#and writing them is me flailing blindly

[justabigassnerd]

Unexpected Bond

Pairing - Tim Bradford x teen!reader

Word count - 7,340

Warnings - inaccurate police stuff, injuries, blood, knives, hospitals, swearing, mentions of being harassed/made uncomfortable

Summary - while on patrol, Lucy and Tim help an injured teen and while tracking down her attacker, Tim finds out he has a protective, paternal side

Sequel - 'A Safe Home'

A/N - hey y'all! I know it's been a hot while since I wrote anything and I'm so truly sorry for that. but in binging The Rookie, I found myself wanting to write something for Tim Bradford and so this came to light and so I'm posting it as a test (a Tim Test if you will) to kinda gauge how y'all feel about me writing for a new fandom (again still not finished the show so please don't spoil). As per y'all please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

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

The sun was shining in Los Angeles as Tim Bradford and Lucy Chen drove around on patrol, eyes ever so often flicking around in search of illegal activity.

“Come on, you’re seriously not going to let me put the AC on? It’s so hot.” Lucy complains, fighting the urge to stick her head out of the window to get some relief from the sweltering heat inside the shop.

“You know the rules, Boot,” Tim says, sparing Lucy a brief side eye before focusing back on the road. Lucy lets out a slight huff, mentally reminding herself of how much longer she has to obey Tim’s rules before she becomes a P2. Before Lucy could open her mouth to reply in a last-ditch effort to convince Tim to put the AC on, a woman runs out of the nearby park, arms waving wildly and calling out towards the police cruiser.

“We need help!” At the woman’s yells, Tim pulls over, both him and Lucy getting out of the shop as soon as the engine has been turned off before hurrying over to the woman.

“What’s the problem?” Tim asks, a neutral and level tone to his voice to not cause any more panic. In response, the woman begins leading Tim and Lucy into the park, going on a tangent about how she’d been on her morning jog when she stumbled across something she thought was suspicious at first. One glance at Tim and Lucy could tell his patience was wearing thin with the woman skirting around the issue.

“Ma’am, what did you find?” Lucy asks, already bracing herself for what she might find.

“I found this teenage girl curled up on the bench. I thought she was a junkie or homeless so I went to try and move her or something but… she’s bleeding.” The woman says, pointing out the teenage girl curled up on the bench, hand clamped on her side.

“Chen, radio for help.” Tim orders, grabbing his gloves and pulling them on as he approaches the bench, kneeling alongside it while he assesses the damage as best he can.

“Hey kid, can you hear me?” Tim tries, looking from the wound to your face, trying to see how responsive you are. He could tell your breathing was laboured and shallow so all he wanted to do now was treat the wound as best he could and keep you conscious. As Tim gently moves your hand away from your injury, you let out a slight moan of pain, attempting to curl further into yourself.

“I know. I’m sorry. I need to try and slow the bleeding.” Tim apologises softly, hand clamping down on your wound, bunching up the material of your shirt to act as a barrier to prevent any further blood loss. When you groaned in pain once more and blindly swatted at his hand, Tim used his teeth to pull the glove off his spare hand, dropping it on the floor and grabbing your flailing hand in his.

“Okay kid, just squeeze my hand when it hurts. Sound good?” Tim says, getting your response, squeezing his hand tightly, whimpering quietly. Since his plan to try and get you to talk to him wasn't working, though he could only blame the blood loss, he needed to do what he could to ensure you stayed conscious.

“Ambulance is on its way, ETA two minutes,” Lucy says, approaching Tim and watching as he tends to your wound.

“Can you make sure no one crowds around? Paramedics will need quick and easy access and it won’t be easy with these guys watching like it’s a damn circus. But if there is anyone who might know what happened, get a statement.” Tim mutters, aware of the forming crowd, phones in hand as they document the event like they were at a concert. With a nod, Lucy steps back and approaches the crowd, letting them know that the situation is being handled and that they need to get back to their own business.

After a couple of minutes, the ambulance pulls up, and the paramedics soon appear alongside Tim.

“She’s been bleeding since we found her and even before that. From the looks of things, it might be some kind of stab wound. She’s been virtually unresponsive besides squeezing my hand and making a few sounds. She’s definitely out of it because of the blood loss so she needs urgent attention.” Tim says, doing his best to explain the situation with the limited knowledge he had.

“Okay, we’ve got it from here.” One of the paramedics says, easing himself down alongside Tim to assess the damage. Tim carefully moved his hand away from the wound to let the paramedic get to work. As Tim moves to gently release your hand he feels you squeeze tighter as the paramedic begins to place a bandage over your wound to prevent further blood loss until you make it to the hospital.

“I’ve got to let go kid. The paramedics need to do their job.” Tim whispers, a softness to his tone that not many get to hear. At his words, your grip loosened enough for Tim to gently extract his hand before he stepped back, allowing the paramedics to get on with their job while he crossed to Lucy.

“Did anyone see anything?” Tim asks, standing in front of Lucy as he folds his arms and glances around.

“Nothing concrete. Most people around only saw her after she collapsed.” Lucy says defeatedly, closing her notebook and tucking her pen away.

“We’ll follow the ambulance to the hospital. Stick around until the kid’s in the clear and see if we can get a statement.” Tim says with a nod, already beginning to turn around and head back in the direction of their shop with Lucy hot on his heels, radioing control to let them know what they’re going to be doing. Once they get in the vehicle, Tim begins the drive to the hospital fighting the urge to speed the entire way.

To Lucy, it felt like they had gotten to the hospital in record time and she was nearly bursting at the seams to make a light joke about it to Tim but she also didn’t feel like being on the end of a death glare or being made to walk outside the shop while Tim drives. The two enter the hospital and after Tim questions a nurse about the teen girl just brought in, they’re given directions to the ward you’d be in and that you are currently being prepped for minor surgery to control any internal bleeding and Lucy didn’t miss the flash of worry that covered Tim’s face at the mere mention of surgery. The two made their way to where they had been directed and once they reached the waiting room, Lucy took a seat while Tim played the pacing game. Lucy could’ve sworn that Tim pestered the nurses almost a hundred times a minute about any updates regarding your surgery.

“Tim, they’ll let us know when we’re able to try and get a statement from her,” Lucy says, glancing up at Tim as he strides past her once more, stopping him in his tracks.

“I know that. I’m just… worried. Seeing a kid hurt is never easy. I just want to find out who did this to her so we can make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Tim says with a sigh, head bowing slightly before glancing over at Lucy who softens a little at her TO’s words. She knew he wasn’t always the hard-ass he presented himself to be in the station, but seeing him so worried about a teenager’s wellbeing was like seeing a whole new side to him. Before Lucy could speak once more, a nurse approached the two, making Lucy get up from her seat.

“Thank you for your patience officers. The surgery has gone smoothly and we’re transferring her to a room now. There will be a bit more of a wait until she comes around before a doctor will assess whether she’s in a good enough condition to be questioned. You’re free to continue your patrol if you wish and we can contact you when she’s ready.” The nurse says, addressing both Lucy and Tim who glance at each other after the nurse has finished talking.

“I think we’ll stick around, thanks,” Tim says with a polite yet curt nod towards the nurse, watching as she walks off before turning to face Lucy.

“What if we’re needed? We can be helping out on the streets and just wait for a call from the hospital before coming back to get a statement.” Lucy asks, looking up at Tim with a shocked and confused expression.

“Who’s in charge here, Boot? If they need us, they’ll radio us. For now, I’d rather wait here, get the kid's statement and stop this guy before another kid gets hurt.” Tim says firmly, resuming his pacing as Lucy sinks back into the uncomfortable waiting room chair, pulling out her phone and texting Jackson in the hope he’ll be able to respond.

After an hour and a half of Tim pacing back and forth and Lucy flipping between texting Jackson and scrolling through various social media, a nurse approaches the two again, stopping Tim in his tracks while Lucy shoves her phone in her pocket and stands up.

“She’s come around and the doctors have cleared her for you to take a statement. However, I will warn you she hasn’t been the most talkative so I don’t know how easy it’ll be to get anything out of her.” The nurse says, leading Tim and Lucy towards the room you have been moved to for recovery.

“Thank you. We’ve got it from here.” Tim says, reaching for the door handle to enter the room.

“Oh, one last thing. We haven’t managed to get a name out of her yet so if you manage to do that please let us know so we can contact whoever necessary.” The nurse quickly adds, making both Tim and Lucy nod before Tim pulls the door open and enters the room with Lucy close behind.

“Hey, kid. I’m Officer Tim Bradford and this is Officer Lucy Chen. We were the first responders on sight when you were found in the park.” Tim introduced both himself and Lucy, noting how shy and withdrawn you looked and made sure to take a gentler approach.

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember you guys…” You mumble sheepishly, fiddling with your fingers as your gaze flicks down to your hands to avoid eye contact. Truthfully, you had recognised Tim’s voice the second he started speaking. You don’t think you could ever forget a voice that made you feel so safe in the most terrifying moment of your life.

“Don’t apologise. You suffered a lot of blood loss so it’s understandable that you don’t remember everything. We’ve shared our names, can we get yours?” Tim asks, watching you quietly as you nod.

“It’s y/n. y/n l/n.” You say quietly, briefly glancing up at the two officers, noticing how Lucy noted down your name.

“Have you got any family we can contact?” Lucy asks, looking from her notebook to you as you shake your head.

“No family.” You admit, feeling heat creeping into your cheek as your gaze dropped once more and both Tim and Lucy exchanged a look at your admission.

“So, are you in a children’s home then?” Tim asks, fighting the urge not to frown when you nod your head, confirming his suspicions.

“If you could even call it that.” You mutter, causing Lucy to smoothly change the subject.

“Is there anything you can tell us about who stabbed you?” She asks, both officers noticing how your hand came to rest atop where your injury was.

“I didn’t see a face, he had a hood covering his face. It was the early hours of the morning and all I remember was a guy grabbing me and then the next thing I knew I was stabbed.” You explain, feeling useless that you couldn’t provide more to help.

“And did the stabbing happen in the park? Where we found you?” Tim enquires further, wanting to put together as many details as possible.

“No, I don’t think so. I haven’t been sleeping so well recently so I sneak out and go on walks in the morning to energise myself enough to get through the day. I don’t have a specific route on these walks so maybe… I don’t know.” You say, sighing lightly as you rack your brain for any memory of what happened to you.

“Maybe what?” Tim prods gently, wanting to get as much information as possible.

“The home I’m in really isn’t the best. Most of the kids there end up as drug dealers or in gangs. Maybe I walked onto some gang territory without realising it or maybe I stumbled across something I shouldn’t have I don’t know.” You mumble, trying to make sense of all the information in your head.

“Are you part of any gangs?” Lucy asks, not wanting to sound accusatory but needing an answer.

“No. Not at all. I’m probably the only teenager there who doesn’t get involved in any of that stuff.” You quickly clarify, shaking your head to exaggerate your point.

“But… I’m not the most popular kid in the home either. I wouldn’t be surprised if most of the kids tell their gang members it’s okay to mess with me.” You continue with a shrug, making Tim’s heart hurt at how small and defeated you look.

“Is there anything else you can remember from the stabbing? Anything that could help us identify your attacker?” Tim asks, folding his arms across his chest as he speaks.

“The guy said something, I can’t remember what. But he did have a crazy deep voice. I didn’t know someone could have a voice that deep. I’d probably be able to recognise his voice if I heard it again.” You recall, feeling like you’re scraping the barrel of your knowledge of what happened. At your words, Tim unfolds his arms, digging into his pocket for his card and crossing the room to hold the card out towards you.

“Thank you for your help. If you remember anything else feel free to give us a call.” Tim says with a soft smile, watching as you carefully extract the card from his hand, flipping it over a couple of times and studying the words on it as you nod lightly. As Tim and Lucy move to leave your hospital room you speak up.

“Officers. Thank you… for saving me.” You say, nervousness gripping your stomach as you talk. You knew you had nothing to feel nervous about, after all, they had saved your life.

“No need to thank us, kid. Just focus on getting better.” Tim says with a nod while Lucy bids you a soft goodbye before they both exit your hospital room.

“Okay, Chen we’re going to find out what home y/n is in and then we should scope out the area. Find out what we can about the kids that are in gangs.” Tim says as the two make their way through the hospital.

“And hopefully find someone with a deep enough voice that y/n recognises,” Lucy adds as they both get into the shop.

“I’m hoping we can track the guy down ourselves. I’d rather not have to drag the kid into this if I can help it.” Tim says, starting the engine and pulling out of the parking spot while Lucy busies herself with trying to find out what children's home you’re in. At Tim’s protective words, Lucy raises an eyebrow and smirks lightly.

“So all that talk about me adopting a puppy and you’ve gotten yourself one of your own.” She muses jokingly, watching as Tim glances at her out of the corner of his eyes.

“I did not adopt a puppy. This is a kid who was hurt and there’s a chance she could get hurt again if we don’t do something about it soon. I want to catch the guy who did this to her and get her someplace safe if this home is as bad as she’s making it out to be. You, however, felt bad for someone who stole your car.” Tim defends, trying not to let on how worried he truly is about you. Lucy, unconvinced by his words, nods and focuses her attention back to the computer. 

“We’ve got a location of the home. Let’s head over there.” Lucy reports, giving Tim the address and beginning to do further background research as Tim begins driving in the direction of the children’s home. The drive didn’t take long from the park where they had found you and as they neared, both Tim and Lucy began to understand why you had said it wasn’t a good home.

The children’s home was located in a run-down area, just one look around the neighbourhood and anyone could tell that crime thrives in it. Just the mere presence of Tim and Lucy was already garnering them weird looks as they parked outside of the children’s home and exited their shop, crossing to the front door and knocking on it before taking a step back to wait for someone to open the door.

“What do you want?” The door is thrown open and Tim comes face to face with a short man who quickly notices Tim and Lucy’s uniforms and straightens up.

“Sorry. What can I do for you officers?” He amends his words, painting on a large smile that anyone could tell was fake.

“I’m Officer Bradford and this is Officer Chen. May we come in?” Tim asks, already beginning to make his way towards the door as the man holds it open to allow them both in.

“Let’s talk in my office. I’m Stan.” He introduces himself and leads the two towards his office, a small murky room piled high with paperwork.

“A teenager who is in your care, y/n l/n, was found stabbed in the park not too far from here. Do you have any idea who might’ve done this to her?” Lucy begins as Stan takes his seat behind his desk.

“y/n was stabbed? That’s a real shame.” Stan says, making Tim cock an eyebrow at his faux sincerity.

“She’s in the hospital recovering from her injuries. Again, do you know of anyone who might like to hurt her? She mentioned that a lot of the kids around here wind up involved with gangs. Do any of them have reason to hurt her?” Tim asks, watching as Stan shrugs lightly.

“If I’m honest, the kid was an easy target. She’s been here since she was practically a baby so being the longest-running kid in the home is bound to put a little bit of a target on your back.” Stan says nonchalantly, leaning back in his chair while Lucy notices Tim clench his jaw.

“So you’re telling us you allowed those kids to pick on her just because she was an ‘easy target’ in your eyes?” Lucy asks, hoping that somehow she was wrong in how she interpreted Stan’s words.

“I know who those kids hang out with. I’m not looking to put myself in the line of fire for her.” At Stan’s words, Tim was unable to hold himself back from an outburst.

“You willingly let kids bully y/n because you were scared of the company they keep? Maybe they wouldn’t go out running around in gangs if you looked after the kids that are supposed to be in your care.” Tim says lowly, edging closer to the desk and bracing his hands on it, leaning closer to Stan to get his point across.

“Tim, let’s not do this. Stan, if you think of anything that might help us find y/n’s attacker, give us a call.” Lucy says, gently guiding Tim away from the desk before placing a card down on the desk and leading Tim out of the building.

