#gonna have to go back through all these afterwards and make a second prompt list

[isca-rambles]

5x03 Not even a hug or kiss between Lucy and Chris. Oh girl. And also oh Chris, how could you not notice she wasn't as into this relationship as you. Also Chris is allowed to process and deal with his trauma however he wants, but the fact that he keeps pushing Lucy into taking part by reading the motherdoc, that he's using her story in his conversations with them, it's not a great look. Again, acolyte/fanatic vibes. But also, the fact that he's giving them details of the case. Fucking idiot. Grey giving our girl all the praise. He really is such a proud pseudo father. Even in S6 when she's sorely lacking support from her people, Grey is still there for her. I really hope we get more of them in S7. She had such a wonderful relationship with Captain Andersen that we never got to properly explore, and she needs a mentor who can support her. She looks so uncomfortable with public praise, fiddling with her thermos (I need a fic about that thermos. it's like her safety blanket when she's in the briefing room) but she also thrives on it so much. I get that 100%. I'm definitely far more uncomfortable with praise and compliments than her, I actively just fight back against them out of distrust and insecurity, but god there's a part of me that just lights up inside when I get a hint of approval. Aaron looking proud, Nolan too, all the nameless or named background characters giving our girl her dues. And Tim...ach Tim, that soft little proud smile he has just for her. The heart eyes that boy is giving out in front of everyone. Celina you sweet cinnamon roll! I'm so sorry she's had such a rough time as a rookie, being bounced around and mainly having Nolan train her. Again, I don't think Nolan is terrible at being a TO. I just don't think he was ready. I know they were literally out of TOs at this point (which is why I think they might have Lucy become a TO too in S7 since she can't be a detective yet without something big shaking things up for her, and I don't know how much they'll be putting her in UC without it taking her out of episodes completely), but I just don't think he was ready. He could've done with shadowing a TO and their rookie for a month or two, honestly. Or co-TOing. But yeaaah. Poor Celina.

Aww, Lucy and Jan having a little catch-up in the background. I do love the named background characters who are just always there. And Lucy just proudly watching Nolan and Celina because that's who she is, and promptly jumping in to offer help and friendship because she's a literal angel. But good god, Lucy not having stripes while Nolan does is just gutting. There is no way she should be without stripes all the way into S6 and probably S7. It's wrong. If they maybe did it to point out how difficult it can be for women and POC to advance in their careers, even without all the 5 player trade stuff, then maybe it'd feel less gutting but they don't. That look between them. Ahhhhh. Lucy and Wes being buddies yes I need more of this please. His little smile when he sees its her calling. Yes I know she's mostly calling to ask about Chris but this obviously isn't the first time they've spoken on the phone. Just let them be buddies. Lucy and Wes and James chilling out after work and saving the world while their partners watch on adoringly at their smart sunshine human beings. I need these fics until we get it in canon, please and thank you. I'm really surprised they didn't make more of Lucy being trapped in that small space. Maybe she's worked past that now but it would've been a good peek into her and how she's still handling her trauma. It didn't need to be a big thing, just something little. But eh. I mean there are notes of her being uncomfortable about the situation, but that mostly seems like frustration.

Nolan is just too gentle with her as a rookie. Don't get me wrong, Celina shouldn't be doing things against her TO's say-so, but he's just not being commanding enough. Lucy is a gentle TO too but she's still got a better handle on talking to people. Okay so this is nothing against Chris' actor but I feel like he just...smiles way too much. In every scene, he's either smiling or on the brink of smiling. I think that's what unsettles me so much about his character.

God, Lucy is so smart. She's got that document for all of an hour, barely that, and she's cracking the case.

Okay so where are all the Tim playing PS5 fics? I feel like he'd get way too frustrated by COD or something multiplayer along those lines, so I wonder what he'd play instead. Sports games? Idk, I just play point and clicks and chill games. God Tim's face. I wonder how long he's been sat there willing her to check in on the radio. Trying to tell himself they just missed her while they were up with the teenager, or that she'll call in any second now. How he's been listening to her little check-ins all day, subconciously making note of each and every time he hears her voice so he knows she's okay. How long does he wait before he can't stop himself. He's calculating all the hundred things that could go wrong and lead her to not call in, and he is wound so tight. And the more he talks to Aaron and dispatch, the more he just completely crumbles under the weight of all the many things that could've happened to her. Man is distraught and frantic and just about keeping himself in check.

And I know the parallels have been pointed out before, but him getting the door open vs him getting the barrel lid off. His heart is probably going like a fucking jackhammer, even if it is slowing down a bit now he's heard her voice and knows she's alive. She barely looks at him. She does look at him but there's so much tension in there. She's spiralling because she's been trapped and she's got this information about Rosalind and has had no-one to tell except a smiley face, but he is just transfixed by her. He's probably only just allowing himself to breathe, now that he can see her and see she's not hurt.

Lucy is such a smart bean. Honestly she'd fit right in with the FBI folk. I do think, before she gets to captain (c'mon, she has to get to captain, even if we don't see it in canon), that she would be an amazing teacher. It could start as TO (I know, I know it's a step back for her but realistically unless they give her a golden ticket too or shake things up massively, she's not making detective any time soon) but then she could teach UC. She's so empathetic and she has a great ability to connect with people, and she's so insightful. Teaching what she knows, the way she does things, I can definitely see that for her. Maybe there's an LAPD-FBI liaison position, so she can still be on patrol but she can be the go between. She can use her smarts and her badassery. A good bridge too for if they want to bring the Rookie: Feds folk in more too in S7 now their show's been cancelled. Nolan, this really should've been something you called for back-up on. Or even let Angela and Harper know about ahead of time. Because now you've got a rookie, already proven to act impulsively, out there on her own and no-one to secure the scene or victim. I know there was no guarantee they'd find anything there but still.

We need some Celina and Lucy sparring. Lucy passing on the lessons that Harper taught her about being a woman, especially a woman of colour, on patrol and against foes a lot bigger than them.

Ah Nolan. He is trying. And I know it's part of the plot but I just still think it was too soon for him to have a rookie dependant on him. Tim being a sweetie. No way that S1 Tim would've done all this, especially listening to Aaron, without Lucy's influence. Hah 'Something's not right' Lucy being like 'the fuck haven't you gone in already?!' I mean, tell me Lucy doesn't look good with that FBI badge on her vest? Ya know, I can see why people thought there was going to be more from Rosalind involving Lucy and Tim from the blood lettering. The TIM in Time does seem to be a lot bolder, but I guess you can blame that on her running out of blood. I'm more focused on the LUC in Luck and how close the K is to a Y. But that's just how those letters look. Idk. I'm not upset that Lucy missed being traumatised even further, but I do think Rosalind wouldn't have let Lucy get away from all of this so easily. Chris near-death or not. And Tim would have absolutely been on her radar after he was the one who, on video, opened the barrel and was her fierce protector at the prison. Maybe the writers did have other plans that they had to change because of Annie's illness, which is completely understandable. I'm glad that they could get Annie back for the next episode to wrap up her story, even if it wasn't as satisfying as it could've been.

[charaznablescanontoyota]

mob + shoka + a laundromat late at "night", for the ficlet prompts

[set uhhhh vaguely between episode 14 and baseball. as with all things just pretend they visit this car somewhere in there]

"hey," mob says, passing in front of the washing machine where she's perched with her phone. "are you gonna help?"

"i am helping," shoka says, without looking up. "i'm moral support."

the group has a list of garments they need to find, to exit the car. shoka isn't doing that shit. the cars with an arbitrary list of things you have to find are so boring, and everyone else seems way more goal-oriented than her. they'll get it done in no time.

"you know, i - i still have questions for you," mob says.

"and i told you," shoka says, "i'm not answering."

"i don't get you," mob says.

she smirks. "i'm an enigma, baby. if that's all you've got, you can go back to your little scavenger hunt."

"no, i mean - i don't get you. you follow us away from the apex, you bully your way into coming with us, but you don't want us to know anything about you." mob's come to a full stop in front of her now, twisting whatever shirt or skirt he has in his hands into something more resembling a rope. "you haven't even tried to talk to any of us on, like, a real level besides insulting us. so, uh, i guess my question is, what the fuck is that about?"

"wow, you're swearing now? getting a little edgy since your friend left?"

shoka looks up through her lashes, watching the expression on mob's face skew more and more frustrated. if he stays here long enough, he's going to want to talk about her being dead, how she died, all that crap she doesn't care to answer. she's seen mob psycho 100, so she knows how this works. he finds an in to empathize with her, to make her realize something about herself - and shoka's in the business of a lot of things, but self-introspection isn't one of them.

"i'm trying to have a real conversation," mob says. "if you're going to stick with us, i feel like we deserve-"

"oh, tell me more about what you deserve," shoka says. she puts her phone aside, finally, to look mob in the eye; his gaze slides away from hers, just like she suspected it would. "you know why i haven't tried to talk to you? because i know you, dummy. i've seen your show. hey, i heard you went 100% in the casino, actually. how'd that feel? you scare any of your new friends?"

"that's - none of your business," mob says. his hands are balled into tight fists around the fabric he's holding, his knuckles paper-white.

"you're the one who wanted to talk," shoka says. "is this enough talking for you?"

mob opens his mouth to answer, real annoyance flashing in his eyes for a half-second.

"how's that percentage doing?" shoka asks sweetly, before he can get another word out.

"fine," mob says through his teeth. it's hard to tell if it's an actual answer or if he's just talking to himself, because he turns on his heel and walks off quickly afterwards, joining audrey on the other side of the room.

shoka shrugs and goes back to her phone. better to teach the kid now what happens when you corner a cat.

[sergiovinazzi]

Stolen - Lando Norris x Reader (Chapter Two)

2.9k words, rated E for everyone :)

Lando’s voice, amplified by the TV speakers, echoes around the humming Red Bull garage. “I’m fine but I’ve been better. I can say that I’m not in perfect condition, I’m not gonna lie. Some work to do mentally of course. I talk about that a lot, and mental health and mental strength is very important. I’ve not been sleeping that great and so on… not ideal and I’m feeling a bit sore, but I’m not the guy in the worst position after Wembley. I’ll work on it, I’ll make sure I’m in the best shape possible, and I feel like I can still go out and focus on what I need to do, and that’s the main thing.”

Your mind races as you listen to the boy plastered across the many screens revisit his experience at Wembley. He sounds awful; something about his cadence making it even more obvious that he is really, truly shaken up. The wavering pitch, awkward pausing, fumbling for words; everything about the way he presents himself is serving as a brutal reminder that being physically unscathed is no indicator that harm was not dealt. Even as the interview moves past the topic of last week’s Euro Final, you notice the shift in demeanor and your heart aches. You worry that bringing the watch to him is a bad idea, that it could prompt unbidden memories and disquieting feelings. You understand how big of an event Silverstone is from your dad’s tangents alone, especially for an English team with an English driver, so you reevaluate whether your decision to come was selfish, one made solely to alleviate your own sentiments of guilt rather than to verily right your believed wrongdoings.

On the journey to Silverstone, your dad had made multiple attempts at lessening your stress, even opting for variations of the if he steps out of line I will put him right back in his place father speech. Unfortunately fruitless, your father’s attempts mean you remain just as anxious as when you had first discovered that you managed to obtain a stolen wristwatch.

You’re not sure whether it’s the crisp morning air or your nerves that sends chills across your flesh, but your attempt to ground yourself subtly doesn’t go unnoticed by your dad as he passes you in the garage.

“Time is ticking,” he informs you, a smirk playing on his lips. “No pun intended.”

You roll your eyes in an attempt to downplay your apprehension, but your voice gives away any and all signs of the false confidence you hope to portray. “Can you do it for me?” you plead.

“I can’t just stroll on over to the McLaren garage without an invitation or proper reason, especially not a couple hours before free practice starts. It doesn’t look good.”

“It’s not like me walking in there instead would look any better,” you retort, gesturing to the Red Bull logo plastered across the chest of your black polo. “Your branding isn’t what I would call subtle.”

“Look, the McLaren team are a good sort. They’ll help you out if you just explain the issue and show them the watch. I’m sure Lando will understand too, he seems like a pretty nice bloke,” your dad reassures you.

Sighing, your eyes meet the floor, fingers intertwined with each other as you fidget incessantly. Before you can speak up in further defiance, however, an additional set of footsteps grow nearer and you freeze at the voice which speaks up.

“Christian, how much longer until our media slot?”

You lose your breath momentarily, locking your gaze onto your shoes as you wait for the person to pass by.

“About five minutes, Max,” your dad replies. “We were just about to head over.”

When you hear the footsteps grow fainter, you risk looking up, thankfully being met with only the observance of your father. You don’t even realize that you’ve tensed your body until your dad points it out.

“Relax,” he says. “He’s not going to say anything here, especially not on a race weekend.”

Nodding, you feel your shoulders ease up but you remain quiet.

“Anyways, like I said, our media briefing and interviews start soon and we’re after McLaren this weekend so they should already be back in their garage,” he says, realizing that you still appear troubled by the task ahead of you. “I promise you, everything will be fine. Just go over there and I’ll meet you back here when we’re done. The quicker you head over, the quicker you’re done with it and we can all move on." With that, your dad walks away and you reluctantly leave the Red Bull garage, adjusting your shirt as you straighten up.

You take a brief glance at your phone, turning it off after you try one last time to keep the picture of the boy imprinted in your mind. Eyes darting rapidly, you attempt to scan the paddock for anyone looking remotely like him while you make your way towards the bright orange and blue indicators of the McLaren garage.

The frequency of orange-clad individuals grows the further you stray from the safety of Red Bull’s garage, and you feel your heartbeat begin to increase. Worried that someone would stop you before you could approach the one person you had traveled all the way to Silverstone for in the first place, you quicken your pace.

You’re mere meters away when you spot him. Pushing past a few people while trying to keep your eyes trained on him, you watch as he turns around to talk briefly with the woman next to him.

Huffing, you muster up the little confidence you have and tap him on the shoulder.

His confusion is evident and the blonde woman next to him does not look pleased to have been interrupted. The silence is palpable as they stare at you, expecting an explanation for the abrupt ending of their conversation.

“Hi,” is all you can deliver. You’re at a loss for words while the woman next to him seems to lose what little patience she has with you. Everything you had rehearsed beforehand, gone. Your mind is foggy and your mouth feels dry as you try to compose yourself. “Um, can I talk to you for a second? It won’t be long, I promise.” Your voice breaks at the end and you wish you had never agreed to get on that stupid red-eye to Silverstone in the first place.

Lando offers a look of sympathy and then turns to the woman next to him. “Charlotte, could you just give us a second?”

Pursing her lips and turning on her heel, the woman walks away, heading towards the mouth of the McLaren garage. She’s far enough away that you’re out of earshot, but close enough that you feel her gaze linger as Lando turns back to face you.

“Hey, don’t worry,” he tells you with a smile. “We can take a picture if you want or I can sign some stuff for you.”

“What? No.” You shake your head, mentally slapping your palm against your forehead and forcing yourself to get a grip. Idiot. “Fuck, sorry, that sounded so rude! It’s just-” you rush to explain.

“Oh no, it’s okay!” he stammers. “I should’ve guessed from the Red Bull shirt anway.”

You both share an awkward laugh before you compose yourself and reach a shaky hand into your bag.

“This is going to sound so weird, but I was online shopping for a new watch the other day because I lost mine, and I’m pretty sure I bought the one that was stolen from you. I didn’t know anything about it, I swear. I just...well, here,” you say, offering the watch and its temporary box to Lando.

He looks at you, taking the box only to go wide-eyed at the contents inside.

“I have all the information that I was able to get, but the ad was taken off of eBay and I really wanted to do the right thing and give it back to you. Please don’t be mad.”

“What the hell?!” he exclaims, earning a few looks from people passing by and catching Charlotte’s attention once more. “Sorry, sorry. How did you get this?”

Amused, you laugh quietly while he studies the watch intently. “That was my dad’s reaction too. Basically there was a listing for it on eBay and it was sort of an impulse buy,” you explain. “I didn’t see the news coverage of what happened until afterwards and I felt awful. I’m really sorry you had to go through that, I genuinely had no idea.”

Shrugging, he plays it off. “Nothing I can’t handle.” It’s hard to miss his sudden change in attitude from the interview you watched moments ago and you can’t help but wonder whether he has your or the watch’s presence to thank.

There is a brief moment of silence between you both before he continues. “How much did you pay for it?”

“It was so cheap, honestly,” you say. “Nothing compared to the original price, I’m sure.”

Charlotte, alerted by Lando’s attention-grabbing reaction to being reunited by his watch, returns to where the two of you are standing. “Oh wow, did you find a replacement watch for him?” she asks you, clearly impressed by the apparent likeness.

“No, Charlotte”, he corrects her. “It’s my one. Look.” He hands the watch to his PR manager, who receives it so gently you think she’s afraid it might shatter in her hands. Flipping the watch between her fingers, she studies the small engraving on the underside of the face.

“Oh my god,” she whispers.

Lando nods. “It’s the exact date it was given to me, there’s no way anyone else could know that and make a copy of it.”

You feel the need to justify yourself to her. “It was listed online and I bought it before I knew anything about the situation. I didn’t even really know who Lando was until I saw what happened on the news, I swear.” You anticipate her anger or disapproval, preparing yourself to withstand the lecture you’re about to receive and mentally promising that, as soon as it’s over, you can run back to your dad and tell him you just want to go home.

But it doesn’t come.

“I can’t believe it!” she exclaims. “We all thought we’d never see it again and you found it on accident.” The smile she gives you sets your mind at ease. “Technically, this is a police matter now, so I’ll have to hand it over to the right people, but this helps us tremendously. Did you get any information about the seller?”

You explain the situation to her, about how the listing was taken offline but you have a printout of the messages and address the seller gave you, which you hand her from your bag. She lets you know that someone may get in touch soon to ask questions but not to worry, that it’s only a formality. Eventually, she asks if you’d like to watch free practice from a spot in the mobile hospitality unit, but you politely decline, explaining that you needed to get back to your dad in the Red Bull garage instead.

Charlotte smiles fondly at Lando and presses the brim of his cap down over his eyes. “Come on, you, we have to go and get ready now anyway.”

