#this is a Very Old Prompt but better late than never

[paperyowl]

Heeeey! Jealous Rockon request .

Rocker is waiting for Deacon somewhere and when he walks in, he sees Rocker's ex/old fwb/whatever (not Val) being too friendly.

Deacon had no idea he was the jealous type

Hiii, and thank you for that prompt! We need more jealous!Deacon in this world. Not sure if this is what you had in mind with the prompt, but it's where my mind took it:

+++

"Hi, sweetheart."

Deacon placed a rather possessive hand on Rocker's hip when he greeted him with a kiss pressed to his cheek. That one was new. The petname, the kind of greeting that left no room to doubt who he was to Rocker. A romantic partner.

Wasn't that a refreshing thing? Deacon wasn't the kind to openly preen, but he kind of wanted to every time he thought about Rocker - with those clever eyes and the sweet arch of his lower spine - like that now. Committed. Out in the open. His.

His fingers flexed on Rocker's hip. Deacon hadn't even made the conscious decision to move in like that, but it had felt deeply necessary in this moment. They weren't alone at the bar.

Deacon had been running just a little late to meet Rocker here. It had been easy to spot Rocker even in the slightly crowded space. The smile that he could never quite keep off his face around Rocker had slipped when he'd seen Rocker laughing openly at something the tall blonde by his side said. Even while the walk over to the bar had been a bit of a blur, Deacon had never lost focus on Rocker - or the other man who kept touching his arm.

Rocker's confusion at Deacon's attitude was obvious - but he didn't pull away. That soothed at least a bit of the low, simmering embers that tingled all the way to Deacon's fingertips, twitching in an urge to punch something. He didn't know himself to have such a short fuse.

"Who's your friend?" Deacon asked, managing a friendly enough tone. He could feel Rocker shift into him, probably subconsciously reacting to that edge he doesn't quite mean to temper. It worked a little, at least until the man with the worn-out print on his shirt spoke.

"Ah, this is Andy, he is-"

"An old college buddy of Don's. Nice to meet you. You are?"

The frown on Rocker's face cued Deacon in that he had very much been a little more than that. Andy had called him Don, but he couldn't even admit to how close they'd been. A college buddy. Right. How dare he. But Deacon knew just how to rectify that.

"Deacon. I'm Donovan's boyfriend."

An emotion very much like shock passed over Andy's face - and Rocker turned his head towards Deacon just enough to show off a rather more private kind of smile. He looked so pleased.

The arm that Rocker sneaked around Deacon's waist a moment later, as well as the obvious motion of his fingers slipping just under the hem of Deacon's shirt, drew Andy's attention. He took a beat too long to realize he was staring before he corrected it. Good.

"So he's the one who's got you all sappy?" Andy asked a little cruelly, which Deacon was about to point out, but Rocker beat him to the punch by making a comment that had Andy turn an interesting shade of red. Deacon rather thought it suited him well to be embarrassed about his lack of skill in pleasing his partners.

Deacon wasn't proud to realize that Rocker's comment made him feel something very like schadenfreude. But a part of him felt calmer at seeing how easily Rocker blew this guy off and how little he seemed willing to step out of Deacon's space.

Rocker softened the blow with a few more words, wishing Andy well and sending his greetings to Andy's mother, of all people. Never mind softening anything. There was a whole story there that Deacon kind of wanted to know.

"Well, I'll be going," Andy finally said, daring to flash Rocker another of those grins. Deacon might have to punch him after all. "If you-"

"I won't. Thank you," Rocker spoke in the same kind of voice he used with every condescending asshole he encountered on scenes. Which weren't a lot, because most people had better sense than that, but still.

Deacon watched Andy go without even attempting to say goodbye to him. It was just as well. He was far more interested in the very amused man who had somehow ended up between him and the bar. Maybe Deacon was being a bit too obvious.

"Hi," Rocker said under his breath, stealing a chaste kiss. "Not that I'm complaining, but the bartender is starting to give us the stink eye. I'm about ready to get out of here if you are?"

Deacon was very much on board with that idea - he wasn't much interested in having drinks here anymore. For a brief moment, his eyes ticked across the gathering crowd, trying to spot Andy again. But Rocker managed rather well to drag his attention away - those jeans were sinful on his body, and Deacon very much had to force himself not to look for too long.

It was a short drive back to Rocker's place. Their place. Deacon's head tended to stumble over that one still, and the space reflected the newness of all this: It was still very much a mess with Deacon's possessions still finding their places. Most of the random duplicates had found their way to the boxes Rocker had placed in at least somewhat out-of-the-way corners. They really needed to make that trip to Goodwill.

"He was my ex," Rocker offered when he followed Deacon into the kitchen. "But I'm guessing you had that one figured out."

He grabbed a glass and filled it with water, more to have something to do than because he was actually thirsty. A little nod was all Deacon offered in return to Rocker's comment. He sipped on his water.

But Rocker added nothing else, and when Deacon looked at him again, Rocker had cocked one hip against the kitchen counter. He crossed his arms over his chest in a lazy gesture that made all those muscles pop. Forget the jeans - why was that man wearing a shirt that was at least a size too small? That grin on Rocker's face was very knowing.

"You're cute when you're jealous." Rocker said, still so very amused. "But there's no need, you know. It's been a long time ago-"

He trailed off when Deacon put the glass down with force and advanced on him. Between one moment and the next, he pushed Rocker against the counter and stepped in between his legs. There was a theme to this day - and it was very much Deacon caging Rocker against solid surfaces. This led to a few interesting thoughts about where this could lead.

Rocker raised an eyebrow at him. But he did nothing to stop him. He even spread his legs a little more, tilting a head in faux-curiosity.

"There's every need," Deacon told him. "Did you not see how many of the men here are looking at you?"

Cheeky thing that he was, Rocker trailed his fingers along Deacon's jawline before he cupped the side of his neck. "Only got eyes for you, sweetheart."

Deacon dove in for a kiss almost before Rocker had stopped speaking - and Rocker met him in the middle. A moan got caught somewhere between their lips, and Deacon wasn't sure which of them was making these little pleased noises. They were almost crashing into each other, and Deacon wasn't sure if he had it in him to be more gentle right now.

But Rocker didn't seem to mind at all - his hands when straight to the back of Deacon's shirt, untucking it with practised ease and only faltering when Deacon grabbed onto the back of his thighs to lift him up. That move at least broke them apart for a beat, giving them a moment to pause in devouring each other.

"Ooooh," Rocker cheered in a rather husky tone when he ended up sitting on the counter, fingers hooking into Deacon's belt loops. "Gonna manhandle me? I'm into it."

Deacon huffed a little laugh, cupping the back of Rocker's head to make him tilt his face down until they were sharing the same space. Rocker allowed it, those clear eyes focused entirely on Deacon. As they should be.

"I'm not jealous," Deacon told him, surprised at how low his own voice dropped. "But you're mine now. And what's mine is mine."

He felt Rocker shudder right before his arms looped around Deacon's neck, dragging him in, kissing him with the kind of force that made clear just how into this Rocker was. Deacon started to have the sneaking suspicion that Rocker was into him, whatever the circumstances were - and the feeling was very, very mutual.

[benevolenterrancy]

@tuttle-4077 *Scooby Doo theme plays in the background*

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Johnny Lawrence’s daughter

Johnny Lawrence x daughter!reader

warnings: alcohol, underage drinking, classic johnny sexism <3

a/n: WHAT! ME write a fic thats not gn, i know. im shocked too but its just bc i feel johnny is so gender-stereotypey that doing this gn wouldn’t work very well but very open to a son!r or nb!r if anyone is interested (bc seriously. johnny cannot help but bring up genders). also i just want to say that a lot of this (not all!) honestly reminds me of or are actual things that have happened w my dad bc johnny is literally my dad if my dad was like 8 years older i think also i wrote this all in one sitting ALSO NO COBRA KAI SEASON 6 SPOILERS

prompt:

GIRL DAD!

you always kinda just gravitated toward living with your dad

“y/n, i’m so proud of you. i never have to worry about you. you can take care of yourself. robby on the other hand, i worry about him. i think girls are just more self sufficient” -johnny, a little drunk

“thanks dad” -you, also a little drunk (hes a “cool dad”)

he was the type of parent that “prefers that if you’re gonna do something stupid at least do it while he’s around” aka underage drinking

whenever he stays out late you fall asleep in his bed. and lock him out

“y/n! open the door!” -johnny, banging on the door

“no! your bed is more comfortable” -you

he thought it was sweet honestly but he did want to sleep in his bed

sort of like a lesson not to come home late all drunk and gross

he was VERY against letting you drive his car

“dad, i need my license!” -you

“no woman is getting behind the wheel of my firebird” -johnny

“why do you have to make it about women? i’ll fight you” -you

“you’ll lose that fight” -johnny

“oh, so you’d fight a teenage girl? wow, real classy, dad” -you

“no, but i’d fight my teenage daughter. i brought you into this world and i’ll take you out” -johnny

you honestly had a great sense of humor with johnny, but you’d check him if he said anything too messed up

“dad, it’s not the 80’s anymore, you can’t say that” -you

“dont tell me what i can and cant say! the 80’s were awesome, i wish it was the 80’s again” -johnny

“so i’ve heard” -you

he helped you with your homework as a kid until like, 2nd grade when multiplication and division got involved

he did teach you karate growing up! but mostly the basics, for self defense purposes

“hey, never let any guy try to impress you with his karate skills. he’s probably a douche” -johnny, pausing “i sure was”

late night movie marathons (70s/80s classics for sure)

he took care of you during your first hangover (high school parties, ya know)

“didn’t i teach you better than to mix liquors” -johnny

“ugghhhh” -you

yes, you have heard about daniel larusso. enough said LMAO

robby and you had a kind of sweet but distant relationship

occasional check-in texts

robby: are you doing okay with dad? he’s actually buying food and shit?

you: yeah! he’s fine right now, how’s mom? new stepdad yet? is he rich?

robby: mom’s not going anywhere she’d find a rich guy, but keep dreaming

you wear a lot of your dad’s old t-shirts. usually band tee’s

oh and he made sure you got into the “right music”

he used to drive you around in the firebird when you were a SMALL CHILD (front seat, no car seat!) and blast his old cassettes

for YEARS he’d pull the “who is this” “what song is this” game with the reasoning:

“if you wear a band shirt and some asshole asks you to name three songs, i want you to name ten” -johnny

listen. you were still “daddy’s girl” or whatever used to be a cute little saying and is now ruined but whatever

“dad, can i have twenty bucks?” -you

“for what” -johnny

“for fun. pleaseeee” -you

*johnny pulls out his wallet and gives you $40*

could he afford it? no. can he say no? also no.

the absolute fear he felt when you got your first period

“it’s fine, i can call mom” -you

“no, it’s not fine! i’ve had girlfriends before, i got this. stay here, i’ll be back” -johnny

he went to the store and bought the most random assortment of period products and pain meds and snacks and a heating pad

A for effort

when the diaz family moved in across from you guys, miguel took one look at you and johnny said:

“stay away from my daughter”

when the karate fuss got started you tried to keep your distance but sooner or later you joined the dojo and proved to your dad just how “badass” you could be

“take notes everyone, y/n’s gonna be the next all valley champ!” -johnny

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @retvenkos // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @an4aaa // @summersimmerus // @xoxobabydolls // @sapphireplums // @petersgroupie // @ravenhood2792 // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @elenavampire21 // @elemental-of-magic //

[johnwickb1tsch]

Everyone is sending GIF requests, so, here is mine. Hint: Jealous John? (Though I doubt this man can ever be jealous but...whatever comes to your genius brain)

Thanks!

@sweetwolfcupcake SWEEETS!!!!! I loved this prompt SO MUCH!!! You're such a genius. *kisses your head* I hope you like this! 💗💗💗

Bodyguard!John Wick x Shy!Curvy!Fem!Student!Reader

⚠warnings: threat of noncon (not John), mention of parental death

For the record, you didn’t mean to fall in love with John Wick. But he was nothing like the other goons your father had tasked with guarding you before.  Wick was tall, and handsome, and had the soulful eyes of a poet. You know he’s dangerous; he can kill a man 30 ways with a pencil (the men of your father’s Bratva will not shut up about it) but he seems so…gentle. And the thing that really proved your undoing?

That good looking bastard was bookish, and it did something inconceivable to your lit major brain. Ever your dark shadow, you spent countless late nights in the library together, and so many Saturday afternoons browsing the used bookshops, combing for treasures. He would rescue the books that looked better fit for the waste bin, taking them to repair. Maybe he was there to protect you, for your father had many unsavory enemies, but it was easy to forget when John discussed with you the finer points of the Bloomsbury Set or the themes of Anna Karenina.  

Maybe your father assigned John to you because he was one of the few gangsters around in his brigata one could trust to guard a relatively innocent young lady–that didn’t mean John was safe from you. You just couldn’t help yourself; you’d like to plead insanity, your honor, the night you finally broke and tried to kiss him, while he was helping you with your homework for Russian Lit 301. 

How stupid you felt, how utterly pathetic, when he’d very kindly dislodged you from his so soft mouth, looking at you with pity in his sad dark eyes. “You know…we can’t do this,” he told you.

Mortified, you’d fled to your room and cried, knowing you are the most ridiculous human being on the face of the earth.

What were you thinking?

You are nothing like the tall, ethereal creatures that populate the clubs where Wick frequents with your father. You are shy, and curvy, and frankly…a nerd. An old soul, your father would say fondly, but you know he is just being kind.

You’re not sure how you got it into your head, that you were going to make Wick sorry. You’ve never been one for going out, but you decide to give it a whirl, wanting to be anyone but yourself. You decide to go to the Red Circle, to hang out with the other Bratva brats who care way more about clubbing and clothes and who’s fucking who, than classes at NYU. 

