#i swear that next episode better be them sorting their shit out and then just having the most tooth-rotting fluffy moments ever

[valyrie630]

❗️SPOILERS FOR YOUNG ROYALS S3 EP5❗️

using arcade at the end was just pure evil

[soldierrcore]

Ghostbusters

𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐚 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐎𝐂!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.

swearing, sexual innuendos.

Steve slammed Natasha against the wall. Vincent was leaning against the wall next to them, holding a pack of peanuts he got from the vending machine.

"Where is it?" Steve hissed, frustrated with the redhead.

"Safe." She replied.

"Do better!"

Natasha looked into his eyes, looking for an answer. "Where did you get it?"

Steve put more pressure on her arms. "Why would I tell you?"

"Fury gave it to you. Why?"

Damn! This is just like watching an episode of Real Housewives.

Steve got the idea that she had opened the file. "What's on it?"

"I don't know." She answered truthfully.

"Stop lying!" He gritted through his teeth.

Vincent could see the slight smile on her face. "I only act like I know everything, Rogers."

"I bet you knew Fury hired the pirates, didn't you?" Steve looked out the room's window to make sure nobody was about to come in, or nobody was watching them.

"Well, it makes sense. The ship was dirty. Fury needed a way in, so do you."

Steve lifted her a little by her jacket. "I'm not gonna ask you again."

"Steve, watch it now, will you!" Vincent spoke, lightning sparking at his fingertips again.

Natasha looked at Vincent, giving him a look that it was fine. "I know who killed Fury. Most of the intelligence community doesn't believe he exists. The ones who do call him the Winter Soldier. He's credited with over two dozen assassinations in the last fifty years."

"So he's a ghost story." Steve deadpanned.

Guess we got upgraded to ghostbusters...

"Five years ago, I was escorting a nuclear engineer out of Iran. Somebody shot out my tires near Odessa. We lost control and went straight over a cliff, I pulled us out, but the Winter Soldier was there. I was covering my engineer, so he shot him straight through me." She pulled up her shirt to show him the scar on the side of her stomach.

"Soviet slug, no rifling. Bye-bye, bikinis."

"Goddamn," Vincent mumbled to himself turned out it wasn't quite enough because Natasha looked at him with a smirk and winked.

"Yeah, I bet you look terrible in them now," Steve told her. Natasha slightly smiled.

"Going after him is a dead end. I know, I've tried."

Natasha held up the flash drive. "Like you said, he's a ghost story."

Steve took the flash drive from her. "Well, let's find out what the ghost wants."

Natasha nodded and looked at Vincent. "First, we need to stop at a store to get mr. pretty boy over here a shirt."

___

"First rule of going on the run is, don't run, walk," Natasha informed the two.

Steve looked down at his shoes. "If I run in these shoes, they're gonna fall off."

"Thank you, Nat for telling me. I thought it was to run and catch everybody's attention." Vincent sarcastically chuckled while trying not to trip on his untied shoelaces.

"Shut up." She hissed stepping on his left shoe.

Vincent hit her arm. "Natasha, we've been through this Do. Not. Step on my Nike Air Trainer III's."

"Don't step on my shoes." She mocked.

"Shut up." He huffed.

She smirked. "Make me." That made Vincent speechless till they made it to the Mac store.

"The drive has a Level Six homing program, so as soon as we boot up SHIELD will know exactly where we are." Natasha acquainted.

"How much time do we have?" Steve questioned.

"Uh...about nine minutes from..." She popped the flash drive into a MacBook Pro.

"Now."

"Fury was right about that ship, somebody's trying to hide something. This drive is protected by some sort of AI, it keeps rewriting itself to counter my commands."

Steve looked around the store looking for any Strike agents. "Can you override it?"

"The person who developed this is slightly smarter than me. Slightly."

"Fucking shit," Vincent whispered next to them.

Natasha and Steve both looked at him confused.

He shrugged. "I was so close to the high score on subway surfers." He pointed to the phone.

Natasha continued to try and find out what's on the flash drive. "I'm gonna try running a tracer. This is a program that SHIELD developed to track hostile malware, so if we can't read the file, maybe we can find out where it came from."

"Can I help you guys with anything?" An apple employee asked.

Natasha grabbed Steve's arm. "Oh, no. My fiancé was just helping me with some honeymoon destinations."

"Cool, where-"

"Umm Aaron, do you think you could help me with this?" Vincent asked pointing to a Mac book two down from Natasha and Steve.

"Sure." Aaron followed Vincent to the Mac.

"So I was thinking about buying this, now how would I set it up?"

"The first time your MacBook Air starts up, the Setup Assistant walks you through the simple steps needed to start using your new Mac. Choose a country or region to set the language and time zone for your Mac. You can respond to all the prompts, or skip some and choose "Set up later" when you see that option. For example, it might make sense to set up Apple Pay, which requires a verified credit card, and Screen Time, which you can set for different users, after initial setup. Read on for more information about setup tasks." Aaron explained to a 'trying not to fall asleep' Vincent.

"Thank you. Can I give you my card to pay for it?" He told the employee.

"Yes, you can." Aaron walked to the front of the store and swiped Vincent's card and went to the back and grabbed a bag with a Mac in it. He walked back over to Vincent handed him the bag.

Vincent shook his hand. "Thank you, sir."

"Anytime." Aaron nodded and walked away.

Vincent walked over to Natasha and Steve. "You said nine minutes, come on."

"Shh, relax. Got it."

Vincent scoffed. "Relax? You're telling me to relax are you serious."

The screen zooms in and the signal is coming from Wheaton, NJ. "You know it?" Natasha asked Steve.

"I used to. Let's go." Steve pulled the flash drive from the computer and they walked out of the store.

"Natasha, you own me fucking nine hundred seventy-nine dollars and eighty-six cents for keeping the employee busy."

"I didn't tell you to buy anything."

Vincent scoffed. "How else did expect me to distract him?"

"Standard tac-team. Two behind, to across, two coming straight at us. If they make us, I'll engage, you hit the south escalator to the metro." Steve told them as two agents are coming straight towards them.

"Shut up and put your arm around me, laugh at something I said," Natasha addressed confusing Steve

"What?"

"Do it!" Steve quickly put his arm around Natasha and laughed as Vincent looked down at his shoes making sure there were no smudges.

As they are going down the escalator Natasha spotted Rumlow on the escalator next to them going up, she turned to Vincent knowing if he saw Rumlow it would be it for them.

"Kiss me."

Vincent's eyes widened. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable. Take this Steve." She handed Steve her phone.

"Yeah, I guess they do." She quickly pulled Vincent's jacket collars down to her level so she could reach him, his hands landed on her hips, he felt her arch into his hold.

Rumlow rolled his eyes and looked away as he goes past them on the escalator.

Natasha pulled out of the kiss and started walking off the escalator with the two men following her. "You still uncomfortable?"

"Wishing the escalator was longer." He replied putting his hood on.

Steve handed Natasha her phone back. "I'm glad it's over, those things make me sick."

Vincent chuckled putting an arm around Steve. "Let's go grampa.

____

"So we have to steal a car?" Vincent asked his two superheroes/super-spy best friends...only friends except for Milo.

Natasha pushed a strand of her straight red hair out of her eyes. "Yes."

"And none of you know how to do that?" Vincent snorted.

Steve and Natasha rolled their eyes. "Yes, Vince."

"This is going to be fun I haven't done this sinc-." Vincent cut himself off as he remembered why he stopped.

"Since what?" Natasha questioned.

Vincent shook his head. "Nothing."

____

He watched as a woman parked her Chevrolet Silverado 1500 LTZ. After the woman walked inside the Mall and nobody was around the truck he hotwired the truck, as soon as the truck started Natasha opened the door to the front and climbed in and Steve climbed in the backseat.

"Where did Vincent Lanez learn how to steal a car?" Natasha questioned him.

"My older brother Timothee." Vincent smiled making a right turn. "And we're borrowing. Take your feet off the dash."

Natasha glared at him and took her feet off the dash.

"Timothee?" Steve asked, the whole time he knew Vincent he's never seen or heard about an older brother.

"Uhh, he died a year ago."

Steve frowned. "I-I didn't know, I-I'm sorry."

"It's fine Steve."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Natasha asked frowning.

Vincent sighed. "Because I can barely speak about."

Natasha nodded. "Alright, I have a question for you, oh, which you do not have to answer. I feel like if you don't answer it though, you're kind of answering it, you know?"

"Natasha."

"Was that a bad kiss?" She asked him, taking a drink of a water bottle Vincent had got her from a gas station earlier in the trip.

"No, it was a really good kiss. Why did you think it was a bad kiss?"

"I didn't say it was a bad kiss I asked if it was a bad kiss." She giggled defended herself.

They stopped at a red light and Vincent unbuckled his seat belt, he reached over the armrest console and kissed her.

"Was that a bad kiss?" He asked as he buckled his seatbelt back.

"N-No...No it wasn't." She stammered blushing.

___

Two hours into the trip Steve fell asleep and Natasha was dosing off and on.

"Why don't you go to sleep we have about thirty-two minutes left. I'll wake you when we get there." Vincent told her.

She nodded and grabbed Vincent's right hand that rested the armrest console and held his hand in hers.

Natasha soon fell asleep softly snoring. Vincent would occasionally glance down at the sleeping redhead he adored.

Vincent hopped out of the truck and woke up Steve.

"Son of a gun," Steve mumbled as he was shaken awake, he grabbed his shield and got out of the truck.

Vincent opened the passenger door and pushed a strang of Natasha's hair out of her face. "Natasha, wake up." He spoke softly.

Her eyes slowly opened and she sat up and looked around at their surroundings and shivered. "Vinnie, can I have your jacket?"

"Yeah." He took off his jacket and handed it to her, he helped her out of the truck.

"Thank you." She shivered, putting the jacket over her hoodie.

"This is it," Vincent spoke as he went to shake the gate but Natasha grabbed his arm.

Natasha put her phone in her back pocket. "The file came from these coordinates."

Steve looked at the sign on the gate that read Camp Lehigh. "So did I."

Vincent looked at him bewildered. "You were born here?"

Steve sighed while Natasha smiled.

Later that night as they walked around the base trying to pinpoint where the signal came from. "This camp is where I was trained."

"Now you tell us, after we've been here for forty minutes," Vincent murmured picking up a rock chucking it at a wall.

He and Natasha were walking on a platform while Steve was down on the ground.

Natasha held up her phone looking for a signal. "Changed much?"

"A little." Steve glanced at a camera on a pole.

"I think Steve is in la-la land." Vincent chuckled.

Natasha turned around and glanced at Steve. "Wonder what he's thinking."

"Come on Vinnie boo let's continue looking." She dragged him along with her.

____

Natasha and Vincent walked back to Steve. "This is a dead-end. Zero heat signature, zero waves, not even radio. Whoever wrote the file must have used a router to throw people off." She addressed putting her phone in her back pocket.

Vincent noticed a building ahead of them, he jumped over the railing of the platform walking towards the building.