He takes off his hat, cheeks flushing as he makes an effort to quickly brush the curls lining his forehead, placing it back on and dismissing Charlotte with a wave of his hand. “Okay, just give me a minute.”

Once the two of you are alone, he pulls out his phone. “Do you have Venmo? I’ll pay you back, it’s not fair that you had to waste your money.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.”

Lando seems unconvinced. “It’s really not a problem.”

“Seriously, it’s all good.”

“Well,” he continues awkwardly. “I have to go, but are you here for the whole weekend or...?”

You shake your head. “Just today. I’m not into Formula 1, I find it a little bit boring.”

“Seriously?! The fastest cars in the world and you’re calling it boring? Why even come to something like Silverstone if it’s so boring?” he feigns offense, doing air quotes as he imitates your apparent disdain for the sport.

Laughing quietly, you shrug. “I have family at Red Bull, so it was basically just luck and convenience that you were in the U.K. this weekend,” you clarify. “I don’t really understand Formula 1, that’s all.”

“Fair enough, it’s not for everyone I suppose,” Lando replies. “So who in your family works at Red–” The end of his question is drowned out by the sound of his name called by an evidently disgruntled, impatient engineer.

He sighs. “I’m sorry, I’ve really gotta go, but, um,” he exhales with a nervous laugh. “I still feel like I need to repay you in some way. Do you want to go get a drink after the race on Sunday? I’m busy for the next few days but Sunday night I’ll be free. Only if you want to, of course, I don’t want to, like, pressure you or anything.”

You laugh, appreciative that the nervousness was shared. “That– Yeah, that sounds fine. I’ll give you my number.”

He types your details into his phone before apologizing once more, thanking you again, and rushing off into the garage.

——

On Sunday, you let your dad believe he’s the one who convinced you to stay for the entire race weekend, but it’s the promise of Lando’s company later that night and the endearing text messages on your phone that prompts the desire to see this weekend through. You had spent the previous nights on your phone, going through driver and team Instagram accounts, as well as the F1 website, to get an idea of what to expect. Typically, it would pain you to look through motorsport news pages, especially with so many of the reports centering around Max and his vie for the championship as of late, but you manage.

You notice almost immediately while settling into your spot at the back of the garage that the energy does not match your own. You are enthusiastic and eager, while the rest of the team is stressed and rushes around you. Presumably, it’s because race day impacts their livelihoods and paycheks whereas it only dictates your family’s dinner topics, but, nevertheless, your excitement refuses to simmer.

Unfortunately, if it was weird for you to be seen at the McLaren garage before the first free practice, it would be infinitely more suspicious for you to be lingering around on race day, so you were not able to catch Lando at all since your initial meeting on Friday. However, you made sure to message him good luck beforehand, to which he thanked you and expressed excitement for your upcoming night.

“If you need anything, just ask. I’ll be on the pitwall,” your dad says, snapping you out of your whirring mind. He notices your obscure behavior, quick to comment on it. “Is it weird? Being here after so long?”

You nod, shrugging. “Unusual, for sure. So much has changed since the last time I came and watched, but I’m excited, though.”

“Well, it’s always good to have you here.”

Reciprocating your dad’s grin, you silently send him on his way. He exits quickly and leaves you to your own devices. Though, your own devices look to consist of impatiently waiting for the race to start and scrolling absentmindedly through your phone. Ironically, your boredom with pre-race antics appears to create quite the dichotomy against the chaos exuding from the garage you find yourself encompassed in.

Regardless, your attention is regained when frequent cuts are made to the drivers in their cars, and you recognise that the race will be starting soon. You are temporarily startled when the cars begin moving without hearing an official announcement, but quickly realisee that it is merely a formation lap and no one else around you seems to be paying all too much mind to it.

When the cars return to their positions on the grid, you watch eagerly as the lights flash and the announcers begin yelling. You keep your eyes trained on the orange car towards the front of the grid, watching Lando so intently that you almost miss what happens to the cars in front of him.

Your eyes go wide as you watch the events unfold: the Red Bull car out front collides with what you identify as a Mercedes, spinning and slamming into the barrier. Gasps chorus across the garage as the screens replay slowed clips of the crash as an announcement states that the safety car has been deployed. They replay it from every conceivable angle, your astonishment at the severity is present upon your first viewing, but it’s only after the sixth clip that it clicks in your head that the person in the car is Max.

“For the second time this season, Hamilton and Verstappen clash and tangle on the opening lap, but, this time, it is ending in dramatic consequences for the championship leader.”

If you had perceived the pre-race behavior in the garage as chaotic, this was a whole new level of absurdity.

People rush around you while orders are shouted and frustrations are verbalised.

Your dad is angry.

The last time you recall him behaving like this was when your younger sister had broken the wine glasses he had bought for your mother on their honeymoon. You, however, ignore his yelling and remain encapsulated by the TV, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the events unfolding finally, finally register in your brain.

Car number 33 is in the wall and out of the race, and your ex-boyfriend is inside, silent and unmoving.

____________

tag list @lovebynorth @its-astrotea-love

[aceghosts]

WIP Thursday

Hey Everyone! I’ve been tagged to share what I’m working on by @shallow-gravy, @scungilliwoman, @johnnycranes, @commander-krios, and @adelaidedrubman. Thank you for tagging me!

Tagging: @allthearchetypes, @chyrstis, @gamer-purgatory, @hoesephseed, @spookyvalentine, @henbased, @derelictheretic, @chazz-anova, and anyone else who has anything to share!

Now to what y'all have been waiting for under the cut.

Since I published the second chapter to the Five Years Later AU, I decided to finally finish the first draft of one of the later chapters. Obviously, this is going to contain spoilers, but anyway have a snippet of Joseph and Blue being awkwardly soft with each other (also, warning for mention of vomit):

“When have you ever known me to cause-,’ Joseph opens his mouth, presumably to list all the times Blue has caused trouble, an extensive list so long they'll both be here till the next century, ‘Okay, I promise to not cause trouble. I’ll just try to make friends! I’m great at that!” Although, trying to make friends with former enemies might just be impossible.

He shakes his head, mumbling something that suspiciously sounds like ‘Lord Have Mercy on Us All’. “Please behave.” Joseph repeats, before turning to leave.

“Wait-!” Joseph stops, half turning to face Blue. They impulsively step towards him, leaning up to press a soft kiss on his cheek. “I know you probably did it because you didn’t want me puking all over you while trying to perform a cleansing, but thanks for agreeing not to put Bliss in the water.”

“Blue,’ He says their name so softly, like he’s hurt that Blue would even suggest that Joseph was only thinking of himself, ‘I did not do it for me. I did it for you; your cleansing should be a positive experience. After all, I l-.” Joseph catches himself, swallowing. “You don’t have to thank me.”

His eyes flicker down to their lips, instinctively leaning down towards them. They inhale sharply, almost letting him close the gap. Instead, Blue pulls away, laughing awkwardly. “I-uh-should-uh-get-uh-dinner! YEAH, DINNER!” They say, perhaps a little too loudly and strangely. Blue won’t let him back into their heart, not again. There are people waiting for Blue back in Hope County, where they belong.

This section is probably gonna get a heavy rewrite. I think Blue is being a little too soft, but honestly, I'd prefer to change once I get closer to putting this chapter out. At this point, first drafts are just to get ideas down on the page. Also a meme for what happens immediately afterwards:

And to prove that I don’t only work on stuff for Far Cry stuff, have a short snippet from a Mass Effect prompt (Which I admittedly haven’t touched in a while.):

“Thanks.” Well, that was an encouraging sign. Rooney steps into life support, finding Thane sitting in his usual spot. There’s no steam rising from the mug and Rooney wonders if it’s gone cold by now. “Thane,’ they greet, taking a seat across from him, ‘I wanted to check in on you. I know you went through a lot today.”

“I will be ready for our mission, Shepard. You need not worry about my resolve towards the mission.” He states calmly.

Rooney frowns, eyes narrowing. “I didn’t ask about your resolve towards the mission. I want to know that you are doing okay.” They take his hands into their hands; his green scales cool and rough against their skin. “You can’t lie to me that you weren’t scared for Kolyat.”

[the-last-kenobi]

If you’re still taking prompts: 22. “When you’re feeling better, I swear, we’ll talk this out.” Qui-Gon& Obi-Wan. You’re writing is so lovely btw!!

Yay, more prompts! And I do love this one. Thank you for choosing it!

CW: this one got rather dark. there are heavy implications of and references to attempted assault of a minor, child death, and other horrors of war.

From this various prompts list.

Requests are currently closed.

_

They were three days out from Coruscant when the fever made a turn for the worse.

The Jinn/Kenobi team had been deployed to Calzec III to investigate the disappearance of an ambassador, an assignment that had led them down very dark paths into the minds and heart of a planetary society.

A mere two days into their investigation, Obi-Wan had vanished — kidnapped, it was quickly discovered, by the party responsible for the disappearance and murder of the ambassador.

Qui-Gon had assumed that the six days between Obi-Wan’s abduction and his recovery would be the worst of it.

That the growing dread inside him that had gnawed away at his concentration and serenity, the likelihood that he would not reach his apprentice in time, his fears that Obi-Wan was being hurt, would be the most difficult things to handle.

Or even the mingled relief and panic when he had finally found his sixteen-year-old Padawan bound and unconscious in a cellar with a floor half-flooded in dirty water — that after that, they had survived the worst.

He was mistaken.

Obi-Wan was ill when he was pulled out of that cellar. There was no one to trust and nowhere to flee except off-planet, and the the distance between Calzec III and the nearest medically advanced planet was no shorter than simply returning to Coruscant.

So he set a course for Coruscant and settled Obi-Wan in his bunk, stripping off the soiled clothing he had been wearing since his kidnapping and replacing them with a clean set of tunics.

The boy was exhausted, unfocused; his skin was clammy to the touch and he had brief periods where he seemed fully awake and mostly functional.

After the first day of hyperspace travel, they had settled into a routine. Qui-Gon kept to the cockpit, while Obi-Wan kept to his bunk and the fresher, trying to rest and to contain his illness. Qui-Gon knocked periodically on his door, reassuring himself that his apprentice was all right.

And that he was there, because working alone on a hostile planet without knowing anything of his Padawan’s wellbeing aside from being sure that he was in danger had been more of a trial than he was willing to admit, even to himself.

And then, on the third day, he knocked lightly on the door and received no reply.

“Obi-Wan?” he called.

He thought he heard an indistinct mumble. Qui-Gon chuckled, imagining the boy emerging from his blankets like an irritated loth-cat, rumpled and annoyed.

Then Obi-Wan screamed.

Qui-Gon’s mind conjured — for a split second — a new version of the image he had pictured in his mind for over a week — his Padawan, attacked in his sleep — drugged — dragged from his bed —

Then he blinked and the image vanished. Qui-Gon inhaled sharply and pressed on the entry pad, opening the door. He stepped inside the cramped cabin and was relieved to see the boy securely in his bed, the room completely absent of any impossible intruders. But Obi-Wan’s face was flushed with fever, and he was struggling beneath his blankets, thrashing as if he were actually being attacked.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said firmly, shaking his shoulder. “Obi-Wan, wake up.”

The Padawan didn’t seem to register Qui-Gon’s presence at all. He struggled with his bedsheets, small whimpers escaping his lips as he fought.

“Obi-Wan!” Qui-Gon said more sharply. “Wake up now!”

Obi-Wan rolled onto his side and dry heaved, his eyes flying open. His Master dropped to his knees beside the bed, running a hand soothingly up and down the boy’s arm. “It’s all right,” he said. “You were dreaming.”

“C-C—” Obi-Wan choked.

“Shh,” Qui-Gon said again.

“Cerasi—”

Qui-Gon’s heart plummeted. Obi-Wan was not coherent, that was obvious.

The boy had not mentioned that name in over two years.

“Padawan, you must focus,” he said softly. “This is not Melida/Daan. We are on a ship, heading home.”

“Cerasi is…”

…dead…

“…gonna… kill you.” Obi-Wan’s words, and the sheer venom in them, shocked the Jedi Master. Obi-Wan was still struggling, but more slowly now, almost as if he didn’t realize he was doing so. His eyes flickered feverishly to the middle distance, seeing things that weren’t there.

“Padawan…” Qui-Gon said slowly.

“Let them go!” Obi-Wan shrieked suddenly. One arm came loose from the blankets and missed striking his Master by inches. “Let them go, they’re too young! Let them go let them go let them go!”

“Obi-Wan!” Qui-Gon seized his Padawan by the shoulders.

Bloodshot blue eyes suddenly snapped directly onto Qui-Gon’s face, but instead of calming, Obi-Wan’s panic only increased. “Get off me!” He screamed, twisting, kicking, squirming away. “Don’t… don’t you touch me! Stop, stop, stop!” he was wailing now, utter despair twisting his face beyond recognition. “Please don’t!”

Qui-Gon released his Padawan as if burned. He pulled away sharply, horror rising in him, tasting bile.

I wasn’t — I wouldn’t —

It’s a fever dream —

A memory?

Qui-Gon tasted bile. “No,” he heard himself say aloud. “No.”

Obi-Wan had squirmed away, pressing himself flat against the wall the bed rested against, his body curling inwards — the last defense of the helpless, the frightened. The abused.

“I won’t,” he was saying frantically. “I won’t. Get out. Get out. They’re flying in the morning, they’re flying — Nield said — we tried to take the tank but — we lost too many — no. I tried! I did!”

Obi-Wan fell abruptly silent again, staring vaguely, his breaths coming in uneven little puffs. Sweat glistened on his brow, in his hair.

Qui-Gon wanted desperately to reach out and touch his shoulder, wipe his brow, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, terrified of causing another panicked outburst, of hearing —

I don’t know what happened on Melida/Daan.

“Trevor, Meola, Hanta, Chassi, come with me,” Obi-Wan said, still gazing vacantly. His voice, however, was firm. “We need to clear the streets. Gather up the bodies. Any pieces large enough to carry. Leave anything too small.”

I never asked him. I just assumed. He told me about the end of the war and Cerasi’s murder and I never thought to ask for more.

“Hanta?” Obi-Wan said. He coughed. Kept trying to talk even though he could barely breathe. “Hanta? Dammit… she’s gone. Infection. Infection. We’re out of medicine. We’re out. They can’t. I won’t go. They can’t they can’t. Get out.”

Obi-Wan dissolved into jumbled sentences, his eyes fluttering open and shut and open again, his cheeks blazing with fever.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon whispered.

“Cerasi?”

“Obi-Wan.”

“I can ask,” Obi-Wan said, and he sounded very small, so uncertain, nothing like the slowly-more-confident but quiet Padawan who had accompanied him last week. “I could. But he’s not. He’s not. He left, he doesn’t — he doesn’t want me.”

Another chill swept through Qui-Gon. He held his breath, waiting for more, not wanting to hear it but needing to know.

“He left me, I’m not meant — he said I wasn’t meant to be — I’m not good enough for it, Cerasi,” Obi-Wan murmured. His eyes fell closed again. He almost seemed to be sleeping. “He was right about… right about me. I’m not. Not. I can ask. He might not… come back. For you. For you he might. He’s good. Not me. Not me.”

Qui-Gon dropped his head onto the bedsheets, his breath sharp and painful in his chest.

I never asked.

“Nield. I will ask. I’ll ask the Jedi I will, I will. I’m not one of them. For you. I’ll ask for you.”

We never talked about it.

“The little ones, Cerasi. I can watch them. I’ll watch them today. My fingers. The man, he broke my fingers in the alleyway. I’ll watch the little ones, little ones. It’s story time, Jilo. Shhh.”

I let everything that happened afterwards consume it. Consume me.

“Qui-Gon doesn’t want me,” Obi-Wan said, so, so softly, his tone perfectly reasonable. Calm. “My fault. I’m not. It’s okay. I’ll talk to them. It’s okay. I want to… I want to go home. He doesn’t want me. He doesn’t,” Obi-Wan’s voice cracked. “I want to go home.”

My Padawan.

With utmost care, Qui-Gon rose to his feet, feeling the floor sway beneath him as if he were at sea and not flying through hyperspace.

He went to the fresher and poured a glass of water and dampened a rag, carrying them both back to the beside. He set the glass on a table, and seated himself cautiously on the side of the bed, radiating as much calm as he could, trying to make his presence known through their training bond.

It must have worked, because Obi-Wan did not panic or flinch away from the person sitting beside him. Or perhaps he was simply too tired, delirious to the point of vacancy.

Qui-Gon reached out with one hand and gently pressed the boy back against his pillows, resting the cool cloth against his forehead once he had settled. He kept his hand there for awhile, and gently stroked the sweat-soaked hair with his thumb, watching the boy’s eyelids flicker as he began to doze, to dream.

With his other hand, Qui-Gon gently took one of Obi-Wan’s, holding it gently as if it were fragile, a treasure beyond price.

“Oh, my boy,” he whispered, and was not shocked to taste salt on his lips as he spoke. “Sleep now. When you wake, we will talk, I swear it. We’ll talk about everything. Anything you want.”

Obi-Wan continued to dream.

As he fell deeper into sleep, his fingers curled gently around Qui-Gon’s, and he did not let go.

fin.

[hercleverboy]

Congrats!!! I love your writing!! I’d like to request a blurb with #36 from the general list and #41 from fluf 💕💕💕

thank you so much! enjoy! 

I don’t really like this piece too much, so please let me know what you think! 

wc ↠ 1.7k

General #36 ↠ “Do you trust me?” “No.”

Fluff #41 ↠ “You say you hate him but your red face is telling me otherwise.”

Spencer Reid had hated her from the moment he met her.

Y/N was absolutely sure of it. When they met for the first time when she joined the BAU, he seemed polite enough. Though he just never let her in the same way he let in the other team members. She understood at first, Spencer had known the rest of the team for years at that point. She even found herself incredibly attracted to the young genius, developing somewhat of a crush on him. His reputation certainly proceeded him, particularly when it came to his issues with germs, so she kept to herself. She understood it would take him time to get used to her, but where the rest of the team warmed to Y/N and accepted her as a part of their family; Spencer never did. 