“y/n is not going back there. I won’t let her.” Tim says the moment they leave the home, practically seething with rage as he makes his way back to the shop.

“I know this home clearly has some serious issues but you won’t be able to just up and move her as easily as you might think,” Lucy says, getting into the vehicle as Tim starts the engine.

“I’ll find a way. I’ll find the ass that hurt her. Find a way to prove Stan doesn’t give a shit about the kids in his care and then I’ll make sure y/n has someplace safe to go to once she’s out of hospital.” Tim says as if he held all the answers in his newly formed plan.

“Okay, you’re getting worked up about this so let’s take lunch and talk this all through. We’ll try and come up with a game plan to find the guy who hurt y/n and after that, we’ll tackle the other problem.” Lucy says calmly, doing what she can to make sure Tim relaxes, knowing he couldn’t go around the neighbourhood with this attitude. At her words, Tim lets out a long sigh before nodding and beginning to drive in the direction of someplace to get food.

After finding a place to have some lunch, Lucy and Tim sit down opposite each other and begin to talk through the minimal facts they have about the case so far.

“She was stabbed in the morning, I’d assume maybe an hour or so before we found her.” Lucy starts, consulting her notebook.

“But she wasn’t stabbed at the park so we can assume she walked from where she was stabbed to the park. Maybe she was looking for help.” Tim says, lifting his drink to take a sip.

“We could radio the unit that arrived on scene after we left and see if there are any blood trails that might help us find where the stabbing happened. Maybe the attacker tried to ditch the weapon nearby.” Lucy muses, leaning back against her chair as she thinks.

“If it’s a gang member I doubt they’d be stupid enough to leave the weapon nearby. But then again there’s always the chance so it might be worth a try.” Tim admits, finishing his food and downing his drink while Lucy does the same. As they dispose of their trash, Tim’s phone rings, making him dig it out of his pocket to answer it while Lucy waits.

“Hello?” He answers.

“Officer Bradford, is that you?” Your quiet voice comes through the other end of the phone, timid as if you were afraid of bothering him.

“y/n, is everything okay?” Tim asks, an instant bout of worry gripping him.

“I’m sorry if I called at a bad time I just… I remembered something about the attack and I don’t know if it’ll help.” You say, and Tim can hear the worry and fear in your voice of potentially being an inconvenience to him.

“No, you’re fine. I’ll swing by the hospital and you can tell me about what it is you remember. Does that sound good?” Tim says gently, doing his best to reassure you over the phone.

“Okay.” You whisper before hanging up the phone and leaving Tim to turn to Lucy.

“Was that y/n?” Lucy asks, studying Tim’s reaction carefully.

“Yeah. She said she remembered some stuff about the attack.” Tim says, shoving his phone in his pocket and making his way towards the shop while Lucy follows behind.

“Do you think this information will help us find her attacker?” Lucy asks as she gets in the passenger seat.

“I don’t know. I didn’t want to pressure her. But we’ll do what we can with it.” Tim says, starting the engine and beginning the drive, once again, to the hospital.

When they arrived at the hospital, they headed straight to the room you were in and knocked on the door before letting themselves in upon receiving your permission.

“You came.” You said, the smallest, shy smile on your face when you realised that they had come when you asked and both officers had noticed the notebook and pencil you had in hand.

“Of course,” Tim says with a nod and a gentle smile.

“You like drawing?” Lucy asks gently, moving to sit on one of the nearby chairs, easing herself down gently as you shake your head lightly.

“Not really. I just remembered one detail about the guy who attacked me and I figured it would be best if I try to draw it.” You admit, attempting to tidy up the rough sketch on the paper.

“What was the detail?” Tim then asks, easing down into the other chair as they both watch you quietly.

“The guy who attacked me had a scar that looked like this on his hand.” You say, flipping the paper around and showing it to Tim and Lucy.

“That looks like…” Lucy begins.

“A brand.” Tim finishes, glancing from the paper to you as you nod.

“There’s a kid in the home I’m in, Kevin, he’s always acted really weird around me and even asked me out a few times despite knowing how uncomfortable he makes me. I know he’s part of this gang and all the members are branded somewhere on their bodies. I know Kevin definitely wasn’t the guy who stabbed me but I think he asked one of the other members of his gang to hurt me.” You explain as Lucy takes the sketch from you, studying it closely.

“This Kevin, has he ever threatened to hurt you to your face?” Tim asks, already fighting back the seething rage beginning to build up.

“Never outright. But the last time I rejected him he did tell me that I’d regret it.” You say, remembering that moment from a couple of nights ago.

“And did he ever… do anything else?” Tim enquires further, hoping for a specific answer while preparing himself for the worst.

“No. I don’t know if he ever would’ve tried anything, but growing up in that home meant I knew where all the best places to lay low were when he did get extra clingy. And I also try to spend as much time out of the home and away from that neighbourhood as possible.” You explain, fiddling with the corner of the cover laid across you.

“So you believe he told a member of that gang to hurt you because you wouldn’t date him?” Lucy clarifies, feeling her heart break when you nod.

“Okay, we’re going to try to find that kid and talk to him about this gang of his,” Tim states, moving to stand up and exit the room with Lucy following behind.

“Wait!” Your desperate cry stops Tim in his tracks, making him turn to face you.

“What’s wrong?” Tim asks, worried as to why you had reacted like that.

“Don’t tell Kevin or anyone I told you about this. If they find out I squealed… I don’t know what they’ll do to me.” You say, vaguely hearing the increased beeping coming from the heart monitor in your panicked state.

“Hey, y/n, take some deep breaths for me, okay?” Tim quickly strides across the room to you, placing his hands on your shoulders and getting you to look up at him. He takes a few exaggerated deep breaths which you mimic shakily, each breath coming smoother than the last until you’ve regained control of your breathing and your heartbeat has begun to settle into a steady rhythm once more.

“That’s it, kid, just like that.” Tim then praises gently as he feels the tension leaving your shoulders, giving them a light squeeze before releasing his grip. As Tim lets go, you lift your hand to wipe at your suddenly watery eyes, trying not to flinch at the slight pain from the movement.

“We won’t tell anyone there about what you told us. I promise.” Lucy says, knowing that the number one rule of being a police officer was that they couldn’t promise anything but seeing how Tim nodded lightly in agreement confirmed that this was one promise that they could make.

“We’ll go and try and find information. But we won’t mention you at all. They won’t know you told us. Promise.” Tim assures you, stepping back and joining Lucy by the door.

“Hang tight, y/n. We’ll stop that guy.” Lucy says with a soft smile, folding up the sketch she still had in hand and putting it in her pocket with your permission before both she and Tim exit your hospital room, making their way back to their shop to go in search of further answers. They make their way back to the neighbourhood of the children’s home and instead of heading to the children’s home, they do a walk around the area, both of them noticing how people watch them carefully, wary of what they might do.

“Someone around here has to be a part of that gang y/n was talking about, right?” Lucy asks quietly, walking alongside Tim as they observe their surroundings.

“I’d put money on it. But we can’t exactly go up to them and ask. We have to be subtle.” Tim says, noticing how they were beginning to approach two teenage boys who were leaning against a wall, talking amongst themselves.

“Don’t usually get cops around here.” One of the teenagers says, loud enough for Tim and Lucy to hear, making them exchange a quick look before they turn to face the teens.

“We’re patrolling the area. Got a problem?” Tim accuses, folding his arms across his chest as he stares down at the two teenagers.

“Patrolling for what?” The other asks, both of them clearly unafraid of Tim and Lucy’s presence.

“There’s been some incidents around here and we just wanted to make sure everything was okay.” Lucy lies easily, hands resting on her belt as her eyes flick between the two boys.

“Are you accusing us of what happened with that bitch this morning?” One of the teens suddenly becomes accusatory, making Lucy raise her eyebrows in slight shock at the tone.

“No one’s accusing you of anything. In fact, neither of us mentioned an incident this morning. Is there anything you can tell us about it?” Tim then asks cooly, noticing how the teens twitch a little in their realisation about being caught out.

“It wasn’t us.” One of them says, instantly on the defensive, his voice harsh.

“We’re not saying it is you. We’re simply asking if you know anything.” Lucy says, holding a hand out to try and calm the tension she could sense building.

“We don’t know anything.” The other teen says, both of them then turning on their heels and stalking off somewhere else.

“As suspicious as that was. They didn’t do it.” Tim states, letting out a soft sigh and watching them walk away.

“Neither of them had a deep voice. At least not one matching y/n’s description. But did you see-”

“One of them had the brand on his arm. We’re definitely in the right place.” Tim finishes, eyes flicking around the streets in search of other people to question.

“Can I help you, officers? I’m Toby.” A deep voice comes from behind Tim and Lucy, making them exchange a look before they turn to face the owner of the voice. They quickly came face to face with someone who looked to be in his early twenties, he was not much shorter than Tim and they could only assume he did a lot of heavy lifting with how he was built.

“There was a stabbing this morning. A girl about fifteen years old was the victim. Do you know anything about it?” Tim asks smoothly, not showing any signs of suspicion as he watches Toby’s reaction.

“A stabbing? I haven’t heard anything about it.” He says, shrugging lightly before folding his arms across his chest, displaying the brand that you had described on his hand.

“Nothing at all?” Lucy prompts, glancing from Toby to Tim who nods the slightest amount.

“Nothing.” Toby confirms.

“That’s funny. We did some investigating and apparently her attacker was part of the same gang with those exact brands. According to some people we spoke to, the attacker had a deep voice and had a branding scar on his hand. Would you like to revise your answer?” Lucy says, staring down Toby whose calm and collected look shifts and soon a knife is being brandished towards the two of them, making Tim grab Lucy’s arm and pull her behind him.

“She should’ve thought twice before she turned down Kevin. The bitch just got what she deserved.” He says angrily, knife pointed directly at Tim to keep them at a distance.

“I think she’s well within her rights to turn someone down if she doesn’t like them,” Tim says calmly, not wanting to aggravate him any more.

“Kevin is my bro and I’ll look out for him like he’s my own family. If that means getting rid of some bitch who won’t date him then that’s what I’ll do.” Toby says, making Tim clench his jaw.

“Alright. I’ve heard enough.” Tim states, fed up and angered by what he’s been hearing. Without warning, Tim lunged forward, grabbing Toby’a wrist, and twisting it until the knife clattered to the floor before pinning his arm behind his back. Tim then pulls his handcuffs out of his belt and handcuffs his hands together while Lucy radios control to let them know of the situation.

“Grab the knife,” Tim instructs Lucy, already pushing Toby towards the shop while Lucy does what she’s asked. The closer they get to the shop, the more Tim becomes aware of the pairs of eyes watching them. He gets Toby into the shop then both Tim and Lucy get into the front seats.

“Are we going to let y/n know we got the guy?” Lucy asks, briefly glancing back at Toby before looking at Tim who nods lightly.

“Once we’ve processed this asshole I’m going to head back over to the hospital and let her know we’ve caught the guy,” Tim says, starting the engine and beginning the drive over to the station.

“That’s good. I think it’ll be good for her to know.” Lucy agrees, nodding slightly and focusing her attention on the passing scenery.

“You’re wasting an awful lot of time focusing on her. What makes her so important?” Toby grumbles from the backseat.

“No one asked for your input. You and that other kid are the reason she’s in this mess in the first place.” Tim says angrily, eyes flicking up to the rearview mirror to glare at him. The rest of the journey back to the station was relatively quiet, with Toby attempting to speak up every so often, only to be silenced by Tim’s silent glare.

When they made it to the station, Tim and Lucy processed Toby as quickly as possible, practically shoving him into one of the cells the moment they were able to and finish up the paperwork in record time.

“Are you coming with me or not, Boot?” Tim asks, already making his way back towards the shop after finishing processing.

“I’m coming,” Lucy says, rushing to Tim’s side, both of them get back in their shop and make their way back to the hospital. Upon arrival, the hospital seemed much quieter, meaning Tim and Lucy didn’t have to swerve through seas of people to make their way to your room. When they reach your room, they knock once more and enter with permission, both of them smiling at you as they walk in.

“We’ve got some good news,” Lucy says with a smile, noticing how your eyes lit up the slightest bit at her words.

“We apprehended the person who hurt you. He’s not going to get near you again.” Tim says, his smile matching Lucy’s as you smile at their words.

“Thank you.” You whisper, fighting back the threat of teary eyes as the relief sets in.

“We’re just doing our jobs. No need to thank us.” Lucy says softly, approaching the bed and taking your hand in hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m going to open an investigation into the home. See if I can get it closed or something. Or at the very least get you moved somewhere else so you don’t have to deal with that Kevin anymore.” Tim adds, watching as you look from Lucy to him.

“You don’t need to do that.” You start.

“I do. Nothing about that place is safe for you. Even when we do get the okay to arrest Kevin, that home isn’t a stable or safe environment for you. So I want to do what I can to help you out.” Tim says, smoothly cutting you off and stepping closer to your bedside, his gaze soft as he looks down at you.

“I don’t want you guys potentially getting hurt on my behalf.” You mumble, wiping at your eyes with your free hand to prevent any tears from falling.

“Let us worry about ourselves. All you have to do is worry about getting better. We’ll handle everything else.” Tim says reassuringly, his gentle smile calming and encouraging as you take some deep breaths to calm down.

“I owe you both so much.” You say gratefully after you’ve calmed down, smiling shyly at your saviours.

“You don’t owe us anything. We were just doing our jobs.” Lucy says softly, her smile still as gentle as ever. The three of you continued to converse for a few more minutes, both Tim and Lucy noticing how you became more confident in talking to them, but Lucy had noticed how you were more comfortable with Tim. And she hadn’t missed how Tim had practically switched into a whole new man around you. He was much softer and fatherly towards you. After a few minutes, Tim notices the time on his watch and sighs lightly.

“We should head out,” Tim says regrettably, glancing over at Lucy who nods softly.

“Look after yourself y/n,” Lucy says as they cross to the door.

“If I don’t die of boredom first. There’s nothing to do here.” You say with a light chuckle, lying back in the bed and staring up at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry, kid. I’m sure if you ask a nurse they could find you something to do.” Tim says apologetically, offering the best solution he could think of at the moment before both he and Lucy bid you goodbye and head out to finish the rest of their shifts.

The rest of their shift went smoothly, the only crimes they encountered being things like reckless driving and noise complaints. By the time they had made it back to the station for the end of their shift, Tim wanted to input his request for an investigation into the children’s home you had spent your life in. He wasn’t usually picky about which detectives might take his investigation requests but he wanted to make sure Angela picked up this case. He knew she’d keep him in the loop and let him help out if he wanted. After talking to Angela and getting her on board with looking into the home, Tim thanked her and then headed out to his truck.

On his way back to his house, Tim drove past a store, pulled into the car park and found someplace to park after remembering he needed to pick up a few things. He entered the store, grabbing the things he needed before stumbling across a book aisle in the store. He stood in front of the aisle for a few moments before letting out a soft sigh, digging into his pocket for his phone and stepping into the aisle.

Unbeknownst to Tim, Lucy had also entered the store five minutes after he did, not even aware that Tim was there. She browsed the aisles, searching for what she and Jackson needed until she also found herself by the book aisle. She looked up the aisle and saw Tim standing in front of a selection of books. One hand holding a book, the other holding his phone as he studied the screen intently.

“Looking for book recommendations?” Lucy asks, chuckling to herself when Tim jumps, head whipping around and visibly relaxing upon realising it is Lucy talking to him.

“I was just- y/n mentioned she was bored so I thought I’d grab her a couple of books to give her tomorrow so she can pass the time until she’s out of the hospital,” Tim says, showing Lucy his phone and how he’d been looking up popular books for your age group to pick out the best ones for you.

