#what do you MEAN it takes her fifteen minutes to glance in the mirror. fifteen whole entire minutes?? and she does it twice???

[fencecollapsed]

the nature of working in musical theater is that every show a handful of songs will get stuck in my head for a month, and it's very annoying that one of the catchiest songs in Miracle on 34th Street is the most misogynistic

[covenofagatha]

But you're my stepmom! (Part 8)

Word count: 2000

Warnings: smut, oral, strap-on, blowjob, mommy kink

Taglist:@stayevildarling@i-just-cannot@hazey-g@buttercandy16@320viada@evilangels-stuff@rmaximoff@morganismspam23@aboutcustardcreams@sasheemo@rigglemethat@walkethisway@mommywandas@r-3-becca@harknessshi @ihaveawifebutwerenotmarriedyet @polaris-likethestar @ahintofchaos

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you say, rooting around for your clothes. You find your underwear (cringing at how wet it still is when you put it back on) and your pants (which make your sweaty legs feel even more gross), but no sign of your shirt or bra. Agatha’s already pulled her robe back on and is fixing her messy hair in the mirror. “Have you seen my–fuck!”

“What?” Agatha stops, turning to face you. 

Your face has gone white. “You took off my shirt and bra downstairs. They’re by the front door.” 

“Shit,” she swears. “Um, okay. I’ll go down and distract him. You go find a shirt from your room and then say you came for dinner since you left early yesterday. When he comes upstairs to change, you find your stuff.” 

You nod and before she leaves, she crosses over to you and pulls you into a kiss that leaves you breathless. 

“We’re not done here,” she vows and then runs downstairs. You quickly go into your closet and find the first tattered T-shirt you can. You’re able to find a new pair of underwear and a skirt as well. You ball up the pants and underwear you just had on and shove them in-between the dresser and the bed and hurry down the stairs right as you hear the door to the house open. 

“Hey, dad!” You say when he comes in, trying to slow your racing heart at almost getting caught. His wife was two fingers deep in your pussy not ten minutes ago. 

“Hey, sweet pea! What are you doing over here?” 

You glance at Agatha who is gradually backing over towards the front door. “I felt bad about yesterday, you know, having to leave early to help Wanda. So I thought I’d come over and we could all have dinner?” 

He smiles at you. “That would be lovely. Let me go take a shower and then we can figure out what we want.” He slides past you to go up the stairwell and the moment you hear his footsteps upstairs you breathe a long sigh of relief. 

“I think these are yours?” Agatha says teasingly, holding up the clothes she had taken off you. “Nice new outfit.”

“That was so close,” you laugh, actually not believing that you got away with it. The adrenaline coursing through you makes you want to keep being daring. “Get on the couch.” 

Agatha raises an eyebrow at your demanding tone. “What?” She asks carefully. 

“I said that I wanted to taste you.” You can hear the shower turn on from down here so you know you have about fifteen minutes. 

“Honey, your father is right upstairs.”

“And?” You saunter over to take her hand and lead her to the couch. She puts up no fight when you push her down and sink to your knees before her. “That just means you have to be quiet.” 

The corner of her mouth quirks up. “It’s so cute how you think you’re the one in control.” Agatha shuts up quickly though, when you suck a kiss into her upper thigh. Her robe has ridden up and you can almost see between her thighs. “Naughty girl,” she tuts. The mark also means that she can’t have sex with your father anytime soon. 

You weave your hands between the backs of her thighs and the couch and haul her forward to get better access. She moans at the abrupt movement and bunches up her robe at her hips. 

You part her legs and fuck, she is a mess. Wetness glistens on her thighs and her pussy is swollen and red, literally dripping. You can smell her. You just stare for a minute, transfixed. You had no idea you had this effect on her but now that you do, you will never be the same. 

“Are you going to actually do something or are you just going to stare?” Agatha bites out through gritted teeth and your breath hitches. 

“Do you get this wet for my dad?” You have no clue where that came from but all you can think about is her answer. 

Agatha actually whimpers. “No,” she rasps. Armed with that knowledge, you go back down between her legs and glide your tongue up the length of her pussy. You watch her through your eyelashes as she bites down on a finger to stifle her moans. “Fuck, baby.” 

She tangles a hand in your hair and pulls it gently. You make a noise that vibrates against her and her hips jump. She throws one of her legs over your shoulder to bring you closer into her and you can feel her calf flex against your back. You lick and suck and she lets out a guttural groan as you find her clit. Her fingers tighten in your hair when you scrape your teeth against it. 

“You’re doing so good for mommy, baby, you’re gonna make me cum,” she says hoarsely.  You keep doing exactly what you’re doing, furiously devouring her cunt, and a minute later, her legs tense and she cums all over your face. You let her ride her aftershocks out on your tongue, smirking at her struggling to stay composed.  

She curses and then pulls you up by your hair, giving you a bruising kiss and then licking her wetness off your chin. 

“Satisfied?” She says, a wicked grin on her face. 

“Not even close.” 

“Good,” she says, giving you one less peck before moving her legs around you so she can stand up. “I need to go put some real clothes on before your father finishes his shower. Don’t get into any trouble.”  

When she goes upstairs, you quickly run your shirt and bra out to your car and stash them in your bookbag so you don’t forget them or leave them lying around in another precarious place. 

Agatha comes back down wearing a hoodie and olive green sweatpants. The same sweatpants from the picture she sent you this morning. She sees you looking and she smirks. She reaches down and fists the fabric so it tightens and reveals a large bulge. 

Your mouth falls open, your cheeks flush, and your brain short-circuits. She’s wearing a strap-on right now. She went upstairs, found her strap-on, and put it on. 

It is impossible to think of anything else than her stretching out your cunt with it. 

You’re trying to form words but sound just won’t come out and she’s immensely enjoying it. 

“See something you like, sweetheart?” 

“Yes,” you finally manage to choke out. And then, with impeccable timing as always, your dad comes down the stairs. Agatha lets go of her sweatpants and gives him a smile. 

“Figuring out what we want for dinner?”

“Maybe pizza? Agatha and I can go pick it up,” you offer. Agatha hums in agreement, looking curiously at you. 

“That works for me. Let me go get my computer and I can order it.” He leaves the room to go to the home office. 

“What are you doing?” Agatha asks, eyebrow raised. You shrug mysteriously and follow your dad over to the table when he comes back with his laptop. You all get a large pepperoni pizza to split and a liter of Dr. Pepper. 

“It’ll be ready in 20 minutes,” your dad reads off the screen. 

“We should probably go now, just in case there’s traffic or it’s done early,” you say. Now Agatha knows something’s up. The Pizza Hut is only ten minutes from here and there’s never traffic by their house. 

But your dad doesn’t think it’s strange. Instead, he turns so he’s facing the two of you. “It’s so nice to see my girls getting along.” 

You bite back a wicked smile. If only he knew. 

The second you and Agatha get into her car, she looks pointedly at you. “Alright, what’s going on?” 

“What do you mean?” You ask, playing dumb. “I just want pizza.” You don’t say anything else so she has no choice but to start driving. 

You sit in comfortable silence for most of the ride until you tell her to pull over. 

“What?” She asks incredulously. 

“Pull over there,” you repeat, pointing to the parking lot of the K-mart that’s always empty. Sure enough, there’s two cars. She scoffs, but does as you say, pulling into a spot far away from anything. 

Before she can ask what’s going on again, you unbuckle your seatbelt and climb over the middle console and straddle her. She chuckles, hands finding her familiar spot on your thighs.

“You made me come pick up pizza with you all because you want my cock in your cunt? You’re insatiable, honey.” 

“You love it,” you retort, pressing your lips against hers. Like earlier, you don’t have a lot of time and she knows that too. She slides a hand up your skirt, pushing your underwear to the side to make sure you’re ready for her. 

“I don’t know why you even bothered to put underwear back on,” she says casually, like she’s having a conversation about the weather. “You’ve already completely soaked through this pair.” You blush despite yourself, still a little embarrassed by how needy you get for this woman. 

“Shut up and fuck me,” you tell her and she seems amused. She makes quick work of pulling her fake cock out from the waistband of her sweatpants, holding it with one hand while the other guides your hips onto it. You let out a long moan as you sink down on her. “Fuckkk.”

“You like that?” She pants in your ear, already doing the best she can to thrust up into you. 

“Your cock feels so good inside me, mommy,” you whine, putting your hands around her shoulders to get enough leverage to bounce up and down. 

“You look so pretty like this. My beautiful girl.” She peppers kisses on your chest, which flushes from her praise. You’re getting closer to the edge and she reaches down to rub at your clit. “Fuck, wish I could feel how you’re squeezing my dick.” 

Your rhythm stutters at the image of that and then you’re riding with a renewed energy, determined to put on a show since she can’t actually feel. “I love your cock so much. I’m gonna cum all over it for you.” 

Her hand that isn’t circling your clit wraps around your throat and you whimper. You didn’t ever think choking would be so hot. She leans in so her hot breath is against your ear and whispers, “Cum for mommy.” 

You have to bite down on her shoulder to stop yourself from screaming. She hisses at the feeling but never stops fucking you through your orgasm. 

You rest your head against hers for a moment, just enjoying the feeling of her inside you. 

She pats your hip. “Come on, we have to go pick up the pizza. Can’t have your father getting suspicious.” 

“Oh, but didn’t you hear? He’s so glad we’re finally getting along,” you remark, carefully sitting up and whining at the emptiness once her strap falls out. You move back to your seat and she smirks. 

“Why don’t you clean up your mess quickly?” 

You stare at her, a little confused by what she means, but you see her eyes flick from your mouth down to her purple plastic dick. You give her a knowing grin and lean over to suck her strap into your mouth. She groans, putting a hand in your hair, enjoying the way you bob your head up and down along her length. 

“There you go, good girl,” she says, very pleased. You moan at her words and the taste of yourself. When you finally come up for air, she pulls you in for another kiss. It seems that she also can’t get enough. 

When you’ve collected yourself and put your seatbelt back on, she pulls out of the parking lot and back onto the road to the Pizza Hut, one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the console. You reach over and lace your fingers with hers, your insides warming with how she smiles at you. 

[ether972]

A Safe Spot

Just Ekko and Jinx taking a nap together. Takes place sometime well after season 2. In my mind Jinx found her way back to Ekko after the whole "dying" thing... the details aren't important lol. Complete timebomb fluff because I literally need to see more of them.

Ekko was stretched out on the old, slightly lumpy couch, his arms folded behind his head as he tried to enjoy a rare moment of peace. The weight of the day hadn't quite settled yet, and he figured he had maybe fifteen minutes before someone—or something—demanded his attention.

But then, as if on cue, Jinx appeared.

Without warning, she flopped down on top of him, her full weight pressing into him as she made herself at home. Her cheek landed right on his chest, her arms loosely draped around his sides, and she let out a contented sigh.

"Jinx," he said with a half-hearted groan. "Seriously?"

"Shh," she muttered, squirming slightly as she tried to find the perfect spot. "I'm busy."

"Busy doing what?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, though he made no attempt to move her.

"Napping," she replied simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. She tilted her head slightly, her face now nestled against the crook of his neck. The warm puff of her breath sent a small shiver down his spine, and he could feel her body completely relax against his.

Ekko sighed in defeat, his hand instinctively coming up to rest on her back. "You do realize this couch is big enough for two people, right? You don't have to flatten me every time."

"But you're better," she mumbled into his neck, her voice muffled but unmistakably soft. "The couch isn't safe."

"Safe?" Ekko echoed, caught off guard. He tilted his head slightly to glance down at her, but all he could see was her blue hair spilling over his shoulder.

"Mmhm," she hummed, her voice quiet and almost shy. "You're safe. Like… I don't know. My brain won't shut up, and I'm always—" She stopped abruptly, her arms tightening slightly around him. "But when I'm with you, it's… different. Feels like I can actually breathe…"

Ekko's chest tightened, her words hitting him in a way he didn't expect. He didn't say anything at first, afraid of ruining the moment, but his hand began tracing slow, soothing circles on her back.

"You're safe with me, Jinx," he said quietly, his voice steady and warm. "Always."

She didn't respond right away, but the way she nestled even closer to him said enough. Her breath was warm and soft against his skin, her weight grounding in a way that didn't feel heavy at all. If anything, it felt… right.

"I don't remember when I started doing this," Jinx murmured after a while, her voice drowsy. "Laying on you, I mean..."

Ekko's smile softened, his hand continuing its slow, soothing motion along her back as her words echoed in his mind. I don't remember when I started doing this, she'd said.

But Ekko did.

Her words reminded him of that night—the one he'd never forget.

It had been a while ago now, in her old hideout, a chaotic mess of wires, explosives, and half-finished projects that mirrored her restless mind. She'd been standing on the edge of that propellor, a detonator clutched so tightly in her hand that her knuckles turned white. The sight had stopped him cold, his breath hitching at the sheer exhaustion etched into her face. She looked so small, so fragile—like a ghost of the girl he used to know. Her hair was cut, her eyes sunken, and when she glanced at him, the hollow, desperate look in them broke something inside him.

"Go away, Ekko," she'd rasped, voice cracking as if the words themselves cost her more than she had to give.

But he hadn't left. He couldn't.

After multiple attempts of his Z-Drive he finally managed to get her to listen. He sat cross-legged on the floor a safe distance away, talking—just talking. About anything and everything. His memories of Zaun, stories of their childhood, the ridiculous escapades they used to get into. He carried the conversation like a lifeline, hoping to pull her back from the edge she was teetering on.

Eventually, her grip on the detonator slackened. Her walls crumbled, piece by piece, until she was crying—sobbing—harder than he'd ever seen her cry. Between the broken gasps and hiccups, her words came spilling out in jagged pieces. About Isha. About Vi. About Silco and how "everyone who gets close to me dies, Ekko."

He hadn't known what to say to that. What could he say? He'd just held her as she cried, his arms tight around her as if he could somehow shield her from the ghosts that haunted her.

Eventually, her exhaustion had won. She'd laid her head on his shoulder, her breaths slowing, the tension in her body easing as sleep claimed her. Ekko didn't move, his eyes fixed on her face, taking in every detail—the faint streaks left by her tears, the way her lashes rested softly against her cheeks, the curve of her lips now free from their usual smirk or sneer. She looked different like this—quiet, calm, almost vulnerable. It struck him how rare this was, how long it had been since he'd seen her without the weight of everything pressing down on her. In that moment, she wasn't Jinx the loose cannon, the living storm. She was just her. Peaceful in a way he couldn't remember ever seeing before.

That night, as her soft breaths evened out against his shoulder, he'd made a silent promise to himself. Whatever it took, however hard it got, he'd always be there for her. Always. Even if she never believed it, even if she never asked, he'd stay. Because someone had to. Because he wanted to. Because beneath all the chaos and sharp edges, she was still the girl he'd once known, and he couldn't lose her again.

Jinx's drowsy murmur brought him back to the present. "I just… it's nice."

Ekko's lips curved into a small smile, and his hand stilled briefly before brushing through her hair again. "It is," he admitted, his voice soft. "Even if you're basically smothering me."

"Shut up," she grumbled, but there was no real bite in her tone. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, her nose brushing against his cheek so she could look at him. "You like it."

"Maybe," Ekko teased, though the warmth in his voice gave him away. His fingers continued their gentle path through her hair, untangling a few strands absentmindedly.

For a while, they just lay there in silence, the quiet hum of the room wrapping around them like a blanket. Jinx's breathing started to slow, her body growing heavier as she drifted closer to sleep. Ekko tilted his head slightly, resting his cheek against the top of her head. Her hair smelled faintly of gunpowder and something sweet, and he found himself smiling again.

As Jinx dozed, Ekko stayed still, his arms holding her securely against him. It wasn't often she let her guard down like this, and he wasn't about to ruin it. If being her safe place meant letting her sprawl all over him and nuzzle into his neck whenever she wanted, then he'd gladly be that for her.

After all, nothing in the world felt quite as right as this.

[miryum]

"The Box"

Summary: Detective!Jason Todd x detective!Reader based on Jake and Amy’s relationship

Series Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of violence (but nothing descriptive), guns and other police stuff

Series Masterlist

“I'm Lex Luthor.” A man strode into the precinct and rapped a fist on Damian’s desk. He was wearing a crisp suit and his bald head had been shined. “Detective L/n asked me to drop by.”

Damian’s eyes flickered up to the man before going back to his origami knives. He had found a new tutorial on YouTube that promised sharper cuts. “Mm, yes. The CEO who murdered someone. Spoiler alert: they think you did it.” He flagged down another officer. “Duke, can you show him to interrogation room C, please?” He waved to Lex and snickered. “Have fun in there.”

“Thank you.” Luthor drew his lips into a thin line.

A couple minutes later, Captain Wayne stood by Y/n as they watched Lex Luthor behind a two-way mirror. “What are you smiling about?” he asked.

“How uncomfortable this guy is,” Y/n replied. “I jacked up the thermostat, got the table all sticky, made one of the chair legs too short, and worst of all, I had Damian greet him.”

“What did you have him do?”

“I told him to be himself.”

Wayne shook his head. “Poor son of a bitch.”

Y/n glanced at her capitan before asking, “Why are you wearing a tuxedo? You look like Fred Astaire.”

“I take that as a high compliment, but I’m not off to sing the number one song of 1935, Cheek to Cheek, which was top of the charts for fifteen weeks and the following year was nominated for the Best Song Academy Award to The Way You Look Tonight.”

Y/n stared at him until she muttered, “I’m not even surprised anymore.”

“Clark and I are attending the opera,” Wayne explained simply.

“Ooh, the opera. Is it the one Bugs Bunny sings?”

“Yes.” Wayne turned away from Y/n and asked, “So, who's this?”

“Lex Luthor,” Y/n said proudly. “We have a clear motive, clear means, a nonexistent alibi, but the DA won't bring a charge because it's all circumstantial. If we wanna bring this guy down, we have to get him to confess right here, right now.”

Wayne raised a brow. “An interrogation with a ticking clock and everything on the line? I better call Clark and tell him I won't be attending the opera.” He pulled out his phone and began dialling. “There's someone else I'd rather hear sing.”