During paperwork days when Y/N would get up to make coffee in the corner of the bullpen, Spencer would already be in the kitchenette, stirring his sugar in with intent. She’d always offer him a polite smile and some light conversation. However, it seemed that as soon as she started to speak, Spencer would pick up his coffee and head back to his desk. She let that go, thinking perhaps she was getting too much in his personal space, though it hung around in the back of her mind for weeks afterwards. 

 After cases when they’d get on the jet to go back home, she would take a seat opposite him, offer him a kind smile and then pull out a book to read, wholly intent on minding her own business. But Spencer, without even looking up at her, would simply get up and move to an empty seat at the other end of the jet.

Y/N exchanged a look with JJ, who had just shrugged in response. She couldn’t understand Spencer’s dislike for the woman who’d been nothing but kind, and who the team were all already incredibly fond of. She had good initiative, was brilliant in the field and had a capability to pick up on patterns earlier than the rest of them, sometimes even before the resident genius himself. The team suspected that Spencer’s supposed hatred for her was actually his poor attempt at disguising the fact that he was madly in love with her, but he never confirmed nor denied it. 

Then somehow, as if she didn’t already think Spencer hated her enough, it got worse. Any time she made contributions to their group conversations, Spencer would cut her off. It was belittling, honestly. It made her second guess her intelligence whenever she’d pose a theory. Every time, without fail, Spencer would pipe up and say, ‘You’re wrong. It’s actually more plausible that—‘ 

One day, they were sat around the roundtable, having finished debriefing after a long case. The team exchanged murmurs of plans to head down to the bar, with Garcia smiling enthusiastically and insisting that the first round was on her. Y/N had felt pretty awful for the majority of the case, and to top it off she was sure she was coming down with a cold too. 

“How about you, Y/L/N? You coming?” Morgan piped up, his usual smirk on his lips. 

She forced a smile, scoffing. “No, I think I’m just gonna head home, but thank you.” 

Morgan shook his head, determined. “Come on. Even Reid’s coming!” 

Y/N looked over at Spencer then, who busied himself with packing away items in his satchel, although she didn’t miss the scowl that seemed to plant itself on his face. She looked back to Morgan. “Sorry Morgan, I’m just not feeling it.” 

Morgan sighed, but still tried one last time, raising his eyebrows suggestively.  “You sure? It’ll be fun, maybe you and Reid will finally start getting along after a few drinks.” 

“Y/N bit her lip, shaking her head. “I’m sure there’s at least a hundred other people that Reid would rather spend the evening with.”

At that comment, Spencer threw his satchel strap over his shoulder and left the room in a hurry, a look on his face that seemingly resembled hurt. 

Y/N swatted Morgan’s shoulder playfully. “Look what you’ve done now! You know how much Reid hates me.” She whined. 

Morgan chuckled. “Please, Pretty Boy doesn’t hate you.” 

“Uh-huh, sure.” 

“It’s true! Don’t tell anyone I told you, but the team has an ongoing bet on when you two will finally admit your feelings for one another.” He leaned in closer to her. “And I’ve got $20 riding on it being in the summer, if you could help a guy out?” 

Y/N groaned at that. “Well be prepared to lose your money, it’s never going to happen. Spencer Reid hates me, and do you know what? I hate him too.” She said defiantly, although it was all too obvious that she was lying through her teeth. 

Morgan smiled, holding his hands up in surrender. “You say you hate him, but your red face is telling me otherwise.” 

Y/N just waved him off, ignoring how he chuckled at how flustered she’d gotten, and that was that. 

Reid’s quite frankly petty behaviour was really winding down on Y/N mentally, and although Hotch often told him off for his snarky comments or gave him the third degree for constantly trying to one-up her, Spencer persisted.

They’d been working on a new case for a week, and Garcia had just sent the team the location of where the unsub was holding his fourth victim hostage. Hopping out of the SUV’s, the team regrouped in front of the house as Hotch ran over the plan with them. 

“JJ, Morgan and Rossi, you’re with me. Y/L/N and Reid will take the back. We take the unsub in alive if possible, understand?” He instructed, everyone nodding as they reached for their guns. 

“Can’t you switch Morgan and Y/L/N over?” Spencer began to whine but was quickly shut down by Hotch shooting him a warning look. He scoffed, rolling his eyes in defeat. “Great.”

After entering through the back of the house, the two began checking each room they passed by. As they rounded a corner, stalking towards a closed door, Spencer moved so he was in front of Y/N, in what she noticed was an almost protective manner. He leaned closer to the door, listening intently for any sign that the unsub was inside. 

“Is he in there?” She whispered, and Spencer looked back at her, nodding. 

“I think so.” 

Y/N closed her eyes for a moment in thought, running over the important details of the profile in her head. “Do you trust me?” 

Spencer scoffed quietly. “No.”

“Well, you’re not going to have a choice.” She mumbled, and before Spencer realised what was happening, Y/N had burst open the door, her gun drawn. 

*

Y/N was stood in the local police station’s conference room, collecting together files and taking down crime scene photos from the evidence board. The case had ended well. Based off of the profile, Y/N had decided that the best course of action was to confront the unsub head on- and it worked, too. Hotch had already told her that she’d done well that day, and that made her heart swell with pride. But Spencer? He hadn’t said anything on the ride back to the police station, busying himself with other things as they prepared to head back home. 

Y/N sighed at the thought, looking up from the evidence board just as Spencer entered the room. He immediately turned around, heading back out the door when she called out for him. 

“Reid!” 

He stopped, turning back around. “What, Y/L/N?” 

“What is your problem with me?” She asked, exasperated. She was so tired of just accepting his mistreatment, and she refused to do it any longer. 

“I don’t have time for this.” He shook his head, turning to leave again. 

“Spencer Reid! You’ve made my life hell since I first joined the Bureau and god help me, you are going to tell me what your problem is!”

“My problem?” He countered, his jaw clenched. “My problem is you! Putting yourself in danger like that without a second thought for the consequences.” 

“The consequences? It turned out fine! My plan worked!” She bit back, voice rising. 

“It was stupid and reckless, you know better than that.” He spat, making Y/N scoff. 

“Why do you care?” She shouted frustratedly. “You can barely stand to be in the same room as me, and for the life of me Spencer I cannot figure out what it is that I did to make you hate me so much!”

Spencer’s defensive stance dropped, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find appropriate words. “Y/N, I know you think I do, but I don’t hate you.” 

She gave a humourless chuckle. “Yeah, well you could’ve fooled me.” She sighed, hands running over her face as she attempted to calm herself down. “I don’t understand why me putting myself in danger bothers you so much-”

“Maybe because I love you!”

The silence that fell between them only lasted a handful of seconds. Spencer, prompted by the look of shock on Y/N’s face, scrambled to explain himself. 

“I don’t hate you. I-I don’t really think I could if I tried.” He reiterated, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck, a nervous habit of his. “I’ve loved you since the day I first met you.”

She swallowed, her mouth suddenly so dry. “I don’t understand-“

“I’m so sorry, I know how poorly I’ve treated you. The only explanation I can offer is that I was so sure you wouldn’t feel the same that I thought it would be better to push you away than face rejection.” He whispered, moving closer to her, shame in his tone. 

“You love me?” She murmured in disbelief. The words barely left her lips, so faint and shaky that Spencer nearly hadn’t heard her. 

He laughed quietly, as though he was laughing at the absurdity of the situation. “Yes, yes I do. I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.” 

He’d moved to stand before her, the two of them looking at one another in absolute awe that they both felt the same way. Spencer’s eyes trailed down to her lips, moving back up to meet her eyes. 

Y/N didn’t know how to respond, looking up at him incredulously. “Spencer..”

He bit down his lip, the words leaving his lips in a whisper. “Would it- would it be alright if I kissed you?” 

She was nodding before she’d even processed his words, and when his lips met hers- it was euphoric. Like they were simply meant to be. 

Perhaps Spencer Reid wasn’t that bad after all.

[tisthedamnseasson]

Eddie falling asleep with his head in Buck's lap or on his thigh as maybe Buck's looking down at him-? I don't know take it from pls. there

A/N: I know you completely forgotten about this prompt but I'm still sorry it's taken me so long lol.

That being said, thank you so much for the prompt anyways :)

ao3 version here

----

"Are you okay?" Buck asked as Eddie wiggled ever so slightly in his seat for what felt like the millionth time. 

"I'm fine." Eddie answered also for the millionth time. 

The blond rolled his eyes. This was getting out of hand. 

"Eddie." He gave his best friend, who was stubbornly staring ahead and pretending to watch the cartoon that Christopher had enthusiastically picked, a pointed look before sofly kicking his ankle. 

The other man jerked and swivelled his head to meet Buck's gaze. "Hey, what was that for?"

"Eds, you're hurting." 

Eddie huffed a quick, "I'm fine." 

Before he could protest Christopher chimed in from his current spot on the floor against the couch that he moved to earlier after being tired of bumping into his dad whenever they moved at the same time. "Daaaaad." He started to say before letting out an exasperated sigh that made him seem like an actual teenager and not just a pre-teen. "You're hurt."

Eddie opened his mouth to protest but then closed it before letting out a sigh of defeat. "My shoulder is just aching a little from sitting on the couch for too long. It's not that big of a deal."

Both Buck and Chris shared a long-suffering look, used to the older Diaz's stubbornness but still a little exasperated from having to deal with it more frequently the past few weeks. Although, they'd didn't complained because as long as Eddie was still alive that was all that mattered. 

"Eds," Buck began to tell him in a soft voice, "do you need to lay down?"

It was Eddie's turn to roll his eyes. "I'm fine." He repeated with emphasis. "I've been in that damn bed enough these past few weeks to last a lifetime."

"Eddie." Buck told him sternly, knowing that if Eddie was showing discomfort and talking about his shoulder bothering him then it must've really been hurting him and he didn't want his best friend to exasperate the wound and hurt even more.

"Buck." Eddie mocked.

"Donkey!" Christopher exclaimed, breaking the tension. 

The two men blinked at each other, looked at the ten year old who started to giggle, then looked back at each other before starting to laugh as well. 

After a few moments of laughter, Buck let out a soft sigh. "Eddie, I'm serious. If you need to, I can help you to bed."

His best friend gave him a fond smile which wasn't until recently that Buck had realized the full effect it had on him. "I know. And thank you for caring, like you always do. But it's almost Chris' bedtime anyways and I want to spend as much time with you guys out here as possible."

Buck sighed, always ending up giving in to Eddie. It had taken his best friend getting shot for him to realize exactly why he had that effect on Buck. "I know you do." He said ever so softly. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be so overbearing. It's just..." He paused. 

"We worry about you." Christopher finished for him, patting his father's leg as he gave him a serious look. 

Eddie smiled down at his son. "I don't want you to worry, Mijo. That's my job."

"But dad, we do worry. It's what family does."

Eddie's smile brightened. "Well when you put it that way..." He then began to tickle his son, who's giggles echoed happily throughout the living room. 

However, the older Diaz could only tickle for a second or so before wincing in pain, although he did a pretty good job of hiding it. But Buck could tell how much his best friend was hurting. He always could. 

"Okay, that's it." Buck announced, moving closer to the end of the couch until his left side hit the arm. He then patted his thigh. "Come on."

Eddie's eyes widened ever so slightly, making Buck realize the innuendos that motion caused. 

He then cleared his throat. "Lay your head on my lap." 

Yeah that didn't sound quite better either. 

Buck then quickly added. "So you can finish the movie with me and Chris and be at least somewhat more comfortable."

Eddie gave him that small yet fond smile once more, eyes slightly widened as he looked at him in what seemed to be in awe. 

The blond shifted in his seat. "What?"

His best friend cleared his throat. "Nothing." His eyes then fell toward Buck's lap before travelling back to meet his gaze. "Are you sure?"

Buck rolled his eyes before patting his thigh again. "Of course. Come on, we're missing all the good parts."

Eddie's smile widened as he proceeded to lay down on the couch, his back against the cushions as his head tilted slightly to see the movie. 

Trying to help him be as comfortable as possible, Buck went to delicately rest his arm around Eddie's side so his bad shoulder could have more support. 

They surprisingly got settled in comfortable positions rather quickly as Christopher gave them a bright smile before turning his attention back on the tv and proceeding to rewind the little bit that they missed.

They watched the cartoon in a peaceful silence besides the laughter coming from all three of them at different points. It didn't take long for Buck to subconsciously begin to to rub small, soothing circles on Eddie's arm with one hand and softly run his fingers through Eddie's hair in the other. 

His best friend hitched a breath at first at the touch, which made Buck about to stop his small movements. But before he could, Eddie sunk further in the blond's hold, and let out a moan of contentment. 

"Hmmm. That's nice." He muttered, shifting his head ever so slightly so he could softly rub his nose against Buck's thigh, like a cat who was enjoying a head rub. 

And wow, okay. This was new. 

Though Buck could add it up to the list of small yet new and slightly alarming - but in a good way - things that Eddie had done since coming home from the hospital.

For a man who had gotten shot in broad daylight and almost… died, Eddie had surprisingly been... lighter in a way.

Even while he was struggling with dealing with having to only use one arm and needing other's help since Eddie always had a hard time asking for help. But at least with Buck he had been more open about it, more willing to tell the blond what he needed. Even though there were still plenty of times where Buck had to guess and not be told Eddie's needs, like just a few minutes prior. 

But, whenever Eddie would ask Buck for help and the blond immediately said "Of course" or when Buck gave him exactly what he needed at the moment without being asked, no matter what Eddie would always give him that fond smile. 

Buck had noticed it before that fateful day, but there was something about those fond looks that sorta...grew afterwards. A certain openness that always took his breath away. 

And then of course there were those lingering touches that Eddie had given him countless of times as well. 

Sure, Buck had been helping him with his PT exercises so of course they'd be touching a lot. But it wasn't just then. Like whenever Buck would hand Eddie something and their fingers would graze each other. Or whenever Eddie needed to walk pass Buck and his hand would press on his back for a moment. It was used to be where the touch would only last a milisecond but now it'd just linger there for a few secondw too long. In fact, whenever they'd accidentally touch - and that had been happening a lot in these past few weeks - Eddie would always just… linger there. And whenever he'd finally move away, he didn't look bashful or embarrassed or anything like that. No. He'd just give Buck this lingering, secretive smile that always made his stomach flutter, before going back to what he was doing and acting like he didn't just almost give Buck a heart attack with all of the palpitations that he caused. 

However, Buck would just try to tell himself that he was just overreacting and that it was just because his feelings for his best friend had been present more than ever and hard to keep in since the incident. That Eddie had always acted like that because they were best friends and close and that was what they did. Nothing changed except Buck temporarily moving in to help out which made everything seem more intimate than it really was. 

That was it. Nothing less. Nothing more. 

Well...besides the fact that Eddie had apparently put Buck in his will as Christopher's guardian if something were to happen to him. A fact that Eddie had kept to himself for a year. Something that Buck may or may not still be reeling from during these past few weeks. Especially as he and the Diaz boys had fallen into this somewhat domestic bubble that Buck kept trying to convince himself that it was just temporary as Eddie recovered. 

And it worked. For the most part. 

However, it had been more and more difficult for Buck to convince himself of it when it came to moments like his current one. 

With the way Eddie didn't second guess to lay on Buck's lap after getting the okay and proceeding to sink further into the touch. Eddie's little moans and noises of contentment as Buck continued his gentle movements. 

And...did Eddie's lips just gently graze the skin on Buck's thigh where his shorts rode up?

That...that had to be a mistake right? 

Because, sure, there had been moments here and there where it really felt like they were gonna kiss before one or both of them pulled away. But, again, this was all mostly likely in Buck's head. 

Right?

Daring to look down at Eddie, he noticed how his eyes were now closed as his breathing had gotten more even. It seemed like Eddie had fallen asleep, looking more peaceful than Buck had seen him in a long time. 

His heart was beating loudly in his chest, as his stomach tightened while every fiber in his being lightened up like they were on fire. Buck hitched a breath. He couldn't take it. His love for his best friend encompassed him. 

Every night he had nightmares of that day. Of the absolutely devastating fear of losing Eddie. Buck had never been more terrified in his life. But it were moments like this current one where Buck thanked the universe with everything he had that Eddie was here. That he was alive and breathing. That even after getting shot and dealing with the traumatizing struggle of his recovery, Eddie still seemed lighter. More open and sure of himself in a certain vulnerability that Buck had never seen on him before. Like a certain puzzle piece had clicked. And even when there were days where Eddie had been frustrated and angry and just flat out stubborn with his recovery, that lightness had still somehow been there, keeping him grounded. 

Eddie was alive. Eddie was getting better. And as he did, Buck was going to continue to be with him as much as possible. 

And even though his recovery was going to take a long time between the physical therapy and his therapy for his PTSD, and it was still gonna be a long and hard road, there were still moments where Eddie was happy. Happier than Buck had seen him in a long time even. 

Moments like these where it was just Eddie, Buck, and Christopher, being together. 

And Buck? Buck could live in these moments forever. As long as he had Eddie and Christopher then he'd be okay. 

At that thought he looked away from the sleeping man in his lap to check on Chris. The kid was now laying on the soft carpet, head on one of the couch pillows, now fast asleep just like his dad. 

His two Diaz boys. Who had both gone through so much more than anyone should in a lifetime and now were both sleeping happily, with small smiles both on their faces. 

Buck's heart clenched in his chest.

Now this? This was what pure happiness felt like. 

He then looked back down at the soft expression on Eddie's face as his best friend slept soundly. 

Buck couldn't take it anymore. 

Sure this was a very bad idea, but his heart felt like it was going to rip out of his chest. His love for the best friend he'll ever have was just too much. 

And so, in a moment of weakness, Buck leaned his head down and kissed Eddie's forehead, lingering there for a few seconds or so before whispering in a hushed tone, "I love you."

Eddie's head shifted ever so slightly which made Buck immediately rip his hand away. 

His best friend's eyes slowly fluttered open before meeting his gaze. 

And there it was. That fond look yet again. But this time it was brighter than Buck had ever seen it before.

Eddie smiled up at him, "I love you too."

And just like that Buck finally knew what that missing puzzle piece Eddie had seemed to find. Because he was now feeling it too as everything fell into place.

