh, I can do that," Tommy says with a smirk, raising his glass. 

"Totally cool if this isn't your holiday," Buck continues, a little more serious now. "Just wanna be with you, like... every day, you know?"

Tommy tilts his head and seems about to reply, but Buck quickly interrupts him.

"Don't freak out, because yeah, I do admit I'm a fan of holidays, any kind of them. And I… I brought you something. You can find that kitschy, be my guest to hide under the table, and I expect nothing in return, but…"

Suddenly, there’s a small box in his hand, and Tommy’s features slip.

"Evan," he breathes, a trail of disbelief in his voice. "We agreed on no presents."

"I said don't freak out! That was Christmas, by the way. And it’s not what it looks like." 

With a sheepish smile, he opens the box. Inside lie two very discreet, very pretty silver ear studs in the shape of the letter E. 

"Remember when I once asked you about your pierced ears? You said you got them in your youth but didn’t dare wearing any earrings because of your career choices. And, w…well. You're no longer in the closet. And I know that I'm not the reason for it, but... I'm the reason you admitted it to some of your old friends, and those are my friends too, and that's kind of a big deal somehow. I’m sorry."

"What are you sorry for?"

"It's embarrassing, especially after you’ve made it clear Christmas and New Year’s aren’t your … favorites."

"Well," Tommy stretches, reaching for one of his pockets, pulling out quite a similar little box. 

"They’re not," he admits. "There’s a reason I like to volunteer for shifts on those days. Until… well, until you, Evan. I know I kinda chickened out of Christmas, just didn’t feel right to be with your family. You were so understanding, I felt bad. And it was obvious you had something planned for today. It’s adorable when you try to keep a secret. This wasn't exactly what I was expecting... well, that's a conversation for another day. And even if I don't particularly like the day, that doesn't change my affection for you, Evan. I've spent the last few days thinking about how I could show it to you. Pondering what you would like. And, uh... great minds think alike, I guess?"

He flicks open the box to reveal a set of small, silver ear studs. They look like tiny T’s. 

"Cheesy, isn't it?" he says with a broad grin that can hardly hide the fact he’s about to burst out laughing.

"Pretty much," Evan laughs before blurting out, "I don't even have pierced ears, babe."

"I know a good tattoo artist."

"Oh, me too. You know what? We'll go there together. Ear piercings for me and a new tattoo for both of us."

"Bold, Evan. You better not get my name engraved, who knows if you’ll still want me next year?"

"Don't worry," Buck replies with a smile. "You're a keep, no doubt about that."

[love-and-war-on-cybertron]

Are your requests open? Could I ask for Optimus dating a human for the first time? SFW and/or N$FW is ok ♥️

Since you didn't specify, I'm going for a vaguely G1/Prime vibe. Forgive errors, i typed this on my phone since I'm visiting fam for holidays.

He was pretty slick about it, asking you to accompany him on a scouting mission. Prime doesn't scout. But all you thought was how nice it would be to spend some time with the big boss himself. After all, you both had confessed attraction to each other. With him admitting an odd interest in you, and you letting it slip he was rather nice to look at. Even if nothing came out of it, it was nice to clear the air. And the fact he didn't avoid you after meant more than you could say. He was still nice to look at.

The sound of his engine and the radio mixed with your humming. You didn't know the lyrics, but the tune was close enough. Sitting in the passenger seat while his holoform occupied the driver's. It still felt odd to talk to it... him, through it, so you stared out the window when you did.

"What are we on the lookout for?" You ask, glancing at mountains in the distance. He was quiet. Longer than any leader-like contemplation you were used to. "Prime?"

His voice interrupts the music, "I have not been entirely honest with you y/n." He sounds remorseful, and you feel a clench in your heart, "we are not here to scout, nor are we here for any sort of mission."

You fidget with the edge of the seat. What could have Prime lying and feeling so bad about it?

"After our conversation the other day, i did some thinking-"

Oh shit. Did you make him uncomfortable?

"-I believe it best to-"

"Prime, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so forward. It just slipped out." You interrupt, trying to smooth over whatever wrinkles you caused.

"Please allow me to finish." He says with that stern but patient tone. The engine shifts, and he pulls onto a side road, "I wish to apologize for not acting sooner, I simply wished to ensure I moved forward properly. I believe the next step on earth is a date to explore our mutual interests?"

A what?

He continued talking about the research he did and how it was similar to cybertronian customs, but it seemed to move faster in comparison. You listened, still processing what this meant.

"Wait... so..." You put a hand to your face as you focus, "this isn't a scouting mission. It's a date?"

"Correct." Prime affirms He turns off again to another side road. This one flanked by trees that get more and more dense, "I apologize for the deception, and for the lack of activity. It's hard to find such things to accommodate our coupling."

His choice of the word coupling made you chuckle, and cheeks go warm, "N-no Prime this... is pretty clever, actually." Glancing at the driver seat, you make a face, "but for the love of god, please get rid of that thing."

You can feel the rumble of laughter in his engine before it flickers and dissipates.

Prime is the kind of bot to really want to get to know you. And you love the idea of one on one time with him. A long drive in solitude is the best way to get to know each other. Open up about some things. Share hopes and what you would want from such a strange relationship.

The nerves subsided quickly. It felt natural. it felt good to talk to him. It felt like he listened and was honest when he spoke.

He stops for you to grab some food, seeing as you both got lost in the conversation and were out far longer than expected. Optimus apologized for not thinking of that even after all the research.

You lean against the window, smiling at the stars. He's telling you a story about how he once woke from recharge to find energon stacked in front of his door. The deep voice lulling you to sleep. It felt appropriate for him to take the long way back.

N$fw vauge at most.

Perhaps this date turned into another. And another. A date here and there. He thought it cute when you kissed his dash before getting out of the cab. NO, you absolutely would not kiss the holoform, but caved when he would use it to hold your hand as you got out of the cab. Only on the cheek, of course.

You would call Prime a gentleman, but there was no missing the way his engine sounds like it stalls when you sit in the passenger seat; asking if this date was when you should invite him inside. His voice sputters about more research and compatibility.