"What is it?" Natasha questioned as she and Steve walked over to the building.

"Army regulations forbid storing ammunition within five hundred yards of the barracks. This building is in the wrong place." Vincent sighed.

"How do you know that?" Steve asked.

"Army kid."

Vincent stood back and Steve opened the lock with his shield and they entered inside, when they turned on the lights they noticed it's a SHIELD office.

"This is SHIELD." Natasha breathed out.

"Maybe where it started," Steve commented.

Vincent opened a door that entered into a room where they found old framed portraits of Howard Stark, Peggy, Col. Chester Phillips, and Vincent great great great grand father General. Thomas Lanez.

Natasha pointed to an unbalanced picture. "There's Stark's father."

Steve acknowledged. "Howard."

Natasha glanced at Steve. "Who's the girl?" Steve doesn't respond, he turned away and followed Vincent who didn't take interest in the pictures.

Vincent walked further down the room and stopped by a massive bookshelf and noticed a cobweb swaying.

"Fuck this is heavy." He mumbled as he pushed the bookshelf and it slid open to reveal an elevator behind it.

"Elevator?" Steve asked.

Natasha pulled out her phone and scanned the keypad.

She typed the password in and pushed the button it opened to Vincent's surprise the old thing worked.

Steve and Natasha walked into the elevator while Vincent gulped. "Y-You know what I-I'll stay here."

Natasha sighed and grabbed his arm. "Come on scaredy-cat."

They go down the elevator which took them to a room with old looking computers.

The elevator doors opened to a dark room, they walked out of the elevator the doors closed behind them.

Vincent gulped, he turned around and looked at the closed doors. "Oh hell no."

Natasha grabbed his hand to calm him down.

She took a glance around the room. "This can't be the data-point, this technology is ancient."

They walked to what looked like the main console. The lights flickered on. Natasha noticed a small flash drive port, she placed the flash drive in it which then activated the ancient computer.

"Initiate system?" The computer spoke.

Natasha typed using the keyboard. "Y-E-S spells yes. "

Natasha smiled and turned to Steve as the old computer started to cranks up. "Shall we play a game?" It's from a movie that...

"Yeah, I saw it." Suddenly they hear an accented voice speaking.

"Rogers, Steven. Born, 1918. Romanoff, Natalia Alianovna. Born, 1984. Lanez, Vincent. Born, 1990."

They see an old camera moving above them as it analyzed them.

Natasha looked at the camera puzzled. "It's some kind of a recording."

"I am not a recording, Fräulein. I may not be the man I was when the Captain took me, prisoner, in 1945, but I am." The computer screen shows an old photo of Dr. Arnim Zola.

Natasha turned towards Steve. "Do you know this thing?"

"Steve buddy, we need to talk about your friends." Vincent sighed.

Steve walked off the platform looking behind the computer. "Arnim Zola was a German scientist who worked for the Red Skull. He's been dead for years."

"First correction, I am Swiss. Second, look around you. I have never been more alive. In 1972 I received a terminal diagnosis. Science could not save my body, my mind, however, that was worth saving on two hundred thousand feet of data banks. You are standing in my brain."

Vincent scoffed. "You weren't very popular as a child where you?"

Steve walked back up where Natasha and Vincent were. "How did you get here?"

"Invited."

"It was Operation Paperclip after World War II. SHIELD recruited German scientists with strategic value." Natasha informed.

"They thought I could help their cause. I also helped my own."

Steve scoffed. "HYDRA died with the Red Skull."

"Cut off one head, two more shall take its place." Vincent could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Prove it." Steve challenged.

"Accessing archive." The computer screen shows them old footage of Johann Schmidt/Red Skull, of how the original SHIELD founders.

"HYDRA was founded on the belief that humanity could not be trusted with its own freedom. What we did not realize, was that if you try to take that freedom, they resist. The war taught us much."

"Holy shit," Vincent mumbled.

"Humanity needed to surrender its freedom willingly. After the war, SHIELD was founded and I was recruited. The new HYDRA grew. A beautiful parasite inside SHIELD. For seventy years HYDRA has been secretly feeding crisis, reaping war. And when history did not cooperate, history was changed."

Natasha walked closer to the screen. "That's impossible, SHIELD would have stopped you."

"Accidents will happen." The computer screen showed them HYDRA had killed Howard and Maria Stark making it look like a car accident along with the recent death of Fury.

"HYDRA created a world so chaotic that humanity is finally ready to sacrifice its freedom to gain its security. Once the purification process is complete, HYDRA's new world order will arise. We won, Captain. Your death amounts to the same as your Life; a zero-sum."

In anger, Steve smashed the computer screen.

"As I was saying..." Zola spoke.

"What's on this drive?" Natasha questioned getting frustrated at the computer...or person.

"Project Insight requires insight. So I wrote an algorithm."

Natasha walked closer to the computer screen. "What kind of algorithm? What does it do?"

"The answer to your question is fascinating. Unfortunately, you shall be too dead to hear it."

Natasha looked at Vincent in slight fear of what it meant by 'Too dead to hear it.' As much as she hated to admit but she was scared.

Suddenly the doors started to close, Steve tried to stop it by throwing his shield in between them but he's too late. He ran over to the door and tried to pry it open with his hands but it didn't work it was sealed shut.

"Vince, Steve, we got a bogey. Short-range ballistic. 30 seconds tops." Natasha addressed with worry laced in her voice.

"Who fired it?" Vincent inquired as he looked around the room for an entrance.

"S.H.I.E.L.D."

"I am afraid I have been stalling, Captain. Admit it, it's better this way. We're both of us...out of time." Zola told the three of them.

Vincent noticed a small opening on the ground, he threw the metal door aside and grabbed Natasha, Steve jumped in just as the place exploded and protected them with his shield.

Steve and Vincent managed to get out from under the building rubble just as STRIKE agents arrived to roam the area for them.

"Fuck." Vincent groaned picking a piece of glass out of his leg. He leaned down and picked up Natasha who was out cold.

"Come on we need to hurry," Steve spoke moving rock out of the way.

____

"She's going to be alright. Right?" Vincent asked Steve who was driving, Vince had sat in the back with Natasha who had her head resting on his lap asleep.

Steve looked in the rearview mirror. "She will be fine, Vince."

Natasha groaned as she regained consciousness. "What happened?" She asked her voice rasper then usual.

"A building fell on us," Steve uttered to her. He looked away from the road just for a split second to look back at the redhead.

"Sure feels like it." She groaned.

She looked down at her waist to see Vincent's left arm resting on her, Natasha noticed something off about it.

She and noticed when he would move his arm a little his body would tense. "What happened to your arm?"

"Nothing." He responded quickly which was a red flag for Natasha.

She reached down and touched his arm, again his body tensed. "I think your arm is broken."

"It's not, It's just sore you landed right on it." Vincent chuckled.

She looked up at him. "Sorry."

"It's fine, I still want you to pay me back."

"I'm not paying you back so get over it," Natasha rolled her eye.

Vincent gave her a playful glare before turning to Steve. "Aye, grampa where are we going?"

"To see a friend."

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Ok so what would Mihawk be like with a lover who is very bipolar... like their happy on minute and angry the next how would he calm them down🤔 or yk they get a lil bratty and he gotta put them in their place🌚

WaitwaitwaitwaitWAIT

Hold the F UP, Mihawk AND psychology? You're spoiling me 🤭❤️

Oooooh I can't not do this one right now.

Kinda personal because I have some issues that can result in bi-polar tendencies, so this hits quite close to home for me.

I've rewatched this scene a totally normal amount of times I swear. Totally normal.

Mood Swings

OPLA! Mihawk X Reader

Mostly SFW headcanons, only the slightest bit suggestive, kinda hurt/comfort I suppose

Trigger Warning ⚠️ (possibly) for mental health issues, bi-polar and related disorders

♬♫ Rosanna - The Fratellis ♫♬

Baby, you're a mess, I confess

But I guess that I'll save you one of these days

Mihawk doesn't exactly have the patience of a saint, but he still honestly has more patience than most—you don't dedicate your life to becoming the world's greatest swordsman and actually achieve that goal without at least a touch of patience.

Your mood swings amuse him more than anything. Not a cruel sort of amusement, but a more endearing one. You remind him a bit of a cat—sweet and playful one minute, then all claws and bared teeth the next.

Though as amusing as it can be, he sees how it drains you, mentally and physically, and that more than anything is reason enough for him to stay patient with you in the moment.

He'll keep a level tone, just tells you to calm down, even while you're yelling at the top of your lungs that you are calm, yelling insults and potentially hurtful words.

He can't help but smirk a little at how quickly you fly off the handle, which probably doesn't help your own anger, but he really can help but find it a little entertaining, even a little enticing.

Oh, he wants to shove you against a wall, pin your hands over your head and murmur in your ear for you to behave yourself, to just devour you then and there—but he knows that now isn't the time. That can come later, after you've calmed down.

So he just keeps up a calm and reasonable air about himself and lets you vent out whatever frustrations you need to, taking it with a grain of salt because he knows that it won't last.

Just gives a little sigh once you have calmed down, once you've apologized for whatever you have said or done in your anger.

Tells you it's fine, pulls your head down to rest on his lap while he combs his fingers through your hair until your tension has eased off the rest of the way, not faulting you for your moment of vulnerability. Might tauntingly mention that he *should* punish you for being so troublesome, but he's honestly more focused on ensuring you recover.

He really has more trouble dealing with your depressive episodes—he can't stand the thought of you being so low that you can't even pull yourself out of bed.

Mihawk understands that patience is absolutely vital in such cases, but he's not sure whether it's better to give you space or keep you company; to try to convince you to talk, to just hold you quietly, or to leave you to your own devices until you recover on your own.

So in those instances, he's a bit all over the place, and more than a bit frustrated. More likely to be short or snappish in spite of himself. He desires complete control over all aspects of his life, and being at a loss of what to do drives him up a wall, especially if it concerns your well-being and his ability (or inability) to fix it.

He's not going to put you in your place for anything until he's sure you've leveled out, that it won't trigger you or make things worse.

Not until you're able to calmly discuss what's been going on with you, until you're able to laugh and smile and breathe easy in the wake of your own turbulent emotions.

He might punish you relentlessly for being intentionally bratty, for being a sarcastic little shit and clearly doing it to test his patience for the fun of it. In that case, he might pin you to the bed, might tease you to the very edge of sanity, might make you beg and plead for relief or release, but only then.

You're still his lover, and he doesn't have any intention of hurting you in any way that could be lasting, in any way that isn’t consensual—in any way that could make your inner turmoil any more difficult to bear.

[quinacridonered]

Rings of Power Recap - Season 2, Episode 2

Durin Jr.: I miss fancy food.

Disa: At least we are not eating rocks.

Earth: *quakes*

Crop Illumination System: *dies*

Durin Jr.: We are now.

--

Elf Principal: Commander Galadriel?

Galadriel: Huh? 