At first you really hate it–but after a few shots of vodka, it’s not so bad. John has to hang back, keeping an eye on you but not interacting with your friends. He’s scary good at lurking in the shadows, but you know he’s keeping an eye on every move you make. Maybe that’s why you let Alexsei kiss you, the son of a semi-friendly loan shark who works in proximity with your father. You don’t really like him, if you’re being honest. But he’s not totally hideous–and he’s there–and John will have to watch it all. 

You and Alex start to have a thing. It’s no big deal. Something to do, on the summer break from your studies. You invite him over to watch a movie, knowing you’ll have the house to yourself. Your father is always at his office doing business, your idiotic brother is always out getting into trouble with his khuligan friends, and your mother…is dead, God rest her poor soul. 

You can tell Alex is a little drunk, when he shows up at your door. He’s very handsy, when you settle in on the couch to watch the latest mindless action flick, his pick. It’s ok, until he tries to unbutton your pants.

You have a secret. 

You’re 21, nearly graduated from university–and you’re still a virgin. 

This is not a thing you intend to give to Alexsei Plushenko. You don’t even really like the way he touches you.

“Stop, Alex.”

“Don’t be scared,” he tries to coax you. “This will be fun.”

“No,” you say. “Let’s just…”

He covers your mouth with his, shutting you up, his heavy body pinning you on the couch. “Don’t be such a stuck up bitch.” His groping fingers squeeze your breast clumsily, painfully, before fumbling with your jeans again. You try to push him off, but he’s heavy, and strong.

Suddenly, he is yanked from you like he weighs nothing at all. You hardly recognize what is happening at first, until you hear the sound of flesh striking flesh. John is on him, his iron fist meeting the younger man’s face. 

“John! Stop!” 

Wick looks up at you, meeting your eyes in a primal lock of stares–your heart drops and soars again, as you feel as though you’ve stumbled on a wolf over his kill, and the wildest thing?

You get the inkling that wolf is jealous. 

“Don’t hurt him anymore,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. A beating will make some complications for your father. A death? Could mean war.

Wick punches the handsy young man one more time, his eyes never leaving yours, before hauling Alex up by the collar and frog marching him out the front door, tossing him down the concrete steps of your home.

John finds you waiting for him in the marble foyer, his eyes wild, his knuckles torn. You don’t even know what to say. 

“What did you even see in him?” he finally demands, clearly annoyed.

“He wasn’t you,” you answer without thinking.

Wick steps up to you, toe to toe, so that you have to crane your neck to meet his eyes. His hair has broken free from its slicked back style, tendrils in his eyes.

He’s never looked more beautiful, your savage savior.

“You’re trying to get me killed.”

You shake your head, the very thought anathema to you. You are transfixed, unable to look away, unable to think. “You’re too precious to me,” you admit, and screw your eyes shut the moment you admit it, a spear of mortification piercing you from your heart to your stupid, aching, cunt.

“Milaya…” 

It’s the sweetest thing he’s ever said to you.

Your eyes drop to his knuckles, torn open in his defense of you. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Not to me.” You don’t know where you get the courage, to take his hand, and lead him up to your room. You can hardly believe it, that he actually follows you. In your ensuite bathroom you dab at his knuckles with a washcloth, slather him with ointment and plaster him with bandaids. You run out of sober flesh colored ones, so the last cut gets a Disney bandage, Ariel and sea-flowers decorating this severe man’s knuckles. 

He lets you do all this, watching you intensely with those dark eyes you’re certain can see into your soul. You stand too close–and he lets you, this haunted man who watches over you day and night. Your whole life you have never wanted for anything, your father’s money buying you all your heart could possibly desire.

Until now.

You find it hard to meet his eyes, zeroing in on a spot of blood on his stark white dress shirt. 

“Y/n.” With a gentle knuckle under your chin he turns your gaze up to his again. “You are too smart, and too beautiful, to be wasting your time with a fuckboy like Alexsei Plushenko.”

The first part you already knew. The second, from this man’s lips? Your knees nearly collapse out from under you, a flood of excitement and dread coursing through your system. You almost can’t stand it–it’s like being burned alive, and your native shyness rears with a vengeance. 

You try to flee, back to the safety of your room, and your books, your imaginary lives that can’t really hurt you–but he catches your hand. His grip is not hard, but it is enough to stop you dead in your tracks. 

“Y/n…” He’s pleading with you, but you don’t understand what he’s asking you. 

“You said you don’t want me, John…” you say, still unable to meet his eyes. “So let me go.” 

He answers by pulling you against him, the solid line of his torso a brick wall beneath the hand you raise to catch yourself. But bricks are not warm, like the flesh beneath his designer clothes. You can feel the wires in your brain sizzling, the synapses simply melting down. Your heart is Chernoble waiting to happen. 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“You said–”

“I said, ‘We can’t.’ Not, that ‘I don’t want you.’”

You almost cannot breathe, your heart attempting to beat out of your chest, a ringing in your ears that drowns out all else. There is nothing, nothing, in this world you’ve wanted more, than to hear those words from this man. But now that he’s standing before you, against you, holding you–you cannot move. You do not know what to do. 

He solves this problem by cupping your cheek in his big hand–God, how you’ve noticed those hands–and then he is pressing his mouth to yours, gentle at first, but then…hungry. As though John Wick has been starving, for you, and it’s all you can do just to stand there and take it without melting into a puddle on the floor. His arms wrap around your back, holding you, lifting you to your tiptoes as he devours you. When at last he pulls back you are left seeing stars, struck utterly speechless with your hands on his broad shoulders. 

“Tell me to stop,” he raggedly demands, his eyes boring down into yours. 

Finally, you find your courage, meeting his stare. “I don’t want you to stop,” you whisper. 

“Good. Because I don’t think I can.” He kisses you again, just as hungrily as the first time, his arm an iron band around your waist and his fingers sneaking up into your hair. That’s your kryptonite: your hair, and blithely you know he can do anything and everything he wants to you now.  

Your father is a bad man, but you have not had a bad life. You have never known hunger, or true physical pain. He has protected you from the violence of his world. He has played things smart enough that not even the FBI can touch you, even though they absolutely know what he is and where your family gets its money. Despite all this, you have been dying inside, a slow, withering demise, until John Wick’s lips touched yours. He is the life-giving rain over the desert; your heart is a field of wildflowers erupting in a superbloom. 

This time, he leads you, in between kissing you, to the loveseat at the foot of your bed. He sits, and only when he tries to pull you into his lap do you resist. “John…I’m too…much,” you insist, conscious of your generous flesh and what it would be like to set that on top of him, afraid he’ll be horrified. 

However, he just scoffs at you, grabbing you up anyway and guiding you down. For a moment you are weightless–he knows how to upset a person’s balance, how to use their weight against them to put them on the floor. This time he uses it to put you on him. You’re not exactly proud of it, but the ease with which he utterly manhandles you makes your long-neglected lady parts sing with desire. 

“You are perfect, dietka,” he insists, pulling you closer with hands on your round behind, “And I am very strong.” For the first time in you can’t remember how long–he smiles at you. That beautiful half smile with a sparkle in his dark eyes that takes your breath away–you love him so much it hurts. 

This time you don’t feel so shy, about kissing him. You feel like your bones are filled with butterflies, and you both moan and giggle as you do your best to devour each other from the mouth down. Aside from an appreciative squeeze of your thighs bracketing his hips, he doesn’t try to seduce you, even though you know you absolutely would have given him anything he asked you for. He is content, just to kiss you, for this night at least, and oh. He’s good at it too. 

You decide you would burn down the world, for one more kiss from John Wick.  

Later you find yourself snuggled in your bed with John, fully clothed, your head on his shoulder as he toys with the fine hairs at the back of your neck. His touch is heaven, and with your legs twined with his it’s hard not to squirm and writhe against his muscled thigh like a horny little gremlin. 

Later, you tell yourself. It can wait for later. 

Like maybe, tomorrow. 

“We’ll have to be careful,” he warns you. “If your father…” 

If your father found out, the best thing that could happen to John is getting fired. 

“I won’t let you get hurt,” you promise, kissing his bearded cheek, praying you’re telling the truth.

He chuckles at this; a deep sound you feel more than hear. “I thought that was my job?”

“You know what I mean.” 

“I know.” He looks down at you with a tenderness that curls your toes. “It would be worth it, for you.” 

Your heart has suddenly decided it would like to take up residence in your throat–permanently.

“Oh, John…”  

He kisses you again, a soft brush of lips that renders you weightless. This is how you die: it’s almost too much to stand, this impossibly full feeling in your chest. Then he narrows his eyes at you playfully. “You have been driving me mad, you little minx. I wanted to kill everyone who so much as looked at you in the Circle.” 

You snort at the thought–you do not understand, really, that he could absolutely do it too. 

“Not to worry. I think the library is more my speed.” He rests his head against yours with a small, contented sigh. “Mine too,” he admits. The smell of old books around you is a soothing balm to you both. 

You know small bits of his past. Morsels he has sprinkled, here and there in the conversations you have had. You know he did not have an easy childhood. You know that this life was not really his choice. Even less so than most, who move and work in the Underworld. 

“If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?” you ask. 

He lifts an eyebrow at you. “I’m liking New York, at the moment,” he tells you with an affectionate squeeze. 

“Oh come on.” 

“Fine. I like Paris a lot.” 

“Hmm,” you answer, but what you think, is: Done.  You will have the opportunity to arrange to study abroad soon, and you think a trip away from the Tarasov territory might do you both some good.

Surely Papachka wouldn’t deprive you of your most trusted bodyguard?

[nightingale-prompts]

Kiss of Death- DCxDP prompt

A valentine horror.

Didn't matter why you were there or why you didn't run.

There was a graveyard older than Gotham itself. The names on the grave are weathered and unreadable from hundreds of years of exposure. The only reason one should come here was if you had managed to track your heritage to this gravesight after searching museum archives for burial records since the city wouldn't keep ones so old in the government building.

Unless...

You came because of the legend.

It's a new one. So it's more of an urban legend.

The story goes that the graveyard is haunted and a that anyone who comes here late at night will die. It's a simple legend, a very cliche and uncreative one at that.

But here you are. What was your goal? Ghost hunting? Graverobbing? Or perhaps your curiosity had consumed you and you had to know.

The air was thick. Like you are slowly choking on the darkness around you. Have you ever been in a room so quiet it was deafening? Like you are sure you must have lost your hearing because not even the wind would greet your ears. It was just empty space that wordlessly told you that you are alone. But that was just a room. A room that you leave and find solace in a trip of a light switch. This however was no room. It was the wide expanse of the outside world. In a place where streetlamps were not even a flicker in the minds of the residents that rest deep below your feet.

You chose a bad time to come. Perhaps you would be spared the wondering in the dark if you had the forgiving light of the moon on you. But such things were an afterthought, wasn't it? No tonight the moon was shadowed and the light of the stars would be your only salvation...but this was still Gotham. Could their light even reach you with the distant city lights over the horizon? Could the clouds mercifully move out of the way to give you some hope that you were not abandoned?

Now you were ill-prepared but you must have had some sense to at least charge your phone before you came. It's flashlight might be enough to get you back. But you're come this far. Brave or foolish you continue forward.

Until someone approached. You couldn't see them, only hear the muted footfalls of something coming near. Your ears so starved for sensation drank it like water in a dessert.

And in the light of your torch, a face appeared. A pair of baby blue eyes simmered in the light. A relieved smile on a pair of soft pale pink lips. A young man with tousled black locks appearing holding a small arm full of lilies and tulips.

"Finally, someone else. I thought I'd be here till morning." He said in relief as he came closer.

"What are you doing here?" You ask surprised that you weren't the only person here.

"I was cleaning the graves here and I must have lost track of time. Can you lead me out of here?" He asked softly and you'd hit yourself if you said no.

He clung to your arm as you walked him down the path.

The air began to get colder.

Where there was once silence you hearabout d the sound of crows beating their wings and making their wretched calls.

He clung harder to you.

That horrible curiosity got the better of you and so you began to speak.

"Why were you out here cleaning graves anyways." You asked.

"I was...helping. I come here alot." He said simply.

Nevermind the fact he was not dressed in clothes fit for cleaning. His white button-up shirt and dress pants were not something you get dirty. In fact, he didn't have a fleck of dirt on him.

"Where are your supplies?" You ask.

"I left them behind. I'll come back for them." He said curtly.

His grip on your arm tightened and it got colder.

"Just stay close please. I don't want to lose you in this darkness." He cooed.

You begin to feel lightheaded. The cold damp air made it hard to breathe.

You hear the crows...no ravens call out again.

"Never leave!" They repeated

"Trapped!" They called.

You hear a growl come from those pink lips, only they weren't pink anymore.

You look down at your companion and see a pair of bloody lips and a smile curled into a cruel but somehow sweet smile. A pair of glowing acidic green eyes that narrowed into pinpricks like a bird locking onto its prey. His once soft ebony lock now as stark white as snow caps.

You try to pull away but their grasp crushed your arm, hands like icy claws dug in.

" Where are you going?" He asked calm his eyes baring into yours.

Suddenly he did look very scary. No, he looked...so sad...so helpless and lost. His eyes where so warm and inviting.

"Don't leave me here. Help me. I promise I'll make it worth your while." His smile was so warm and inviting.

"Leave!" The ravens screeched.

"Run!" They called.

Even the screaming of the birds where drowned out as he pressed his lips to yours. It was too late. The sickly sweet scent of death and flowers filled your senses.

Why though, was his lips so cold? Why did they fill his mouth with the coppery taste of blood? Why did you feel so empty in the space you had hoped he'd fill in your heart?

But then a sharp pain struck your head and the warm trickle of blood flowed from your wound as a bird flew over your head.

You pulled away from the cloying embraces you perked in pain. And then you saw it. His face half half-rotted and skeletal. The once handsome man was a monster.