“Here, let me help.” Lucy offers, taking the book from Tim’s hand, inspecting it quietly before nodding and putting it in Tim’s basket before plucking another book off the shelf, and handing it to Tim to judge after reading the blurb herself.

“You know… you could foster y/n if you wanted.” Lucy says softly after Tim puts the book back, and grabs another to look at.

“What?” Tim asks, no anger behind his voice, but confusion.

“You’re really good with her. It’s clear you care about her and she’s comfortable with you. Fostering her would keep her out of the home while the investigation is ongoing. Plus it would keep her safe and away from that neighbourhood.” Lucy explains herself, watching as Tim falls silent, putting the book he had in his hand in his basket.

“I don’t know. My career isn’t the safest thing in the world and I don’t want someone to potentially use her to get to me.” Tim explains with a sigh.

“I get that. It’s your choice. But she definitely feels safer with you than anyone else.” Lucy says softly, offering Tim one last book before turning on her heels to make her way through the rest of the store, leaving Tim alone.

When Tim gets home, he’s greeted by Kojo who rushes over to Tim happily, demanding to get attention which Tim is more than happy to provide. Once Kojo trots off, happy to entertain himself while Tim unpacks the things he bought. As he unpacks, he sets aside the two books he and Lucy had picked out for you, as well as a few packets of candy and chocolates. Tim was sure he was going overboard but he wanted to make sure that what was left of your hospital stay was pleasant.

After organising everything, Tim makes himself dinner, making sure to feed Kojo while he waits for his food to cook. Once his food is ready, Tim sits himself down to eat and watch the football game he’d been waiting to watch all day. However, as he watched the game, he found himself distracted by the option Lucy had brought up to him at the store. He knew she was right, he couldn’t deny how much he had come to care for you in a short period of time. But he also didn’t want to risk bringing more harm to you through his job. Tim’s focus on the football game began to dwindle as he debated the idea of fostering you back and forth in his head. As if he could sense Tim’s dilemma, Kojo approached Tim, hopping up onto the sofa and resting his head on Tim’s leg, letting out a soft whine while Tim pets his head. Eventually, Tim concluded his internal debate as he was putting his dirty dishes in the dishwasher. Upon finally concluding, Tim grabbed his laptop and returned to the sofa, settling down alongside Kojo once more, opening it and typing in one simple question.

‘How to foster a child?’

[xiaoddexingjiutang]

03. Megatron: Megatron Is No Mere Subordinate

In this film, Megatron's character is entirely crafted as the opposite of Optimus Prime: Optimus plays dumb while Megatron provides the snarky commentary. He doesn't resemble any previous version of Megatron at all.

He gives off a vibe of having a very weak spirit. When circumstances favor him, and Optimus takes him to participate in the Iacon 5000 race, he has a great time. When he's happy, he and Optimus become like brothers—"you're good, I'm good, everyone's good." They exchange heartfelt lines and high-fives. But the moment he's asked to take on some responsibility or when things aren't going their way and they have to face adversity, he immediately starts complaining, accusing Optimus of only thinking about himself.

Personally, I feel that when making friends, one should focus on the big picture and not be petty about small matters. You enjoyed the perks of breaking the rules and had your fun, but then you start blaming others, saying, "Oh no, we're definitely going to get caught and demoted." Then why did you do it? Why befriend him in the first place? You can't deny your involvement when things go wrong, right? Even though you did help clean up the mess—that's Optimus's problem, which I'll discuss in his section next.

After learning the truth, he actually said weakly, "If only I didn't know the truth, if only I had always strictly followed the rules. Why did I have to find out? Now I don't have a cog, and I'm powerless to change anything."

Then he becomes weak and later turns extreme. After killing the first person, he immediately starts yelling at Optimus, giving him attitude—as if he suddenly grasped the secret that violence equals power.

Some people who dislike Megatron might think he's selfish, someone who only enjoys the benefits of friendship and kicks you aside when he's uncomfortable. Whatever, that's not the point. The point isn't whether he's self-serving or altruistic; his character inherently leans toward self-interest. That's really not the issue.

The issue is that he absolutely shouldn't be portrayed as someone who is both weak and critical, narrow-minded, lacking independent thought, blindly following rules, a fair-weather friend, and passive yet extreme. In all previous works, Megatron has his own charisma and character foundation; he's not just a subordinate used to elevate Optimus Prime.

Writing Megatron's character this way is just a means to pin all the blame on him. This way, issues like class, social background, and even Optimus Prime can bear less responsibility. He inherently has personality flaws, so who can you blame? Sacrifice one so we can all relax.

Moreover, it's laughable how Megatron can't compete when it comes to "background". Megatron installs the cog of Megatronus (which he took from Sentinel Prime's chest) and becomes a leader-class body, but he still can't defeat Optimus Prime, who received the Matrix of Leadership. His gun gets sliced by Optimus's axe—Optimus summons an axe, but Megatron doesn't bring out his flail; I guess we'll have to wait for the next installment. "My backing can't beat your backing, so the righteous you defeats the evil me"—utterly ridiculous.

Additionally, I suddenly realized that if Megatron were replaced with a female character, these criticisms would have a new explanation: "Oh, women are just emotional, women are just troublesome, women can't see how much men have done." All those negative personality traits—if a man has them, it's just his individual issue; if a woman displays them, then it gets blamed on her gender because "women are all like that."

Straight male writers wanting to hype up the Megatron x Optimus Prime (MegOp) pairing feel the need to eliminate female characters or feminize male ones, insisting on using traditional heterosexual models.

[tickle-bugs]

For the writing thingie, maybe ler!Robin lee!Steve? The phrase could be “Steve, don’t make me sit on you again…”

your honor, they are everything to me. hope u enjoy!! still trying to figure out robin tbh

Under Covers

Robin leans her bike against the garage, careful not to scrape. Steve’s home--his car sits idle in the driveway, waiting patiently to ferry them both to Family Video. They’re already late, technically, but they’re not late late yet. 

An argument could be made that she could simply bike to work, admonishing Steve from the high horse of punctuality, but that’s no fun.

She jiggles her key in the lock and throws the door open, dumping her bag by the door. It’s quiet and dark downstairs, the kitchen unused, neither of which are a good sign. Steve’s usually a morning person, but on the days where he isn’t, he has to be surgically removed from sleep. It’s a coin toss, really, if he’s late over his hair or late for oversleeping and his hair. 

She inhales as much as her lungs can manage, then: “Steeeeeeevvvvveeeeee!”

No response. She scowls. 

She helps herself to a glass of orange juice and promptly rinses the glass, never one to make extra work for Steve when possible. Bothering him, yes, but inconveniencing him? Not if she can help it.

She thumps up the stairs two at a time. Steve’s bedroom door is cracked open when she gets there, exposing the comically lumpy mass of blankets on his bed and the upsetting pile of laundry in not one, but two corners of the room. Robin has half a mind to do a running jump onto the bed, but he’s gotten way too good at convincing her to take pre-work naps. They need this job. Unfortunately. 

“Steve. Steven. Steeb.” Robin leans in the doorframe, biting her lip on an affectionate smile. Steve’s hair pokes out just at the top of the blanket pile. 

“Don’t make me sit on you,” She says a little louder, moving over to the left side of the bed. Steve wrinkles his nose and makes a grumbly noise. 

“Three, two--”

“Bobin?” He mumbles, squinting at her. 

She pounces. He screams, muffled by the blanket, but then he tumbles into wild giggles and flails for purchase. 

“Get up, get up, get up!” She squeezes at his sides through the blanket, feeling around blindly but knowing intimately where to strike. His arms fly free of the blanket and he starts grappling with her, trying to poke at her like the bastard he is, but she’s on a goddamn mission. Either they’re getting to work on time (unlikely) or he’s going to die (still on the table). 

“Get. up.” She starts tickling his ribs, sliding up under his arms every time he tries to swat at her. Steve honest-to-god snorts, which she didn’t know he could do. She catalogues it for later. 

“W-Why--Ah, Robin, nohoho!” Steve whines and covers his face. She starts poking at his stomach, speeding up whenever he tries to grab her. His laughter revs like an engine. He twists away suddenly, curling up on his side and as close to the edge of the bed as he can physically get. Robin chuckles at him and tazers his side. He makes no sense. Only Steve would forfeit all the empty space in his bed rather than use it to escape. 

“We’re late, dingus!” She reaches back and squeezes his thigh. He shrieks like his life depends on it, voice cracking around his laughter in that way she loves. 

“I’m up!” Steve wheezes, lunging forward to grab her wrists. She squeezes again and he crumples into the mattress, throwing his head back against the pillows. He tries to say her name, or possibly curse at her, but all that comes out is a jumble of syllables and frantic, nervous giggles. 

“No, if you were up, you’d be getting ready.”  She pauses, just to prove her point. Steve pushes his hair out of his face and fixes her with the bitchiest look he can manage. She grins. He scowls. 

“I’ll drag you out of bed if I have to.” She crosses her arms. When he wriggles down into the bed like an indignant little worm, he earns her wrath. It’s only natural. She’s given him an out and a half. Robin feels around under the blanket and grabs Steve’s ankle, skittering her nails over the curve of his heel and up. It’s a fast track to a black eye, but she’s gotten quicker lately. 

There’s a screechy peal of laughter, then a thump--a loud one, and not from Steve’s side. Robin peers over the right side of the bed, feeling for the nearest pillow to defend herself from whatever creatures might lurk in here. 

Instead, she finds Eddie Munson. His hair’s a mess, more so than usual, and his face is bright pink. He’s oddly jittery.

“What.” Robin and Eddie blink at each other. She looks down at her hand, clutched around what is decidedly not Steve’s foot, then back up at Eddie. He gives her a sheepish wave. 

“Oh my god.” She drops Eddie’s ankle. Eddie. Here. In Steve’s bed.

“Robin--” Steve holds his hands out soothingly. 

“Oh my god.” She drops her head in her hands.  

“Is that a good ‘oh my god’ or do I need to change my locks?” Eddie asks from somewhere beside her. He climbs back up onto the bed and drops beside her. The mattress dips to accept him. 

“Still deciding,” She groans. Steve rubs her back, murmuring something soft and sickeningly fond in Eddie’s direction. She’s happy for Steve--god, she’s over the fucking moon for him, really. She teases him because someone needs to, but her heart swells knowing there was a resolution to all the yearning passing between the two of them. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. I should’ve been the first to know!” Robin smacks Steve’s bare chest. He catches her hand. 

“Well, you’re like the third to know.” Robin glares at him, but Steve throws his hands up in surrender. “Kidding! Third, because me and Eddie. Honestly, Rob, we were gonna tell you.”

“We’re, uhm, still figuring it out.” Eddie nudges her shoulder, but his shmoopy eyes are firmly on Steve. Gross. 

“Alright, well…I have questions. So many questions. But first--” She pokes his chest as aggressively as possible. Eddie copies her, hitting Steve’s stomach instead. 

“Up, yes, I knohow--” Steve’s voice breaks on a giggle. He crumples awkwardly into Robin, twisting away from Eddie. Robin’s tempted to help, but she leans away from Steve to give Eddie more access. Drama’s more fun, anyhow. Steve doesn’t laugh nearly enough. 

“No--” Steve points accusingly at Eddie. Eddie only grins wider in response. 

“You’ve given me a tremendous gift, Buckley!” Eddie cackles, wiggling his fingers into Steve’s sides. Steve yelps and bolts, managing to skid in the bathroom and slam the door before Eddie can vault over the bed. Robin and Eddie both chuckle. 

“Sorry if I helped make you late,” Eddie says, fiddling with the edge of the blanket. A devious little idea grows in the back of her head.

“Yeah, you did.” She lunges at him with an evil laugh. Eddie squeaks and tries to scramble away, but Robin’s on him already, heart growing three sizes at the now-pair of dinguses she’d never choose to live without. 

[lilmissnatcat24]

wip wednesday

the queen herself tagged me @milkywayes thank you!!!! i've been struggling to finish this scene for weeks now like i know what i need to write but every time i sit and stare at my page for like an hour and then close my screen. so thanks for this queen i might actually get it finished today!!!

Ahead of Shepard, just in front of her quarters, she saw the outline of three people. They just stood there, as if dumbfounded by the great big cloud that was barreling towards them. “Go!” Shepard managed to yell out, despite her lungs screaming in agony. “Get inside!”  But when they turned to Shepard, she stopped, as if an invisible string had yanked her firmly backwards. They weren’t colonists-- at least, they weren’t anymore. Gray, sallow skin hung around eyes that glowed bright blue. Mouths perpetually opened in a groan had sets of teeth and long tongues spilling outwards like the mouth of a thresher. Their shoulders hunched, their fingers elongated into spiky points that looked like they could gouge out eyes and slit throats. They looked at Shepard, frozen in place, as they started towards her.  “Fuck,” she whispered to herself. She had no weapons on her, nothing other than her biotics. And she didn’t quite care for the idea of close combat, not with those fingers that looked like they’d been replaced by blades. She looked around wildly for something to defend herself, but there was nothing apart from metal picnic tables and scraps of cloth blowing uselessly in the raging wind. “Fuck.”  Shepard punched the air in front of her, biotics crackling as her throw hit one of the husks square in the chest. It flew like a ragdoll until the side of its head made contact with the corner of one of the buildings ahead, flopping on the ground like a fish out of water. She felt already the draining of her energy, the sinking of her shoulders. She and Kaidan would still drill their biotics with the other handfuls of colonists, but she wasn’t nearly as trained as she would like to have been. Mix that with the fact that she was starving and slightly hungover, and she knew she only had a few more good punches in her until her biotics flickered away from her body in whisps.  The other two husks didn’t seem perturbed in the slightest, their gait widening to a gallop as they screamed at Shepard, unearthly and sickening. “Come on,” she muttered to herself, her eyes fixed on their feet waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. “Come on.”  Shepard pounded on the ground the moment both of the husks’ feet hit the road at the same time, sending a shockwave in their direction. Both of them tumbled, one falling on its back and flailing like a breached roach, the other stumbling on its hands and knees. She ran towards that husk, and with every ounce of power she could muster Shepard stomped downwards onto the back of its head, ignoring the splatter of blood that now painted her face.  She had no time to admire her work. She heard the whoosh of movement just behind her, then a stinging sensation on her shoulder. Shepard elbowed back blindly, making contact with some bony part of the only husk still standing. It did very little to stop the husk from attacking. It swung its arms violently around, almost like a windmill, in an attempt to strike any bit of Shepard’s skin. She blocked the blows, but with the warm gush of blood she felt down the back of her shoulder down to where her belt was buckled, each move became more and more sluggish. Shepard expended the rest of her energy to throw up a singularity field behind the husk. But it was so weak that it did very little other than tossel her hair before pettering out of existence.  The husk fell in a heap at her feet. Shepard looked around wildly, confused. If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought it was a gunshot. But it couldn’t have been that, because there was no one on Horizon who was that good of a marksman, including herself and Kaidan. And yet there the husk laid, newly dead via a hole in the head, right where its temple would have been. Taking a few mighty gulps of air, Shepard backed away tentatively before breaking into a sprint once more. 

i never ever ever know who to tag for this so if you want to participate please do!!! no pressure!!!! @dispatchwithlove @serendipitys-teapot @teamdilf

[chaoswithinstars]

I can take you [K. Bakugo]

Tw: suggestive at some parts, silly, actually very bad, I cannot write for shit

You were always one that would go beyond when challenged or dared. You just couldn't back down or give up until you've done it. Truth or dare was always a bad experience but you've pushed through with pride and not a smidge of embarrassment.