Elf Principal: You wouldn’t be tripping balls in the middle of a military strategy meeting, would you, Commander?

Galadriel: I was but it won’t stop me from rendering an opinion. 

Elf Principal: What did you see?

Galadriel: Sauron eating Celebrimbor for breakfast. And lunch. And dinner. And a series of mid-day snacks.

Elf Principal: Nah. Eregion security is the stuff of legend.

Galadriel: So is Celebrimbor’s insecurity.

Elf Principal: Should have invited him to the Rings launch party.

--

Celebrimbor: Wash-resistant human?

Assistant: Still here.

Celebrimbor: Party invitations from Lindon?

Assistant: Not here.

Celebrimbor: Surely ’tis but an oversight, but just in case I’m going to try and invent the telegraph.

Murdered Messengers from Lindon: You go, dude.

--

Bulgarian Folk Choir: We are here to indicate mysterious Eastern Otherness.

Probably Not Saruman: Consider it indicated. Any news?

Resurrected Acolyte: No. Homeless Wizard kicked my ass.

Probably Not Saruman: Perhaps I should unresurrect you.

Minion: Permission to slaughter his hobbit friends?

Probably Not Saruman: That would diminish their hostage value, but give it a whirl.

--

Dwarven Mountain Communication Choir: LAAAAAAA!

Mountain: Nope.

--

Galadriel: Come with us to check on Celebrimbor.

Elrond: You’re interrupting my occupational therapy.

Galadriel: Talk to me, friend.

Elrond: Considering your other friends, it is a moniker I no longer desire.

Elf Elder: Channel your rage by exerting control.

Galadriel: That sounds kind of Sauronian.

Elrond: Just to be contrary, I’ll go.

Elf Elder: Good call, but promise me you’ll try yoga and meditation.

--

Homeless Wizard: I found a stick. Should my name be Stick Man?

Minions: Come with us and we’ll sort it out.

Homeless Wizard: *swears in Quenya*

Minions: Wheeee!

Hobbits: Wheeee!

Homeless Wizard: Field notes. Swearing in Quenya raises a hurricane. Will try to swear in Sindarin going forward.

--

Celebrimbor: Please leave.

Sauron: I have ring intel.

Celebrimbor: Please stay.

Sauron: Eh. I gather I’m not wanted.

Celebrimbor: If you tell me about the rings, I’ll give you dinner.

Sauron: They worked.

Celebrimbor: Was there a party?

Sauron: Yes, but they didn’t invite you because nobody likes you except me.

Celebrimbor: My next move is to get drunk on ancient booze.

Sauron: Or you could make some rings for humans.

Celebrimbor: Don’t tell me what to make.

Sauron: Guess we’ll do this the hard way.

Forge: *bursts into flames*

Divine Light: *illuminates all*

Angelic Choir: Do we have to?

Sauron: Sing, bitches.

Angelic Choir: LAAAAAAA!

Sauron: Have you considered accepting me as your personal saviour?

Celebrimbor: Holy shit, you clean up well.

Sauron: How ‘bout them rings?

Celebrimbor: Sorry, did you say something?

Sauron: *snaps fingers*

Celebrimbor: Ah! Yes! Rings! Circular objects made of metal! 

Sauron: I better tone it down if I want his brain to work.

--

Letter to Dwarves: Lord Celebrimbor requests your presence.

Murdered Messengers from Lindon: Funny how that one went through.

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

Recap for Season 2, Episode 1

[marvelwinchester67]

MORE HAZBIN HOTEL SPOILERS (sort of)

Yeahhhhhhh so remember when we all thought Vaggie was related to Carmilla Carmine somehow? How’s that going cause holy shit I saw the theories about her origins and they were all right. I can’t wait to see what happens next omfg

Angel and Cherri? Love it. Best friends for (after)life.

Husk telling Angel he thought he was better than that when Cherri offered the drugs? Guys I’m totally sane about it I promise

And let’s not forget Angel standing up to Val. (Though there will most likely be consequences next time Angel’s in the studio I fear) he was right. Totally worth telling him to fuck off. Cherri and Husk being there and watching his back? Angel calling them his friends? FUCKIN NIFTY TEARING OUT VAL’S FUR?! TRYING TO CLEAN THE CLUB WHILE DRUNK?! SHE’S SO REAL FOR THAT. I WAS CACKLING. Nifty owns this show for real guys.

Also, just so we’re totally clear, fuck Adam. Fuck Lute. They definitely have something more sinister up their sleeves. But Sera and Em’s designs were so pretty? Like, omg. And that final song? Oh my god I’m vibrating out of my skin right now with this show. I swear it’s so good

(I probably should’ve waited til I saw both episodes 5 and 6 before coming onto tumblr but I couldn’t help myself I was a wreck after ep 5)

[livingbrother]

LO and it's portrayal of S/A

A rant by someone who just finished EP. 98 and is incredibly furious

Cw: Mentions of S/A, it's effects, too much swearing, ED mention, personal stuff that happened to yours truly, lots of other stuff too, just no idea what to tag it as

Don't read this if you're not mentally doing well, I don't want you getting hurt because of my post, I love you, feel better soon

Boy. Oh fucking boy. I just got through episode 98 of this shit show and, I'll just say, I am beyond furious. Livid, in fact.

For context, I am a survivor or sexual abuse and mental abuse, I have dealt with those who act sort of like Apollo, I was never raped, but I was molested as a child. I, as a survivor, feel nothing but rage at how Rachel portrayed Apollo being a rapist. The way he acts is incredibly unrealistic for an abuser, as somebody who dealt with two abusers with Narcissistic Personality Disorder (I'm not saying everyone who has NPD are villains, I'm just saying what I went through), I see what Rachel was trying, but oh so tragically failed, to do. He tried to control, manipulate, and gaslight Persephone. Only for none of it to work, that's not how ANY of it fucking works!

Where is the fucking control, other than just fucking raping her? I get he wants to take the power away from her and be the one to control her, but I've seen none of that! I get she has PTSD over it (I'LL GET TO THIS POINT AGAIN). I NEVER GOT THE SENSE THAT SHE WAS POWERLESS EXCEPT FOR THAT ONE SCENE. I HAVE NEVER SEEN HER QUESTION IF THAT WAS HIS INFLUENCE PICKING HER DRESSES, OR FUCKING EVEN HER FOOD! WHEN I WAS LIVING WITH ONE OF MY ABUSERS, SHE'D PICK OUT MY OUTFITS, ONE'S I HATED, AND I STILL CHOOSE SOME OF THOSE OUTFITS, TO THIS DAY! WHERE WAS HER LOSS OF CONTROL? SHE NEVER FELT ISOLATED, SHE NEVER FELT LIKE SHE WAS TRAPPED. YES. SHE WAS TRAPPED IN THAT ONE ROOM WITH HIM, BUT EVEN THEN! SHE HAD LEVERAGE OVER HIM WITH THE FUCKING LYRE. Ugh.

About her realizing she was raped, um. Excuse me? A lot of victims don't realize they were raped or abused until like, months or years later. I'm glad for the ones who instantly realized it, good for them. Given Persephone's personality and experience with the world, she wouldn't have known it was rape because she's not accustomed to dating and sexual culture. On top of that, she isn't really seen actually distressed when she remembers, oh, and lets not forget that she WAS FUCKING FINE WITH TOUCH AND PHYSICAL FLIRTING DAYS AFTER HER ASSAULT. Let me remind you that I have been through this thing myself, you do not just omg I was just assaulted! time to go let someone touch me! Nonono, you spend years jumping when people touch you, years of moving when someone tries to grab your shoulder, years of pushing someone's hand off your arm, years screaming when you get a hug. And then, maybe from flashbacks, maybe from googling things, you discover you were molested! And then it alllllll makes sense. I understand if she became hypersexual, cause same, but that usually doesn't set in until a good long while.

I also hate how Apollo is written, he should have stayed as a shitty ex boyfriend or whatever the fuck Rachel was gonna make him, he just comes across as a cartoonish villain than an abuser. The man just fucking rubs his hands together and fucking goes I'll get you next time my pretty! I fucking HATE his writing so goddamn much. I understand wanting to make him pushy, egotistical, and insecure, they're some of the hallmarks of the pushy nice guy she was going for. But when it comes to him being abusive, it's like watching a bad joke. Rapists don't usually, you know, CATCH FEELINGS FOR THEIR VICTIM (correct me if I'm wrong), unless it's to lure them back in to hurt them again. She made him so obviously evil it hurts, abusers don't usually act that way, they put on a pretty smile, act kind, and behind closed doors, act shitty. I respect 97-98 for getting that part right, but too many times, too many fucking times Rachel has gotten that wrong. I have dealt with this myself, my mother did this exact thing, she even put on the pretty smile for me so even I, somebody who knew he was being tormented, questioned whether or not I was being abused! We never see this with Persephone! We never see her getting gaslit with this, she never questions her reality! She knows everything that's going on for sure! I know what Rachel was aiming for, and she failed miserably!

God, on top of this, we never really get to see Persephone's PTSD unless the story fuckin says Apollo's here! She's never really fucking affected by her rape, we don't see her jump from touches, refuse sexual advanced from Hades, yeah, sure, we see her afraid of camera flashes, but that's about it!!!!!!!! She never really experiences the effects of s/a! I developed an ED and agoraphobia from my abuse! Where the fuck is that?! That would have been a lot more fucking interesting than the slop we fucking got!

I know I've missed some things, but I need to calm down before I pop a blood vessel. I might revisit this post when I'm less angry, I just needed to rant.

[fluffypotatey]

Leverage 2x02

This show is so good why did it take me so long to come back T^T

Tap-Out Job they say… wonder if that’s bdsm or boxing. ELIOT EPISODE???👀👀👀👀please 🙏 please be an Eliot episode

ooooh Nebraska

IT IS BOXING

idk shit about boxing but my guess is that there’s steroids involved

Oh he looks drugged

Yikes

He’s fine

Maybe dead

Probably dead

God this intro 😂 so cheesy I love it

Oh so he’s still alive

Hmmmmm plant closed, Rucker something…..dots connecting

Ok so Rucker is a big deal wrestling ceo? He want a monopoly 

Awww Eliot geeking out over boxing 🥺🥺🥺 he better play. I want him to. For reasons

He’s been teaching Parker 🥺

Rip Hardinson

“Pilates or yoga?” Nate is so good at playing the ditzy asshole. Like he already is an asshole so it’s fun to see him play it up for cons

Hardinson talking about his special golf balls is so sweet but I have no idea what some of the words he is saying means but please keep talking sweetie

Rucker talking all polite but oh you can feel the anger in it 😂😂😂

ELIOT

YESSSSSSSSSSS YESSSSSSSSS

Jesus Christ what the fuck Rucker

YEAH ELIOT FUCK THEM UP

Parker’s little disguise 😂😂😂

Sophie :( chicken fried steak is good

“I can see you’ve had some training.” “…..some.” yeah some is right 

That’s a nice headshot, Sophie

Awwww Eliot 🥺 he needs to stop acting all soft and nervous I wanna squish him

ELIOT EPISODE! ELIOT EPISODE! ELIOT EPISODE! 