“Oh, damn!” Y/n covered her mouth appreciatively.

“Hello, Clark. I won't be joining you at the opera tonight-”

“Oh, sorry,” Y/n shushed herself. “I didn't know-” 

Wayne cut her off, saying, “it's under my name, W-A-Y-N…”

Y/n squinted at him and finished her sentence, “you were on the phone already….”

Wayne poured over the case file which stated facts, showed pictures, and other minute details. “You're right.” Wayne nodded. “He did it. But we have no murder weapon, no witnesses, and you really didn't find any usable forensic evidence?” He was doubtful that his best detective found nothing.

“The body was discovered rotting in Ocean View. It'd been rained on for weeks and chewed up by coyotes,” Y/n explained. ”The only other DNA other than the victim’s was some bear semen found in the hair.”

“Right. Who found the body?”

“Hikers,” Y/n replied. ”You're really just gonna blow past the bear semen detail?”

“I imagine a bear mistook the rotting corpse for a female of its species and had intercourse with it.” He waved her away. “Nothing I haven't seen before.”

“It isn't?” Y/n stared at him, aghast. “I am fascinated by your life,” she whispered.

“Let's get in here.” Wayne cracked his knuckles. “Start working this guy.”

“Oh.” Y/n clicked her tongue and crossed her arms. “You're gonna come in with me? I just thought maybe you'd watch from out here, you know, pull me out when I'm getting a little too hot, possibly?” She waved her hands around. “Call me a loose cannon. You know, classic captain stuff.”

“L/n, do you know what I miss about being a detective?” He answered his own question, “a good interrogation.” He clapped a fist into his open palm. “Breaking suspects down.” He lowered his voice. “Talking quietly and then talking real loud! Looking away and then looking right in their eyes.” His eyes flared at Y/n and then he leaned casually on the desk. “Leaning.”

“That was amazing,” Y/n gaped.

“So, can I join you?” Wayne straightened his cufflinks.

“Well, a lot of these techniques do work better with two people: you know, good cop-bad cop, crazy cop-sane cop, chill cop-ADHD cop. Wanna be ADHD cop?”

Capitan Wayne deadpanned, “I think you have that covered.” He turned away and said, “let's do this!”

Y/n strode into the interrogation room where Lex stopped fidgeting with his uneven seat. “Hello, Luthor.”

Lex hummed and greeted, “detective.”

“This is Captain Bruce Wayne,” Y/n gestured to Wayne who was brooding in the corner like a vigilante watching over their city. “He's a bit of a legend in interrogation circles. Hey, Cap-i-tan, who's the scariest person you've ever gotten a confession out of?”

“Abner Krill,” Wayne said. “He was known as Polka-Dot Man.”

Y/n’s nose scrunched up. “Okay, I thought it was gonna sound a little cooler, but whatever.” She clapped her hands together and sat down across from Lex. “So, shall we recap the night that Axel Granite was murdered? Friday the twenty second? I believe you were the last person to see him alive, correct?”

“No.” Lex raised a brow. “I'd imagine whoever killed him saw him after I did.”

“Ooh, nice dodge,” Y/n complimented and  leaned back in her chair. Finally; a challenge. “Tell us about Friday.”

“I had a late afternoon meeting.” Lex matched her stance, leaning back as well. He seemed relaxed- one leg was propped on the other, hands were loosely clasped on his lap, and eyes smiling. “A simple board meeting. It wrapped up around six o’clock, and Axel and I talked after. He had just wrapped up his last appointment.”

“And why do you have a doctor on sight?” Y/n asked.

“In case of any emergencies,” Lex answered easily. “We also take blood samples for some of the experiments we conduct at LexCorp, so we need him handy.”

“And who else was in the office?”

“My secretary and driver had gone home, and Cheryl, who‘s usually one of the last to leave, left early because her niece had a school play,” he explained.

“So it was just you and Axel? No witnesses?” Y/n hummed. “That's lucky.”

He shook his head. “Not lucky at all. There was nothing to witness. Axel just wanted to talk about firing one of our employees, Gretchen.”

“And that's all you discussed?” Y/n clarified.

“Yeah.”

“Nothing else?”

“Nah.”

“Zero other subjects were mentioned?”

“None. We just talked about Gretchen.”

“Right.” Y/n squinted at him. “And, of course, there's no way for me to check if that's true, because whoever took Axel’s phone wiped all of his calendars. Except…” She flipped open her notepad and sucked a breath through her teeth. “It was all backed up on his home laptop. Would you like to hear what he said the meeting was about?” She cleared her throat and read aloud, “Seven P.M. talked with Lex about-" 

“Missing equipment,” Luthor finished. Once again, he mimicked Y/n and sucked in a breath. “Ooh. Did I get that right?”

“Uh, yeah.” Y/n closed her notebook and said, “But ‘missing equipment’ hardly sounds like ‘firing Gretchen.’ So maybe you want to explain…”

“He thought Gretchen was stealing lab equipment. That's why he wanted to fire her.” He inspected his nails. “Any other questions?”

Wayne suddenly started chuckling. Honestly, Y/n had forgotten that he was there. “Boy, you really thought you had him with that one, huh?”

“Well, I…” Y/n’s mouth dropped open.

“And you got so excited for it… Let me guess, you, ah, practised the notebook flip?” 

“Uh, Captain, something's come up in the case. Can I talk to you outside for a sec?” Y/n interrupted. Once they were outside, she cried, “What the hell are you doing in there? You totally undermined me.”

“I know, and I apologise.” Wayne held up a hand. “But I'm executing a strategy.”

“Oh, really, and what strategy might that be?” She placed her hands on her hips. “Make Y/n feel like an idiot?”

“No, I want Luthor to underestimate you and fear me. I'll badger him with my superior intellect, while simultaneously belittling you. Once Luthor dismisses you as a threat, I'll leave you alone with him, and he'll let his guard down.”

Y/n glared at him and mumbled, “ If I didn't know any better, I would say you're describing smart cop-dumb cop.”

“Look, I thought you had him on the calendar reveal,” Wayne conceded. “But he was a step ahead. You got flustered, and I realised in the moment we could use this to our advantage.”

“So what do you want me to do, ask stupid questions?” Y/n shrugged dramatically.

“Stupid questions, grammatical errors, lose your train of thought, just ask him to confess.” Wayne listed on his fingers. “This is not a comment on you, L/n. You’re a brilliant detective. I only want to bring this guy down.”

“Yeah, that's all I want too.”

“So, the night of the murder, you met with Robert in his doctor's office,” Y/n reiterated. “Why there? Why not your office which is much better suited for business meetings?”

“He was preparing for the next day's appointments. By taking the meeting in his office, we saved time. And time is money.” He mimicked tapping a watch.

“Right, and did…” Y/n trailed off. “Nevermind. I forgot what I was saying. Come back to me.”

Wayne swept in easily, “now, we did a sweep of the room where you and Axel fought-”

“Talked,” Lex corrected.

“Right. ‘Talked.’ The entire room had been scrubbed. It had undergone industrial sterilisation to remove all traces of blood and DNA.” Wayne crossed his arms.

“It's a doctor’s office,” Lex reminded them. “Blood draws happen every day. Per law, we have to sanitise it.”

“Ooh!” Y/n butt in. “I remembered what I was gonna ask. Did you kill him?”

“No,” Lex answered calmly.

Wayne redirected the conversation back on track. “So, after you and Robert fought-”

“Talked.”

“You left the office, but you didn't take your car?” Wayne asked.

“I went to a bar, The Scotchman,” Lex said. “I didn't want to drive drunk, so I took a cab. You know, like a responsible person.”

“And you didn't have your phone?” Clearly, Wayne didn’t believe this story.

“I left it charging in my office and I didn't realise till I was already out of the building,” Lex offered easily.

“Oh, man, if I go ten minutes without looking at my phone, my pumpkin crop dies on my little farm.” Y/n shook her head sadly.

“This is not the time for stories about your digital squash, L/n,” Wayne said sharply.

“What does it matter that I forgot my phone?” Luthor completely disregarded Y/n’s comments. A look of realisation dawned on his face and he chuckled, “I had it on me, you could've seen it pinging off the cell tower.”

“So you took a cab to this bar,” Wayne narrated. “However, we talked to the employees of The Scotchman. Nobody saw you there.”

“Nobody remembers seeing me,” Luthor pointed out. “It's not surprising nobody remembers seeing me. The bar was extremely crowded that night and I spent my whole time in the corner talking to this woman, Helen.”

Wayne hummed. “Oh, so you say. But when we ran all the credit card receipts, nobody named Helen bought any drinks that night.”

Lex chuckled and held up a hand. “Trust me, Helen wasn't buying her own drinks.”

Suddenly, Wayne’s phone rang and he said, “I need to deal with this. Let's take a five.”

“Or…” Y/n suggested slowly, “I could keep this interview going solo.”

“Yes,” Captain Wayne said after a moment. Luthor regarded their interaction closely. “I'm sure that'll be, um… pretty helpful.”

Once Wayne had left the interrogation room, Y/n sat herself down at the table and smiled broadly. “I have some questions,” she said brightly. “What kind of car did Robert drive?” She flipped open her notebook and suddenly rattled off, “also, what colour was Helen’s hair, which night does the cleaning crew sterilise your office, have you ever been to where the body was found, when you left your phone at the office was it plugged into your computer or an outlet, did you kill him, and what did your cab driver look like?”

Lex rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. “This is a huge waste of time. But, here you go: Robert drove a Saab, Helen’s hair was brown, they sterilise on Wednesdays and Saturdays, I haven't been to Ocean View in twenty years, the phone was plugged into the wall, I did not kill him, and the cab driver had a beard and an earring… I'm sorry I didn't get his licence number.”

Y/n clicked her tongue and smirked. “Wow. Very impressive. You didn't even fall for my ‘did you kill him’ gambit.”

“Nope,” Lex grinned.

“Although,” Y/n tapped her chin. “It is interesting that you knew the body was found in Ocean View, New Jersey, when that information hasn't been released to the public yet.” When Luthor’s gaze flickered to her, Y/n muttered, “Got ya.” She laughed and said, “I can't believe you thought I was the dumb cop. I mean, Tim made me watch Planet Earth with the British narrator. I can tell you anything you want to know about three-toed slow-ths,” she said in a farcical manner. “I totally got you to say where the body was found, which kinda seems like something only the murderer would know.”

“Actually,” Luthor’ jaw twitched and he sat back. “Axel’s wife told me. I've been comforting her a lot lately. To help her through the pain.”

Y/n growled, “we asked her not to share that info, and she promised us she didn't.”

“Well, she's been distraught,” Lex said. “She might not remember.”

“Flimsy.” Y/n rolled her eyes. “So what did you mean when you said you hadn't been to Ocean View in twenty years?”

“My uncle has a cabin there. I would visit him as a kid.”

“So your uncle owns a cabin in the town where the bear-semened body was found. That is quite a coincidence,” Y/n commented.

“I haven't been there for twenty years. You can call my uncle if you want,” Lex waved his hand.

“Oh, we are.” Y/n nodded reassuringly. “So you might as well just confess now, or we can take our sweet time like the mer-jestic slow-th.” Her British accent came out once again. “Either way, we've got you.”

“We don't have him,” Y/n sighed behind the two-way glass. 

“Luthor’s uncle said he hasn't been to the cabin in months and he hasn't spoken to Luthor in over a year,” Wayne said, tapping on his phone.

“What about the neighbours?” Y/n asked.

“There's only one other house on that road and we haven't been able to contact the owner.”

Y/n poked her tongue in her cheek. “Yeah, but Lex doesn't know that. If we tell him the neighbour saw him that night, he'll crack for sure.”

Wayne glared at her. “You want us to lie?”

“No,” Y/n sassed. “I want me to lie and you to stand behind me and say, three ‘oh damns’ when I defeat him.”

“There will be no ‘oh damns.’” Wayne said, “we're not lying.”

“The Supreme Court said that we're allowed to lie in an interrogation,” Y/n argued. “Couple of days ago I told a perp I knew Selena Gomez. It had absolutely nothing to do with the case, but I can say it.”

Wayne shook his head. “What if Luthor never went to the cabin? Suppose you're wrong. Then Luthor knows we have nothing. There goes our credibility and our leverage.” He scratched his nose. “No, we need a different strategy. Admittedly, all this dental talk has given me an idea.”

Y/n barged into the room and announced, “We have a few more questions for you, genius.”

Wayne snickered. “Genius.” Luthor slowly turned to look at him. “It's funny when people call businessmen ‘geniuses.’ Especially male CEO’s.”

“I had to build my company from the ground up,” Lex said.

“That doesn’t make you a genius,” Wayne retorted.

“I have an IQ of two hundred twenty four.” Luthor smirked. “Does that qualify?”

Wayne’s jaw ticked. “Have you made any notable contributions to science? Have you discovered a new element? Building up a business hardly qualifies you.”

“My company has contributed to many scientific endeavours, thank you very much.” Luthor’s voice was tense and Y/n’s eyes flickered between the two men. 

“But were you the one actually experimenting?” Wayne pounded a fist on the table and it rattled. “We live in a society where CEOs take credit for the things-” A few moments later, Wayne was sitting in the viewing room and saying, “Apparently that’s a trigger for me.” His cufflinks were undone and his tie was loosened.

“Yeah, apparently.” Y/n handed him a glass of water. “So… now can we lie?”

“No. But you know what works? Making him confront his victim.”

“Look your dead friend in the eyes and say his name,” Y/n demanded, holding up a picture of Axel Granite.

Luthor looked at the picture. “Axel.”

“Okay, maybe say his full name,” Y/n suggested.

“Axel Granite.”

“His middle name's Holt.”

“Axel Holt Granite.”

“His wife called him Axe. Work that in.”

“Axe Granite.”

“Work it into the full name.”

“Axel ‘Axe’ Holt Granite.”

“Now say it with a frown on your face.”

“Axel ‘Axe’ Holt Granite.”

“Don’t blink so tears come to your eyes.”

“Axel ‘Axe’ Holt Granite.”

“Man, this guy is a good murderer!” Y/n cried once she and Wayne were back behind the two-way glass.

“There's got to be some way to break him.” Wayne rubbed at his temples.

Y/n’s eyes lit up. “Wait a minute. I just had an idea.”

Y/n held a guitar and chanted, “two, three, four!” She strummed the guitar haphazardly and started screaming loudly. 

“Yeah, I really gotta stop trying that.” In the viewing room, Y/n set the guitar aside, huffing out a breath. “It never works.”

“Tell us more about your relationship with Axel.”

Lex exhaled. “We've been over this a thousand times,” he said. “We got along well. I mean, we disagreed sometimes, but we had a good partnership.” Luthor smirked and muttered, “he never, for instance, skipped a party so he could micromanage me as I tried to do my job. That's what's happening here, right?” He pointed towards the two officers. “That's why you're wearing the tuxedo?”

“I skipped the opera, not a party,” Bruce said. ”It’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, it's the Bugs Bunny one!” Y/n piped up.

“And I'm not here to micromanage anyone,” Wayne frowned. “I'm here because I enjoy interrogating scum.”

“You don't think the fact that he skipped the opera has anything to do with him not believing in you?” Lex asked slowly.

“He believes in me!” Y/n defended before pointing an accusing finger at the CEO. “You're not interrogating us. We're interrogating you. Tell us about the missing equipment! If Gretchen didn't take it, then who did? Because we're pretty sure it was you. Honestly, it could have been any of your employees. They all have access to the storage room.”

“You know, it's silly, but, uh…” Luther glanced up at them knowingly. “I trust the people who work for me.”

“Captain Wayne is only here because I want him here,” Y/n said.

“Really?” He pointed at Y/n. “So you're in charge? And all these strategies have been your ideas?”

Y/n stuttered and then said after a moment, “the guitar thing was mine.”

“And you signed off on that?” He then pointed at Wayne.

When Bruce didn’t say anything, Y/n turned towards him and scoffed, “seriously?”

“I just feel bad for you,” Luther shook his head. “Your boss thinks you're an idiot; that can't feel good.”

“Alright, listen,” Y/n snarled. “You son of a bitch, you think you're smarter than us? You think you've gotten away with it? You haven't.” She wagged her finger. “Imma find something. One skin cell, one eyelash, one tiny inconsistency in your story, and you're gonna spend the rest of your life in prison. Everyone who loves you will leave, and you will die alone! And at that time, it will be your head that a bear has sex with!” A few moments later, Y/n was sitting in the viewing room and saying, “Apparently that’s a trigger for me.” Her sleeves were rolled up and she tugged at her collar.

“Yeah, apparently.” Wayne handed her a glass of water. 

“He just gets us so riled up!” Y/n complained. She furrowed her brows and stared at nothing for a minute before murmuring, “I got it. I got it!”

“He's not answering any questions,” Luther’s lawyer, who had just joined him, said firmly as Y/n burst into the room.

“That's okay.” Y/n grinned. “I have no questions. That's right. I'm about to monologue, son!” She snapped her fingers theatrically.

“You better make it quick,” the lawyer said. “You have eight minutes until I file a harassment claim.”

“Alright, let me paint you a picture.” Wayne strode into the room and stood in the corner, arms crossed, listening to Y/n. “Lex Luthor, CEO of LexCorp, has been stealing equipment from his own labs.”

“Why would I steal from my own labs?” Luthor asked incredulously.

“What’s the point of this?” His lawyer demanded.

”I'll get there,” Y/n held a finger up. “One day, I'm working late when my colleague, Axel Granite, surprised me. He found out I was stealing equipment and said he's gonna file a police report. My reputation could be ruined. We fight, and something in me just snaps, so I grab the first thing I can find and I hit him with it.”

“You still have no murder weapon,” the lawyer reminded her.

“I do now.” Y/n slammed a picture down on the table. “I found a picture on Yelp of the doctor’s office six months ago, and here is a shot that our crime scene photographer took of the same room two weeks after the murder.” She slammed down another photo. “Notice any differences?” she asked.

“We're not answering that,” the lawyer said.

“That's all right, I can just tell you myself.” Y/n shrugged before continuing, “the Yelp picture has six of these glass awards in the background, whereas this shot only has five. What happened to number six?” Y/n asked rhetorically. “Murdered Axel with it!”