"I could take you in a fight." Famous last words, especially when said to one of top heroes like your boyfriend. Katsuki simply raised an eyebrow, giving you an unimpressed look. "I so could."

"No, I don't think you can. You're so…" Katsuki smirks, giving you a slow once over, taking in all of you before meeting your eyes with his. "Soft. And short."

You being you, of course you rushed him, knocking into him with your shoulder, arms wrapped around his lower waist. You pushed with all your might, legs locking as your feet slid over the floor. A grunt left your lips and you felt more than heard Katsuki laugh as you tried your best, sweating after just a few minutes of struggle. You felt him shift then his arms were around your hips and waist, raising you up with envious ease, your legs flailing before you hooked them blindly over his shoulders and knocking your foot against his head in the process.

"The floor is very close, honey." Your voice went high pitched as you spoke, fingers gripping onto his pockets as you stared down at his feet.

"I won't drop you." He replies, raising you higher and leaning his chin on the apex of your legs to look at you. It would've been sexy if you weren't bracing for a concussion. "I'm not weak."

"Please, let me down." You groan, feeling the blood rush into your head and palms start to sweat.

"I'm disappointed." He drawls, voice mocking and pushing your buttons. You manage to look up, giving him a lovely view of your frown, flushed face and double chin. "I thought my girl had more fight in her."

"Oh, you bitch." You breathe, eyes wide then squinting as you struggle to pull yourself upward, using his clothes as holds. "I'll get you. I'll fucking get you."

You barely notice the support your back is getting, too focused on getting closer to wipe that infernal smirk off his face until you're practically sitting on his shoulders and looking down at him as you struggle for breath. That's when you realize he's helping you stay upright, his hold on you secure as he grins at you almost ferally.

"Hi." You grin down at him, fingers in his hair and legs tight around his neck. "You come here often?"

"I do." Katsuki grins, voice just a tad suggestive, baring his teeth and takes a bite at your thigh, pretty eyes glaring up at you from between your legs. You have to admit, it's hot. Despite the fact that you're holding onto his hair simply because you are waiting for the fall. His hot palms move smoothly over your back, almost up to your shoulders and you have to admit that this whole situation is doing things to you.

"If you drop me, I'm taking you with me." You threaten, hooking your legs more securely at his back. You were always one to ruin the mood as well.

Katsuki squints his eyes at you, lips pursing. And then his hands are off you and an embarassing squeak left your mouth as you smothered him with your stomach, legs squeezing around his as you feel yourself slip down just a little. You don't really have that much upper body or core strength in you so you swearing up a storm a few minutes later, glaring into Katsuki's face.

"Bastard" You manage to squeeze out, voice strained. Honestly, you don't really want to admit just how awkward and lowkey scary it is, holding on to a tall ass man with only the carpet to soften up your fall even though you knew that Katsuki would never let you come to harm. He'd catch you, always. "Help me down."

"Giving up so soon?" Katsuki smirks and places his hands back on you, helping you stand on your two feet with some maneuvering and elbows (yours) in sensitive places (his). "I thought you'd take me down with you."

"Shut up." You purse your lips, disgruntled.

"Make me." He puts his hands on his hips, looking down at you with fire in his eyes. "Bet you can't."

You look up into his eyes, lips curling up slyly and you grasp onto his collar, tugging him down. Your eyes glance between his then down to his mouth and back again. Katsuki hums and places his hands on your waist, pulling your body to his and lowers his head even more, brushing your noses together for one sweet moment before you stand on your toes and finally press your lips together. It's almost a chaste kiss with how slow and sweet it is but it is still deep, still makes you desire more.

"I can take you" You whisper once you two part and bite your lip, trying to hide a smile. "Not in a fight."

[becauseplot]

slowly wading my way through writing the new little dagger au fic. finished what i think will be the first chapter, assuming i stick with the chapter formula. still not sure about the formatting. im praying the end result wont be too confusing to follow. ah well like the old adage goes: fuck it we ball. if it all comes crashing down then i think i could upload what i have as a oneshot for the series. have a little wip snippet r smthn idk lol (tw swearing, violence, and threats of violence!!)

“Fucking—hell—!”  He’s wrenched forward so sharply he almost winds up on his face, but still he fights them, flailing and hissing and spitting. Claws out, he swipes blindly with his one available hand, misses, sways. Then, a set of knuckles comes down hard on the back of his head. He gasps, vision spinning, and a fist closes around his ear and yanks him up by it. He yowls. A low, snarling voice breaks through the heartbeat roaring in his head, breath hot against the fur of his ear: “Cut. It. Out. Or I’ll wring your fucking neck out right where you're standing, you hear me?” 

[audioaujom]

Sebastian Saves Sam From a Cult

Stardew Hub, < prev, next >

Hello again! This is very similar to the write from last week, but with Sam and Sebastian flipped. Sorry if it feels a little repetitive ;-; I just really like these two and got sucked into the whole “make the small town a cult” thing. Whoops. There will likely be more cult to come, but I’ll try not to make that the next update. As with the last one, this is not canon compliant, as it reimagines a handful of members of Pelican Town as members of a cult that participates in ritual sacrifice. 

Word Count: 1914

Chapter TWs: Cults, Attempted Human Sacrifice, Blood and Injury

--

————————————

From: Abby hey, are you busy rn

To: Abby Nope!

Just finishin up practice with Seb

What’s up??

From: Abby my dad wants help with some store stuff and I need to get out of it lol

prairie king?

To: Abby Sure!

Want Seb to come along?

From: Abby no, it’s fine

come by quickly, though

To: Abby Lol okay

Coming!

————————————

“Hey, Abby wants me to drop by for a bit. Catch you later?” 

“Now?” Sebastian complained, turning his keyboard off. Sam nodded with his best puppy dog eyes from his guitar stand, Sebastian rolling his eyes and crossing his arms with a small smile. “That’s fine. Everything okay, though?”

“Said she wanted out of some shop work.” Sam shrugged, both of them heading to put their shoes on by Sam’s front door. “Don’t mean to kick you out, though.”

“Nah, you’re fine. I didn’t want to stay any longer, anyway.” Sebastian teased, patting Sam on the shoulder as they two headed outside. “See you soon?” 

“Yeah!” Sam grinned, the two then chatting idly as they headed into town, eventually parting ways by the front of Pierre’s so Sebastian could head home up the mountain. Sam waved as  Sebastian walked off before turning his attention to the store once he was out of sight, pausing as he noticed the ‘CLOSED’ sign on the front door. Confused but not deterred by the sign, Sam tried the door only to find that it was open, so he stepped inside.

The lights were all off and the front section of the store completely deserted, the aisles eerie in the faded afternoon sunlight coming in through the front windows. The store was also completely silent—and so was the attached house at the back, Sam taking a couple of steps to get further inside with a small frown.

“Abby? You here?” He called, glancing around the closed shop in confusion. 

Why’d she ask me to come here to help when the place is closed?

He casually wandered further in, glancing down each of the darkened aisles of stocked food as he went. He frowned as he reached the counter, comically jumping up onto it to see behind it as if expecting to find someone hiding back there.

“Abby?” He tried again, hopping off the counter to head for the ‘Staff’ door in the back corner that led into Abigail’s house and pushing it open. He stepped through, glancing around while wondering why the house and shop would both be open when no one seemed to be home.

Upset at having been pranked—he assumed—he glanced around again to make sure no one saw him and slowly backed out of the main room to head back into the store and maybe catch up with Sebastian. As soon as he turned around to push back open the door to the shop he saw a flash of purple hair before a stinging pain slammed against the back of his head and he went crashing to the floor.

“Quickly! Before he recovers!”

Sam felt dizzy—but not any more disoriented than the few times he’s fallen from his skateboard, closing his eyes as his head pounded to try and regain his senses faster. As he felt arms wrap around his torso to lift him off the floor, he blindly started flailing his arms and feeling them occasionally smack against whoever was behind that slowly started to drag him backwards.

“I need a hand! He’s already coming back to his senses!” A voice called out from behind him, and the sudden shock of recognizing it as Pierre’s momentarily halted all of his attempts to get free.

What…?

He opened his eyes to glance around, realizing he was approaching an unfamiliar set of double doors at the end of the main room he’d never actually been through. Limp in Pierre’s arms for a moment, he saw Abigail come running towards him, a grimace crossing her face as she made eye contact with his slack-jawed expression. “Shit.”

“Hey! What are you doing?!” Sam didn’t bother trying to keep the panic off his face as Abigail went to grab his legs, managing to kick her once in the side and once in the leg, sending her crashing to the floor with a groan. She took a second to regain herself as Pierre resumed dragging him back, putting Sam enough off balance that Abigail could grab his legs and help her dad carry him into the room. Sam was too busy thrashing to take a good look at the room, letting himself be carried through a few lines of empty chairs towards a strangely ornate table that looked a little too much like an altar for his liking. 

“Oh, my. Need another set of hands?” Caroline’s head suddenly poked in through the doors, smiling softly as the two managed to lift Sam up and hold him down on top of the altar.

“That would be lovely.” Pierre sighed in relief as his wife came in, Sam panicking even harder and trying to break free from the two. Caroline then took over holding down Sam’s arms as Pierre went digging under the table, triumphantly returning with several lengths of rope, dropping all but one and then starting to loop it around one of Sam’s wrists.

“Okay but seriously, what’s going on?!” With the entire family working together, he could barely even struggle as Pierre made short work of tying the other end of the rope to a leg of the table, then uncomfortably pinning his arm flat against the table as he moved to the other one.

“Honey, is he always this noisy?” Caroline asked Abigail, who shrugged lightly.

“Yeah. Sorry for not warning you.”

“This is fuckin’ crazy…” Actually a little awed by the insanity, Sam winced as Pierre quickly tied down his other arm and then moved to join Abigail on the other side of the table.

“You’ll be fine, okay?” Caroline smiled down at him, but it only inspired a cold chill of fear instead of any comfort. “The others will be here soon, so we’ll make it quick.”

“Make what quick?” Sam asked, though he felt as if he already knew the answer as he looked up to see Pierre tie his legs down.

“You don’t need to worry about that.”

——

After passing the dilapidated Community Center and starting up the mountain path, Sebastian slowed to stop as he realized—

“Wait… isn’t today Wednesday?” He wondered aloud, looking back down the hill he already came up at Pierre’s General Store. The lights seemed to be off when he passed, and he knew the store was always closed in the middle of the week. Starting to backtrack as a strange sense of anxiety began to eat away at his stomach, Sebastian walked back down to the staircase leading into town. Quickly descending the steps, he followed the road into the town square, shielding his eyes from the sun as he jogged towards Pierre’s and peered in through the slightly tinted front windows. Not spotting anyone inside and the closed sign on the door, Sebastian tried the front door only to find that it was actually open and he pushed it open so he could step inside.

The store itself was as quiet and deserted as it appeared from the outside, Sebastian glancing around anxiously. After determining that it was—in fact—completely empty, his stomach coiled into a heavy knot of dread as he approached the staff door leading into Abigail’s house. He paused mid-reach for the handle, waiting for a second to see if he could hear anything before opening the door as the house sounded quiet as well. Fighting the urge to call out as he stepped through, Sebastian headed into the main room of the house after poking his head into Abigail’s room and finding it also empty. Before he could check any of the other rooms, he heard what sounded like hushed voices from behind a set of double doors at the far end of the room.

“What’s in there?” He mumbled under his breath to no one in particular, taking slow steps in that direction until he was close enough to make out talking from inside.

“—and with this, we can begin.” Pierre spoke as if addressing a crowd of some type, a brief moment of silence passing before Sebastian heard the familiar—though now incredibly panicked—voice of his friend.

“H—Hey!! What’s that for? Get away from me!” 

“Abby.” Pierre seemed to ignore Sam, his voice dull and bored as if—Has he done this before? “A hand?”

“No, don’t—!” Sam cut himself off with a cry of pain, Sebastian’s eyes blowing wide as he quickly threw the double doors open to charge inside.

The entire room fell still and silent as the assembled townspeople turned to look at Sebastian, who stood just inside the doorway with his mouth agape. The room was strange, with gilded tiles covering the floors and walls, a bunch of chairs set up to model pews and facing a large, ornate altar that sat atop a slight rise in the floor. The recognizable figures of Lewis, Gus, Clint, Pam, and Caroline were sitting in the seats and staring at Sebastian—who was too preoccupied with Pierre and Abigail who were standing over Sam, who’d been tied down on top of the altar. Abigail was also holding a bloodied kitchen knife, which had just been used to slash at Sam’s wrists—which were now steadily dripping blood into large buckets beneath the head of the table.

“Sam!” Sebastian charged up through the center aisle created by the chairs, ignoring the townspeople who stood up in protest as he ran faster than he thought he could to reach his injured friend.

“Sebastian…?” Sam’s head slowly rolled to the side, his slightly bleary and clouded eyes noticing his friend’s rapidly approaching form.

“Now, there’s no need to interrupt.” Pierre warned, starting to reach for Abigail’s weapon but moving a moment too slow as Sebastian kicked out and hit him in the stomach.

“Dad!” Abigail—in her surprise—dropped the knife as her father fell hard to the floor, clutching at his stomach with a winded cough. Sebastian lunged for the knife as she realized her mistake, him standing up in time to punch her hard in the face and send her crashing into Pierre as he tried to get up.

Sebastian quickly sawed through the ropes around Sam’s wrists and helped him sit up, aiming the knife towards the onlookers who had begun to approach. “Don’t even think about it. I want all of you out of here. This… whatever… ends now.”

The assembled townspeople looked at each other warily, glancing between the knife in Sebastian’s hand and the crumpled forms of Abigail and Pierre and started backing away, allowing Sebastian to cut Sam’s legs free and begin to fret over his bleeding forearms.

“Keep pressure on it, that’ll slow the bleeding. We’ll get you to Harvey, he can help.”

“Sebastian, you…” Sam trailed off as he pressed his injured forearms against his shirt in an attempt to slow the bleeding. “How’d you know I was here?”

“This place is closed on Wednesday.” Sebastian explained, helping Sam off the altar and doing his best to support his friend’s weight as they hurried out of the room and into the main area of the store. “Realized that about halfway home and came back to make sure you were okay.” “Thanks, man.” Sam smiled widely, before a new wince of pain came across his face wiped it away.

“Come on, I gotcha.”

[djhamaradio]

Duppy Echoes on Fela Kuti s Gentleman

On the Fela Kuti Album Gentleman one of my personal favorite Fela Albums, the album titled tune Gentleman stands out as one of his most revolutionary joints both thematically and sonically. The man is at his best creating a protest song whose lambast and righteous fury would make Bob Dylan look like a member of the backstreet boys. On this song he desperately flails at and wrestles with a post colonial world rapidly calcifying into the very rigid hierarchal societies of mainland Europe. The songs intro alone is part African spiritual prayer part free jazz freak out session. As usual his band is up to the task following Felas fender Rhodes and Saxophone to righteous places. The song is a journey of sorts the instruments evoke a deceptive groove that is happy on it surface but betrays a righteous fury that was bubbling up after the promises of post-colonial Africa slowly turned into a nightmare. In this song Fela points the blame at an African leadership that is blindly aping its colonial masters he uses the metaphor of the African rocking stylish heavy textiles in tropical west Africa as a symbol of this madness.

When his classic male call and female response chorus comes in he is biting in his critique unapologetically stating:

I no be gentleman at all

I no be gentleman at all o

I no be gentleman at all, at all

[Chorus]

I no be gentleman at all o!

