#word count: 1453

[mywritersmind]

MESSY - LN4

pt.2

summary : Lando will not quit in attempts to keep seeing y/n piastri. The Azerbaijan Grand Prix ends triumphantly for the piastri family, followed by a flirty dinner, and paper being thrown at her in the early morning.

OG SUMMARY (After a steamy night together, neither Y/n or Lando expected to see eachother soon. Well, when they find eachother in the paddock and come to the realization that Y/n is a Piastri and Lando is Oscar’s teammate… things get interesting.)

listen up : piastri!reader. nothing major!! mentions of sex.

word count : 1453

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I’m fucking extatic.

My mom and I came to Baku on a whim and now I'm hugging my champagne soaked brother after a pole position with my sisters on facetime.

The race was genuinely insane and my mom cried the whole time. Turns out all the F1 I watched at home is a million times better in person.

Especially when this time I can see everybody’s faces.

An hour later I'm waiting for Oscar to change while my mom is on a call. I look up when someone enters the room, he’s dark haired with huge brown eyes. “Oh- Hi.” His accent hits me and I'm star struck at my third favorite driver, Carlos Sainz.

“Hi.” I smile and look back at my phone, sort of freaking out on the inside.

He doesn’t move though, “Uh… I'm looking for Lando, have you seen him?” At the mention of the McLaren driver's name I feel my stomach twist.

“No sorry.” He nods and looks around the orange room.

“You’re not here with him?”

Here with him?

“No… I’m Oscar’s sister, Y/n.” His face makes an ‘o’ expression before shaking off and smiling.

“Shit! Your brother did well today. I’m Carlos.” I laugh a bit and am about to respond before Lando enters the room in black jeans, a mclaren shirt, and socks only. He looks at Carlos and I back and forth before raising a brow. Carlos turns to see him and says something in a hushed tone.

“Right…” Lando glances at me but rips his eyes away quickly.

“I didn’t know Piastri had a sister.” Carlos crosses his arms as I stand.

“Four, actually.” I laugh a bit, “Norris have you seen Oscar? We’ve got reservations.” I want to talk about his race but it feels wrong. P15 to P4 is pretty wild though. And sort of hot.

He basically laughs in my face, “He’s gonna be a while… No chance you’re making those reservations.”

I give him an annoyed look, “Great.”

“Don’t hate the messenger, love.” He doesn’t even flinch, but Carlos does.

He looks at Lando, horrified like he did something scandalous. As if he feels bad, he looks at me, “Look- your family can join us if you want.” Lando is the one to give him a look this time.

“So your guys’ reservations will work, but mine won’t?” I cross my arms at the men.

“You used your own name to make them?” Lando asks, I nod and as he tries to hide his smile he says, “Yeah you can come with us.”

⋆｡‧˚⋆

Oscar is confused at the invite but goes along with it. My mom decides to stay at the hotel for some work calls which makes me more nervous. I’m now alone with my brother, my hookup, Carlos’ clueless ass, Alex Albon, and Max Verstappen.

I almost cry when Alex’s girlfriend joins us. Lily and I follow eachother and have DM’d a few times but meeting in person is like me being saved.

“So, Y/n! Enjoy the race today?” Alex asks me cheerily, pouring more water into his glass with an arm around Lily.

“No race talk!” Lando and Max say in unison. I don’t really know how they do it. They race each other for two hours, are always pissy after, then just switch to being friendly so quick.

I look at Carlos who’s talking merrily with Alex, surprising considering he was a lap away from a podium before his dreams were crushed by a RedBull and a prayer.

The table we’re at is large and oddly enough, round. The restaurant is beautiful and mostly deserted except for our table. I’m next to Lily and Oscar, Lando across from me.

I’m acutely aware that he’s across from me because he hasn’t taken his eyes off me. I watch his hands move his Monza pole ring around his finger. God his hands. His hands that were all over me-

“Y/n, What are you ordering?” Lily asks which shakes me from my imagination.

After ordering we fall into comfortable conversation which eventually ends in me making fun of Oscar with photos from our childhood. “Right then! That’s enough.” Oscar eyes me when my phone swipes to a photo of Osc dressed up as a car.

“We know Oscar’s kink now.” Max jokes and I cringe, “What? They always stem from childhood!”

“So who you calling daddy then, Verstappen?” Lando doesn’t miss a beat, Max side eyes him. “No need to be ashamed, Osc.”

“Not in front of my baby sister, please.” He looks around the group who are all laughing.

“Come on, you're a year older than me!” I sigh, “You don’t know what I get up to.”

He makes a disgusted face.

“Or who.” I add simply, sipping my drink as Lando chokes on his. His face is red after Max slaps him on the back.

Oscar ends up changing the conversation around to old karting days and how I was dragged along. I eventually excuse myself to the bathroom, checking my hair and washing my hands, as I leave I run into Lando.

“Hi pretty.” He smirks as I roll my eyes.

“Would you stop staring at me? Oscar isn’t blind.”

He shrugs, “No.”

“No?”

“No. It’s kinda difficult when you look like that.” I’m going to pretend that didn't do something to me and move on.

“Nice race today. Sort of impressive.” I match his cool demeanor which he loses after my words.

“A compliment?” He grins, god his smile is ridiculous and when it’s directed at me I want to faint, “Thanks love. Wanna celebrate with me later?”

“Careful with the nickname, Norris. I’ll be celebrating with the man who actually won.”

Speaking of, Oscar joins us in the hall, his face dropping when he sees us, “Please tell me you aren’t friends already.” I stand up straighter, “I can’t have you two combine forces against me.”

This makes me laugh, “Don’t worry, Osci.” I squeeze his shoulder before stepping away.

Lando follows, “Yeah I don’t think we’re the friends type.” I eye him behind me, he just winks.

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I’m pretty sure the world is working against me. Or maybe for me?

We’ve got an extra day in Baku to spend with Oscar. I woke up early, getting hot chocolate and settling on my balcony with my book and pajamas.

I’m happy in the early light, breathing in the fresh air when I hear a whistle. My eyes are drawn down to the man running shirtless, shading his eyes from the sun while looking up at me.

“Good morning!” Lando sings, that smile already planted onto his face. He looks way too tan, sweaty, and fit for five in the morning.

“Morning.” I say back.

“Watcha reading?” I raise a brow, confused because no guy ever cares about that.

“Um. Little women.” I close the book and flash him the cover. He nods.

“I have something for you!” He reaches into his pocket and I wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out a boom box.

He pulls out a crumpled piece of paper, “Are you sending me a nude by hand?”

He laughs out loud, “No! It’s my number!” He throws it up but the wind pushes it right back down, landing at his feet.

He frowns and tries again, “You’re quite bold for a one night stand.” The paper falls again and I try not to laugh. He grabs it, looking up at me once again. I can see the blueness of his eyes even from stories up.

“Who said it was just a one night stand?” He squeezes the paper tighter. When he throws it once more, it finally lands on my balcony but Lando’s eyes jet to the balcony next to mine.

“The hell are you doing?” My brother's voice makes my eyes go wide. I had forgotten he’s right next door.

“Coming to see you, of course!” Lando opens his arms wide.

I can practically hear Oscar shaking his head, “Go away.” Lando nods and starts to jog backwards, his eyes meet mine once last time, making my breath stop short.

He smiles wider, turning around and following his route.

I shake my head, smiling to myself and opening the crinkled ball of paper. It reads his number and a small note.

Give me a chance, Y/n. You won’t regret it.

[monstertreden]

◡̈⋆🅷🅸(●’◡’●)ﾉ!! saw that requests for writing is open, so I would like to politely and gladly request this 🤍

mutual pining with optimus prime and human fem reader!! and if possible, the timeline in the bumblebee film (2018) please. optimus is confused about the blossoming feelings he has for reader and seeks help from bumblebee since he has been on earth longer and assumes he knows better haha!! bumblebee is like his wingman :3c

sorry for yapping, but this is my request please and thank you 🥹🫶🏻 have a good one!!! <33

☁︎ RAINY DAYS ☁︎

-Reader: FEM reader  -TW: none -Character: Optimus Prime (Transformers 2018 movie) -Summary: Optimus develops a quiet, protective affection for a human companion, treasuring their moments together. -Word count : 1453 -A/N: Ahhh this was so cutee!! I've tried my best, anon! :) It took me a bit to polish this one just trying to catch Optimus character better :3, hope you like it! . . . I love big robots.

The Prime stood in quiet contemplation, his optics flickering with the weight of his thoughts. Today the "Autobots base" was noiseless, except for the only sound in the room that came from a small TV. Its screen casted a faint glow, as his loyal companion, Bumblebee, zapped through various channels, each displaying what he presumed was human entertainment. The great leader of the Autobots had faced countless battles and made decisions that shaped the fate of Earth itself. Yet, now, he was confronted with a challenge that left him uncertain… his growing affection for a human.

He turned his helm towards Bumblebee, who was still tinkering with a small rectangular device, undoubtedly another human invention. The scout's dexterous servos moved with precision, his curiosity for human culture evident in every motion. That curiosity he had for humans was something else, Bumblebee had always been adept at understanding humans, particularly one individual who had become dear to the scout’s spark, a connection Optimus couldn’t quite wrap his helm around.

"Bumblebee, my dear friend." Optimus's voice rumbled inside the shed, to which the scout beeped in acknowledgement, blue optics lifting from the small device he held. For all his wisdom and experience, Optimus found the nuances of such personal connections… elusive, particularly when it came to matters involving a certain earth native. "I find myself in need of your counsel…” his voice steady but laced with an uncharacteristic hesitance. “…might I ask, how does one get acquainted with an earthling?”

Bumblebee's optics brightened with amusement. Lately, he had seen the Prime’s subtle shifts once he got closer to their human friend. To see the unshakeable pillar of their team, a leader who rarely wavered, seeking guidance on something as deeply personal as affection, from him! Knowing full well that too much teasing could get him grounded, once again, by the big boss, he suppressed a teasing comment.  

Shifting between radio stations, Bumblebee spoke "—that’s it!—might as well spend quality time with her—boss!”

The idea of approaching a human affectionately weighed heavily on Optimus. Deep down he was lost in thought, the alliance between humans and Autobots came first. However, this particular human had earned his respect, and gradually, he found himself warming up to her presence.

It was unexpected…

Ever attuned to his leader's demeanour nuances, Bumblebee softened his  veiled teasing, followed by his next suggestion “---You all go for--- a Joy Ride!---”

Racing with a pick-up truck? That would be too risky, perhaps even impractical. His alt mode was functional, built for resilience and reliability, not for speed or flashiness, neither a sports car nor a sleek vehicle.  It was a step he could take, though at his own pace.

"I thank you, dear friend" Optimus said, a note of gratitude in his voice. "Your insight is... most valuable."