“I didn't,” Lex glared.

“You lost all control and you bludgeoned him to death,” Y/n, true to her word, kept monologuing. “There must have been blood everywhere, but you got lucky. You never would have gotten away with it in your carpeted office!”

“That's not what happened.” Luthor’s hands curled into fists.

“Don't say anything, Lex,” his lawyer reminded him.

“And Cheryl would’ve heard all of the screaming but she was at her niece's play. Lucky again.”

“You're wrong.”

“You put Axel’s body onto a dolly and shoved it in the elevator. It's a miracle there wasn't blood everywhere.”

“That's not true!” Luther insisted.

“Now you're in the garage with a corpse. You panicked and left your phone in your office and you don't have your car keys, but Axel’s are in his pocket so you put him in his car and take off.”

“No.”

“You simply can't believe what you've done.” She fans her face dramatically. 

“No.”

“Luthor,” his lawyer placed a hand on his forearm.

“You're flustered,” Y/n placed a hand on her forehead, faux swooning. “You have no GPS, so you just start driving.”

“No!” Lex pounded the table.

“Lex! Stop!” his lawyer cried.

“Next thing you know, you're in Ocean Views, and it hits you: your uncle's cabin! He has a place there. You're the luckiest son of a bitch ever.”

“It wasn't luck!” Luthor shouted and Y/n’s jaw twitched.

“Yes, it was,” she laughed. “You got lucky at every turn!”

“No!” Luthor fumed, slowly rising from his seat. ”I knew exactly where I was driving, I left my phone in the office on purpose, I was in the doctor’s office by design, and I didn't use some glass award that any idiot would clearly see was missing. In fact, a cleaner had broken it a week before!” He leaned forward on his fists, rings shining fully in the dim light. “I made a rod out of lab glass, killed him with it, then melted it back down. It's already another test tube, son!” His face morphed into one of shock and he fell back into his seat. His lawyer’s eyes widened before rubbing him sympathetically on the back.

Wayne’s mouth dropped open and he mumbled, “oh, damn.” In a louder voice he repeated, “oh, damn.” Shocked, the police captain cried out, “oh, damn!”

Y/n spun her finger in the air victoriously. “And that is three oh damns!” she shouted out. In a whisper, she said, “I feel so cool right now. Like I’m in a fanfic.”

[urfavlarry]

—You’re the kind of person they write rock songs about

—modern!au Viktor x fem!reader warning. not proof read, might be OOC, swearing

part one || part two || part three

‼️A/N. if anyone wants to be added to the taglist for this fic, let me know!! ‼️

‘I need someome to show me the things

in life that I can’t find.’

With a loud thud, Powder burst into the room, stumbling over her own feet and nearly causing your morning coffee to spill all over your art project—a project due in just under a week. "Powder! Jesus—slow down!" you exclaimed, letting out a frustrated groan as you steadied your coffee mug. Taking a long sip to steady your nerves, you swiveled in your desk chair to face her, one brow raised in curiosity. "So, what’s got you in such a rush?"

Powder was practically vibrating with excitement, her energy contagious enough to turn your initial annoyance into amusement. "You know that café with the whole vintage, 80s vibe you’ve been dying to visit?" she began, her tone filled with anticipation. Immediately, your ears perked up, and your confusion began to shift into hope. “Yeah, what about it? They’re always booked solid. Did something happen?” Instead of answering, she squealed with delight and shoved her phone in front of your face. On the screen was a reservation confirmation—a table for eight at 12 o’clock.

Your eyes widened as you did a double take. “No way.” Checking the time, you saw you had exactly an hour and fifteen minutes to get ready. Without hesitation, you pulled Powder into a quick hug and kissed her forehead before running off to prepare.

As you enter the bathroom you decide to style your hair in the way you always did for special occasions. It was a routine you knew by heart, and the familiarity calmed your excitement enough to let you focus. Opening your chaotic closet, you scanned its contents and grabbed the first outfit that caught your eye. You layered it with accessories that reflected your personal style before glancing at the clock. "Forty-five minutes," you muttered, impressed with your speed. Thankfully, waking up early to shower and do your skincare routine meant you had saved yourself a lot of stress—a rare victory you silently thanked your past self for.

Powder, now pacing the dorm trying to think of what to get at the café, noticed you were ready and practically dragged you to the full-length mirror she had insisted on bringing to your shared space earlier in the semester.

"Wait! Stay still," she commanded, snapping a quick picture of the two of you. You struck a playful pose at the last second, making her giggle as she added the picture to her camera roll, no doubt planning to post it later along with the many already planned ahead photo ideas she had in mind.

Powder grinned and grabbed your hand, practically bouncing out the door as you both made your way toward what promised to be an unforgettable day.

Oh and unforgettable it was.

You arrived at the subway station and met up with everyone— except Mel and Jayce who decided they’d go by car since it was the best possible option for them as they were out earlier that morning and were just 10 minutes away from your destination.

Viktor was seated next to you while the others had run off to find a place to sit in the packed space which had been a bit uncomfortable since everyone was standing body to body and god knows how many pervs were lurking around. You absentmindedly scooted closer to Viktor, bumping into his cane which almost hit the person standing next to you before you luckily caught it. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry I wasn’t thinking straight— shit, is it damaged or anything? I’ll buy you whatever you please at that cafe, I’m sorry.” You stuttered out, earning a teasing grin from Viktor. “No harm done, but if you’re offering..” You breathe out a relieved sigh, chuckling sheepishly; “I mean I don’t mind getting you something. It could be like a thanks for listening to me and my band play.” And with that, it was settled.

When the train pulled into your stop, everyone spilled out onto the platform. Ekko stumbled dramatically, throwing his arms up as if he’d just escaped certain doom. "Oh my god fresh air!" he exclaimed, drawing laughter from the group. “Alright, let’s go," Vi said in a commanding tone. "We’ve got twenty minutes until our reservation, so move it, squirts, and Vik." She said, Powder flipping her off as a faint; “Hey! Why’d you leave Viktor out of your pathetic try at an insult?” could be heard as all of them climbed up the stairs ahead of you and the man mentioned.

The walk to the café was surprisingly quiet, save for Powder and Ekko’s chatter. Viktor’s cane tapped rhythmically against the pavement, a sound that seemed to echo in the silence. You fiddled with your sleeves absentmindedly, still replaying your earlier clumsiness in your mind. Noticing your fidgeting, Viktor broke the silence. "I heard you’ve been wanting to visit this place since the start of the semester," he said, his tone more observational than questioning. You looked at him, caught slightly off guard by his comment. "Yeah," you admitted, your voice softening. "I’ve always loved the vibe. It’d be a dream to play there, but it’s just one of those things that probably won’t happen." Viktor frowned slightly at your words. "Why not? You’ve got the talent. And, dare I say, a very charming personality. There’s no doubt you could swoon the manager over and into giving you a gig—maybe even by next week."

His confidence in you made your cheeks flush, a shy smile spreading across your face. "Viktor, you really have a way with words it’s truly admirable," you said with a laugh. "You know, you’re the kind of person they’d write rock songs about."

Before he could respond, you giggled and darted ahead to catch up with the rest of the group, who were now gathered at the café’s entrance. Viktor watched you go, a faint smile playing at his lips before he made his way over to where Jayce and Mel were waiting.

The café was a dream come to life. Warm signs flickered gently against the dark wood walls, and the faint crackle of vinyl played on an old jukebox in the corner. Every detail—from the checkered floor to the vintage records and trinkets on the shelves.. it all felt so unreal. The stained glass also added on to the whole vibe, the colourful glass reflecting the suns beautiful rays onto the floor, walls and even booths giving it that magical touch.

You couldn’t help but smile as you took it all in. Powder was already snapping pictures with her phone, Ekko leaning into the frame and striking goofy poses. Caitlyn and Vi claimed the booth’s corner seats, their hands brushing as they shared a menu. Jayce and Mel arrived shortly after, bringing the group all together.

The energy was vibrant, the table filled with overlapping conversations and laughter as everyone admired the café’s welcoming and cozy aura. Viktor took a seat beside you again, his quiet presence somehow grounding amidst all the noise.

"See?" Powder beamed, nudging your shoulder. "Worth the rush, right?" "Totally," you admitted, leaning back and savoring the moment. "This place is amazing." As everyone placed their orders, Viktor leaned slightly toward you, his voice low so only you could hear. "Do you still think playing here is just a dream?" His question caught you off guard. You looked at him, unsure of how to respond. "I mean... yeah? It’s not like places like this to just hand out gigs to random people. I doubt they’d want a rock band playing here anyway.. especially not college students.” He let your words sink in for a while before a small smile tugged at his lips. “Who knows. Sometimes you just need the right connections to make things happen.”

Before you could press him on what he meant, the food and drinks arrived, and the table erupted into excitement. Plates of waffles, milkshakes, coffee and a whole bunch of other delicious dishes were passed around, each one looking like it had stepped straight out of a retro diner ad.

Ekko was the first to dive in, immediately stealing a bite from Powder’s plate. "Hey!" she protested, smacking his hand away with a laugh. Everyone dug in and continued their conversations, you yourself indulging in a conversation with Mel and Jayce who were curious about your career choice and major which you were more then happy to talk about. They stared in awe as you explained how you met each member and how you all formed the band, Powder and Ekko later joining in and as did Caitlyn.

At some point, Viktor excused himself, disappearing for a whole 15 minutes but you decided to let it go, indulging in whatever topic your friends had brought up.

When Viktor returned, he wore an expression that was far too pleased with himself. You raised an eyebrow, but he simply shrugged and slid back into his seat, redirecting the conversation effortlessly.

The group lingered at the café for over an hour, soaking in the atmosphere and sharing stories. When it finally was time to leave, you felt a pang of reluctance but pushed it aside, grateful for the experience.

As the group made their way out, Viktor fell into step beside you. "You might want to keep your calendar clear for next weekend," he said casually, his tone light but meaningful. You frowned, confused. "Why?" "Let’s just say you’ll need it free," he replied cryptically, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

You wanted to press him for more details, but the others were already calling for you to catch up. The walk back was just as lively as before, Powder and Ekko bickering playfully while Vi and Caitlyn walked hand in hand.

All the while, Viktor’s words echoed in your mind, sparking a tiny ember of excitement you couldn’t quite extinguish.

The days that followed Viktor’s very vague message had you up and restless all night. You tried to keep yourself busy—between classes, band practice, and working on your art project, you thought you could distract yourself with but Viktor’s words lingered like a riddle you couldn’t solve.

Powder was no help either. “You’re overthinking it,” she said casually one night as you both sat in your dorm. “Am I?” you asked, strumming a chord on your guitar. “He tells me to keep my calendar clear and then refuses to explain anything. How am I not supposed to think about it?” Powder shrugged, lying back on her bed with her phone in hand. “Look, maybe it’s something cool, or maybe it’s just Viktor being, y’know, Viktor. Either way, freaking out isn’t gonna help.”

You sighed, knowing she was right, but it didn’t stop the curiosity from eating at you. Viktor was too intentional, too precise for this to be random. Whatever he had planned, it wasn’t something small.

By Wednesday, your patience had worn thin. After class, you spotted Viktor in the library, surrounded by notes and his laptop, indulged in his work. Deciding you couldn’t wait any longer, you walked over and slid into the seat across from him. He looked up, mildly surprised but not displeased. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He smirked, knowing exactly why you were there.

“You know exactly why I’m here,” you said, folding your arms. He raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. “Do I?” “You’ve been playing this weird game of mystery all week,” you said, exasperated. “Come on, just spill it already. What’s going on?” Viktor chuckled softly, amused by your little outburst. “You’re impatient,” he observed. “Yeah, and you’re avoiding the question,” you shot back, brows furrowed with annoyance.

Viktor’s smirk widened slightly, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Perhaps. But where’s the fun in revealing everything so soon?” You narrowed your eyes at him, torn between frustration and curiosity. “You know, not everyone enjoys playing your shitty guessing games, Viktor.” He leaned forward, resting his hands lightly on his cane. “And yet, here you are, thoroughly invested.”

You opened your mouth to retort but stopped, realizing he was right. “Fine,” you said with a resigned sigh, leaning back in your chair. “But if this turns out to be some overhyped bullshit, I swear to god Viktor I’ll smash my guitar against your head.” You said, of course not meaning the petty threat seariously since guitars were hella expensive but you definitely were annoyed.

Viktor’s chuckle deepened, the corners of his mouth twitching in a rare, genuine smile. “Noted. But I don’t think you’ll be disappointed rockstar.”

taglist: @skullmvncher @startingtoloveyou

© URFAVLARRY

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE OR COPY ANY OF MY WRITING TO OTHER PLATFORMS

I DON’T CONSENT FOR MY WRITING TO BE USED TO TRAIN AI 🚫

[engie-ivy]

(Lyall Lupin being a Good Dad for his anxious son in law😁 For @wolfstarmicrofic)

9th: Cosy

1039 words

Lyall goes to use the toilet, and ends up adopting a new son.

Your New Family

“Really, Lyall?” Hope places her hands on her hips. “We just got here!”

“Sorry dear,” Lyall says cheerily. “But that’s the price you pay for becoming an old man, very frequent toilet breaks. Besides,” he adds. “With all your fretting about not being late, we’re like twenty minutes early, so now’s the perfect time.”

Hope rolls her eyes, a gesture Lyall is all too familiar with, and goes to inquire whether their table is already available, while Lyall strolls to the restrooms.

When he’s relieved himself and walks over to the sinks, there’s a boy pacing up and down. Well, maybe he’s more a young man, looking rather handsome with his fancy shoes, crisp white shirt, fitted suit jacket and long hair neatly tied into a pony tail, but to Lyall, he’s still a boy.

As Lyall is washing his hands, the boy leans on the sink next to him, staring at his reflection in the mirror, while taking what seem to be calming breaths.

Lyall meets the boy’s sharp grey eyes in the mirror. “Everything alright, lad?”

“Ah,” the boy says, looking slightly flustered. “Yes. Yes, I’m sorry, sir. Please, don’t mind me. I’m just...” He gestures vaguely with his hand. “Anxious, I guess.”

Lyall smiles at him as he turns off the tap. “On a big date?”

“No,” the boy says. “Not really. I mean, sort of, I guess.” The boy makes a move as if he wants to run his hand through his hair, showing that he’s not used to having it tied up. He settles for tugging at his pony tail. “I’m meeting my boyfriend’s parents for the first time. They’ll be here in...” He checks his watch. “Fifteen minutes. Fuck.” He presses his hand against his forehead. “Pardon my language,” he says after a quick glance at Lyall.

“Ah,” Lyall says, as something starts to dawn on him. “And you don’t think they’ll be... nice people?”

“They’re the best people!” The boy exclaims. “Going by what my boyfriend has been telling me at least, they’re really great.” He shakes his head. “But that’s just the fucking- I mean, that’s just the bloody problem, innit?”

Lyall tilts his head as he dries his hands with a paper towel. “How so?”

The boy shrugs. “My boyfriend comes from this warm and loving family, and he’s really close to his parents. It’s important to him that I get along with them.”

“Right.” Lyall nods in understanding. “And that of course puts a lot of pressure on you.”

The boy sighs. “I’m just scared I’ll fuck it- sorry, I’ll mess it up. I mean, what do I know about bonding with parents? I couldn’t even get my own bloody parents to even like me, and they’re supposed to have been programmed to love me!”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Lyall says sincerely.

“He’s envisioning this whole future, y’know?” The boy continues, now letting it all come out. “Coming together for birthdays, celebrating Christmases together, Sunday brunches at his parents’ place... He’s picturing this harmonious, cosy family, and I sure as hell can’t offer him that from my side, so if his parents don’t like me, I’ll take all of that away from him.”

Lyall looks at him sympathetically. “Sounds like it’s really important to you.”

The boy looks away. “I just don’t want to disappoint him,” he says softly. Then he lets out a humourless laugh. “God, I’m sorry. I swear I don’t normally trauma-dump on strangers in the restroom like this!”

“No, no,” Lyall says. “I asked, so don’t worry about it, lad. And the fact that You’re so anxious only means that this guy really means a lot to you.”

“He means everything to me,” the boy says without a moment of hesitation. He smiles to himself. “I can’t even explain. I mean... if I can’t give him everything, if he can find someone who can, who will make him happier, then I want him to break up with me, y’know? Even if it’ll completely destroy me. It’s like.... nothing matters besides his happiness.” He shakes his head. “I’m probably not making much sense. I’ve honestly never felt like this before.”

Lyall feels a warmth somewhere in his chest. “You know, lad, all a parent want is for their child to be happy...”

“But I don’t know that,” the boy interrupts, before adding quietly “Mine sure never did...”

Lyall feels a surge of fatherly protectiveness wash over him, for a boy he only just met! “I’m sorry you had that experience,” he says, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “But take it from me, if they are indeed the good people your boyfriend has made them out to be, then that will be the only thing that matters,” he says firmly. “So if you love your guy-”

“I do,” the boy immediately says. “I love him so, so much.”

Lyall regards him fondly, gently squeezing his shoulder. “Then trust me, that will be enough for them. It won’t matter if you’re wearing a fancy jacket, or if you’re hair is neatly tied up, or if you let slip the occasional curse word. If he loves you and you love him, and you make him happy, then that is going to be more than enough.”

The boy gives him a grateful look. “Well, then I have nothing to worry about,” he then says with a grin. “Loving him is actually my specialty!”

Lyall lets out a laugh. “Sounds like you’re going to be just fine!”

Suddenly, the boy gives him a hug. Lyall is startled for a moment, but then easily hugs him back.

“Thank you,” the boy says, pulling away. “I’m sure this isn’t what you were expecting when you just wanted to use the toilet, but I appreciate it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lyall says. “And I’m sure your new family will grow to love you.”

The boy grins at him. “Alright, here I go. Wish me luck!”

“You don’t need it, lad.”

The boy chuckles. “If Remus’ dad is even slightly like you, I’m sure I’ll be fine!” And then he dashes out of the restroom.

Lyall looks in the mirror and smiles to himself. “I’ve got a sense that he will be.”