I be Africa man original

I be Africa man original

Them call you, make you come chop

You chop small, you say you belly full

You say you be gentleman

You go hungry

You go suffer

You go quench

Me I no be gentleman like that

His song writing is sparse, jarring and comical. In it he begins by completely disavowing himself of western pomp and circumstance and his female chorus agrees assertively. He then claims his Africaness in his booming voice like a man whose just been waiting to let everyone know he is unapologetically African a sentiment which was radical at the time of the release of this album. Released in 1973, this record is right in the middle of a kind of post colonial reckoning that was rapidly shaping the world. Africans and people in the post colonial world were screaming loudly that they were deserving of dignity and their cultures their music, their food, their dress was equally deserving of being viewed as dignified and our humanity isnt always based on our proximity to westerness. In the case of this song Fela is simply saying I disavow myself of the colonizers ideas of what it means to be civilized.

[dandelion-wings]

Interesting! TBH it sounds like the way you write intimacy isn't far from the way I write it when I'm not thinking about it.

I am aiming, I think, for a different thing than you are a lot of of the time--it's far from the only reason I write (or even the only reason I write romance and intimacy, which I can go your direction in if I have other reasons/goals at the time), but I do sometimes write to experience interesting things that I don't/can't in real life, if that makes sense? And attraction is high on that list. Like, I read books with the "tingling loins" sort of scenes and like them when they go heavily into the physical detail, because it's like peering into a window into an experience that I don't have.* In cases like that, reading is a starting point, but writing gets me even closer, mentally, so I often take stabs at writing that sort of thing myself just for that experience, and that's where I end up hanging up on questions of accuracy and believability and whether I'm just blindly replicating what I like from my reading instead of actually... accessing something, I guess.

*Ellin voice as she watches a Vision-user AoE the training dummies: Oh, that's how you do it.

(I also write a lot of smut, and funnily it isn't a problem for me with that most of the time, because I'm very aware that most smut isn't realistic anyway and the stuff I like most in smut definitely isn't. That's very freeing! XD It's the opposite end of the spectrum from the above, where I still want a high level of description for my personal satisfaction, but that description to me is like describing the way a dragon's scales feel--rough under the fingers and warm from the sun--giving sensory details to a fantasy to make it satisfying, instead of trying to experience someone else's reality through enumerating details.)

I guess the important part is that I do generally enjoy re-reading my efforts later! But as with many parts of writing, while I'm actually underwater and inside of the piece, I feel like I'm flailing until I get out and hit air again. XD

Speaking, admittedly, as someone who also doesn't have 'a typical interest in sex' and also enjoys writing sex scenes, I don't think it's weird at all! <3 It's something that's very complex and full of interesting variation, and anything like that is fascinating and rewarding to write regardless of what the personal reward(s) may be.

*lies down* once again I have no idea how to write attraction at all

[solliium]

in light of the new short i just want to say

verain is very smart and very clever, more than enough to survive the cutthroat nature of bilgewater and have a trade emporium of his own making.

but unfortunately for verain and anyone i write with, i am not clever and so he will always be a dumbass.

[fabled-fiction]

Just A Gut Feeling (Marc Spector x Reader x Steven Grant)

Part 2 of the Nosey Neighbor series

Summary: Okay maybe there is a little bit of a problem with how far your curiosity can go, because what used to be just a curious eye kept on your neighbor has you tripping into a rabbit hole that you don’t think you’ll be able to climb out of.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Moon Knight Ep.1 Spoilers, Mentions of blood, major bodily injury, cursing

Part 1: Nosey Neighbor

Part 3: Crashing Red Waves

A/N: This is written with little to no prior knowledge about Moon Knight/Marc Spector/Steven Grant other than what was shown in the first episode. After all the fun I had writing the first one, and the positive feedback I received I decided to make it a series!

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

You knew something was going to go wrong, you could feel it in your gut.

You had learned quickly that whenever your gut told you something was right or wrong, it was usually best to just go with it. 

It usually ended up being correct, which was then followed up to people asking you how you were able to guess someone’s name spelling right or if a bar fight was about to happen. It was your party trick, nothing more.

Marc, spelt M-A-R-C. It wouldn't have been your first guess but you would’ve gotten there eventually.

‘Think you could use those keen eyes of yours to watch over me when I'm not in control?’

Your infatuation with the mystery that was your neighbor was really starting to piss you off.

Throwing the letter down, you sigh as you glance at the time. It’s late, but too early for you to go to bed if you don’t want to mess with your circadian rhythm..again. Sometimes you really hated being a graveyard shift worker. But you were determined to have the whole day to yourself tomorrow, since it was the first you’d have in a while.

Kneeling down to pick the letter up off the floor, you sigh and go to place it in some random drawer when you hear a crash through the wall.

Fuck, it was him again.

It wasn’t odd to hear crashing and clatter coming from his flat through the wall, it was a usual occurrence in fact. Usually it was cursing, followed by the sound of rummaging and what you could only guess was the scrapping sound of a table being dragged across the floor. Maybe if you weren’t so infatuated with the idea of figuring him out you would have put in a noise complaint, but you were also never in your actual flat so you only heard it every now and then.

It never bothered you till now.

Not because it was annoying, but because you had crossed a line now that there was no turning back over on. You had entered into his brain just a bit, and his flat. You were sure you had also implanted something in his as well, seeing you barely spoke and you had a key to his door.

Slowly walking over to your door, you cracked it open to see him bounding down the hall.

By the time you had gotten the chain off the elevator doors were closing and he was looking absolutely terrified.

“Fuck.” You mutter, slamming the door and quickly grabbing the first pair of sneakers that you saw. It was as if the damn things knew you were in a hurry, cause you could barely get the heels pulled over your own.

You swore you almost ripped your windbreaker with the way you snatched it off the coat rack. Your keys and wallet went flying the minute you stepped out and threw it on. Everything was working against you today! You cursed under your breath as you blindly grabbed them both off the ground of the hallway. You were a flailing mess as you finally stood, blowing some hair out of your face and huffing as you made your way to the lift.

You weren’t entirely sure why you felt the need to literally chase after him, make sure he was okay. But there was just something in your gut telling you that you needed to make sure he was okay.

Your gut was never wrong. 

When the elevator doors opened, and an older woman nearly rammed right through you, there stood the neighbor that couldn’t quite leave your mind.

“AH!”

He looked as if he could have nearly jumped out of his skin, his head hitting the glass as his hand went to rest on his chest. It would take more than a hand on his chest to try and push his heart down back into place by the looks of how fast it was moving.

This…this was not the Marc you had met earlier, the one who you had to help limp back to the flat to keep him from collapsing all together. He was different, but you couldn’t put your tongue on it. But that just added to the list of questions you had, a list you realized would probably go unanswered for the most part.

The note did suggest that Marc…shared the body.

You just continued to stand there, both of you in a sort of staring contest as he caught his breath.

“You okay?”

“Would be better if you didn’t go scarin’ the daylights outta me! Jeez!” He huffed, putting his hands on his knees and he panted.

There was the british accent again, this definitely was not Marc. This was the same body but not the same man. You suppose if you had been paying attention you would have seen it, but he was carrying himself much different now. His shoulders were slouched, and his eyes held that same light you saw a few days ago.

“You look like you saw a ghost with how you were running out of your flat.” You mutter, placing your hand on the lift door to keep it open.

He quickly shot you a look, one that seemed to be of surprise. That was the reaction you often got whenever you would mention you saw something that they otherwise thought was a private moment. The revelation that they were being watched often led to accusation.

“You…saw that?”

“Kinda hard not to, you’re always making a racket.”

“Sorry ‘bout that.” He mumbled, playing with his fingers.

He seemed so small, as if he was making himself smaller in your presence after being found out. But he had no reason to, it wasn’t like you had exposed him of something he should be guilty of.

“Nothing to be sorry about, so you don’t have to apologize…what’s your name?”

His eyes flickered up to you, and it finally dawned on you that you had been standing in the hallway for longer than necessary. It felt as if there was a grease mark forever ingrained on the palm of your hand from how long you had been holding the door open. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you watched as the lights flickered and he flinched.

“Steven…Steven Grant.”

Okay this was definitely odd…

“ (Y/N) (L/N)...”

When the lights flickered again, and you swore you heard one of the bulbs pop, Steven pushed himself into the corner with his eyes looking every which way. Okay this was definitely concerning, and you had decided that you couldn’t just stand there and watch as he scared himself to death.

“You sure you’re okay?”

He gave you a once over, almost as if he was making sure you were real before giving you a real slow nod. That did not convince you in the slightest.

“Want to join me for some tea?”

This was going to be an interesting night.

“You haven’t had any adverse reactions to sleepy time tea have you?” You call out as you walk  into your kitchen and start a kettle. The scrapping of one of your dining room chairs tells you that they actually followed you.

“No…I’m usually trying to stay awake so I dunno.” He mumbled as you began pouring the tea.

You glanced at the time, and figured you could probably just go to bed early. It would be a bit odd if he was the only one drinking tea, and you felt that with Steven you wanted to put him at ease as much as you could.

Sliding the pink polka dotted mug next to him, you straddled the chair across from him and began to blow onto the surface of the water. The hot air fanned your face, making you squint as you let the moist air wash over your face. The motion itself calmed you, cleared your head and helped to steady your heart. You could hear it in your ears just barely over the sound of the water rippling with every pursed blow of your lips.

Looking up at Steven, you saw his eyes quickly flicker to his own cup. He was holding it in the same manner as you, but he had drifted away from cooling his own cup off to focus on something else.

As you took a sip, you wished you had blown on it just a bit more because while its taste washed over your tongue soon enough you could only taste…burnt heat. You set the cup down and walked over to the fridge to look for some milk or cream to mix in. Wasn’t honey supposed to help? 

“Why are you always watching me?”

You pause just as your fingers were about to graze the carton, the condensation seemingly reaching to wet the pads of your fingers that hover over it.

“I’ve always liked watching people…I’m sure if I had the money I could afford the real answer but I usually just tell people it’s cause I like figuring people out…”

Setting the multitude of condiments on the table, you pull back your choice and begin to mix it in. Your spoon makes a few tinks against the ceramic mug, before you genuinely answer his question.

“I watch you cause you’re interesting though…Can’t remember the last time someone made me this intrigued.”

Bringing the mug up to your lips, you watch as his cheeks dust over. You guess that Steven probably didn’t receive a lot of compliments, if you count what you said as a compliment. You had a feeling that if you had said that to Marc he probably would be more wary of you. It was an odd thing, to admit that you watched someone you were intrigued by rather than just going up to them and striking up a conversation.

To be honest you probably wouldn’t have done that had it not been for the first move of Marc giving you that key then the note that was obviously talking about Steven. The only reason why you had the gall to invite Steven to come drink some tea was because he seemed genuinely frightened and he probably would’ve been up all night. And having just wiped the blood off his knuckles the night before you…would’ve felt responsible to help somehow even without said note. This way was just more organic, you were a concerned neighbor that just saw their fellow neighbor recover from what could be interpreted as a panic attack in the lift of their complex. It would’ve been odd to knock on his door and admit you were listened and waiting for the right time to swoop in.

“Interesting how? I’m just a gift shopist.”

You squint and smile at his phrasing, before taking a sip of your cup. Much better.

“I mean…”

Marc told you not to mention that night to him when he was speaking british…so you couldn’t mention to Steven that you washed the blood off said knuckles the other night. He didn’t tell you to not tell him about anything else.

“I work graveyard shifts…and you always seem to be moving about. Whether that's me catching you leaving or hearing you move about all night, I eventually doze off.”

“You’ve seen me outside my flat past midnight?”

He seems surprised, and you nod as you take a few more long sip that teeter on the edge of being gulps.

“Yea…I always figured you like, go out to the club or something at first but then you’d show up limping or with bruises. So I became intrigued on how such a sweet looking guy could be so mysterious. Especially now that I know you work at a gift shop.”

He’s watching every word you say, it almost seems like he’s fighting back the urge to reach across the table and pull them right out of your throat. You’ve caught his attention and now you can’t seem to shake it even after you’ve stopped to swallow down the rest of your tea. 

“Right…I guess that would make me an interesting fellow…say do I ever seem different whenever you see me like that?...”

You watch him for a moment, before standing and grabbing his mug from in front of him. You didn’t want to give him an outright answer, as you feared that would teeter on the border of what Marc told you not to do. And normally you wouldn’t care, but Steven seemed to be in a fragile state of mind…at least whenever it seemed like he was about to sleep seeing as he was afraid of his own reflection and flickering lights. So you opted instead to…obviously avoid the question that way he could come to his own conclusion for now.

But then he rushed to stand next to you, having his hands out in a sort of way that begged the question of if you really did want to just outright tell him, “Yes you seem different, sometimes you even come home covered in blood. By the way you told me your name was Marc, so that might also be something.”

“You see cause I don’t quite remember whenever I have these…episodes. So if you could even help me fill out even a few of the blank spaces.”

He had those hope filled eyes again, except this time they were pleading…asking you to help him remember. You suppose you felt bad, if you couldn’t remember half your days and nights you would look for any clarity possible. And a neighbor that often saw when you would leave said security of an apartment you remember falling asleep in before waking up somewhere completely different did seem like a viable option for information.

Plus…you had been watching him like a hawk recently.

“I don’t know much…like I said I don’t see you much outside other than when you’re coming home.”

You watched as he slumped his shoulders…you’d be disappointed too.

That's why you were currently cursing the voice in your head, because the one day that you had off and you were going to be spending it watching him. You were more than thrilled to see if you learned anything new, to scratch that itch but this felt like you were taking it a bit too far by visiting him at work after hours…

You were starting to hate the voice in your head.

The one that was pecking and pecking away at the ever growing, thick barked tree that was your fascination with your neighbor.

Typing away on your phone, you hugged against the bus pole that supported all your weight with just the crook of your arm. You had luckily gained a good bit of balance over the years, and now as you typed up the most basic terms you knew about Egyptian Mythology into the search bar you couldn’t help but pause.

Did you smell…blood?

Glancing around the bus, it was filled with only a few people. The usual crowd for this late at night…it wasn’t the usual time you traveled on the bus but it was still particularly late enough to be considered the time for only those working or clubbing to be traveling by bus. So it was odd that you smelled blood.

Sniffing the air again, this time a bit more subtle you searched for the source of the metallic smell.

Peering over your shoulder behind you, you squinted when you saw an older looking man smiling as he looked out the bus window. His eyes seemed to be watching everything, taking it all in with a grain of salt. There was this air of expected regality that he held, it made you shake your head as you turned to look back at your phone.

But then the hairs on your neck stood, and a churning feeling filled your gut.

Pausing, you slowly looked back up from your phone to see him staring right at you. Every alarm system in your body and mind was screaming at you, telling you to run. That he was no good. His pupils were seemingly framed by endless pools of blue, and you were drowning. Not because you were pulled in with intrigue, but because he had somehow cut your life vest and forced you to face the tides.

The signal of the bus stopping pulled you from the current, and with that you rushed off said bus onto what you had assumed was your life boat. The street air was cold, and you pulled your jacket further onto you as you examined where exactly you were.

“‘Scuse me.”

His hand was cold, and felt as if it turned you to stone. Why…why now of all nights were you getting wrapped up in this bullshit.

Because as you watched him walk into the now closed museum, your heard him mumble under his breath to the person beside him.

“Let’s go see if this Steven Grant has my precious scarab.”

Standing there, watching as the doors closed every cell in your body told you to run the opposite way. This was way out of the safety zone of finding out just how interesting your neighbor was even if he had asked you to watch over him, or at least the version of himself that was Steven. You could turn around right now, head home and forever bury this interest as one that was really all in your head. You were totally making it up to be something more than it was.

So why were you so frantically searching every sign on the wall that read gift shop?