.ᐟ.ᐟ

The sky had darkened, thick clouds gathering as a gentle rain began to fall. Subsequentially, the steady rhythm of the droplets intensified, each drop falling heavier than before. Amid the relentless rain, another sound broke through the downpour. It was the distinctive hum of an engine, accompanied by the sharp, glowing brilliance of the four headlights piercing through the rain. The pickup truck stood resolutely by the side of the road, its metallic frame shimmering as droplets clung to its surface.

The truck had been waiting patiently for an indeterminate time as then, through the haze of rain she appeared, huddled under a small red umbrella. Illuminated by the soft glow of a streetlamp, Optimus watched as she approached, her steps careful on the slick pavement. Once she reached his side, the door unlocked with a quiet click, inviting her inside. “Finally—” trembling, she climbed into the passenger seat, the door closing firmly behind her.

Inside, she was enveloped by the warmth of the front seats, a stark contrast to the cool rain outside. She set her umbrella aside and leaned back in the seat, with a contented sigh. "Thanks a lot for picking me up, Optimus" her voice resonated in his spark “I’m terribly sorry, I hope I didn’t make you wait too long under this damn rain! I swear, my weather said it was going to be cloudy...totally not this??”

"It is no trouble," Optimus replied, his voice a gentle rumble through the speakers. “I wouldn't want you walking in this kind of weather, you might get hurt. Never hesitate to give me a call, little one.”

Soon enough the engine started, and they drove in comfortable silence, the rain creating a soothing backdrop. Optimus found solace in these quiet moments, the presence of his human companion filling the space with an unspoken connection. He relished the opportunity to simply be near her, to share in the simplicity of the moment. This was his kind of “Joy ride”, a serene, intimate experience far removed from the high-energy adventures Bumblebee often took part in.

As they neared her home, the glow of streetlights casting soft halos on the rain-slicked road, she turned slightly, her gaze thoughtful. "You know," she began "I’ve always appreciated how you make time for me. It means a lot."

Optimus's spark swelled with an emotion that, despite his longevity and vast experience since he first came online, he was still learning to fully understand. "Your companionship brings me a sense of peace," he admitted, the sincerity in his tone unmistakable. "It is a privilege to be a part of your world."

Her hand reached out, soft fingers brushing against the dashboard in a gesture of affection. “And it's a privilege to have you in mine, truly"  she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the engine. She knew he could hear her, loud and clear, even if he didn’t respond immediately. There was a quiet understanding between them, one that was broken by his warm voice, drawing her attention.

“Would you like to hear some stories, my little friend?”

.ᐟ.ᐟ

An hour had passed, her eyelids grew heavy and she found herself lulled by the light sway of the truck. It was a rare moment of peace in a world often filled with chaos. Here, cradled in the safety of Optimus Prime, she allowed herself to drift into a peaceful slumber, trusting completely in the steadfast guardian who was carrying her home.

“---This brings many memories in my circuit” Optimus mused softly “The first steps we Autobots took on your lively, vibrant planet. It’s a bittersweet feeling, filled with nostalgia…” His words trailed off as he realized she had succumbed to sleep, her form gently resting against the cushion seat. “oh…” His words had continued longer than he intended. She had fallen asleep, her head resting against the cushioned seat.

His engine hummed quietly as he turned the corner by her house. With a slow, deliberate movement, the Prime transformed. His massive frame shifted awkwardly, yet he was careful enough to avoid any disruption.

With utmost care, his servos extended towards her,  cradling her sleeping form. She stirred slightly but did not wake, her trust in him evident in her relaxed posture. As if in the hands of someone who would never harm her.

Attentive optics caught sight of the slightly open window. Soon, Optimus approached it, parting it with a click, careful not to make a sound. The rain had all but ceased, leaving the night air cool and fresh. With ultimate precision, he laid her down on her bed, tucking the blanket around her in a gesture that felt almost human. He lingered for a moment, his optics soft, his gaze filled with a tenderness that reflected his deep sense of protectiveness. She was safe here, in the comfort of her own room, sheltered from the outside world.

He stood there for a moment, his optics soft as he gazed at her peaceful expression. "Goodnight," he whispered, his voice a deep murmur. "May the stars always guide you."

.ᐟ.ᐟ

As he quietly stepped back from the window, miraculously avoiding breaking the glass, the Prime remained near her backyard, his massive form casting a shadow over the wall of her house. The soft hum of his systems settled into a quiet vigil, ensuring her safety throughout the night. There Optimus found solace in the knowledge that, for now, as long as he was with her, she would be safe and sound. With the Autobots' base under control, he decided to linger near her home, keeping a watchful optic on her,  a silent but devoted promise of protection and care.

The faint light of the stars reflected in his optics as the night enveloped him while he transformed back into his vehicle mode.

Tomorrow would be another day.

[chilling-seavey]

Winter Warmers: Day 26 — Cock Warming & Snowed In

↳ Summary: George’s flight to Abu Dhabi gets canceled because of the weather and postponed to the following day. That just means there is an extra night to spend together.

↳ Word Count: 1453

↳ Warnings: 18+, some touchin' and grindin', cock warming (duh), mention of lube

↳ Winter Warmers Prompt List | The Way It Goes Masterlist

It was strange to be in George’s apartment all alone; you had never been there without him before. But with the last race of the season upcoming and your relationship still under wraps, it was a compromise to have to stay in Monaco at his place so he could come right back home to you after the weekend concluded. It was quite the romantic suggestion, you thought, since you hadn’t even been dating for a full year yet. But it showed he trusted you immensely and you were taking the responsibility of watching over his apartment very seriously. 

You had kissed him goodbye at the door—probably for longer than you should have with your hands clutching at his shirt and lips chasing his every time he tried to pull away—and then he had departed for the airport. Not more than an hour later, you had just gotten into his bed all alone, preparing for sleep, when you received the text from George that the airport wasn’t letting any flights out due to inclement weather. He would be coming back to his place for the night and flying out early in the morning instead. 

Selfishly, you might have been a little excited to have him back for one more night. 

It wasn’t long before he was back, leaving his packed suitcase and backpack by his bedroom door, and greeting you with a tired yet smiling hello. 

“Snowed in, huh?” you said lightly as you tossed back the blankets for him to join you in bed. 

George sighed as he stripped out of his slacks and echoed you with an affirmative, “Snowed in.”

His shirt and his slacks were draped over the chair in the corner of the room and he plugged in his phone on his bedside table before finally climbing in beside you. Before he even got properly settled, the two of you shared a quick kiss as he pulled the sheets up around himself. 

“Miss me?” asked George playfully, even though he had only been gone for an hour or two. 

You smiled sweetly at him through the darkened room, “Immensely. Although, I can’t say I’m not happy you get to stay with me an extra night.”

“The feeling is mutual.” George replied as he settled more comfortably under the sheets, “Even if I’m going to be panicked tomorrow over if I’ll be able to make it to the circuit on time.”

With the bedside lamps turned off, the two of you snuggled down under the sheets together. George held his arm out to beckon you closer and you snuggled up at his side, sliding an arm around his middle to hold him close, head on his shoulder, feeling the slight chill of his skin against yours from his brief journey in the cold. 

“You’re cold.” you stated softly, rubbing your hand up and down his arm.

George’s chuckle was low and warm and his lips pressed a lingering kiss to your temple in silent response to your statement of the obvious. 

You tilted your head back to turn your face up towards his, encouraging him to give you a proper little kiss…or two…or three. You pulled away with matching bashful smiles in the darkened bedroom and your hand slid back and forth over his abs under the bedsheets. George shivered under your caresses and dusted a kiss to your cheek, nuzzling his nose against your warm skin. 

“Mm,” you hummed contentedly, turning your face towards his to capture his lips with yours in another lingering kiss.

The silence of the apartment echoed in your ears, falling into a blissful hush as you shared lazy gentle kisses wrapped up in his bed. You had anticipated spending that night alone, getting yourself comfortable in his vastly empty king size bed, but you would never dream of turning away his unexpected presence. His existence was always a delight. Especially when he was kissing you like this…and cradling your chin in his hand as his lips locked with yours. 

Your fingers scratched over his abs absentmindedly, rising shivers in their wake and allowing you to taste the soft groan from his mouth. Your hand drifted farther down, fingertips teasing at the waistband of his underwear, distracting him with your insistent kisses as you went blindly exploring. Draped out on his back, George let you. He let you start to palm him over the front of his snug briefs, feeling how warm he was and how firm he was getting, as he kissed you breathless. 

You broke away from his lips after a moment, breathing heavily as you peppered impatient kisses along his jawline, listening to the way he was already nearly panting from your presence and your touch. His arm around your shoulders tightened, drawing you impossibly closer until your bodies were pressed together and almost entangled. His cock twitched in his boxers, nudging against your palm. You licked at his earlobe.

“Mhm,” George breathed through a small groan, his hand squeezing your hip with a simple request, “turn around.”

You didn’t need to be asked twice. You moved away from him for a moment and turned yourself around under the duvet. The once silent bedroom was filled with the rustling of sheets and the slight creak of the bed as the two of you arranged yourselves and took responsibility of taking your pants and underwear off. Once both entirely naked, George’s strong arm snaked around your waist and yanked you closer until your back was pressed against his firm chest. 

He kissed at your ear, your neck, while his hand slid down your front to play with your clit a little, just to feel you squirm and push back against him instinctively. You could feel his dick already hard and pressed up against the curve of your ass and when you wriggled your hips just a little, it could slip between your cheeks. Your breaths fell a little shallower. 

“C’mere.” George purred against your neck. He easily maneuvered you into place with your top leg bent up a little so he could reach down between your bodies and angled the tip of his cock between your folds. He slipped it back and forth a little, gathering the faint sheen of wetness that had grown from your kisses and lingering touches. 

Your breath shuddered at his teasing caresses, that familiar needy warmth pooling in your belly, feeling your pussy clench needily around nothing. George nipped at your earlobe, his breath hot on your skin and raising shivers down your neck. Your boyfriend knew just how to stir you up. 

When you pushed back on him as if to give him the silent invitation to get inside you, he whispered into your hair, “You’re not that wet yet.”

“Just go slow.” you bartered. 

Ignoring your suggestion for the need of wanting you to be comfortable, George separated from you just long enough to turn over and fetch the half-empty bottle of lube from his nightstand. You draped your hair out of your face in the meantime, ready and in position as he shuffled back up behind you. His cold fingers smeared some of the icy lube over your warm pussy, making you gasp sharply. 

“Sorry, sorry…” cooed George softly as he got himself back into place behind you. With the both of you smeared in that added lubrication, he pressed the head of his cock against your entrance with a content sigh, “There we go…”

Your fingers clutched onto the down-filled pillow you were resting on as he pushed into you slowly, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as he carefully stretched you out on his dick. You let out a tight hum, eyes fluttering shut as his lips pressed a comforting kiss to the apex of your neck and shoulder.

George’s hand moved to grab your hip to hold you in place as he pushed deeper, his fingers still slick with lube and smearing it over your skin, right where he could grab a nice greedy handful. The stretch of his cock sinking into you held a glorious ache that you would never tire of. With a tight moan through your bitten lip, you arched your back a little in your spooning position to get him deeper. The two of you, once comfortable, stayed just like that, tangled together and entirely intertwined, basking in the intimate closeness of your lover. 