You sprinted away from him trying to frantically call someone for help on your phone. But foolish one had you forgotten. Your phone is also your flashlight and as you tried to use it you could only run blindly in the dark hoping you were still on the path. The sound of wind slicked the air behind you as you felt his icy breath on the back of your neck. You could only guess what was behind you as you heard no footsteps behind you only the feeling of being chased.

You dared not stop not even a moment and prayed that you didn't stumble. But mercy had found you as you saw the gate come into view and the solitary streetlight just beyond the boarder.

"You said you'd get me out! You can't leave me here!" A bloodcurdling screech rang out.

But you had already won as you made it out just barely with the graze of clawed fingertips at the back of your neck.

You closed the gate behind you and as you gazed into the dark abyss beyond the metal barrier you half expected it to be there. For it to snarl at you in anger watching you leave or slamming itself at the gate. But there was nothing. Not even the wind.

[the-badger-mole]

Clouds, Fog and Mists

The scholars and archeologists that Aang had been working with had come out of their museum basements and dimly lit studies with a wealth of Air Nomad histories and artifacts that had been lost during the war. Aang now had access to recipes he hadn't tasted in years, scrolls that gave historical context to the things he had just begun learning at age 12, and objects he had never seen, but was excited to learn the use of. At 22, he was just now learning that the Air Nomads had a variety of subcultures and customs he'd never encountered, even though he had visited every Air Temple that existed back then.

"Did you know..." became as common to his vocabulary as "hello" and "custard tart". Every day, he approached his wife with some new bit of lore he'd learned.

"Did you know that the Southern Air Nomads had a Festival of Remembrance?" he'd excitedly asked as Katara was hanging the laundry out to try. She was only half listening while she tried to keep Bumi, their nearly three year old son out of the basket of wet sheets, but she gave a polite hum of encouragement.

"For a whole week," Aang continued needing no further prompting, "no one was allowed to play music or speak. They even wore velvet over their feet so their footsteps wouldn't be too loud. Then, at the end of it, there was a huge party! Loud as anything with music and plays and games. I think I remember going one of those ending parties, but I didn't know about the vow of silence before it."

"That's fascinating, sweetie," Katara said, rubbing her heavy belly with a look of discomfort. She was seven months along with their second child, and this one was very active. "Bumi, last warning. Do not touch the clean clothes!"

"Okay, Mommy!" Bumi said before swatting at one of the sheets Katara had hung on the line. She sighed and turned to her husband.

"Can you take him?" she asked. "I'm tired, and I'd like to take a nap after I finish this."

"Oh," Aang said reluctantly. "I was going to have an afternoon session with the Acolytes. I'm dying to tell them what I've been learning."

"Aang, please?" Katara sagged tiredly, taking Bumi's hand and pulling him away from all her hard work.

"Alright," Aang sighed. "I'll watch him for a bit. Come on, Bumi! Let's go practice some air katas! I want you to be ready when your airbending kicks in!"

-:-:-:-:-:-

All Air Nomads were airbenders. That's what Aang had always been taught. He had to account for late bloomers, of course, but at age four, going on five, if Bumi was going to be an airbender, there would've been signs by now. Kya was a lost cause. She had started waterbending just before her second birthday, and despite the fact that her father was the Avatar, there was no chance that she would inherit the ability to control more than one element.

"Well, maybe it's not true that all Air Nomads were benders," Katara said with a shrug. "After all, not every Water Tribesman is a waterbender, and not everyone in the Earth Kingdom is an earthbender."

"It's different," Aang insisted. "The monks told me that all Air Nomads were benders because we have a unique connection with our spirituality." Katara didn't quite manage to hide her annoyance from him.

"Then explain our kids," she said. "Unless you're the first Air Nomad in history to have children with a non-Air Nomad, someone somewhere got something wrong." Aang went quiet after that. He had no response.

"Just because the Air Nomads may have had children with people from other nations doesn't mean that their children were Air Nomads," an acolyte named Qiao said. She was one of the most apt and studious of Aang's Air Acolytes, and they had spent many hours together pouring over the newly discovered texts. Sometimes, Aang thought that she had a better grasp of Air Nomad culture than even he did.

"I suppose....I suppose that's true," Aang said thoughtfully, taking a sip of his tea.

"The Air Nomads were mostly not monogamous," Qiao pointed out. "I'm sure there were a lot of Nomads who had understandings with their lovers from other nations. Especially among the Air Acolytes of the day."

Aang pondered that for the rest of the day. Then the next. Then the rest of the week before he finally approached Katara. He found her by the fountain with Kya and Bumi. Kya was busy making imperfect little shapes with the water while Katara was teaching Bumi how to put his hair into a warrior's wolf tail.

"You look just like your uncle Sokka," she laughed, pressing a kiss on her son's cheek. "I bet you'll be a great warrior just like him, too." That twisted Aang's gut uncomfortably. He cleared his throat to get Katara's attention.

"Hey, sweetie," he said.

"Hey," Katara smiled at him. "We're just about to have story time. Do you want to stick around for How Umiak Rowed Her Boat to the Stars?"

"Oh, um..."Aang shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "Sure. I was just...thinking of something."

"Yeah?" Katara raised her brow at him. "What?"

"I was just thinking of how all the Air Nomads were benders." Katara didn't bother trying to hide her disgusted snort or the rolling of her eyes.

"Okay, and?" she huffed. "Did you draw any new conclusions?"

"I can't have been the only Air Nomad to have children with someone from a different culture," he said. Katara stared at him blankly for a long moment.

"I told you that," she responded finally. "It's just now sinking in?'

"No, I understood you," Aang told her. He kicked at the ground. There was a loose pebble under his toe and he focused on rolling it back and forth. "It's just...well, the Air Nomads, they weren't strictly monogamous."

"Monogamous," Katara scoffed. "That's a big word for you." Aang bristled a bit at that, but he took a breath and let it go.

"I was just reading," Aang said with a shrug. "It occurred to me that maybe because the Air Nomads weren't monogamous, they just didn't bring their non-bending kids into the Air Nomad society." Katara looked up at Aang with her eyes wide.

"That's awful!" she said. "So because their kids didn't bend the right elements, they had to be cut off from one of their parents?"

"No, I'm sure it wasn't as bad as all that-" Aang started to protest.

"What exactly are you saying, Aang?" There was a dangerous edge to Katara's voice. A warning.

"Nothing, nothing!" he scrambled back, tripping over his tongue, trying to call back his words, and cursing himself for trying to bring up the subject without a plan. Katara eyed him coldly. She was angry and trying not to show it.

"It's time for lunch," she told her children. "Let's go inside and fix something to eat."

"But Mommy," Bumi protested. "I want to hear about Umiak!" Katara turned to him with a tight smile.

"That's okay, sweetie," she said. "I'll tell you while you help me fix lunch." With one last scowl at Aang, she took Bumi's hand and swung Kya up onto her hip and went inside.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Aang felt vindicated when it was discovered that he and Qiao were right. The Air Nomads would often leave non-airbending children with their non-Nomad parents. Sometimes the Air Nomad parent would stay with their non-Nomad partners and build a life with them and their children (something he made a note to tell Katara about). Then it was discovered that they were only partially right.

Some of the Air Nomads stayed and raised mixed heritage families. Some left their non-airbending children behind with their non-Nomad partners. That was expected. Reasonable, even. What Aang was not expecting, however, were the accounts of non-airbending children being given away. Some were adopted, and those adoptions were traceable through documents and letters. Others were sold. Those transactions were traceable, too. By most accounts, those children went into indentured servitude and many of them learned trades and were able to start businesses once their indenture was up. Aang tried to focus on the positives. Katara, however, was horrified.

"What right did they have to sell those children into...into slavery?" she demanded hotly while they were getting ready for bed.

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad," Aang insisted. "After all, the Air Nomads wouldn't have put children into situations where they could've been hurt."

"Yes," Katara sneered. "I'm sure their new owners were very gentle with their exploitation."

"That isn't fair!" Aang protested. "Do you know how difficult it would've been for those kids to live among the Nomads?"

"Probably about as easy as it's been for our kids." Katara glared at Aang meaningly. He felt his cheeks heat as he looked away, pretending not to understand.

Bumi was going on eight now, and Kya was five. They were both old enough to ask questions about why it was so difficult for them to move around their own home. Katara and the Acolytes had an easier time being adults and able to maneuver obstacles that short legs and small hands couldn't without help, but it was still a regular challenge to get around the Air Temple for them. Aang was in the process of building a complex near Republic City where non-airbending Acolytes could live and learn with more ease, but it wouldn't be ready for anyone to move into for another year or so. It would be safer for children with no airbending ability, too. Aang glanced over at Katara from the corner of his eye, at the soft swell of her stomach, already showing signs of pregnancy at her second month.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Tenzin was the last of Aang's children with Katara, and the only airbender. When he was almost one, he airbent for the first time, and Aang couldn't stop celebrating for an entire week. When Tenzin was two, the first of the burial mounds were discovered.

Archaeologists working at the mostly restored Northern Air Temple found it at the base of the mountain. There were several layers to the grave, suggesting generations' worth of use. Most of the bones were small. Infant and toddler sized. The largest bones were about the size of an average eight year old. The bones were all jumbled together, as if they had been tossed in a heap. Some of them wore the clothes they were buried in, but most of the bones were too broken to hang on to any frabric. There were also no signs of any shrouds or anything indicating that they had been given any of the customary funeral rites of the Air Nomads. The fact that they were found at the base of the mountain in itself was unusual. All the different groups of Air Nomads had their own unique funeral customs, but one thing that remained the same was that they were laid to rest as close to the sky as possible.

When the first reports of how the children came to be at the base of the mountain came out, Aang was certain it was the rankest propaganda. None of the Air Nomads, no matter how stringent they were about non-airbenders living among them, would ever harm a child. For a while, he seemed to be right, as all the proof was from secondary and tertiary sources.

"Lies the Fire Nation used to justify genocide," Aang said confidently.

"But how did the children get there?" Katara asked. Aang had no answer for her. Yet. There must have been a good one, though. Maybe a plague had run through the Air Temple, forcing them to bury the bodies at the bottom of the mountain to prevent contamination, or something equally tragic. Aang began talking to the archaeologists about giving the bones a proper burial as soon as they could be sorted. The count at that time was 700 bodies in the pile and there were still so many more to go.

A few months after that, the oldest of the Air Nomad accounts were uncovered. It went back a good 300 years, and it spoke about a surplus of infants born without the gift of airbending. There were too many to be disposed of the normal ways, and many of the non-bending parents were unwilling or unable to raise the children themselves. The anonymous monk wrote of a meeting to discuss the crisis. They wouldn't be able to care for so many that couldn't get around the temple, or travel with the Nomads. There was a food shortage. A water shortage. An everything shortage. So the head monk suggested giving the children to the air. That had been the first time the practice had been recorded, near as anyone could tell. But some of the bones were older than that.

That's what they called it. It sounded lovely. Poetic even. In practice, though, the babies were carried to the edge of the temple grounds and held in the air. A short prayer was said for the souls of the children, and then they just...let go. They were so high up, they probably couldn't hear the children hit the ground.

The public began to call them the Fog Children. They were babies born to Air Nomad parents, but without airbending abilities themselves. People clung to the term and it soon spread all over the world in hushed whispers. Aang hated it. Katara hated it. It was the only thing they could agree on by that time.

"It isn't fair!" Aang bemoaned. "It's like people are using it to justify the Fire Nation killing all the Air Nomads."

"If it bothers you so much," Katara said after she'd put the kids to bed, "then speak up! Condemn what they did."

"I do!" Aang insisted. He had protested, loudly that all of the Air Nomads shouldn't be judged by what one fringe sect did.

"Not just them," Katara said. "All of it. It's just like with the Fire Nation. Remember what Zuko said? You can't expect to move forward without acknowledging the past. All of it was wrong. The Air Nomads treated their non-bending children as if they had no value. Condemn the adoptions and abandonings and the selling of the children!"

"How is it my responsibility to make up for all of that?" Aang demanded.

"You're the only one left," Katara reminded him, trying to be gentle. "I'm not saying you have to call the Air Nomads monsters. They did something wrong. They were human. You can acknowledge that and commit to being better than that."

"How?"

"Start with your children."

It had been a frequent argument between Katara and Aang how Aang treated their children. Bumi was 13 now, well on his way to becoming a man. Kya was 11 and Tenzin was five. Often, Katara would quiz Aang on his children- what Kya's favorite color was, or the name of Bumi's best friend. Aang could admit that he was correct about Tenzin more often than the others, but it was only because Aang had so much he had to teach his youngest. Katara should've understood that. After all, there were things she did with Kya that she couldn't do with Bumi or Tenzin.

"It's not the same," Katara told him. Aang could never remember why, though.

For the next year or so, Aang spent much of his time doing damage control. He did his best to separate the practices at the Northern Air Temple and the particular sect of Air Nomad culture that grew around it from the rest of the Air Nomads. Every criticism of the culture was met sharply by Aang's rebuttals and justifications. Penning article after article espousing the virtues of the Air Nomads at large became his full time job, and obsession. It took him two weeks to notice that Katara had left with all three of his children, and another month for him to find the letter Katara had left in his bedside table telling him she was seeking a divorce.

He got Tenzin three months of the year. It was all he could manage, being completely unused to parenting alone. Aang taught his son what he could of airbending and the Nomad philosophy he could in that time, and did his best to ignore the people whispering fog children in the same breath as his oldest children.