Your heart was pounding as you sped walked through the museum, turning every corner harshly in search of the dorky man. If you could just find him, and get him out of there your conscience would be clear, and you could have a safe, but very angry word with Marc. You weren’t entirely sure how…but all you knew was right now Marc was the object of your anger and not Steven, no…he was an innocent bystander in all of this from what you could tell.

The vibrations of howling across the floor of the dark museum shook you to your core, making you cover your mouth to hide your shaky breath. You stood there as still as a statue for only a moment before you heard the scrapping of dog nails across said floors. It sounded like when a dog needed to get it’s nails trimmed…except you were sure if you turned around said nails would bury themselves into your chest and rip out your heart.

When you heard someone seemingly whistle, and call out into the void you knew it could only be Steven.

Throwing all caution to the wind, you started sprinting towards his voice, whimpering as you heard the attention of the monster dog turn towards the same sound. You were only hopping now that you could get to him first before the dog.

Sliding past a corner, and using your hand to slingshot you around you saw Steven standing there. He was wearing the same expression that he had when you scared the daylights out of him last night.

“What’re you doing here?”

The crackle of the PA system alerted you to the threat coming around the corner. Steven’s face turned pale as he looked over your shoulder, and you didn’t even bother to answer his question as you grabbed his wrist and ran the other way.

“Steven Grant of the giftshop, give me the scarab and you won't be torn apart.”

A loud roaring noise made both you and Steven scream as you turned a corner. A galloping sound was the only thing you could focus on, that and the sound of your heart practically coming out of your chest. It was reminding you that you were still alive, no matter how long that would be now.

But the sudden change of grip in your hand brought you back to reality.

Steven had somehow managed to get ahead of you, and was now subsequently dragging you along. His hand was hot as it gripped your wrist, and with how tight he was gripping it it felt as if he was trying to become part of the joint to bind you both together.

“STEVEN WHAT IS THAT THING?” You screamed as you both bobbed and weaved between display causes.

“I DUNNO!”

That was probably the best and only answer you were going to get, and right now that was more than enough as you made it down what seemed to be an employee only hallway.

When you finally decided to look over your shoulder, you were met with what would be the object of your nightmares for what could only be described as the impossibly perceivable future.

It looked like it was a dog at one point, but its fur had fallen off and left only a few patches to show the resemblance of what it once was. You wanted to tear your eyes away but you couldn’t, it was just one of those things that was so disgustingly fascinating that you couldn’t look away.

Well you could, it just took a claw to the shoulder to make you realize you had better things to be focusing on.

Screaming out in pain, your hand immediately went to the shoulder. Steven was still dragging you, looking for any place the both of you could hold up till…

Well you weren’t exactly sure. You just knew that the minute Steven let go of your wrist you were both royally fucked as he attempted to drop every storage shelve to block a creature that you had just seen crawl over the walls when you had reached a dead end. He knew this place better than you and he had led you to…no no he was just scared. You had to think straight.

Snatching the key card off his waist while he was busy pelting it with whatever the fuck he had found, you tried every door down said hallway. Ironically enough the last door you had tried granted you access.

“STEVEN!” You screamed, as you slammed the door open with your good shoulder.

When he just barely slid in, and you had slammed the door on the creature of death was when you finally grasped the situation.

Your shoulder was burning up, it felt as if you had just placed your hand on a red hot metal rod. You didn’t dare look at the wound itself, cause you knew the minute you did your pain would go from ten to one hundred. Right now you were content with sliding down the cool porcelain tiles of the bathroom, and trying to hold together what you could only assume were the remaining ribbons of your shoulder.

Steven was freaking out, that much could be seen. His eyes were flickering back and forth between you, his reflection and the door.

All you could register coming from him was him screaming at the mirror. He was arguing with himself, his own reflection being just him screaming as well. He was breaking, but given the situation you were surprised you were only crying...

Were you crying?

This got Steven’s attention, and you watched as his eyes turned up in sorrow…no. It was guilt.

You had done the opposite of what you wanted, and now you were both going to die.

You shut your eyes as tight as you could, hoping and wishing and praying that death would come quick. That it would be painless, and then you could not be in this situation any more. Your whimpering was the only thing you focused on, that and the pain in your shoulder. You really didn’t want to focus on anything else, like the door caving in to the weight of the beast. You didn’t want to listen as Steven was ripped to shred, or how the porcelain of the sinks cracked and broke under the weight of him being tossed around like a rag doll.

But then there was silence.

Well as much silence as there could be with the spraying of broken faucets.

When death hadn’t come, and you gathered all your strength to finally pry open your eyelids, you saw someone completely new, panting and standing over a pile of sand where you could only assume the demon dog once was.

What the fuck had you gotten yourself into?

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

Nosey Neighbor Taglist: (I will bold if it did not allow to tag)

@dreamingaboutyousworld @twistedhistory

@erideight @cupidpebble @jokai00 @bibli0thecary @qjuiq-odakyu​

@leabarnesxx

If you want to be tagged, just tell me in the replies of this post! All I ask in return is that you interact with the post you are tagged in, it means a lot to me and helps motivate me!

[antianakin]

Lol yeah I wrote a much shorter shitpost just before this saying how funny it was that there somehow ended up being TWO episodes in a Filoni Star Wars animated TV show where an Imperial character ends up stuck on an ice planet while injured with a member of a cultural group he'd once historically been prejudiced against and then unexpectedly bonds with that person and somehow within the timespan of that ONE EPISODE manages to decide to turn against the Empire and do almost a complete 180.

Crosshair and Kallus have managed to be treated almost the exact same way with the exact same sudden turnaround. At least with Crosshair I expected it, it was pretty obvious they PLANNED to have Crosshair change his mind, while Kallus's change of heart comes completely out of the blue with zero build-up, but still.

I don't think this team of writers knows how to write a redemption arc to save their LIVES tbqh. Ventress's was mangled back in TCW, Kallus's was mangled in Rebels, and now we have Crosshair in TBB. Bo-Katan's was mangled in Rebels, too, now that I think of it.

I'm finding that I have a lot of difficulty with the "I never thought the leopards would eat MY face" kind of characters, where they side with the people they KNOW are evil and cruel because it benefits them in the moment and then cry and flail when it stops benefiting them and they get hurt as a consequence. There's a way to manage it that allows me to feel a modicum of sympathy for them, to want them to figure it out and do better. My problem is that I have VERY diminishing sympathy for those kinds of people in real life and a much GREATER instinct to laugh at them instead and consider their misery as just desserts. So stories trying to get me to sympathize with those kinds of characters are at a disadvantage to begin with.

Crosshair's advantage should be that he's a CLONE, I'm inclined to love every clone I meet. I loved Mayday immediately, I loved Wilco back at the beginning of the season, I loved Howzer last season. But every single member of TBB (Echo excluded) is just... so unlikable. They're not clones, they don't have that intrinsic quality to them that the real clones do that makes me want to root for them. I dunno whether it's because of just how ugly they are, how unkind they tend to be, how bland their personalities are, or something else entirely (or a combination of the above), but I just... don't like them. There's an IMMENSELY easy sympathetic motivation to give a clone character who's siding with the wrong person. Look at Dogma! Dogma's INCREDIBLE, I love him SO MUCH, and I can't help but feel immensely sad for him every time I think about him, the misplaced loyalty because he hasn't learned that people should need to EARN that kind of loyalty rather than be given it blindly. It was SO EASY to make Dogma a compelling and likable character whose fate at the end of Umbara is immensely tragic.

Crosshair... doesn't have that. Dogma's prickly, too, he's strict and unbending, he's not funny and doesn't even seem to be HAPPY very often. But he's still sympathetic and compelling, largely due to the way they allowed us to learn about him, about why he's doing the things he's doing. Crosshair just acts like a provocative asshole to everyone around him for no good reason and that's pretty much the entirety of his personality. When he gets taken over by the chip, literally no one who knows him well can even tell the DIFFERENCE. We as the AUDIENCE can't really tell the difference. The narrative for him in season 1 actually RELIES on both the characters who know him best AND the audience being UNABLE TO TELL THE DIFFERENCE. So there's nothing THERE for me to feel sympathetic towards, there's no compelling reason for why he can't find it in himself to leave the Empire even if he knows it's wrong. So when the leopards eat his face, it's hard not to feel like that's just his comeuppance. He wasn't even manipulated into doing it or too young to know better yet, he's just an asshole and a fascist at heart.

I feel like this show has just... missed an entire opportunity to undo some of the damage they did with introducing TBB the way they did by having Crosshair's "redemption arc" such as it is come about because he has to face his prejudice about the real clones and recognize that he's WRONG about them. All of them. Not just a few that he decides to like, ALL OF THEM. He was wrong to hate them, he was wrong to bully them, he was wrong to consider them the same, he was wrong to consider them expendable, he was wrong to give them a rude nickname.

Now, let's be honest, they should've had this be the whole point of their arc in TCW season 7 when they got introduced. By the end of the arc, they've all been schooled and they offer Echo a place among them because they don't see "regs" as inferior to them, Echo included, and are willing to let him join their little ragtag family if he needs a safe place to heal from his trauma.

But they didn't, and instead, season 1 of TBB doubled down on the whole idea that they were all bullied by the real clones on Kamino. They apparently have TOLD Omega that they hate all of the real clones and she has adopted that same philosophy.

Season 2 offered a rare opportunity to undo that radically stupid decision via Crosshair. He's the only one who is regularly around the real clones to any degree and he was the one who was the MOST vocal and aggressive about his hatred of them out of the entire squad. He was the most provocative and dismissive and cruel. So it would make SENSE that, after he decides that his own squad has abandoned him to the Empire and chooses to stay with the Empire rather than return to TBB, that he'd have an arc where the reason he starts to turn on the Empire is because the only people he's got LEFT to bond with are the real clones who are being treated like shit by the Empire.

It wouldn't take much. Have one of them approach him at his stupid lonely table and they get to talking and Crosshair brings up a rude snarky assumption about "all you regs" and his new companion just laughs and is like "that's not true, where'd you hear THAT?" and Crosshair just has to stay silent because, well, he'd made an assumption and can't admit to it. Have Crosshair get assigned to a clone squad and he complains about all the ways it's going to be TERRIBLE and he pushes back against it SO HARD but of course the Empire doesn't care and forces him to go anyway, but by the end of the episode all of those assumptions are proven wrong and Crosshair's actually grown to like this new squad but they get moved off to a different assignment or they're all killed or disappeared or SOMETHING and he never sees them again.

The opportunity to actually allow Crosshair a REAL ARC because he's the ONLY CHARACTER who can grow or develop on this show at all was RIGHT THERE and they IGNORED IT.

[cherievol6]

not waiting around - pt I

PART II

heyyyy so i just found this in my drafts from a while ago and stuck on an ending - i hope you like it! i was kind of in a bad mood so writing an angsty piece was a good vessel for me lmao. enjoy :)

harry can’t make up his mind and you won’t be second best

warnings: swearing, harry being arrogant, angsty angstiness

word count: around 2.5k

.

“How are you not currently ripping his bollocks off?”

“I agree, I’d be knocking his fucking block off right now.”

You mostly tuned out of the incessant ranting of your friends that you didn’t wish to partake in, it’s becoming white noise at this point.

“Babe, aren’t you gonna say something?” Your sister clicks obnoxiously in your face, snapping you out of the fixation your eyes had on the black scrunchie on your bedside table. It sat exactly in the place it was left by the user merely a week ago.

“Need to take my hair down…know how much you love pulling it.” He smirks, gently removing the black scrunchie from his seemingly untameable hair. You swat his arm at the crude remark, covering your face with your hands as he clambers to you on the bed, prying your defensive position down to meet your eyes.

“You’re awful.” You mumble jokingly, his smile immediately erasing any previous embarrassment.

“Kidding…kind of.” He mumbles and you giggle at him, confirming his remark by sliding your hands through his curls, sighing as though they were meant to be there. His eyes closed as he revelled in the feeling, lurching forward to kiss you feverishly.

The scrunchie in his fingers was blindly placed on the table beside your bed, him laughing as his arm flailed around to make sure he didn’t miss and drop it down the side of your bed – he knew you’d kill him.

“Can I borrow it again later for our face masks?” His voice is muffled now as he buries his head in your neck, your heart stutters slightly as you try and repress the feelings crawling up your throat and begging to be voiced.

“Of course, it’s yours now.”

The face masks were rain checked later that night. Maybe even crossed out completely, there was no way you two would ever be that intimate again.

“You literally poured your heart out to this man for him to fuck off and ghost your text messages. He needs to be put in his place.” You cringe heavily at her summation of your embarrassing drunken confessions you’d made the night Harry was at your house. You and Harry agreed to keep things casual, only ever meeting as and when you both needed some kind of distraction. It worked for you both, smooth sailing for the first couple of months. The lines began to blur soon enough, and you’d fallen into the deep end with him.

“Friends with benefits almost never ends well.” Your best friend says in a motherly voice, though you’re glad it’s not actually your mother…she’d be broadcasting your business all over Facebook the minute she heard the news. Something back handed about not being ‘good enough’ for the nation’s heartthrob.

You know your friend is right, friends with benefits always ending up with someone getting hurt. You knew first hand at this point, your unrequited feelings being the sole reason for the ending to your agreement with Harry. You blame the wine, the substance making you talk for England. You’re not quite sure you’ve ever been so drunk around him before, then to top it off, you accidentally tell him that you “wish he wanted you for more than just a shag in the sheets”. His reaction, from what you can remember, was a curt yet unamused laugh, and a swift exit with a very icy demeanour which you could still feel the stab from, even stone-cold sober.

There had been a few words exchanged in between the time of your confession and his dramatic exit, them holding nothing but salty air and what you felt like was disgust. The only words you distinctly remember were “this was never a good idea”, and they’d been playing on a loop in your head for days.

To add insult to injury, the same non-committal man had been seen at a party with none other than his top-model ex just last night, embracing how you’d done to him for the past four months. Except you feel as though his embrace with her held more weight than the ones you’d shared, your memory tainted of him – your mind told you now that every intimate thing with him was done regrettably on his end.

His defensive reaction threw you for six after your domesticated interactions in private, you feeling as though his comfort around you and willingness to act couple-y meant he may harbour similar sentiments to you. You were deathly wrong.

“He literally sacked you off last week and now he’s back with his ex? What on earth is that all about?” Your sister screeches, her and your best friend seemingly more infuriated than you are.

“I get it, okay? I must have such a fucking liability to him that he, in your words, ‘sacked me off’.” You snap back, silencing them both as you try to gather your thoughts about this. The picture of him and his ex-fling idles on your phone which lies haphazardly on the bed beside you, it still open from your first viewing of it.

“Listen, I need you both to leave, this is something I need to work out in my head, first… before I start chopping anyone’s balls off…please can I just have a day or two to sort myself out?” It comes out as a plea, the two women in front of you immediately feeling pity for you, seeing that it has in fact torn you up and the only way you could fix it was being alone. They nod and embrace you tightly, and you have to will away the tears when they’re rubbing your back and saying soothing things before exiting out your door with a chorus of goodbye’s.

You glance back at the scrunchie again as the waterworks set off, feeling absolutely pathetic being upset over someone who made it clear to you from the start that he didn’t want a relationship. Part of you feels now that he was never against a relationship, he just didn’t seek that in you. You knew that some kind of conversation with Harry was overdue, the way you left things hanging the week prior unacceptable to both of you, regardless of any embarrassment or resentment. Apologies were owed and air needed to be cleared.

You grab the dreaded scrunchie from your desk and tie your hair up in a furious manner, all of your actions being exaggerated due to the massive amounts of rage and adrenaline coursing through your body at this moment, you felt as though you couldn’t decide between crying or shouting.