“So much better than a redeye.” George exhaled against the shell of your ear, wrapping his entire arm around you as he sheathed entirely inside of your tight, warm cunt. 

“Mm,” you hummed, your body melting against his, “God, never leave me again.”

George dusted a kiss to your shoulder before replying softly, “Never.” 

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[tmbgareok]

How many times have They Might Be Giants sung the word "Istanbul?"

If you're anything like me you may have wondered at some point, how many times have They Might Be Giants sung the word "Istanbul?" Like, specifically the word itself. The word "Istanbul" shows up eleven times in the lyrics of the song "Istanbul (Not Constantinople)." According to This Might Be A Wiki as of October 12, 2024, They Might Be Giants have performed "Istanbul (Not Constantinople)" live at least 1453 times. (Coincidentally, 1453 A.D. was the year in which the fall of Constantinople took place!) 11 x 1453 = 15,983 It is probably safe to say that John Linnell and John Flansburgh have sung the word "Istanbul" no less than 15,983 times in their combined lifetimes...and that's not even counting their vocal takes in the studio for it, or any jazzed-up concert improvisations where they expand on the song. I wonder if they hear "Istanbul. Istanbul. Istanbul" ringing in their ears when they're drifting off to sleep at night. You winsomebul, you losesomebul.

[werezmastarbucks]

choke

i really like this gif, so i'm gonna use it everywhere

masterlist

word count: 1453

warnings: blood

You stood dumbfounded at the window, watching Chibs get up onto his feet and run his hands through his slick hair.

"Dead?" you uttered, to hear yourself say it.

"Bled out", he snapped back, pleasantly busy. "You got old sheets?"

"Yes, lots of them".

"Come help me then".

A minute later you were turning Ned's body onto its side, and you were fighting violent convulsions through it. You wanted either to throw up, or to black out, or to scream, and wasn't sure exactly why.

"I've seen dead bodies several times, but never... this", you puffed, keeping your throat closed not to let anything fall out. Chibs noticed your borderline panic and pushed you away lightly, tugging at his hands.

"This your first kill?"

"You sound like it's normal".

"Relatively", he said peacefully. You instantly got reminded of their different lives, Jax and him, and others in their bikers club or whatever it is. It's not like they fix bikes and listen to rock music all day long. You knew what gangs do.

"Heavy bloke", he commented, rolling Ned into three layers of sheets like a burrito. You watched him as he shifted his weight onto his hips, then lifted the body and plopped it on his shoulder, swayed a little, and then made a face.

"Yeah".

He walked slowly away from the yard, and suddenly you got reminded of Ted Bundy, sneaking people's corpses in carpets across the streets.

The amount of strength it took him to carry that dry bastard to the car exerted him almost to the point of fainting. The heat of the street was booming on his poor head, and this two and a half meter cunt weighed about three hundred kilograms. Chibs, not himself a small guy, decided that he was probably sweating through and through, and allowed himself a really quick cigarette after he finaly threw the body into the box of the car. Groaning with anger at the dead guy, he leaned against the car and killed his half lunch with two deep inhales. Then returned to the house, where poor girl was crawling on the floor of the living room, trying to scrub the blood out of the carpet.

"Nope, this has to go, too", he grumbled. You looked up at him, standing, leaning onto the doorframe. In the direct sun rays you finally noticed that the shirt he's wearing was dark purple and not black. It's like the vision was finally clearing. Your head was letting go little by little, as you cleaned.

"Do we need to throw away the whole thing?" you complained.

"Aye".

"But what if... we take this", you sat on your legs and rubbed off the sweat from your forehead, "like a pizza cutter, you know, the round one, but very big".

"Sorry, I don't have a very big pizza cutter. You'd need about a dog's size pizza cutter here", he said, his voice coarse.

"Come on, I'll lift the stand, and you just pull it out".

Another couple of minutes of labor, and you sneaked in front of Chibs into the hall to open the door for him. He brought the carpet into the car, too, and returned, like a ghost.

You walked through the house, searching, hoping for more drops of blood, but all the traces were now dissolving in the water bucket, standing against the kitchen wall. The heat was growing, flowing through the dwelling like serpent.

"You alright?"

Chibs was standing behind you, another source of this heat, and you couldn't decide how you feel about him. You opened your mouth to reply, but had no words. You nodded, unsure.

"If you wanna cry, then cry", he advised, "what happened today, is trauma. And what's been happening, I gather", he clenched his jaw a ittle, as his eyes slid onto your neck, "has been trauma".

"So, you're the psychologist of the gang?" you said, just to say something. Chibs' face stayed stone serious.

"I was a medic in the army. That thing gives you an idea about how vulnerable human mind is".

"What else do you do?"

"Cook, recite poetry, adore chocolate balls. You know these candy balls with nut inside?"

You blinked.

"You mean Ferrero Rocher?"

"Yeah, that's the one".

You felt your lips tremble against your will, and Chibs seemingly read your mind.

"Can I use your shower? I'm sweatin' like a pig, and his blood got under the shirt".

The change of pace immediately brought you to your senses.

"Yeah, there's clean towels in the cupboard. The bathroom is on the way to the kitchen".

"Thank you".

He nodded and walked away, allowing you to collapse and cry out everything you weren't ready to show him.

You were thinking, if you were in trouble, to what lengths can Jackson allow himself to go, or willing, rather, to protect you. If you had a protector in this town, except yourself. Chibs seems like the protective type: quiet, dark and knowing. Maybe you could egg him up to have your back if you have troubles with police. Older guys like him have soft spots for damsels in distress.

Sweat was like glue against your skin, and you thought of the shower he was occupying. You rubbed your shoulder absent-mindedly, pondered, watched the dust dance in the light filling the living room, until you heard the water stop. Chibs closed the door carefully, and you heard his steps approaching again.

"Hey", he called softly. The chain on his jeans glistened in the sun. So juvenile. The last time you were interested in chains on your jeans was in high school. You could never fully relate to this style of life, you thought.

"Let's go get you a drink. You need to process all this".

(drenk)

"Haven't drunk in a long time", you moved slowly, tracing the lines on the floor that's been hidden for years under the carpet.

"Every time I drink now, the first drop of alcohol touches my mouth, I immediately fall asleep. I guess it's old age".

"Old age?" he smiled, amused. Dimples again, you noticed lazily. "If yer old, then I'm ancient".

"Well, you did mention the army, so I assumed you participated in the First War of Scottish Independence?"

That was the only one you knew.

"Exactly", he grinned. "You must drink some cheap shit that it puts you to sleep. We'll get you a quality drink. And you'll tell me the whole story".

He was speaking quietly, smoothly, his low voice rumbling pleasantly, but in a tone that said that he wouldn't take no for an answer.

"After dragging around this asshole, I say I have a right to know why he's dead".

You really liked how he says 'dead'. Daed. Daed.

He said, wear something that'll make you feel vindicated. New. You went upstairs, to your bedroom, and looked at yourself in the mirror. Skin glistening with water after the shower, blue long lines on your throat from this morning, when Ned was trying to squeeze the life out of you. Shaking you by your neck like a rabbit. It looked like a gothic kind of thick necklace, blueberry color. You decided to prop it up, because you survived, and he didn't. You finally snapped. And now he's gone, rotting in the box of this dangerous man's car.

You decided on the top you had bought years ago, always meaning to wear it, always traveling with it in hopes that the right occasion would come up; the pretty and smug black top with deep cleavage. You finally had jeans to go with it, also black, with high waist. With such a scary dog by your side you weren't even worried that someone would bother you, even in a biker bar.

You made your eyes glimmer red, like the blood you've been scraping off your floor today. Let your hair down. As you finally came down the stairs to find Chibs patiently waiting in the hall, he threw one look at you and immediately let the subtitles on his face do the job.

"Celebrating, eh?"

"I was going for... you know the look the widows have in the movies, when they're the ones who killed their husbands, so they dress up all cunty for the funeral?"

"Oh, I get it. I thought he wasn't your hubby though?"

"No, of course not. But I've been waiting forever to wear this top".

"Fair enough", he nodded readily and stood up.

"Where are we going?" you asked, clenching his eyes as you took your faux leather jacket from the rack. Wearing it now would kill you. Chibs had one, on top of his dark-purple shirt; you assumed, bikers and gangsters, and army medics were just tough like that.

[star-neo-love]

I Hope We're Still Friends [part 2 of 'Not Allowed' series]

☆ Part 1 [All By Yourself, Sitting Alone] ☆ Part 3 [Yeah, I Hope You Don't Mind] coming soon... ☆

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☆ summary: Nick was getting better at controlling his thoughts, aided by the unyielding support of his two younger brothers. He knew getting over you and moving on wouldn’t be easy, and often, the only thing keeping him from spiralling was purposefully filling his mind and life with packed distractions and a frankly hectic schedule. But it worked. Or it did. Until you came back. Meeting your eyes in the middle of a crowded mall was not a part of his plan, and honestly? It set him back. By a lot. Actually, it had all gone down the drain. Evident in the fact that he was holed up in his room again, as he had been since getting home. The pain of his still-healing wounds being ripped back open was all-consuming, heart feeling raw, mind and thoughts spiralling as he fell back into the constant, tearing flood of questions. But you never could leave him alone.

☆ tags: reader spawns at the worst moment, chris is protective, nick is going through it and reader is NOT helping, still angst ig (sorry guys i lied last time), not together yet, reader is reaching out tho!!, kinda dialogue heavy at the end there... ☆ cw: angst, swearing, not much really anything tho

☆ word count: 1453 words

☆ hope you guys enjoy!! ☆

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Nick had been getting better, slowly but surely plodding along the path of recovery. Sure, he slipped backwards occasionally, bad days sometimes being more like bad weeks, but he was doing better.

Of course, just when he felt he could start to forget you, you crashed right back into his life. You had never been able to leave him well alone, even when you were gone, you were always plaguing his mind.

So he supposed it was only fitting that you’d come back just when he thought he was rid of you.

Nick couldn’t help the tinge of bitterness that twisted in his gut when he locked eyes with you. You seemed perfectly fine, still just as bright, surrounded by friends, dressed in an outfit that looked meticulously planned but that Nick knew you had likely thrown it on on a whim.

He hated you more than he ever had in his life. Perhaps for the first time in his life.

But the minute your eyes met his, all the hate sapped out of him, the burn and twist of indignation replaced with the burning of tears in his eyes, choking in his throat.

“Nick! Bro what are you- Oh...” Chris had jogged back over to Nick, who was rooted in place, eyes locked with yours.

Humiliatingly, he could feel tears stinging his eyes already, and he startled as Chris set a hand on his shoulder, blinking away the tears and turning.

“Let’s go.” he muttered.

“You okay?” Chris mumbled, not moving, simply looking into his older brother’s eyes with concern.

“Yeah. Can we go? Please.” Nick snapped, voice shaky even to his own ears, cracking on the last word as he choked on pain and tears.