"Shame, you don't have a bed in the back prime." You say while one hand runs down your body, "could really put it to use now."

You notice the way he speeds up as you continue touching yourself, engine thundering down the road. Hopefully, there aren't any state troopers.

There is a shyness to your actions, hoping he doesn't dislike this. Not to mention how odd it is to perform with no audience. Not that you want the holoform now. It would kill the mood more than anything. He can sense your body heating up, and each time you trip over your words, trying to be sexy, his engine purrs. Slowly unbuttoning your top has him wishing he could transform and feel you with more than the sensors in his cab.

"You're beautiful." He says as you shimmy out of your pants. The human form was alien , yet familiar. Soft forms on a Cybertronian like frame. "Beautiful..." he says as you part your thighs and lips. "Beautiful." He whispers when you bring yourself to the edge. That deep voice confessed how he had thought about this. How you would look. What he wants to try. Promising it to be his hand, somehow, to bring you here next time.

But first he needs to look into a new altform. Somthing with a bed in the back.

[theemporium]

hiiiii cece… for a stocking stuffer i would like to perhaps request building gingerbread houses with Oscar (:

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

“This feels mathematical.” 

“It’s supposed to be fun.” 

“Then why do you have a ruler?” 

“Because I need to make sure the edges are straight.” 

“Right,” Oscar said, sounding the least bit convinced as he watched you fuss over the massive gingerbread slabs. “Because that is a very normal thing to do for a fun activity.” 

“You’re sounding awfully judgemental for someone who said they had never built a gingerbread house before,” you murmured, a crease forming between your brows that he had the strongest urge to smooth his thumb over. 

“I didn’t realise I needed a degree for it,” Oscar deadpanned, but his lips twitched upwards when your head snapped up to glare at him. “Ouch, tough crowd.” 

“I hope your gingerbread collapses,” you grumbled with a small huff, but let yourself be pulled towards his side as he wound an arm around your shoulders.

“You don’t mean that,” Oscar murmured, his lips brushing against your temple before he pressed a placating kiss to the side of your head. “You would be upset if my gingerbread family had no home.” 

“It would be their fault for leaving their house in the hands of a builder who mocks a ruler,” you retorted, your lips twitching when Oscar let out a laugh. 

“No, you would help me,” he said confidently. 

And he wasn’t wrong. You would help him. To be completely honest, you went into this with the expectation that you would have to help salvage whatever mess he made whilst he nibbled on the sweets you had off to the side to decorate the houses. 

“Not anymore,” you lied, rolling your eyes when he placed another—and longer—kiss on your cheek this time. “Okay, okay, Piastri, you’re wearing me down.” 

Oscar grinned. “I’ll give you half my jelly tots for your help.” 

“Just some jelly tots?” You teased, eyebrows raised as Oscar reached for one of the tubes of icing. 

“You got some other demands, baby?” Oscar asked, his eyes dropping to your lips for a short moment.

“I think…” You paused, leaning a little closer. Just enough to hear Oscar’s breath hitch a little. “You can do better than that.” 

His eyes widened as you pulled away suddenly, taking the icing with you. “Woah—hey!” 

“Thought you were meant to be fast,” you taunted, giggling when he lightly poked at your side. “You snooze, you lose, baby.” 

“I see how it is,” Oscar mused, reaching for your ruler before you could grab it back. “You’re on, baby, you’re on.” 

You snorted. “Hm, sexy and competitive. Just how I like my gingerbread building contests.”

“Laugh all you want but I am taking my jolly tots back.” 

“Hey, we had a deal!” 

“You snooze, you lose, baby!”

.

[itsa-me-lily]

So here's y'alls first fight! Aren't you excited? Also I get to introduce y'all to one of my favorite girls.

Here is the Simon x Thimble playlist

Here is the MPS AU masterlist

Reminder, reader is fat. It's not a morally right or wrong thing, she's just fat.

Content warning;

Swearing, some weight stuff, Goggles

You woke up in bed, which typically wasn't a strange thing to do. But you hadn't gone to sleep in bed this time though. You'd crashed out on the couch after trying to read a book your mother had recommended, it was always obvious that the two of you had very different tastes in literature. So the fact that you had fallen asleep on the couch, but woke up in bed, was perplexing. Hopefully you weren't developing a habit of sleep walking. Sleep arguing was bad enough.

Padding out to the living room, you were prepared to look for clues to your mystery. Only you found Simon. On the couch. Reading the book that had put you to sleep. And judging by how much further into the book he had made it, he was enjoying it more than you had. He didn't even notice your presence until you were right in front of him. You even had to clear your throat for him to peer at you from over the pages.

"Was I still on the couch when you got home?"

"Yeah."

Ever the well of conversation your husband was.

"Did I sleep walk?"

"Negative."

Well that was not an answer you were expecting.

"Then how did I go from..."

You motioned between the couch and the bedroom door, as if the space was vast and truly impossible to have crossed other wise.

"Carried you."

"What?"

You didn't mean to sound flat in your question, but the idea that you had been carried around, regardless of if you were awake or not, wasn't one you liked. Not that Simon seemed to understand that, given how he raised a single eyebrow at how unenthused you sounded.

"That a problem?"

How could you answer this in a way that wasn't going to cause an issue. Because you could see this becoming an issue that would be annoying to have to deal with. Unfortunately the longer it took you to answer, the more likely it would be.

"No? Just wake me up next time."

Simon didn't seem satisfied with the answer given how he closed the book with a snap, giving you his undivided attention.

"You'd rather I wake you up."

You think he meant it as a question, even if he didn't say it that way.

"Yeah. Don't pick me up."

You could feel that curl of anxiety start in your gut, and it only got worse as Simon got up, his height causing you to have to crane your head back to look up at him.

"You hate getting woken up."

"Yeah well I don't like being picked up more."

"How come?"

Was this man serious? Was he honestly going to question you about why you didn't like something? Really you wanted to argue, tell him that it was none of his business and that you had made your request clear. But you remembered your mother's words that she had dispensed the last time you had complained to her about Simon, and his...lack of sharing at times. 'You don't get what you don't give'. Maybe you should stop complaining to your mother. Still, wouldn't hurt right? So with a sigh you just shrugged, meeting Simon's eyes once before looking aside.