It continued as you got dressed. Crying as you pulled up your jeans, shouting profanities as you struggle to pull on your hoodie, crying as you found one of his stupid fucking rings under your bed…one he’d lost after coming over about a month ago, shouting at your reflection for being such a hopeless romantic with the wrong men. Your neighbours must’ve thought some odd things as you stormed out of the house, chucking a couple of hoodies in the passenger seat of your car.

The only barrier you face now is the short walk from your car to the front door of his luxurious home. You aren’t sure who’s going to be there, you aren’t sure if he’s going to kick you out. You just need the closure, so you can move on. The easiest way for you to get past something was to eject it from your life, so here you are, idling in your car outside the house of the man you think you might be falling in love with – ready to close that chapter of your life. You both wanted different things.

You’re about to leave your car which is tucked neatly round the side of his house, the place he’d advised you to use in the past, when you hear his front door swing open in the distance.

“I’ll see you later, H. Don’t stress it too much, we’ve got the PR team on damage control.”

You recognise the male voice as Harry’s manager, possibly there to discuss Harry’s documentation of his night out last night which was plastered on every sight you can think of. Harry doesn’t offer much of a response, a few mumblings leaving his chest which you can’t make out from your clandestine spot. Jeff’s car exits the security gates of Harry’s home and speeds down the road, though you don’t hear Harry’s front door close. You round the corner from where your car is parked and see him still stood there, looking like death warmed up. He already knows you’re here by the looks of it, his gaze following your small frame shrouded in his clothing as he unlocks his gate without hesitation. The air around the pair of you feels thick and unwanted, like neither of you want to gain any more closeness than the security of the gate which separated you both. He doesn’t spare you a look as you reach the foyer, not bothering to take off your shoes as you know your stay won’t be long…and he doesn’t deserve your politeness at this moment.

As you enter his barren house, you can almost see the two of you materialised in every corner, feeling reminiscent of something still so fresh.

“Chuck ‘em on the sofa, please.” His voice is gruff and tired, and you comply, tossing his clothes to his royal blue furniture. You can’t help but cringe as they fall strewn, and the clean freak in you ends up trying to quickly re-fold the messy items.

“Hey, you don’t have to—” he cuts off when you scoff, finishing the folding and digging your hand in the pocket of your jeans.

“I found your teddy bear ring,” your tone is nonchalant and dull, the ring suspended in the air between you, “thought you’d want it back.”

Harry’s hand reaches out for you to drop in into his palm, but you beat him to the punch by dropping it on to the coffee table, not wanting to engage in any physical contact out of fear you might cave. You also pettily wanted him to feel slightly guilty.

“Listen, I get why you’re angry, but can’t we be mature about this?” He says, and you can’t believe he’s trying to take the high road when he’d stormed out like you were both on a reality TV show.

“That’s rich coming from you, storming out of my house like a teenager and then not answering my texts. I’m looking at you right now and all I see is arrogance, Harry.” Even you’re surprised by your clipped tone, and his face contorts in irritation, his hand rifling through his long messy hair. You subconsciously reach out to adjust your scrunchie at the same time.

“I had some shit to think about. You unloaded all those fucking things on me that night and I had to remove myself before I said something hurtful.” You’re not sure why this makes you squirm slightly, the thought that he had more ammo that he was suppressing.

“I’m sorry that I’m such a fucking liability, Harry. I was plastered, for God’s sake! I wasn’t planning on telling you all of that shit, hell, I wasn’t planning to keep on seeing you for much long after because of it all.” You can feel yourself getting upset again but you refuse to cry in front of him. It was the truth, you knew it had to come to an end now you’d caught feelings, but you didn’t think it would crash and burn like this.

He doesn’t seem to have a rebuttal, choosing to just stare at the ring on the coffee table in silence, his thoughts so loud you could almost hear them.

“Don’t try and make me out like I’m doing something wrong by having feelings for you.” You punctuate your sentence with arms folding across your chest, waiting for him to finally spit something out. He sighs, stepping closer cautiously.

“Those pictures, they aren’t at all what it looks like. She was really fucking drunk, I was just taking her home.” He pleads, gesturing with his hands to express his point.

“Harry that’s not my issue here. My issue is that you’re somehow unable to have an adult conversation about emotional relationships when it makes you uncomfortable. I get it, okay! The thought of me having feelings for you is apparently so unbearable—"

“I never said that.” He clips. You pinch the bridge of your nose.

“I didn’t need you to Harry. I didn’t come here to argue either, I just came to drop off your stuff and cut this final tie off.” Your eyes begin to sting slightly but you push the emotion back deep into the depths of your subconscious, never to be confronted or freed again.

“Why does it have to be like this?” He looks between your eyes rapidly, brows furrowed and face displaying that of frustration. You try to ignore the way he adjusts his hair falling in a part across his head, something you used to love doing yourself.

“Because as much as you hate to admit it, you can’t bear the thought of being committed to someone like me.” You huff, bottom lip trembling. Harry rubs in between his eyebrows.

“Don’t tell me how I feel, for God’s sakes.” His voice travels into the now stagnant air and you don’t feel as though you have much more to say. The only thing that goes through your head at this moment in time is the notion of ‘if he wanted to, he will’. Men like harry don’t usually beat around the bush with their feelings, and it was laid right in front of your eyes – Harry was using you as a rebound for his ex, and he was still in love with her. Simple as. And with that thought in mind, you adjust the cuffs of your shirt and sniff the stuffiness from your nose from the impending tears.

“Whatever it is you’re feeling, Harry - I’m not waiting around to hear it.” You say, eyes sharp and locked on his to solidify your point. His eyes are vacant looking back at you, and follow your figure as you turn to leave his house, leave him behind.

“I’m fucking in love with you, you know that?” He yells as you’re halfway through the threshold of the door. You wish that this was like a film or something, that you’d stop in your tracks and turn back to him, running into his arms and making up in the beat of a heart. But this was real-life, real-life feelings and real hurt that you were feeling. You turn around, tears falling freely now.

“No you’re fucking not.” You whisper. His hand slips to your cheek and he has a pained look on his face and you’re shaking your head with your eyes screwed shut. He tries to convince you with small murmurs of your name.

“But you still love her, don’t you?” Your vision is bleary as you finally try to look at him. Even through the fogged vision you see the chagrin on his face as he tells you after a pause that he doesn’t know. With that, you slip away from his hold and watch your breath in the cold air, leaving his house for the last time with a small kiss on his cheek.

He doesn’t follow you this time.

.

PART II IS NOW UP!

[book-place]

Scared Silly

Warnings: cursing, bad scary writing, haunted houses, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Hargreeves siblings x sister reader

*not my gif*

Summary: You and your siblings decide to try something different for Halloween this year, and it doesn’t exactly go as planned

A/N: Halloween Event 🎃

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

“For the record,” Allison piped up, wearily eyeing the door in front of her, “This was not what I had in mind when we said we would do something fun for Halloween.”

“Well, Allison,” Five said, shoving his hands in his pockets, smiling sarcastically, “It was either this, or resurrecting the dead.” He sent to pointed look in yours and Klaus’s direction, “And we all know how that ended last year.”

You threw your hands up in mock surrender, “Well, excuse me if I didn’t realize that spell would also open up a portal to hell in our living room!”

Luther shuddered slightly at the memory, “I’ll take the haunted house over going through that again any day.” He admitted.

“I think it’ll be fun.” Viktor spoke up, ever the glass-half-full sibling.

“Are you guys sure I can’t just wait for you out here?” Ben asked hesitantly, looking paler than normal.

“Oh, come on, Benny boy!” Klaus sang dramatically, slinging an arm over his brother's shoulder, “It’ll be fun… just don’t be the last one in the room with them.” He made his voice extra creepy towards the end, and the black haired man visibly started shaking a little bit.

Five rolled his eyes at the theatrics his brother liked to put on, “Don’t listen to him, Ben, it’s just a bunch of underpaid college students in costume, none of it is real.”

“Unless it is.” Klaus leaned over to whisper in his ear once Five looked away.

“I still think this is stupid.” Diego finally said after having his speaking privileges provoked by Five on the way over for complaining.

“I don’t remember giving you permission to speak again.” Five hissed, the headache the man had caused earlier coming back to him.

“And I don’t remember putting you in charge!” He snapped back, stomping his foot once against the ground like a child.

“Next!” The employee in front of the building called, effectively cutting off any more sibling banter.

Everybody froze, none of them wanting to go in first until Five rolled his eyes and pushed to the front of the group, “You’re all idiots.” He stated.

None of you even had the strength to protest as you hesitantly trailed after your brother.

You were caught between Ben and Allison, the former gripping onto your hand tightly without a word, and the ladder linking your arms for comfort for the both of you.

The door was opened with an eery creek, and you all piled into the dark hallway with Five in the lead, and Luther in the back, much to his protest.

“Someone go behind me!” He whisper shouted at his siblings, glancing behind him through the almost pitch black room.

“Hell no!” You used the same tone of voice as you replied, gripping onto Ben and Allison tighter.

All of you took slow, calculated steps forward, even Five had faltered a bit at the fact that nothing had happened yet.

Klaus dramatically threw his arms around Diego’s waist in terror and pulled himself into his brothers chest.

“Get off me,” The man hissed, flinging his hands away from him.

The long haired man stumbled back, but instead of hitting a wall, he hit a man who was dressed entirely in black, except for a mask of pure white that lit up all of a sudden, having gone completely unnoticed until then.

“Jesus! Klaus!” Diego cried, blindly flailing around until he caught onto his brother's arm and pulled him back towards him.

Klaus let out a mix between a shriek and wail, stumbling back into the group as you and Allison in sync let out yelps of surprise and Ben screamed in shock.

The man in the mask stood completely still, but titled his bright mask to the side as if he were staring at the siblings.

“No, no, no, nope,” Luther kept repeating, hurriedly ushering his family out of the room, muscles tensing as the masked man continued to stare after them.

By then, he wasn’t the only one that was tense. Five had taken his hands out of his pockets and Ben looked right about ready to faint.

Immediately after stepping into the next room, the sound of crazed laughter filled all of your ears, and the grip Ben had on your hand had begun to make you lose feeling.

“Just me,” Viktor quickly whispered into your ear over the noise before grabbing onto your shoulder, the total darkness making you two not want to get separated.

“This is fucking insane.” Diego said, wavering voice letting the others know that he was scared as well.

Then, without warning or so much as a sound, a dark, unrecognizable figure popped up right in front of you, screaming in your face.

A scream of your own left your lips as you stumbled back, accidently slipping out of all three of your siblings' grips and just barely catching yourself right before you hit the ground.

“Y/n!” Everyone called out in sync, worry filling their features.

The maniacal laughter returned and your eyes turned to the woman who’s dark silhouette was shaking, “Y/n! Y/n! Y/n!” She shrieked over and over again.

Ben had finally passed out and fallen into Allison’s hold, who was supporting his weight completely as he lost whatever little strength had been keeping him up in the first place.

Viktor stumbled over to you, grabbing onto your arm and pulling against it so that you would stand up, Five quickly rushing over and doing the same with the other one.

“That’s it!” He announced over the woman’s continual taunting, finally able to help his brother haul you to your feet, “We’re out of here!”

None of you had to be told twice as your eyes locked onto the large ‘exit’ sign in the corner for anyone who wanted to leave early and practically knocked the door off the hinges as you all piled out into the dark night.

The door slammed behind all of you, and it was silent for a moment as you all bent over and tried to catch your breaths, Ben having woken up as well.

“So,” You finally panted out, “Can anyone else go for some apple pie right now?” You asked as if nothing happened.

Diego went along with it and nodded, straightening out and running a hand through his hair, “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind a slice right now.”

One by one, all of your siblings chorused their own agreements, too embarrassed to acknowledge what had just happened.

And so, you all made your way to the closest grocery store on Halloween night, acting as if none of you had just been scared out of your minds in a cheap haunted house.

The Hargreeves🦹-@lovanitu @your-local-questioning-agender @jvdethirlwall @ineedmorefanfics2 @sambucky8 @spidyyparker @mukbee @i-writes-things

[roseverdict]

ooPS I ACCIDENTALLY TOOK THAT ONE CRACK AU IDEA WHERE KAI IS EVERY INHUMAN THING THE OTHER NINJA WIND UP AS AT ONCE AND I MADE IT ANGST

join me and cry. also no beta i just cranked this nightmare sequence out over the course of the day lol

unrelated but i write in a notes app that doesn't allow bolding or italicing so i just do markup so i know what to do later and copypasting right into tumblr automatically formatted it??? fuckin wild man

~

"We just have to give him time. I dunno how I would feel if I was told I was a robot." "You mean a nindroid." "…yeah, whatever."

Kai and Jay, S1E7, Tick Tock

After the day he'd had, Kai was ready for a nice, restful night of sleep to take him the moment his head hit the pillow.

So, of course, the moment he collapsed into bed is the moment alarms go off, making him lurch forward and nearly fall off the bed.

Kai stumbles to his feet and flails blindly ahead of himself, managing to catch his balance by leaning on Zane.

Zane chuckles and lets him stay there a moment to regain his bearings. "This never gets any easier, does it?"

Kai blinks blearily at him "Whuh?"

"I said, 'Still feeling the taste of video game defeat?'" Zane calls over the blaring of the alarms.

"Maybe a little," Kai huffs good-naturedly. "Come on, let's go catch up to the others."

Zane nods, and the two of them rush out of the bunkroom to do exactly that.

Almost before Kai knows it, the monastery gives way to a snowy forest. He's lost track of the others, but he follows tracks left in the snow for what feels like forever-!

He's inside a tree.

It doesn't look like the inside of a tree. He doesn't know if he even saw the outside before entering, but in some part of his mind, he knows that this tiny little lab-shed is in a tree.

The eerie familiarity of the place gives him the creeps.

Kai wants to turn around and leave, maybe he can wait for the others to get here before investigating-

His hands move without his consent, one uncovering a blue sheet of paper with silvery designs on it, the other leaning heavily on a scepter of some kind.

His own face stares blankly up at him from the page.

As if in a trance, something in Kai's chest opens and there are switches and wires and golden snow that grows faster than he can leap back in shock and his insides feel like they're full to bursting with dark ice and he's about to EXPLODE-

Kai reels back in surprise from-

-the Fangpyre skeleton laid out in the bridge of the Bounty.

This is a completely natural order of events, save for the fact that his finger feels somewhat sore.

Kai shrugs and heads out. There's been Serpentine activity spotted at Megamonster Amusement Park lately, after all, and if that's not something for the Ninja, then he doesn't know what is.

He runs across Jay on his way out and snorts. "Who are you looking to impress, buddy? The snakes?"

"The Sea," says Jay.

Kai cleans out his ear. "What was that?"

"Hey, let a guy finish!" Jay snaps lightheartedly. "It's Nya, if you must know."

Kai knows he can trust Jay with his sister, no matter what happens, on some implicit level he can barely understand. Instead of saying this outright, however, he just smiles. "Break a leg, buddy."

Jay nods and scurries off, and Kai turns to follow when he notices a sickly-green tinge to his skin.

"What?"

He hurries to a mirror to find scales growing in over his skin, and even jutting out oddly from the panels in his chest and arm.

Even as he watches, however, the scales ripple and spread outward, soon turning as blue as the sky. His hair bleaches white, and as he grabs his toothbrush to pull back his lips- are those fangs?!- his reflection scowls at him.

"Hey, dummy!"

Kai yelps as his own words (when, when did he say this?!) are turned back onto him with more venom than he'd thought he was capable of.

"Yeah, I'm talking to you," snarls his reflection. "Would you get your head on straight and start doing your job?"

"My…my job?" breathes Kai.

(wrong wrong wrong something is very wrong)

"You know, protecting your family?" his double drawls. "That thing you claim is the reason you became a ninja in the first place? The fate of the world kinda rests on it!"