He felt as though you had reached out and wrapped your hands around his still-healing heart and torn the fresh wounds apart again, ripping him open without a care.

Nick shook Chris’ hand off his arm, stalking away as his vision swam with unshed tears, his breathing shaky as he stumbled blindly away.

With his back turned, he didn’t notice the way you ignored your friends and tried to follow after him. He didn’t notice the way Chris glared at you and pushed you back with a firm hand on your chest, eyes cold as he looked into yours. He didn’t notice the way you raised your voice, eyes filling with tears just as his did, your voice strained and cracking as you argued with Chris.

“Fuck off, asshole. If you think i’m letting you anywhere near Nick you’re fucking delusional. And you’ve hurt me and Matt with your selfish, inconsiderate actions too jackass.”

He didn’t notice the way you slumped, defeated, tears spilling over as Chris scoffed and turned away, warning you off.

He didn’t notice the way you grit your teeth and walked back to your friends, bidding them a terse goodbye with a shaky voice before practically bolting to your car and driving away.

Chris jogged back up to Nick, joining him and Matt, exchanging looks with Matt when his worried eyes found the youngest’s. A silent conversation passed between the two younger triplets, and Matt steered Nick back to the car, Chris on the other side.

There was a tense silence as the three bundled into the car, Nick jamming on noise-cancelling headphones almost as soon as he had buckled into the backseat, cutting off any attempt from Matt and Chris to talk to him.

With a heavy sigh and a weary look exchanged with Chris, Matt shook his head and pulled out of the parking lot, driving back home, grip nervously tight on the wheel. When they had finally pulled back into the driveway of their home, Nick immediately got out of the car, disappearing wordlessly into his room before either of the two could stop him.

“Fuck...” Chris groaned, running a hand through his hair in frustration as he threw himself down on the couch, sprawling out and tipping his head back.

Matt brought his hand up to his mouth, nervously fiddling with his lips, picking at his thumb and chewing on his nail, eyes worried and wide as he stared up the stairs where Nick had disappeared. He stood over Chris, hovering anxiously right beside the couch.

“Should we go... Talk to him? What happened anyways?” Matt blurted, breaking the anxious silence of the living room.

“Y/N happened.” Chris hissed through gritted teeth, voice bitter and harsh.

He was hurt by you as well, they all were. You’d all been best friends after all, though not as close with you as Nick had been, Chris and Matt still smarted from the sharp sting of betrayal and confusion when you drew away.

You’d been practically brothers in all but the DNA shared between the three triplets. You and Nate.

Fuck, Nate.

He didn’t even know yet. Had you cut contact with him too? If so, he was likely confused and worried as hell right now.

Actually, Nate hadn’t mentioned anything at all. Surely if you had cut him off, he would have asked, right? So that meant...

Matt seemed to have come to a similar conclusion as Chris if the sharp exhale he let out was any indication.

“Huh, guess he’s fine with Nate.” Chris muttered bitterly.

“What... Did- Did we do something?” Matt mumbled, biting at his thumb, worrying at the skin around his nail.

Scoffing, Chris crossed his arms over his chair. “Yeah like what, the fucker just up and cut us out one day, wouldn’t even let us ask what was wrong.”

“But, it’s just- Why would he do that?” Matt furrowed his brows, thoughts racing at a hundred miles a minute.

“Who cares, as far as I’m concerned, he can fuck right off and stay away.” Chris muttered bitterly.

“Oh come on bro you don’t mean that and you know it. Y/N’s been around almost as long as we’ve been together, you can’t just forget that.” Matt mumbled, so hurt by your behaviour, and yet unable to pretend he didn’t want you back in their lives.

“And what do you want to do about it then? Huh Matt? You saw how wrecked Nick was just from seeing him today bro, do you wanna have a repeat?” Chris snapped, exhaling sharply through his nose.

“Chris. C’mon, you know there’s something wrong, we grew up with him. He wouldn’t just dip for no reason.” Matt reasoned, not knowing if he was trying to convince Chris or himself at this point.

“Yeah? Cause it seems like that’s exactly what he’s done. And besides, I told him to fuck off and stay away from us today at the mall. He said he wanted to 'explain himself and apologise'.” Chris retorted, clenching his jaw.

“What? Chris, why would you do that?” Matt asked, tone incredulous. If you had wanted to explain yourself, why would Chris have pushed you out so harshly?

Chris frowned at Matt, eyes wide with disbelief. “Bro, fuck you mean 'why would I do that'? Did you not see how fucked up seeing him got Nick? You think I should have let them talk?”

Matt sighed, dropping his head forward for a moment, sagging as the stress and tension suddenly drained from him. “You... You’re right. But- But we should probably try to talk to him, later. There’s got to be a reason.”

“Fine... Not- Not now though. If we do it we gotta do it with Nick, or I'll feel like we’re betraying him.” Chris relented, slumping against Matt as the older boy finally dropped down beside him, leaning into him.

“Of course, I'm not sneaking around behind his back either.” Matt agreed with a determined nod, falling silent as he and Chris both found their eyes drifting to the stairs, both worried for their older brother.

“Should we go check on h-” Matt started, before being cut off by the noise of a notification.

Specifically, a text, a custom tone he knew was yours.

His eyes widened, and he scrambled to tug his phone from his pocket. Chris sat bolt upright, also reaching for his phone, apparently having received one as well. Fishing his phone out at the same time as his brother, they both fell silent, looking at the twin messages on their screens, before looking up and meeting eyes.

“Can we talk?”

What the fuck.

“Bring Nick please, he won’t pick up my calls. I just want to explain.”

Grim expressions on their faces, they both turned to look up the stairs. Chris huffed, frustrated.

“Fuck, even now he still shares a brain with us huh?” He muttered bitterly.

“Let’s get Nick...” Matt sighed heavily.

“I’ll try.” He hit send before standing.

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thanks for reading, this was kinda really bad, but I hope you guys liked it 🥰!! xoxo, ACE

what do we think?? 🗣️ I'll dive into the reader's side of things in the next part, as well as wrap it up cause I ran out of lyrics for the titles... so the next part is gonna be LONG💪💪😩 ik I said reader would get a redemption, AND I PROMISE HE DOES, but this part ran away from me, so hopefully the next part will be the happy ending!!!😁😁

[scared to make promises about when I'll post part 3 [Yeah, I Hope You Don't Mind cause I can't stick to a deadline for the life of me. but I'll aim to have it out this weekend, or at the latest, next wednesday🙏🙏]

[lifblogs]

Imperial Property

@ailesswhumptober Day 4 Painful Transformation, Non-Consensual Body Modifications, "You're a monster."

Fandom: The Bad Batch Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word Count: 1453 Summary: Tech wakes up from one of the many surgeries he needs after Plan 99, and he is sorely reminded that his body is no longer his own. WARNINGS: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Suicidal Thoughts READ ON AO3

Tech’s left ankle was restrained when he awoke, dazed, and wishing to keep his eyes closed.

Someone was poking at his left foot, left leg.

As the poking and prodding got closer to his thigh, closer to— oh no, the break in his femur.

The shock of adrenaline shook off many effects of the anesthesia, and he started, trying to pull away, to sit up. His wrists were restrained, a strap even across his chest.

Tech was breathing harshly, turning his awkwardly-heavy head till his neck hurt to try and see the person who he guessed was poking at him. There was still nothing but darkness from… from where his left eye should be.

“CT-9902, you are awake,” the man breathed.

Tech didn’t bother arguing about the fact that he had a name. Sometimes he himself didn’t feel as if he had a name. But right now he was not just CT-9902.

Hemlock lifted up his head from where he’d been observing the mechno-leg he’d just installed. There was a glint in his eyes that had Tech swallowing roughly. His whole body felt cold, goosebumps rising across his skin. And he was very bare under the sheet, though he supposed it didn’t matter anymore.

Hemlock had been the one to amputate his ravaged leg. He’d seen everything already.

Everything was moving so fast that Tech wasn’t sure how to feel about any of this. He still had a soft helmet on his head, protecting the hurt, exposed part of his brain. His plate to replace part of his skull couldn’t be attached just yet as his brain still had healing to do. The remains of his left eye had been scooped out, and he hadn’t been gifted a cybernetic eye yet.

His gut had been repaired, but his abdomen and lower back were a mass of stitches. His back had yet to fully be repaired, and he didn’t know what was worse: waiting for yet another surgery, in pain; or having things continually happen to his body without any approval or form of consent from him. Hemlock just drugged him, did whatever he wanted, and waited for Tech to wake up to yet another change to his destroyed and now-foreign body.

He hadn’t told the doctor, but he’d started having chest pains. He secretly hoped his heart would give out from all it had been through. He wasn’t ready yet to appreciate surviving his fall. In fact, he hated himself for finding a way to survive, and in a way that had given him so many injuries and nearly killed him.

Hemlock should have let him die.

At some point (the surgeries were becoming a blur), Tech had had two mechno-fingers attached to his left hand, replacing his middle and ring fingers that had been shorn off by a thick tree branch, and they were connected to the joint. He figured his new leg could not be removed, and was attached to his hip now.

“Your new leg seems to be working rather well,” Hemlock said, “though I will have to run some… tests.”

Tech didn’t like the way he said that word, didn’t like anything about this man.

Not for the first time, Tech tried, “Where’s Crosshair?”

It was all he’d been asking once he’d been able to speak again, no longer aspirating, brain no longer killing him. Yes, he was alive, he loathed being alive, and all he felt seemingly everywhere was pain, pain, pain. But his mission wasn’t finished yet. If he was at Hemlock’s base, Crosshair had to be here too.

“Oh, he’s being kept in a secure place.”

A cell, of some sort, clearly.

Tech growled, and though it made his blood run cold, and the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, something deep in his brain telling him this was life-threateningly dangerous, he turned his head away from Hemlock.

Tech went through Hemlock’s tests, and while the leg itself didn’t hurt, he was soon groaning through clenched teeth at the skin and soft tissue that had been cut open to install this, and had only just been stitched up.

The stitches didn’t pull—Hemlock was smarter than that—but his ripped apart body protested, his still-healing spine that had shattered protested, and even his patched up abdomen did.

Tech’s breathing turned heavy, and he felt like he was going to be sick as his leg was moved around.

“Please…” he begged for some reason. “No more. I—”

He tossed his head back at renewed pain in his hip as Hemlock lifted his leg, which sent flashes and stars into his vision, his very brain aching, and he twitched in his restraints.

Hemlock sighed as if Tech was some insufferable experiment he had to deal with (Tech had already learned that he was nothing more than an object to this man), and dropped his leg unceremoniously.

“Fine.”

Suddenly the sleeve on his gown was pulled up, and a needle jabbed carelessly into his muscle.

Exhaustion hit Tech—if that’s who he even still was after all these injuries and surgeries and… modifications—and he lay back, wanting to sleep, and sleep, and never wake up.

Hemlock left him alone, but didn’t leave through the ray-shielded doorway. He was doing some work on a datapad and was monitoring Tech’s vitals. Oh, he was always hooked up to something.