Sophie >:( pork rinds are good

ELIOT MY BELOVED!!!! He needs to stop being so sweet 🥺 Hardinson watch out

“White people doing white people things” 💀💀💀

Ok and how are they gonna steal a concert 🤨

Jesus, dude can’t you be nice :(

HEEHAW??????

Hardinson needing to check his name tag 💀💀💀

is that how tv works???? <- genuine question 

JIMMY YOU SNITCH

JENNY YOU SNITCH

ah shit

Tank, aka the dude who almost killed Mark. hmmmmm ‘spicious

oh come on, Rucker, playing your cards so soon??? you are going to let the con men know you know????  rookie mistake

Ok wait were they actually going to hurt Sophie >:(((((

Ugh Nate stop doing that!!! You didn’t have to let them know about Parker or Hardinson (BUT HE DOES IT BECAUSE HE CARES AND I KNOW THAT BUT NATE!!!!!)

Rucker really wants Eliot lmao

Rucker >:( 

Yessssss I believe in you Eliot (<- just wants to see him fight)

Ok uh, Eliot, I don’t trust this gym 

“I can take the punishment. It’s what I do.” Eliot what the fuck does that mean?????

I swear if they try to drug Eliot

BET IT ALL????? RUCKER????

Rucker that doesn’t sound legal

IF HIS WATER IS DRUGGED IMMA CRY

man I’m stressed

I want Eliot to win actually 

HE IS BLEEDING

NOOOOOOOOOO

I FUCKINH KNEW IT

is Tank dead????? 

OH SHIT 

ELIOT NO

NOOOOOOOOOOO HE IS SO SAD

of course he’s running lol

Ok but what if Tank isn’t dead and this was all a ploy

IS IT??????

I fucking knew it

PARKER

AND A SAX???????

I fucking knew the bet was through Hardinson!!!!!!

“Where’s your cousin Jinny now?” I LOVE HIM

AWWWWWWWWW happy ending 🥺🥺🥺🥺

YAY SHE LIKES PORK RINDS

General thoughts

ELIOT EPISODE!!!!!! It’s kind of sweet how we sort of know when each episode will focus on each character. Like Eliot is when they go rural, and Nate is if there are children. So I can now check off boxer after horse girl with Eliot ✅ and it’s interesting how can still see a strain on Sophie and Eliot’s dynamic but this time doesn’t have to do with betrayal but just understanding now. 

And ough the way Eliot plays the skittish dude who works under Nate out of debt for the com was just *chef’s kiss* I would have fallen for that persona instantly if he played THAG on me. The way this team would have conned me so bad if I was their target lol 

But yeah, this episode was so fun and I can’t believe I was fooled into the “Eliot got drugged” scene because these guys are smart!!!!! They would know he would play this and they just pretended like Rucker fooled them and AGHHHHH 🤧 lmao on to next episode 

[unhingedkinfessions]

hi hi !!! its me again <3 kin walmart anon :)

after reading other peoples experiences, ive gotta talk about something that ive noticed is a pretty common thing amongst certain types of kin servers. and thats just… blacklists that are both user compiled and extremely strict.

this never made sense to me. especially if said blacklist is 400 miles long and has some of the wackiest shit on it. i actually still have access to the one from kin walmart, here are some of my favs:

- the word “bounce”

- the phrase “bouncing ball”

- mother mentions (all forms: mom, mother, etc)

- oranges (the fruit)

- school/mentions of schoolwork

- therapy

- Talking about private conversations/going to have a private conversation in a public setting

- any mention of the ocean

-

im also going to say, blacklists are fine. user compiled blacklists are okay but… i think there should be a better way to manage them. especially in spaces that have 100+ members. no hate to anyone who has these triggers either. i just think that there’s a line. there should be a line. and most times, ive found that the line is nonexistent. it should be up to user’s specifically to adjust their experience accordingly. im so sorry that i want to talk about the bouncing ball i stole from dollar general, maybe just dont read the conversation.

i understand that this take can be somewhat controversial, its why i don’t… talk about it without hiding behind anonymity. but i think, especially in kin spaces, blacklists are almost… idk.. taken advantage of?

idk this ended up being more rambly than intended, i just love talking about kin walmart and some of the whacky shit that went on there. stay tuned for our next episode; kin home depot

- kin walmart anon

NO YOU'RE SO RIGHT IS THE THING. there is a point where you need to be responsible for yourself and not place the responsibility/blame on others for not remembering every trigger on a mile long blacklist. you have to know when to step away from a conversation if there's a topic that triggers or upsets you, not demand everyone else conform to You. especially if it's extremely specific (such as the bounce example you gave) or extremely vague and frequently mentioned (moms, school, etc.). there's a lot of issues with those kinds of things and if you're in a Public space with lots of people, you gotta be responsible for your own well-being. it's different if it's a smaller group of friends, of course. there's a difference between 'friends' who continuously overstep your boundaries/comfort and large servers where people are just going to make general discussion about whatever.

the amnt of servers ive been in w mile-long user-compiled blacklists where people throw a gd Fit if you so much as allude to one of the 5000 "problematic medias" theyve put on the bl.... ok not that much actually cuz im thinking of one example in particular i was in multiple servers w. but you know. and a lot of shit can just be like. squicks or stuff they don't like, rather than something that will genuinely trigger them.

i swear some kinnies just can't manage big servers in general. once i was in a server of at Least 100 members - that was not even a kin server, it was for smth else but had a lot of kinnies - where there weren't any like, actual chat moderators (just some ppl who had permissions for unrelated reasons). there was a user-compiled blacklist that was rarely updated w requests, and one day out of boredom & frustration with the lack of organization, i went and sorted the long ass list by Category and Alphabetically. i was not even a mod i just DID THAT. the admins of that server sucked so bad they didn't know how to manage anything and were generally some of the worst people on the planet.

[sodiumlamp]

Picard

So this is actually where I came in, because I put the wrong disc in my DVD player, and it took me 10-15 minutes to figure out that it was Season 3 instead of Season 1.

My initial impression was that it looked kind of ridiculous for Dr. Crusher, now 70 years old if I'm not mistaken, to get in a crazy laser gun shootout. I mean, I don't know who's chasing her, but presumably they sent two of their better henchmen to get her, and she smokes both their asses. I could live with that, because the good guys always do a little better than they ought to in these kinds of situations, but there's a couple of moments where she just darts across the room to get to a better position, and the bad guys just sort of shoot at everything else in the scene while she's out in the open less than twenty feet away.

But now that I've seen Seasons 1 and 2, I realize this is just how the show rolls. Ridiculous gymkata battles, ridiculous BFG shootouts, it's all good on Star Trek: Picard. I guess I should be grateful Beverly didn't spin kick an alien, but there's still nine more episodes for that to happen.

Wait: Fantasy booking. Crusher and Troi have to stop a bad guy, and they lure him into a hallway with a mirror in it, and he's like "What the hell is going on here?" Then they come out wearing their backwards aerobics gear from TNG Season 3, and karate the shit out of him. I mean flips and kicks and elbows all over the place. Then the bad guy tries to open a door to escape, but Geordi rolls under the bottom of it and he's all "Going somewhere?" and bam! He kicks him in the nuts! Take that, alien bad guy! Then Geordi shoots heat vision from his cyborg eyes and he says "Take a look, it's in a book!" Then he says "fuck", because this is Picard and everyone swears.

Crusher sends a coded distress call to Picard and he takes like... a week to respond. First he gets the message, and Crusher explicitly warns Picard to "trust no one". He immediately tells his housekeeper to get her advice. Crusher also warns Picard not to go through Starfleet, so the next person he tells is Will Riker, his old buddy from Starfleet. Riker's idea is to get on a Starfleet ship and pull rank to get it to take them where they want to go. The ship's captain, a man named Shaw, tells them no, because he's not an idiot.

Okay, so the show goes out of its way to make Captain Shaw look like the biggest horse's ass in the universe. When they board the ship, they're greeted by his XO, Seven of Nine, who's now a real Starfleet Officer. But he makes her go by Annika Hansen. I thought Seven preferred Annika for a hot minute, but maybe I missed something. It's still weird that Captain Shaw can just order you to change your name and there's no Starfleet HR you can take that up with.

Shaw invites them to dinner in the captain's mess, but he's already eating when they get there, and he makes some weird joke about it to explain his behavior. Then he makes fun of Riker's musical tastes, and says a bunch of shit to Picard, who's a friggin' admiral for pity's sake. They really, really want you to hate this guy, but they overdid it. It just made me wonder how he got a command in the first place.

The idea is that you're supposed to think Captain Shaw's a jerk when he refuses to take Picard and Riker where they want to go, but no. He's a jerk for unrelated reasons. He's kind of within his rights to refuse their order for a course change, since he has orders from higher up to go where they're already going. So Seven does it behind his back while he's asleep, because she's the cool Starfleet officer who helps out the main characters when they're in a jam. Pretty sure she'll get court martialed for this, but no one seems to care. I think Shaw dies in a few episodes anyway, so it won't matter, but this is still incredibly dumb.

I mean... Picard had the exact same problem in Season 1. He needed to search for Bruce Maddox, but he couldn't involve Starfleet because he didn't work there anymore, so he made a few calls and hired Rios to take him where he needed to go. Why couldn't he just hire another private ship to do the same thing? Instead, they hijacked Captain Shaw's ship, and got caught the second Captain Shaw looked out the damn window. Then they stole a shuttlecraft to get the rest of the way. What were they going to do when they got back? Bring an injured Dr. Crusher onto the ship and pretend like they just happened to find her? She told Picard "no Starfleet" and now Shaw's going to file an official report to Starfleet about it.

All right, so they make it to Crusher's ship and they take their sweet-ass time searching for her, even though their sensors confirmed she's wounded. Fortunately, they find her in a healing tank. That's sad, because it'll take like fifteen episodes for her to get back to full strength, and Picard and Riker will have to fight Frieza by themselves in the meantime... wait.

The other guy on the ship claims to be her son? Everyone mumbles their lines on this show, especially whenever they state important exposition. It's not Wesley, since we just saw him in the last episode. It looks more like that guy who played Adult Wesley when Riker got Q powers and turned him into a grown man. I don't know if that's what they were going for, but it's the first thing I thought of.

The bad guy ship closes in on them, and Picard's like "Who's after you?" and the guy's like "See for yourself", and we see the ship, but I don't recognize it. Usually when they do that on a TV show, it's so the audience can see it's someone they recognize. Like you'd see a Cardassian ship and go "Oh, so the Cardassians are after her... but why?" But it's some new ship design which tells us nothing. Dr. Crusher's other son is a jerk.