Kai shakes his head- he doesn't know what is going on here but he doesn't like it- and bolts outside, ignoring his double's enraged protests.

(Something tells him that if he stayed behind, he'd just get a fist to the face for his trouble.)

He's at the amusement park in a flash, a stupid little electric-blue tail poking out under his gi no matter how much he adjusts it. Eventually he gives up and glances around the deserted park for any sign of movement.

"Hey, Kai! Over here!" Cole calls, waving him over to the haunted house attraction.

Kai is quick to run over. "You find anything?"

"I think so. I saw something purple run in here," Cole explains. "I'd bet you money that it's Pythor looking for that scroll Master Wu told us about."

Kai nods. "You call the others. I'm getting a head start."

Neither of them state the obvious fact that he can't still be inside at sunup, or else.

"Got it," says Cole.

As Kai rushes inside, he swears he can hear Cole say something like, "It's so easy to be forgotten."

However, he's already inside, and the doors slam shut behind him before he can ask.

Nervously, he sneaks through the endless sprawling halls in search of the snake he's chasing. The entire place is dead as the grave, and it's just as quiet.

Then Kai finds the room.

There is no Pythor here, nor is there any scroll, but the moment he steps inside, it is as though the world around him solidifies.

Ironically enough, it feels as though the old man's ghost in the middle of the room is the source of the solidity.

"How did you get here, child?" asks the ghost shortly.

"The front door," answers Kai. He frowns. "You're not Pythor."

The old man lifts an eyebrow, stroking his pitch-dark beard. "Oh? I highly doubt thoughts of Pythor, of all people, would lead your consciousness to my little corner of reality. Not since you ninja fixed up this place and returned it to its status as a tourist attraction for me, anyway."

None of the old man's words make any sense.

"Ah, I see the illusion still has you," the old man says, as if he's piecing something together. "I suppose I will leave you to it, then. However, if anything follows you to the waking world, let it be this: A sword sharpened too often soon wears away into nothing. Just as a blade requires cleaning to retain its shine, so, too, does a warrior require time to reflect."

"What's that even supposed to mean?" demands Kai.

"If you remember after this, you will know," instructs the old man. "Now leave me. Your illusion has not yet run its course, and you are running low on time."

"You keep saying illusion-?" Kai tries.

"It's not really an illusion, but to say its name would mean cutting it off abruptly, and your mind is not yet finished," the man huffs impatiently. "Now leave me!"

There's a power in the words that had been missing the first time, and Kai is flung from the oddly-solid room and into nothingness.

The amusement park is completely gone at this point, leaving only a swirling mass of undead greens that rise up and blow past Kai without slowing his fall.

He crash-lands face-first on some kind of wood paneling, and he peels himself up and off it just in time to leap away from a spray of water.

Kai can't afford to be touched by water anymore.

There's a creaking sound as the ramshackle village around him is warped and twisted, and Kai barely has the presence of mind to leap to a miraculously-untouched portion of wooden deck.

Before him stands the Preeminent.

Behind the Preeminent stands a titan made of stone.

Off to the side, a sea serpent he knows implicitly to be Wojira races closer.

Lloyd and Nya are hidden away in one of the untouched alcoves nearby, and they frantically gesture him closer.

"You'll never be enough!" says Lloyd worriedly.

"How much more can you endure?!" adds Nya, reaching out her hand as if begging him to take it.

Kai tries to run to them, only for a rock crackling with purple energy to come crashing down, sending all three of them plummeting into the sea.

Kai feels like he should have poofed out of being the moment the water touched him, but instead, he finds himself adrift in the endless sea.

Emperor Garmadon's voice slithers into his ears as if the man is right behind him. "You're no ninja. You're barely even a half-rate elemental. How you could have ever thought you could be fit for the title of the Green Ninja is beyond me. Look at yourself. Can you even recognize your own face?"

Kai shakes his head furiously. So what if he has-

-mechanical wiring that's being shorted out from this much time underwater?

-cold blood that's only getting colder, a mind that's only getting drowsier, the longer he stays down here?

-a ghost's inability to touch water, all the while being surrounded by it?

-the weight of a prophecy dragging him down beneath the waves, lower and lower and lower-?

Wait.

Some part of Kai's mind sluggishly rebels, screaming at the top of its tiny lungs that nothing about this situation is real.

When Kai opens his mouth to shoot back a snarky comment at Emperor Garmadon, however, the sea just rushes inside of him, overtaking his every cell, his every breath-

The endless sea shoots into him-

-and rejects him.

Smoke bubbles out from the panels in his body, the scales sprouted along his arms are flung away with his fake skin as the water tears him to shreds from the inside out, agonizingly, viciously, the green light of the Preeminent grows and grows above the surface until it's all he can see-!

Kai opens his mouth and SCREAMS-!

-and then his alarm went off, and the nightmare was pushed back with each round of beeps.

Kai snapped awake, his skin clammy, his breathing loud, and his heart threatening to beat right out of his chest.

It took him a second, but he eventually sighed and slouched forward, burying his head in his hands.

It was coming up on the one-year anniversary of Kalmaar's attack on Ninjago City and Nya's subsequent sacrifice.

"It should have been me," said Kai brokenly, thinking about everything his siblings had given up and none of it at once.

Were he at the monastery, someone would be there for him to talk to.

But he wasn't. He wasn't at the monastery, and he hadn't been for months. He was in his room at his little dojo.

"It should have been me," Kai moaned, pulling his knees up and digging them into his suspiciously-wet eyes.

Were he at the monastery, he'd worry that someone could see him break down.

But he wasn't.

He wasn't, because Nya never could be again, and he felt a lot like the protagonist in that one dystopia series Nya had gotten into back when they both lived at the smithy. After everything the main character had gone through, her sister, the whole reason she'd done any of it, was just gone.

Nya was gone.

After all of them spent years flirting with death, the only friend he'd known since childhood was gone.

His voice was thick, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Not anymore.

"Why couldn't it have been me?"

[mc-lukanette]

Hear me out... Scarlet Lady AU, but it’s Lukanette

(takes place after “Captain Hardrock”)

Luka hunched over his guitar, only for another sting of pain to hit his back. He groaned, straightening up instead, but that somehow made the soreness even worse. Juleka chuckled at him from her place on her bed, having long since given up on moving her muscles at all and preferring to laze around.

He shot her a glare, but didn't comment so as to not encourage her. As he'd predicted, they were indeed sore from trying to stop the Liberty yesterday, his arms wordlessly complaining whenever he tried to do anything with them. He didn't regret it, but it'd also made making new songs a hassle, worsened by the fact that he'd very much gotten inspiration courtesy of Marinette.

After trying to ignore the soreness for around ten minutes, he heard a set of footsteps from above deck, from someone who was clearly heading down below. He knew they couldn't have been his mother - the signature "clack" of her boots sounded much different - but it also seemed somewhat familiar.

He realized it a bit too late, just in time for Marinette to get downstairs and pop her head into the room. "Hi!"

He sucked in a breath as subtly as possible, maintaining his poker face as he replied, "Hey."

"Hey," Juleka greeted, rotating her arm just enough to wave and clearly not wanting to put in more effort than that. She didn't even turn her head.

Luka chuckled. "Jule's busy today if you needed her for something."

"Shut up," she hissed. "It was your idea."

"Huh?" Marinette asked, looking back and forth between the two. "Oh! No, I was here to see Luka, actually—not that I'm not happy to see you too, Juleka! Just..." She grinned sheepishly and rubbed the back of her head.

Marinette was there... to see him? Not his sister?

Luka glanced down, confirming that he was still wearing pants and therefore this wasn't a dream about to go horribly wrong.

Juleka's eyes flicked over to the two of them, her head having to actually move to do so. She squinted, like she was analyzing something, then groaned and slammed her hands down on the bed. She pushed herself up, clearly ignoring the way her body protested, then began her walk across the room.

Just before she reached the doorway, she leaned back to make eye contact with Marinette, warning her, "Careful with him. He's creaking like the floorboards."

Luka shot Juleka a glare, but she'd already zipped out of the room before he could blindly grab his pillow to throw at her.

For being so sore, you sure got away quickly, he thought, very much aware that she left because him being mushy with Marinette (also known as "normal and understandable because look at her") was "gross."

Marinette's eyes followed Juleka until the retreating footsteps could be heard moving up deck, then turned back to Luka. "Creaking?"

"Ah—" Well, there went any hope of avoiding that topic. "We used Chat's baton yesterday to stall the ship, but it was hard even with all seven of us. We're all still a little sore from it."

She furrowed a brow, like something had confused her, but then shook her head and replied, "Oh, that really does sound tough! I'm sorry I couldn't be there!"

"It's okay." He smiled reassuringly, remembering what he'd been told before. "You were the one who got Marigold there. She saved us."

Her cheeks turned pink and he vaguely wondered if it was obvious how cute he thought - knew - she was. She ducked her head, then did a small wiggle of her hips before abruptly looking back up at him. "Um—! That's actually what I came to talk you about? I mean—not Marigold—or her saving you—or me and Marigold—but—"

Luka snorted, lightly patting the spot on his bed next to him instead of replying. The familiar gesture caught her attention, her voice trailing off as she slowly made her way over to sit next to him. She toyed with her fringe, seeming to get her words in order, then turned to look at him.

"I never got to thank you," she said. When he tilted his head in confusion, she clarified, "I wouldn't have been able to call Marigold if you hadn't saved me."

He smiled warmly at her. "It was nothing, Marinette."

"No, really, you thought so quick!" she insisted, leaning towards him with her hands flat on the mattress to support herself. "And you stayed behind too to make sure Captain Hardrock was fooled! That was brave of you."

He leaned away, face flushing red as he tried to control the stupid grin on his face. "Thanks. You were really brave too, finding a way out to get Marigold's attention."

He didn't tell her that he purposefully didn't hide with her because the sound of his heartbeat would've given their hiding spot away.

Marinette beamed at him, but seemed to realize how close she'd been leaning and pulled back with a sheepish grin. Luka returned to his original position too, but flinched when his spine rejected the movement with a spike of pain. He let out a mix of a groan and a sigh, Marinette's brows raising in concern.

"I could give you a massage...?"

The headstock of Luka's guitar hit the bed as he jerked his head up, the instrument in his lap forgotten as he stared ahead at Marinette, eyes wide. She was looking back at him with a blank expression, like she hadn't fully realized what she'd said.

Then, it hit her, and he swore he saw her pigtails bounce up in shock as her face shifted to realization.

"I-I just—I mean—!" She flailed her arms at him. "See, my papa always does it for my maman and—when you groaned like that it reminded me of it—so—"

The fact that she'd compared his bones to those of an aging adult went ignored in favor of noticing that she hadn't even tried to take the offer back. His heart pounded like the inside of his body was a brand new drumset, and he could only utter a weak, "Okay," in reply.

She'd still been rambling at the time, but somehow his voice managed to break through. She paused mid-sentence, her mouth still open as she processed his answer. "...Really?"

He merely nodded, not trusting his voice to avoid cracking if he tried to respond.

"Oh. Um, alright, oh..." she mumbled to herself, clearly having not expected to get this far.

Luka felt the bed shift underneath him as Marinette maneuvered herself behind him, at which point it really hit him that she was seriously about to massage him. He leaned forward, mentally preparing himself, though was quickly reminded of the guitar still resting in his lap. He pulled it off and set it where Marinette had originally been sitting, resting his hands in front of himself afterward.

The silence dragged for a moment, and he could sense Marinette's eyes on him, as if she were debating with herself on how to go about massaging him. He opened his mouth to give her an out, but all manner of coherent speech left him as her hands pressed into his back, thin fingers sliding along his shoulders and squeezing. He sucked in a breath, oxygen having a hard time getting into a body already stuffed full of feelings.

It was heaven, and added several sheets worth of music that he desperately needed to write.

"I-is this alright?" she asked. "Am I doing well?"

He tried to reply, but all that left his mouth was a sound that was both inhuman and embarrassing. Pressing one hand into the mattress, he covered his mouth with the other, his face turning red as he briefly debated on living in the drawer underneath his bed in lieu of having a hole to crawl into.

He changed his mind. It was hell. She was doing amazing but that was the problem and it was hell.

Marinette giggled, the sound he made apparently being answer enough for her as she continued massaging him. Her embarrassment had left by that point and he couldn't help being jealous of it, as his own had doubled.

After a few seconds had passed, Marinette spoke up again, "So, ah..."

He wasn't sure if she genuinely had a question or was trying to spare him, but he'd take it either way. "Mm?"

"I was wondering. Since Jagged's your favorite singer, what do you think of XY?"

He let out another sound, less involuntary than the last at least, though it was still too high-pitched to make anyone believe that he wasn't affected by Marinette's motions. He cleared his throat, making sure he sounded as normal as possible before answering, "The flaws in his music stick out like his hair."

The hands on his back froze, Marinette snickering and then full-on laughing. "Oh, you think so too?"

He grinned like the fool he was, tempted to look back at her but feeling like it'd be rude. "Yeah. I can't stand his music."

"Me neither. It's so... bland and uninspired."

The mental image of them drop-kicking XY into the Seine together entered his mind, a blissful sigh escaping him just in time for Marinette to restart her massage.

"You're really passionate about music," she observed, almost sounding as if she'd been talking to herself. "It almost makes me wish I played an instrument."

"I can give you lessons," he blurted out, then immediately backpedaled with an, "if you want, anyway."

Her tone lightened. "Thanks. I might have to take you up on that. Just... not when I'm so busy."

He shrugged his shoulders, both of which already felt infinitely better under her touch. He could tell she wasn't lying, so he wasn't offended by the hesitance.

As her hands trailed down his back and he tried not to look as if every touch was sending his heart on tour, she hummed thoughtfully, like her body was there but her mind was elsewhere.

"...Hey," she called. He waited, knowing that there was something else, and she continued, "Have you ever... been stuck between songs?"

"Stuck between songs?" he echoed, trying to piece together what she meant.

"Yeah, like—" She made an unsure sound - unfortunately not an embarrassing one like his when she pressed into his lower back - then clarified, "—maybe there are a few songs you like, and it's hard picking your favorite? Or you have some songs you want to write, but don't know which one to go with?"

He got the distinct feeling that she wasn't talking about music, but it was adorable how she worded it in a way relating to his specialty so he could help her. He mulled over the question seriously, the most difficult task just being drawing enough focus away from her movements so he could answer her.

"A few times," he replied. "It all comes down to feeling then. My favorite song or the one I want to write could just be which one I'm curious about."

"What do you mean?"

"Well—" He blushed faintly, completely unaware that his metaphors were syncing with hers. "—a song that I want to know more about; to listen to over and over until I know it intro to outro. A song that makes me want to keep writing." He glanced over his shoulder at her, hoping the eye contact might help carry the meaning along. "I think those are the best kinds."

Her brows were furrowed in thought, as if he'd given her a hard equation that she was struggling to solve. He faced forward again to hide his smile when he noticed the spark of recognition in her eyes, like the metaphor had stuck and he'd actually helped her.

"I think I get it," she confirmed, the massage briefly stopping as she made idle circles on his back; still equally as distracting if he were honest. Even though he couldn't see her face, he could hear the smile in her voice as she said, "I like this one."

"What one?" he asked obliviously, though she didn't answer the question and pressed into his back again, making him squeak and forget his curiosity altogether.

The conversation ended there, lulling into something peaceful and comfortable. Luka actually found himself relaxing without much embarrassment, though there was still some pink to his face from his newfound crush giving him a massage. He just hoped he could make it through the rest of their time together without her realizing what a mess he was.

Then, as if something had occurred to her, Marinette noted casually, "Oh, I should do your arms next."

Luka's face burned. This girl was going to kill him.