"I'm heavy."

You had accepted what your body looked like ages ago. Understood that there were more important things than fitting into a certain size. Didn't mean you weren't aware of your body, the space you took up. You knew your body, and you knew you were heavy.

Instead of asking, or elaborating, Simon Riley did probably the worst thing he could have done. He picked you up. His arms were around your waist and your feet were off the floor before you register what he was doing. The second you did though it was like every nerve ending in your body was screaming no. You did not like this. You went tense, shoulders up to your ears and volume control wasn't your first concern as you practically shouted into Simon's face.

"Put me down. Put me down right now damnit!"

Whatever reaction Simon thought he was going to get from you, that hadn't seem to be one he was expecting. He did so, though the landing was a little jarring, most likely due to the sheer suddenness of your demands. It only served to make you angrier, you could feel it shooting up your spine. You could have been gentler as you pushed yourself out of his arms, but you didn't particularly care to be at the moment.

You didn't know if it was better or worse that he didn't say anything in his defense. Actually it was probably better that he was silent because it made it easier to cuss him out as you went back to the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind you. Fuck the sleeping arrangements. He could sleep on the fucking couch that night.

Simon had heard other soldiers complain when they had marital disputes. He didn't always listen in, but when he did he could typically agree that it was somehow the soldier's fault. Now that he was on the other end of it though? He didn't get it at all. He had only been trying to show you that it wasn't an issue for him to pick you up. He went to the gym, he could lift. But then you got all huffy and loud, and slammed the door in his face. You had even made him sleep on the couch.

And it wasn't like it had gotten better the next day. Apparently you had still been mad because you hadn't talked to him at breakfast, just gone through your usual routine and left without a goodbye. All he did was pick you up. It wasn't even like he dropped you or anything.

The puzzle left him feeling sour, though he couldn't really pinpoint what it was about it that made him feel such. Was it the cold shoulder you gave him? Maybe it was the fact you made him sleep on the couch. Either way he didn't like the fact that apparently you were still mad at him and it apparently was obvious to anyone given how Soap pestered him all morning about it until Simon finally spilled during PT in the weight room. It did make him feel better though, that Soap was equally as confused as to why you were so upset.

"I mean I don't get why the hen's mad, but have ye tried apologizing LT?"

"I would if I knew what I was apologizing for."

"Wow you're both fucking stupid."

The new voice caused both him and Johnny to whip around, hackles raised at being caught unaware. Some woman racked her weights, brushing her hands together before paying them attention again, expression such that seemed to beg what they were waiting for. Thankfully Soap bit the bullet before Simon could rudely do it.

"You are?"

"Goggles. Mechanical Engineer Unit."

She held her hand out for a greeting as if she hadn't just insulted the both of them. Simon only stared at it before crossing his arms over his chest, puffing himself up a little to sooth his ego. Again Soap stepped in since he was probably going to be the more civil of the two.

"What makes ye think we're stupid?"

"Oh it's not a thought." There was a brief pause afterwards, intentional, before she continued, "Anyways big guy here clearly wasn't listening to this Thimble person."

Big guy? Since when had Simon become 'big guy'. Clearly his reputation for being a hardass was suffering since his marriage to you. He was going to have to fix that. And what did she mean that he 'clearly wasn't listening'. He listened to you fine. He slept on the couch didn't he? Simon tuned back in at Soap's sputtering, confused as to why the Scotsman's cheeks were a little flushed. He clearly had missed something.

Clearing his throat, Simon got everyone's attention again and he could give Goggles a firm stare down. Not that it helped much given how nonchalant she appeared. He had a point to make.

"I listen to my wife just fine."

"Clearly not since you did the thing she didn't like, right after she told you she didn't like it."

Simon did not enjoy the tone she was using with him. In his affront it took him a second for the words to really sink in. Sure he had kind of disregarded what you had said, but it was just to show you it was okay.

"I can pick up my wife just fine."

The sigh Goggles gave him sounded like it came from the depths of her soul, and he couldn't quite get what she had mumbled under her breath, but Simon could imagine it wasn't flattering. He was just pointing out the truth.

"And that's why you're stupid."

"No I'm not."

The look Goggles gave him begged to differ. He was going to have to find out her rank and CO, he was not going to tolerate this kind of flack from someone ranked under him.

"You made it about you and your ego."

"No I didn't."

"Why'd you pick her up then."

"To show I could."

"But she didn't want you to. She told you that, and you did it anyways."

"Cause she said she was too heavy and I was proving she ain't."

"It doesn't matter. You still ignored what she said and steamrolled over the boundary she set."

That...might have caught Simon off guard. Just a little. Goggles seemed to have taken his lack of rebuttal as an acceptance of the point she was trying to make because she continued.

"Look I don't think you were trying to be an asshole but you still were. What if she ignored you when you said you didn't like something."

Simon wanted to argue that you basically always did what you wanted, his opinion be damned but...that wasn't really true was it? You didn't make a fuss about the face masks, you were always careful to not just go grabbing at him, and even if it was with dramatics, you respected his space. At least he hadn't seen you attempt to get a pin board into his home office. He couldn't really remember him ever having to tell you that he needed or wanted those things. You just...seemed to pick up on it. And when you had told him something you didn't like he ignored it. Not maliciously but...roads to hell and good intentions as they said.

It was his turn to sigh, in defeat, shoulders slumping as he accepted the fact that he had messed up. Without much fanfare he turned to leave the gym, firmly ignoring Soap's confused shouts to wait and Goggles' 'you're welcome' that floated to him. He had an apology to give.

Simon didn't know how to give an apology. Sure he had heard that the usual was chocolates and a bouquet of roses, but that was typically for someone you were in a relationship with. What did one get their technical wife but really more a roommate person as a way to say 'I'm sorry'? He could go with chocolates, but he knew that you tried not to over indulge in them since it messed with your sugar levels, and roses seemed to romantic. He stood in the card aisle at the shops looking at the wide selection without really liking any of them. They were either too sappy or too impersonal, or just stupid.