While all of this is going on, Raffi is off doing her own separate TV show where she's trying to prevent a terrorist attack and fails miserably. She's all weepy and bitchy and annoying and it's impossible to tell what's going on with her. I remember being frustrated that we never got closure on her estranged son, but now I get why he was fed up with her bullshit. Cripes, imagine being her son. Man, nobody's got time for that.

Speaking of bitchy, I'm getting really sick of how everyone in this show has a beef or points a gun as soon as they show up. It usually happens to Picard, but that's only because he's the main character. Other characters will talk to people, and it immediately turns hostile. Picard goes to meet Raffi and she pulls a gun on him. Raffi goes to reconcile with her son and he tells her to get lost. Picard goes to find Guinan in the past and she pulls a gun on him. Guinan takes Picard to the Watcher lady and she pulls a gun on him.

Picard meets Captain Shaw and Shaw treats him like shit for no good reason at all. Like, you'd think Picard killed his wife or something. That's not even a hypothetical scenario, because Picard killed Sisko's wife and he still treated him more professionally than Shaw does here. Maybe Shaw had two wives and Picard killed them both? No, wait, he had seven wives, and Picard killed four and Riker killed three, and that's why he makes Seven of Nine use her birthname.

Sorry, I got off track there. Picard and Riker go to save the Crushers and Beverly's son... you guessed it... pulls a gun on them. It's a cool trick when used sparingly, but watching this show you'd think it's just a standard greeting in the 25th Century.

And it just keeps happening. Raffi and Seven were dating in Season 2, and all they did was bicker constantly. Rios and Jurati bickered a lot, but they were no longer dating. The key thing is to bicker, regardless of your romantic status. This might explain why Elnor hardly ever did anything on the show. His whole deal was "absolute candor", speaking honestly and without reservation. So it's hard to have him get in an argument with a friend or comrade, because if he was really hot at someone he would just say "I'm very mad at you" and leave. The writers didn't know how to write for him.

The biggest annoyance I have is when Picard first approaches Riker, and apologizes for taking him away from his family, and instead Riker notes that Deanna and Kestra would enjoy some time away from him. The fuck? We're doing a separation subplot with Riker now? We already did estranged Riker and Troi, and it was all seven seasons of TNG, plus two of the movies!

She'll be joining him before this show is over, so maybe they're just setting up some drama for later. It's not a terrible idea, but I don't trust this show to get it right, because they just have everyone mad at everyone else all the time. Worf and Geordi will probably show up later and they'll pull guns on each other and bicker about their failed marriage to each other. Then they'll see Picard and put aside their mutual loathing to point their guns at him, their common enemy.

This show is a tire fire. I don't like it.

[okami-zero]

Endwalker

So I am glad I decided to postpone taking that quest until today because...

I just finished it. I finished Endwalker (well, 6.0, at any rate).

Cut for spoilers

So when we got to Ultima Thule, I really did not know what to expect. Then Thancred goes missing (which I dreaded as soon as I saw him go at Meteion). And then I figured Estinien was going to provoke the indolent dragons back to some semblance of their former selves, but nope! And and and... I mean, even without the focus, I could rather tell which Scion was going to square off with which tortured nihilist souls. Fucking Raha MADE ME CRY, GODSDAMMIT. The song playing for that part prolonged it, just...

And then THE TWINS MADE ME CRY. (SQUEENIX I SWEAR TO HALONE YOU LET ME HUG ALISAIE RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!!) But what really got me bawling was after the twins.

The walk. And hearing all those voices (including some no longer with us). I was mostly recovered from the twins, but then the first voice came at me and I'm like, "...wait what...? Was that...?" ANd I started walking to the next shadow - and it's Papalymo. And then Moenbryda. And I was a fucking mess, doing my best to be able to hear each voice. Hien made me smile, as did Midgardsormr (or was it Seto?), but you know who just fucking ended me for several minutes?

Ardbert saying "Let's end this". God, I am gonna cry again, hang on...

Okay, I'm good, at least to finish this.

And then, Hades and Hythlodaeus! <3 And that whole stretch. Using the Ancients' creation magic to finally get through to Meteion (that hurt my heart to see, too). Hades whole thing about why he gave Akagi Azem's stone, urging him to do as Azem did and explore? Loved it! And then...look, I will never not get the shivers when the Azem summon goes off, okay? It's got the same power as when in one of the last episodes of G Gundam before a boss fight, Nastasha goes, "RING THE BELL, DOMON KASSHU!" (Get the fight started, basically, but there's more to it, just trust me). And it's not really the shivers, sort of? Like, it's hard to describe but the power of it, gets me every time.

And Akagi being a shit and teleporting everyone away. And then The OTHER Azem summon and the Trial...and me and another person were first timers, and the folks in there asked how we were liking Endwalker (Me: "Lots of tears, but good!"). I, uh, *really* need to get better about my mititgation (Trusts have spoiled me a bit) and I went into the fight blind, so I missed some dodges and died twice, almost in a row (us tanks both went down the second time, same hit, too. And we were both PLD LOL). But they were super awesome. And I thought we failed the run... And then the cutscene with the Scions praying on the Ragnarok... oof. Just, everybody was like "LET'S FUCKING GOOOOO!!!" and we nailed it.

And CBU3 punched my feels again when Meteion is lamenting to Akagi (look, there were so many places in Endwalker where Akagi's natural predilection to hugs was sorely tested, okay?). The thing that killed me, after her once more asking if they can be friends, was the little sob-gasp and the tear after he takes her hand. Like, he just opened up and let her see and feel everything. Brought her back from the brink. That little moment, right there... all but indelibly etched into my mind.

And THEN, Zenos. Who showed up and backed us up for Endsinger, yea, okay. But finally, he got the showdown he wanted, and Akagi putting everything he had in that last punch? Totally on point. Also, his teleport device (which should have been back on the Ragnarok) showing up right then? Honestly, it's kind of up to interpretation, but... my money is Meteion or one of the Ancients. Somehow.

And the waking up. So this scene just...Raha and Alisaie... Now this scene I need to rewrite, because Akagi would be hugging the shit out of all of them, possibly breaking down a bit (honestly, he would probably have a full-on breakdown once they had been back, whether at the Annex or the Stones. Just, waking from a nightmare and needing everyone there for him to see, to feel, reassure himself that they were okay, that he made it, that they all made it. And then the "disbanding" of the Scions was tough, too. But in a good way. ^_^ Another thing, he would make sure that they knew that they are his family now. More than comrades, more than friends. Family.

And, uh...Azem. That was Azem, right? (Do they use a different VA if the WoL is female? Or is it the same?) But...that voice...and Pandaemonium, eh? Oooh...

So got some new quests to pick up. x3

But I am heading for bed because I stayed up til 4 fucking AM EST to do this, because I did NOT want to break this up, I wanted the whole finale in one go, in my face and DAMN.

Let's see if I can sleep, so much to process.

And maybe some writing this weekend, because m muse finally decides to wake up after all that. Should get through my asks first, but yea. x3

Okami, out (like a light).

[unknownjpegs]

bracelet

Xavier’s got the nicer place. Screen-windowed front patio. Fancy shit, even if there's a few tears in certain corners. Maran's never had a nice setup like that to watch the sunrise, so it's usually Maran usually spends his Saturday mornings. There’s an old CRT television in the corner that Lark found at the thrift store. It sits on a fold-out table that tilts slightly, retired from a long career of shouldering chaotic beer pong. He isn’t sure how the television stays working with the humidity how it is in the summer. Yet even with the flicker of pixels down its picture’s center, the image is good enough for cartoons. Nostalgic.

Maran lounges back on the cushioned wicker loveseat to take a picture of the open screen, the post-rain blue sky, and the flicker of static across Teen Titans. He opens his message thread with Nomi, grins at the last meme she’s sent, and offers the little peek into his morning. He knows she likes that sort of thing, the aesthetic of it or whatever. 

how did you know i want to do raven for halloween!! o:

Maran stares at the reply, blinks twice, and then sets his phone aside. For sanity’s sake. 

*

He’s about three episodes in when the door to the patio opens. From within the flat float the noises of Benji making breakfast; coffee pot, the blender, buttery something sizzling on the stovetop. 

It’s not Benji’s who peeks his head in, but Benny. 

Maran smiles upside-down at him, feeling strangely tense and awkward all of a sudden. He’s been paying full attention to the show, but only half attention to the woven bracelets he’s been working on. He learned to make them as a kid; now, he can expertly work through an intricate loop stitch and memorize patterns with his eyes closed. Muscle memory, and all that. 

Except when he tips his head back to greet the man, his fingers fumble. He feels the strings, which he’d carefully color separated, lose shape and tangle together. 

“What’re you doing?”

Maran holds up the tangle of strings. “Bracelet.”

Benny dances down the steps, drops to sit next to him with legs kicked out onto the coffee table — also thrifted.

“You s-s-shouldn’t have.” Benny coos, putting both hands to his chest. Maran barely glances then back up immediately, which isn’t much better. His dishwater blond eyebrows tuck in, annoyed. Maran’s never understood that. He gets it, sure,. But he figures Benny might feel a bit better directing that annoyance at the people acting like dickheads about how he talks, rather than at himself

He clutches the bracelet to his own, eyes slitting teasingly. “It’s not for you.”

“Yeah?” He tsks, adds a mean little eye roll that makes Maran’s stomach flip.  “T-Traitor. Who, then?”

He opens his mouth to answer. Navy blue string between thumb and forefinger. Maran realizes: no, actually. He can’t think about Nomi while looking at Benny, for some strange reason. 

The last time he’d been in the same room with both of them, it was the first Benny invited him over for a movie. He hadn’t expected to find Nomi there as well, on her way out (always busy with herself busy, in the lazily introverted way he admired) but fresh from the shower. The smell of her had been dizzying — familiar, too. Benny’s spicy-clean body wash. Up until that exact moment of oh, shit realization, he couldn’t remember a time feeling his face go as warm as it had then.

“What colors you want?” Maran leans forward to turn the show down, but Benny swipes the remote from him and doubles the volume.

“You mind? I’m invested.”

“Pft. You never seen this a day in your life.” Maran snorts. He lifts the organized little box of thread for Benny to point out his selections; the ugly dirt-orange he never uses, an electric green, and clashing white-mottled teal.

“I swear to fucking God, Maran, if you say —“

“Did they even do cartoons in color when you were growin’ up?” 

He hadn’t even noticed Ben slip a hand over his knee until it rests just at his thigh — until he pinches. Maran yelps and jerks away, flushing hot at the mean laugh his reaction earns.

*

Maran loves that laugh. He loves hearing it — earning it, rather. It’s not the laugh Ben usually offers. Has to be a nasty fucking joke, a comment that shocks that noise out of him. 

It never gets old. 

He watches how it opens Ben’s face up, at least what is visible beneath the tattooed hand splayed over his laughing mouth. It falls back to the mattress with a soft thump. When he turns his head to stare at Maran, eyes softly melted, Maran’s chest compresses like someone has squeezed him right around the center.

“That has got to b-be one of the most fucking unhinged things you have ever said.”