Not being able to contain himself anymore, Buck leaned down and placed a small yet emotional-filled kiss on Eddie's lips. His best friend returned the kiss with as much vigor. 

After Buck lifted his head up ever so slightly, he placed his forehead against Eddie's as they smiled softly at each other. 

Yeah, he could get used to this.

[collecting-stories]

2am - Daryl Dixon

Request: Hi! I was wondering if you could write something similar for Daryl as your one shot "small talk" maybe set in another night of that time where they were on watch, the reader telling daryl about something (some random fact about anything she learned before, i was thinking about sleeping cycles but it's totally fine if you use any other idea) until they finish their shift and go to sleep (1/2)

(2/2) if it helps you can use one or some of your prompt lists: “I saved a piece for you.”“It’s 2am, I think that’s enough of that.”“Tell me again.” “You’re so cute when you’re tired.”“Your hair is so soft.”

A/N: I hope this was what you had in mind? Really just some drabble/fluff.

The Walking Dead Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

The screen door creaked shut as you slipped out onto the porch of the house that you were squatting in. The group looked a little different these days but everything else felt the same. That lingering sensation, that loss was just around the corner. Waiting to catch up if you let yourself be too happy too often. It shouldn’t have even been a possibility, the uncertainty of the future looming just ahead, but as you stepped outside you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.  

“Want some company?” You called, keeping your voice low. The woods around you were virtually silent but you were cautious anyway, just in case an unexpected walker was lurking behind the trees.  

“Ya should be sleeping,” Daryl replied, turning his head just enough to look over his shoulder. “We can’t keep lingering here and I ain’t listening to ya bitch about walking through the woods cause yer tired.”  

“I do not bitch.” You sat down beside him on the steps of the porch, pulling a saran-wrapped piece of cornbread out of your cardigan pocket for him, “you should be showering me with compliments Daryl, I saved a piece for you.”  

He looked at the piece of cornbread for a moment, as if he was confused about where it had come from, as if he hadn’t been sitting in the kitchen with you while you made dinner from scraps that had been gathered and hunted. After a beat, he took the cornbread from you, unwrapping the corner so he could take a bite and wiping crumbs away when they clung to his chin afterward.  

You took a seat, turning in close so that you could watch him and looking more like a couple enjoying the night air than two people on watch for walkers. “I used to get cornbread from Whole Foods all the time; it was addictive. This is the first time I’ve made it myself...”

“Ain’t hard ta make.”  

“Have you made cornbread before?” You asked, pulling a second piece out and unwrapping it.  

“Ya sound surprised.”  

“You aren’t exactly Gordon Ramsey, I mean...the most I’ve seen you cook is meat and that’s usually just to char it over an open fire. No offense.” You tried to imagine another world, one where Daryl could cook more than a rotating animal carcass over a fire pit, but it wasn’t easy. He had never struck you as the “baking in the kitchen” type though you were sure he scrounged up his own food the same way back then as he did now.  

“Dunno who that is but cornbread’s pretty basic.” He shrugged, attempting to play off the admittance that he had cooked before as nothing special. He certainly wasn’t going to go around announcing the skill to everyone there.  

“I can’t believe you can cook.” You still sounded in awe of the idea, “will you cook me something sometime?”

“Not a lot ta cook around here.” He replied, “this ain’t bad.”  

You glanced at the cornbread in his hand, a beaming smile crossing your face at the simple compliment. Pulling any conversation out of Daryl was tricky but a compliment felt next level, especially these days. He’d felt more reserved than before, maybe not around everyone else but around you.  

“Why thank you, what a compliment.” You teased. “So, will you cook me something?”

“Cooked ya squirrel that time at Hershel’s,” he mentioned, scanning the perimeter.  

“Again, roasting a squirrel over an open flame isn’t exactly cooking Daryl. I mean like with spices and shit,” you replied. “Like a proper meal.”

“Might be a can a dog food left over, could pour some dill in it for ya.” He scoffed when you smacked his arm, “go nice with the cornbread.”  

“If I didn’t love you so much, I’d hate you,” You muttered, scooting closer to him.  

Daryl turned his head just enough to look at you, a scrutinizing expression as if he had never heard the words before. In the early hours of the morning, when he was just starting to wake up or right before a run that threatened to be the last time the two of you saw each other you might say it, just above a whisper, but never so casually, never while you were out on watch, talking about cornbread.  

“Tell me again,” he asked, voice quiet in the dark. He looked away quickly, biting at the tip of his thumb out of nervousness.  

You smiled, hand slipping around his arm as you leaned in close to him, “I love you.” You said, brushing some strands of hair behind his ear so you could kiss his cheek. “Your hair is so soft.”  

“A’ight, I think ya need sleep, yer losing yer mind.” He replied.  

“I’m not,” you insisted, “just making a point. Besides, I came out here to finish up watch with you, I’m not gonna bail.”

“I can finish watch, ain’t nothing going on.”  

“Yeah, but when I wake up again in the morning there will be something going on and,” you shrugged, silently conveying that once things got going in the morning there wouldn’t be a quiet moment for the two of you for hours. There were things to do, responsibilities of being part of a group out in the open but you couldn’t help feeling a little selfish. Longing for the days in the prison when you could sneak off to a quiet corner for a few minutes with him.  

He nodded his head but didn’t say anything. Daryl was never very forthcoming with how he was feeling and you hadn’t expected any sort of explanation in return.  

“I read this article once about this woman who slept in cycles instead of sleeping straight through the night.” You mentioned, laying back on the porch and looking up at the sky. There were more stars than you had been used to years ago but you weren’t sure if it was the dwindling population or just the fact that you were in the country. You hated thinking of the former, it felt a little too much like eugenics. There was still a lot out there, more ground that you hadn’t covered, new woods that you hadn’t surveyed, and keeping watch just felt like something that was supposed to happen. “I don’t remember it totally but I think she did like 4 hours of sleep and then 8 hours awake. Wouldn’t that be nice...four hours of undisturbed sleep.”  

“Ya slept through last night.” Daryl replied, “think ya got plenty a shut eye.”

You turned your head to the side, looking over at him. “How would you know? You were on watch for most of the night.”  

“Don’t like being locked in with everyone else.”  

“Should I be offended by that?” You asked, “or am I the exception?”

“It’s 2am at least, ya oughta sleep. Certainly had enough a this nonsense.” He replied, though when he looked down at you there was a hint a grin on his face. Too dark for you to actually see him but it was there.  

You sat up again, moving into your previous position so that you could lean against him, enjoying some physical contact before anyone was awake to see it. “I’ll go in soon,” you promised, knowing that he was right, you were feeling tired, “just wanna spend some more time with you.”

-

taglist: @gigilame @sabertooth-potato @enrapturedbythemoon @thanossexual @yespleasejayhalstead @cbarter @onemorebeautifulnightmare @mainokutan @solllaris @twdeadfanfic @legit-emily 

[imaginethathaikyuu]

kinktober - day sixteen

osamu miya - hungry 

kinktober faq  kinktober prompt list

NSFW warning featuring: service top osamu, oral sex (reader receiving), fingerng, motivated by jealousy, he wants u bad, no aftercare other tags: osamu is very jealous, reader is a Player, their relationship is confusing and is never openly explained lol, months of osamu pining over u, mentions of reader using other men to make osamu jealous, potential ooc osamu but i dont care  fem reader

word count: 3377

p.s thank u @closetedweeb01 for beta reading the beginning and helping me get this story in the right direction it was so helpful<3! and thank u @natsuonii for helping me basically the entire time i was writing this fic up until like ten minutes ago LMAO ily thank u sm sophie muah thank u <33 and also to everyone else who reached out to help or gave advice :) much appreciate

-

“Look up.” 

Osamu did, and you grinned, laughed in disbelief as you stood over him. 

“What?” he asked, squinting eyes dark with intent to stay looking at yours until you asked otherwise. 

“You listened.” 

“I already told you,” he started, and even as your hand moved to hold his face, even as you squatted down to straddle his lap, he didn’t break that eye contact and his baritone voice didn’t falter, “I would do anything you told me to do.” 

“Anything?” 

Osamu knew that you were testing him, but this was a game he was always ready to play. “Anything.” 

“Why’s that?” you asked, only teasing - you already knew his answer. “You got so jealous at the bar earlier, watching me dancing with Hinata. You know… you don’t own me, Osamu.” 

His only response, “I’m better than him,” and all you could do was laugh. 

The look in his eyes was all too familiar - seeing it was almost comforting. That hunger he only had for you was burning hotter than ever, now mixed with competitive passion and a need to win. 

“Shoyo’s pretty fit,” you hummed, a playfulness laced through your voice in a way that Osamu didn’t like. “I think he’d be a good time… I’m still waiting for him to text back.” 

With his hands on your hips Osaumu pulled you closer, slotting right between your legs, the center of you perfectly aligned with the peak in his jeans. 

“I’m better,” he repeated, and still, his voice was strong. As if you couldn’t break him no matter how hard you tried. 

But this teasing would only be fun for so long, and although Osamu could take it for as long as you’d give it, you were growing tired. You hadn’t given him so much as a crumb and still he was waiting for you to hand him a full meal - somehow his interest in you had only grown despite your snide teasing and better-than attitude. 

You were sure he would have lost interest by now, and yet he still acts as if the two of you hadn’t been in this exact position dozens of times before. Your plans to make him jealous never fall through even though everything he’s jealous of isn’t his, but he never fails to remind you that he’s the one you run back to. 

And he does do everything you say. He listens and complies and obeys and yet he’s never seemed as submissive as moments ago when two words had him looking up at you like a begging dog. 

You thrived on it. 

“Kiss me.” 

At any moment he could turn this around on you. He could leave you wanting, needing, begging; he could deny what you were asking of him and make you feel how he’s felt. And yet, he doesn’t. You told him to kiss you and so he kissed you, and he wouldn’t stop until you pulled away and gave him more instruction. 

It wasn’t like him to be so behaved, to exist by someone else’s word, but, really, he was only doing what he wanted to do; the gratification he felt from doing as you told him was unmatched, and the look of pride in your eyes despite any taunting words you’d say was addictive. 

And he’d take any chance he would get to show you how much he thrived on it. 

He was being eager and you liked it. His hips were rocking up against you in minutes; both of his hands were holding your face and keeping you in place so he could kiss you as long as he wanted. 

Maybe you were letting him get away with too much, and maybe this was going to go much faster than you ever intended, but he was finally showing you just how deeply hungry for you he was - and maybe you couldn’t get enough of it. 

You matched his rocking with a thrust of your own and you felt him shiver, and you pulled out of the kiss to take this chance to tease. 

“Too much?” 

“Not enough,” he groaned, chasing your lips for more. You only gave him a short taste before pushing him back again, and he hit the back of the couch with a thud. 

“God, you’re so fucking desperate,” you taunted. “Already this hard from one kiss?” 

“All for you,” he admitted, throwing his head back as he wondered why the hell he let himself do this with you. How many times had he watched you dancing and flirting with another man all while your eyes were on him? How many nights had you left him with nothing to do but fuck his fist while trying to remember the way your lips tasted? How much longer before he’d finally have enough? 

What was it about you that he was so addicted to, anyway? What did you give him that everybody else lacked? Maybe it was just the chase of it all - maybe when he finally got a piece of you he’d be able to get past the wave of emotions you send over him any time you were around. 

But he knew he’d never get enough. Even if all of you was only his, he wouldn’t be satisfied. 

“What do you want, Osamu?” 

“Whatever you’ll give me,” he answered without looking up. 

You eyed the expanse of his neck before latching your lips onto his skin, pulling a reaction out of him that had you shivering this time. 

“That’s not a good enough answer,” you hummed. “Tell me what you want.” 

Like he’d come to the end of his rope and had no other option but to blurt out the truth, he said, “I want to fuck you,” and he had to swallow another moan before he could think of continuing. “Wanna stuff you with my cock and fuck my cum into you and show you how much fucking better I am than anyone else who’s ever tried to make you feel as good as I can - fuck, stop moving your hips like that, baby.” 

While he was mumbling descriptions of daydreams, sounding like he was making a wish to some god or star above, you were left wondering how far you would take this. You always knew you’d eventually come to this point, and yet the answer isn’t as clear as you once thought it would be. 

What happens when you give Osamu what he wants? Your fun with him would end, this cat and mouse game would be over. He’d get a taste of what he’s needed and maybe he would realize you weren’t all that. And he’d be off chasing someone else while you were left looking behind, waiting to see his needy eyes on you. 

Still - perfect moments like these don’t come often. And you were done toying with him, weren’t you? 

“You think you can make me feel good, ‘Samu?” 

“I know I could.” 

“Better than Shoyo could?” 

Every time you think you’re pushing just the right buttons, Osamu’s patience shows out. He should have thrown you onto the couch and had his way with you by now - you’d have no complaints if that’s how it panned out - but he held back. Even though his eyes said everything he was thinking, he stopped himself. He waited for your exact word before making any decision. 

He was avoiding your eyes and you didn’t like it. “Look at me, Osamu.” He did.

“You’re gonna stop saying anyone else’s name, sweetheart - it’s not as cute as you think it is.” 

Your next two words, “Make me,” were punctuated with a dramatic shift in your position - he pushed your body onto the couch and came towering over you, just like you’d been expecting him to do. 

“That’s all I needed to hear - I will.” 

You watched in awe as the man finally seemed to crack; he pulled his shirt off and the mask he seemed to be wearing all this time came off with it. His pristine control was thrown across the room, and all that was left was a hungry man tearing your clothes off like he was preparing his last meal. 

“Are you finally gonna have your way with me?” 

He grinned and said, “No,” and for a second you naively thought he was giving you a taste of your own medicine. He’d never dream of doing that, though. “I’m gonna take you how you deserve, baby - gonna show you how to feel good.” He kissed you without permission this time, too sweet to be so short, and followed it with the biting whisper, “I’m yours to use - tell me what to do and I’ll do it. Use me.” 

You’ve always had this much control over him, but it was never this apparent. And you had never used it for much benefit, because you really never knew how tight of a hold you had on him. You could tighten his collar until he couldn’t breathe and he’d let you; he would take any pain you inflicted as long as you kissed him better afterwards. 

And he was begging you to tell him what to do, waiting patiently and staying eager, and only now were you realizing how badly you needed to be served by no one but him. 

Maybe that realization is what had your act of confidence dissolving; maybe that’s why you could hardly wrap your tongue around your next words, “Your mouth, Osamu,” because just the thought of getting what you wanted had your stomach fluttering and your underwear soaked. You’d spent so long pushing him to the edge that you ended up right there with him, teasing yourself more than you ever teased him. 

He asked, “Where?” with a daring flirting edge posed to be a genuine question, like he was trying to see how commanding you would be. 

You pushed his shoulders down and said, “You know where,” and as he finally moved lower down your body, you stripped yourself of the clothes he’d left behind. 

He watched in desired awe as your pretty bra fell to the floor; seeing you bare underneath him for the first time felt like a bigger test of temptation than any time you had ever teased him on purpose. 

But he knew where you wanted him, even if you wouldn’t say it, even if it’s not where he wanted to be yet, even if he couldn’t take his eyes off of your neck or chest or stomach - there was no need for him to do anything you didn’t ask for. 

You’d already kicked your pants off and all Osamu had to do was take off your underwear, which he noted weren’t a match to your bra, and he’d add that to his list of endearing things about you. It was something so normal that nobody else would notice while he’d remember forever, something he’d tease you for later, something he’d stroke himself to the thought of. 

It’d go to the back of his mind for now, though, as he pulled your underwear down your shaking legs while you watched him. 

And he was convinced he was going to wake up any second now, so he rushed to make himself comfortable between your legs before his alarm clock woke him up - because there was no way this could actually, finally be happening. “God, you’re a dream.” 

“Hurry.” 

He could’ve listened, but he had to treat you right - this was only worth doing if he took his time. 

“Just relax,” he told you as he left kisses along your hip, “can’t rush these things.” 

“I would have came three times by now, if Sho - shit!” 

You were cut off with a rough spank to your thigh as well as Osamu’s tongue just barely tracing your clit, and it was enough to have your words stick to your throat. 

“What was that?” His voice sounded as dark as the look in his eyes, and it showed you that you’d finally found a button you shouldn’t press.  

“Go on - finish that sentence. I dare you to.” And he smacked your thigh again, just to prove his point. “You think anybody else would take their time with you? Would anyone else give this pretty pussy the attention it deserves, baby? Or do you know I’m the only one?” 

You had to swallow any excess pride just so you could voice a shaky reply, “I don’t know - show me.” 

Instead of voicing a response, he knew the only thing he had to do was what you asked. But he was sure if you pulled another stunt like that he’d end up leaving bruises with how brutally he’d show his ownership of you - that was one thing he wouldn’t let you get away with. 

But in that moment all he had to do was hook his arms around your thighs, hold you against his face, and devour you like he’d been dying to do for months now. So that’s what he did, and he watched as you threw your head back, listened as you moaned out for him, held you down as you rocked your hips against his face - and that was it. He felt like he’d just gotten a ticket into heaven. 

“That’s it,” he hummed, and you hardly noticed he’d pulled his mouth off of you because he didn’t break for long. He left with his teeth barely grazing your clit before he let himself speak again, and you had to reach down and grab his hand just to keep yourself grounded. “Just come undone for me, baby.” 

He groaned loud into you when you got a hold of his hair, and you felt those vibrations from his throat to your toes. 

And he needed you; he had his name on your lips and your legs around his head and his tongue inside you and still, still it wasn’t enough. He wanted more even though he had it all, and he wanted to push you further even though you were right where he needed you to be. 

But you kept pulling his hair and squeezing his hand and moaning his name - you were begging for him in every way you could and Osamu could hardly keep going without completely devouring you. 

You seemed to be getting close and he was filled to the brim with pride, but he had to stop to see just how much control you had slipped into his grasp. 

“Look down.” 

You did; for the first time, to Osamu’s recollection, you listened to him. 

You opened your eyes and saw him looking up at you, with the same look in his eyes as when you gave him that instruction, messy hair and flushed cheeks making him look as fucked out as you felt. 

Finally, suddenly, eagerly, he gave you more than just his mouth, his fingers exploring until he sunk two of them into you, and your head fell back. 