With a rising sense of frustration Simon grabbed the first apology card that had caught his eye and made his way over to the hot food section. Fuck it, you were saying you wanted a bird the other night. Chicken could be a decent apology gift.

When you got home, you weren't as angry as you had been when starting the day. Honestly you kind of felt stupid. Most girls seemed to kill to have a man that could pick them up willynilly, you were just...an outlier. When you had asked a coworker for advice she had told you you were being dramatic and that if you weren't going to appreciate Simon she would. You didn't think Simon was into the geriatric type but you had told her you'd pass along the message at least. So apparently you were a dramatic outlier that needed to apologize. Great.

It seemed that Simon had gotten home before you, and wasn't expecting you back so soon given how he froze up at the kitchen table, shoulders hunched as he had his back to you. Might as well get it over with.

"Hey Simon I-"

"Wait."

You weren't expecting Simon to interrupt you while you were trying to say I'm sorry, neither were you expecting him to turn around and step away, revealing an entire rotisserie chicken and a card.

"You got chicken?"

"As a sorry."

"A sorry?"

You looked from the chicken to Simon, who somehow looked both stoic and sheepish at the same time. It was probably how he stuffed his hands into his pockets, like he didn't know what to do with them.

"Yeah. 'm sorry. Shouldn't have ignored what you told me."

Oh. That was...unexpected. You had anticipated having to apologize and pretend like the entire situation hadn't happened. You didn't think he'd apologize first, or at all. You both stood in awkward silence as you tried to think of what to do next. Should you still apologize? Just accept it and still pretend nothing happened?

Before your brain could make a choice, your stomach did it for you, grumbling loudly as the scent of the cooked meat wafted to you. You could feel yourself flush as Simon huffed in what was probably amusement, turning to grab what you were hoping were plates. There was a chicken to eat after all.

"Thanks. And...I'm sorry too. For just yelling at you...and making you sleep on the couch."

Simon seemed to shrug off your apology, handing you two plates and sets of silverware before digging around in the freezer for some sort of steam bag to throw into the microwave.

"I've slept in worse places."

"Still we have an agreement."

"Hn."

You figured that was the end of your rivetingly awkward conversation as you worked on carving the bird into portions to eat and then store away. You didn't mind the silence as the two of you set up dinner together and started to dig in, though it did catch you off guard when Simon decided to have a different one.

"Is it okay for emergencies?"

You looked up from phone, blinking owlishly as you tried to understand what he was saying.

"Is what okay?"

"Picking you up? It's okay during emergencies ya?"

Was Simon planning on burning down your house anytime soon? Before you could question him on it though, an idea struck you. He was trying to ask what the boundary was, so he wouldn't break it again. You tried to ignore the warmth that bloomed in your chest.

"Yeah, it's okay for emergencies."

"Good."

You nodded, going back to your phone to wonder why the hell your friend still hadn't responded to your messages.

"And Thimble?"

Once again you looked up at Simon to see him looking back at you seriously.

"Yeah?"

"You're not too heavy."

You wanted to argue differently, but before you could he cut you off.

"Not for me at least."

You had to look away, feeling a blush climb your cheeks.

"Thanks Simon."

"Hn."

Edit;

Why wasn't Soap really talking in the gym scene? Because I imagine Goggles said something kind of out of pocket that left him reeling for a minute. She is no better than a man some days and I love her for it.

Also this isn't my favorite piece but I wanted to introduce Goggles with her calling the boys out for being dumb, because that is just so her.

As always I hope you enjoyed it and feel free to drop an ask about anything.

[ladiesandwitches]

It had taken a great deal of manoeuvring to get Vivienne out of the hospital, and even more to get her out of the city. Over the years of working with Mulder, and knowing him personally, she still could not understand just how he managed to swing so many favours or help in dire situations, all seemingly at the drop of a hat. Or a quick phone call.

While Scully had dealt with the girl's condition, which had been rapidly declining, Mulder had organised everything else, every piece coming together with a seamlessness that only her partner could ever manage. Whoever it was that Mulder called, the strings he pulled, there was a fluidity that Scully had only come to expect from the best emergency staff.

"Mulder, who did you call?" Scully asked as she watched Vivienne lifted into the helicopter, unconscious but her condition now stable after crashing suddenly. Whatever the girl had been through, it was far more than the injuries listed on her medical chart, and had likely been going on for much longer.

"Just a friend," Mulder assured her, wearing that look of his she had gotten so used to.

"Should I be worried you have secret friends in such high places?"

Mulder used the noise of the helicopter to pretend he didn't hear, holding up his hands in a over-the-top display of helplessness. Scully rolled her eyes in reply before settling in for the journey.

Once Vivienne was safely set up in Mulder's old family home in Quonochontaug, Scully had checked her vitals, and only when satisfied with all her reads did she allow herself a rest in the next room, Mulder joining her shortly after. She didn't remember much else beyond that, falling asleep quickly, but her dreams filled her mind vividly. William. She could see him, a teenager, worried and alone, on the run. She tried to reach out to him, but a part of her realised this was a dream. Someone else was with him, watching him too. But then they both turned around and saw Scully, surprise on their faces.

"William!" Her cry woke her up, but turning to look at Mulder beside her, she saw he still slept on. "I guess it's alright for some..." She muttered before slipping out of the room to check on Vivienne.

"You're awake," she said quietly when she saw the girl blinking back at her, a little confused, but otherwise okay. "How are you feeling?"

all of those questions, the eagerness, the desire to know the truth, just the vibe mulder was giving, it was her cup of tea. the positive crazy people. " gee you really are the curious one, huh.. " as much as she would like to just answer every single one of his question, her ability to think clearly was now clouded. even though she heard everything, she felt dizzy and confused. apparently scully noticed that and pointed it out to him.

mulder's questions were a great distraction. vivi could redirect her energy into putting the words together in a sentence that made sense and not worry about how much the brief touch of that demon made her condition worse.