“Well it won’t.” Maran retorts. The laugh creeps in; he’s still regaining his breath, and the next airy giggle undoes all that work. His fingers trace the slightly fraying braid of string around Benny’s wrist;he’s careful with the bracelet, despite its ugly colors having gone uglier over time. 

“And what if it does—“ Benny grunts when he pulls himself upright, crawls across messy sheets to flop over that pale chest like deadweight. “Fall off?”

“We’ll make it work, obvs.” He squirms, knees tucking up to rest either side of Benny’s hips. Every bit of them that he’d like to touch does. Maran muffles a little noise into his neck and then sits up. He waits a beat, because the placement of hands on the small of his back is inevitable this way. Benny’s got tells, but even if he hadn’t Maran would be able to read him. The sly quirk of his mouth betraying the feigned exhaustion, fingers groping around his waist and tacky thighs. 

Thinking about that, pressing closer and tucking arms between warm skin and the sheet, makes him blush even harder than he already is.

“Yeah I’m s-sure you’re fucking full up on ideas.”

Maran snorts and goes to his elbows, touching their noses together. “Actually I did have one.”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Benny warns, although his hands keep up their appreciative sweeps. And when Maran adjusts a bit more, seated comfortable in his lap, he feels how that’s a lie. 

“I wanted to try it like this.”

He blurts it before the words die — no, the confidence. It’s always easier in his imagination, when he’s alone and trying to practice how to be like Benny. Unapologetic about what he wants, never hesitating to say something he knows Maran will want to hear even if it’s nasty. And Maran struggles even with a vague try it like this.

Sitting upright and arching into the next pass of hands over his body seems to get the point across, though. Benny’s eyes do that little switch flip he loves to witness; go dark and liquid, remind him of the awful bitter black coffee he prefers. Except warmer, except there’s depth in that color. It cuts through with a clear ‘this one’s going to make you fucking cry’ edge.

“You say shit like that —“

“Hmmm, I don’t know how.” 

Benny drops his head back and groans, both of his hands leaving Maran to press heels against his eyes. “What did I just fuckin’ say.”

“I don’t.” Maran leans forward, hands braced on his chest, and offers him a slow kiss. He can barely keep the smirk off his face when he speaks next: “I think I can manage it with a little help though?”

“I’m g-going to figure out how to say no to you one day, and you’ll be —“

“I can just copy what Nomi does,” Maran says, continuing as if he hadn’t answered at all. He taps his chin, dramatically innocent, and rolls his hips forward with a bit of showmanship. “She makes it look easy.” 

When he moves again, it brings more of them into contact. Ben’s properly — predictably — hard against his stomach. So despite the flurry of bitten off swears, despite the twisted expression on his stubbly, handsome face: Maran isn’t told no. He’s told a lot of things in the next few moments, most of them nice and nasty in a way that burns a trail down his spine. And when he’s properly seated again, panting already from the sensation of being filled so much, so soon, he finds it’s actually easy. 

The rhythm is unsteady because he feels that way, feels messy and loose but tight all over his body, muscles sore and overworked but still flexing. He’s got to use ones he hasn’t in a long time. His thighs burn from the strain and the rough pace, abdomen sore as he moves. 

“This — s’too much— oh, fuck that’s different.” Maran finds himself whining. The breath is punched out of him with every thrust from below. They’re purposeful and hard the way he likes, but at the angle not quite enough; if he wants that, he has to work for it. He isn’t sure he has it in him. He goes, instead, for the strategic route: “Ben.”

“You’re going to tap, huh?” The words get purred right into his ear. “Act like that, try and take charge. Still end up begging for me to lay you out and fuck you right?”

Maran hides a gasping grin into the sheets, clutching them in either fist. Then he musters whatever he can, severe and determined twist to his mouth, to sit up. Makes a bit of a show about it, maybe; beneath his palms, Benny’s chest heaves with a rough inhale. 

His cheeks might as well be on fire. He imagines steams escapes him like a cartoon character— he releases his lip caging teeth and makes hooded eye contact. It’s not a slow burn, or a coil that starts like a calf cramp. It’s an immediate, sudden slam of the orgasm into his chest. A surprise. His fingers dig into Benny’s bicep, slip up his shoulder and bury between blond strands as he falls forward with a violent shiver. It worsens, becomes full-body, when hands frame his waist and force him to move more, take more. 

And then everything’s nice and soft and cloudy for a long, long moment. 

After Ben’s buried himself deep and properly ensured, with a moan that will live in his head for the next week, that Maran will have more stickiness to be embarrassed about, he slips off and flops to the side. 

“Holy shit,” he laughs deliriously. He glances at Ben, who already has eyes glued to his face. He grins/. “Once I get good at that—“

He gasps as a hand snaps around his jaw, holding him still as Ben nudges a knee between his to push them open. He looks dangerous and angry above Maran, looming so that a cool shadow blocks out the afternoon sun as it pours through the window.  Ben looks incredible, powerful and frightening and handsome, beautiful — Maran can’t decide on a word, faced with that frightening intensity that pours off him in waves.

“Flip over.”

Maran’s breath hitches. He obeys. His eyes cross as a hand lands near his head, planted firmly to the mattress, and then Ben drapes himself across Maran’s back. His other arm bends, journeying down his ribs and around his hip until he has to lift and then it’s — 

He stares at the trio of ugly, awful colors until his vision blurs, eyes rolling and jaw slacking as Benny works him to another one. It aches. It’s almost painful. So fucking good, though. Gets him to a volume he’s never heard from himself before. Whatever noises he usually has the brains to muffle come out unbidden. Mostly because Benny decides (knows, maybe) the ideal companion to three expertly angled fingers fucking into him is that particular brand of mean teasing. 

Nothing else coherent leaves him. If there are words, syllables, Maran’s hoarse cries eat them away.

“Just copy Nomi,” Benny growls against his shoulder, teeth sliding over sweaty skin. The movements of his wrist are snapping and quick. Maran arches away and into the touch, tries to shove himself back but is held firmly in place. “The fuck’s the matter with you?” 

“Harder.”

It’s the singular response he’s capable of, a ragged moan trailing the word. Benny mirrors it, teeth snapping down around flesh. Still doesn’t say no. 

*

Months later, Maran realizes what he misses most about America are the hobby shops. The sprawling, sort-of-scary fluorescent lit aisles. A warehouse. One that he could get happily lost in, preferably with someone, piling his arms full and laughing raucously at the tacky God Bless This Farm mass produced wall art.

He goes to four different shops trying to find that specific orange thread. He pinches his phone screen to zoom in on pictures, spends time scouring hobby forums where weirdos like him value hard to find material. Tucks a hand over his mouth watching videos captured by Nomi and sent to him. Peers at that bracelet on a pale wrist and searches searches searches for a similar shade. He never can find it. And he spirals a bit. Wonders how many of those silly little bracelets he would need to cross the distance. Thousands and thousands of miles, an ugly burnt orange. 

He experiments with hair dye and developer until he finds it the closest match. And when he paints the color carefully onto his scalp (alone, for the first time) he misses a spot. He can see it at the nape of his neck, a stark bleach-yellow splotch. There are tears dripping from his chin when he goes to retrieve his phone. He even forgets to take the gloves off; the little bear phone grip Nomi had bought him will forever have a stain of orange.

He snaps a quick half-face selfie, red brimming eyes and the drama of wet cheeks melting the self pitying sadness by a degree. It takes a second for the photo to send (distance, his mind supplies). 

i missed a spot :(((((( 

The response back is immediate. And the image of Ben carrying his phone around for once, keeping it in a pocket instead of losing it for a week in a pile of clothes or someone’s car or a tucked-away study room..

Maran’s crying starts back up. He forgets the timer — lets the dye sit ten minutes over the recommendation. When he finally rinses it out to assess the damage, the orange is wrong.

[tsvkishma]

you wanna kiss me so bad, huh?

series: my hero academia / boku no hero academia

pairings: katsuki bakugo x reader

length: 5k words

warnings: swearing, mentions of making out (w/ a minor), breach of privacy??

tags: secret relationship, enemies to lovers, high school AU, reader-insert

summary: the mutual agreement between you and your bf to keep your relationship on the DL is about to be ruined when he makes the stupid mistake to leave his phone on the table for the whole class to see

author’s note: i’m so sorry! i really tried to make it gender neutral, but it was female leaning... i apologize! i’m still pretty new to writing dis homie so please be lenient when it comes to character accuracy lol. i also apologize for the messy, unstructured writing. also thank u to bae @izvkos for proofreading!

Just as you were getting ready to doze off, the school bell rang, startling you and making you jerk up from your comfortable position on the desk with your head in your arms. Some of your classmates got up to stretch, since it was the break time between classes. Unfortunately, it had only been the end of third period and you had a long school day to go through. You let out a low groan of disappointment. I guess I’ll have to keep myself awake just a little bit longer.

To be honest, you didn’t mean to stay up all night... it was just that you couldn’t help binge-watching your favorite show last night. You convinced yourself that you were only going to watch one episode before you went to sleep... then one lead to two... then three... and then before you knew it, the birds started chirping. But, hey! It wasn’t your fault that it was so addicting!

“Oi.”

You look up to see Bakugo peering over you with his hands in his pockets and a smirk on his face, “Tch, you don’t look so good today. Didn’t get enough sleep? How are you gonna be a pro hero with those bad habits of yours?”

You scoffed, “Oh, fuck off. Sorry I don’t go to sleep at 8 every night… grandpa.”

“Yeah, yeah. Make fun of me all you want, but who’s gonna be laughing when you fail your exams next week. I see you dozing off in class, you act like Aizawa-sensei doesn’t even notice,” Bakugo grunts.

You coo, “Awe, is blasty-boy watching me during class? I didn’t know you were this deeply in love with me! So cute.”

His face went red for a moment before his usual angry expression returned, “I DON’T HAVE A CRUSH ON YOU DAMMIT! I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR STUPID CRAP LIKE THAT!”

“Y/n! Stop teasing Bakugo like that! You know he can’t handle it...” Mina chimed in, joining the fun.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN I CAN’T HANDLE IT?! ” screamed Bakugo.

“Quiet down back there.,” threatened Cementoss as he entered the class to prepare his next lesson.

You and Mina were just laughing at your classmate screaming his head off, it was always an amusing sight if anything. Even though Bakugo denies having a crush on you, it wasn’t true. And you knew that. He had a fat crush on you, but it was more than that! He was your boyfriend.

You guys had kept your relationship on the down-low for about a month now, your relationship only became official about a week ago, but you guys had been going on dates prior. Bakugo wanted to keep your relationship a secret, you know, to protect his ego or whatever since there has always been a rivalry between the two of you and everyone in Class 1-A was painfully aware of it. He was too proud to let anyone know that he fell for someone he once vouched as his enemy.

-

There was always constant bickering between the two of you. Whether it be something minute or something that you would argue over for a couple of days. It’s not like the arguments were unintentional because they were started just to spite the other. Bickering would start about each other’s fighting technique in battle or even accusing the other of stealing their food from the shared fridge in the dorms.