Now with a part 2!

Part 2: Your New Son

[dyeher]

Warnings: single dad! baji, preschool teacher! reader.

Notes: this one right here could be- I mean- maybe…unedited read at your own risk.

Keisuke is panicking.

He keeps glancing in his rear view mirror at his little girl who’s happily humming along to whatever is playing from her iPad.

She doesn’t seem to share the same bone chilling fear as him. His grip on the steering wheel is tight enough that his knuckles have gone white.

They’re fifteen minutes away from his daughter’s official first day of school and Baji is five seconds away from turning this car around and taking her to work with him.

She giggles in the backseat and Baji swallows a lump of emotion and sighs when it settles in the pit of his stomach like lead.

“You excited princess?”

Her little head bobs, her pigtails (and the giant bows tied around each one) sways with the motion.

“Words Kaori, remember to use your words,” he reminds her.

“Yes daddy,” she replies, eyes falling to her iPad once more.

Baji gulps when the gates to the school come into view. He takes a deep breath and pulls into the driveway. The parking lot isn’t full because he’s twenty minutes early. When he finds a spot however his panic mounts.

This is real. This is happening. His daughter is starting school.

“We’re here!” she squeals when she finally looks up from the screen. She wriggles in her car seat, clearly wanting out.

Baji frowns.

“Daddy!” she insists. “Let’s go! Let’s go!”

Baji wants to cry. “Okay, princess. Okay,” he resigns himself to being miserable for the rest of the day. Perhaps for the rest of his existence. This is where it all starts. With school.

He hoists her out of the car seat and grabs her backpack and lunchbox. Keisuke is extremely proud of the fact that he, Keisuke Baji, despite his questionable past, has raised a daughter on his own.

He’d had to learn to comb and take care of hair other than his own (a lot goes into having healthy hair apparently), accept the color pink (of which there were over fifty shades), pretend tea parties didn’t make him uncomfortable (it’s the chairs), wear glitter make up (glitter can never be cleaned correctly), sing and dance (he’s a performer but only for her) and of course, what self respecting father of a girl hadn’t perfect mani/pedis.

His life had taken a dramatic three sixty when Kaori was born. But there wasn’t a single day since then that he regretted. He loves her more than he can actually put into words.

Which explained why he was on the verge of tears as he fit his arm through the strap of her sparkly, pink backpack and wrapped his hand around her much smaller one.

On the steps leading up to the front doors stood Kaori’s teacher. He’d met you previously when he’d registered Kaori and even then, dressed in jeans and a t shirt you’d been beautiful. His panic subsides a little when you give him a small smile.

“Mr. Baji,” you barely spare him a glance and Baji might have been insulted if not for the way your gaze immediately drops to his daughter. “And you must be little Kaori,” you squat to her level and Baji’s heart stutters. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you! Your daddy has told me so much about you.”

“He has?” Kaori asks, and Baji lifts a brow at her when she turns to him with a skeptical look on her face.

“I have,” Baji replies. “This is your teacher Kaori,” he holds his breath as his daughter eyes you. Kaori Baji isn’t shy. In fact she’s one of the most outspoken kids he’s ever met. It’s easy to know when she dislikes someone or something because she has no problem pointing it out. It’s whether she likes someone or not that’s the real issue.

“Do you like tea parties?” Kaori asks, and Baji knows this is the million dollar question. One wrong answer and today could easily turn into a shit show.

“Oh,” you gush. “I love tea parties! Do you wanna see my tea set?”

Baji blinks, eyes widening when Kaori releases his hand and takes a step toward you. She nods and then as though catching herself she responds. “Yes, please.”

“Fantastic! But you’ll have to say goodbye to daddy,” you say carefully. “Is that okay?”

Baji’s breath leaves him in a pained rush. His panic coming back full force. He purses his lips, eyes glued to Kaori as she considers your request.

She turns to Baji motioning for him to come closer. He squats. “You have to go,” she says, and Baji’s heart shrivels.

“I know princess,” his throat burns, as he pulls the backpack from his shoulder and helps Kaori into it. “Will you be okay without me?”

Kaori gives him a look like she’s offended and Baji might have laughed under different circumstances. She frowns, stepping into his arms when he spreads them for her. Her little arms wrap around his neck tightly. Baji’s eyes close briefly, his heart thundering as he squeezes her. When he opens them he finds your eyes on him.

Kaori steps out of his arms. “I’ll be okay,” she confirms.

Keisuke glances from her to you and then back to her. “Okay,” he presses a kiss to her forehead, and stands. You stand with him and Kaori takes your hand.

“First days are always the hardest,” you comment.

Baji can only smile weakly at you as you guide Kaori deeper into the school. His daughter turns and gives him a short dismissive wave before turning her full attention on you.

Baji stands there long enough that the parking lot starts to fill up.

She’ll be fine he tells himself when he finally forced himself to leave. She’s a big girl he repeats as he forced himself not to think about what could be happening to her now.

It’s only a couple of hours, she’ll be fine.

[fanfictionstuff]

Can I please request Reader going on a first date with Yukio?? Finally someone that writes for ANE!! I'm so happy to have find you ❤ thank you!! ❤❤❤

Hi! Is this okay? It's my first time writing for Yukio 😅

You face the mirror, anxiously fixing your hair as you consider which outfit suits your date with Yukio. You’re weighing two choices. Is this dress too much? Normally, you’d reach out to your friend for input, but you can picture her teasing you, and you’re just not in the mood for that. 

Excitement bubbles inside you; you want to spoil this moment. After your first encounter with him, you developed a crush, just like every other girl in your grade. Now that he’s finally asked you out, it still feels surreal. Just as you’re about to resolve it with eeny meeny miny moe, you choose the dress. 

The walk to the cafe is a strange mix of feeling like it takes forever yet arriving way too soon. Am I too early? You glance at your watch and see that, indeed, twenty minutes might be too soon. But since it’s a cafe, you can grab a seat. If he asks, you can just say you haven’t waited long. It’s your fault for arriving this early. As the bell jingles when the door swings open, the scent of freshly brewed coffee blends with that of pastries. “_____? Oh, you’re here early," Yukio calls from a booth at the back. “How are you?”  

“You’re early too. How long have you been here?” 

“I've only just arrived." The barista raises an eyebrow, likely thinking that arriving fifteen minutes ago doesn’t really qualify as just getting here. 

You quickly approach the table and sit in the booth across from Yukio as he stands. “What would you like?” he motions toward the bar. 

“Oh, it's fine. I can buy my own.”

“No, I invited you out. Let me take care of it. What would you like?”

“A latte.”

“Do you want a sandwich? It’s nearly lunchtime.” 

“No, that’s fine," you reply, wanting to make sure he doesn’t overspend. After all, you can easily whip up something at home without the extra cost.

Yukio acknowledges your request and heads to the bar to place the orders. Moments later, he comes back with two plates, a friendly smile on his face. “I bought you this panini. I remembered that you like it.” 

He remembers what I like? You smile gratefully at Yukio, touched by his kindness. As he sets the plates down, a warm flutter fills your chest, appreciating his considerate gesture. Him knowing what you prefer really shows how much he pays attention to you. Never mind the fact that you’ve had lunch with him, Rin, and sometimes other friends, so it would probably be odd if he hadn’t noticed. 

"Thanks, Yukio. That's very kind of you," you reply, feeling a slight flush on your cheeks at his thoughtful gesture. 

Yukio smiles at you, leading to a comfortable conversation. “I can’t believe you’re top of our class while also managing so much work as an exorcist." You exhale and take a bite of your panini. “Honestly, I'm struggling to stay on top of my schoolwork.” Yukio raises an eyebrow, surprised. “I thought you were performing well in class. Would you like some additional help?”

Your eyes grow wide. “No, no, you have more than enough on your plate. I’m doing alright, but honestly, it’s a bit stressful trying to keep up with everything. You’re incredible, Yukio.” Oh no, why did I mention that? I really hope he doesn’t think I’m a terrible student now. If he weren't sitting across from you, you’d just bury your head on the table.

Yukio bows his head, trying to hide his blush. “I’m truly not, but thank you _____.”

After your conversation, Yukio kindly offers to walk you back to your dorm. “Thank you, I appreciate it," you respond, smiling widely as he holds the café door open for you.

"I had an amazing time today," you say with a smile as you both reach your dorm building.

"Me too," Yukio replies with a soft smile. "Maybe we can go out again sometime.” 

Judging by the confusion on Yukio's face, you probably look a bit more surprised than you intended. “No! I mean, yes, I’d really love that.” 

A strange silence envelops you as you look at Yukio, who appears to be worried about something. You don’t notice that he is scanning the area to ensure none of his fans are nearby.

“Can I kiss you?” 

“Huh?” 

“Oh! I’m sorry.” He bows. “Sorry, if it’s too soon-” 

“No! It’s not too soon. I mean, uh, yes, you can kiss me.” You fight back the urge to face-palm. Yukio gently cups your left cheek and leans in for a brief, sweet kiss on your lips. “I’ll see you later. Maybe tomorrow?” he asks, filled with hope. "Yeah, of course.” In a bold moment, you lean forward and press your lips against his for another quick kiss. “Okay, you can text me later about when you want to meet tomorrow. Thanks again, Yukio.”

As the door closes, you gasp in disbelief. You just kissed Yukio, and he wants to meet you again. Raising your hands, you try to hide your blushing cheeks.

Yukio stands silently for a moment outside your dorm until someone calls out to him. “Aw, was that my little brother’s first kiss?” 

“Rin!” 

[andynked]

@savagecuhnt // replying to meme

she covers her bare chest with her hands, twisting and turning in front of the mirror as she examines the stencil on her sternum. a cybersigilism piece she had admired from his collection. "I mean, I like it." she turns to face the artist, "what do you think? Is it sick?" she does a few movements, allowing him to see how it flowed with her physique and her other designs. "I think it's a good placement." It truly didn't matter to her in the end. She had a year, two tops before it fully faded out and she would need a new piece to cover the area. "I'm down to get it if you're up to do it." she offers the other a smile before heading back to his station, "I got the money if you got the time, handsome."

He stepped aside, allowing her to get the full picture while he stood back and looked as well. It only took three adjustments- including resizing- for them to reach a solid placement. One to his liking, and hers.

It took him years to accept that breasts were naturally asymmetrical, and thus made placements look uneven when they were perfect.

As she turned to him and asked his own opinion, his eyes glanced towards her chest, taking in each detail of the tattoo. Every point needed to fall just right on her, hug each curve in the best possible way and flatter her like an article of clothing- because this article could not be removed. "No- yeah, it looks great on you. It flatters you." once he had realized it indeed looked amazing, he found himself smiling proud at his work. Cybersilligism was a new trend, one that he had not had much experience with, but was eager to get.

A laugh fell from his chest as he took his own seat by the bed. "You better be, or else I already wasted stencil paper on ya," he teased. He knew just within a few minutes that banter was welcomed, especially due to the added tinge of flirtation. "Give it a few, let it dry, We can get it started in the next ten or fifteen."

A kind smile was given towards her as he turned back to his station to continue preparation. "You comfortable?" he asked after a moment, looking back towards her as he nodded at her body. "Do you need anything? I know I gave ya some covers but do you need anything else?" He couldn't imagine being on display like such, though some women were more open that others; then, there was the fact there was another male in the studio just two stations away.

You could never make such assumptions in his line of work, and so he had to check.

[callsignspark]

Mar[r]y Me - part 8.5.1

pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Mariella “M&M” Vertucci (fem!OC)

summary: A love story told through friendship, laughter, and food.

series warnings: 18+ minors DNI, discussion of insecurities, difficult family relationships, discussions of food and alcohol use, discussions of body image, conversations on what it’s like to be a fat woman trying to date in today’s society, extreme fluff, like soooo much flirting, warnings to be added as needed

word count: 4.4k

previous part | series masterlist | main masterlist

note: happy Sunday! this ended up far longer than I expected so there'll be some updates to the masterlist! thank you so much for your patience, I know it's been a while since the last part. love you all.

part 8.5.1 - snacks and SPF

Saturday, March 20, 2021

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Mary’s shoe bounces against the tile, echoing through the kitchen as she checks her watch again.

Ten minutes late.

“Things happen‌. Things happen! With the time zones and the technology. It’s still early for them!” She feels ridiculous talking out loud to her empty house. “Besides! Ten minutes is nothing! There’s probably just a problem with a satellite somewhere!”

The self-soothing does little to calm her nerves. She knows what happens during deployments; she’s seen the aftermath of the accidents that can happen. Fatal mistakes occurring in a nanosecond unable to be reversed. Part of her last job was to analyze the charred piles that used to make up a fighter jet, ignoring the brown stains splattered on the metal.

“No.” Mary shakes her head so hard she feels lightheaded. “We will not go down that road. Everything is fine until you are told it’s not. Everything is fine. He’s just late.”

She slides off the barstool, trying to work out the anxious energy with laps around the living room, her shoes clicking with each step. Mary catches sight of herself in the entryway mirror and frowns; all the effort she put into getting ready feels stupid now. The outfit, the heels, the carefully styled hair, the makeup that took an hour.

“You’re trying too hard.” She lightly scolds, frowning at the curls starting to lose their shape.

“But he’ll appreciate it.” She argues with herself, knowing that Bradley will be happy to see her wearing the replacement sweater he bought. He won’t see the tight jeans and heeled boots she decided to wear with it, but those aren’t for him. They’re for her, a little boost in her confidence.

The next lap takes her around the island, laptop and phone void of notifications.

Fifteen minutes late. 

Fifteen minutes late used to mean nothing; she used to love it when professors were fifteen minutes late. The excited buzzing of a classroom at the prospect of a canceled class. People comparing watches, phones, laptops, anything that could tell time, giggling as they discussed what to do with an unexpected hour of freedom. Now, it feels like the complete opposite. Dread filling her stomach like bad news is going to appear at her front door any second, the same way a tenured Ph.D. waltzing through the lecture hall doors at the last minute dashed all hopes of escape.

Mary is so distracted by trying to erase the bad thoughts swirling that she misses the silver car pulling into the driveway. She doesn’t notice the sound of the car door closing or the person walking to her front door, only pulled from the impending spiral by the doorbell ringing.

“Who the fuck…” One last wistful glance at the clock tells her the afternoon’s plans are probably dead.

Twenty minutes late. 

“Mav?” Mary can’t hide the surprise in her voice at seeing the older man on her front porch. “Is everything okay?”

“Can I come in?”

The lack of an answer sends a chill up her spine, and she silently moves to the side, letting the admiral into her home. He subtly looks around, taking in her colorful decor and sturdy furniture.

“Haven’t been here since you moved in; the place looks good, Mary.”

Her knees practically buckle at the use of her name; he always defers to her unofficial call sign or last name. The last time he used her first name was to introduce her to some visiting admirals from Washington. Something terrible had to have happened for him to show up unannounced on a Saturday at the same time she’s supposed to be video chatting with Bradley.

“Pete…” She croaks the name, nose burning with the urge to cry.

He turns around, face scrunched in confusion at the sound of his first name and stretching into panic at her wobbling lip.

“Everything is fine! He’s fine!” The shouted reassurance makes Mary flinch, years of therapy unable to eliminate the instinctive action completely. “Oh, jesus…”

Mav scans the room using the same quick-thinking senses that kept him alive for years in a jet, locating the tissues and swiftly bringing the box to the sniffling woman. His eyes are guilt-filled as he presses a kleenex into her hand, guiding them to the infamous pink couch.

“I’m sorry for yelling.”

“It s’okay.” Mary gives a shaky smile. “I’ve always been a bit jumpy.”

Pete bites his tongue as she sniffles and grimaces at the makeup that transfers to the tissue. Slider had told him in vague terms about the Vertucci family and how they’ve been less than supportive of their daughter, how that would be putting it generously. Bradley’s telling of how she spent her PTO during Christmas was more straightforward, a full picture forming as his nephew lamented a family he didn’t know.

“Officially, you don’t know what I’m about to tell you, and you can’t tell anyone else. Do you understand?” Mary confusedly blinks at him but nods her head in agreement. “The comms blackout got extended, and all the calls scheduled for the next week are being pushed out. All the recipients got notified, but when Laura went through the list to double-check, she realized your contact information had gotten entered wrong.”

“You came all the way over to tell me?”

“I was already out, and I figured you would be worried. And I wanted to make sure you were okay; I haven’t gotten a chance to talk to you lately and check on you. The first deployment away from each other is the hardest.”

“Oh- Bradley and I- we’re not-” Mary stumbles over her words, neck hot as she tries to explain.

“I know,” Mav gently assures. “But you will be; I know Bradley.”

Her heart flutters, not sure how to respond other than the bashful smile she can’t hide.

“And he would be embarrassed that I’m about to do this, but while he’s not here and it’s just us, I wanted to ask that you take care of him. Bradley means everything to me; he’s my kid, and I know how much he cares about you. You’ve both had some hard times, and I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Slider had given her a similar talk before he left town. Bradley has such an incredible support system, with so many people who care about him, but it hurts her heart that she’s not close enough with her family to get the same treatment. She’s never brought anyone home, and none of her relatives ever bother to visit, the distance too far. Her parents had briefly - and accidentally - met the one boyfriend she had in college, an excruciating experience that had been the catalyst for their breakup. Since then, no one has seen Vertuccis in anything except pictures.

“I will, Pete. I don’t ever want to hurt him.”

The I love him is left unsaid, but she’s pretty sure Mav reads between the lines, clocking the hearts in her eyes as she thinks about the mustached man they care about so much.

“Good, and if he ever hurts you, just let me know. I’m old, but I still know all his weak spots.” Mav smiles at Mary's giggles, her eyes crinkling in laughter. “Okay M&M, I gotta get going, but stop by my office this week, and we’ll grab lunch. Also, Penny wants you to come to Easter dinner, so keep that in mind, and she’s having some sort of ladies-only thing next weekend that she wanted me to mention; she’ll probably call you tomorrow.”

“Okay! I’ll text her about what she wants me to bring for Easter.” There’s a moment of awkwardness by the door, but it disappears when Pete pulls her in for a hug. “Thank you, Mav.”