" i trusted you with my magic and.. and i trust that you can take me out of here.. isn't that letting you help ? " turning her head she looked at mulder. there was so much more she wanted to say, to explain why she gave them all the trust she was able to, at that time. " i'll carry all the rest of the weight on my own. "

as much as it could seem she didn't believe in their abilities or them being capable of handling the situation, vivi was just worried. worried that she's dragged two innocent people into trouble, worried that the demons could attack them, that could've been mulder in the bed with burned neck and boiling fever, worried about everything, all the time.

she was a demon magnet, like every halliwell. every demon knew that last name. the agents didn't know that yet, they didn't have a regular witch with them, but someone much more powerful. when, and if, she decides to tell them where she came from, her family, her time, the laws of the grand design, all the journey that had led her to this moment, hopefully they'd be more understanding why she guarded the secret so well. that she can't let them take some of that weight that she carries every day.

when scully moved to make the injection, vivi didn't protest, didn't argue like with the nurse a few moments before. actually, she didn't react at all. only accepted the fact.

the return of the nurse made her open her eyes in reaction to the third voice in the room. " everything is in here, doctor scully. medicines, dosages and time. " the nurse nodded at the chart in the file. it was thick with the x rays of the broken bones and head mri. the list of meds was also quite long. " yes, the results showed significant deficiency in iron levels on the first test in the hospital. later tests only confirmed that. it seems to be going on for a prolonged period of time. "

listening to their exchange she caught some main points, mainly because they repeated the word anaemia a few times. " anaemia ? " seemed like she still had a bit of energy left. " it's just some iron deficiency.. "

the nurse frowned listening to her. she probably thought vivi was starting to mumble due to her injuries and fever, so she chose to answer to scully rather than discuss with vivi. " she didn't lose that much blood actually. " she shook her head. " ... however " her gaze moved to vivi, followed by a sigh. it carried the tone that vivi despised most and was easy to mask as compassion. it was pity.

" she came in with a stab wound. on the back, left side, below the damaged ribs.. but it had to happen before the accident, because the wound was stitched when she came here. sloppily, but still. it bled heavily and the stitches were broken, the surgeon had to put on new ones and stop the bleeding. " the nurse said and all that vivi caught from the story was the word sloppily.

yeah, sloppily. if vivi could roll her eyes more obviously, she would, but instead she settled on closing them to just listen. she wondered how would the nurse stitch the wound on her own back, working in the mirror.

this was just one of many things, many secrets that her body was holding. when scully finally gets to examine the girl properly, away from this crazy hospital and without a rush, she could see some unusual wounds and scars, each one telling a different story.

scully's voice brought her back, eyes half opened to look at her. " i don't need anaemia treatment. " she breathed out, gaze following scully's movements when she was switching the IV bags. " i'm vegetarian, i live on crackers.. can't really sleep.. does that fit the diagnosis ? " she asked, openly trivializing the situation. " it's just a deficiency.. and you're not scaring me with those dire impacts on my body.. they're long term, i don't care. "

that last thing scully said, it was a question, right ? a second or two passed before vivi found the right answer. " i'm B negative. "

whatever scully needed to do to her, vivi allowed it. more injections ? she didn't even ask. at one point she closed her eyes, drifting away and not focusing on the conversation in the room.

" huh ? " do you fly, the question was, do you fly. " no. " that man had a talent of making vivi smile with his questions in the least appropriate moments. " some can, but i can't. " sorry to disappoint you, mulder. " but i do make massive booms.. what do you think exploded down there in the hospital ? it was a tiny one. "

the light mood moment was quickly gone when scully looked at her. here she was hoping that the woman would forget that vivi mentioned anything about her family. " no. "

as much as talkative she was on other topics, happily discussed magic, the topic of her own family was quickly closed.

" can we leave now ? " that was the best news of today, finally leaving this hospital. even though she was in much worse condition than she expected to be, but luckily out now and hopefully safe.

safety from the demons was one thing, her medical condition was another thing.. and getting stuck with FBI agents was something completely else. will they let her go after she gets well enough ?

" ms scully ? i'm.. everything is spinning. " vivi admitted quietly, then closed her eyes once again. she's been on and off for some time now. the monitor read 40.4c

[muirmarie]

jim being canonically the shortest one of the triumvirate is genuinely so important to me lmao, like yesssssss, let that beefy babe be shorter than both his boyfriends!!!!

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Sky having asthma, or some kind of breathing issues? For the prompt event?

Link had always known his lungs were… sensitive.

For the longest time, it had been a minimal issue. Sure, he didn’t sprint as well as others—he typically struggled with stamina anyway. But he could hold his breath longer than many, he could exercise well enough, and he still fought better than any of his classmates. Just because he had a propensity to getting respiratory illnesses didn’t mean he couldn’t handle things. It was nothing a little air potion and stamina fruit couldn’t fix.

That was the case. Before he’d gone to the Surface.

Nowadays it seemed like anything and everything could make him sick, could take out his ability to breathe. During his journey he’d compensated with air potion after air potion until his fever had climbed so high he’d passed out. Thankfully, he’d been in Faron Woods, and the kikwis, while not the most experienced on the matter, had at least thought to bring him water and nuts and let him rest in the shade until he could drag himself to the Sealed Temple.

He hated it. He felt like anything could knock him down. He kept trying to reassure himself that he’d still managed to keep up, to save Zelda, to end the war before it could restart. But he’d nearly died afterward because he’d ignored it for so long, pushed himself too hard, and everyone treated him like he was practically made of glass nowadays as a result.

Link wasn’t a particularly rebellious teenager. He was fairly lazy by his instructors’ standards, and he preferred to rest. He could cause problems when he wanted, though. He didn’t go out of his way to cause problems, of course, but… nothing was going to stop him from doing so, either.

So when he got a little too antsy to linger on Skyloft being watched by everyone, he flew his loftwing farther into the sky than he had in a long time.

The Great Sky was vast, beautiful and terrifying in its infiniteness. While the Surface’s enormous scale was overwhelming because it was all inhabitable, the Sky was more akin to a void to get lost in, a fabled sea where its depths could never be fully explored. Islands speckled the air in varying pockets, but there were enormous swathes of open air with nothing as far as the eye could see. It was said some knights died trying to explore, their loftwings tiring out and plummeting through the cloud barrier to their doom.