“Look at me,” he demanded, the sharpness of his voice matching the bite he left inside your thigh. “Don’t look away, or you’ll finish yourself off. And you’ll be moaning my name when you do, I’m sure.”

“Osamu, please.” 

“Just like that,” and he was laughing at you, grinning and happy to be the one teasing. “What is it, sweetheart? You wanna cum for me?” 

You pulled his hair and forced his mouth onto you, “Please, ‘Samu,” and he let you take the reins again because, despite how much he loved toying with you, all he really wanted to do was give you what you wanted.  “Fuck, just let me cum.” 

The curl of his fingers pumping into you and the warmth of his tongue lapping your clit and the obscene moans coming from his throat, with the look in his eyes and how tightly he was holding your hand and the way he was listening to your every command - it was all too much. It was all the realization of what you’d been missing, teasing, and leaving; it was something you didn’t know if you’d have again but you sure as hell couldn’t go without. 

He could see the way your body reacted to every single touch, and maybe that’s why he was giving it to you exactly how you liked. And he wanted to cause a scene; you were moaning loud enough for the neighbors to hear and still not loud enough for Osamu - he was pleasuring you like he had an audience watching him and he’d be damned if he disappointed. 

He was made for this, you were sure - he was right where he belonged and both of you were loving it. 

“Come on, baby,” he taunted, “wanna see you cum for me, sweetheart, wanna feel this tight cunt cumming around my fingers - I know you’re holding back, just let it go.” 

He tried pulling his hand from yours but you only tightened your hold and pulled his mouth back down to your clit rather than giving him his free hand or a moment to breathe. So he squeezed your hand, endeared at the feeling of you holding on to him. 

Osamu felt it as you started to do as he told you and let go - he watched as your world started to amplify as you chased for more of him, begged to reach that peak, focused on getting there. Your eyes squeezed shut and Osamu just didn’t have it in him to punish you for it, especially when you looked so pretty being absolutely unraveled. 

Teasing words were caught in the back of his throat but he couldn’t stop tasting you long enough to say them. Your thighs were shaking and your moans were screams and he could hardly keep pumping his fingers with how tight your walls were pulsing around them and that was it - Osamu was close to cumming himself just at the sight of you cumming for him, and the ache in his pants was more apparent now than ever before. 

But he couldn’t care about his own pleasure, not while he was so absolutely focused on you and yours. You were the only thing on his mind and he could only hope you were thinking about solely him. 

“So fucking hot,” he said, not even thinking anymore as he kept you cumming with his fingers. “My good fucking girl - that was all for me, wasn’t it? Look at you, making a fucking mess, all for me. All mine, aren’t you?” 

He couldn’t stop, he wanted to draw this out and take you there again, he wanted to push you farther. He didn’t want you to catch your breath or take a break, he only wanted you to keep moaning, begging, cumming for him. 

But, as he was ready to add a third finger inside of you, “Too much, ‘Samu.” 

“Not enough,” he reminded you. “You’ve got one more for me, sweetheart, try for me.” 

But you pulled on his hand you’d been holding, trying to pull him up to you, and he had to give in. After pulling his fingers out of you, careful and slow and too attentive to the way your body seemed to resist, he let you tug him up. 

You clinged to him, your legs coming to wrap around his waist and your hand holding his jaw to bring him down for a kiss. 

“You’re a mess,” you said with a laugh upon noticing his glossy lips and soaked chin, all caused by you. 

“It’s your fault,” he said. “I’ll go clean up - you need anything?” 

You shook your head, “Stay,” and hooked your legs together across his back, as if to lock him into place. 

“Look who the clingy one is now,” he remarked, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love it. 

He didn’t know what all of it meant. He didn’t know how you had gone from dancing with another man mere hours ago to clinging onto Osamu like he was the only thing keeping you sane, but it didn’t matter. He had you and you were his, at least for the night, and he’d gotten a more than good enough taste of you. That was all he needed to know it’d never get better than you - and he’d keep waiting for more. 

[hournites]

I have a potential prompt for a one shot if you are interested.

Would you write a fic where Rick (and the rest of the JSA) are worried about Beth but she finally shows up safely? Everyone is so relieved, especially Rick... so much so that he goes to hug her but he forgets that his hourglass hasn't completely run out yet and squeezes her too tight. Beth is all like "Uhh, Rick? I can't breathe!" So he quickly (and awkwardly) lets her go.

I think it could be slightly angsty but also cute.

The Disappearing Act

They meet back up behind the garage as planned. Yolanda slinks in from above a roof with Courtney blazing in on the seat of her staff behind her, not nearly as concerned for stealth.

Rick shakes his head at the two. “Where’s Jennie and Beth?”

“I’m here!” They all raise their heads up at the sound of her voice floating in the air.

"Wait." She quickly powers down, setting down her lantern as she shakes out her hand. “Where’s Beth?”

“What do you mean?” Rick questions. “She’s supposed to be with you.”

Jennie glances up from her ring with a sharp breath and glowing eyes. “No, she left me to find Courtney after you called.”

Courtney swerves around. “Me? I didn’t call her!”

Yolanda raises an eyebrow. “What call? I was with Court the whole time, she didn't call.”

“I don’t know, she got it through her goggles, so she left.” Jennie took a step back. “I would’ve gone with her, but we were meeting up here now anyway. I thought she’d be here.”

“So Beth’s gone?” Courtney cries. The cosmic staff flares up as she gets more agitated. “How could you lose Dr. Mid-Nite?”

“I didn’t lose her, Courtney, I trust Beth to make her own decisions. This isn’t my fault!”

“Alright!” Rick snaps, stepping between the two of them before things get out of hand. “It’s only been five minutes. How about we try actually calling her?”

Yolanda’s already on it, pressing a hand to the side of her helmet to get a signal through the coms as she stalks. “Dr. Mid-Nite, It’s Wildcat--Do you copy? Or hear me? Anything? Mid-Nite? Beth? Hellooo?”

Rick pulls down his hood and rakes his hand through his hair. “Where were you when this happened, Jennie?”

Jade light leaves Jennie’s eyes as she backs against a wall, holding herself stiffly. “I-I don’t remember."

"Well." Rick gives her five seconds. "Think harder."

"Okay! Okay! Um...I think we were near the office building for The American Dream.”

“Was anyone suspicious with you? Or around you?”

“What kind of question is that? Why would Jennie be with anyone suspicious?”

Courtney rolls her eyes. “I meant did she notice anything?”

“Beth this is Yolanda, this isn’t funny anymore. I’m serious, please say something....”

“No! I don’t think so!”

Rick spins on his heel.

“Where are you going?” Courtney yells after him. “We can’t split up now! What if there’s actually a villain out there?”

“That’s exactly why we need to find her instead of wasting more time.” Rick flips his hourglass. “You get Pat. I’m going to the American Dream with Jennie.”

“I’ll stay here,” Yolanda tells them. She whacks the side of her helmet again. "Dr. Mid-Nite, do you read me?"

Courtney points out her helmet isn’t broken. It’s just Beth not answering, which doesn't get well received by any of them.

"Geez!" Courtney hugs the staff to her chest, with a grimace, properly scolded. “Get Pat and shut up. I got it!”

~.~

Pat jogs out of the Pit Stop, wiping his sweaty brow with a rag when he hears the loud noise coming in from outside. “Did you find her?”

Rick kicks at the garbage cans lined up at the curb.

“I know you’re stressed.” Pat surveys the trash now littered along the sidewalk. “But you’re picking that up. And replacing those bins.”

"Fine!" Rick kicks another one.

Pat’s mouth thins into a straight line, evidently not being listened to.

“That would be a no,” Yolanda fills in with a frown. “Courtney’s circling around her neighbourhood. Pat checked the school. I’m still not getting anything from the coms.”

Rick lists off his search efforts in anxious detail, counting them out on his gloved fingers. “I tried the tunnels since her goggles don’t work down there. The ISA lair was empty. The cells were unlocked. I knocked down Grundy’s old cage, nothing.” He's frantic, tugging at the base of his hourglass, as though getting choked by his remaining time. “There’s nothing! I thought I could find that her goggles fell off or one of her gloves, anything—”

"Dr. Mid-Nite? Please answer. Make a noise if you can hear this. This is Wildcat, are you okay? Dr. Mid-Nite?"

“And I went back to the last place I saw her.” Jennie wilts, sinking down to sit on the steps. She wraps her arms around her knees, the lantern firmly placed at her feet. “This is my fault.”

Yolanda gives up on reaching Beth for a moment, taking a seat beside Jennie to console her.

“I should’ve paired with her,” Rick mutters, just barely loud enough for the others to hear. “We always do these stupid patrols together.”

“The patrols are not stupid!” Courtney butts in with a scoff. The Cosmic Staff charges at Rick in her defense. Unthinking, he swats it away with his strength, sending it flying out in the other direction.

“Hey! Don’t hurt the staff!”

“Whatever, Court!” Rick snaps. “Beth is actually missing and none of us have a clue as to where she is, we’re not going to be talking about your staff’s feelings—”

Yolanda wrings her hands and gets up abruptly. “Maybe the goggles malfunctioned again and she got lost somewhere.”

“She’s literally biked to every square foot of this town.”

“The goggles malfunctioning is a good theory, Yolanda.” Rick opens his mouth to retort and Pat continues before he can start another fight, “I’ve already given Barb a call in case she calls our house. Girls, why don’t you check your cell phones?”

The girls file back into the Pit Stop. Rick hovers by the door, reluctant to go in with them.

“Pat? Why aren’t you worried?” The tone borders on accusatory. Rick’s face is still covered by the dark mask, blending into the dark night, but his concern is transparent through his eyes.

Pat sighs. “It’s only been 2 hours. Beth is a smart girl.”

“She’s a smart, small, pretty girl in Blue Valley. A town full of murderers.”

“I’m well aware of that, Rick.” He pulls the rag out to wipe his face again. “But freaking out and hurting people’s feelings isn’t going to help anybody find her.”

“But—” Rick turns his face away, twisting the chain hanging from his neck again. “Sitting here isn’t helping either!”

We’re gathering clues and searching the town. I didn’t say we’re giving up.” Pat takes his time. “Look, I know you care about—”

“I just don’t know what I’d do if something bad happens to her!” He gestures at himself. “Or if this runs out and I can’t help her. It isn’t like Beth to….go silent.”

Pat claps a hand over the shoulder of Rick’s golden cape. “I know.”

“Pat!” Yolanda bursts out through the side door. Courtney and Jennie quick at her heels. “She’s okay! I heard her voice through the helmet! She’s on her way back!"

“What?” Rick shot up. “Where?”

Though he doesn’t have to look far. She’s at the corner, stumbling in her haste to get to them in the dark. The girls all scream and run and fly out to her, ignoring Pat’s insistence that Courtney and Jennie should at least try to conceal themselves in the middle of the road.

Rick sits back down heavy on the step, flooded with relief.

When Beth makes her way over, Pat checks to make sure she’s not wounded, but she waves him off, yanking down her green cowl. “I’m fine, Mr. Dugan. Just thirsty.”

“I’ll get you water!” Jennie practically shouts, rushing to the kitchenette inside the garage. “We’re never splitting up again!”

“What happened?” Pat exclaims. “We’ve searched the whole town!”

Her eyes slide to Rick and the glowing sand in his hourglass.

“You were all looking for me?”

“Yeah,” says Rick. “I was about to throw up.”

“Someone hacked into my goggles and faked Courtney’s call.” Beth cringes. “The Shade uh...wanted to talk?”

“The Shade?”

Courtney's curls whipped back violently. “He WHAT?”

“I’m okay!” Beth reassures them all again when they panic. “He messed up my goggles so I couldn’t use them until he finished what he had to say. He even dropped me off in his car by Richie’s when we were done talking.”

Courtney prompts, impatient, “And he talked to you about…?”

Beth sighs. “He’s giving Barbara an ultimatum about the Zarick artifacts.”

Yolanda grips onto her arm. “He kidnapped you to make a business arrangement?”

“He let me go afterwards!” Beth drops her gaze to her brown boots, feeling a bit embarrassed now that she sees how long she’s been gone. “He really wants that wand, Mr. Dugan.”

“I’m sure,” Pat says, rolling his eyes. “Barb and I will worry about the Zarick stuff tomorrow. We’re glad that you’re safe.”

Jennie returns with water and a snack. Beth takes a sip then excuses herself to change out of her Dr. Mid-Nite costume. When she returns, she settles next to Rick, who hasn’t said a word since their short exchange.

“So…” she starts timidly. “You were gonna throw up?”

Rick pulls her in for an embrace. She gasps. “Only you could have a whole civil conversation with a supervillain and walk out unscathed.”

“Rick! You’re crushing me!”

“Shit!” He lets go immediately when he feels the hard edge of the hourglass glowing in the wedge between them, reminding Rick his hugs right now would hurt. “Shit! Sorry! God, I’m sorry. I just didn’t—”

“It’s okay.” Beth throws her arms around his neck, squeezing tight. Rick closes his eyes, eased. He’ll let her do the holding. “I thought you were going to be mad.”

“What?” He turns to look at her. She’s so close, still hugging him, he has to look away. “No, I was worried. I turned the tunnels upside down for you.”

“Oh.” Beth lets go, but taps on the glass as the final grains of sand slide through the pinhole. “Really?”

“I’d do it again.” He clears his throat and adds, “For all of you, I mean. If you disappeared, um…” He trails off, unsure of why he’s feeling so awkward.

But Beth merely nods, seeming to understand. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.” They both look down at his chest, watching the hourglass to power down. Beth shoots him a timid smile. “Want to try that hug again?”

“Sure.” He stands up and extends out a hand, reeling her in.

[masculinepeacock]

this is set in the toxic figaelwyn verse, and started out as a march prompt from this list (day 16)

16. Thunderstorms

This really isn’t something that they did, but Fig got in her car and drove anyway. Aelwyn and Fig didn’t usually find each other on purpose. They didn’t call, or text, they just did what they did when they happened to be in the same place. But tonight Aelwyn called her.

Fig hated that she had gotten attached enough to Aelwyn fucking Abernant to be worried about her.

She pulled up at the edge of the park, and zipped up her rain jacket to shield herself from the pouring rain. Even when Fig got out of the car she didn’t see Aelwyn see anywhere. Her jacket hood didn’t cover her horns, and the edges of her sweatpants were getting wet in the puddles.

She kind of hated that Aelwyn was gonna see her like this, in sweats with no makeup. They never stayed long enough to see the other person like this.

When Fig did eventually find Aelwyn, she was sitting on one of the swings. Her blonde hair was plastered to her face and neck by the rain, and her clothes had been soaked through. The rain had made the temperature cool down drastically, and Aelwyn was shivering in her skirt and crop top. She was covered in goosebumps.

Fig crouched down in front of her, so she could see her face. She was so unprepared to help her and it made her heart race. Aelwyn’s face was blank, all the water on her face was from the rain. Her makeup had run and when she looked at Fig, she looked for a second like she didn’t recognize her.

“Shit,” Fig muttered underneath her breath, and then stood up. “We gotta get you out of the rain.” She offered her hand to Aelwyn, and held it there for a second. Aelwyn didn’t move for a beat, and Fig got worried she was going to have to move Aelwyn herself. Then Aelwyn got up and moved, bypassing Fig’s hand, moving straight towards the direction Fig had come from. Fig caught up and led the way to the car.

Once they got in, Fig reached into her backseat and grabbed the towel she had grabbed before she left home, and handed it to Aelwyn. As if on autopilot she started to dry off her hair. A clap of thunder sounded and almost immediately afterwards Fig saw lightning in the distance. Aelwyn flinched, and then paused.

Still looking forward, she said, “Your car is a lot cleaner than I thought it would be.”

“Ha!” Fig barked. “Really? Right now?”

Aelwyn laughed slightly, “Did you really expect anything different?”

“No, I guess I didn’t,” Fig said, squinting at the road. “We’re almost to my house.”

“We’re going to your house?”

“Well, I had a feeling there was a reason you called me and didn’t call, y’know, Adaine.”

“Adaine and I aren’t speaking right now,” Aelwyn said, and started to wipe at the makeup on her face using Fig’s towel.

“Oh?”

Aelwyn side-eyed Fig, almost like Fig was acting suspiciously. “This isn’t the type of thing we usually talk about.”

“Listen, you called me,” Fig said and raised her shoulders defensively. “If you don’t wanna talk we don’t have to.”

“I don’t want to talk,” Aelwyn leaned her head back on the headrest. “I just want to sleep.”

“You can sleep at mine.”

“Your parents won’t mind?”

Fig shrugged, “Probably won’t notice.” She kept her eyes straight as she took them to her house, trying not to think about how much her home life has changed since the two of them would even consider each other friends.

Before Fig and Aelwyn got out of her car once they got to her house, Fig could swear she heard Aelwyn mutter a quick, “Thank you.”

She ignored it.

Fig was tiny compared to Aelwyn’s elven height, so she grabbed one of Gorgug’s sweatshirts for her, and a pair of Fig’s sweatpants that probably wouldn’t even reach her ankles.

“I’m gonna make hot chocolate,” Fig said. “You want some?”

“Do you make it with milk?”

“Do I look like a heathen?”

“Yes, typically,” Aelwyn said.

Fig rolled her eyes and started to walk downstairs after quickly changing out of her own wet clothes. “You know where the bathroom is, and the bed.”

She made two cups of hot chocolate, and carefully the full mugs up the stairs to her attic bedroom. When she got there, Aelwyn was already asleep, curled up against the wall, leaving room for Fig.

Fig sat in her desk chair instead, sipping her own chocolate. She blamed that for the warm feeling growing in her chest.

But there was nowhere to place the blame for the itch to write song lyrics and notes, except for the girl curled up in her bed.

[honey-hippie-harper]

In-Laws Being In-Laws (Re-upload)

 Hiii!

So, this is basically an old fic, which I deleted from my other account ( @dawniebb ) and was requested to be uploaded again.

This feels like a lifetime ago afgshjka, but I remember it was written for a Renegades content swap event, and it was for @healing-winston-pratt (hello, wifey!). The prompt was, basically, Nova and one of the Renegays being in-laws, and it was super fun to write! <3

If anyone’s reading this: Hi, you’re a beautiful human being, and I love you <3

In-Laws Being In-Laws

Dear Dread Warden,

I am not quite sure you will get this message because it is been a while since I last used my communicator but, in case you do: I  hope you are having a nice morning. 