[hazbinshusk]

would u be willing to write a friends to lovers for husk x reader? reader gets very shy and blushy around husk and he just thinks its adorable (i know u usually only write smut so if u don’t feel like writing this its ok!)

no, I love writing fluff! I just tend to get a lot of requests for smut (plus, I'm a horny little fucker, so my own brain gets that way often lol). but I love fluff and my boys definitely deserve it! sorry for the wait, and thanks for being so patient! <3

combined with a kiss prompt because the imagery was so damn cute!

prompt #30: a kiss to the palm of the hand

“Ya gonna get me a refill, Husky, or am I gonna have ta work for my buzz?” Angel asks, sliding his glass back across the bar. It leaves a streak of condensation along the polished wood, and the bartender in question wipes it away before it can leave a mark. “Cause not for nothin’, ya give me a solid two minutes to blow ya mind and ya back out, and you’ll be pourin’ me free drinks ‘til the end of time.”

Husk fixes the spider with a glare of well-practised exasperation. “I ain’t chargin’ ya for drinks to begin with.”

Angel winks at you before waggling his eyebrows at Husk lasciviously. “So, does that mean I’ll get somethin’ better than cheap booze if I put out?”

Husk shrugs, speaking into the neck of his own drink – a dark green bottle half-gone over the last hour. “My foot up your ass?”

“Ooh, kinky!” Angel crows. “Never figured ya for the type with a foot fet—”

“Can it,” Husk bites out, and Angel cackles. “Alright, you’re cut off.”

You giggle as Angel gasps dramatically, and Husk’s smile twitches wider as he meets your eye. It makes you flush, the way his eyes linger on you for a moment longer before he turns back to watch Angel go through the motions of playfully begging for ‘just one more, mister bartender’. Still, you notice the cat demon’s gaze flicker back to you again, and you busy yourself with your drink, hoping the cool liquid will combat the heat burning in your face. You were being silly, you knew that – Husk was your friend, he shouldn’t have this kind of effect on you.

No, this was some stupid little momentary crush that would disappear in the next few days.

Because he was your friend.

Damn it.

You straighten slightly as you realise the other two at the bar are staring at you – you said the last part out loud.

“Just, uh…” you gesture vaguely at the empty glasses. “Cut off. Damn it.”

Husk raises a brow, an amused quirk to his lips. You meet his eye, a bashful smile creeping over your face again despite yourself. Angel glances between the two of you and makes a show of rolling his eyes as he pushes himself up off his stool. “Ooookay… if you two are gonna be weird about it, I guess I’ll go ta bed. Ya happy now?”

“Noooo,” you coo with a pout, too late. “Don’t go…”

Angel smirks playfully at you, a sparkle in his eyes that belays the complaints he’d just made. “Too little, too late, toots. ‘s okay… I’ll go spend some quality time with Nugs and you two can go about makin’ moon eyes at each other or whatever ya do when I ain’t around.”

Christ, could your face get any hotter?

“Jus’ go to bed, Angel.” Husk deadpans, and the porn star grins, giving him a smarmy wink that makes the cat smirk despite his best efforts not to.

Angel stops long enough to smack a kiss against your cheek, blowing another to the bartender. “Love ya too, Husky. Try not to dream about me too much; I jus’ don’t know if ya old heart can take all the excitement.”

Husk lets out a string of half-hearted curses at Angel’s retreating back, the spider’s laughter echoing off the high ceilings.

There’s a moment of silence that falls between the two of you after Angel leaves – it would almost be a comfortable one if it weren’t for the way your heart was still hammering against its cage – before Husk reaches across the bar top to top off your glass with his own bottle. The soft clink of glass meeting glass and the liquor splashing is the only sound for a moment. Then you glance up to find Husk watching you, a soft smirk on his mouth and an eyebrow raised in amused curiosity.

“You okay, doll?” he asks, his voice a quiet rumble that settles wonderfully in the middle of your chest. “I ain’t never known you to be the type to get that boozer’s flush.”

Your brow furrows, and he surprises you by reaching out and touching a claw to your cheek. It’s a brief, glancing touch, but your next exhale comes shakily because of it.

“You’re all red,” he says by way of explanation, voice still soft. That smile is still curving his lips, and God, does it make your whole self feel light and fluttery. “You okay?”

You nod hurriedly – unconvincingly – and Husk huffs a quiet chuckle, lifting the bottle back to his lips. “If you say so. ‘s cute, though.”

Fumbling for a response, you swallow back the rest of your drink. You cough as it burns horribly in your throat, and Husk’s smile – and amusement – grows. “Well… who says you aren’t all red-faced under that fur?” you retort once you have your breath back, words slurring ever so slightly. “Maybe you’re worse than me.”

Husk breathes another laugh, waving a hand towards his face invitingly. “You’re welcome to check, doll.”

The booze is apparently enough to make you daring, and you reach over the bar before you can think about any implications. Like the fact that Husk has just invited you to basically pet him.

You stroke careful, trembling fingers through the fur of his cheek, the tip of your tongue wetting your lips as you feel that soft, soft fur under your fingertips. Husk’s eyes close and he exhales, his shoulders rising and falling with the depth of it. When they open again you find yourself staring back at him, the thin gold rings of his irises burning into you and sending a wonderful sense of warmth through you that had nothing to do with whatever the hell he’d been pouring into your cup.

Husk’s paw comes up to curl around your wrist, soft fur and heart-shaped pad pressed against your skin. His voice comes softly, almost…  playful. “Your hand is shaking. You okay, doll?”

You nod slowly, your breath caught in your throat.

“Good.” Husk smiles, and your eyes widen as Husk pulls your hand away, turns his head, and presses his lips to the palm of your hand. “You had me worried there.”

send me a prompt and either husk or blitzø

[crescenthistory]

Ask: hi, could you write something about barty with the prompt c5. ("there will not be a day where i am not there for you") like he receives a letter from his dad and u can tell something is off ab him and comfort him ? thank youu

Words: 1.4k

Warnings/tags: gn!reader, implied mental health struggles on barty's front, barty isolating himself, hurt/comfort, romanian!barty, general fluff and unconditional love

Note: this request is super old, i'm terribly sorry lmao, but better late than never? barty deserves all the love<33

You had not seen Barty in 5 hours.

Considering that the boy usually seemed to be attached to you by some invisible 5 metres rope, you were growing increasingly concerned. Your poor cheeks were being gnawed off at record speed, and you knew he would chide you for “maiming his lover” later, but you had other priorities at the moment.

Between your last two lessons, he had slipped off down some hallway and never returned. You paid it little mind to begin with, Barty often ran off on spontaneous, perhaps reckless adventures. It was in the whole school’s best interest to just let him, saving all your questions for when he comes back, demanding stories of his grand escapades – because he always came back to your side quickly. 

When he didn’t show up for dinner, your worry thus began to settle despite your trying to fight it. Sometimes he did skip dinner for an array of different reasons, but he always notified you. Throughout the meal your thoughts wandered off, all yearning for him, but you knew how much he would scold you if he found out you skipped dinner for him.

You would hold it against him, if he was not the first person to admit he was being a hypocrite.

You clung onto hope that you would find him in his common room or his dorm afterwards. When you opened the door to his dorm only to be met with their shared snake, Nova, as the only living being in the room, you finally allowed yourself to give in and accept defeat.

Barty was missing and you were worried.

Behind you, the tell-tale sounds of Regulus’ dance-like steps alerted you to his incoming presence. “Reg,” you said, poking your head out to catch his attention. “Barty hasn’t told you where he’s off to?”

Regulus gave you a bit of an odd look as he passed you in the doorway. “Does he ever?”

You gave him a look that hopefully said yeah, that’s fair before you straightened up once more. “Will you tell me if you see him?”

“If I see him, he’ll be here.” Regulus was clearly not in one of his more chatty moods. This time you gave him a look you knew said play nice. He sighed. “I’ll let you know, yeah. I’ll ask Evan too, when he gets here.”

You gave him a rueful smile. “Thank you Reggie, this is why you’re my favourite.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled as he laid down on his bed to read. You had enough wits about you to close the door before you left, not wanting a stinging curse to be thrown after you down the hallway and doubly not wanting Barty to get revenge on Regulus for doing so. He always found out somehow.

This was not Barty’s first time disappearing, nor did you suspect it would be his last. You usually had a list of reasons why he might run off and places to look for him if he did.

Had he been in a particularly jittery or theatrical mood, you would have been worse off, as he quite literally could be anywhere where he might cause the most damage and drama. Usually you would begin in Gryffindor or the Care for Magical Creatures classroom, but thankfully you did not have to resort to those measures.

Because Barty had been in a very distinctive restrained mood that only you and a select few of his friends ever seemed to be able to decipher. When you first met him, you thought that mood meant he was annoyed somehow – now you knew that when Barty was truly irritated, he grinned like a maniac. 

This almost stoicness meant only one thing; Barty was feeling vulnerable. Maybe even defeated.

Which quickly limited his hiding spots to places where he could grasp at some privacy without feeling trapped. Considering that the last time he tried to hide away in the prefect’s bathroom, he got caught by none other than James Potter, the poor sod, you narrowed your best bet down to the Astronomy Tower.

Led by a gut instinct and a mouthful of compassion, you scurried up the hundreds of steps needed, hoping to find him and not accidentally stumble in on some awkward attempt at a date between some fourth years.

When you tried to turn the handle to the Astronomy Tower’s door only to find it to be magically locked, you knew you were right in your judgement.

“Barty? Are you in there, love, it’s me?” you called through the door, aiming at making your voice as steady as possible. He hated being treated like he was fragile, at least before he was curled up in your arms.

The faint buzzing sound in your ears alerted you to the fact that he had thrown a muffliato over the room, meaning you wouldn’t hear him if he replied. He could still hear you, though, so you tried your luck further.

“It’s alright, B. I’m here.” You hoped to Merlin he could hear the love and reassurance dripping from your words.

The whirring sound was interrupted by a faint click as the lock was opened. Taking extra precautions, you looked behind you to ensure you would be alone and slipped in through the door, locking it behind you once more without looking.

Fresh air filled your lungs the second you stepped into the tower – one of the reasons why it was such a great place to escape to when feeling anxious or down or both. Your heart was similarly filled when you saw Barty sitting in a large windowsill with his knees pulled up to his chest, staring out with an empty gaze.

“Hi there, lovely,” you said rather cheerily, making your relaxed state penetrate the atmosphere of doom that followed Barty on these days.

You walked over and went to lift yourself up into the windowsill, only for Barty to break free of his trance for a moment to take your hand and elbow and help you navigate carefully until you were seated across from him, legs entangling with his own. He let out a breath. “Hi, Dragă.”

You smiled carefully at him, settling into your place and letting the cold from the window seep in through your clothes without a bother. You leaned forward so your body was bent in half to rest your chin on his propped up knees, giving you a perfectly clear vision of his face. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t want you to have to talk about it.”

Barty always did that when something was wrong – denying you of any responsibility or option to help, assuming it was below you to do so. After a few years attached at the hip, he had learned he could not make you “realise you should leave his arse”, but he would still aim to shield you from himself on these days.

Other days, he would do anything to make you not realise, desperate to claw you to himself. A boy that contained multitudes, each one equally lovable in your opinion, to which he called you horribly insane. 

“At least we’ve got that in common, babe.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” you reassured quietly, chin moving against his kneecaps. “I really do want to, though. Be there for you, I mean.”

His gaze met yours, softening at the authenticity and affection surely plastered all over your face. He brought a previously dead hand up from beside him to stroke his knuckles over your left cheek, moving them backwards into your hair. “You always are, aren’t you?”

You let your smile widen at him embracing your care. “There will not be a day where I am not here for you, B. Whether you want me to or not.”

His eyes flickered with a vulnerability only you ever saw. The next thing he said was so meek that you almost didn’t catch it, but flowers bloomed in your stomach when you did. “I want you to.”

You reached your own hand up to catch his in your hair and brought the inside of his wrist towards your mouth to press slow, gentle kisses to it. “I’m glad, lovely. Now spill.”

[storiesofsvu]

One ask wasn't enough! So, how about these prompts, with Cabot?

"I can't sleep, can I stay here?" and

"Don't... I'm ticklish!"

Thank youuuu 🥰🥰

Thank YOU so much!! Here ya go!

Insomnia Strikes

Alex Cabot x reader (more implied than anything else lol) Warnings: mentions of anxiety/insomnia, I think that's about it. Just a nice little comfort one shot.

Being the natural night owl that you were, you never had any problems swapping shifts around when someone on the squad got roped into an overnight shift. You honestly didn’t mind it, you basically chilled alone, ate snacks, scrolled through your phone and answered a handful of phone calls that the desk clerk downstairs didn’t catch. It was a very rare occasion where something actually made its way to you prior to six in the morning and by then you were usually only on intake, passing it off to the day team before heading home. It was a nice little break from the chaos that the squad room and a courtroom normally were.

You spent the first few hours catching up on paperwork, finishing all the nearly late files, scrawling your signature across them before popping them into Cragen’s inbox. The squad slowly disappearing as late evening hit until only Olivia remained and you tossed a crumpled up piece of paper onto her desk, telling her to get out of there. You knew she liked to stick around as late as she could, not wanting anyone to really be trapped all alone in the building and she was quick to ask if you’d eaten dinner yet. You laughed, saying you had your breakfast before you came in and that she better get home to get some sleep. If she complained of being tired when you finally did have to call her in, you’d hold it against her. That finally got her going, giving you a warm smile as she wished you goodnight and finally left the precinct.

Once office lights began to flick off and the downstairs desk attendant clocked in things fell into a state of stillness, quiet and calm seeping through the air. Your paperwork was actually done, the most recent case you’d been working on waiting on the jury and you appeared to be free from actual work. So you started on the more mundane tasks, things that didn’t get done until you were on night shift. You started out by cleaning your desk, tossing out old receipts, crumpled up pastry bags, pencils that were so slivered down they couldn’t be used. Grabbing the collection of coffee mugs from the bull pen you headed into the break room, loading up the sink with hot soapy water to take care of the dishes in there. The cleaning crew usually came through around midnight, so you tackled the fridge, throwing out anything and everything that wasn’t labelled, had been in there for too long or seemed to be growing its own ecosystem.