The rest of your class was so sick and tired of the ongoing feud so one day, they set out a plan (led by Kaminari and Kirishima) to lock you two in a room just to sort out your differences. They set a date where they would trick you two into thinking that there was a class activity that everyone had to attend, but it would just be you two to show up and you would smash the beef between you two, and BOOM! Problem solved.

Just as the day came for the plan, something was weirdly off about you two. The morning of, you two both came into class at the same time and it was dead silent between you two. No bickering, no petty comments, and no evil stares. As more and more people were arriving, they would immediately notice the weird tension in the air. It was strangely quiet, not just because you and Bakugo were silent, but because everyone else was too. The thought of you guys not constantly at each other’s necks that morning sort of put off the rest of the class. It felt weird to talk over the dead silence when they were so used to your guys’ voices as ambiance while they were in conversation.

As the day went on, nothing changed and you guys were still silent and ignoring each other. Obviously, everyone was suspicious about what exactly happened between you two to make you ignore one another. There was no way that you guys were angry at each other because when you were, both of you made it clear by arguing and yelling loudly.

However, before anyone had the chance to ask why you guys were so quiet,  Bakugo decided to approach you for the first time between class periods. At this point, the class was back to normal and having regular conversations with one another during break time, but all of their eyes were on you two, and their voices hushed to pay attention to the tense interaction shared between you two.

“Oi. Let’s talk,” said Bakugo bluntly.

You looked up at his crimson red eyes for a second before looking away as if his presence wasn’t even there. At this point, you didn’t know what to say to him, yet. This fired up Bakugo because within a second he started yelling again.

“HEY DUMBASS! YOU DON’T GET TO IGNORE ME LIKE THAT!” he screamed.

You turned to meet his glare annoyed, “Oh, shut the fuck up. I don’t owe you shit. Leave me alone.”

He tested, “The fuck did you say to me, idiot?!”

“Fuck off, dipshit, all you ever wanna do is yell! And might I add- you do it loudly. Are you such a fucking grandpa that you can’t even hear yourself speak? Can you ever jjust shut. the. fuck. UP!” you yelled back.

The arguing continued and the rest of Class 1-A continued with their previous conversations after seeing you guys back to normal. The tension between you guys soon left their minds as they continued with the rest of their day. Unbeknownst to them, the night before you two were arguing like usual in the kitchen area of the dorms before Bakugo made his first move on you.

-

The argument started with you getting angry at Bakugo for making a mess on the counter after spilling some of his water. It was late at night and no one else was around and you two happened to wake up around the same time to get a drink of water.

“You idiot, clean up your fucking mess. You spilled it all over the counter,” you said as you gestured to the spilled water.

“Tch. I didn’t spill shit. If it bothers you so much, why don’t you go clean it up yourself?” he groaned as he leaned against the counter.

Appalled, you grabbed the roll of paper towels and threw it at his head. He was caught off guard as the roll of paper hit his forehead. It fell and rolled out onto the floor. Now, he was truly annoyed.

“Fuck was that for, huh?!” he said staring at you, smoke practically coming out of his ears.

You laughed, “Just giving you a hand since it seemed like you were too fucking lazy to grab the paper towels yourself. Seems like the grandpa’s getting too old to do stuff for himself, boohoo.”

He growled, rage evident in his face. You laughed to yourself looking away from his face. The next thing you knew, he grabbed you by the shoulders and pushed you against the fridge behind you. You were pinned by his big, rough hands and he was closer to your face than usual, yet still enraged.

You tried to wiggle out of his grip, but it was useless, “Let go of me, idiot! You need to learn how to take a fucking joke.”

He didn’t respond, but he kept his eyes on your face. You tried moving away, but now his grip on your shoulders tightened, making your breath hitch.

“What the fuck is your problem? You want me to say sorry or something? Did the paper towel knock the fucking sense out of you? Let me go!” you argued.

“What happened to all your fucking hero training? Can’t get out of my grip, huh? How pathetic,” he growled in a low tone.

You felt his eyes piercing into your own and it was making you a little bit uncomfortable. He’s never been physical with you, even with the constant bickering between you guys. This was a side of him you’ve never seen.

You started, “Look, did I hurt your feelings or something? Did I hit you really hard on the head? There’s no point in holding me against the fridge. Plus, the handle is kind of hurting my back-”

“Shut up,” he stated plainly.

He looked away, avoiding eye contact with you. Okay.... suspicious much...

You tried moving once again, then he pulled you up from the fridge only to slam you back against it, but this time harder.

“Why can’t you just fucking stay still?!” he started yelling.

“Ow! Because you’re being a fucking weirdo! There’s something fucking wrong with you, it’s starting to creep me out! What the fuck are your intentions anyway, huh?!” you argued back.

His calmness fading, he yelled back, “SHUT THE FUCK UP! ALL YOU EVER DO IS GET ON MY FUCKING NERVES LIKE YOU KNOW EVERY FUCKING THING IN THE WORLD!”

His face was inching closer and closer to your face with each word pouring from his mouth. You smirked at this.

You laughed, teasing, “Oh, you wanna kiss me so bad, huh?”

He immediately froze after hearing that sentence spill from your mouth and avoided eye contact yet again. Oddly enough, he returned to his calmer self... If you didn’t know any better, it was obvious that that sentence held some truth with him.

“Look just-”

Before you could finish your sentence, his lips crashed onto yours. Your eyes shot wide open at the shock of the situation. Bakugo Katsuki fucking kissed you... Bakugo Katsuki. The Bakugo Katsuki who always argued with you. The Bakugo Katsuki who always got on your nerves. THAT Bakugo Katsuki.

Taking you away from your thoughts, he pulled away from the kiss. He examined your face for your reaction, but you were frozen in place with your eyes shot wide open. You didn’t know what to do, as if you were a computer and you were going through some code that you weren’t programmed to handle. He looked away and scoffed at himself, mumbling.

“Of course, she didn’t fucking like that, idiot...” he mumbled.

His grip on you loosened and his hands were brought to his side and he couldn’t bear to look at you in the face again. Breaking from your frozen state, you focused your eyes on him. He pulled his face away from your point of view and was scratching his neck in embarrassment and you could notice the light blush spread on his cheeks. You felt a little tug on your heart that you’ve never felt before when looking at him. At that moment, he was just so freaking cute.

Mentally telling yourself that you’re gonna regret this later, you grabbed his face in your hands and pulled him closer to you again. Your lips locked with his and you closed your eyes to bask in the moment. Only this time, Bakugo’s eyes were shot wide open, but only for a second. Relief soon spread across his face and his eyes rested on your waist, pulling you closer.

Both of you guys wanted nothing more than to stay in that moment forever, the rivalry between you two completely non-existent. As all good things must come to an end, you pulled away from him and your eyes made contact for a second before you both looked away, blushing. Realization soon hit you and you didn’t know what to do next.

“I-”

“Uh-”

You guys stuttered at the same time, making eye contact for a second before looking away. The atmosphere between the two of you was confusing. Before you could think of another thing to say, he spoke up first.

“Good night,” he said.

He walked away swiftly and turned the corner to the hallway towards his dorm. You stood for a few seconds not knowing what to think. You released the breath that you didn’t realize you were holding in and proceeded to walk towards your dorm room. Leaving the kitchen a bit of a mess for the night.

The next day it was Kaminari who was blamed for leaving the paper towel on the floor and some spilled water on the counter. Poor boy.

-

Now, the relationship that you had with ‘blasty-boy’ would probably seem complicated and confusing in the eyes of others, but you two were pretty content with where you guys were at. There was an unspoken agreement that you would keep your relationship under wraps. You knew how Bakugo always tried to upkeep his ego of being the best. You’ve always assumed that he didn’t want anyone to know he had a soft spot for you. And you didn’t necessarily mind not sharing your relationship out in the open, anyway. I mean, you guys only just made your relationship official, but it was a little hard to keep your mouth shut when you desperately wanted to gush about him with the other girls of Class 1-A.

Although, you guys have managed to maintain the rivalry between you guys in front of the others. It’s not like you guys were faking it, though. Only now, you guys saw it as fun, meaningless banter and meant nothing by it. The few times that you’ve got to spend with Bakugo alone were completely different from when you would be with him as a group. 

On one of your more recent dates, he invited you to watch a movie in his dorm room and he was so adamant about keeping you close to him throughout the movie. At one point in the night, you tried to get up to use the restroom real quick and his arm around your waist pulled you back down, making you fall onto his lap and you stared up at him. He ignored you and stared at the laptop screen.

“Uh... I need to go pee. Let me go, please?” you smiled up at him.

He gave you a glance and reverted his stare to the screen again, “No.”

“What do you mean no? I drank so much water because the popcorn was too salty... come on. You want me to pee on you or something?” you joked.

He laughed, “So, what if I do?”

You sat up and his gaze finally met yours and his signature smirk was plastered on his face.

You grabbed one of his pillows and hit him with it, “Ew, you’re so fucking gross! I’m going.”

He laughed and finally allowed you to leave, but rest assured, he snuggled up with you when you came back.

-

Right now, you were hanging with the rest of your class in the common room. On Fridays, you guys all agreed to a movie night after a long week of classes. You were sitting with the rest of the girls, settled between Momo and Mina. The movie hasn’t started yet since everyone was starting to get comfortable and settled in. A few of your classmates were grabbing popcorn and other snacks in the kitchen while the rest of you guys were just chatting. Somehow, the conversation between the girls evolved into talking about relationships.

“Oh my god! There was this really cute guy that I accidentally bumped into at lunch and apparently he’s a third-year! I hope I bump into him again, he was seriously cute,” gushed Mina.

“That’s so cute, Mina! I wish I had, like, ANY romantic interactions. My life’s so boring...” groaned Ochaco.

“Same,” said Hagakure.

The rest of the girls sort of nodded in agreement, but you just sat there sipping your juice pouch loudly.

“Y/n? You’re awfully quiet,” teased Tsu as she nudged you with her elbow.

“Well, I mean-”

“What are you ladies talking about over here, huh?” said Denki as he and the other boys inched closer to the girls to join their conversation.

Momo spoke up, “Seems like Y/n over here has a crush!” 

You covered your face in embarrassment, “No I do not! It’s... uh... look we’re just... talking?”

Kirishima teased, “Awe so who’s the lucky individual?”

“Yeah, I wanna know who captured our Y/n’s heart,” laughed Sero.

“It’s no one...” you said after trying to recover after digging yourself in a deeper hole.

“Hey, Bakugo. How do you feel about Y/n’s new crush, huh? Maybe your love for her isn’t reciprocated after all...” started Kaminari before Bakugo stood from his seat on the couch and grabbed his shirt to intimidate him.

He growled, “I don’t have a crush on Y/n. How many times do I have to tell you idiots that?!”

“You’re just jealous that Y/n’s significant other is probably hotter than you!” laughed Mina.