He squeezes her extra tight for a second, his throat thick when she presses her face against his shoulder just like Bradley does. “Any time, kid.”

Wednesday, March 31, 2021

Bradley splashes more cold water on his face in a futile attempt to calm down. He has to calm down. He needs to be in bed soon, sleeping and resting for tomorrow’s hops. But nothing is working. The shower was a failure, and so was a lap around the hangar deck, trying to let the salty sea air clear his brain. 

The communication blackout had been partially lifted two days ago, giving everyone access to email. Bradley had spent every available minute at the terminal in the Daggers ready room, catching up on twenty-nine days of messages from his family and Mary.

Mary.

Who had overwhelmed him with her sweet messages and silly jokes. Sending at least one email a day, keeping him up to date on work and the Dagger family in San Diego, occasionally adding a blurry photo of Mav with a caption reminiscent of a wildlife documentary. He had read the email from her birthday at least six times, staring at the photo she had attached. He couldn’t wait to print a copy of Mary snuggled on her couch, wearing the soft yellow sweater he bought and boldly spritzed with cologne. Her smile a little shy as she posed, just for him.

That’s not what got to him, though it’s certainly not helping.

It’s not the way she signed that email.

love, Mary

An echo of her birthday card, the addition of the pink heart emoji after her name making him smile.

It’s not how every email since has ended with the same signature.

Love. Love. Love. Love. Love.

And it’s not even that her emails have been slightly bolder. The content staying constant but with an extra something. It had taken a few days’ worth of updates to realize that she was being more blatant with her flirting, more open.

I’m always so hungry when I get home, and I just realized today it’s because you’re not here to bring me a turkey sandwich. I miss you and your thoughtfulness.

had girls’ night tonight - Aaron joined us - and we put Skyfall on for background noise. thought about you the whole time… I was so stupid to kick you out that night. I think that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. I’ll never understand how you forgave me, but I’m so glad you did.

should have stolen your flight school sweatshirt before you left. mine just isn’t as comfy.

He almost broke at the attached photo of her in bed, pouting at the camera with her lush pink lips and big brown eyes as the collar of her almost identical sweatshirt dipped to show off her freckled shoulder that was just begging to be kissed.

All of that? All of that was manageable.

So what exactly sent Lieutenant Commander Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw into a tizzy?

Carefully packaged cookies and a slightly blurry polaroid.

Today’s mail call brought care packages for all twelve members of the Dagger Squad, lovingly packed and sent by Mary, Danielle, Aaron, Kristina, and Flora. All the packages were the same, with identical toiletries, socks, sunscreen, and snacks from Costco, plus a note signed by the San Diego crew. The married Daggers had extra goodies and personal letters from their spouse.

The mood had risen exponentially since the boxes were dropped in their ready room; the midway point of deployment is always the hardest. But spending the evening playing the card game in Logan’s box put smiles on everyone’s faces. Even Jake, moping that there was no note from Flora in his box, laughed as Bob easily won three times in a row.

The crew slowly trickled out, returning to their bunks as it got closer to bedtime, but Bradley hung around, waiting until he was alone to open the last part of his box. The smaller box his note told him was just for him, Mary’s swirling signature below the instruction. He was glad to watch Mickey and Reuben leave, the latter giving him a knowing wink, and waited an extra second before unpacking his treats to get to the bonus box.

The scotch tap easily peeled away and the cardboard tabs folded back to reveal a small envelope, a big bag of shelled pistachios, and layers of individually wrapped sugar cookies. He didn’t bother with anything else, immediately unwrapping a cookie and taking a huge bite. Mary’s sugar cookies are a weakness of his, thick but soft, and the sweet practically melts in his mouth. He closes his eyes to enjoy the taste of home, and a familiar scent wafts past his nose.

Mary’s perfume.

It’s coming from the envelope. An involuntary grin spreading across his lips as he brushes crumbs off his shirt, carefully sliding his finger under the flap. His smile growing as he reads the short letter, chuckling at the explanation of how she had volunteered to ship the packages so she could sneak his cookies in, and she hoped the perfume wasn’t too strong, but there had been some wine involved as the group influenced her to spritz the paper. His eyes widen at the last line.

Look under your cookies for an extra special surprise.

His leg bounces as he holds another envelope in his hand. He can tell what’s in this one, the polaroid shape distinctive through the thin paper. Bradley knows it can’t be the thing his brain immediately thought about. For so many reasons, he knows it’s not that. It doesn’t stop his heart from beating faster at the possibility. Just the potential has his ears burning.

“Whatever it is, you gotta look at it before someone else shows up.” He mutters to himself, feeling unsteady as he slides his index finger along the edge of the seal.

There’s seven photos in the stack. The first three taken during what he assumes was the care package night, everyone smiling at the camera, cheeks smooshed together. The fourth is his family, all of them smiling around the dining room table with a picture of him sitting at his regular chair, his place set like he’s just running late and not floating hundreds of miles off the coast of Japan. The next two confuse him. Pictures of the plants in his living room, a tiny bit of Maverick’s shoulder visible in the one of his pothos ivy.

The last one takes his breath away.

Mary, in her yellow sweater, smiling in the mirror on his dresser. Her smile is soft, with a tiny bit cheekiness shining through as she stands in front of his bed. She’s wearing the pair of light-wash jeans that hug her ass just right, the ones with a tiny rip on the left pocket.

“Fuck.”

The photo floats to the table as Bradley scrubs at his eyes. A fully clothed photo is going to get him hard just because it’s Mary, and she’s standing in his bedroom. For the first time since the blackout was lifted, he clicks the new message button, not caring what time it is for either of them.

Wed, Mar 31, 2021, 2125 JST from: b.brashaw@navy.mil to: m.vertucci@navy.civ.mil subject: you sneaky girl

Hi honey,

Seeing your name in my inbox so many times made me smile. I’ve read all your emails, and I’m working on a long email to give you my thoughts on the highlights.

I’m sorry I missed our call - I’ll make it up to you as soon as I can. Promise.

For now, I just wanted to let you know that I’m thinking of you - I’ve been thinking of you - and I’ll be able to answer your emails now, but don’t stop sending them. I want to hear from you whenever you want to tell me something.

I miss you.

love,

Bradley

p.s. Mariella Vertucci, what the hell are you doing in my bedroom without me?

Wed, Mar 31, 2021, 2131 JST from: m.vertucci@navy.civ.mil to: b.brashaw@navy.mil subject: you sneaky girl

bradley!!

it’s so good to see your words!! (I would say hear your voice, but you know)

you got your package!! do you need anything else? I can send it with priority shipping if you do.

don’t worry about the call; Mav let me know what happened. I was sad I didn’t get to see you, but things happen. I know what this life is like. we’ll get to talk when the timing works out, and until then, I’m happy to read your words.

I can’t wait to hear your thoughts! please tell me March 17th is on your highlight list, I’m pretty sure Cyclone is *still* mad at Mav from the way your uncle is avoiding him. speaking of uncle, the other one (tall one) (Slider) (I now have to differentiate because Pete introduced me to a bunch of class of ‘86 uncles last week. why are they all so tall? Mav excluded, of course.) is going to be in town in a few weeks. might ask him for a copy of that baby photo so I can put it on my desk.

I’m thinking of you, too. probably too often considering how much I’ve been emailing you. I guess I didn’t realize how much we talk until you couldn’t instantly respond to me… now it makes hearing from you even more special.

I miss you more.

love,

Mary

p.s. your uncle (the short one) is hopeless with plants. why did you trust him to keep them alive for two months? Mav gave me a key (I hope you don’t mind, please let me know if you do) and I’ve officially been entrusted with plant babysitting duties.

p.p.s. your mail person keeps delivering mail to your box despite me calling. if you could check on the mail hold request you submitted, I would appreciate it. the lady at the Main Street desk is mean whenever I try to fix it.

p.p.p.s. Frank’s hip is healing nicely! did you know he’s not Mr. Hadcock? Eileen’s (Mrs. Hadcock’s name is Eileen) husband died about twenty years ago, and she met Frank on a dating site; it’s a sweet story. they want to have us over for dinner when you’re back. I said maybe - committing us to a dinner without talking to you seemed… premature. I promised to cook if that sways your decision.

p.p.p.p.s. your bed is comfy, might take a nap there this weekend when I drop food off to Eileen and Frank.

Wed, Mar 31, 2021, 2136 JST from: b.brashaw@navy.mil to: m.vertucci@navy.civ.mil subject: you sneaky girl

Mary, why are you awake? It’s almost 5 AM.

We did get our boxes! Thank you so much. For everything you got me, of course, but all the single Daggers, too. Everyone really appreciated it!! We’re working on a thank you for the five of you.

The cookies are incredible, by the way, they were in perfect shape. I think the individual wrapping was key. I don’t need anything else, you set us up good for this second half!

I still feel bad. As soon as I can bribe someone else - you’re getting a call. I’ve never been good at the email communication, but I’m trying for you. March 17th is on the list, how could it not be?! Who was there? Please tell me you didn’t meet Hollywood. Could you buy a bottle of Jack Daniels and give it to Slider when he’s in town for me? It’s for his birthday, let me know what I owe you.

I am begging you not to ask for that baby photo. You don’t ever have to buy me a present or anything ever again.

Your words make me smile, can’t wait to save all the photos you’ve sent me. And I don’t want us to be the people that argue about who misses who more, but I definitely miss you more.

love,

Bradley

p.s. Uncle Shortstack was supposed to trust Aunt Responsible or Sister Sass with plant care. I see that has not happened. Keep the key; I know you’re a good plant mom, trusting you with mine.

p.p.s. Adding it to tomorrow’s to do list. Feel free to sort through it and recycle all the junk. If something looks super important, open it and let me know. I know who you mean, and she is rude. Don’t worry about her, just keep grabbing the mail until I get this fixed.

p.p.p.s. Good to hear about his hip. I had a feeling they weren’t married, but I wasn’t totally sure, and how do you ask an elderly woman if she’s living with her boyfriend or her husband?? Dinner sounds good. If you’re cooking, it sounds amazing. Sign us up, tell them date TBD.

p.p.p.p.s. Now you’re just messing with me. But if you’re not, flight school sweatshirt is in the bottom right drawer of the dresser, remote is in the left nightstand. Enjoy my Netflix. We know I’m not.

Wed, Mar 31, 2021, 2141 JST from: m.vertucci@navy.civ.mil to: b.brashaw@navy.mil subject: you sneaky girl

Bradley, just out of curiosity, what time do you think I get up for work? I’m literally always in before you show up at 6 AM.

happy to send care packages anytime; just let me know who needs what. no thank you necessary. (well, maybe a picture if you can swing it. lots of adults and kids are missing the Daggers around these parts.) thank GOD the cookies were okay. I was so scared they would be moldy and ruin your box!!! individual wrapping is the move, noted.

if you’re trying, that’s all that matters to me.

Cyclone’s face was so red Warlock was ready to call medical. or his wife. whoever would be more effective. I think there was even talk of SECNAV as a last resort. making a note for Ron’s birthday present, will even add a bow to the neck of the bottle, free of charge, for you.

there was a whole gaggle of ‘86 guys. I’ll have to give you a full breakdown in a separate email because it was a wild night. how can they drink so much? I lost count after the sixth (seventh?) toast. I had to pour Mav into the Jeep, and Penny and I dragged him into the house. (dramatized for effect, he did trip up the stairs, though. thought Penny was going to fall off the porch she laughed so hard.)

I have a small crush on Hollywood. he’s just so handsome. but don’t worry, he’s too old for me. I like guys who are three years older than me. any suggestions?

it’s so cute that you think that would incentivize me not to get the photo. look in the cardboard box, Bradshaw. I *love* buying presents and helping people I care about.

every time I emailed you a photo I also texted you, once you have service again you’ll get a ton of texts from me. sorry. you’re right; we don’t want to be those people. but I want to point out that we’re not arguing. I’m clearly correct here.

love,

Mary

p.s. he’s trying his best! (probably? might be too afraid of Cyclone to remember things. plus, he’s kinda old.) (Mav, if you somehow see this, it’s a joke. you’re not that short.)

p.p.s. thank you! don’t worry, all the crap has been chucked already. I did stick the menu for a new Chinese food place on your fridge, we should go when you’re back.

p.p.p.s. she’s chill, but that definitely could have been a bad question. dinner will be confirmed, and we’ll discuss dates when you’re back. start thinking about what you want for dinner.

p.p.p.p.s. not messing with you on this. your bed is very comfy. (don’t ask how I know. Mav and I had a weird time at your place. it’s better to explain in person.) stealing the sweatshirt ASAP and I’m going to ruin your Netflix algorithm. will send photographic proof.

no more p.s.-es for now, heading to work. I’ll talk to you later. go to sleep, Bradley. dream of me.

Bradley stares at the last line for a while, not moving until the motion sensor timer turns the lights off on him. He showers, Mary on his mind the entire time. The cold air on the hangar deck just makes him think about cuddling Mary in his bed, snuggled together as she wears his sweatshirt (and only his sweatshirt) before offering to keep her warm. How she would laugh at his faux sleazy smile and pull him in, letting him run his hands all over her soft, curvy body. The freckled skin that would appear inch by inch as he slides the shirt over her head, kissing his way to her mouth, making two important detours along the way. The thought of how she might sound as she moans his name propels him to the bathroom sink for a dose of cold water.

“You okay, man?” Reuben’s whispered concern as he enters their bunk room is understandable. His hair is sticking up from running his hands through it, and his cheeks are red, his shirt splattered with wet spots from his aggressive attempt at calming down.

“Yeah!” He’s too loud for the room. Mickey twitches in his sleep, and even Bob, who usually ignores their antics, squints at him over at his book. “I’m fine! Mary sent cookies; if you don’t tell anyone else, you can have one each.”

Bob and Payback eye each other, silently agreeing to not ask about the frazzled state after the mention of Mary. “What kind?”

“Sugar. She said they’re unfrosted because she was worried about them going bad.” He distributes the cookies, leaving one on Fanboy’s shaving kit for the morning, before climbing into bed.

He flips and flops, trying to get comfortable before rolling to his right side. The low light from Bob’s bunk is just enough to see the photo from Valentine’s Day. Bradley lets his mind wander, not as far as before, just remembering that morning and their goodbye in the hangar, every moment in between.

The room goes dark as the WSO settles in for the night, but he can still see Mary. Her features are burned into his brain, her perfume floating in his nose from her letter safely tucked into the cubby above his head.

I’m never getting to sleep tonight.

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[l4ndon0rris]

Cruel Summer: LN4

part two

Pairing: Lando Norris x singer!OC Isabella Rose Word count: 2.6k + social media elements a/n: ty for the likes on part one, i'm just enjoying writing at the mo for the first time in a while so it means a lot!! lemme know if you want to be tagged for future updates and feel free to hop in my ask box with any thoughts ilu Part One :: Masterlist

Silverstone // July

The Saturday night of Silverstone was in full swing, Lando could feel a thumping of music vibrating in his chest and a constant sound of chatter amongst a crowd. His qualifying had been about what he had expected and though he needed to rest for race day he had promised to watch his friend’s set DJ set before he head home for the night.

 “I’m on right before Isabella Rose, I’ll be her warm-up, shall I?” Martin Garrix nudged Lando’s arm with a laugh causing Lando to stumble slightly as he lost his footing. His mind had shut off at the mention of Isabella’s name. Isabella was here, at Silverstone; Lando’s home race and he was certain that his heart was beating just as fast as it had been during his Qualifying session a few hours earlier. Lando never really paid attention to who played the shows over race weekend but he had never thought of Isabella playing. “Forgot you had posters of her on your wall,” his other friend Max had continued to tease, feeling a sense of accomplishment when he heard Lando’s adamant protests.

“Come off it, mate,” Lando had a smile on his face at his friends joke even if it was at his expense. Subconsciously, Lando’s feet had sped up pace slightly in order to reach the staging area in hopes of bumping into Isabella. “I never did message her,” Lando admitted quietly, a hint of regret in his voice. Lando had told both Max and Martin all about his meeting with Isabella, he’d relayed the night to them still with a hint of disbelief in his voice. Martin’s roar of laughter when Lando had told him ‘I gave her my flower’ was a noise that rang in Lando’s ears for weeks, the pair of friends could hardly catch a breathe between laughter and trying to mockingly play out the ‘romcom scene’ they now referred to it as.

“I knew you wouldn’t have the balls to message her,” still trying to push Lando’s buttons, Max shrugged casually.

Martin jumped on the train of childish teasing adding, “I’m tempted to see if she wants to be on that song I shown you last month, reckon she’d sound sweet singing those vocals…” Lando nodded encouragingly, a prickle of jealousy he didn’t understand flowed through his veins at the idea of Martin getting to spend a lot of time in a studio alone with Isabella.

Martin directed Lando and Max through a backstage area, stepping over wires and mingling through various crew members, Lando was eagerly looking around in hopes of seeing Isabella, his frantic search interrupted by Martin, “she won’t be down here ‘til near the end of my set, mate.”

Lando shook his head nonchalantly trying to act as though he hadn’t just been acting like a meerkat, “yeah, I know, I know…” Lando took a peek out from side stage to glance a view of a festival-like crowd that had formed in front of the stage. The sight of the mass of bodies made Lando withdraw his head with wide eyes, glad it wasn’t his job to entertain them. Wishing his friend luck, he gave him a pat on the back as Martin strode off confidently onto the stage taking place behind his DJ booth to the sound of a roar that was almost deafening.

***

Izzy sat staring at her reflection in the mirror, makeup artist trying their best to do intricate makeup work in between her involuntary movements as the hairstylist tugged her head into a sleek high ponytail atop her head. Getting a fifteen-minute warning from a runner poking their head into the small and chaotic room, she ran through her setlist in her head over and over in preparation mapping out some moves in her head. Both artists finally stopped working allowing her time to dress, opting for a race-appropriate look giving the setting. Trousers baggy enough to perform in had hints of black and white checker against the Ferrari red colour with a simple black crop to match. Izzy hoped that even those in the crowd who were not a fan of her music would at least give her some points for trying to appeal to the masses.