The reason I am writing you this is that, as you must already be aware, right now Sketch and his teammates are taking part in the Annual Renegade Convention as special guests to be awarded for their heroic participation in the Second Battle for Gatlon. Hence, they are out of town. Due to my temporary resignation from the team, I declined the offer to attend the event and, for instance, to receive an award. This means that, unlike theirs, my routine remains the same as usual.

Unfortunately, I must see my therapist for my weekly appointment in two hours, and after that I will have to go to the supermarket to pick up some groceries and essential items. Under normal circumstances, given the nature of my relationship with Sketch, he would have driven me to the supermarket and then back to my apartment, as it happens to be located sort of far from the store and it could be pretty difficult for me to walk while carrying all those bags. However, as mentioned before, these are not normal circumstances and Sketch is not currently available.

I reach out to you with no intention to cause trouble; for instance, if I happen to be asking too much or disrupting your schedule (As I am conscious you are a busy person) and you consider you will not be able to help me, I assure you I completely understand. But: Could you pick me up from my therapist's office and take me to the supermarket afterwards?

I apologize for the inconvenience and I promise I will make sure this does not happen again. In addition, I also apologize for the alliteration in the greeting at the beginning of this message. I did not know whether you wanted to be acknowledged by your real name or your alias.

Sincerely,

Insomnia.

-.-

Hi, Insomnia!!!

So nice to see you!... Or should I say read you! Ha! It's been so long, it almost feels like an eternity! I hope therapy is going great! (We're all really proud of you!)

It doesn't bother me at all, sweetheart; of course I'll help you with that. Could you share the location of your therapist's office, please?

Oh, and also: What time do you want me to be there? (Not that I have anything to do today, I just want to be on time).  

I'm excited to see you! Can I take you to eat something afterwards? How does that sound?

Take care!

(Agh. I forgot these things don't actually allow you to write your real  name).

-S i m o n.

(Better).

-.-

He spotted Nova way before parking. She was sitting on a bench outside the building, staring anxiously at her phone. The body language of a nervous person.

Simon stopped the car right in front of where she was, and when she realized he was already here, Nova jumped out of her seat as if it had burned her skin, before jogging in an awkward manner towards the car.

Once she was inside, Simon couldn't help but feel a twinge in his stomach. He wasn't lying when he told her he was excited to see her. In fact, he was more than excited, and he had to hold himself back pretty hard to avoid hugging her, because it was evident she didn't want to be hugged right now, for she just directed a tiny smile at him and said:

"Hi."

She was the same Nova he had met some time ago, but at the same time she was different; she was wearing sneakers, skinny jeans and a basic white v-neck shirt; her hair was a little longer, too, to the point she could tie it in a cute little ponytail; Simon could tell she wasn’t wearing any makeup, but still her face looked healthier than before; less tired, with smaller under-eye dark circles and lips covered in chapstick. Finally.

She looked alive. More than before.

“Hi.” He finally responded.

Watching people get better was always satisfactory, but watching Nova get better was different. He had grown to appreciate her, since the very first moment he saw her with Adrian; since the very first moment he spoke to her and saw nothing but utter heartbreak in her eyes. Nova was hurting, and any sensitive person would’ve noticed that. So, watching her get better was a touching experience for him.

“You look so…”

Nova interrupted him almost immediately.

“I know. I...I barely had time to fix my hair. Gosh. It’s so uncomfortable and I want to cut it but I haven’t had time. I…”

“Oh, no, no, no! Your hair looks gorgeous! “ He chuckled, although he was confused by her reaction. “I was gonna say you look really good. Really, really good. The ponytail looks great on you.”

Nova gulped as she adjusted said ponytail.

“Oh.” She muttered in a hoarse voice. “...Well...Thank you. I thought…”

“No, no.” Simon waved his hand. “You look great. How.... how are you?”

She seemed to be processing the question, even though it was not that difficult.

“I’m…” Nova cleared her throat. “I’m doing great. How are you? How’s ...life going?”

“Absolutely great!” Simon smiled, clapping his hands together. “Things at home are great. You know, Hugh’s not currently here due to the Annual Renegade Convention. Adrian’s not here either (for sure, you already know about that) and Max…”

“Max went too, yeah.” Nova smiled. Her eyes seemed to brighten to the mention of Max’s name. Adrian had mentioned this fact about her a couple of times: Nova was fond of children. And even if she wasn’t, she had a tendency to protect and care about them. Since she had this type of strong personality, Hugh refused to recognize that as a truth, but Simon had no trouble believing it.

It was adorable.

“He called me when he got the invitation. He was eager to go.” She continued. “Which doesn’t surprise me. I...It’s his first time travelling, right?”

“Oh, yeah.” Responded Simon. “We’re planning to go on vacation this year. Because, you know, the convention’s being held not too far away from Gatlon and sadly he’s probably gonna get bored.”

“Bored?” Nova shifted herself in the seat, awkwardly. “Why?”

“Well...those conventions are...well, conventions.” Simon shrugged, smiling at her. “There are a lot of speeches, one after the other and, sure, the guests that represent Gatlon can skip some of them, but others are mandatory and they’re like 2 hours long and it’s so boring and…”

Nova hissed, grimacing, to which Simon nodded in agreement.

“I’m glad I didn’t have to go.” He admitted. “Though I do wanted to be there when Adrian and Max received their award. Too sad.”

Nova tried to speak a couple of times, until she finally had found the correct words to said her thoughts out loud.

“Why...why didn’t you go, then?”

“About that.” Simon chuckled. “Tamaya is going to be there too, as a speaker. And she’s also receiving an award. So...somebody had to take care of the Headquarters and Kasumi and I were left with that responsibility. However, it’s been pretty peaceful, as you may have noticed.”

“I have.” Nova nodded. “Not that I...go out very much, but yeah. Things have been calm.”

“People are behaving for once. And it’s awesome.” he sighed.

Then they stayed in silence. For a while.

Nova stared out the window, avoiding eye contact, while Simon whistled as he tapped his fingers on the wheel.

Not a word. No small talk.

Nothing.

“Sooooo…” Said Simon. “Shall we go?”

“Perhaps we should.” Nova said, immediately, as a flash of relief crossed her face.

So Simon smiled at her once again as he turned on the engine, while Nova put on her seatbelt next to him.

-.-

It took her so little time to come back Simon confirmed she was one of those people who would strategically write their shopping list so they wouldn’t be going back and forth through the aisles. It also surprised him that, being a person so young, she was so...focused on everything.

She really had only bought groceries and essential items. No junk food. No silly things she swore she would need and then she didn’t. Not even candy from the checkout area.

Simon hurried himself out of the car to help her put the bags in the trunk, but once she saw him and guessed his intentions, she quickly said:

“It’s okay. I can do it.”

“I know you can.” He clarified. Because, well, she indeed was a strong person. “But maybe you could use some help. That’s...a couple of bags.”

“Yeah. I know.” Nova nodded, already carrying the first two of the bags. “But I can do it. Please. I’m already causing you too much trouble.”

Simon was yet again confused by her reaction, and he tried to talk to her about it. But just like Nova looked like she didn’t want to be hugged right now, she also looked like she didn’t want to talk about it right now.

So he just opened the trunk for her and held it in case it would go down by its own. It had never happened, but just to be sure. Sometimes Simon’s anxiety made him overanalyze some situations.

Less than 10 minutes had passed by the time Nova finished putting all her stuff in the car, Simon figured she was still training, since she was as agile and fast as she was the day she notified them she would be taking some time off from the team and the Renegades in general.

They got in the car again, and before the silence could get as uncomfortable as the previous one, Simon took the initiative to speak.

“I think...you forgot to answer a part of my message.” He said, carefully. “You know...the part where I told you that maybe we could...go to a restaurant or something?”

Nova’s face, ears and neck turned so red she became a human-shaped cherry, and although in other circumstances he would’ve considered it adorable, this time he couldn’t help but feel sympathy for her. He had been there and done that many times; the messages Nova had sent were peak odd. The type of messages one would overthink over and over again because they had to be perfect. And if something, anything sounded off after you sent it, your world would be in shambles.

So he just smiled to assure it was okay. That he didn’t mind. That those messages didn’t have to be so formal in the first place.

And that, obviously, didn’t work.

For his experience, it never did.

“I...I...Yeah.” Nova scratched her brow. “Pretty much I...I...can recall not knowing how to word that so I just left it blank and I...must’ve forgotten to…”

“Nova.” Simon said, softly. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“Did I...offend you or something?”

“Absolutely no!” He said. “Why would you think that? It’s just a slip. I know it wasn’t your intention and to be honest I still want to take you to eat something so...yeah, there’s no reason to get weird about this. There’s no need to worry.”

Nova took a deep, hasty breath. She was flustered, son Simon tried to keep her calm; to make her feel like she was in a safe environment.

Why wouldn’t she be, in the first place?

She was his son’s girlfriend.

Why would he want to hurt her or make her feel bad?

“Nova, darling.” He said again. “Do you have something on your mind?”

“I do.” Nova cleared her throat, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t really...can eat out right now. I barely manage to afford my groceries, you know? It’s been…”

“But you’re not gonna pay your own bill. I mean, why would you do that?” Simon raised an eyebrow at her, genuinely confused, but still laughing nervously. Sweet rot, who had hurt this child so much? “ I’m the one who’s taking you to eat. You wouldn’t have to…”

“You don’t have to either!” She snapped. Not mad, but rather distressed, while breathing heavily.

Simon went still, afraid he would make it worse. Still, he couldn’t leave it like that, so he gulped and, once he reunited enough courage, he dared to speak again.

“What’s really on your mind, Nova?” He asked, this time in a more soothing voice. Nova’s whole being went red again, but the shadow of confusion in her expression was noticeable and hard to ignore. For this reason, Simon decided to provide some kind of scaffolding.

“For example: Why would you write a message that is directed to me in such a formal way?” He asked, patiently. “Why would you ask me to pick you up as if you were asking me to help you commit a crime? Why would you act so uncomfortable around me when it’s not the first time that we’ve met? Why would you…?”

“Because it’s you.” Nova answered, avoiding eye contact.

And he expected that answer, yes. But, at the same time, he expected to understand the statement once it slipped out of her mouth.

However, he didn’t.

“Can you elaborate?” He requested.

Nova clicked her tongue as she rubbed her neck, staring at the dash right in front of her.

“...I can disappear if you want me to. Would that make you feel more comfortable?”

“No. No, no.” Nova nodded, waving her hands, finally looking at him. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Then...would you tell me what’s wrong?”

Nova thought about it. She squirmed in her seat. Gulped. Coughed. Squirmed again.

Then, playing with her own hands, she spoke.

“...I’m ashamed.”

“Ashamed of what…?” Simon tilted his head to the side. “Ashamed of who…? What exactly are you ashamed of? ...Dating Adrian?”

Nova flinched.

“I would never.”

A spark of pride illuminated his thoughts and his insides in general, but Simon tried to pay little attention to it.

“I’m just...ashamed. Of everything.” Nova said, sighing. “I…”

And she cut herself in the middle of the phrase, realizing that once again she wouldn’t be able to finish it.

Simon didn’t realize he was frowning until he felt the muscles of his face slowly giving in. He understood.

And he knew that anything that had happened during the Second Battle for Gatlon had been her fault. She might have contributed in some way but, at the end of the day, she was just a child.

A very confused and manipulated child who just needed someone to listen without twisting her words as they pleased.

“...I just think that...if I were you I wouldn’t like me either.” She wasn’t crying, nor did she sound like she was about to any time soon. There was so much resignation in her voice that her words weighted as much as a giant rock. “Hugh gave me his blessing to...you know, date Adrian…”

“I can recall giving you my blessing too.”

Nova tripped on her own words.

“I mean, you did. You both did.” She said. “But still… It’s because… because you want him to be happy. And I get it. I really do. And I understand because, like I said, I wouldn’t like me either...I know I am loved. I know I matter for some people...but I also know I did...bad things, and I carry this sort of cursed last name…”

She stopped and breathed for a second before continuing.

“And I…” She finally looked at him. “I get it. You don’t have to pretend you like me, after all that happened. After I stole stuff from your house; infiltrated into your system; caused a terrorist attack...You really don’t have to pretend.”

Simon blinked, and if it wasn’t for her specific and controlled body language, he would’ve thought she was making excuses or even joking.

But Nova was telling the truth.

And it was heartbreaking.

“Perhaps you should think outside the box and picture a scenario in which you realize we’re not pretending.” That’s the only thing he said.

“Perhaps you should realize that we love you and you matter to us.” He reached for her hand and softly touched her knuckles. Her hands were shaking. “And that, yes, we want Adrian to be happy, but we also want you to be happy.”

Nova’s eyes seemed to be covered in crystals, but she remained in silence.

“You’re part of this family now, Nova.” He smiled. “And I’m sorry, but you’ll have to deal with that.”

Nova sniffed, swallowing, while lacing her hand into Simon’s.

“Artino and everything?” She muttered.

“Artino it’s not what defines you.” Simon chuckled. “You’re Nova. Just Nova... And we’re really proud of you. Not ashamed.”

She smiled back at him, wordless, and Simon gave her a quick handshake before putting his hands around the wheel.

Because even now, that her walls were crumbling right before her eyes, she didn’t look like someone who wanted to be hugged at the moment, and he accepted and respected that.

“I was planning to take you to my favorite restaurant, but maybe we can prepare a homemade meal instead?” He suggested. “You know? In-laws being in-laws? … Not to brag, but I make the best lemon pie in the world.”

Nova chuckled. Relaxed.

Happy.

“Sounds great.” She said, nodding.

“Excellent.” Simon turned on the engine.

“Let’s go home.”

[all-about-kyu]

Hii, I hope you’re doing well today. ☺️ Congrats on 300 followers 💕!! (I’m your new one hehe) May I please request a Johnny drabble with extra fluffy prompts 31 and 37? Take care~

I tweaked the second prompt to fit the storyline just a heads up! (hi dear! welcome I hope you enjoy it here! I’m doing pretty good! 💕)

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Johnny x gn!reader

Warning: thunderstorms

Summary: A thunderstorm is the perfect excuse for an unplanned romantic dinner with Johnny.

Word Count: 563

It’s been raining all day and that gave you the perfect excuse to clean around the house while Johnny was gone. You two had just moved in together not too long ago but it was like you had been living together for years at this point. By the end of the afternoon you had managed to get all of the laundry done, dust every possible corner of the house, reorganize the bookshelves, and sweep and mop all the floors. The only thing left to do was to wax the floors and that was in your opinion the best part. Only because that meant you got to slide around the house in fluffy socks afterward. Just as you were finishing up the kitchen area you hear the front door open and close followed by a bag dropping. You move as quickly as you can to the front door.

“Johnny! Don’t move whatever you do!”

He looks at you with a shocked expression “O-okay, might I ask why I can’t move?”

“I just waxed the floors,” you explain “I don’t want you messing it up like you did last time, so take off your shoes and go grab your fluffy socks.” you beam

He shakes his head looking down at his feet while letting out an airy giggle “Alright dearest, let me go do that then we can make some dinner, how does that sound?” he places a kiss on the top of your head.

You were humming as you prepped dinner when a large clap of thunder resounded through the sky followed by your lights flickering the shutting out. Luckily you had a gas stove so you continued to cook dinner for you both after the initial shock of the power outage. Not before long Johnny appears behind you placing his arms around you just enjoying your presence. He let out a sigh before speaking up.

“Well, this power outage will last a while so now we have to have dinner by candlelight. I’m not complaining though, you always looked so beautiful in candlelight.” he holds you tighter to him and kissing your cheek, “I’ll go dig out the candles while you finish up plating and everything.”

As your dinner progressed you would continuously catch Johnny staring at you with the most loving expressions making you blush, which luckily couldn’t be seen due to the low lighting. Quiet nights like these were hard to come by recently so this involuntary romantic dinner was beyond needed. After you had both finished eating you took the plates back to the kitchen to wash. And again like a lost puppy, Johnny clung to your side giving you heart eyes the entire time.

“What do you keep looking at?” you giggled

“You.” he smiled

“Do I look weird?” you questioned back

“No, you look like the love of my life.”

You blushed and splashed his face with water “D-don’t say cheesy stuff like that! You’ll make me blush!”

“I know you didn’t just splash me.” he playfully taunted

“And if I did?” you tease back

“I’m gonna tickle you to death is what’s gonna happen.” reaching for your sides

You squeal and book it down the hallway towards your shared room Johnny hot on your trail. You were so in love with him you had no idea how to handle it, and you knew he felt the same.

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[hippohead]

Okay, here goes for the prompts: number 4 on friends to lovers!

I hope you're doing well :)

thank you so much! sorry it took a little while also i’m feeling a little rusty but here’s a little something-something. 

4. “you deserve better. it doesn’t have to be me, but you deserve better.”

Blaine went through a superhero phase when they were seven years old.

Kurt went along with it because he liked the capes and he thought it was cute when Blaine lifted his fist into the air and pretended to fly. The only part of it that was tedious was The Question, every day:

“What would your superpower be?”

The first time he asked it, Kurt answered honestly: “I want to be like Matilda. Move things with my mind and stuff.”

Blaine nodded and then picked super speed for himself. He ran around his backyard in loops until even Kurt felt dizzy, and they decided to just be superheroes who lay on the grass for the rest of the evening.

But then he asked it the next day, and the next, and the one after that. Over and over for almost a year. He wasn’t allowed to say the same one twice. Kurt ran out of superpowers to want.  

When he finally moved on to his next obsession, Kurt was relieved, but right now he’d give anything for Blaine to ask him that question.

He’s not sure why Blaine would, though, considering it’s been over twenty years since the last time he did and they’re both wearing suits, not capes. But he’s got a new answer.

Time travel.

In fact, he’d do just about anything to flick a switch or drive a car past 88 or hop into a telephone box and end up thirty seconds earlier, before he said The Words.

The words. The ones that weren’t meant to come out. The one’s he’d vowed to keep stuck inside of his throat, even if it made it hard to breathe sometimes.