In a few minutes, the nausea left. Tech painstakingly lifted up his head, and looked at his new leg. It was black, and gray, with some fine wiring in yellow hooked up throughout it. The knee was shaped like a knee-joint of a droid, almost like a pulley system. It had been freed of its restraints for the tests, and now, for the first time, he tried moving it for himself.

Tech willed it to move, and it did.

And he almost threw up.

This… this wasn’t him. This wasn’t his body. No, no, no. This was all a mistake, some kind of nightmare.

He was supposed to be hanging, hanging, looking up at Wrecker, and Omega through the slats of the nearly-detached railcar, nothing but clouds and death beneath him.

He was supposed to be saying, “When have we ever followed orders?”

Tech was supposed to be there. Surely he still was, terror creating this confusing, stifling miasma of waking moments rolled into endless hours, days, his body destroyed. That was all his fear, playing with his mind.

But he had to do it.

He had to grab his blaster, and blast what still held him above the clouds.

Tech had to fall.

He had to.

His family was depending on him.

They were, they were!

They would all die—

Tech didn’t close his eyes as he blasted the connecting line. He wasn’t afraid.

Please, let me die.

Only the sight of his new leg through his right eye met him. He didn’t even have a left eye anymore, was even missing part of his small intestine.

He was…

I’m broken. I’m nothing.

Tech couldn’t get himself to purposefully move his leg again, but any motion of his abdomen slightly moved his thigh. His thigh of metal, this… this thing.

That’s not my leg.

These fingers are not my fingers.

Any eye will not be mine.

Tech wasn’t a person anymore. How could he be?

Of course, he’d always seen Echo as a person, but… to experience something like him. Echo had been rescued.

Tech was sure he never would be, and he hadn’t gotten any wind of his team knowing where he was, where Crosshair was.

I’m going to die here.

A voice, cold, and clinical, not wholly his responded, You already have.

I suppose Crosshair’s as good as dead then too.

Maybe someone should just kill us all rather than rescue us. We’re just Imperial property, meant to suffer at Hemlock’s bloody hands.

Tech wiggled his new toes, almost threw up again, remembered his own leg getting destroyed, breaking, a branch shoving right through it, coming to eventually with no leg at all.

Now this.

Property didn’t need to consent to changes, to experimentation, to whatever body modifications were seen as necessary.

A numbness took hold in his chest, spreading throughout him, and what was left of him, taking root in his injured brain.

Hemlock startled Tech by coming over and stroking the leg attached to him. Not his. It couldn’t be his.

He stiffened at it, almost crying out.

“Beautiful,” Hemlock whispered, voice a low, breathy thing, almost like it was filled with want.

Tech just squeezed his eyes shut and let out a small moan.

But he weathered it, as he was supposed to. After all, he was nothing but Imperial property.

[wishitweresummer]

jealousy, jealousy

Day 4 - Ship Day

Word count: 1453

I can’t believe how well this week is going. Literally, like, my little heart. It’s so full. If you still want to join, don’t hesitate to join late!

Dream smiled and perked up at the sound of George’s giggle shriek from down the hallway. He sat up all the way and grinned when he realized it was getting closer.

“Fuck off!!”, George cried.

“You’re pissing me off, George!”, Sapnap huffed as he half carried half dragged the squirmy boy into Dream’s room.

“What’s going on here?”, Dream asked. Sapnap narrowed his eyes at him. “Um…Sap?”.

“You’re kinda pissing me off, too.”.

Dream bit back a grin, sensing the playfulness radiating from both of them. He scooted back and left plenty of room for Sapnap to toss George on his bed, quickly grabbing an arm and helping him in pinning the boy down. George shrieked in protest, already bubbling with nervous giggles.

“Leave me alone!”. The other two only shushed him.

“The adults are talking. Now, Dre-.”.

“Idiots!”, George interrupted. Dream slapped a hand over his mouth, making his yell of anger muffled.

Sapnap couldn’t help but giggle. It took a few seconds to get back to his fake-seriousness, but he eventually collected himself and explained what the problem was. George literally screamed the entire time.

Basically, it seemed to Sapnap like George was more ticklish when Dream tickled him than when he did. George went bright red when he figured out what was being said.

“I’m pretty good at tickling.”, Dream nodded.

“But, I’m really good too!”.

“My hands are a lot bigger.”, he pointed out. George bucked and muffled another scream into Dream’s hand, starting to panic.

“I wouldn’t say a lot.”, Sapnap huffed, making them both grin. Dream’s hands dwarfed Sapnap.

“I’m also his boyfriend. So, like I know him better.”.

“No you don’t!”, Sapnap gasped. “Why are you so ticklish for your boyfriend, huh?”. George screwed his eyes shut and squirmed wildly, getting nowhere.

“You're both idiots.”, Dream said fondly.

But honestly, the phenomenon had some backing. The first time Sapnap had the thought had been the first time he watched Dream take George down in their living room. He couldn’t remember if it had been George’s first day in the house or second, but he could clearly remember how he had never seen George scream like that. He and George had gotten into some fights in London where he was able to pin him and get him really good…but not like that.

Sapnap wasn’t always trying to completely wreck the other boy, but sometimes he wanted to hear that scream! He could only ever squeeze it out of him with the help of Dream.

Under Dream’s hands, George was feral. There’s no way Dream didn’t know the effect he was having.

“I’m serious! I can prove it!”.

~•~

George squealed when Sapnap grabbed him and roughly pulled him over.

“Don’t do this!”, he cried, drowning in giggles and trying to shove Sapnap away as he straddled him. “No!!”, he screeched.

“I have to show him!”.

“Stop! No!!!”.

Sapnap shook his head and attacked George’s ticklish sides before he could protest further. The boy squealed and burst out laughing. He bucked and squirmed and pried at Sapnap’s hands, but it was too late.

“See! Very ticklish!”, Dream grinned and pointed to the hysterical boy.

“Please!”, George cried.

Sapnap only let the tickling continue for a few more seconds before he lifted himself up and shoved George towards Dream.

“C’mere, tickle boy.”, Dream coo’ed as he dragged George over.

“No!! No!! Please!!”, he begged as he was straddled. “I can’t handle this!!”. Dream and Sapnap both laughed.

“Are you serious?”, Dream shook his head.

George was gasping through flustered giggles and bright red. He could barely look at either of them, covering his face in between sudden panicked bouts of attempted escape. Dream coo’ed at how worked up he was.

Dream’s hands grabbed into George’s sides and he shrieked, twisting into the bed.

“Fuck!!”, George yelled and collapsed into desperate laughter.

“See!”, Sapnap pointed.

“What! He’s laughing because he’s ticklish”.

“He’s screaming!”, Sapnap corrected.

“Well, we kind of got him worked up.”.

“I hate both of you!!!”, George cried through his laughter. He was squirming and kicking wildly, shoving at Dream’s chest and hands.

Dream lifted his hands away and George dropped back against the bed, giggling breathlessly. He wrapped his arms around his sides and squeezed his eyes shut.

Sapnap only gave him a second before shoving his hands underneath him and flipping him like a pancake. George screeched in protest and clawed at the blankets, but Sapnap crawled on top and sat on the back of his thighs anyway.

“Alright, let’s try to be more gentle. We can wait til he calms down.”, Sapnap grinned at Dream. George was beside himself with panicked giggles. “Well…more calm than he is.”.

This whole scenario was pretty much George’s worst nightmare. Both his best friend and boyfriend knew exactly how to tickle him to make him lose his mind. They were also both horribly competitive.

He felt hands shove his shirt up to reveal his back and he snatched a pillow to squeal into.

“No!”, Dream said as he pulled it away. “We have to hear you, silly.”. George would seethe in anger, but his skin was crawling with ticklish anticipation.

Gentle fingers crawled up his back and he let out a long whine at the feeling. Quickly, they lifted away and were replaced with new ones. They danced around his spine and he was helpless to the burst of squeaky giggles that flew from his lips.

“Are you serious?!”.

“What? He’s more ticklish here.”, Dream demonstrated by teasing back down George’s spine to make him twist and break into laughter.

“Stop!”, he cried. They did. Then, they went silent again. George prickled. “You two are so annoying!!!”.

Suddenly, a mouth was attached to his lower back, delivering a brutal raspberry. He wailed at the feeling before breaking into laughter. The vibrations were still shaking across his skin when he felt a mouth that was definitely Dream’s latch onto his side. He screamed in panic.

“Dream, no!!”, he cried. Dream smiled and lifted away, unable to stop his laughter.

“He knows.”.

“Yeah, shut up.”, Sapnap huffed.

Before George could calm down, fingers dug harshly into his rib cage right at the sides of his body. He tensed up and screamed. It was an awful spot, making him jolt against the bed before giving into his frenzied laughter.

As quick as they came, the fingers left him again.

“That was Dream too…”, he giggled out. The two scoffed.

“How did you know that?”, Dream asked.

“I just know. I like, know your hands. And your…mouth. Whatever. Ugh!”, George struggled a little with the flustering admission, also still coming down from the tickle attack.

His little comment sparked an idea in Sapnap. The youngest grinned evilly over at Dream before tapping his chin. Dream smiled in confusion, waiting. Just as George was growing quiet again, Sapnap ducked down and carefully dug his chin into the ticklish muscles of his back. The boy shrieked and collapsed against the mattress. The feeling was a little foreign, startling hysterical laughter from him instantly. His hands scrabbled for purchase in the blankets, but he couldn’t stay still with the torture.

“Please!!”, he screamed. Sapnap sat up, throwing his fists in the air victoriously. There was that scream!!

Dream giggled at George’s reaction, waiting a few beats for him to realize the tickles had stopped.

The second he went limp, Dream dropped down for his own attack. George…went quiet. He let out a stuttering wheeze before his sound cut out completely and he convulsed. It tickled bad.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”, Sapnap muttered. Dream pulled away when he realized how much his boyfriend was struggling. As soon as the chin left his back, he cried out. Laughter flooded out of him as he tried to hide his face into the bed.

“Dream! Don’t…ever do…that again!!!”, he whined through his uncontrollable giggles.

“You knew?!”, Sapnap yelled. Dream only giggled, pleased with the new discovery.

“This is so crazy. He’s literally more ticklish with you!”.

“It’s fine! Who cares?”.

“I care!! That’s not even fair!”. Sapnap plopped down to lay right next to George, close enough to make the boy erupt into a new round of giggles. At this rate, he would never calm down. “You like when I tickle you, right Georgie?”.

“What! No, you're crazy!”.

“Ugh! But, like it’s good right?”.

“No!! You’re insane!!”, George laughed and shoved Sapnap away roughly. Instantly, they were wrestling on the bed.

Dream only shook his head in amusement.

“At least we all know that I’m the best tickler.”. He dropped his hands down and attacked both of their sides with tickles, grinning at the mix of their screams.