After a very thorough hand wash, you wandered back to your desk, phone in your hand as you ordered some food for dinner, though maybe it was technically your lunch. Having no messages, calls or emails waiting, you pulled out your I-pad, sitting it on your desk as you settled back into your chair, pulling up your most recent binge. You were starting to get a little antsy twenty minutes in, your foot tapping against the floor over and over again. If it were day shift you’d usually caught a case or had to trek over to the DA’s office by now, but you were still just sitting there wishing you had an easier way to get your steps in. Your prayers were partially answered when the desk sergeant called up saying your food was there and you got to jog down the stairs to pay the driver before wandering back up them to your desk.

You ate a couple of slices, snagged a soda from the machine and set the box off to the side as you turned your attention back to the screen in front of you. The cleaning crew came and went, efficiently working through the space in no time, waving a friendly hello and then goodbye to you once they were finished. It wasn’t much later after that when you heard the shuffling of feet coming from the hallway and you glanced up, half expecting the desk clerk to be coming to take advantage of the vending machines. Your head tilted when instead you spotted Alex, loose leggings and a fuzzy sweater wrapped around her frame, hair messily tied back.

“Lex?” You greeted and her head lifted up, a small smile on her cheeks when she saw you. “What’re you doing here? Please don’t tell me you’re gonna have to go wake up a judge.”

“No.” She replied with a small huff, leaning over to press a kiss to your temple before pulling over a spare chair and dropping into it. “Tried your apartment first, neighbour said they saw you leaving for work late so I figured you were stuck on night shift.”

“And you thought I needed a babysitter?” You asked with a tease and she shook her head at you.

“Long day. I just wanted to make sure I got to see you at some point.” She yawned, her hands sneaking under her glasses to rub furiously at her eyes.

“You could’ve just called.”

She glanced up at you, a nervous look in her eyes as she chewed on her lip for a minute before letting out a breath, “I can’t sleep. Can I just stay here?”

“Yeah.” You smiled, reaching out to squeeze at her knee, “course you can. Did you at least try to sleep? Or were you still up on the couch pouring over case files?”

“I did.” She revealed with a sigh, “stared at the ceiling tossing and turning for almost four hours before I gave up. My brain just won’t shut up.”

“Did you take your meds?” You asked and she glanced up at you with a sheepish look on her face, softly shaking her head.

“I ran out on Monday; didn’t realize I was so low and I couldn’t get an appointment for a refill until next Tuesday. I took the anxiety one at eight and doctor’s orders say I can’t take melatonin with it, so I’m just kinda out of luck.”

“Shit.” You frowned, squeezing at her leg again, “next time we’ll make sure you always have an immediate refill on hand.”

“Thanks.” Her hand caught yours, squeezing it softly as she smiled across at you.

“You eat?”

“Wasn’t really hungry.” She shrugged, “had a granola bar.”

“How about you dig into this,” you tugged the pizza box from the other side of the desk, flipping it open in front of her and when the smell wafted over to she felt her stomach begin to grumble. “I’ll see what they have for tea in the break room.”

Leaving a kiss on the top of her head you left her to it, commenting for her to change the Netflix to whatever she wanted while you were gone. Digging through the break room you were pleasantly surprised to find a box of chamomile tea, turning on the kettle and brewing a mug exactly the way Alex liked it. When you crossed back into the bull pen she was curled up in the spare chair, your NYPD hoodie you normally stashed in the lower drawer of your desk draped over her lap as her hands played with the fraying cuffs.

A warm smile overtook your features as you placed the mug down in front of her, kissing her cheek again before reminding her to eat. With a tired sigh she finally leant forward, taking a slice of pizza, a pleased groan leaving her when she found it still warm.

She’d chosen one of your mutual favourite comfort movies, a classic rom com with no drama or terribly corny jokes set in the city you’d made your home. She ate her slice and sipped at her tea while she watched, relaxing into your side as she did so. You had to answer a couple of texts over the course of the hour but otherwise you were pleasantly occupied and comfortable. There were about five minutes left in the movie when she was fully slumped on your shoulder, you could feel her steady breathing and were certain her eyes had finally closed even if she wasn’t asleep yet. Your fingers poked gently at her side and she grumbled, flinching away from your touch without moving her head off your shoulder.

“Don’t. I’m ticklish.”

“Sorry.” You murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “lets get you to the crib, you can get some actual sleep.”

“Come with me?” She finally looked up at you with sapphire puppy dog eyes and a pout on her lips. You smiled softly, letting out a breath of a laugh.

“Okay, but only ‘til you fall asleep. I am on duty after all.”

“Fine.” She scowled, yawning, her eyes still drooping as she reluctantly stood from the chair, your hoodie still curled in her arms.

Alex shuffled away to the bunk room, letting herself in and leading you to the bunk burrowed in the corner. You grabbed a couple of extra pillows and blankets, making sure she was more than comfortable, tucked in and relaxed as she curled up on her side face you. Perched on the edge of the bed you smoothed back her hair, tucking it behind her ear as her eyes fell shut again, letting out a content sigh.

“Thank you.” She murmured; her voice muffled by the pillow.

“Anytime baby.” You whispered back, fingers trailing across her cheek before you kissed her forehead.

By the time you’d sat upright she was out like a light, soft snores echoing through the small room and a small smile crept onto your lips. Pulling out your phone you quickly set an alarm so she would have enough time to get home and get dressed properly for the day before having to return to the DA’s office and quietly made your way from the room. You knew it wasn’t much, but it really was the little things, knowing that whenever Alex was fighting a bout of insomnia she found solace and relief in you, that no matter where you were, she would eventually be lulled into comfort and thus sleep as long as you were around.

________________________

@mickey-gomez @cabotfan42 @detective-giggles @red1culous @beccabarba @imlike-so-gaydude @altsvu @svulife-rl rl @svushots @mspetey @wannabe-fic-reader @lawandorderimagines @gaylorrds @mysticfalls01 @littlegaybabe @bumblebear30 @wosoimagines @solemnnova @cerberus-spectre @emskisworld @ex-uallyactive @lawandorderuswnt @samwithnoplan @multifandomlesbianic @narvaldetierra @momlifebehard @poisonedcrowns @a-little-bit-of-this-and-that @somethingimaginative17 @alexxavicry @daddy-heather-dunbar @evilregal2002 @7thavenger @disneyfan624 @msvenablesbitch @happenstnces @onmykneesformarvel @desperate-gay @riveramorylunar @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @noahrex @temp0rary-bliss @wittygutsy @chimnlex @maximoffcarter @sapphicqueenofdonuts @ralla-ralla @chestnutninny @gamma-rae-bursts

[flannel-cladpika]

Hawks x F!Reader - Better Late Than Never

A/N: I kept imagining what he'd be like as a dad, and what he'd go through after finding out that he is one.

TW: Slight Angst, Suggestive Themes, Fluff

It had just been a drunken one night stand.

You'd been pretty tipsy at the bar, trying to get over your long-term boyfriend-turned-ex who cheated on you.

The next thing you knew, you were kissing an equally drunk, very handsome blonde with red wings, and dragging him out of the bar and into your bed.

You awoke the next morning alone, with an ache in your back and a killer hangover.

It wasn't until you missed your next period that you realized what you'd done.

And that was how you got your little buddle of joy, Sen.

You tried to find the guy who'd turned you into a single mom, but you couldn't remember his name. You were pretty sure he'd used a fake name anyway, since it sounded like the name of a bird. Heron? Eagle? You couldn't quite remember.

Your family pestered you with questions about who the father was, but were ultimately supportive of your choice to keep the baby. You got a place not far from your parents, who helped you with raising your daughter and were there to give you advice and support when you needed it.

Your little Sen looked just like her father, golden hair and daffodil eyes with a smile that could melt even the iciest of hearts.

Eventually, you caught sight of him on the news one night after putting your 3 year-old to bed. He was saving hostages from a bank hold-up, his red wings spread wide as he used his feathers to get people out of the building.

Turned out; the father of your child was the freaking number two hero of Japan.

Your first instinct was to freak out. What if paparazzi found out about your daughter? After all, she was clearly her father's child. What if villains targeted her for being related to him? What if-

But then you did some digging into the winged hero and found out he operated mostly in Fukuoka, which was a relief, because you lived 10 hours away in Okayama. Well, it was 3 hours by air (you checked flights to see how far he would've had to fly), so Hawks must have just stopped over for a night of letting loose to get away from his hero life that night.

After that, you just went about your days like normal. You never tried to contact the pro-hero, nor did you ever tell your daughter. She didn't need to know that her father was someone who she'd never be able to meet. Nor did she need to know that he had no idea that she even existed.

---

"Mama! Ice-cream!" your small daughter exclaimed excitedly as she held onto your hand, pointing towards an ice-cream stall.

You smile down at your blonde 4 year-old and chuckle softly, watching as her little red tufts of feathers wiggle excitedly.

You were visiting your brother in Tokyo and had brought your little one to see the sights and her uncle, whom she hadn't seen since New Years.

A lot had happened in the hero world, what with a major battle against a villain organization that had proved fatal for some pro-heroes. You had silently hoped that Hawks wasn't one of them, and when his name wasn't on the list of the deceased, you breathed a small sigh of relief.

You pick up your little golden-haired child and held her in your arms as you kissed her nose playfully.

"Sure, sweetheart~. How about we get some ice-cream and then go to the playground?" you offer, smiling as you hear your daughter giggle happily.

"Okay!" she replies, smiling brightly.

You walk up and get a small dish of ice-cream for your daughter and a medium for yourself, handing the smaller one to your child who is still in your arms.

"Here you go, sweetie"

As your daughter is about to take a lick of her frozen dessert, you stop her.

"Sen, what do we say to the nice man who just gave us ice-cream?" you prompt, waiting for her to say it.

The little girl turns towards the teenager behind the stall, and smiles.

"Thank you, mister!" she says, beaming.

The young man smiles at the sight, clearly endeared by the adorable small child.

"You're welcome" he says as the two of you walk away towards the park.

She gobbles down her ice-cream in the blink of an eye, throwing away her container and rushing over to the playground to walk up the steps and go down the slide as you watch from the nearby bench and finish your own frozen treat.

Suddenly, Sen loses her footing, and your world seems to go in slow-motion.

As she starts to fall off the play structure, you run to save her, your feet carrying you faster than they ever have before, your arms outstretched, prepared to catch your child.

But someone else gets there before you do.

"Woah there little bird! Careful now. Don't want you getting hurt, now.~" says a smooth, masculine voice.

You look up to see a familiar hero holding your daughter aloft, having caught her mid-fall in his arms.

The little girl looks at the citrine-haired man with wide eyes, amazement and wonder in her expression.

"Angel?" she asks, looking at his sparsely feathered wings, trying to reach for his feathers.

The blonde male chuckles as he looks down at the child with a bright television-worthy smile.

He pauses as he notices her saffron hair and amber eyes.

"Achoo!"

Your eyes widen as you rush forward and take your child from his arms, watching as her crimson baby feathers ruffle as she sneezes.

The man's eyes widen as he sees you and looks down at the child in your arms that resembles him so much, slowly piecing things together as he steps back.

You back up, holding your daughter close.

"Mama, you're squishing me!" she giggles, not sensing the change in atmosphere.

Her voice jolts you out of your trance and you look down at your child in your arms, checking her for injuries.

"Sorry, honeybee. Are you ok? Did you get hurt?" you ask, checking her over.

The little one in your arms shook her head.

"Nuh-uh. The angel saved me from getting hurt!" she said, smile on her face as she looked over at the blonde man.

You look over at him and awkwardly bow.

"T-Thank you, sir. We should be going-" you begin, about to step away before he steps closer, his hand outstretched, but not reaching you.

"Hang on. You...we... is she..?" he started, clearly trying to find the words for this situation.

You hold your daughter away from him and step back.

"N-No...she's not" you respond unconvincingly, not able to look him in the eye.

The blonde scoffs. "Really? Cause she sure looks a lot like me. Practically a carbon copy."

You glare at him holding her close as you set down at the young girl.

"Sen, sweetie, why don't you go play in the sandbox over there while mama thanks this nice man?" you say softly.

The small child nods happily and runs off towards the nearby sandbox where you could keep an eye on her. You then sit down on the bench from before and pat the spot next to you as you look at the man you'd dreaded meeting.

"Well?" you ask, raising a brow with an unenthusiastic expression.

He took a seat next to you, rubbing his face as he groaned.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, looking at the ground.

You scoff mirthlessly. "And how would I have done that? Not like you left a name or number to contact you." you respond a bit bitterly.

The man winces slightly. "Yeah, that was kind of a dick move on my part. But I'm sure you know who I am. You could've come to my agency, or something."

You roll your eyes. "And what would I have said? 'Oh hey, one of the top heroes knocked me up in a one-night stand, let me see him'? Yeah, I'm sure THAT would've gone well."

Hawks sighs as he runs a hand over his face.

"You're not wrong... but still, you could've called my agent or... something. Anything to let me know."

You rub your temple as you let out a sigh. "And what could you have done? You're a top hero, and have a reputation to uphold. You have a lot of female fans that like you because you're hot and single and they can dream of dating you. We would've hurt your image."

The man groaned as he put his head in his hands. "I hate that you're right...goddammit..."

You give him a sympathetic smile as you pat his back reassuringly.

"Hey...it's ok. You can walk away. I wouldn't even blame you. I don't expect you to suddenly become a father, especially after everything you've had to go through recently. I promise I won't ask for money or tell anyone."

The topaz-eyed hero looked up at you, before looking up and glancing at his daughter playing in the sandbox, her tiny wings spread out as she pretended she was digging for buried treasure. A small smile crept up his face as he watched her.

"Nah. I think she might be exactly what I need right now. Hell, I bet the media would be happy to see me playing the doting father role." he half chuckled.