“You deserve better. It doesn’t have to be me, but you deserve better.”

Most of the sentence was fine and allowed. Most of it.

“What- what did you say?”

Shit. “I said you deserve better.”

God, he can see a million different things on Blaine’s face right now. He’s read those lines so many times; deciphered them, understood them, figured them out. He can still see all of the lingering pain about Tom not showing up, and the anger at himself for letting that be okay, and the tiredness of fighting for a relationship that neither person really wants. He can see the comfort that Kurt’s giving him, his best friend, in this tiny little restaurant cloak room, and the confusion, too.

“Look, I know you don’t like Tom-”

“It’s your thirtieth birthday. He should be here,” and it comes out like grit in Kurt’s teeth.

Blaine doesn’t say anything. If he did, he’d have to admit that this is actually pretty low on the list of Tom let-downs. There’s been worse - this one just looks bad.

“We should get back out there,” Kurt says, just to say something. The air is starting to feel too stuffy in here. He starts to leave, aware that Blaine’s parents and their mutual friends and a couple of Blaine’s coworkers are sitting at their table, probably wondering where on earth they’d disappeared to.

"Kurt?”

He stops halfway through the door, bracing himself - there’s no way Blaine would let Kurt just breeze over a slip-up like that. It’s not the first slip-up, either. There have been others in the past, from both of them. And it always goes the same way; the one who slipped up deflects and ignores, and the one who heard the slip-up pushes a little bit, desperate to see if the other will be brave this time.

Neither of them are ever brave.  

“Yeah?” he says, resigned to the inevitable.

There’s plead in Blaine’s eyes – so much so that it makes Kurt kind of want to be brave this time, even though Blaine hasn’t questioned him yet. He’s gotten stuck, just sort of halted and trying to find the words.  

And then the soft sound of a Billy Joel song starts to play from Blaine’s pocket – his ringtone.  

Blaine holds his gaze for a second and then checks his phone, sighing, with a little puff of exasperation once he registers who’s calling. “It’s Tom.”

Kurt nods, drained of any bravery, and heads back to the table.  

- - - - -

Kurt drops Blaine home after the dinner because even after the phone call, Tom still didn’t turn up.

It’s a quiet ride. Blaine had managed to do what Blaine does best which is to put on a cheerful face and convince a room full of loved ones that he’s fine, but he doesn’t have to do that in this car. Not in Kurt’s presence.  

There’s a free spot right by Blaine’s apartment building so he pulls into it and turns the car off. It’s even more quiet now; the hum of the engine had been giving them some kind of music and it’s confronting now that it’s gone. He waits. Blaine seems settled in his seat. He’s staring at the sidewalk, curved in on himself but grounded, grounded to the space next to Kurt.  

“Are you okay?”

Blaine’s shoulders lift, “I’ve had better birthdays.”

Kurt thinks that’s all he’s going to say but then he keeps going, his tone lightening a little bit.

“Do you remember that time you paid for all of the Warblers to fly into the city to surprise me?”

Kurt laughs, melodic and sweet at the memory, “I overshot my budget a lot that year.”

“I couldn’t understand why you wanted to go to the top of the Empire State so badly on my birthday,” Blaine laughs too.  

“God, it was so stressful. Rachel was helping me co-ordinate it all but there was no service in the subway, and I had no idea if they were all in position and ready, and you were being... difficult, to say the least.”

“I wanted to go to Benny’s.”

That makes Kurt smile. It had been for Blaine’s twenty-first birthday. It was a big deal. And all Blaine wanted to do was get a milkshake from their favourite diner. Maybe share a plate of fries. Nothing big or fancy – just dinner in a place they discovered together. “If I remember correctly, I took you to Benny’s afterwards.”

“You did,” Blaine confirms. And then, with an odd mixture of wist and sadness, “I can’t believe you did all of that for me.”

“Is this your way of telling me you hate the watch?” and it’s an attempt to lighten the mood back up. He reaches for Blaine’s wrist and picks it up, admiring the new silver and ignoring the way it makes him feel to have Blaine’s skin under his palm.  

“I love the watch.”

They catch each other’s eyes and oh, here it is. He almost got away with it.  

“What did you mean tonight?”

Kurt drops his wrist.  

“When you said it didn’t have to be you, but I deserved better?”

He looks straight ahead, the heat from Blaine’s stare burning into his cheek. He doesn’t know how to tell this lie again.  

“Kurt?”

“Do you want me to be brave?” he asks, almost wanting permission to be.

Blaine nods, resolute. “I want you to be honest.”

Okay. There’s the permission. And he keeps it simple. “It doesn’t have to be me, but I want it to be.”

Blaine nods again, barely surprised. “Why didn’t you tell me this when we were seven?”

“Seven-year-olds aren’t in love yet.”

“We were.”  

And maybe they were, or maybe they fell into it somewhere along the way, but one thing is for sure.  

They definitely are now.  

Blaine looks like he wants to kiss Kurt but doesn’t, mumbles a little incoherently about needing to sort some things out first which they both know means breaking up with his useless boyfriend, and then he squeezes Kurt’s hand.  

Just as Blaine’s reaching for the door handle, Kurt can’t help but ask him something.  

“Blaine?”

“Yeah?”

“What would your superpower be?”

Blaine looks a little confused, and then the context of his old obsession sinks in and his eyes crinkle as he laughs. And once his laughter settles, he thinks about it. “Time travel.”

He means: I wish I could go back to that day in Eighth Grade when we came out to each other and explain that you were the reason I knew, or, I wish I could go back to that party we went to when we were 17 and instead of getting horrendously drunk, kiss you instead, or, I wish I could go back to that night at your first apartment in New York when we argued and hold your hand instead. And Kurt knows that’s what he means.  

“What about you?”

Kurt sets him with a look that is love, and adoration, and hope, and says, “I’m gonna go back to my original answer.”

“The Matilda thing?”

And he remembers. Of course he remembers. 

“Yeah. The Matilda thing.”

[themaribatpit]

Jasonette July Day 20: Then Perish

Written by: The Maribat Pit @jasonette-july-event​ Prompt: Then Perish (Part 1) Rating: M (violence, minor character deaths) A/N: We wanted to finish Jasonette July with a bang.  The second half will be posted tomorrow for the Saturday Challenge.  We’ve appreciated all your comments and kind words, we really do read every one. It genuinely means a lot to us and encourages us to continue writing together.  As a fandom you have been nothing but kind and supportive, and we enjoy bringing you fics great and small with a wide variety of genres, dynamics, and iterations.  Also blame DC fanboy for the memes in this fic. Marinette loved to travel, she had traveled all over the world from New York to Shanghai. Today, she traveled with her parents to Gotham City to visit her parents' friends, whom they had not seen in many years. Sabine was initially afraid to visit Gotham City, due to its crime rate and ever-growing list of criminals. Tom reassured his wife, saying that his big stature would scare any would-be criminal from harming them, that the trip would be short and they would visit Metropolis afterwards. Marinette wore the Ladybug Miraculous, just in case something were to happen. As the family got off the taxi at Park Row, everyone felt something was off. "Park Row really has...changed." Thomas muttered. Sabine held on to both her husband and her daughter, "I think we should leave." she said. Soon shadows began appearing around the corner, then came the yelling, and soon after came the gunshots. Thomas grabbed his wife and daughter and ran to find shelter from a hail of bullets. Marinette looked back to see many civilians, men, women and children caught in the middle of this gang war.  She needed to be a hero, her father could take care of her mother, she needed to save those in danger. She freed herself from her father's grasp and ran behind a corner, she whispered "spots on" and transformed into Ladybug. Diving and flipping across streaking bullets everywhere, she flung her yo-yo to drag any unfortunate bystanders into an abandoned building. While in a building with innocent civilians, she peeked her head out the window to see a monstrous man.  Wearing a blood red helmet and wielding two pistols, he systematically killed everyone before him. His flips and kicks were graceful yet brutal, the cries of pain and pleas for mercy made her shudder. She couldn't fight him, no, she was afraid to. It would be best to find her family, she did all she could and got bystanders to safety. She quietly transformed back into Marinette and went to look for her family. She ran back to where she last saw them, she scoured the streets shouting "Maman! Papa!" hoping that using her French would help her parents find and identify her. She soon ran into the Red Beast, as she began to turn and run back before she saw the two people at his feet. “<No, no no no, please god no.>” she whispered to herself, tears building in her eyes. There lay her parents, in a pool of their blood with bullet holes between their eyes. Marinette dropped to her knees, silently crying. The Red Hood either didn't see her, or chose to spare her and decided to walk away. Marinette ran to her parents, grabbing them both and shaking them. "<Don’t leave me, please don’t leave me>” she wept. Later, she was picked up by the GCPD. They escorted her on the flight back to Paris along with the remains of her parents. When she arrived, she was approached by the Aide Sociale à L'enfance (ASE).  They told her that she'll be staying at a nearby orphanage until after her parents' funeral. Then she would then be sent off to live with her only remaining relative, her Great-Uncle Wang in Shanghai. On the night before the funeral, Marinette was unable to sleep.  She curled her legs to her chest while she sat on the mattress.  She has spent the past few days researching the mysterious Red Hood, crime boss and self-proclaimed Prince of Gotham.  She read article after article of his meteoric rise to power, first conquering Black Mask, then The Penguin. Nightmares plagued her whenever she closed her eyes, she saw the Red Hood tower over her parent's lifeless bodies, covered in their blood. She was worried about being sent off to a foreign country tomorrow evening, while barely even speaking any Mandarin. All the while knowing that once she is on that flight to Shanghai, her parent's killer would without a doubt walk free. Morning comes, yet Marinette still thinks of what she should do. Could she really go to Shanghai to start her life anew, not knowing the language and allowing her parents’ killer to go on unpunished? At the funeral, while standing over her parents’ graves, she remained silent. The priest, ASE agents and her friends all came to pay their respects. Each of her friends approached her to give their sympathies, but she did not listen to a word they said. The Red Hood weighed heavily on her mind, and she made her fateful decision. To run, run and never look back. She had prepared a backpack containing the Miracle box with all the Miraculous, along with a few essential supplies and money. She turned into Multimouse to sneak on board a passenger aircraft to make her way to Gotham City.  Jason knew, better than Batman, that fighting crime sometimes meant getting your hands dirty.  What started as a petty squabble between two rival gangs grew into a bloodbath.  He missed Roy at times like these, Artemis and Bizarro were still missing, but he held out hope that they would one day return to this Earth. A teenage girl with an impressively sturdy yo-yo had burst onto the scene, trying to get civilians to safety.  He was a bit too preoccupied with the battle to get a good look at the girl.  Knowing Bruce, the next time he’d see her, she’d be under his wing.  Sadly, there were two civilians that neither of them could save, a large, burly looking man and a tiny woman.  The person who shot them with frightening accuracy had got away, moments later a teenage girl had arrived on the scene.  There was a brief flash of fear in her eyes when she saw him, and she would have just scurried away if only he hadn’t been at the very spot where her parents lay dead.  The girl was inconsolable as she fell to her knees and wept, pleading with them in French.  Red Hood walked away, thinking it would be best to leave her to grieve.  There wasn’t a whole lot he could say in English that would make her feel any better, never mind in French. He watched from a distance as the GCPD arrived to pick up the pieces, Red Hood watched from the shadows as police officers and an interpreter tried to get the girl’s side of the story.  From what he gathered, the girl’s name was Marinette Dupain-Cheng and her family owned a bakery in Paris.  Her next of kin was a relative in Shanghai, and it sounded like the best option for her would be to go and live there.   The plan was to ship her and her parents’ bodies back to Paris, and let child services take it from there.  He would have probably told her to get as far away from Gotham as possible, away from the clutches of a certain someone who was also orphaned in Crime Alley.  He saw her cradle what looked like a small pink doll to her face as she wept, before he turned and walked away. A week later, Jason had a break in the case.  This was all caused by some low-level members of the Falcone and Maroni families continuing their decades-old battle.  As far as everyone knew, the crime families swiftly executed the men responsible and went about their business.  Two crime families were unable to keep their lackeys in check, and now the people who weren’t lucky enough to be whisked away by Yo-Yo Girl, were now either dead or wishing they were.   He thought back to poor little Marinette, wondering where she was now. Bruce confronted him at the Iceberg lounge shortly after the incident, to which Jason explained that the perp had got away.   He had killed people before, and that wasn’t stopping anytime soon, after all it wasn’t that long ago that he tried to kill the Penguin.  “This may surprise you Bruce, but the Red Hood isn’t the only one who uses guns in Gotham '' he snapped.  There were some lines that even he did not cross, lines that he had drawn for himself. Judging by the accuracy of the gunshots, this was no accident.  Their daughter was probably starting a new life, probably on the other side of the world.  Still, he wished he could have said something to the girl, a simple “Hey, it’s gonna be all right” probably would have sufficed.  Little did he know that Marinette was making her return to Gotham City.  She would have her revenge on the Red Hood, and this time she had nothing to fear and nothing to lose. After her very uncomfortable 10 hour flight from Paris to Gotham City in the cargo hold, Multimouse quietly sneaked out of the crowded airport without alerting anyone. Marinette wandered around Chinatown, thinking of her next step. She was thinking about how she would have to go through the city with a fine tooth comb to search for a lead, likely starting small with his men in the streets.  Before she could put the earrings back in her backpack, Tikki begged her to reconsider what she was doing.  “Please Marinette, you need time to heal, to grieve,” she pleaded, but Marinette didn’t need the powers of healing, luck and creation. If and when she encountered the Red Hood, she wanted to bring him death, misfortune and destruction.  After all, that was exactly what he had brought her.  With a stroke of luck, she overheard someone getting a beatdown.  "You get your ass outta here, this is Red Hood's turf. If you wanna sell that shit, you gotta give the boss his cut."  Marinette whispered "Plagg, claws out" and transformed into Lady Noire, before sneaking up behind one of the Red Hood’s men. He released the person he was beating, and chased him out the alleyway.  She took this opportunity to swing her staff,  hitting the back of his neck and sending him face first into the ground. He immediately tried to stand up, as he stood on wobbly legs he took out his knife from his jacket. "Oh shit, Catwoman?!" he yelled. Lady Noire used her staff to sweep him off his feet and slammed her staff onto his face.  "Where is the Red Hood?" she growled.  "Screw you bitch!" the goon retorted. Lady Noire had a feeling that he wouldn’t tell her the location of the Red Hood, so she decided to try a different approach. "Fine then, why don't you give your boss this simple message…" Before she could finish her sentence, she heard the telltale click of a gun being loaded. She turned around and started spinning her staff, creating a grey shield to deflect the storm of bullets that were being fired at her.  She moved her hands at a rapid pace, and frantically pushed back against the hail of bullets.  As the bullet storm subsided she looked up and saw, up on the fire escape, was the Red Hood with an assault rifle. The Red Hood casually tossed his gun aside and asked "So, what's this message you have for me, Catwoman?" He gracefully did a forward flip and landed in a crouch.  "Wait a minute..." he said, the first thing he noticed was that this person was tiny, 4’11 or maybe 5’ on a good day. Her eyes were a bright acid green with dark slits like a real cat’s pupils.  "You're not Catwoman, you're too short to be her, for one thing.” he remarked “also she usually has a whip instead of a staff, who are you?" Lady Noire gritted her teeth, "You killed my family" she answered with a low growl. "Do you have the slightest idea how little that narrows it down Kitten?" Red Hood's taunts made her snap.  She screamed "YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME!" The Red Hood stared at her, as he crossed his arms.  "I don't even know who you are, what's your beef with me?" He asked, Lady Noire lunged at the Red Hood with her staff, she swung wildly to try and hit him.  He dodged most of her strikes with ease, “Is that the best you’ve got?  You’re gonna have to try harder than that.”  Where she might have lacked in skill, she made up for in determination.  She wasn’t pulling any punches, he had to give her that.  He caught the staff under his arm, and punched Lady Noire with his free arm.  As he went on the offensive, he slapped her staff aside, and came at her with a series of punches and kicks.   “So, what do you want Kitten? Money? Jewels? A very big ball of string?”  he joked.  “All I want is revenge,” she spluttered. “Get in line Kitten, you’re in the city that runs on vengeance” he retorted. Marinette was lucky that the suit gave her enhanced speed, strength and endurance. She always loved how the Lady Noire suit felt a lot lighter compared to the Ladybug suit. Though she shuddered to imagine what her opponent would do with this power.    He raised his leg to end his combination with a forceful downward kick, Lady Noire raised her staff up to a horizontal block to stop the kick. Upon contact with the kick, the staff split into two, and then Lady Noire launched into her counter attack. She was striking the Red Hood with a flurry of blows with both halves of her staff.  "Escrima sticks too? Looks like we have a Nightwing fan here” he smirked under the mask; this new girl was just full of surprises.  He brought his arms to the sides of his head in a defensive posture, blocking the onslaught of strikes from the escrima sticks.  Red Hood then grabbed Lady Noire by the back of her head, placing her in a Thai clinch. He launched a powerful knee to her face and sent her reeling back. He drew his pistols and fired a torrent of bullets at her. Lady Noire had to dodge, weave and use her staff to deflect incoming bullets. One bullet even grazed her cheek. She then pointed her staff at the Red Hood and extended it with so much force it slammed him against the wall of a nearby building. Without giving him any breathing room, she then retracted the staff. She launched herself towards him and then dropkicked his face straight into the wall. His helmet cracked against the tremendous pressure. "It's now or never” she thought, as she cast Cataclysm and swiped at one half of the Red Hood’s helmet. She saw the helmet dissolve and reveal the target beneath.  She noticed that underneath the helmet he wore a red domino mask, not unlike the one she usually wore.  She would have time to think about how overly dramatic that was later, as she used her other hand to pick up the knife on the ground that the other goon left behind.  She jumped on top of the Red Hood, “Now perish!” she cried out as she thrusted the blade towards the exposed part of his face. Red Hood recovered quickly and caught her hand holding the blade. As the two struggled for the knife, Lady Noire tried to swipe at him with Cataclysm again.  Suddenly, she felt the power of 50,000 volts coursing through her, as the Red Hood activated the taser hidden in his chest piece.  She powered through, running purely on anger, grief and adrenaline. She was only able to struggle for about a minute, before passing out from the pain.  Red Hood flipped Lady Noire’s unconscious body aside, before he took off his helmet to inspect the damage. "The hell?." he pondered, "So, indestructible staff that can do double duty as a shield, and the ability to disintegrate things with one touch. Let's find out who you really are."  He slowly stood up and looked down at her unconscious body. He tried to peel away her domino mask, yet it would not come off. He tugged on the mask, even to the point of lifting the unconscious girl off the ground. He released the mask, and let the body drop with a small thud.  The Red Hood began talking to himself "She either superglued the mask on or it’s something else. Considering all that she can do, I'd say 80% chance it's magic and 20% a lantern. Either way a 100% pain in my ass".  He heard a small beeping noise and gingerly lifted her hand up off the floor.  As it emitted black and green energy, he noticed that she had a ring on.  The beeping came from a small picture of a paw print, which was missing a few pads.  If she was a lantern, that ring was going to run out of charge any moment now.  He took out his phone and called the Iceberg Lounge. He requested that they send for a van to pick him up and his new guest.   He requested that the Su Sisters get her cleaned up and ready. He needed to find out who sent her and who she worked for. He took out the special handcuffs that Batman designed when dealing with metahumans. As he walked towards Lady Noire about to cuff her, he heard some more beeping, followed by a bright light surrounding her.  Her suit and mask disappeared, leaving behind a small girl in pastel pink clothes who was probably no older than 15 or 16.  Her long braid changed back into a couple of shoulder-length pigtails, and she had a pink backpack on her back.  Jason looked inside the bag, there were a few sets of clothes, a wallet and an antique Chinese jewelry box.  He wondered if that ring was just one of many tools in her arsenal.  Jason's eyes widened, he recognised her as the girl he saw a few weeks ago when the turf war in Crime Alley broke out.  "What’s she doing here?" he said to himself aloud, “ Idiot” he muttered. He remembered following the girl and her GCPD escort to make sure she boarded her flight back to Paris.  She was supposed to be with her remaining family. Yet she came back to, no, ran away to Gotham City.  All for revenge.  He checked her wallet and saw the name printed on it, he sighed, this just confirmed that she was the same girl. When she had her revenge, what would she do then?  He wasn’t the undisputed master of thinking things through, but even he thought she was a fool to come back here.  Gotham City didn’t have the best track record dealing with orphans.  He knew this from personal experience, but there was that time where many were rounded up and sent upstate to juvie, for the crime of trying to survive on the streets.  He would have been in the same position, had it not been for his own fateful encounter in Crime Alley. He shuddered to think what her other option would be in a place like Gotham City, becoming a Robin.  Part of the reason he wanted her out of Gotham was so that Bruce wouldn’t get any ideas about taking her in.  When the car arrived, he scooped up the girl in his arms and carried her towards it.  Marinette woke up with her heart beating frantically in her chest, the first thing she saw was a bright light.  She was dead, she had to be, the last thing she remembered was confronting the Red Hood and now he had killed her.  She slowly sat up, she looked down to find that someone had changed her clothes, she was wearing light blue pajamas.  She started to look around, to her left there was a large floor to ceiling window where she could see a city at night with bright twinkling lights.  On the table next to her was the Miracle box, she quickly grabbed the box and looked through it. She gave a sigh of relief when she saw that all the Miraculous she brought with her were still there.   Suddenly, Marinette heard someone clear their throat.  At the foot of the bed, stood a rather large woman who had a bundle of clothes in her hand.  Next to her was a blonde woman with pink highlights who had a tray of food. “Oh good, you’re finally awake” the large woman said gruffly, she set the clothes down on the edge of the bed.  The blonde girl set a tea tray down in front of her, along with a couple of pastries.  Marinette’s heart sank at the sight of the croissants, they reminded her of her parents and their bakery. “Eat up and get dressed, the boss wants to see you later” the blonde woman told her, before skipping to the larger woman’s side.  Just as the two were about to leave, Marinette piped up, “Um, where am I?” she asked, “Who is your boss?” “You’re in the Iceberg Lounge in Gotham City”, the large woman told her gruffly.  “The name’s Suzie, this is one of my sisters, Candy. Our boss is the owner.”  Marinette gave an awkward wave as they left, and Candy returned it with a more cheerful one.    She took a bite out of the croissant, it tasted cold and dry. However, if she was going to defeat the Red Hood, she’d need all her strength. She put Plagg’s ring back in the box and reached for Ladybug’s earrings; she needed a new tactic.  When Tikki appeared in front of her, she also quickly looked around the room before looking back at Marinette with a concerned look on her face. “I couldn’t do it,” Marinette explained “he managed to stop me and I ended up back here”. Tikki’s eyes were sympathetic as Marinette held her closer to her face, “Are you sure you still want to go through with this?” Tikki asked.  “For now, I have to get changed and go upstairs to meet the boss.  Maybe he’s the one who found me after the fight was over” Marinette theorized as she gave Tikki the cookie from the tray.  While Tikki quietly nibbled at it, Marinette stood up and walked over to the edge of the bed.  Inside the small bundle of clothes were a simple white blouse and black skirt. They were a little big, she would probably hem it if she had her sewing machine.    Moments later, a tall woman with dark hair led Marinette into the penthouse, a large room with a desk in the corner.   A tall man in a suit stood with his back towards the door, overlooking the sparkling city skyline.  She slowly stepped inside, looking around the room as she walked towards the man.  “Um hi, who are you?” Marinette asked as she apprehensively walked towards him.  She couldn’t help but feel small in that grand high-ceiling room. “I am the owner of the Iceberg Lounge,” he explained. “I guess the question I should be asking is…” he turned towards her and Marinette saw he had a domino mask over his eyes and a red half mask covering his nose and mouth, “who are you?” He threw something at her and she caught it.  She looked down and saw the Red Hood’s helmet, half of it looked as though someone tried to tear the metal open.  Then she remembered everything she had researched about the Red Hood, and the fight that took place not long after she arrived back in Gotham. “You…” she hissed. To be continued...