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Christmas Reruns 2024–Day 28: New York Christmas Serenade (2/4)

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t!  One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia.  A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns.  So here you go!  Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

Word Count: 1453

Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 29 30 31

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

CS Genre: Canon Divergence (missing year between 3a and 3b)

Killian felt an unaccustomed stab of nervousness flow through him as he walked the steps leading toward Swan’s abode.  He knew very little of what was transpiring in Storybrooke, only that the kingdom had once again been transported to the Land Without Magic via a curse and they needed the savior. 

Much was riding on Killian’s success in restoring Emma’s memories, and he felt the weight of the responsibility placed upon his shoulders.  While he’d have traded away the Jolly and done all in his power to find Swan simply for her own sake, the fact that her parents were counting on him spurred him on even more.  It had been centuries since he’d truly belonged anywhere and he had no intention of mucking this up.

Truthfully it was a minor miracle she’d invited him to spend the evening with her and the lad at all, but from what he’d gathered as he’d wandered the streets of this strange place called “New York” Christmas was a time for miracles.

Taking a deep breath, Killian raised his artificial hand and wrapped on her apartment door promptly at 7:00 pm.  He tapped his fingers against his leg as he waited, and then suddenly the door was opened and she stood there and literally took his breath away.  She wore a soft green sweater that brought out her eyes, jeans and brown boots, her hair was pulled back into a soft pony tail.

“You’re stunning, love,” he said in wonder—almost reverence.  His heart rate picked up as he saw her color prettily at the compliment.  If he didn’t know better, he’d swear Emma Swan was flustered by his presence in her home.

“Thanks,” she said, “you look pretty good yourself.”

Killian looked down at his black jeans, his blue button down shirt and his leather jacket, glad he’d thought to find attire more suitable to his environs. 

“Aye, well..” he said, giving her a flirtatious grin, “I have been called dashingly handsome, love.”

She rolled her eyes but laughed softly, breathily.  Killian leaned toward her, drawn to her, wishing nothing more than to repeat their mind-blowing kiss on Neverland.  For a moment, Emma leaned forward, lifted her head.  Was she actually going to allow him to kiss her?

“Hey guys, are you coming in soon?” came Henry’s voice from the kitchen, “I’m starving.”

And with that the spell was over.  Emma took a healthy step back, held onto the door and waved him in.  “Yeah, um…” she said, “come in.  Dinner’s ready.”

Killian obliged, shedding his jacket and placing it on the rack beside the door.  He looked around in interest, admiring the large, open feel of the apartment, impressed with the large, well decorated pine tree in the corner near the windows, enjoying the delectable aromas wafting in from the kitchen.

“It smells tasty, love,” Killian said, taking the seat Henry indicated at the head of the table.  “Did you prepare our meal yourself.”

Henry laughed.  “Mom doesn’t cook; especially on Christmas!  Of any day of the year, we ought to at least have edible food on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.”

“Excuse me?” Emma said feigning great offense.  “You better watch yourself, Kid.  Santa’s still watching.  Don’t want to get on the naughty list.”

Henry grinned.  “Hey, I’m only telling the truth.  I’d say being honest ought to keep me on the nice list.  But seriously, Killian, we had our dinner catered from this little Italian place down the street.  They have the best spaghetti and meatballs you’ve ever eaten!”

Killian smiled at the playful ribbing between mother and son.  Though he knew his Swan would wish to have her memories and know the truth, he was grateful to the Queen for giving her and the lad such pleasant memories and such a close relationship in their false life.

“I’ve no doubt but that you’re right, Henry,” Killian said, taking the bowl of long, thin pasta Swan passed him. He placed a healthy serving on his place, and then topped it with the red sauce placed before him on the table.  “As it happens, this is the first time I’ve ever consumed this particular dish.”

Both Swan and her lad stopped what they were doing and shot him astonished looks.  “You’ve never eaten spaghetti and meatballs before?” Henry asked.

“Not even once.”

“Well are you in for a Christmas treat!” Henry assured him as he began to eat with typical preteen gusto.

And as Killian ate his meal of spaghetti and meatballs, salad and garlic bread, he had to admit the lad was correct—although whether it was the deliciousness of the food or the pleasantness of the company he enjoyed most was a matter for some debate.  As the evening continued, Swan lost the last hint of her nervous awkwardness and began talking and laughing with him—far more open than she’d ever before been in his presence.

After dinner, Killian followed the lad into the living room to choose a movie for the evening, after which came a ritual that left Henry nearly writhing in excitement.

“We open most of our gifts on Christmas morning,” Emma told Killian as Henry rushed toward the tree, carefully picking up each of the brightly wrapped packages which bore his name, shaking them, looking them over, weighing them in his hands, “but a few years ago, the kid talked me into starting a Swan family tradition of him getting one of his presents on Christmas Eve.  Choose carefully, kid.”

And suddenly, with the mention of gifts for the occasion of Christmas, Killian came up with a plan.  What if he was able to jog the lad’s memories?  With Henry on his side, perhaps the two of them could find a way to remind Emma who she truly was.

Killian grinned as Henry opened his chosen gift.  The lad���s enthusiasm and exuberance were contagious.

“The video game I wanted!” Henry said as soon as the bright, colorful paper was ripped away.  “Thanks mom!  This is great!”

Emma ruffled his hair.  “No problem kid,” she said.  “And just you wait.  You may be an expert at the other games, but I’m determined I’m going to beat you at this one!”

“Sounds like a challenge to me, lad,” Killian said teasingly, reaching over to playfully squeeze Swan’s shoulder from her perch beside him on the couch.  “Are you going to let it go unanswered?”

“No way!” Henry said.  “You’ll see, mom!  You may be good catching real bad guys, but I’ve got the video bad guys quaking in their boots!  Can I play it now?  Please?”

Before Emma could answer, Killian put a up his artificial hand.  “Just a moment, lad,” he said.  “If you please, I have my own gifts to bestow.”

“Killian,” Emma said, looking over at him, “you didn’t need to…”

“Nonsense, love,” he answered.  “You were so kind as to allow me to share your holiday.  The least I can do is offer a few small tokens of my gratitude.”

“Seriously, we don’t expect…” Emma began again, but this time she was interrupted by her son.

“Did you bring me something?” he asked Killian, stepping up to him.

“Indeed I did, lad,” Killian said, reaching for his satchel.  “If I don’t miss my guess, you have the heart of a true believer.  The truest believer, even.  I thought perhaps you might find joy in perusing the stories of other heroes and believers.”

With a flourish, Killian pulled Henry’s old storybook from his bag and presented it to the boy.  It was this book that had ignited Henry’s belief the first time.  Was it possible the item would do the trick for a second time?

Henry accepted the offering, muttering a quick “Thank you,” before peering in confusion at the tome.

“A storybook?” Henry asked, brow furrowed.

“Aye,” Killian said, “a storybook, but I hope you’ll find it so very much more.  Go on lad, open it.”

Killian watched eagerly as Henry opened the book to the story of his grandparents.  He hadn’t long to wait.  Henry couldn’t have read more than a paragraph before his eyes got wide as saucers and he quickly looked up at Killian.

“Hook!” he said slowly.  “I…I remember!”

Waves of relief covered Killian like a blanket.  He may still have quite the uphill task in front of him, but for the first time since finding his beloved Swan in her apartment home, Killian knew without a doubt that he would.

–Up next: Emma wakes up on Christmas morning—and ends up spending a very pleasant full day with both her son and the pirate she doesn’t yet remember she had feelings for.

NEXT CHAPTER->

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Day: 4 @eonweweek

Prompt: Romance

Pairing: Eönwë/Arien

Themes: Epistolary form (letters) | Medieval AU

Warnings: Just two people all loved up, your honor  

Word count: 800+ words

Summary: Eönwë writes to Arien, thanking her for her gift.

Letter from Eönwë to Arien:

25th August 1453

To my most beloved Lady Arien, greetings.

Not long ago, I received your letter and your gift of a saffron ribbon richly embroidered in golden thread. It pleases me to hear of your prosperity and good health, and I accept the present that you have bestowed upon me with a glad and willing heart. If it would not offend, I will wear it upon my person whenever opportunity allows.

My lady, the continued demonstrations of your affections oblige me to love and honor you always. Such things I do not consider a burden, for what burden is there in serving the one whom I desire over all others? I shall treasure your words and your tokens, and I pray that I will continue to be the recipient of your esteem; there would be no greater punishment than the loss of it.

I compete next in the tourney at House Shield. Lord Tulkas has welcomed all, and the king himself will take his place in the lists. I yearn to see you there, and perhaps, if it pleases you, I could entreat you to join me in more private amusements, far away from the prying eyes of others.

I must now end this letter, my lady, for a lack of time, but know that I wish you well and that you are in my thoughts always.

Written by the hand of your most humble servant,

Eönwë

Letter from Arien to Eönwë:

02nd September, 1453

To my most beloved knight, greetings.

Your letter came to me on the swiftest of swings, and it was received with much joy. I made haste to write in answer, for the weather is slowly beginning to grow colder, and our birds do not fare well when it becomes even more so. The cold makes them weak, and too many of them become easy prey. Come winter, my letters will be a rare thing, but I will more than make amends for it when we are blessed once again with the glory of spring.

It would not offend me in the slightest, my lord, if you wore my token upon your person. And it honors me, truly, to know that my tokens and my letters, trifling things as they are, will always be treasured by you. Your words of devotion humble me, my lord, and I pray that I will always prove myself to be worthy of it.

I too will travel to House Shield, for the ladies I serve desire to witness the spectacle of the tourney. Lord Tulkas will see to it that no expense is spared, especially now, when the king himself wishes to contend with other knights. As for the other matter, that of my joining you in more private amusements, my answer is yes, my lord. I will be glad to do so.

For now, my love, farewell.

Arien 

Letter from Eönwë to Arien:

11th September 1453

To the Lady Arien, my beloved companion in all things. Greetings.

Thanks, and thanks, and thanks again, my love, for your letter. Preparations are nearly complete for our journey, and the king has sent word for us to depart on the last day of this very month. The days will be long and hard and tiresome, but such struggles will be soon forgotten when I am finally able to see you and take you into my arms once again.

I too understand the difficulty that comes with sending letters during the winter. The road to Ilmarin is nigh impassable; the wind howls violently like a living, breathing beast and only the boldest, or perhaps the most foolish of hearts, attempt to ride up paths hidden beneath thick drifts of snow. Perhaps, my lady, you will consider wintering in Ilmarin before returning to Green Grove in the spring. You will find that the royal palace is warm and well-appointed even during the coldest and foulest of months, and you will not lack for any comfort. His grace the king has already consented to my request, and I will gladly speak to the ladies you serve on this score if you were to give me leave to do so.

By the hand of your most faithful companion,

Eönwë

Letter from Arien to Eönwë:

19th September, 1453

Most treasured companion, greetings.