Link wanted to test his limits, though. Not because he felt particularly ambitious, but simply because he felt like he was going insane. He used to be content daydreaming on Skyloft, but nowadays if he stayed too still in one place he felt like he was missing something. As much as he loved to lay about, and as little energy as he had that sometimes forced him to lay about, he couldn’t sit still for long unless he was caught in a spiraling slump.

So here he was, pushing Crimson to tear into the sky farther than ever before. He recalled seeing a small pocket of islands in the far distance a little over a year ago when he’d last tried exploring like this before the knights had reeled him in. Now that he’d earned his knighthood due to his adventure, he wouldn’t be stopped.

The nagging pain in his chest was nothing to worry about. That was just nerves. He just needed to move.

The cold wind snapped around him, flushing his cheeks and biting at his nose. He clutched the leather around Crimson’s chest more tightly, glaring into the sky, and his loftwing squawked, reflecting his defiance with a loud seeming battle cry. His companion was filled with as much energy as he was, and had been scraping at the edges of Skyloft the entire day before Link had finally plummeted off its edges.

The pocket of islands grew larger. One in the center was entirely square shaped, seeming endless in its crevices and walls that inhabited its center.

A maze?

Link smiled. A puzzle. Perhaps he’d find something useful in its center. He wondered what Hylia might have left for him here. Perhaps he’d missed a goddess cube? It wasn’t like it made much of a difference now, but his curiosity was piqued nonetheless.

He flew directly overhead before jumping off his loftwing. As he crashed through the air, the pressure in his chest continued to build, but the thrill of skydiving overruled it. Link maneuvered his body left, right, rolled, flipped, and laughed. He loved this.

Eventually, just before he could hit the stone floor in the labyrinth, he deployed his sailcloth, letting himself gently land before looking around eagerly.

This was going to be fun.

XXX

It was getting dark.

Zelda looked out at the sky worriedly. Link had gone flying around noon. She’d let him be, as she was busy figuring out plans for the Surface, but she was growing worried now. Where could he be? She’d investigated all the usual local islands, and when the best lead she’d gotten was that someone had seen him fly beyond all of them, she started to wonder if he’d gone to the next community over.

Skyloft was their largest settlement, but not their only one. Still, if Link had visited Nestout, Loftwing Roost, or the Dragon Spire, he should’ve been back by now.

Well. Loftwing Roost might distract him more. But… maybe that was all it was.

When Zelda asked Groose to help her investigate to cover more air, though, it quickly became apparent that he wasn’t anywhere they knew.

“You think he went to the Surface?” Groose asked as they looked out at the vast expanse from the Dragon Spire. It was the farthest out island in the usual communities, and it boasted the most dangerous territory.

That would be the most likely explanation, Zelda supposed. But Link didn’t usually go down there alone. “I guess…”

“Don’t worry, Zelda,” Groose assured her with an easy wave of his hand. “Airhead probably lost track of time or something. I can check Faron and the Sealed Temple, you go back to Skyloft.”

Telling Zelda not to worry about Link was the most pointless venture imaginable, but she didn’t bother correcting Groose. Instead, she nodded, watching him take off on his loftwing before looking back out at the sky.

He wouldn’t… why would he go to the Surface alone?

Zelda squinted at nothing, wondering, listening. She tried to focus, tried to remember how to use magic to track others. She’d been able to do it before, back when…

Closing her eyes, she inhaled and exhaled steadily. The world around her changed, pulsing and colorful and tasting of sensations she couldn’t even describe. Everything felt so alive. Her loftwing chirped a little, fluffing and rubbing her beak against Zelda’s face.

“You can sense it too,” she whispered, eyes still closed, feeling the connection to her partner.

Her loftwing chirped a little, feathers flattening in anticipation. Then she took off, and Zelda dove after her, and they were as one as they tore into the farther expanses of the Great Sky.

With the cloud barrier gone, daylight lasted a little longer, allowing Zelda more time to fly. But she knew she wouldn’t make it back to Skyloft before dark. She would either have to make camp somewhere or risk flying in an environment she was still not entirely trained to navigate.

Instinct drove both her and her loftwing forward, tracing Link’s presence. When they neared a squared shaped island, her loftwing circled it, indicating that this had to be their destination.

What in the world was Link doing here?

Furrowing her brow in determination and trying to ignore the gnawing worry in her gut, Zelda leapt off her bird and descended into the stony structure below. She maneuvered her body as her eyes scanned different passages from above, honing in on a feeling that chewed at her fraying nerves.

A speck. Small, still, green.

Her eyes widened. Link.

Zelda tipped herself forward, making her body more stream lined so she could move faster. She didn’t pull out her sailcloth until she was seconds away from touching down. The harsh winds helped her steady herself, and she felt breathless as she ran to her beloved friend, who was laying motionless on the floor.

“Link!” She called, falling to her knees, voice carrying on the winds. She shook him, surprised at the heat radiating off his body.

Sick. He was sick, he was sick, they were out here in the middle of nowhere and he was sick.

Despite the gales howling, she could hear distinctive whistle and rattle, ominous and horrible and far too familiar. It sounded off rhythmically with every heave of Link’s chest, and she could see how his belly moved paradoxically to his chest, trying to assist his exhausted body in every way possible to move air.

This was bad.

What was she going to do? What could she do? Link got breathing illnesses so easily, but usually an air potion, warm food, lots of rest and even more coughing would help fix it. He’d only gotten truly, desperately sick for the first time after their adventure, and that had been from infected wounds rather than anything in his lungs. Her friend was no stranger to pneumonia, but they’d never been this far from help when it had struck.

Surely with all this wind, she could figure something out. Zelda moved to sit him up, knowing that laying as he was would do him no good. She tried not think about how there was barely any light left in the sky, how they could potentially be trapped here the entire night with few supplies.

There was no way she could fly him in this state.