You narrowed your eyes as you grasped his chin and made him look at you, your voice drenched in venom and warning.

"My daughter is not a prop for you to use to increase your popularity, Hawks. Whether you're her biological father or not."

The hero's eyes widened at your tone and raised his hands in surrender with a smile.

"Hey now, I was just kidding! I would never do such a thing to my own kid."

You continued to glare at him as you released him and looked back at your child with a softer expression.

"She's a wonderful girl, you know. She's so curious and adventurous." you say gently.

The man looked back at his child and smiled. "She seems like it. And if you'd let me, I'd like to be there for those adventures."

You glance his way as you chuckle softly. "Maybe. I'll give you a 2 month trial. Then we'll talk."

Hawks smirked as you looked your way.

THE END

"Deal~."

EPILOGUE

"Papa!"

A/N: Not sure if I love this one, but I might edit it later

[spoonfulofmilo]

Mick x driver!male!reader but childhood friends to rivals to lovers trope pls?

been writing this for so long, but I love it so much, and I'm finally happy with it :)

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Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

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mick schumacher x male!driver!reader - childhood friends to rivals to lovers

2004

---

“Micky, Micky!”

Michael watched as the 2 kids smiled at the camera, both struggling to hoist their trophies up for the trophy. He saw the trophy tilt and tried to cry out, however it was too late.

Y/N could feel the tears welling up in his eyes as his head hurt. He’d heard his friend Max’s dad say that men don’t cry, and unless he was dying, there was no reason to cry. But he was 5 and the impact that the metal trophy had made with his head had really hurt.

But before the tears could fall out, Mick had already placed both his and Y/N’s trophies on the ground and was giving his best friend the biggest hug, and trying to stop him crying.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay You’re okay. This only hurt because it scared you. It doesn’t hurt as badly as the karting crash from last month, you’re okay, aren’t you.”

Y/N wiped his tears and nodded, trying to smile as he gasped to get his tears under control. Mick gave him the biggest hug ever as he stopped crying and picked up his trophy again.

Michael watched as the photos began again and the 2 kids smiled. Those 2 were going to do great things some day, he knew it.

---

2009

---

Michael didn’t think that Y/N would be happy when he got out of the kart. Mick and him had been fighting the entire race, miles ahead of anyone else and it had looked like Y/N would win it.

Until Mick went for a daring dive down the inside of Y/N’s kart, resulting in a spin for Y/N. He’d gotten back, gotten up to close to Mick again, but that spin had been costly, as Mick crossed the line and Y/N crossed it in second.

Michael didn’t even try to look for Y/N’s parents. They either would’ve gone home, expecting Michael to bring him home, or they’d be waiting in the pits for an opportunity to berate their son.

If they had done the former, Michael reckoned he would simply decide to let Y/N stay over for a sleepover tonight. He needed it.

As Michael wandered down to the pits where the drivers were finishing and parking up, he tried to blend in. It was easier than it used to be, back when he was racing he’d spend a while after every race taking photos with a couple of kids, talking to them, trying to convince them not to give up on their dreams even when it’s impossible. But now, ducking through, he was almost invisible.

And as he approached the two 10 year old boys, all he saw was jubilation. The 2 kids were happy, celebrating each other.

‘Papa! Papa! Did you see that, I won!’

“He did very well, even though I’m not exactly happy about that dive down the inside.”

Nothing about Y/N’s face indicated that he was unhappy, except for the darted around eyes that signalled he was looking for his parents.

They weren’t here. Clearly. Michael pulled Y/N into a hug. “C’mon, let’s get you 2 on the podium, and then we can head home. You wanna stay at home tonight?”

Michael didn’t even realise he had referred to his own home as Y/N’s home, as he saw his face light up.

“Home sounds good,” smiled Y/N, as he darted off to follow Mick to the podium.

---

2019

---

“Mick. I get that we were friends, back in karting, but life happens. Stuff happens. We’re both gunning for the championship and the f1 seat.”

“That doesn’t mean that anything has to change between the 2 of us, Y/N. We never let that stuff get between us usually. We were fighting for seats our entire childhood, and it never got between us then.”

“Yeah, well, this is the big leagues, Schumacher, sink or swim. I would wish you good luck out there, but I think I need it more.”

Y/N smiled at Mick, but it wasn’t a nice smile. It was a planned smile, like he knew what he was doing the whole time. Then he turned and left the driver room, heading towards the garage.

Mick tried to stop his eyes welling up with tears. First of all, Y/N was his friend. He didn’t know where this competitive spirit had come from. Well, Y/N had always been competitive, but not an asshole. And right now, he was being an asshole.

And Y/N knew of all people how much he hated his last name. How he hated when people referred to him as Schumacher, how he wanted to be seen as his own person, not his father’s son. And yet Y/N had called him Schumacher.

“Fucking asshole” was all Mick thought to himself as he prepared for the race.

---

2020

---

Y/N looked like he was going to throw something. Or murder someone. Or crash his car into a barrier. He looked positively fuming as Prema surrounded Mick, congratulating him on his driver championship and celebrating the team’s championship.

But Y/N, the person who’d been with him since karting, since they’d both been born. That was who he wanted to see and talk to. He bounded towards where the other prema driver was getting weighed.

“Y/N! Y/N, we got the championship!”

Y/N didn’t respond, just simply nodded, before listening to whatever the official was saying and wandering away from Mick.

As if he didn’t exist.

“Y/N” he called again, seeing him take out his headphones, maybe he hadn’t heard Mick’s calls. He could hear his family and team calling out, ready to celebrate. But he wanted to celebrate with Y/N.

Mick called out again “Y/N.”

“The fuck you want Schumacher?”

“I… wanted to celebrate the win with you. We won the teams championships. We should be celebrate.”

“Yeah, congrats. Congrats on your seat for next year as well.”

“I- oh, c’mon Y/N, you’ll get a seat. I bet Christian Horner’s just seeing how long you can hold out before he gives you the Alpha Tauri seat.”

“Yeah, well. Currently you have a contract and I don’t, so excuse me if I’m a little salty.”

“Y/L/N.”

Mick saw the way his jaw tightened, as he heard his father’s voice.

“I have to go, now Mick. Enjoy your win, and congratulations.”

Mick watched him walk off, towards his father. He saw the way he curled in on himself, as his father slung his arm around his shoulders.

Days later, when Y/N’s seat at Alpha Tauri was confirmed, Mick messaged him congratulations.

Y/N didn’t message back.

---

2022

---

“When did you start hating me Y/N?”

Mick was pissed. Y/N had nearly taken him out early in the race. He hadn’t spoken to him in years, since the end of 2020, over a year ago. He missed his childhood friend, and the fans had too.

Finding childhood photos of the 2 of them, often with Michael, had brought up more painful memories than he would like to admit.

Y/N was hyper aware of the cameras following them through the paddock, and so continued walking until he could pull Mick into a quiet corner where the cameras couldn’t reach them.

Inevitably, Y/N thought as he pulled Mick into the side of a motorhome, this will end up on the next season of drive to survive, but god do I care, no.

“I never hated you Mick. I tried to make myself hate you, but I couldn’t. You could hate me, and I would still love you.” 

Y/N tried to retract the ‘l’ word as soon as it came out of his mouth, covering his mouth and praying that Mick didn’t hear him correctly. Yeah they’d said ‘i love you’ to each other as kids, but that was when they were young, and kids and they didn’t understand the word, or the world that they lived in, or themselves fully. It was just another silly childhood promise.

Besides, while Y/N understood himself as queer, there were never any queer drivers, and he was probably about 95% sure that Mick was straight. He’d been spotted with girls through the junior formulas and he’d even been introduced to a couple of the girls. They were all lovely, but they never seemed to last a long time.

Mick's eyes widened as he heard the love word come out of Y/N’s mouth. Honestly, he was confused as to how he never saw the signs of Y/N’s queerness. The fact that there was 1 girl in karting, when he was 14, and then she never showed up again. The way his eyes had always lingered just long enough that it was unusual, but not long enough to cause any real suspicion. The way he’d gone on a few dates here and there, but always been super hush hush about the whole thing, not mentioning it until after it had happened. The way those dates had always had they/them pronouns, or they hadn’t been named.

“Y/N…you love me?” Fuck, Y/N had really fucked this up.

“No,” Mick’s heart dropped “No, I, fuck fine. It’s not like I’m ruining any friendship. Yes. Yes. I love you. And I have since, well not the day I met you. Maybe when we first got into single seaters… fuck i don’t know, but yeah i love you.” Y/N took Mick’s silence badly and just decided to walk out towards his driver’s room.

Mick didn’t follow him.

---

2025

---

Y/N couldn’t even be pissed as he crossed the line second behind Mick. The Ferrari just seemed happy, even from 5 seconds behind.

“AND MICK SCHUMACHER CROSSES THE LINE FIRST TO WIN THE GERMAN GRAND PRIX AND CLAIM HIS FIRST EVER WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP, and there’s his father on the screen looking every part like the proud dad that I’d imagine he is right now.”

“That’s right Crofty, it may not be the 7 world championships that Schumacher Sr achieved, but still this championship must mean so much to him.”

Mick pulled in to the pitlane, behind the number 1 stand, and he just sat in the scarlet Ferrari crying.

He had done it.

He had won a world championship.

Y/N pulled up beside him in the dark blue red bull, smile evident even after losing the championship.

He watched as he pulled off his helmet, watching as Mick embraced his family, his mum, his dad, his sister, his niece. He stood to the side high fiving his team, and thanking them for a great year. Next year would be their year.

And he didn’t exactly try and stop Mick as the German ran towards him, helmet off, and pulled him into a kiss.

---

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[rainystarters]

๋࣭ ⭑𓆩✧𓆪🗡ྀ࿔ 〖 and other stories . . . 〗 a collection of dialogue + action prompts inspired by angela carter's the bloody chamber and other stories. some prompts usfw. add +reversed for the muse receiving the meme to perform the action instead. adjust details as necessary.

dialogue :

are you sure you want to marry him?

oh! how you must want me!

soon.

i had never been vain until i met you.

anticipation is the greater part of pleasure.

all the better to see you.

what is that key? the key to your heart?

every man must have one secret, even if only one, from his wife.

all is yours, everywhere is open to you.

but now... what shall i do now?

my darling, i cannot wait for the moment when you make me yours completely.

there is a striking resemblance between the act of love and the ministrations of a torturer.

you are in some great distress.

any bride brought to a castle should come ready dressed in mourning.

oh god. i can smell the blood.

i thought all these were old wives' tales, chattering of fools, spooks to scare bad children into good behavior!

can't it wait until morning, my darling?

who can say what i deserve or no?

i've done nothing; but that may be sufficient reason for condemning me.

i have a place prepared for your exquisite corpse upon my display of flesh.

good fellow? i am no good fellow.

forgive me for robbing your garden!

all she wanted, in the whole world, was one white, perfect rose.

and what else was there to be done?

they are the death of any tender herbivore.

so late! you will want sleep.

you will come back to me? it will be lonely here, without you.

i will come back. soon, before the winter is over.

i am sick and i must die.

if you'll have me, i'll never leave you.

i think i might be able to manage a little breakfast today.

i have lost my pearl, my pearl beyond price.

if you are so careless of your treasure, you should expect them to be taken from you.

for all my pride, my heart is heavy.

if you wish to give me money, then i should be pleased to receive it.

i shall twist a noose out of my bed linen and hang myself with it.

you are a woman of honor.

nothing human lives here.

we have dispensed with servants.

take off my clothes for you, like a ballet girl? is that all you want of me?

all cats are cynics.

you read my thoughts, my love.

the woods enclose. the wood swallows you up.

all will fall still, all lapse.

it is easy to lose yourself in these woods.

i thought that nobody was in the wood but me.

there are some eyes can eat you.

sometimes the birds, at random, all singing, strike a chord.

eat me, drink me.

dive in and fetch it for me.

now you are at the place of annihilation.

and she is herself a cave full of echoes, she is a system of repetitions, she is a closed circuit.

can a bird sing only the song it knows or can it learn a new song?

beauty is a symptom of disorder, of soullessness.

a single kiss woke up the sleeping beauty in the wood.

be he alive or be he dead.

coffee. you must have coffee.

welcome. welcome to my chateau.

i rarely receive visitors and that's a misfortune since nothing animates me half as much as the presence of a stranger.

this place is so lonely.

now the village is deserted.

often i am so silent that i think i, too, will soon forget how to do so and nobody will ever talk any more.

i must apologize for the lack of light.

you have such a fine throat, like a column of marble.

i am condemned to solitude and dark.

i do not mean to hurt you.

i will be very gentle.

and could love free me from the shadows?

i've been waiting for you in my wedding dress, why have you delayed for so long.

you will feel no pain, my darling.

so delicate and damned, poor thing. quite damned.

the end of exile is the end of being.

it is a northern country; they have cold weather, they have cold hearts.

the devil is as real as you or i.

do not leave the path.

you are always in danger in the forest.

they are as unkind as plague.

fear and flee the wolf; for, worst of all, the wolf may be more than he seems.

besides, aren't you afraid of the wolves?

actions :

clasp. from behind, the sender places their hands over the receiver's eyes.

opera. through opera glasses, the sender watches the receiver.

choker. the sender fastens a gemstone necklace around the receiver's neck.

carriage. the sender locks the receiver in with them in their train compartment.

spine. the sender presses a kiss to the back of the receiver's bare neck.

cigar. the sender leans in and blows smoke in the receiver's face.

ermine. the sender wraps the furs around the receiver tighter as the snow falls.

keys. the sender silently enters the room and listens to the receiver play piano.

harem. the sender undresses the receiver before a collection of mirrors.

lazy. the sender brings the receiver breakfast in bed.

call. the sender calls the receiver and bursts into tears upon hearing their voice.

note. the sender discovers a love letter sent to the receiver from a previous lover.

death. the sender finds the receiver with the body of their latest victim.

hospitality. the sender watches from the shadows as the receiver take refuge from a storm in the sender's seemingly abandoned home.

servant. invisible, the sender feeds/washes/cares for the receiver.

hearth. the sender and the receiver talk past midnight by the fire's light.

hands. the sender falls to their knees before the receiver and kisses their hands.

bouquet. the sender has a hundred white roses sent to the receiver.

reunion. the sender lays eyes upon the receiver for the first time in an age.

bad luck. the sender hangs their head having lost a bet to the receiver.

voice. the sender sends their valet to speak their desires to the receiver.

powder. the sender dresses/makes up the receiver before an important night.

stallion. the sender grabs the reins of the receiver's horse and leads them away.

weep. the sender cries at the sight of the receiver in such a state.

dry. the sender brushes a tear from the receiver's cheek.

flush. the sender pinches the receiver's skin, watching it redden with blood.

prey. the sender guides the receiver's hands as together they skin a rabbit.

song. the sender sings and the receiver is spellbound, their feet following their song's command.

caught. the sender locks the receiver into a cage.

green. by the sender's command, the growth begins to take over the receiver.

tarot. the sender tells the receiver they are doomed to a sad fate.

stain. the sender touches the bloodstain on the receiver's white negligée.

wild. the sender rides hard through the night, chasing the receiver.

thirst. the sender sinks their teeth into the neck of the receiver.

china. the sender pours tea for the receiver and offers them biscuits.

blemish. the sender explores the receiver's skin and finds the mark of a witch.

wolf. the wolf reveals themself to be the sender before the receiver.

muzzle. the sender kisses the monstrous mouth of the receiver.