My lord, I heartily accept your invitation to while away the winter months in Ilmarin. The ladies whom I serve will readily assent to your plea, and I gladly give you leave to speak with them when you see them next. I am told that Ilmarin is most beautiful during the cold months, with holly and sprigs of evergreen and gilded lamps wrought in the shape of stars adorning its chambers and halls. I have always longed to see such beauty with my own eyes, and I am forever grateful to you for granting me this.

I shall put down my quill for now, but please know that you are in my thoughts and prayers always.

Written by the hand of she who is always yours,

Arien

tags: @cilil @asianbutnotjapanese

[sproutwings]

20 Questions for Fic Writers!

The lovely @crestfallercanyon tagged me for this weeks ago, and I haven't been ignoring it - I just didn't get around to it sooner. Sorry!

How many works do you have on AO3? 380 (382, technically, because two are still anon/unrevealed exchange works.)

What’s your total A03 word count? 1,123,214

What fandoms do you write for? Currently, mostly DCU, The Flash and a bunch of tiny fandoms, but I've been writing fanfic for ages, so I went through quite a few fandoms.

What are your top five fics by kudos?

a) cut me open, take my heart (DCU, JayTim, 1744 kudos) b) A Bird in the Hand (DCU, Dickstroke, 1694 kudos) c) Hook(er), Line and Sinker (The Flash, Coldflash, 1586 kudos) d) No Shortage of Blood (Original Works, Starving Vampire/Vampire Hunter Having A Moral Crisis, 1453 kudos) e) Portrait of the Artist as a Middle-Aged Man (Gossip Girl, Dan/Blair/Chuck, 1149 kudos)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I always try to, but sometimes it takes a while to get around to it. /o\

What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I have no idea. I used to write a lot of angsty stuff back when I was younger but the older I get the more I gravitate towards fics that leave the characters in a... well, maybe not necessarily in a good place exactly, because I tend to ship a lot of dysfunctional ships and write unhealthy relationship dynamics, but I don't want the characters to feel hopeless and unhappy in the end, so even when they're in a bad situation, they're making the best out of it.

A very old, very angsty fic of mine is Too Close To Touch (Harry Potter, various permutations of Draco, Harry and Hermione). I don't know if it's the angstiest overall, but it occasionally still gets comments so it's fresh in my mind despite having been written almost two decades ago.

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Oh no, this is similarly hard to answer. Maybe Throw Away the Plan (The Flash, Coldwestallen)? Most of my endings seem to be "the main conflict of the story is dealt with, the ship kisses and things are okay-ish for now". 🙃

Do you get hate on your fic? Maybe once or twice, but nothing dramatic or memorable, luckily enough.

Do you write smut? Sometimes.

Do you write crossovers? No.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yes! Someone copied a few of my fics word by word, replaced the names and posted them as Kpop RPS. D: D: D: I got the author to take them down, but they did it with a lot of people's fics and eventually AO3 banned them.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes, a few! I blanket allow translations, as long as they're credited properly and not posted anywhere but AO3.

Have you ever co-written a fic? Yes, but it was a really long time ago, and coordinating was pretty stressful. I prefer to work on my own schedule.

What‘s your all-time favourite ship? Noooo, don't make me choose. I love so many ships! If I absolutely had to pick one, it would be Tommy/Bubonic from Eye Candy, but it mostly depends on what I'm in the mood for right in that moment.

What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? There's Coldflash BDSM fic based on a long-forgotten Tumblr prompt I would have loved to write one day, but it would be far longer than anything I'm comfortable writing and it's only 'in progress' in so far that I have a few dialogue snippets from it written down yet.

What’s your writing strengths? Character voices and snappy banter, probably.

What’s your writing weaknesses? Plot!!!! As you can see by every fic I've written where the characters get captured or attacked by some nameless villain for nebulous reasons. I always handwave stuff like that because I simply can't bring myself to care about it or put any thought into it. 😅 Sorry!

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? As a reader, It always throws me out of the story. :(

First fandom you wrote for? The X-Files! Mulder/Krycek was teenage Sandrine's first fanfic obsession. (Though technically, I wrote terrible Star Wars and The Three Musketeers fic long before I knew what fanfic was! But I've decided that doesn't count. 😅)

Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

(never been) so much at stake (OW, Vampire Moonlighting As A Barista/Exhausted Vampire Hunter In Search Of Caffeine) is probably the best, but The Biggest Score of All (The Flash, Coldflash) has my heart!

I'm supposed to tag people here, and I'm terrible at this, so @waysheswings, @sunherirai, @moriavis, @zeroducks-2, @hithelleth, @elasticella - if you want to do this, consider yourself tagged and if you want to ignore it, pretend I never mentioned your name. And anyone else who sees this and wants to answer, you're also tagged! Yes, I mean YOU. :D

[sweeter-innocence-fics]

You Brought Your Worst and I’m Right Here - Chapter Eight: I can't even blink

Pairing: Gale of Waterdeep x female Tav

Work Summary:

After an explosive falling out between Gale and his academic adviser, Mystra, Tav is left to pick up the pieces.

Modern/College AU.

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 Epilogue

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1453

Read on AO3.

Masterlists.

Taglist: @mrs-kai-anderson @ang3l1te @missryerye

Taglist info

Previous Chapter

The motivational kitten poster had once been held up by staples, but one of the top corners had long since torn, drooping like the dying houseplant on Tav’s windowsill. Even so, the kitten stared back at her with dead eyes. She found it hard to look away.

When the door to the dean’s office finally re-opened, Tav stood up too fast. Her chair hit the wall with a thunk.

Gale’s expression was drawn as he stepped out into the hallway, but when their eyes met, he smiled at her. He shut the door behind himself. The click was far too loud in the quiet of the hallway.

“How did it go?” she asked.

His hands fluttered nervously at his sides. He hesitated for a moment, and then said, “It’s done.”

“Do you want to go get a drink?”

“Please.”

Against their better judgment, they found themselves at the on-campus bar. Of course, there was no chance Professor Mystryl would be caught dead here, so they were safe from running into her, but all of campus still felt like a potential minefield.

But Gale had been tired and wanted to decompress and drinks were cheap here. They got themselves a booth far from the window, just to be certain.

“How are you feeling?” asked Tav as Gale nursed a glass of red wine.

“I feel…” He sighed, putting his elbow on the table and leaning his face on his palm. “I feel like my body won’t relax. Like I’m having heart palpitations. I guess I’m nervous? I’m afraid of what happens next.”

Tav took a deep breath and stretched across the gap between them, laying her hands palm up, inviting him in. He stared at her hands for a moment, and then took them in his own.

“It’s going to be okay,” said Tav, feeling the heat spreading from the base of her neck and up to her cheeks. “Whatever happens, I’m here. And you have friends all around you. We won’t let her hurt you anymore.”

Gale looked up from the table, his eyes finding hers. His gaze was searching, but Tav had no idea what he was looking for. It made her feel naked.

“What?” she asked, self-consciously.

“Nothing, I’m just… re-evaluating some things,” he said, slowly. “Tav, I’ve been a fool. I don’t know-”

“I am sorry to interrupt,” came a voice from beside their table. Neither of them had heard the person approach. Tav pulled her hands out of Gale’s instinctively, leaning back like she’d been burnt.

Standing over them was Jaheira, a biology professor whom they were both peripherally aware of.

“I just wanted to say to you, Gale, that what you’re doing is very courageous,” she said. Gale looked up at her, stunned. “I am ashamed to say that you are not the first student to have been put in this position by that woman, but by doing this, you can ensure that you are the last. I have been trying to get the dean to fire her for misconduct for years, but since I have been unable to provide evidence of wrongdoing, there was nothing to be done. None of her victims have ever been willing to come forward before. She is manipulative. She has this hold over people. So if she or the university make any trouble for you, come find me, alright? I will be happy to provide my testimony.”

“Thank you, professor,” Gale stuttered.

“I will leave you and your…” She regarded Tav for a moment. “…friend to it. Good evening.”

Gale looked back at Tav, eyes wide, as Jaheira walked away. “That was unexpected.”

“It’s good to know you’ve got faculty members in your corner. If Jaheira knew what Mystra was up to, then surely a lot of people must’ve known. That can only help your case.”

Gale frowned. “How did she know I was coming forward about this, though?”

“Maybe the dean told her? She’s been trying to bring this to his attention for years, from the sound of it.”

“I’m just concerned. I didn’t expect it to escape containment so fast. If Jaheira knows, who else does?”

His breathing was speeding up. Tav reached across the table again and grabbed his hands.

“It’s okay,” she murmured soothingly. “Don’t panic. We prepared for this, remember? It’s all going to be okay.”

Gale swallowed and squeezed her hands. “Thank you for being here with me. I don’t think I could do this without you.”

“You’re my best friend. I would never make you go through this alone.”

*

Their hands kept seeming to find each other after every separation. The two of them were walking home now, enjoined hands lightly swinging between them. It was dark and cold, but thankfully not wet.

“I told Wyll I was going to cook tomorrow night,” said Gale conversationally.

“Oh really?” Before all of this, Gale had cooked most nights, although the others pitched in where they could. He hadn’t cooked since his hospital stay. “What are you going to make?”

“I was going to start simple with a vegetable lasagne.”

“Sounds divine. I’ve missed your cooking.” Tav moved closer to him, leaning into his side for warmth.

“Cold?”

“A little.”

He let go of her hand to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “Better?”

She put her arm around his waist. This close, he could smell her deodorant and the fabric softener she used. “Much, thank you.”

They stayed that way until they reached the end of their street. They stopped on the corner, reluctantly pulling apart from their embrace. It was unspoken, but since the movie night, they had been a little more careful about showing physical affection to each other in front of their friends.

Gale wouldn’t have minded, but Astarion’s words to him kept swimming around in his head, never too far from the surface.

Don’t break her heart.

“Before we get back,” he said, stopping her, “I just wanted to say thank you again, Tav. I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for you.” He smiled at her, but her face fell.

“Don’t say that,” she said, her voice breaking. His smile faded immediately. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m sorry, I- Oof.” He was cut off by her burrowing her way into his arms, pressing her face into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her again and, after a moment’s hesitation, dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “I know it’s not a pleasant thought, but it’s true. I was a wreck and you put me back together.”

Tav was crying now. He could feel the way her shoulders were shaking. She rubbed her face into his shirt, dampening the fabric.

“Please don’t cry, Tav. I hate that I’m hurting you like this.”

She shook her head, pulling away so that she could look him in the eyes. She grasped his biceps, locking her elbows.

“Promise me something, Gale?”

“Anything.” It was probably an unwise thing to say, but it was hard to be wise when she was looking up at him with doe eyes and a tearstained face.

“If it ever gets that bad again… If you ever want to end your life, you call me. No matter where you are or where I am. Even if we haven’t spoken to each other in twenty years. You call me. And I’ll come to you. And we can get through it together.” There was a fierceness in her expression that made his heart jump.

The idea of going for twenty years without seeing her sounded preposterous, but he knew that people grew apart. The thought of growing apart from Tav made him impossibly sad.

“Promise me?” she repeated.

“I promise.”

“Good.”