Side-stage was unsurprisingly bustling, being ushered into a position just off-stage Izzy could see the DJ currently performing, his electric energy matching his upbeat song choice. Silhouettes stood in front of her watching on, one must’ve sensed a presence stood behind as they turned over their shoulder and she was met with a familiar face and a familiar flutter erupting.

Lando’s luck had held out, stepping toward Isabella with a hello he couldn’t help but rake his eyes up and down her as she stood in front him looking completely different from the Isabella he had met in Monaco. Isabella then was a lot more relaxed looking an almost natural golden glow illuminated from her but now, she looked fierce and intimidating as she stood in stage costume. Lando’s gaze hadn’t gone unnoticed by Izzy as she cocked her head knowingly at him as his eyes made her way back up to her face, forcing a nervous giggle to escape his lips.

“Sorry, I just… first Mercedes and now Ferrari?” Lando hinted to the bright colour of her trousers, a click from his teeth suggesting his disapproval trying to save himself from the lingering gaze.

“I’ve been told I look good in red,” Izzy shot back at him confidently. The last time she had seen Lando he had left her in a puddle, admittedly he had crossed her mind now and then in the last few weeks but she had not come up with a viable reason to message him since. Clinging onto a glimmer of hope that she would receive an invite from McLaren in the run up to Silverstone but nothing came and Mercedes were always happy to host her. “I am back in the Mercedes garage tomorrow though, so it’s only for one night,” Lando’s face faltered at the news, feeling like the world’s greatest loser, which he knew a lot about considered he had lost plenty of races in his lifetime. Noticing his face drop similar to that of a sad puppy Izzy gave a dismissive shake of her head letting him know it was no issue.

“Maybe next time you can have one of my personal passes,” Lando suggested, perking up with a smile.

“Maybe I’m just not cool enough for McLaren,” Izzy mocked.

Earnestly, Lando replied, “you’re cool enough for me.” Instantly wishing he could swallow the words back into his mouth, that was the least cool thing he had ever said.

The pair locked eyes momentarily finding a sincerity in one another’s presence.

“Isabella, you’re on in two,” a runner thrust a sparkling microphone in hand.

“You get helmets, I get mics,” holding up her customised microphone proudly adorned with a rose. “You gonna’ stay and watch?” Lando noticed Isabella nervously sucking in her bottom lip between her teeth as she asked. A hand appeared from beside her to immediately touch up her lipstick, Lando now realising that their entire conversation has probably been overheard by everyone around – including Max - though he had been focused on only her.

“Yeah, I’m here, I’ll watch,” Lando grinned without hesitation, only afterward thinking of the repercussions of another hour less of rest before raceday. Isabella stepped forward from him stretching her neck and rolling her shoulders, she gave him one last kind smile over her shoulder before she tucked in her earpiece and flipped her hair over her shoulder. Side-stage she was Izzy yet on stage, she transformed; she was Isabella Rose.

***

Lando stood spellbound side-stage as she ended the set with a song the entire crowd sang along with her, Martin and Max had stayed and watched Isabella’s impressive performance with him, the three were included in the echoing of the song from side stage. Even if you weren't an Isabella Rose fan, some of her songs were inescapable and rightfully so. Izzy came bounding off stage toward them, Lando’s toothy grin had taken up most of his face, taking half a step forward before she was swarmed by various people. One was patting her down with a towel, another placing a straw in her mouth to top up her hydration after an exuberant performance, another was placing her microphone back in a case. Lando stood bewildered by the organised chaos and atmosphere that followed her performance, noticing similarities between their respective careers.

“What did ya think?” Isabella’s chest rose and fell rhythmically as she managed her breathing, Lando noticed her flushed cheeks and the droplets of sweat down the sides of her face. Isabella dismissed the entourage of people surrounding her, her commanding nature stirring something within Lando he swallowed with a gulp.

“That was pretty amazing,” Lando’s grin wide, mesmerised from watching her do what she was known for. He had never appreciated how she had earned her success and fame, and the performance was an undeniable reason as to why. Isabella’s white smile broadened across her cheeks at his compliment.

“I’ve got a song I think you’d be perfect on - got Lando to listen to it last month - if you’re free sometime you could listen to it, see what you think?” Lando childishly felt as though his toes were being stepped on as Martin thrust his way into the conversation.

“I’m pretty much holed up in the studio writing all summer: we can arrange something,” Isabella replied enthusiastically to Martin; she was somewhat grateful to him for riling up her encouraging crowd with his set. Lando was curious as to whether that was a professional reply she had repeated times over that would result to nothing or if she was genuinely interested.

“If you let Lando know where you’re writing he can pass the message on,” Martin slapped Lando on the back a bit too enthusiastically. Isabella noticed Lando’s eyes swell, almost bulging out of his head. She bit her lip to try and disguise a shy smile as she debated whether it was from the slap or from embarrassment from his friend setting him up. “Great set, by the way - I’ll catch you later, mate.” Max gave himself and Martin an out in order to leave the two alone backstage, Lando was yet to regain eye contact with Isabella after Martin chucking him in the deep end with his comment.

“It is late: you have a race tomorrow,” Isabella tried to save Lando from evidently spiralling in the moment; finding it quite endearing how nervous he seemed compared to what she had seen of him in media around the paddock. Her algorithm of late seemed to favour him as she endlessly scrolled with interview snippets. Lando finally looked back at Isabella, a glistening still stuck to her skin but her breath had steadied. “What if I told you I’ll be secretly rooting for you from the Mercedes garage?” Isabella teased him playfully, quite enjoying watching him squirm in her presence.

Something flashed across Lando’s eyes, mischievous hint to a smile stretched on his lips, “you can do better than that,” he challenged, his posture changing as he stood taller now. It was Isabella’s turn to be nervous; the way he stood had only emphasised the broadness of his shoulders and the width of his neck as their silhouettes stood in the hazy darkness backstage. The contrast to his boyish look of his face that she undoubtedly found quite easy on the eye and invited her in with every smile. “Say they catch you on the grid walk…” Lando paused, Isabella’s eyebrows knit together – she had been polite on grid walks before, always making time to stop and share her support of her host team. “I think you should publicly declare your support for me there,” Lando couldn’t contain the childish giggle that escaped him when he smiled watching Isabella’s mouth slowly hang open in disbelief.

“Are you trying to get me banned from the paddock!” Isabella exclaimed rhetorically, a hint of a smile trying to break through.

“Told you: can have one of my passes,” Lando reiterated his sentiment from earlier. “I dare you,” Lando encouraged, he could almost hear the cogs turning in Isabella’s head as she stared him down defiantly. He couldn’t help but notice her bottom lip once again rake between her teeth; a habit of hers he had noticed every time. A habit of hers that made him lose his senses every time. Her lipstick was mostly worn away, only smatterings of colour left across her lips his thoughts momentarily wandering to her lip being caught between his teeth.

Isabella had noticed his gaze lowered upon her face, her heart rate quickening similar to when she was performing in front of a few thousand people yet here it was solely Lando having the same effect on her. Gently, Isabella broke the palpable silence and inflating tension that had burdened the two of them, “you need to rest for tomorrow.”

Lando gave a curt nod, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “I expect to see some headlines after the race.”

***

WATCH: Isabella Rose calls herself a TRAITOR on Martin Brundle’s Grid Walk!

Lando’s race had been steady, nothing exceptional, but collecting points for the team was something to be glad of after a slow start to the season. He couldn’t help lingering around the paddock a little later than he usually would, disappointed he hadn’t even spotted Isabella throughout his day. He even doubted whether she had been there to begin with. Max eventually dragged him away from the paddock and managed to coax him back home for the night. Surrounded by friends relaxing, laughter and games Lando relaxed into the evening after another busy weekend, grateful that summer break was looming closer.

A sudden outburst from Max took the attention of the room, “mate, have you seen this?” Holding his phone out toward Lando allowing Lando to take it from him. His face flashed between disbelief, confusion to glee as he hit play on the minute long video on YouTube. Ria shuffled closer across the floor to Lando to peer over at the phone in his hands.

Isabella, lovely to see you again. Martin Brundle caught Isabella’s attention, her face smiling at the camera and back at him. Lando noticed how much more casual she appeared in comparison to the previous night’s outfit; she was like a chameleon adapting to her surroundings at all times. What have you made of the season so far?

It’s been great being able to see three great world champions battle each other so closely! I’m still hoping Lewis can pip Max to the post soon though… maybe today! Martin nodded along with Isabella’s notion.

You mention Lewis there… I take it you’re supporting Mercedes today? Martin probed. Lando’s eyebrows rose when he heard the question awaiting her answer.

Yes, I’m here with Mercedes today backing them, but I must admit I do think Lando Norris is a great driver – I sound like a traitor saying that! – but he’s great, he deserves a great car. Lando’s eyebrows couldn’t get much higher, he was convinced she had glanced at the camera as she said it, talking to him through the screen making a point of completing his challenge.

Great driver, great kid is Lando. Lovely boy, lovely boy. I must move on I’m getting yelled at in my ear… The video ended as Isabella gave a small wave to the camera and Martin walking away. Ria still on her knees on the floor, mouth open at what she was hearing; Max was sat looking over at Lando analysing his reaction. A nervous squeak escaped Lando's tight-lipped bashful smile waiting to erupt on his face. She had accepted his dare, he hadn’t expected her to, perhaps he underestimated her. Lando was already anticipating a comment from Max.

“Mate, you’re in deep with her,” as if on cue, Max poked at him. Lando shrugged it off not ready to admit it just yet.

“I’ve only met her twice!” Lando countered. His thoughts for the rest of the evening were distracted, trying to think of anything other than the glisten of sweat dripping down the sides of Isabella’s neck from the previous night. A pit developed in his stomach; perhaps his friends’ assumption was right. Opening his Instagram he searched her name: she had accepted his challenge and the ball was now in his court.

isabellarose never wanted love just a fancy car

Liked by landonorris, bellasroses and others

bellasroses: killed it as always!! So proud of you          isabellarose: ❤️🌹

landonorris: 🔥🏁           bellasroses: we see you           rosesforever: WHAT omg

rosesforever: this outfit is a SLAY

[bropunzeling]

i would like to know how alpha leon's interactions with the rat fam go after he's forced his way into matthew's room and they realize why he did that 🥰

It's 9 AM in Florida, and Leon doesn't know what he's doing.

Or—

Here is what happened:

Leon woke up at 8 AM to a missed call, one he half-remembered dismissing in his sleep. It wasn't the first time someone has called him from the wrong time zone, but the first time that it was Matthew. There was a voicemail. He listened to the voicemail. Then he listened to it again. A third time. The fourth time he heard Matthew say I want you all the fucking time in a tired, cracked voice, he stopped listening and started pulling up flights on his phone. He bought plane tickets at an extortionate price. He took the three flights that would get him to Florida fastest—Köln to Frankfurt, Frankfurt to New York, New York to Fort Lauderdale. He made it to baggage claim before realizing he didn't actually know where Matthew's house was. He texted Matthew. After fifteen minutes with no response, he found Brady Tkachuk's Twitter and Instagram and sent messages in both places while crossing his fingers. After giving more of an explanation than he wanted, but less than he expected, he got an address to put into Uber.

By the time the car pulled up in front of Matthew's place, all he could think about was the clip he'd watched ten times of Matthew stumbling around the ice; about how it'd been six months since he'd had Matthew's skin under his hands; about how Matthew said he wanted him. How maybe this time Matthew would mean it.

Leon really, really hoped he meant it.

He wasn't thinking about Matthew's parents, staring at him with obvious bewilderment as he tried to come up with a reason for being there that wasn't being in love with their eldest son. Or Matthew's sister, poking her head around a corner and watching him with a suspicious expression that was bizarrely scary in the way that only teenage girls could be. Or even Brady, pulling him into a quick hug and muttering in his ear, "It's fine. I got this. Go upstairs. First door on the left."

Then he managed to make it upstairs, and his entire world narrowed to Matthew, too skinny and too pale and fast asleep and everything, everything. It had hit him like a fist to the chest, how fucking important it was to be here. To know that Matthew would be okay. To touch the thin skin of his wrist. To breathe in his scent until it was all Leon knew.

Now, it's morning again. Matthew fell back asleep after they talked, drifting off halfway through a sentence. His head is resting against Leon's; when Leon closes his eyes, he can hear the whistle of his breathing, almost but not quite a snore. If Leon could, he'd never get up.

However, Leon really needs to take a piss. And shower. And drink half a gallon of coffee.

And say something to everybody else that's in the house, who are almost certainly wondering what the hell he's doing here.

Leon's no coward. Still, he takes his time pulling himself out of bed, lingering when Matthew murmurs and pulls on his arm. Takes his time in the master bath, too, cleaning the plane off of him and assessing himself in the mirror. At least his hair isn't greasy, but the bags under his eyes and lingering skinniness still don't add up to the kind of impression he'd like to give to the parents of someone he wanted to court.

Especially not when those parents include an NHL legend.

In a stroke of luck, said legend is not in the kitchen when Leon finally makes it downstairs. The only person there is Matthew’s mother, sitting at the kitchen island, sipping a cup of coffee as she looks at her phone. As soon as Leon crosses the threshold, she glances up and smiles. It’s mostly friendly. Mostly.

“You must be Leon,” she says, setting down her phone. “Would you like some coffee?”

Leon blinks, startled. “Um—yes,” he says. Adds, quickly, “Thank you, Mrs. Tkachuk.”

Matthew’s mom stands up and walks over to a cabinet by the coffee maker. “Please. Call me Chantal,” she adds as she grabs another coffee cup. “Cream? Sugar?”

“Ah—no,” Leon says, watching her pour and accepting the cup with numb fingers. "Thank you."

They both sit down, leaving a few barstools between them. Leon takes a sip of coffee. It’s too acidic. He sets it down, breathes in the fumes. Catches a whiff of Matthew—it is his house, after all—but what's stronger is the scent of lilacs, coming from only a few meters away.

Leon turns his head. Chantal has her chin propped on her hand, a focused, serious expression on her face as she looks Leon over. Leon can't help feeling he’s being tested for something, and he’s not sure he's going to pass.

"So," Chantal says. "How long have you known Matthew?"

Technically, Leon has known Matthew—known of him—for years. Hard not to notice the new omega on the Flames, early draft pick and unusually high for his dynamic—North Americans are so weird about that shit—grinning with all his teeth bared, watching Leon like it was only a matter of time before he'd find a way to tick Leon off. Unafraid to throw his weight around, unafraid to be flashy, unafraid to get in Leon's face and push, push, push until all Leon wanted to do was push back. So fucking annoying, so fucking irritating, but—it was good, too. At least Matthew would push.

And then in St. Louis, Leon had walked back into the room and sucked in a breath and his world got tilted on its axis.

That's probably not the answer Matthew's mom would want. So Leon says, "A few years," and hopes he sounds truthful enough.

"Mmm." Chantal's scent twists, becoming more intense. The lilacs are rotting.

Leon can't even remember the last time he felt this nervous. First game in the show, maybe. He can't shake the feeling that he's fucking something up, and he doesn’t—he can’t fuck this up. Not when he finally has it.

"I'm going to court him," Leon blurts out. "Or, I mean—I asked him, if he wanted to, and he said he, um." His ears are burning.

Chantal's eyebrows lift. The rot dissipates. "Oh," she says.

Leon swallows, hard. Fuck, maybe he shouldn't have said that, either. "Please don't tell him that I told you," he adds.

Chantal laughs. It startles Leon, making him jump in his seat, but it’s not unkind, or cruel. When she smiles at Leon, Leon can see the similarities between her and Matthew. The same wrinkles at the corners of their eyes, the same tilt to their mouths.

"Don't worry," Chantal says. "It can be our secret." She takes a sip of coffee, then says, "You must be starving after your flights. Let's get you some breakfast."

Leon nods, unable to get any more words out.

After he’s eaten, Chantal refills his coffee and sends him back upstairs. Now that he’s more awake, Leon can pick out the other scents in the house—Chantal; a mild malty scent he remembers from drinks at last All-Star Game; another that might be Matthew’s sister, curled up on the sectional looking at her phone. At some point, he really is going to have to talk to Matthew’s dad; more to the point, Matthew’s dad is going to know exactly who Leon wants to be for his son. He can't say he's looking forward to it.

But when he gets upstairs, Matthew’s still there, fast asleep. His mouth is half open, hair sweaty and stuck to his skull. When Leon eases onto the bed next to him, he murmurs, rolling closer, then wincing and rolling away.

"Hey, hey," Leon says softly, reaching out and grabbing Matthew’s hand, rubbing his thumb over Matthew’s knuckles.

Matthew’s face eases. He sighs. Scent uncurls between them, sticky and gentle and warm.

Leon leans over, kisses Matthew's hairline. The way he’s allowed to, now. He'd sit through a hundred awkward conversations with Matthew's family if it means he'll get to do that today, tomorrow. As long as he can.

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Cee!!!! Congrats (again)! You’re absolutely amazing and i love all these game ideas!

And I’m sorry, I can’t stop thinking about sending Pedro Boys to Shiv’s salon. I have to know, how would she (and Frankie) be with Marcus Moreno? Sure, he can be sweet, but the man has a playful edge to him that’s hard to deny 🖤

Shiv’s Salon: Marcus Moreno

Thank you for sending this request (and that hot dilf pic) in Cat, I’m so flattered that you trust me enough to send your man to Shiv 🥰 As I mentioned, I loved the dynamics between Marcus and his mum, and this pretty much wrote itself ❤️

580 words | warnings: meddling mother, harmless flirting, I only watched Marcus clips so apologies if he’s OOC

‘Are you single, honey?’

‘Mum!’ Marcus pinches the bridge of his nose and looks up at you apologetically. ‘I’m sorry. That was wildly inappropriate.’

You grin, putting away the layering shears. ‘I’m afraid not, ma’am.’

Mrs. Moreno clucks. ‘What a shame.’

‘No, mum, we’re happy for her,’ cuts in Marcus. ‘I’m terribly sorry about this.’

‘I mean, if I wasn’t -’ you trail off suggestively with a wink.

He chuckles. ‘You don’t need to flatter me. I’m already paying for her birthday makeover.’