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being the youngest Gotham Knight

Gotham Knights x reader

warnings:

a/n:

prompt: anonymous: “For a Gotham Knights headcannon game request please: Being the youngest of the Knights, who they are all protective of?”

you weren’t new to the vigilante business

but thay didn’t stop your makeshift family from worrying over you

“hey, if i died, you can die too” -jason

“do you know how crazy that sounds? like can you hear yourself? repeat it” -you

bruce being gone also really affected that feeling of immortality you guys had with the masks on

“y/n should be the lookout” -dick

“that’s the third time this week!” -you

“you just have really good eyesight” -dick

certain villains really loved you

like harley

“kid! how the hell are ya? oh—sorry. didn’t mean to say any bad words around the baby, how the heck are ya?” -harley, in lockup

“ha ha, very funny” -you, sarcastically

“i get that a lot” -harley

the knights tried to give you a curfew lol

“we are literally vigilantes. why would you give me a curfew” -you

“well, you’re…growing? you need rest” -barbara

“we’re just making sure you’re not overworked. now that bruce is gone, we’re making sure you’re on a better schedule” -dick

“HAH! we were all child soldiers and suddenly we’re setting bedtimes? y/n can stay out late, this is stupid” -jason

“as y/n’s legal guardian, i think it would be better if they went to bed a tad earlier” -alfred

“you guys are messing with me” -you

“maybe a little” -alfred

you loved the belfry honestly

sometimes you’d pass out on the couch watching tv and one of the batsibs would “tuck you in” and take pictures

you and jason like to play the racing game together to beat the high score

“ohhh my god. we’re never gonna beat bruces score” -you

“do you think it’s wrong to try to beat a dead man’s high score?” -jason

“you tell me, would you be mad if i beat your high score when you were dead?” -you

“i’d be mad if you beat my high score in general” -jason

the crew telling you you’re “too young to drink coffee”

“if im old enough to fight clayface im old enough to have a cup of coffee” -you

“i mean, that’s a sound argument” -dick

“it’s a wonder you’re all standing after being raised by bruce” -barbara

“in y/n’s defense, i was drinking coffee when i was younger than them” -tim

“ohhh, so that’s why you’re so short” -jason

hourly check ins

“y/v/n, come in, are you alive” -barbara

“yes, i am alive” -you

“great! can you check out this warehouse real quick?” -barbara

“threat level?” -you

“uhhh, zero” -barbara

“booooo, i wanna punch something” -you

“maybe next time” -barbara

taglist: @summersimmerus //

[farmhandler]

lil prompt: wade gives logan and laura (and himself ofc) an at home spa day bc god knows they could both use it. (optional: with vanessa's help)

“I’m not good at this. Why do you keep making me do it?” Logan asked.

Wade sighed explosively, as though Logan's utter lack of interest in painting Wade's nails was a personal failing.

“Laura needs a role model now more than ever. How will you help paint her nails if you can’t even paint mine?”

"I think I could do a better job with my eyes closed," Laura said. Her eyes were, in fact, closed due to the cooling mask Wade had forced on her first thing when they'd come over. "Why do I have this on?"

"Your eyebags could give mine a run for their money," Wade said.

“She’s fucking eighteen years old," Logan said. "She doesn’t need my help painting her nails. And I'm pretty sure our 'eyebags' are genetic.”

“Then what about me, daddy?” Wade said, fluttering his lashes at Logan. Logan kicked his leg under the table.

Wade wasn't to be deterred. He wiggled his fingers imploringly, waiting, and Logan decided, fuck it, and he tried. Genuinely, really tried to paint Wade's nails, and paint them however he liked.

"Painting outside the lines," Wade said as he watched him make no attempt to try and keep the paint on his nail. "Your technique intrigues me, Peanut."

"Shut it. I've got this," Logan muttered. He finished painstakingly drawing a little star on each nail and then scraped away the paint around Wade's nail afterwards with tissues. He figured cleaning up this way was better than trying to be precise on the first try and failing anyway.

Wade kept a straight face the whole time. Then he lifted his nails and bit his lip, hard.

“Oh my god," he breathed. "What are those?"

"They're stars. The blue background is a night sky." Logan pointed the bottle at him. "You fucking do this shit with this tiny ass little brush. I'm not made for precision."

"You're telling me, sweetie. The edges of my nails are awful. They’re so bad. I love them,” Wade gushed. He smiled at Logan with genuine glee, and Logan felt warm all over in a way he fucking hated, because he'd been feeling it a lot more lately.

Then Wade’s phone rang.

“Can you answer that for me, sweetums? I’m currently very wet and trying to harden up.”

Shaking his head, Logan leaned forward and answered the call without looking. It was Vanessa, letting them know she'd found the LED lamp for the nails Logan had bought not knowing they needed a stupid lamp to work. Why they asked him to do this shit when he obviously didn't know what he was doing, he'd never know.

When she showed up, she also had a bunch of other shit Logan didn't want to have anywhere near him either.

"Sorry I took so long. I had to go to a couple places to find the lamp." Vanessa swept past Logan after tugging him down for a kiss on the cheek by the door and set her bag on the table. "You started without me?"

"Just some nail painting. And giving Laura's eyes a rest."

"My eyes are freezing," she said from the couch.

Logan sat down next to her, because it felt safer to do so. Laura hated this stuff as much as he did. Or at least he assumed she did. He'd never asked.

"You have any idea what all this is?" he asked her, once she lifted the mask from her face. Laura hummed.

"Some of it." She handed him one of the samples Vanessa had dumped from wherever she'd gone. "You should use this."

"Nighttime eye cream?" he read aloud. "And this is supposed to do what?"

Wade was sitting waiting for his nails to dry, so Vanessa walked over and ripped open the packet. She then dabbed the cream under his eyes and rubbed it in. When Logan tried to yank his head away, she grabbed his chin and made him sit tight.

"Come on, put up with it for five seconds," she said. "Trust me, you'll like this one."

The scent wasn't overpowering, which was a plus. Still strong, but that was most things. The cream had a surprisingly soft texture. Once she was done, he wasn't going to admit it felt kind of nice, but he didn't need to. Wade grinned at Logan like a loon.

"You don't have to look so fucking smug about all this," Logan muttered.

"You lost the bet, so I don't even need to pretend," Wade said cheerfully.

"Because you cheated," Logan hissed.

"And I didn't get caught!" Wade clapped his hands together, apparently deeming them dry. "All right, now let's get serious."

About half an hour later, Logan really was regretting letting Wade get away with cheating.

He had an itchy mask on his face, his hair was pinned back by a headband with kitten ears on it, and Wade could not look any more pleased if he tried. Logan had assumed the nails that needed a lamp to cure them were for Laura or Vanessa, but everybody insisted on putting them on him. So he sat there while these sparkly pink nails dried, and the facemask did whatever it was doing on his face.

Logan hated it, but Laura...Laura was laughing. She's been laughing. She thought Wade was funny, but Vanessa and Wade together really set her off. Logan had never seen her laugh so much.

Logan exhaled. Maybe regret wasn't the right word. And maybe he didn't hate it.

"You ready for your mud bath?" Wade asked, sitting down next to him.

"You'd better be joking, bub."

"Only slightly. I do have a hot tub that's been bath bombed with your name on it. And all the supplies I need to work on your feet while you do. Don't worry: I have fully and mentally prepared myself to pick the fungus out of your toes."

"Ew," Laura said to their right. Vanessa was in the middle of pulling her hair back to join the face mask crowd.

I'm not doing that, Logan almost said, and then looked at Laura, and Vanessa.

If he let the night end now, sure, he'd be more comfortable, but...well, he didn't hate all this.

The candles were nice. Wade had picked really subtle scents, and nothing too fruity or overly clean. They reminded Logan of his cabin, the one he hadn't visited in years. After a rain, when the forest surrounding it smelled heavy and sweet in a way he couldn't explain to anyone who didn't get it.

"Yeah, all right," he said. Wade looked surprised.

"You okay?" Wade asked, inexplicably. He scooted closer to Logan and touched his knee. "I really won't force you into it, if it's that bad."

"It's not." Logan touched his hand. Their nails looked completely mismatched, especially his. On his gnarled hands, the pink stood out badly. He lifted them into the light for inspection. "I could use a bath. You coming in with me?"

It was both a tease and a genuine question. Wade laughed, startled, still grinning that shit-eating grin.

"And fondle your toes directly? Absolutely."

Logan thought back to that kiss on his cheek. So he kissed Wade's cheek, and when Wade made a soft sound of surprise, Logan shifted his mouth a few inches over to Wade's.

Now Wade looked stunned. Someone cleared their throat behind them.

"No fondling," Logan said, rising to a stand.

"A little fondling," Wade said, finally recovering enough to speak. He leapt up and followed Logan.

[fluffyfantasticducky]

Pumpkin Spiced Laughter

☆ Pairing: Loki x Reader

☆ Synopsis: Loki and you have a date for pumpkin carving date for your first halloween together. But Loki's impatience and your indecivcess prove to cause a very fun distraction.

☆ Word Count: 1,439

☆ Notes: Loki is cheeky ler and both tease each other. I ended up more busy than I thought so it's shorter than I intended. I'm so sorry request nonny! By the way @lokifan2 also got this prompt request and did a fic for it so you all get two fics!

☆ Warnings: Short. Reader with anxiety-indecisiveness, mutual teasing, I guess... I don't know anything about pumpkin carving so I probably made mistakes.

Pumpkin Spiced Laughter

“Love please, we’ve been here for hours…” Loki begged. “It took you long enough choosing a pumpkin.”

“I know… I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I just want it to be perfect…!” you apologized.

Loki should be too surprised. He knew what he was in for when he asked you to date him.

After all, the second that question left his lips you looked like a deer in headlights, a million futures flashing though your head. He had been a villain, but he was so sweet, but he was a player, not that he ever treated you like a casual conquest, but he could grow bored of you, or you could grow old together and be happy.

It had its perks, dating someone so indecisive. You always showered him with little gifts because you could choose what you liked better for him. You were profoundly perfectionist to handmade gifts were as good as anything store-bought. It always meant you could always have an option for the next date when you chose the other one, which also meant there were certain next dates. Not to mention you always chose the most gorgeous outfits, even if it meant preparing from early on so you wouldn’t be late.

Not that Loki didn’t worry about it, and you had been doing better. The hours of dressing up became just one, the cascade of gifts turned to just one or two, and soon you found date ideas you liked better.

But still, on days like this, the old anxiety bug bites you and you’d take eons to decide. What started as a simple pumpkin carving date became a torture session to the impatient young god.

“Isn’t this one two small?” you had asked.

“It’s lovely, darling” Loki assured you as you looked at the pile of pumpkins you were going to choose. “But you can choose another one.”

“I don’t like the stain it had here” you pointed out.

“Alright… just pick another one.” Loki said, trying to remain calm.

“This one is shaped here like a cashew…” you whined and picked another one. “And this one has a sick color.”

“Darling…” Loki sighed after the first hour. “My legs are sore… the sun is making me dizzy and I’m getting hungry…”

“Sorry, sorry. I just want a good pumpkin” you apologized sweetly, and Loki regretted complaining.

“I know… sorry.” He sighed. “I’ll go wait in the shade; I can’t stand the heat.”

“Okay, I’ll catch up to you soon, popsicle” you promised.

Surely you took way too long to choose, but at least he took some cold drink and used the fan on your backpack to cool down.

“Hi, love, I found my pumpkin” you smiled proudly.

Loki wanted to point out that it was the “too small” pumpkin. But you paid and finally you got to get home.

“I can’t wait for the temperature to go down…” Loki sighed.

“Are you kidding?! It’s freezing” you whined.

“Not for me, love I’m sorry” he sighed. “I always thought I was weird, never imagined Frost Giant level weird.”

“I think you’re perfect just the way you are” you smiled. “I adore you.”

“Do you already know what you’re gonna carve on it?” Loki asked, knowing he already knew what he’d do, after all he was a master with his dagger.

“I’m not sure…” you admitted.

“Darling…!” Loki scolded you.

“I’m sorry, I want it to be special!” you whined. “It’s out first Halloween together, I want it to be memorable!”