[r0zyp0zy0zy]

Hi!! I’m new to the Haikyuu fandom but Kageyama is my favorite so far!! Can you do numbers 20 and 24 with him please? Thank you in advance! 🧡🖤

Haikyuu!! Prompt list trial

HQ!! Prompt list

Thanks for requesting! I’m also fairly new to the Haikyuu fandom <3

The other requests are in the works, they might just take a bit longer bc I’m swamped with school stuff! Happy reading :D

Words: 2400+

Warnings: possible weight trigger?, Kags calls you heavy 😔

Pairing: Kageyama Tobio x FEM!reader

Prompt(s): 20- "I didn't mean it like that, I was trying to... tease you. That's what you do, right? When you have feelings?" & 24- "don't leave me here with her/them!"

The mind of Kageyama was mostly a mystery; his skull hollow with a few volleyballs bouncing around. He wasn't the smartest to say the least— Have you seen his report card?

So, when his heart pumped 10x faster than when he was on the court when he was around you, he only thought he wasn't feeling well that day. Next was his voice; constantly stuttering for no apparent reason when he was chatting with you. Kageyama had not a clue what was going on with him until Tanaka spoke up for him, asking how long Kageyama was going to wait before asking you out. The boy in question just wrinkled his nose and went to toss another ball to an energetic redhead.

Nishinoya and Tanaka cornered the unsuspecting setter in the club room, trapping him with their looming auras. Kageyama only stared at them quizzically for a moment before a phone was shoved in his face.

"Look, dude, check out this article!" Tanaka grinned, raising his eyebrows.

"Is it about volleyball?" Kageyama asked as he threw on his uniform.

"No—"

"—don't wanna look at it then," Kageyama interrupted his upperclassmen, grabbing his bag and hoisting it over his shoulder.

"C'mon bro!" Argued Nishinoya, blocking the door with pure physics, clinging to the frame, "we just wanna help you get with y/n! This Wiki article will save you from your lack of social awareness around her."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kageyama mumbled, glancing at the phone pointed at him. It was titled: 'How to Flirt with Girls'. Now, he wasn't necessarily considering reading it, but it was tempting. "Why d'you want me to flirt with y/n? She's my friend."

"She's your crush is what she is. Are you really too dense to realize your feelings?" Tanaka said. "Actually- yeah. You are. Here, I'll text you the link."

Later that night when Kageyama was trying to sleep, his mind wandered in circles thinking about his feelings towards you. He didn't think he had time to develop a crush, but here he was pulling up his phone to check the link his upperclassman sent him. He squinted at the bright WikiHow screen, and scrolled down to read the captions. He glanced at the first three options, not really reading (or caring) about 'don't forget to smile!' and 'don't cross your arms'.

The only title that caught his eye was 'Tease Her'. Kageyama knew how to do that; it was easy. He did it with Hinata all the time! He blushed just thinking about making you flustered, a wish that he didn't know he had until tonight. He didn't bother with reading the rest of the article, feeling confident in himself that he knew what to do. He threw his phone back onto his nightstand and cuddled into his bedsheets, grinning wildly.

Tobio didn't know what he was getting into when he asked Tanaka and Nishinoya about the skill of teasing. He had only wanted a few pointers from the 'pros', and some advice on what to do after you were charmed by him.

"Oh ho ho!" Tanaka said excitedly, waving his hands around as he ranted. "Make sure to insult her playfully, but always tell her how beautiful she is afterwards! Oh, and don't forget about the lingering touches! Girls love that stuff, trust me."

Kageyama nodded along, turning to Nishinoya, "don't forget to smile! Girls love sweet smiles~."

The raven haired boy was practically buzzing with anticipation as he waited at the table he usually ate at with you, desperate to try out his new flirting techniques. He smiled at you, something he usually did but he tried making it brighter. He felt his chest bubble when you raised your eyebrows at him, giving a cute smile in return.

You were wondering what the hell was up with Kageyama. You knew he wasn't the best at smiling, but when he flashed his teeth it was just downright creepy. You tried not to laugh as you sat beside him, pulling out your lunch to sit on the table in front of you. A huff left your lips as Tobio snatched away your bento, raising it above his head with a playful smirk.

"Kageyama-kun," you raised a brow playfully. "You want me to starve or something?"

"Just watching your weight," he replied, grin still plastered on his face.

You deadpanned at him, giving him a scowl, "don't say stuff like that, it makes me feel like shit."

"You're still p-pr-er, P-p-pretty in my eyes," your friend stammered, his stance wavering. You lazily tried to grab your lunch back, but Tobio's long arms kept it out of your reach.

You sighed, giving him a teasing grin before reaching out and tickling his armpit. He choked out a laugh and your bento fell out of his hand, and you caught it. Kageyama gave you a frustrated pout and watched as you ate your food.

"Serves you right for calling me fat," you said through a mouthful, cringing at your manners, "that wasn't very nice."

"You're only heavy because of your muscle," Kageyama said, propping a fist on his cheek, "you'd be good at serving." You looked at him quizzically, trying to figure out what was up with him today.

"Y-your clothes look cool today," Tobio offered, trying to keep up with his 'flirtatious' act.

"... dude I literally wear the same thing every day. Y'know, my uniform," now you were really confused. Was he messing with you? Or was he just being his usual weird self?

A blush creeped onto his face and he looked away, burring his face in his own lunch. You ate in an odd silence, occasionally catching Kageyama taking glances at you.

"Y-you're, erm, very..." Tobio trailed off, refusing to look at you. His face was red with embarrassment and he stared at his empty lunchbox, tapping his fingers on the table rhythmically.

"Go on~," you pressed, glaring holes in his head.

Kageyama perked up suddenly, putting an arm around your shoulders, "you look heavy, let me hold it for you. Wait—."

"Ok, dude. What's up with you?!" You were getting pissed now, and you quickly packed up your bento. "I'm going to my class early."

Before he could stop you, you peeled his arm from your body and sped walked away into a bathroom. Kageyama blushed in frustration, cursing at his stupid twisted tongue. He couldn't believe he messed up the simplest pick up line, the one that Nishinoya had taught him. Maybe Tsukishima was right, he was going to scare you off before he could make a proper move. He groaned angrily into his hands and shoved his lunch container into his bag, huffing down the hall to get to his class.

You sunk down into your seat, trying not to let the interaction with Kageyama rule your mind. Was was up with him today? You thought. He was usually odd, but not this odd. You laid out your things in front of you and organized them to distract yourself. You slightly jumped at the sound of the first bell, and you heard the hallway outside start to get louder with footsteps and laughing chatter.

"Hi y/n-san!" Yamaguchi said, and you looked up at him.

"Hey," you mumbled.

"What's got you all grouchy?" Tsukishima chuckled as he sat by his desk beside yours.

"I'm sorry," you sighed, "Kageyama-kun was just being a dick during lunch."

"What'd he do?" Yamaguchi asked, sitting in his seat behind you. He gathered his notebook and pencil case.

"He was being really weird. Er, weirder than normal," you started. "He tried holding me back from my lunch and he basically called me fat. But then he said I was heavy because I had so much muscle? Which doesn't even make sense, and then he said I'd be good at setting which is— I mean ok?"

Tsukishima snickered from beside you as he opened his binder, and Yamaguchi blushed a little at his teammate's actions.

"And then he told me that my clothes looked nice. My uniform clothes, that I wear every day," you puzzled almost to yourself, forgetting that your friends were listening to your rant. "Oh, he also said like, I dunno, a pickup line or something? He said that 'I looked heavy and he wanted to hold 'it'' whatever the hell he was supposed to mean by that."

Tsukki had to shove a hand over his mouth to keep himself from combusting into boisterous laughter, Yamaguchi doing the same. You frowned and rolled your eyes, turning to look at the board as the second bell rang.

"The idiot's got a crush on you," Tsukishima spilled, chest shaking from the aftershocks of his laughter.

"W-wha—," you started.

"—Tsukki!" Yamaguchi interrupted. "You told me that you weren't gonna mess with Kageyama-kun's relationships!"

Tsukishima just shrugged before turning to the board, your eyes bulging at him. "He fucking what—."

"I know!" Tsukishima smirked, "I didn't think he had any emotion for anything but volleyball."

You opened your mouth to reply, but got cut off by your teacher. You frowned as you set up your notes, messily writing your name and the date. Kageyama's actions now made sense to you, knowing how awkward he is in expressing his feelings.

After class as you walked down the hall, Tsukishima sported a sly grin. You eyed him quizzically, not trusting the look in his eyes. He smirked harder at your glance and chuckled.

"I have a plan," the blonde said, pushing up his glasses. "I'm gonna shove Kageyama in the equipment room with you."

"And so I get a say in this at all?" You pressed, glaring playfully at him.

"Well, what do you say?" He asked.

"I say yes," you said, Yamaguchi facepalming at your response.

You followed the two boys down to the gym where they practiced, and waited by the door until Yamaguchi gave you the clear that no one was there yet except for the third years. Tsukishima led you to the double doors of the equipment room and you took a step inside the dark room, turning on your flashlight.

"If you hear an even three knocks, open the door immediately," you ordered, shaking slightly. "Incase he does something... weird," you faltered slightly, and Yamaguchi nodded quickly.

"Whatever," the tall blonde in front of you said, "just get in before he comes in the gym— oh, he's here."

The door was closed suddenly, and you were left alone with only your phone flashlight to protect you. You took a deep breath as you heard voices outside the heavy doors, trying to regulate your heartbeat. What were you doing? What was your plan after he gets trapped inside? The doors opened and filled the room with light for a brief moment before the space was consumed in darkness once again.

"Hey!" You heard Kageyama yell beside you, pounding on the door, "what the hell?!"

You laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and he whipped around to slap you away, faltering when he realized it was you. His eyes widened and he was glad you couldn't see the blush that flourished on his face. Kageyama was silent for a few moments before hammering at the door again.

"Guys! Don't leave me here with her!" He panicked when you pulled his hands away from the doors, and he went quiet.

"Calm down, Kageyama-kun," you stifled a giggle. "You're only here so you can apologize to me."

"W-what?" He stuttered, body going stiff.

"Just say sorry for offending me," you shrugged. His eyes were glued to the floor, hands still trapped by your grip.

"I- I thought... I didn't mean it like that, I was trying to... tease you. That's what you do, right? When you have feelings?" Kageyama's blush crawled across his whole face all the way to the tips of his ears and he squeezed his eyes shut, terrified of what your next words were going to be.

"So you do have a crush on me," you pondered, loosening your hold on his wrists. The boy in front of you snapped his hands to his sides and anxiously squeezed his fists.

"How...?" Kageyama held his breath, as if afraid of your answer.

"Hmm, a little birdie told me~," you teased, running a finger down his chest. His breath hitched in his throat and a shiver ran down his spine when he felt your hot breath whisper onto his ear, "I'm still waiting for your apology."

"I'm s-sor-sorry for what I s-said at lunch today..." Kageyama stammered, rubbing his arm awkwardly.

"I accept your apology!" You smiled and went in for a hug, crushing his arms to his sides. "Meet me after practice near the vending machines~," you murmured playfully.

"—what are you guys doing?!" Daichi's muffled yell came through the door. "You can't just trap people in there!"

Kageyama tensed and he tried to pull away, but you held him closer. The bright light from the gym poured into the small room, illuminating all of the equipment and yourselves.

"Are you oka— oh," Daichi cut himself off, eyes widening at the sight of a girl hugging his underclassman. You peaked at him over Kageyama's shoulder and gave a shy smile, pulling away slowly.

"Bye, Tobio-chan," you adjusted your bag and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "See you after your practice."

The group of boys watched in silence as you skipped your way out the gym door, too shocked to say anything. Kageyama's face grew hotter and he reached up to touch where you kissed him. He felt like he was going to pass out.

"Kageyamaaaaa!!" Hinata yelled, shaking his friend viciously, "was that your girlfriend?! Why didn't you tell us you had one?! She's so pretty! Why does she even like you?!"

"Chill out Hinata-kun," Daichi said sternly, pulling the redhead away by the back of his shirt. "Kageyama-kun, be ready for practice in five."

Tobio nodded slowly, his hand still on his cheek in bewilderment. He was too excited to tell Hinata off, completely blocking out his friend. He couldn't wait for practice to end.