Squeezing Mrs. Moreno on the shoulder, you say, ‘Alright, birthday girl, your hair is perfect, and Ashton will take care of your mani pedi next in our backyard spa.’

‘Thanks Shiv,’ the older woman gives you a kiss on the cheek before she follows Ashton out back - who brazenly winks at a visibly amused Marcus and mouths I’m single, call me as he closes the door behind him.

You tap Marcus on his shoulder as you meet his eyes in the mirror. ‘Something I can do for you while we wait?’

He shakes his head. ‘Oh no, don’t worry about it. I have to go pick up my daughter in fifteen minutes.’

‘C’mon, I don’t have any other customers right now.’

Marcus smiles at you, corner of his eyes wrinkling behind his thick black frames as he surrenders easily. ‘Ok, uh, I guess - can you show me how to style my hair? Like for a date?’

You rub your hands in exaggerated excitement. ‘Alright, mister, now we’re talking. What kind of look do you wanna go for?’

‘No idea,’ he shrugs and swipes at his untidy locks a bit self-consciously. ‘I’m just a single dad who struggles to even condition his hair - show me what looks good.’

Taking a fine-toothed comb, you trace a parting down the far right side with the pointed end, then you start combing down the hair so it sits tidily on his scalp. Marcus watches you in the mirror, attentive but relaxed, as you turn his face slightly to the left so he can see what you’ve done so far.

‘See how your natural hairline follows the sideburn right down to the beard to your jawline? I like how smart this looks.’

Brushing the pad of your index finger on his prickly facial hair, you feel his jaw twitch and a flash of heat under your skin. You arch an eyebrow at him, ‘Down, boy.’

He clears his throat. ‘Sorry.’

You wink at him. ‘You don’t want to get my boyfriend jealous.’

Marcus grins. ‘I can take him - probably.’

Moving to the other side, you show him how he should brush the rest of his hair and to tease a bit of height on his fringe with hair mousse. A couple of spritzes of hairspray, and you’re done.

Marcus stares at you intently in the mirror. ‘How did you do that?’

‘Do what?’

‘Know what looks good on me?’

You grin. ‘I’m old and wise.’

He teases, ‘You sure you’re not single?’

‘Save that charm on someone who actually is available, Mr Moreno,’ you reply in mock admonishment.

With a glance at his watch, he gets onto his feet and gives you a two-finger salute. ‘Appreciate this Shiv, I’ll be back with Missy to pick my mum up later.’

You give Marcus a wave as he walks off with a spring in his step that reminds you of Frankie strutting away from the salon when you cut his hair the first time.

You grin to yourself proudly. Damn, you’re good at your job.

Fuck Yeah 1.2k Sleepover

[oldfashionedmorphine]

If you’re seeing this first and haven’t caught up with chapter 16 cause you follow me DON’T LOOK YET!! (there will be a link at the end of the chapter if you aren’t caught up yet, so don’t worry 😉)

And if you don’t currently read my byler fic I’m a Wreck (Without You Here) …why not start? Give it a try, I might just make you cry ;)

Below the cut is a small POV of Will talking to Dustin :D

@across-thestars @boahey @magentamee @booksandpaperss @wheelersboy @sparks-olivarpente @greenfiend @castelobyers @daydreams-in-the-moonlight @total-serene560

😎

I’m kidding, I’m kidding!!

I just couldn’t help myself. I saw an opportunity and took it 🤣

Here you go! <3

——————————————————————————

Will catches Dustin’s eye in the rearview mirror. They shared a similar silent reaction to Mike cutting off the music. And again less than a minute later when he practically jumped out the car, because Will barely had put it into park. And by the time they both step out of the car, Mike was almost halfway across the street. But they don’t race to catch up with him, they linger behind, taking off their suit jackets and placing them in the car.

Dustin tilts his head slightly, then glances at Will. “Does he seem a little off to you?”

Good question.

They both watch as Mike slips from their view when he enters the bar.

“A little...”

Should he be worried? Will was only just getting to know Mike again. Overall he mostly seemed like an older version of the guy he used to know once upon a time. But there were almost fifteen years of bitterness that had kept them apart, so Will would be kidding himself if he really thought he knew him well enough to know better. It actually made him mad—mad because it was his own damn fault for becoming such a stranger to Mike. And Dustin wasn’t exactly wrong, Mike was acting a little off today. He started to notice it right after the burial service at the reception, but he brushed it off because it also made total sense to him—his sister had died and they literally just buried her. How else is he supposed to act? If it had been Jonathan, Will imagines he wouldn’t be acting much different at all. What Mike needs is time—time to process the loss. He’s bound to act a little ‘off’. Right?

“‘Course I don’t exactly know what else to expect from him…I mean, I’d probably be a little off too if Jonathan had died—maybe even more than a little off, actually.”

They both finally start walking towards the bar.

“True...I suppose…it was just a weird vibe I got.”

“Weird vibe how?” Will asks.

“Not sure. He seemed…I don’t even know—I’m not exactly best friends with him anymore—”

“And I am?”

“Hey, from my perspective, you two seemed all patched up and act like you’ve been friends this whole damn time—also another vibe I’ve been getting, by the way—I only meant that you’ve spent way more time with him the past few days compared to me, so I was curious about your opinion.”

After crossing the street Will stops walking, then Dustin stops too. “Well, l don’t have much else to compare it to…he’s still Mike, he’s…I don’t know what I’m saying—what I mean to say is, it’s been a long time. And what I do know, I could fit in the palm of my hand compared to what he’s lived through without me for almost fifteen years. I’m sure he could say the same. And maybe what seems off to us is normal for him. Either way, if I were in his shoes—if it had been Jonathan—I’d probably be acting no different than him.”

Why did that sound like a bunch of excuses? Because it was the truth. Will didn’t know everything. Which again stirs up an unpleasant feeling in his chest.

“Right…you’re right,” he sighs, “but I’m glad you both are friends again.”

“Yeah, me too…I really missed him—way more than I wanted to ever admit,” Will laughs. “But don’t tell him that though—it’ll go straight to his head.”

Dustin mimics the turning of an imaginary key over his mouth, then pretends to throw it over his shoulder.

Will uses the opportunity to change the subject as they start to inch closer to the door. “So…you ready to sing?” And then he reaches for the handle.

He groans. “Would saying ‘no’ would change my fate?”

“Nope…” Will opens the door, allowing Dustin to enter first before following him in. “It wouldn’t…you’re doomed.”

[hunk-never-dies]

Words That Were Never Spoken

A Valenfield Fanfiction

(Trigger Warning for Violence, Blood, and Graphic Descriptions of Undead)

Previous chapters in tags

Chapter 4

Jill sat in the passenger seat of Chris’s truck as he drove down the highway. They were still three miles from their destination, but Chris's speed would help them reach it quickly. She was anxious and nervous about getting to where the B.O.W.s were. One, there might have been innocent people in danger, and two, what if the mission went sour and cost her partner his life? As much as she didn’t want to think about it, perhaps Rebecca was right in talking to him. If it would keep him safe, that was all she wanted. Jill gathered up her courage and looked at Chris. He concentrated on the road ahead, occasionally checking his mirrors and passing people up who were too slow. “Chris?”

“What is it?” Chris asked, not taking his eyes off the road. 

“I want to talk to you about something,” Jill said, and he glanced over at her. His silence encouraged her to continue talking. “When I said I didn’t sleep well last night, there was a reason.” 

“Were you thinking about this case?” Chris asked, and he gave her a slight smile. “Even though I told you not to?” It was a friendly poke at her, and she forced a smile.

“Yes and no,” Jill said before she looked out the windshield. She breathed in through her nose and let it out silently as she continued. “I had this nightmare. It felt so real that I couldn’t sleep after I woke up. It,” Jill paused. “It’s still weighing on my mind.”

Chris was quiet before he spoke in a soft, comforting tone. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” 

“Can you promise me one thing?” Jill asked before she looked over at him with a serious expression. “Please be careful.” 

Chris looked at her briefly before focusing back on the road. “I’m always careful.”

“I mean it, Chris,” Jill said more sternly. “Promise me.”

“What’s this about, Jill?” Chris asked before he slowed to take an exit. He glanced at her again, his expression serious. “I won’t do anything that would endanger either of us. Especially you. You know that.”  

Jill felt a bit frustrated. Did he not get what she was trying to tell him? She wasn’t concerned about her safety; she was worried about his. “I know, but can you promise to be careful?” She tried to keep her voice calm but could hear an edge. Chris picked up on it as well, judging by his body language. He turned off the exit and took a side street. 

“I’ll be careful, Jill. I promise, but you need to be cautious too. You’re my partner, and I don’t want you getting yourself killed by going off on your own. We can’t trust our comms right now, so I don’t want you out of my sight. If you get into trouble and I can’t reach you in time-” Chris fell silent, but she noticed his body tense up, his grip tighter on the wheel. This case seemed to be bothering him more than he let on. Then again, she couldn’t blame him. There might have been a traitor within the BSAA or someone with proficient hacking skills who could easily make things much more dangerous for them. “We need to watch each other’s backs. Deal?” Chris offered a fist to her, and she bumped her fist with his. 

“Deal,” Jill said, feeling more relieved about the conversation. When Chris made a promise, he stuck with it. Perhaps now, she could focus on the case and not on whether her partner would survive. If they had one another’s backs, there wasn’t anything they couldn’t accomplish. She hoped, at least.

They drove for another fifteen minutes before Chris slowed his pickup to a stop. He cut the engine and spoke. “This is it.” Ahead of them was a grey building that looked like it had seen better days. Vines grew up on the side of the concrete walls, and the windows shattered. Pieces of glass reflected off the truck’s headlights before Chris turned them off. Jill was surprised she did not see a condemned sign on the front door. Chris sat in his seat and made no move to take his seatbelt off yet. Jill looked over at him, and his eyes were scanning the scenery. Foliage, assorted brush, and the forest made a perfect place for an ambush. “Something doesn’t seem right about this.”

Jill had to agree. “Why would HQ send us here? How could anyone know there are B.O.W.s in this place?”

“It almost feels like a trap, doesn’t it?” Chris said as he looked at her with a serious expression. 

“Do you think the person who called was the one who’s working with whoever these people are?” If that was the case, this was a trap. On top of it, the building looked kind of familiar to her. It almost resembled the warehouse from her dream, and a mission there had ended in tragedy. One she was going to prevent at all costs. 

“Maybe,” Chris said as he undid his seatbelt, removed his truck keys, and leaned over to her side. “Excuse me.” Chris reached across her and opened the glove box with his ignition key. Jill stayed perfectly still, feeling her heart beat faster. He was so close. Chris removed a firearm from the compartment and shut the glove box, leaving it unlocked. He straightened and pulled a clip from the pouch on his door. Chris loaded the clip into the firearm and gently tapped it to secure it. He checked the slide and offered it to her. “Take this.”

Jill accepted the firearm, feeling its weight. The weapon was not an ordinary pistol; it was a magnum. She looked it over, a Lightning Hawk, to be exact. “When did you pick this up? It’s nice.” 

“A week ago,” Chris said, giving her a grin, “it has great handling. I think it suits you.” 

Jill rolled her eyes with a smile, trying to keep her face from heating up. His damn smile was going to be the end of her. She took a breath and let it out. Focus. They could be walking right into their deaths. Now was not the time to be thinking about things like that. “What about you?”  Jill asked as she set the weapon on the dashboard and unclipped her seatbelt. 

“I brought a few things. That’s just in case the shit hits the fan,” Chris explained as he opened his door and got out. Jill followed suit, grabbing the Lightning Hawk before shutting her door. She tucked the firearm away in her belt on her back, keeping it hidden. She moved to the bed of the truck as Chris lowered the tailgate. He climbed up and knelt, unhooking some bungee cords. Chris then removed a tarp, revealing a miniature armory. There were two assault rifles, a riot shotgun, and a small case. Chris picked up one of the rifles and handed it off to her. 

“Expecting a horde?” Jill commented, giving him a smirk. 

Chris let out a soft chuckle as he looked over at her. “Hopefully not. I forgot to return these to the armory from my last mission before this new virus showed up. I think about around,” Chris paused before smiling at her. “Last month? Besides, this baby is mine.” Jill checked her rifle, making sure it was in working order before she arched an eyebrow. 

“A month?” Jill repeated as she watched her partner check his assault rifle before he shrugged. Jill couldn’t help but chuckle at his nonchalant attitude toward it. Then again, it wasn’t like they would fire him over it. He was too good at his job, and they founded the BSAA anyway. Plus, it was better to be over-prepared than under. Chris got up and hopped off the truck’s tailgate, leaving it down. Jill glanced at the remaining shotgun and case. He already had his pistol secure in its leg holster and rifle; the remaining gun wouldn’t be necessary. Jill looked at the case before she spoke. “What’s in the case?”

“Proximity mines.” Those would be useful if things went south; she hoped they wouldn’t. “Are you ready?” Chris asked, and Jill looked back at the building. It wasn’t like they could turn around and leave. If there were B.O.W.s here, they had to be taken care of. If not, the virus would only spread further, making whoever was behind this more powerful. Jill gave a nod and started forward toward the building. Chris walked next to her, continuing to scan the area. As they reached the door, Jill tried the knob and found it to be locked. 

“Give me a minute,” Jill said as she reached into her pocket and removed a lockpick set. She worked on the lock, and a moment later, she felt it give. “Open,” Jill said, standing before moving to the opposite side of the door. She held her assault rifle to her chest, muzzle down. Chris moved to the other side, grabbing the door handle. 

“Ready?” Chris asked quietly, and Jill nodded her head. Chris quickly opened the door and rushed in, Jill following after him. They both switched on the flashlights mounted on the rifles and looked around. The inside of the building made her breath catch in her throat. It was a spitting image of the warehouse from her dream. It was mainly barren, with a few wooden crates taking up the center of the room. The sole difference was a metal staircase at the end of the room. Jill suddenly felt like she couldn’t breathe. She glanced to her side and saw Chris proceed forward, taking point. 

‘No. No, this can’t be.’ Jill moved forward and gently placed a hand on Chris’s shoulder. He paused and looked back at her with a questioning look. 

“We need to get out of here,” She whispered urgently. She did not care if Chris thought she was losing her mind. Maybe she was, but right now, they needed to leave. If not, it was going to be a death sentence for her partner. “Now.”

Chris lowered his rifle slightly and was about to speak before a loud bang echoed through the room. They both turned toward the crates, aiming at them. One of the crates had splintered, and Chris took a cautious step forward. Jill could see something black leaking between the cracks—the black sludge. Jill turned and looked at the doors they had just come through, her heart racing. She could feel her palms begin to sweat, and her breathing increased. She swallowed and held her breath to stop herself from hyperventilating. No, this time was going to be different. Chris was not going to die. Another bang sounded from behind her, and she turned to see the crate splinter further, an arm exposing itself from the darkness. “Shit. Are they mailing them now?!” Chris said as he stepped back, his firearm trained on the crate. 

Scratch. Scratch.

Jill looked at the bigger crate and frowned as scratching noises came from it. They did not sound like human nails; they sounded much sharper. Jill nudged Chris’s arm, and he nodded, stepping back further. He aimed at the larger crate and signaled her to get back further. As much as she didn’t want to, Jill backed away, moving slightly to the side to have a clear view of the crate. At least she could cover him from this distance. The larger crate rattled before it fell silent. Chris took a tentative step forward, keeping a safe distance between himself and the crate. 

The exposed arm from the other crate flailed as a groan came from the inside. The scratching sound started again from the larger crate at the groan sound. This time, whatever was in the crate was intent on getting out. The scratching turned to thumping as the side of the crate began to give. Chris stepped back again, aiming at the side of the crate. The crate suddenly splintered as its side blew out. Bits of wood flew everywhere as a swift object darted out of it. Jill’s eyes widened slightly as the creature lunged at the crate where the zombie was, tearing it to shreds. It was a licker, but not like any she had seen before. Its body was much larger than expected, and its claws were longer. The licker’s body also had the same pustules as the zombies, leaking the same black ooze. Jill took a silent step back as the licker broke the crate open and slashed the zombie repetitively. She glanced at Chris, who stood as still as a statue. He kept his gaze on the creature, ready to fire if it turned on them. 

The licker finished with the zombie, an explosion of crimson and black coating the remaining sides of the crate and floor. Body parts lay strewn about as it let out a hiss and turned away from the carnage. It cocked its head, crawling slowly back the way it had come. Jill aimed at the creature’s brain and observed its movements. The licker momentarily stopped before it continued forward, heading toward her partner. Chris removed a hand from his rifle and grabbed something carefully off his belt. He glanced at Jill, and she saw what he held—a flashbang. She nodded, and Chris pulled the pin with his teeth. He gave it a toss toward the licker and shielded his eyes. Jill did the same and heard a loud pop go off. A bright light shone around them, and the licker let out a roar. Once the light died down, she heard Chris open fire on it. She quickly joined in, firing short bursts at the licker’s head. 

The licker took several rounds before it lunged forward toward Chris. Chris quickly dodged the attack and narrowly avoided another swipe at him. Jill fired her rifle, and the licker turned away from him. It lunged toward her, and she rolled out of the way. The licker crashed into a crate, and she turned, shooting it. Chris joined in, and soon, the licker was down, struggling to get up. Chris ceased fire as Jill put one last round in its head, the licker going still. Blood and black ooze leaked from its body as Chris walked over to her. “Lickers, too?”

“It looks that way,” Jill said before she looked around the room. Silence surrounded them once more, and they looked at the remaining crates. Fortunately, they were too small to house another licker, but she still felt on edge. The licker had not been in her dream. Maybe things would be different this time. Jill turned her attention to the stairwell across the room. That hadn’t been there either. She followed it up with her gaze and only saw a catwalk surrounding the room—no other doors. 

“We should take care of these other crates.” Jill looked back at her partner as he grabbed a grenade off his belt. Jill nodded before they reached a safe enough distance. Chris pulled the pin and threw it toward the remaining crates. The grenade hit the ground and exploded, taking the crates and whatever else they housed in a ball of fire. Chris watched the flames as he spoke. “Why did they want to show us this? That they are possibly shipping B.O.W.s. It’s almost as if they want to get caught. They could have easily gone unnoticed.”