“Love, at this pace it’ll be a Christmas jack-o-lantern…” Loki tried joking to keep his concerns light-hearted.

Still, Loki tried being proactive by helping you brainstorm. Scary faces were gruesome, funny faces weren’t for an important occasion, just shapes were lazy, portraits were too complicated, and it’d be too big of a chance of error.

By the time you arrived home, there was still not a decision made, and Loki sighed.

That’s how he got here. Loki was already done, his pumpkin already beautifully carved with a floral frame at the top and the bottom and all over the middle part with beautiful decorations of moments with you two and a lovely note, proclaiming all his love for you, which earned him “show off” scoffing and teasing. And in retrospect he worried he unintentionally added more pressure on you.

He even offered you to empty scoop up the guts to keep himself busy while you thought about what to do. And still, you didn’t know what to carve.

“I could do a Disney character.” You thought out loud. “But that’s also cliché…”

“Darling, please…” Loki begged. “I can’t believe I’m gonna say the following thing out loud, but I want to go watch a movie and cuddle you…”

You looked at him with a frown, tempted by that option.

“Please baby, I want it to be perfect” you asked.

“That’s it…” Loki huffed and pulled you in his lap.

“Eh?!?” you squeaked.

And before you could ask anything else, Loki’s fingers skittered along your sides.

“Whahahahat?!” you squealed. “Whyhy? Hahahahaha! Stop!”

“Oh dear, just helping to persuade you to make a choice” Loki purred into your ear. “My darling, if I don’t help you, the pumpkin will be rotten before you can even get the first stab in.”

“Nohohohoho! S-Stop! Hahahahaha!” you giggled as Loki kneaded your belly, making you double over in laughter. “This is cruel! Hehehehe!”

“Cruel?” Loki spoke softly, his finger squeezing your waistline and kissing your cheek softly, always wanting to make sure you knew he wasn’t truly upset with you. “My love, this is just motivation for our date activity, if anything I’m helping this date advance. Not to mention this is way more fun than watching you trying to decide.”

“Eheehee!” you squeaked. “Plehehehease! Quit it!”

“Remember when I begged you to choose something and it still took you hours, maybe I’ll take the same time…” he purred into your ear as he spidered up to tickle your ribs.

“Plehehehease! Nohohohoho morehehehehe!” you laughed. “I’m sohohohohorry! I’ll carve something!”

“You promise?” Loki teased.

“Yehehehehes! I promihihihihihise!” you begged. “I cahahan’t! Hahahaha! SNNNRK! Hahaha!”

Loki couldn’t help but burst out laughing at your snort. Anyone from his childhood would think that after years among humans he became insane and unstable. But reality was much simpler, he was just that happy and carefree with you.

No royalty pressure to be perfect and stoic. He could be silly, mischievous, and free without consequence as long as he wasn’t harming others, which became surprisingly easy. Humans were fragile, but a few lessons on human limits and psychological boundaries and Loki was allowed to be a cheeky prankster to his heart’s content. To him, being this joyful was the most logical outcome.

“Oh, my gods!” he laughed, holding you in his arms. “Alright! Hahaha! I think that was enough…”

“Okay, okay…” you smiled, panting and looked at you timidly as you finally caught your breath. “You win… You win…”

“Does that mean that you will please carve something already?” Loki asked with a smile, before his tone turned back to teasing for a second. “Or do I have to persuade you some more~?”

“No… I just…”

“Love, it doesn’t have to be perfect or flashy, it can be a little bit minimalist” he smiled, “even an ordinary design. The point is we do a fun activity together. Doing it together is special enough.”

You smiled at him and looked at your carving knife, playing with it indecisively.

“And if it helps, next year I can teach you to make more elaborate designs if you’re not too confident in your skill” Loki offered, playing with his dagger.

“I think I know what to carve” you smiled. “It’s not too crazy but…”

“It’ll be great” Loki cut you off, so you couldn’t keep feeding your insecurities.

You got to work, and Loki sat nearby, hearing the knife slowly work its magic and after a while, you called for him.

“I think it’s done” you announced.

Loki walked to sit beside you, and you were bouncing with prideful excitement. He couldn’t help but smile, but when you turned your little pumpkin around to reveal the design, he felt his eyes water.

It was simple design of two minimalist yet adorable cartoons of you and him with a heart crossed arrow referencing something he said when he got poetic-drunk… except it was a dagger and the little most lovely expression “1st of hopefully many years full of love and laughter”. He slowly picked up the pumpkin in his arms.

“Do you like it?” you asked softly.

“Darling, it’s perfect…”

| MASTERPOST |

[kismetologyy]

Uhhh

So🧍‍♂️

I'm back after centuries of decomposing and I've gotten a new idea

And you guessed it

It's about Legend

I don't have much to say

I've been busy with school and all, and it's been months since I wrote, so this could be really bad

So let's just start

Prompt:

The Chain & You are staying at Lon Lon Ranch for a few days to rest. But you got sick on the way here. Mistakes were made, comfort ensued.

Notes:

Nb!reader | Grumpy Leg | just some cute comfy fluff

Also mentions of puke and other icky stuff

Not proofread btw (and never will be cuz I ain't readin all that again)

The sun was high up in the sky, the warm rays of light setting everything into a calm environment. Malon was cooking up some delicious lunch while the Links were outside doing some farm work, enjoying the sun and the refreshing wind of the late morning.

It was a peaceful day for all of the Chain, for once.

Well, for almost everyone.

You were stuck in the living room, wrapped tightly in a blanket, accompanied by an old musty bucket at your feet.

You had gotten sick just before your arrival, puking right at Legend's feet, which for the record, made him avoid you even more now.

You had only felt that sick once just now, and Legend was unfortunate enough to be right in front of you.

"I'm not risking to have more of their dinner remains on my shoes!"

As Legend phrased it to the others, refusing to get close to you in a 5 meter radius until you were perfectly up and running again.

You felt better now, but he was still as stubborn as a mule. It was incredible to watch.

Warriors was one of the first to be done with his work, as usual. So he decided to give you some company until lunch was ready.

You had only noticed him after the couch gave in slightly under his weight.

"How's it going? Feeling better?"

Wars tries to shoot up a conversation as he's stripping his armor off for the day. You still don't get why he's wearing it while working on a ranch, with no monsters ever in sight.

You gave a meekly "yeah" as your response, which didn't make his mood any better.

Just as the conversation was about to turn awkward, Twilight and Time had walked in to join the waiting progress, conversing casually before heading over to check on me.

"Ya' good, kid?"

Twilight asked as he leaned over the back of the couch to talk face-to-face, still with his usual country boy accent.

After saying the same reply over and over again to everyone entering in the living room, it was lunch time.

Legend had arrived late, only walking in as the infamous pumpkin soup was being served. But no one bat an eye, since everyone could trust him to be the responsible one out of the younger bunch.

All went quiet after everyone greeted Legend at the table, with only very few of Legend's responses served to his travel companions.

All 10 9 of them were all over you. Even if you told them you were doing fine, they would see it as the apocalypse.

The ranch finally started to settle down, each having their free time to spend with either other members, or being on their own on the ranch on in town.

The sky was quick to turn dark, with a clear night sky as the first stars were appearing just now. You could only sit and watch out of the window as the moon shone over this era of Hyrule. It was fascinating how every era looked uniquely different from each other, but the sky always stayed the same, unaffected by the wars and disasters that stuck Hyrule over the centuries.

Aftera short walk on the ranch and being called inside again by Malon to 'rest', you sat back down on the couch, the couch already remembering the spot on the cushions where you had sat all day.

You had planned to sleep on the couch and maybe get some more alone time rather than share a room.

It was great staying with the Chain, really. But sometimes, enough is enough.

The couch moved as someone put their weight on it. You look over, and right next to you was Legend, staring forward like a statue.

It left you puzzled as to why he sat there so suddenly. Maybe he was the one person who knew you weren't sick anymore? It would only make sense, it's Legend after all.

"... alright?"

You could barely make out what we're the first words he said, but you understood his message.

"Yeah. I'm better."

You thought that was it with the daily interactions between you two, but he didn't move, nor did he say anything else.

It wasn't hard for you to read people, and you could certainly sense that something was up...

You both sit there in an awkward silence, listening to the chirps from various bugs outside. But the silence was quite comfortable.

"Sorry.."

Came a mutter from the hero, which was the last thing you'd expect to hear, and from him of all people. Was he apologizing for something for once? But it did feel like he really meant it, which made you feel somewhat better about ruining his boots a few hours ago.

Nonetheless, you were stunned as you tried to come up with a good answer.

"It's nothing. You dont have to apologize." Was the only thing you would come up with, which only set him back to his unapologetic state.

After yet another session of unbreakable silence, Legend grabbed the unoccupied blanket that was draped over his side of the couch. He got comfortable and laid down, probably not in the mood to sleep with the others either, which wasn't uncommon.

...

"Do you mind?"

He eventually breaks the silence, cause you were sitting too close to him, so he was unable to get his legs up properly.

"Right, sorry."

Was your only response as you moved to the end of the couch. With a soft sigh, Legend got comfortable and closed his eyes to finally rest.

Now your space was taken up, and neither of you wanted to get up and sleep in the same room as the other Links.

So now you tried to think of a solution, eventually laying on your side and trying to squeeze onto the couch with him, facing away from each other to avoid any uncomfortable situation.

You could feel him stir a little to make space, but he clearly wasn't happy about sharing.

The space was too cramped for you to sleep comfortably, but you didn't want to move, even if you had no choice.

So against your will, you got up from the couch and immediately laid down again, now spread out on the carpet right by Legend's feet with a blanket and pillow taken with you to the floor to sleep with.

It wasn't even a minute before someone broke the silence.

"Get up."

The hero that had taken up the couch was now up again, not at all pleased to see you sleeping on the floor like a peasant.

"I'm fine."

You wanted to stay stubborn and let him sleep. But you could only watch as Legend got up from his spot and grabbed your wrists, pulling you frim the carpet right to your feet and almost giving you another nausea attack.

You wanted to protest, but he didn't bother to give you a chance to speak.

"Don't you dare do that when there's clearly space. Ya hear me?"

You could only nod as he plopped you down, obeying him without second thought as you lay down for the third time in one night.

"But I don't want you to sleep on the floor."

It's like you read his mind, since he stopped right in his tracks as he was about to settle down at your feet.

"I can handle it."

"So can I."

"No, you–"

"You know I can."

After a quick round of back and forth, you convinced him to not sleep on the old ragged carpet of the living room. But what now?

You could almost see the gears turning in is head. But he eventually came up with something, which was by far, the dumbest thing he's ever done, and something that he will probably regret forever.

"Move over."

He tried to make this quick and easy, and you only followed his command as he pushed you a hit to squeeze in behind you, now between you and the couch.

Being the nice person you are, you gave him some of your blanket, and he surprisingly accepted.

It was an awkward situation, with Legend pressed against your back in dead silence, squeezed together to avoid falling onto the well-aged carpet in the middle of the night.

At first I was hard to even keep your eyes closed, but exhaustion slowly took over as your eyes started to droop.

But something ripped you out of your peace that made your heart speed up.

The veteran had draped his arm over you, holding you close as you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. It was heavy and calm, which meant sleep probably took him earlier than you.

But you knew he was a light sleeper, so without any resistance, you held onto his arm before exhaustion finally took you into a deep sleep.

♤————————

You thought you had rested well, but turns out it was still way too early, since the sun wasn't even up yet.

And you weren't the first to notice, since Legend's arm was gone from your hold, but he was still there, probably trying to keep some distance between your bodies.

You couldn't resist the temptation anymore, imagining his drowsy eyes and his hair all over the place. You shifted your body carefully, slowly turning over to face him.

He was already observing you from the moment he was awake, but there was another awkward stare between you two.

And man.

He looked even better than you imagined.

Everything about him looked more appealing than ever. Or maybe you didn't notice until getting so close to him.

...

"Morning."

You attempt to break the silence of the early morning, wanting to stay on good terms with him.

"Morning."

He replied the same way. He never was much of a talker in the morning, and you didn't mind it.

It felt strange comforting to lay there with him. It warms your heart at just how nice he could be.

But you didn't expect him to do such a bold move.

He was now huddled up to you again, this time with his face buried in your chest. You could see his blush reaching all the way up to his long pointy ears, and my god was he cute.

The comforting space you created only got better as he seemed to relax against you, with your hand now placed on his back to keep him there.

"Hey?"

You tried to get his attention, which succeeded as he looked up at you, his face still flushed a reddish color.

"Is it okay if I rant a little?"

Legend agreed without much interest, bringing you forth to start rambling mindlessly to him. It was almost therapeutic having someone to talk to. And it seemed like he really didn't mind, just wanting to hold onto you.

It's kind of funny, how the one hero that is always so tense is cuddling with you at this moment.

Both of you lay there in silence for a long time, almost falling asleep again from the little comfort bubble you've created.

Legend's face was burried in your chest as you traced some nonsensical patterns on his back.

But then both of you started hearing the creaking footsteps coming from the guests room, where the other heroes are situated.

Before you could even say something to alert Legend, he sprung up from the couch, almost tumbling over you as he got up.

He was up just in time, as Time and Warriors entered the living room area.

"Morning. Where were you two even? I didn't see you at all."

Warriors mentioned as he walked over, just being curious.

"I slept on the floor while [Name] was on the couch."

Legend lied right in his face, but you could understand that he didn't want to be seen cuddling with anyone.

"Protecting the ladies, are we?"

Warriors started teasing again, which immediately broke out into a bickering fight.

But Time was watching this conversation with a big smirk before stopping them from causing any accidents.

Time had come to the kitchen at night to get some water. And on the way there, he spotted the two of you huddled up together.

But your secret is safe with him.

It's not as bad as I thought it would be, and that's wonderful👍

Now that the children have been fed, I must dissapear for another 3 months.

Peace✌️

—♡