Gritting her teeth, Zelda braced her feet on the ground, pulling him to sit up by his tunic and dragging him to lean against the wall so he could remain that way. Link’s head lolled with the movement, and she noticed with alarm that he looked beyond exhausted. How long had he been struggling to breathe? How much longer could he last? She’d heard nightmarish scenarios in the past, when he’d gotten particularly ill, warnings of how he had to rest, how working too hard to breathe could make one’s body give up altogether, and then nothing but forced air could save them.

Zelda dug through her pouch and then Link’s, desperate for anything that she could use. She herself was carrying a stamina fruit, and Link seemed have half of one in his pack—clear evidence that he’d been nibbling on one throughout the day in an effort to keep going.

She felt frustrated and terrified at the same time. Why would he run himself down like this? Why did he always run himself down like this?!

Her gut churned uncomfortably, guilt nibbling at the edges of her mind. You know why.

She shook her head. Then she pushed against Link, tapping his cheek. “Link. Dove, wake up. Please.”

She had no air potion to spare, but if she could just get him to wake up, she could at least feed him the last of the stamina fruit he’d been carrying. Hopefully it would help. Then perhaps she could investigate this place to find somewhere more suitable for him to rest. The sky glowed crimson, and she knew it was too late to leave this place.

Link groaned, bringing her some relief, though his breathing still sounded wretched. Sluggishly, his eyes fluttered open. There was hardly any recognition in them - he was exhausted.

Zelda held the stamina fruit out in front of him, having peeled it into smaller pieces. “Eat.”

He took each piece one by one from her, chewing slowly. A flush returned to his pale face, and he stared at her for what felt like half a minute before seeming to come to himself. “Z-Zel…?”

He could hardly get her nickname out for all the rattling in his lungs. Zelda could hardly breathe just listening to it. “We need to get you out of here, Link. Get you somewhere warmer.”

Was there even anywhere warmer on this island? Was there an indoor area at all? The place looked strangely familiar, but she couldn’t place why - she’d definitely never been here before.

Oh. That meant… she knew why.

Looking around, she tried to recall something, anything of whatever memories Hylia had to show her. But try as she might, she couldn’t recall this place.

Perhaps exploring wasn’t the option right now. Perhaps they just needed to hunker down and deal with it where they were. But the more she thought about it, the more she was certain that she could find a centralized location, which would be far better shelter for Link in his state.

“You think you can glide with me?” She asked, raising her voice to be heard over the wind.

Link tried to reply and instead fell into a coughing fit. It was a wretched sound, heavy with phlegm but not able to move anywhere. He clutched his chest, grimacing a little, and nodded.

That was not reassuring. “Link. I can’t carry you, don’t lie to me if you can’t do it!”

Link swallowed, sitting up a little straighter, more energized after the stamina fruit. “I… I think I can. J-just… not for long.”

That meant she had to figure out the route first.

Zelda went to work quickly, hugging Link and whispering in his ear that she would be back. He slumped against her, letting himself rest in her arms, and it made her heart ache. She wanted to just stay and hold him, to protect him and let him find some relief in her, but she had to figure this out quickly, while there was just enough light left.

With another promise of coming back quickly, she pulled away, leaping into the air. The wind smacked against her, and she quickly pulled out her sailcloth to let it guide her around the walls of the labyrinth. She tried to go by instinct, remembering each turn, at one point rising above all of it to get an overhead view. Eventually, she found the central area, which promised some relief from the harsh winds. It wasn’t hard to retrace her path, and she quickly found Link once more.

Her beloved was asleep again, shoulders rising and falling with his breaths in an attempt to help air move as best it could. It was an ominous sign, and Zelda felt nauseous at the sight of it. She nudged him awake, gave him half of the stamina fruit she herself was carrying, and helped him stand.

Link was unnervingly shaky on his feet, but he again insisted he could handle it. She had him hold her hands to ensure his grip was tight enough to hold the sailcloth and maneuver. Although he clamped down on her hands with enough strength to prove his point, she still worried.

There wasn’t much else she could do, though. She just kept assuring herself that if he slipped, she’d dive down below the maze with him and call her loftwing. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d caught him in midair (she tried not to guiltily think of the last time that happened).

Together, the pair stood at the edge of the platform and then Zelda counted down quickly so Link wouldn’t lose what little strength the stamina fruit had given him. Her heart nearly stopped when they jumped together, eyes never leaving Link, but he managed to hold on as his sailcloth rode the winds around them. Zelda had to lead at that point, but her head felt like it was constantly swiveling to keep track of her friend while they moved through the air.

The journey back to the center felt infinitely longer this time around, but they made it nonetheless. Link’s knees completely buckled when he landed, and though he tried to wrap himself in the sailcloth Zelda had gifted him so he wouldn’t lose it in the wind, but it slipped through his slack fingers as he felt. Zelda caught it as nearly an afterthought as she rushed to help him to the ground.

She pulled Link to her, letting him sit up against her chest so he could breathe better. “Link, what were you thinking coming out here when you were sick?”

Link’s breath rattled in reply as he grew limp with exhaustion. Zelda just buried her face in his shoulder, feeling his head loll against hers.

This was going to be a long night.

Zelda prayed to Farore for help as she counted Link’s breaths. Time crawled by, agonizing in its length as Link’s entire body heaved. As the sky grew black, and the stars twinkled in their excellent fervor, her beloved’s breathing eased a little, having recovered from flying. However, he coughed often, in harsh, horrible fits that hardly moved what it should, and those left him completely depleted. Zelda would rock back and forth, taking him with her, strengthening her back so he could sit against her as tall as possible, watching his ribs become more prominent as the night progressed.

Just when it felt like this nightmare could never end, the stars started to hide behind a shroud of pale pink, and Zelda thanked all three of the ancient goddesses that they’d survived the night.

The instant she determined it was light enough, she leapt over the nearest edge and called her loftwing. When she flew over the maze, she saw Link’s crimson companion circling the area, trilling worriedly. She wondered if he’d been there the entire night - she hadn’t heard him. She probably should have looked, but she was too terrified to think straight. In either case, she whistled sharply at him.