She was still looking up at him. For a brief moment of insanity, he thought about kissing her, just to see what it would feel like. His feelings were muddled and maybe kissing her would clarify things. Or maybe it would make this whole situation ten times messier.

The moment passed. She leant in and squeezed him one more time before pulling away completely.

“Come on,” she said. “I’m cold. Let’s get inside.”

*

After dinner, Gale decided it would be best to get an early night. It had been a very fraught and emotionally exhausting day.

Tav had hugged him goodnight even though they weren’t alone, which was enough to put a smile on his face. Astarion met his eye over Tav’s shoulder and gave him a warning look.

As Gale settled into bed, freshly showered and bone-tired, his phone starting buzzing. Someone was calling him. He turned it over to see the screen lit up with the last name he wanted to see right now.

Mystra.

Next Chapter

[crosshimes-fanwritings]

Entwined Tales: Puzzle III: Robotnapping

Fandoms/Series: Zatch Bell and Professor Layton Rating: T Crossover AU: Vacantverse Canon Settings: Post-Zatch Bell Anime (References to Manga) and NWOS (Professor Layton) Warnings: Kidnapping, Panic attack, hyperventilating and stalking. Summary: Coindar and Carolina gets kidnapped and Suzume suffered a panic attack. Notes: Hiroaki and Reina are villain OCs of mine. Albert is a robot OC based on the Tomy I-SOBOT Robot. Word Count: 1453

Suzume knew it was a mistake to enjoy tea with Marina in a cafe because Hector and his friends were there. Biker and Carrie were also there, but unlike the annoying American teenage boys, Biker and Carrie didn't bother Suzume with dumb moments.

"Hey, baby! How was Triton's shoulder?! I bet his shoulder was flat as fuck!" Hector snickered at Suzume.

Why does the blond-haired and blue-eyed American boy with slick-back hair keep throwing stupid and flirtatious questions and comments at her? Suzume groaned. Resting her head on Luke's shoulder was a huge mistake. She has no idea what possessed her to lean on her junior for a pillow.

"Oh, piss off, Goldman!" Marina flipped him off. "You're just jealous because it wasn't yours."

"GAH! You don't get me at all!" Hector tousled his hair, frustrated. "Why does Triton have the HOT Japanese chicka living with him?! HOW ABOUT ME?!"

"Wow, you sure are popular, Miss!" Carrie grinned at Suzume. "The boys are fighting for ya heart!"

'And did you brats forget that I'm actually much older?!' Suzume thought, feeling disturbed by the unwanted attention on her.

"How old are you again?" Marina asked.

"Nineteen."

Everyone stopped chatting and focused their attention on Suzume, very surprised.

"What?"

"Hold on! You're nineteen?!" Carrie exclaimed.

"You looked hella younger than nineteen, girl!" Biker reacted.

"So, it is true," Mufty said. "Japanese people do look younger than their ages."

"Ya spill ya secrets of staying young, girlie!" Derek smirked, drooling at her. "So I can look at ya FOREVER!"

"Fuck off! She's MINE!" Hector scowled, shoving Derek.

"Ya fuck off! I laid my eyes on the Japanese ass first!" Derek shoved him back.

"Marina, I'm out. I need to take Carolina to Eggmuffin." Suzume turned around and exited the cafe after leaving coins for her tea.

"See ya!" Marina farewelled.

Suzume has had this ill feeling for a while since she arrived at Steam Bison.

Someone was watching her, and she does NOT take kindly to being watched without her consent.

Suzume arrived at Eggmuffin's workshop, and Carolina jumped out of her pocket. Eggmuffin and Layton were in a discussion about different types of steam-powered vehicles. Luke or Coindar weren't around.

"Creepo not here," Carolina commented on Coindar's absence.

"Are you usually happy when he isn't around?" Suzume asked.

"Don't get the wrong idea! I'm just BORED!"

'Sure, my little tsundere.' Suzume smiled, amused with Carolina's fickleness when it came to Coindar.

"How about you and the human creepo?!" Carolina flew to Suzume's face, having a suspicious gaze. "I bet he likes you like Creepo likes me!"

"Don't be silly, Carolina." Suzume giggled. "Triton only likes puzzles and mysteries. And no, he isn't a creep. Eggmuffin needs to replace your wings, so stop flying." Suzume held Carolina and deactivated her wings.

"But I like flying." Carolina groaned, disappointed.

"Don't worry, Coindar will get his wings and fly alongside you."

"Who says I want to fly with him?! I want to be the only one with wings!"

"Now, now, Carolina. Don't be too selfish."

"UGH!"

Meanwhile, inside an abandoned building across from Eggmuffin's workshop, a young Japanese man with messy black hair and brown eyes was using binoculars to spy on Suzume and Carolina. He was wearing a white dress shirt with black suspenders and brown pants. His name was Hiroaki Nagao.

"Pay attention," He said to a black and gray robot called Albert. "The pink and white robot will be your wife."

"What is a wife?" Albert asked.

"YOU FOOLISH FOOL!" The young man raged. "Do you want to be defeated by your love rival?!"

"I'm unfamiliar with most human terms." His robot responded.

"YOU WORTHLESS, USELESS PIECE OF SHIT!" The man grabbed his robot and threw it into the trashcan. "Now, go and do what I say!"

Poor Albert stumbled out of the trashcan and walked out of the room. The man kept spying on his targets.

"I hope you enjoy our reunion, Nashi-chan! I will make you regret rejecting me!" He snickered.

When Luke and Coindar returned to Eggmuffin's workshop, carrying a food tray box. Suzume pretended she didn't see him and drew a design of Carolina's new wings on paper. Suzume still felt disturbed by her actions yesterday. Luke greeted Layton and Eggmuffin.

"Carolina…." Coindar said.

'Shut up, Coindar! I don't want Triton to talk to me right now!'

Suzume was not upset at Luke.

'I just don't know what to say to him right now.'

"Are those Carolina's new wings?"

Speak of the devil. Suzume turned around and faced the curious boy.

"Yes!" Suzume chuckled. "Where have you been all day?"

"At a client's house for a case."

'Probably a female one.' Suzume turned her eyes away from Luke and pouted, displeased. 'Again, why do I feel disappointed?'

"Oh, the cilent gave me these sweets as a reward," Luke opened the food tray box. Inside the food tray box, there were four cute-designed steamed buns. "I don't know what type of sweets these are."

"Kyaaaaaa! They are so cute!" Suzume squealed delightfully. "I know these buns! They are called steamed buns! Kyaaaaa! She cupped her cheeks. "These buns are too cute to eat!"

And she has done it again, acting like a typical fourteen-year-old fangirl. Layton and Eggmuffin paused to look at Suzume. Coindar blinked at the steamed buns, curious how it would taste if he had a mouth.

'What the hell I'm doing?!' Suzume quickly spun around and slammed her hands onto the desk. She bit her button lip as her cheeks were burning up. 'This is so embarrassing! Those buns belonged to Triton, not me! He earned the tasty buns, not me!'

"Cute," Luke whispered. "So cute…"

'Did Triton just call me cute AGAIN!? What the HELL?! Why I'm getting freaked out over a single compliment?!' She slumped. 'Maybe he was talking about the buns, not me. Why I'm getting worked up over nothing?'

"Miss Mizuno, are you all right?" Layton asked after he approached her and Luke.

"Oh!" Suzume faced Layton. "I'm quite all right, Mr. Layton! I'm sorry for disturbing you and Mr. Eggmuffin!" She waved her hands repeatedly, laughing nervously.

"Mah! We finished our discussion before ya fangirl over those cute buns from Japantown!" Eggmuffin grinned at her. "Yes, I ate those steamed buns before! Delicious they are!"

"…Yeah." Luke agreed, blushing.

'Why is he embarrassed!?'

Suddenly, a window shattered, and a giant smoke ball dropped in. Before everyone could react, the smoke ball activated, causing a massive fog in the workshop. Everyone was coughing.

"AHHHHH!" Carolina screamed. "Let me go! Let me go!"

"Carolina!" Suzume yelled panickingly.

"Coindar! HELP ME!" Carolina pleaded. "HELP ME!"

"I'm coming, Carolina!" Coindar jumped off Luke's shoulder. "GAH!" He went silent.

"Coindar!" Luke yelled.

"Luke, Miss Mizuno! Stay where you are!" Layton called out. "Mr. Eggmuffin, where are you?!"

"Right here, sunny!" Eggmuffin's voice responded. "Let me just find the machine to do the trick! There is it!"

Eggmuffin used a steam-powered smoke eater to clear out the fog.

Suzume spotted a note on the desk. When she read the note, she gasped in terror. Her eyes twitched dreadfully. She recognized that handwriting. She thought she had escaped from him. She thought he was out of her life for good.

Suzume covered her mouth and fell onto her knees. She vomited onto the floor. Her body started to tremble.

"Are you okay, Miss Mizuno?!"

Suzume clutched her hand onto her chest. She collapsed onto the floor, starting to hyperventilate.

"She's having a panic attack, lad!" Eggmuffin shouted. "Call a doctor, Mr. Layton!"

"Right away, sir!" Layton hastened to a telephone somewhere in the workshop.

"Miss Mizuno, help is on the way! Please stay with us!" Luke was on his knees, his hands on her shoulder. "Miss Mizuno!"

'Go…find Carolina….Coindar. Don't worry about me.'

"Please! Don't leave me!" Luke pleaded, tears filling his eyes.

'Why are you crying for me? Why are you the one panicking?'

Suzume slowly closed her eyes, falling into unconsciousness.

"Suzume!"

Luke calling her by her first name was the last thing she heard.

In an underground hideout, a bespectacled young woman with gray wavy hair and light brown eyes entered a bedroom. She wore a white blouse with a purple ribbon on the collar, a short black skirt, gray thigh-high socks, and a pair of black Mary Jane shoes. Her name was Reina Fujiwara.

"Boss."

"What is it?" Hiroaki glared at her.

"Albert had returned with Luke Triton's and Suzume Mizuno's robots."

"Good. Allowed the pest in."

Once Reina opened the door widely, Albert entered the bedroom, dragging an unconscious Coindar and Carolina in a net.

"Prepare those puzzles, Fujiwara," Hiroaki smirked. "Let the games begin."

[milfhawks]

1453 is the final word count of my super rough ramble. do you want it right here or do you want to be tagged?

either works but perhaps tagging would be easier? i’ll rt it ofc

[ao3feed-ncishawaii]

(Mostly) Confidential

by 828_ride_or_die Confidentiality is important to Kate. But Lucy doesn’t count, right? Words: 1453, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 21 of Kacytober 2023 Fandoms: NCIS: Hawai'i Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/F Characters: Lucy Tara, Kate Whistler Relationships: Lucy Tara/Kate Whistler Additional Tags: Confidential, but lucy doesn’t count via https://ift.tt/7rG9hpH

[mantisgodsdomain]

Finish It February, Day 26

Finish first loop of Nostalgia

Work on second loop of Nostalgia

Finish Febuwhump day 9 at the very minimum

Word Count Goal: 1453