It was strange, to say the least.  Whoever was behind this seemed like they didn’t care if they were captured. Jill watched the flames briefly before she turned away from them, looking toward the door. “We should get out of here. We can regroup with Rebecca and maybe find out more information.” Jill felt like there was more information in the building, but she felt a sudden urge to leave. The place made her uneasy, and she kept expecting a tyrant to bust through the door. The sooner they left, the better Jill would feel. She still didn’t feel like this was a safe place for Chris to be. 

“We should look around for more information first. At least find out if a manifest was left accidentally,” Chris said as he looked at her. He gave her that concerned look again, and she counted down until he spoke again. “Are you okay? Is something bothering you?” It was just like clockwork. 

Jill turned toward him and sighed before she spoke. “This place is making me feel uneasy. Something is wrong here, and we need to leave.”

“You were saying that before, too. What is it about this place?” Chris asked as he took a step toward her.

It’s where you died, is what she wanted to say, but it would not come out. Instead, she felt anxious again. She did not want to mention that dream, not in this place. Not when there could still be danger lurking nearby. “There’s something about it. I don’t know, but my gut tells me we must get out of here.”

Chris looked at her silently before he nodded. “Alright. We will leave for now and come back tomorrow with a bigger team. That way, we can cover every inch of this place and try to find a clue as to who is doing this.”

Jill was thankful Chris was not pushing the issue. The fact they were leaving made her feel a bit more relieved. Once they were in the truck and on their way home, perhaps the unsettling feeling in her gut would leave. Chris would be much safer if they had more people with them tomorrow. “Thank you, Chris.”

Chris smiled at her as he gave the room one last glance. He then turned and started for the door. Jill hung back for a moment as she heard a faint thump. Where was that coming from? Jill looked around before she heard her partner call to her. “Are you coming, Jill?” Jill looked ahead at Chris. He was standing just beyond the doorway. “I thought you wanted to get out of here.” 

“I’m coming,” Jill said as she approached the doorway. As she walked through the threshold, she heard the sound again. Chris, who had started back to his truck, stopped and looked around.

Thump. 

Thump. 

“Is that thunder?” 

Thunder? Jill felt her body suddenly tense as the hair on the back of her neck stood up. No, that was not thunder. “Wait-”

Chris turned back toward her. “What is it?” Jill was about to speak when a large, humanoid object landed directly behind Chris, shaking the ground. Her eyes widened as Chris startled before he spun around in what felt like slow motion, raising his rifle. Jill watched, horrified, as the tyrant swung as he moved, connecting with Chris’s torso. 

“Chris!”

[astra-ella]

𝐙𝐎𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄 - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

fandom: haikyuu ship: nishinoya yuu x oc/reader status: complete ao3 link

"I think you're really pretty. Will you go out with me?" That was the first thing he's ever said to her. And needless to say, Amari Chiyo was not impressed. So as promised, Nishinoya Yuu will get to know her better and confess again. And again. And again. And again. It'll take 6 years and 9 confessions, but he'll get there. Eventually.

⌦ content: fluff, light angst, love at first sight, friends to lover, slice of life

⌦ note: you are free to insert yourself into Chiyo, just keep in mind she has her own character/backstory. i know some people don't like that, so just a heads-up.

story masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

The third time he confessed was not long after – on an unassuming day at the beginning of their third year.

After the divorce, Chiyo’s mother got an offer for a relatively well-paying job in the heart of Tokyo while her father barely managed to land a typical white-collar job a little over an hour away. He made just enough to support himself and his children. But Japanese work culture was brutal, with long grueling hours and the pretty much obligatory after-work drinking party, it didn’t leave him much time to be with his kids. 

That’s why Chiyo came back. She couldn’t move to Tokyo with her mother, knowing that she’d leave her younger sister, who was only seven at the time, to pick up the slack.

It was a lot at first, trying to juggle her school and home responsibilities. She did all of the cooking and cleaning, alongside taking care of her younger siblings. After school, she would run around like a madman, trying to make it in time to pick up her brother from kindergarten before meeting her sister at the local elementary school. But things became a lot easier during her third year, once her brother moved into first grade at the same elementary school.

So that day, just like she did for the past month or so, Chiyo headed to the elementary school to pick them up. But when she got to their usual meeting spot, her little sister was nowhere to be seen.

“Sis!” Standing under the big traffic mirror, a little boy waved at her.

“Kaito,” Chiyo smiled. “How was school today?” 

“Good. We played volleyball in gym class today, and I was the best in the class!” He said proudly.

“That’s great,” she gave him a little pat on the head before glancing around. “And Hotaru? Where is she?”

“I dunno,” Kaito shrugged, and Chiyo’s brows furrowed.

“What do you mean? Wasn’t she here when you got here?”

He shook his head. “Nope. She probably just went back in to grab something,” he pouted, twiddling with his fingers. “She’s stupid.”

Chiyo pinched his nose. “Don’t call your sister stupid, Kaito,” she chided before breathing a sigh. “Alright, let’s wait a bit, I guess.”

So they waited. Five minutes passed — ten, then fifteen. Chiyo exchanged a few nods with some parents she recognized, and Kaito waved goodbye to a few of his friends — but there was no sign of Hotaru.

Chiyo glanced up, noticing the dark clouds that began to gather above. She suddenly remembered that the weather forecast predicted a storm would be rolling in late that afternoon. Not wanting to get caught up in the rain, Chiyo figured it’d be best to head in and look for her sister.

Taking Kaito along, Chiyo found Hotaru’s homeroom teacher still in the classroom, packing up her things.

“Amari-san?” The teacher hummed thoughtfully. “She ran out right when the bell rang. Could she have gone home?”

“No, we usually meet right outside the school gates.” Chiyo frowned. She pressed her lips together, trying her best to remember if Hotaru mentioned going anywhere when someone knocked on the classroom door. 

A little girl dressed in a gray jacket walked in. “Hayashi-sensei, I forgot my pencil case in my desk.”

“Oh, Ito-san! Perfect timing,” the old woman readjusted her glasses. “Did you know where Amari-san ran off to? Her siblings are looking for her.”

“Hotaru?” Upon a closer look, Chiyo recognized her as one of her sister’s friends. “She said she was going to see her mom today. She was so excited, it’s all she’s been talking about.”

“What?!” Chiyo’s eyes grew wide “I’ve never heard anything about this!”

“But Hotaru said you guys were saving on money for the trip,” the little girl looked a little confused. “She said it’s why she couldn’t buy lunch.”

Chiyo felt like she had been doused in a bucket of cold water. Now that she thought about it, Hotaru had been exceptionally hungry every time she came home from school for the past few weeks. She had chalked it up to her sister nearing a growth spurt, but based on her friend’s words, it’s very possible Hotaru has been saving her lunch money towards travel funds in order to visit their mother. 

Chiyo’s stomach dropped.

“Oh my god,” she muttered under her breath. Her hands ran through her hair, unwittingly pulling at it. “She’s trying to get to Tokyo.” She then snapped her attention to the little girl, holding her by the shoulders. “Did she mention how she was gonna get there?”

“Not really,” the girl in the gray jacket shook her head frantically, looking slightly terrified. “She just said she had to go catch the bus.”

“She probably took the number 12 bus,” the old woman chimed in. “That takes you to Sendai Station, which should get you on the JR train to Tokyo. Oh but,” she looked up at Chiyo. “I think all the bus services will be shut down soon.”

“Really?” Chiyo’s voice was barely a whisper.

“Yeah, because of that storm coming in later today. It’s too dangerous to drive in that kind of weather.”

Her eyes lit up. There was still hope.

“Come on, Kaito. Let’s go!” She immediately grabbed her younger brother, who was far too busy exploring the magic of a fourth-grade classroom to notice the chaos unfolding around him. 

“Wait, where are we going?” The boy protested to no avail. “We haven’t even found Hotaru yet!” 

But Chiyo didn’t bother to respond. Instead, she murmured a quick ‘thank you’ to the teacher and little girl before hurrying out of the classroom.

Nishinoya was on his way home with his friends, munching on a popsicle when he saw her. He thought it was his lucky day. Coach ended practice early to ensure everyone could get home before that nasty storm could hit. So he said a quick goodbye to his teammates and hurried over to her.

She was standing by a bus stop, her index finger hovering down the list of the stations the bus was scheduled to stop at. Beside her was a little boy, whom he assumed to be her little brother. 

“Chiyo, I’m tired.” He heard the boy whine.

He figured she must've gotten lost trying to navigate the area. He thought that this could be his chance to swoop in and help her like a knight in shining armor would. But as he got closer, he noticed something was off.

“Hey, Amari!” Nishinoya greeted her as casually as possible. “What’s up?”

Chiyo met his gaze, and Nishinoya realized he was right. She had an expression like the world was ending.

“Nishinoya,” her voice cracked.

Beside her, the little boy tugged at her sleeve. “Sis, who is that?”

“He’s… my classmate.”

“Yo!” With a big grin, Nishinoya then crouched down in front of him. “The name’s Nishinoya Yuu. Nice to meetcha, buddy!” He extended his fist, to which the boy gladly returned with a fist bump.

“I’m Kaito,” he replied before cocking his head to the side. “Nishinoya, are you the same age as my sister?”

“Yeah, why?”

Kaito glanced back and forth between Nishinoya and Chiyo. “Then why are you shorter than her?”

Nishinoya swore he heard something snap. “Excuse me?! What did you just say?!”

“Kaito, you shouldn’t say that to people,” Chiyo hurried to scold her little brother. “It’s rude.”

As much as Nishinoya didn’t want to admit it, the kid had a point. Chiyo was now about an inch and a half taller than him, courtesy of girls hitting their growth spurt earlier. But Nishinoya knew one day, he would be taller than her.

One day. 

Setting aside his disgruntlement for later, he cleared his throat. “So, what are you guys doing out here? I thought you lived in the other direction?”

Chiyo pressed her lips together.

“We’re looking for my sister,” Kaito told him. 

“Your sister?”

“Our other sister,” Chiyo elaborated. “It’s a long story, but I think she ran away from home.”

“What?!” Nishinoya nearly dropped his popsicle. “Wait, how old is this kid? Where the hell is she going?”

“She’s nine,” Chiyo said. “And I think she’s trying to run off to Tokyo, but the buses are out of service right now.”

“Ah, ‘cause of the storm,” Nishinoya hummed, studying the dark clouds that were rolling in at a steady pace.

“I checked every bus stop in the nearby area. If something happens to her, I… I-!”

From the corner of his eye, Nishinoya saw Chiyo’s hands clench onto the hem of her skirt. She looked like she was about to burst into tears.

“Alright then!” He shouted, quickly finishing his popsicle in two large chomps before looking her directly in the eye. “I’ll help you look for her. In the meantime, you and Kaito should head home.”

“What?” Chiyo looked surprised. “Wait, you don’t need to-”

“You guys haven’t been home since school let out, right?” He pointed to their bags and school uniforms. He then thumped his chest, gesturing to the much more comfortable t-shirt he changed into after practice. “Just leave it to me.”

“But there’s a storm coming soon!” Chiyo reasoned. “You’ll get caught in it!”

“Oh, that���s true,” he thought about it for a moment, then fished his cell phone out of his bag. “Here, gimme your number.”

“What?” 

“Text me your address and take my stuff with you. I don’t want my volleyball shoes and stuff to get wet.” He opened his phone, creating a new contact entry for Chiyo to put her number in before handing his phone to her. “Trust me. I’ll bring your sister home safe and sound.”

Her weary eyes darted between his phone and him. “I don’t want you to go through so much trouble for me.”

“What’s wrong with doing something for the girl I like?” He retorted with a cheeky grin. 

At his confession, Chiyo’s cheeks suddenly tinted a bright red. “Nishinoya-!”

“I like you, Amari. So let me try and act cool in front of you, yeah?” 

Chiyo looked like she didn’t know how to respond. Her lips parted, probably about to make another attempt to resist his help, when Kaito pulled on her sleeve again.

“I wanna go home,” he said quietly. 

In the face of her brother’s request, Chiyo seemed to have lost all will to fight. She quickly entered her number into Nishinoya’s phone and gave it back to him in exchange for his school bag. 

“Please be careful,” she whispered just loud enough for him to hear, and Nishinoya felt like his heart was about to burst.

“Don’t worry. She’ll be back before you know it.” Leaving her with one last reassuring look, he then ran off.

“Chiyo, is that guy your boyfriend?” He faintly heard Kaito ask.

“N-No! He’s not!”

Nishinoya smiled.

One day.

Nishinoya scoured the area, double-checking all nearby bus stations and even dropping by the elementary school for a more thorough search. No sign of any girl matching the picture Chiyo sent over by text. 

The sky was already tar-black by that point, and the rain came in a downpour. Water soaked through the soles of his sneakers, making those squelching wet smacks as he continued running through the empty streets. He mentally cursed himself for not bringing a jacket, but in hindsight, any jacket would’ve given up on keeping him dry long ago. He made sure to keep moving, as that was the only thing still keeping him warm. 

He wondered where the girl could be. Sure, when he was little and his sisters’ teasing became too much, he used to have those ‘runaway’ phases too. But these moments were nothing more than locking himself in the bathroom and pouting until one of them apologized or coaxed him out with food.

He was just about to run past a local park when he suddenly noticed a red backpack on the ground. It stuck out like a sore thumb underneath the blue playground set. Figuring it couldn’t hurt to check, he approached the playground and took a peek under the slides.

There, sitting on a little plastic table with her knees to her chest, was a girl that matched the photo exactly. 

“Hey, you’re Hotaru, right?”

The little girl met his gaze with the same deep blue eyes as her sister.

“Who are you?” Her voice was hoarse, like she had been crying. 

“My name’s Nishinoya Yuu, a friend of your sister,” Nishinoya said, taking a seat beside her on the plastic stool. He knew Chiyo introduced him as just a classmate earlier, but that could be changed with time. “She’s really worried about you, you know?”

Hotaru looked away.

“Hm? What’s wrong?”

“Mommy and daddy said I shouldn’t talk to strangers.”

“Wha-? I just said I know your sister!” He took out his phone and pulled up his very brief text history with Chiyo. “See? We’re friends!”

“Oh,” Hotaru hummed in disinterest. “Don’t tell her you found me. I don’t wanna go home.”

Nishinoya raised an eyebrow. “Amari said you were trying to run away to Tokyo. What’s up with that?” He asked as he leaned back in his seat. “I mean if you wanted to go see the Skytree or something, I don’t blame you. I just don’t think running away from home is the best way to do it.”

At the mention of Tokyo, Hotaru’s lips began quivering. She pulled her legs closer, if that were even possible. “I wanted to see mommy,” she murmured.

“You mom?” Nishinoya repeated and Hotaru nodded. 

Now that he thought about it, there was a rumor going around class that Chiyo’s parents got a divorce. He remembered there was about a month or so during their first year when she was exceptionally quiet, but he didn’t know her well enough at the time to make a judgment.

Guess that rumor was true.

“When mommy and daddy split up, mommy only took Chiyo,” she continued. “But then Chiyo came back and mommy went to Tokyo, and I haven’t seen her since.” She buried her face in her knees as her body began shaking violently. “Why didn’t mommy take me too?”

Watching as the little girl beside him broke down into a series of sobs and hiccups, Nishinoya patted her on the back.

He didn’t really know what to say. He himself sort of experienced a similar situation, with his parents leaving both him and his sisters with his grandpa in the countryside while they went to work in the city. But Nishinoya didn’t really think much of it; perhaps it was because he never actually grew up with them. Sure, he’d miss them, especially on the days following their departure post-holidays. But his grandpa always made things fun, to the point where it wouldn’t really bother him.

His gaze wandered to the side, taking in the sights of the late spring flowers drooping under the weight of the raindrops. Then, he took a deep breath and turned his attention back to her.

“I’m sure your mom will come back for you,” he said in the most reasonable tone he could muster. “Right now, she probably just needs time to get used to Tokyo. But once she settles down, she’ll come back for all three of you.”

Hotaru peered up at his question, staring at him with glossy eyes.

Nishinoya smiled a little. “But no matter what, I don’t think running away is the right thing to do. Just like how you miss your mom, your sister misses you too. She’s super worried about you,” he said, gently ruffling her drenched hair. “So let’s get you home, and we can all wait for your mom together, okay?” His right hand reached out towards Hotaru while his left remained on his lap, clenched tight.

The silence that followed felt like it lasted a decade. Nishinoya was never really good at comforting people. He was always more of a “take the bull by the horns” type of person, after all. But in this situation, there wasn’t really anything to take, so he could only say whatever was on his mind and pray that his words struck a chord.

His prayers were soon answered, however, when Hotaru unwinded from her defensive ball curl and grasped his hand. She sniffled, but quickly wiped away the snot with her sleeves.

“Together?” She looked at him expectantly. “You’ll wait with us?”

“Yeah!” Pulling her off the table and onto her feet, Nishinoya nodded with a wide grin. “I’ll wait with you guys til your mom comes back.”

Hotaru’s eyes flickered down to her feet, and she pressed her lips together.

“Okay,” she nodded. “Let’s go home.”

Mentally patting himself on the back, Nishinoya reached down to grab her red backpack. He then took out his phone to pull up their home address when Hotaru’s stomach let out a loud rumble.

“I’m hungry,” she murmured, and Nishinoya laughed heartily.

“Let’s hope your sister has snacks ready when you get home then!”

Sure enough, by the time they got to the Amari residence, Chiyo had piping hot food ready for both Hotaru and Nishinoya. That was the first time Nishinoya’s ever tried her home cooking, so it was definitely worth all the trouble. 

But before anyone could eat, they spent a good ten minutes or so in the foyer where the Amari sisters spent crying their eyes out. Chiyo hugged Hotaru, scolded her, then hugged her some more. She then wrapped Nishinoya in the tightest embrace he’s gotten in a good while and proceeded to mutter incoherent words of, what he assumed to be, gratitude. 

Maybe it was because she was literally crushing his bones, but his heart hurt.

That was the first time Nishinoya had ever seen her cry.

And as long as he could help it, he never wanted to see it again.

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