Link’s loftwing eyed her. Zelda whistled again. No loftwing was obligated to listen to someone who wasn’t it’s bonded partner, but Zelda and Link were close enough now that their birds would occasionally tolerate commands from each other, and Link’s intelligent friend could tell he needed help. Crimson followed Zelda and Indigo as they dove towards the center. It hardly had enough space for a loftwing, but Crimson spotted Link and maneuvered easily into place, swooping in and grabbing him with frightening precision.

Zelda hoped the position wouldn’t make Link’s breathing intolerable. But they didn’t have any other option.

The pair flew back to Skyloft at breakneck speed - the other settlements didn’t have the same medical care that Skyloft did. Zelda rushed to Link when his loftwing gently placed him on the ground.

Her friend was awake, cheeks flushed, hair a mess, and he clutched his chest. Zelda slid to her knees beside him. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve had… better flights…” he huffed with a tired smirk.

Zelda wanted to punch him. “This isn’t the time for joking! What were you thinking yesterday?!”

“I… didn’t think… it was…” Link tried to argue only to have to pause to catch his breath, bracing his hands against his legs and leaning forward a little.

Zelda’s worries overrode her frustration, and she waved down the first person she saw, as many had noticed their arrival. Pipit and Groose both came running, as well as Professor Owlan. Thankfully Pipit had an air potion, and the relief on Link’s face was immediately apparent.

Zelda let the men take Link back to his room in the academy, giving them a moment before she checked on him. She found him sitting up against multiple donated pillows, two air potions at his bedside table, bundled up and in comfortable clothes. She smiled in relief, feeling her own chest steadily unclench at the sight.

She offered a quick thanks to Farore before kneeling on the floor and resting her arms and head on the bed. She was exhausted.

She felt Link’s fingers run through her hair before he settled his hand over the back of her head. “Zel…?”

Zelda reached blindly, fingers finding Link’s tunic before she jabbed his chest with her finger. “Don’t. Do that. Again.”

Link let out a sheepish huff. “Sorry, love.”

“This isn’t—your journey is over, and—Link, why—” Zelda shot yo, suddenly agitated, tears stinging in her eyes.

Link looked adequately schooled and apologetic, clearly upset that he’d worried her. “Zelda, I… I’m sorry. I just… I’m used to… to pushing through it. I don’t notice sometimes.”

Used to pushing through it. Zelda felt guilt crush her. She knew why he was used to it.

“Please rest,” Link requested softly. “I’ll be right here. I promise.”

Zelda sighed, reaching over to stroke his cheek. “Only if you rest too.”

Link nodded, offering a tired smile. Zelda wasn’t inclined to kiss him since he was sick, but she gently hugged him instead.

She still worried this would happen again, though.

[hollymacycomic]

Holly & Macy and Everyone Else

Chapter 4: Page 37

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[sanguisxferox]

It ain’t that Fior believes everything people tell him, but more that he’s an expert at using people’s own words against them when negotiating. It has often in the past put some people in an unfortunate situation as they were stuck between admitting lying to accepting they’d been outsmarted. Though, while he’s paying attention to the Lotus Eaters’ Leader, he doesn’t see himself using this conversation as ammo later on. That would be so fucking gauche. “Yes, death is part of the natural cycle of life. There’s no way around it. And just life Death takes her time to collect some, so does grief stays longer with some than others. And to each to deal with grief. Desire will always be present as long as there’s life.” Fior just doesn’t feel or barely. He’s walking through life like an empty shell. If he could feel strongly again, he might be envious of those who can feel desire. But he’s far from there. Desire is just not there anymore―locked away in a chest, forgotten at the bottom on his being.

Fior feels the sudden stiffness in the ancient naga’s body. For a moment, the Emissary waits, expecting anything―eyes fixed on Suresh. He feels some heat under his hand, but doesn’t think anything of it. There a few seconds where he eyes the hand coming up, wondering what’s happening? Whatever desire had been there flies over his head. Though, the comment makes Fior’s hand move back brusquely and that moment, it’s by far the most emotion Suresh will have ever seen on the Emissary’s face as he looks horrified. Though, to anyone who doesn't know Fior, they'd think he's slightly shocked, 'cause his face hadn't changed much. “I am so sorry, Leader Lal. That was extremely careless and impolite of me to touch you with such familiarity.” Every words from the naga after that he doesn’t hear.

"Maybe a little bit." The Naga echoed in agreement to the other. Humility was a survival tactic and tended to get him what he wanted more often when dealing with people outside of the Lotus Eaters. Suresh listened to the lionfish talk about grief and he nodded slightly. "She's just part of process. There are very few constants in the universe. Birth and grieving a loss are the only two I can currently recall. Grief is a stubborn house guest. But she drives many people into my clubs, into my orbit. Desire to feel something else, anything else. Or a desire to go back. A desire for something that was and can never be again."

Suresh smiled at the recognized word and nodded. "Close enough. Before the Aztec took over and made their alliance. But yes." The touch on his shoulder made him go still. He didn't move away but his body paused under the weight of the touch. He ran his tongue across his upper lip, the scent of the other on his shoulder. The sound of his name. He reached his hand up, hovering over the hand on his shoulder. The fainest creep of power up his shoulder, warming his own skin under Fior's hand. Suresh dropped his own hand back to his side without touching the other. Turning as he clamped down on that small hint of desire sliding through his body towards the person touching him. He cleared his throat and tried to smile at Fior, "It would be better, Fior, if you didn't touch me without asking first. I can't always predict what will happen without a warning." Gold eyes fixed on the Emissary, "Thank you though. For the touch and what you said. I am sorry for yours."

[flying-cat]

People don't want character redemption they want a revenge plot from a story that was never supposed to be about revenge

[dynamitekansai]

THE USOS REUNITE WWE SMACKDOWN (OCTOBER 25, 2024)

[raintailed]

RW art month day 1: rivulet!!!!!

What happens when you put multiple rivulets in one place? They go sneef snorf of course!

From left to right, the design owners are: me, Mimcooo, @skybristle, and @soaricarus! i think sky's and soar's designs are really pretty and i like how silly mim's design is :]

[violetscanfly]

This has probably been done before but I haven't seen it so! Today I offer you Alien Stage except wangxian👽