Visibly annoyed at the situation, Bakugo walks away rolling his eyes and mumbling, “Tch. Can’t believe I go to school with a bunch of idiots...”

“Awe, can’t take it anymore? Your love for me is so strong that it pains you to listen to this conversation, huh, Bakugo?” you teased.

“Shut up. I’m going to the bathroom,” he said plainly.

The rest of your classmates on the couch got a laugh in before the topic of your potential significant other died down into smaller topics within different people. Those who were in the kitchen preparing the snacks for everyone finally came back and everyone was finding their seats around the TV and your boyfriend had yet to come back.

You pulled out your phone to text him and right as you did, Iida turned off the lights.

“Yo, Y/n. Turn off your phone it’s too bright and the movie’s about to start,” nudged Mina.

You apologized, “Sorry. I’ll turn it off in a minute I just need to text someone.”

You pulled up your boyfriend’s text log and typed in a message for him:

yo blasty boy why arent u back from the bathroom the movies starting

...also i saved u a seat next to me so we can cuddle (lowkey of course hehe)

After sending those two messages, you put away your phone in your pocket. Everyone was concentrated on the movie and you set your attention on the TV screen until...

PING PING

A phone on the coffee table lit up brightly while making two loud notification pings. Everyone lost focus on the movie and looked over at the phone on the table. No doubt that it was your grandpa of a boyfriend’s phone pinging. Before you could do something, Kirishima grabbed it.

“Who the hell didn’t turn off their ringer? And why is it so damn loud..” laughed Sero.

Kirishima’s eyes scanned his phone for a quick second before his eyes widened and he covered his mouth in surprise.

“Holy shit! Bakugo has a girlfriend!” yelled Kirishima.

You couldn’t help but cover your face in your blanket... Bakugo was about to be so mad at you. Your secret would be out and honestly, you were glad, but you know that your boyfriend didn’t want anyone to find out anytime soon. At least, not like this.

Everyone turned to Kirishima, suddenly losing interest in the movie playing in front of them.

“Oh my god, you’re joking!” squealed Yaoyorozu.

Ojiro claimed, “There’s no way that Bakugo has a girlfriend. Not that hothead.”

“Bro, I’m not joking! And guess what... it’s someone in this room!” exclaimed Kirishima.

Everyone starts looking around the class, silently accusing their classmates of being the culprit.

“Look what they said: ‘also i saved u a seat next to me so we can cuddle‘! Someone better start speaking upppppp!” said Kaminari teasingly as he got the phone from the red-haired boy.

“So, who is it?” grinned Ochako.

Sero peeked at the phone in Kirishima’s hands, “There’s no name, it just says ‘dumbass’. That’s so like Bakugo.”

You sighed in relief. You didn’t know that Bakugo didn’t have your contact as your actual name. 

“G-guys! I don’t think Kacchan would want us to go through his phone...” protested Midoriya.

“Midoriya is right! This is not respectful behavior, we should respect our classmate’s privacy,” Iida said matter-of-factly.

Kaminari replied, “Aw, come on you guys are no fun! It’s harmless, anyway! If it really is someone in our class, we were bound to find out! It’s inevitable!”

You grab the phone from him and said, “Wow, Kaminari, I didn’t know you had the vocabulary capacity for the word inevitable! Now, let me see this...”

Lo and behold, your messages were shown on the screen under the name ‘dumbass’. You tried to analyze the situation and how you could use this small sliver of anonymity to your advantage. You concluded that just trying to play off the situation would be the best thing to do-

“Woah, woah, woah. What’s that as Bakugo’s wallpaper?” said Mina as she slowly grabbed the phone from your hands.

Right then, a horror scene played out right in front of your eyes. As everyone was standing crowded around the phone (whether they agreed with peering through your boyfriend’s phone or not), they were looking at the brightly-lit device in the pink girl’s hands and she deleted the notifications to show his very-telling wallpaper… you could say there was a slight miscalculation in your plan as you failed to notice earlier that his wallpaper was the two of you... making out.

You couldn’t bear to look at what was on his phone as everyone let out their gasps. It was too embarrassing, everyone seeing such an intimate moment on your boyfriend’s phone. Bakugo had taken that picture on a whim one night when you two were having one of your movie nights. When he did that, you were shocked because there was no way that Bakugo took pictures of himself ever. Honestly, you were shocked to see that he knew how to take a selfie. Nonetheless, you peeked through your fingers at the phone in Mina’s hand just for a bit.

To your surprise, he set the wallpaper to LIVE MODE. Live mode...... Everyone was watching you guys make out in action like it was a fucking movie.

That motherfucker...

The silence of realization was then disrupted as the girls let out their squeals and the whole class was causing a commotion while the boys high-fived each other as if they won a competition or something. Everyone was up and moving, a strong contrast from them mere minutes ago when they were lounging around on the couch and floor. Sero was shaking your shoulders as you covered your face in your hands. Your face was heating up from all the embarrassment and you couldn’t bear to look at any of your classmates after what they just witnessed.

You didn’t know what to think. Half of you were completely embarrassed that your friends just saw you in an embarrassing scenario and half of you were angry at Bakugo because this was all his fault! Who the fuck puts such an intimate moment as their wallpaper?! Why not something cute? And of course, it had to be a live photo…

You finally peered through your hands again to see the scene in front of you. Mina was laughing so hard on the couch that she was on the verge of tears.

“I CAN’T BREATHE! NEVER IN A MILLION YEARS WOULD I EVER EXPECT THIS SHIT!” she cried.

Most of the boys were still jumping up and down like some monkeys due to the sheer excitement and energy in the room. Uraraka walked up to you and smiled widely while placing her hands firmly on your shoulders.

“Wow! Who would’ve thought that you and Bakugo were a thing! I honestly didn’t see that coming… sorry that we all had to find out that way. I was a little too absorbed in the excitement to consider how you felt,” said the round-faced girl.

With your face still red, you said, “Don’t worry about it… it was bound to happen soon enough, right? Although, now I’m a little embarrassed, but I guess I’m kind of relieved that I don’t have to put much effort into hiding our relationship anymore.”

Yaoyorozu chimed in, “Honestly, this is more entertaining than the movie we were just watching!”

You laughed along with the other girls who were nearby. On the other side of the room, the boys were making a train throughout the room and singing.

“Uh, y/n,” interrupted Asui, “Look.”

The man-of-the-hour walked in the room with his hands in his pockets with his usual grumpy expression. He stopped to examine the room and stared quietly at the energetic group of boys.

He scoffed, “What are you nerds doing? Why aren’t you guys watching the fucking movie, huh?”

He looked around the room until his eyes met yours and you quickly looked away, which caught his attention. Your mind was racing a mile a minute trying to think of an excuse. Your gaze averted to the ground, but you could hear his footsteps heading your way.

“Since when did your socks suddenly get so interesting that you can’t look me in the eyes?” teased Bakugo.

He brought his hand up to your chin and lifted your face to meet his gaze. His playful smirk instantly dropped once he saw your expression. Your eyes were borderline teary and seemed lost, like a sad puppy.

He whispered so that only you could hear, “Baby… what’s up?”

You wanted to give in to his touch at that very moment and run into his arms, but you resisted because you knew that it would be too selfish given how you just broke your guys’ agreement. You didn’t deserve to be in his embrace right now, he was seconds away from finding out that your guys’ secret came out accidentally all because you sent a random text. You pulled your face away from his grip and moved away from him.

“W-wait, what-” he started.

“HEYYYYYYYYYYY, BAKUBRO!” said Kaminari and he wrapped an arm around him (much to Bakugo’s dismay), “How come you didn’t tell your buddies that you had a soft side to you, huh?”

Bakugo grunted, “What the fuck are you going on about?”

Kirishima chimed, “You know, you shouldn’t leave your phone out in the open like that… it makes you vulnerable!”

Still confused he said, ”Did worms get in your brains? We’ve been only one day off from school and you start lacking common sense?”

To his surprise, you walk up with his phone in your hand while keeping eye contact, unlike earlier.

“Sherlock, I thought you would’ve connected the dots by now,” you sighed, with a tinge of sadness behind it, “Your wallpaper… really?”

You hold up the phone up to his face and his reaction was almost humorous to you. His eyes widened and his face was painted with a light tint of pink.

For the first time in your life, you witnessed your boyfriend at a loss for words. The rest of your class watched the whole interaction and some restrained laughs were let out and they were all back to square one, laughing like maniacs. You were about to join in and laugh with them when you realized again what the situation at hand was. You were scared of how Bakugo would react since this would be the first rift in your relationship and you didn’t want to have a genuine argument with him, especially with how angry he could get. Suddenly, you felt a pair of hands grasp yours and you look up to see your boyfriend smiling at you.

“I-”

Before you could say a single word, he hauls you on his shoulder, and you yelp in surprise. You don’t know how you ended up in this position, but now you’re dangling off of him and now you’re staring at the ground. (Also, his face was dangerously close to your ass, but you didn’t mention it.) He starts walking away and away from the commotion towards his dorm room. Before you can protest, he leans his head on your body causing you to freeze up. You could feel his warmth from his body heat against your shirt.

“You know… I’m not mad at you. I could never be mad at you,” he says quietly.

Your brain took time to process that sentence… was Bakugo actually not mad? Most importantly, who knew such sweet words could come out of his mouth? You couldn’t help but breathe out a sigh of relief and you relaxed a bit.

Wanting to tease him, you said, “Sorry, you were too quiet. Could you repeat that again?”

He groaned, “I said… I’m not mad at you, I could never be.”

You giggled, “I know. I heard you the first time, but I thought my ears were deceiving me… Katsuki Bakugo is saying something nice for once? Whatttt…”

He shook you a little, “Forget it. You didn’t hear anything.”

Raising yourself a little, you patted your boyfriend on the head, “Nope. Remembering that phrase forever and ever.”

“Whatever.”

You smiled, “Whatever!”

[violettelueur]

— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE TWENTY THREE || THE ORIGIN OF BLIND OBEDIENCE 2

↳ featuring : itadori yuji + fushiguro megumi + kugisaki nobara + gojo satoru from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : swearing + mention of violence + mention of hell + mention of killing + mention of fire + mention of burning + EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 16 may

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 2.5k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but….

↳ previous episode : the origin of blind obedience 

↳ next episode : accomplices

↳ barista’s notes : let me admit, this isn’t by best piece of work since it’s been a while (taking a break does affect my typing skills, i can’t lie ʕ ꆤ ᴥ ꆤʔ) but i hope you enjoy this episode and for a hint of the next and final episode, it will be about Y/N’s past...like a time line may i say...NO MORE HINTS FOR YOU ╲ʕ·ᴥ·　╲ʔ

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only.

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’. 

Destructive Curse Spell number four: Byakurai : 5:04-5:17

Binding Curse Spell number eighty-one: Danku : 3:56-4:05

Binding Curse Spell number sixty-one: Rikojokoro : 2:08-2:14

Destructive Curse Spell number fifty-four: Haien : 6:08-6:12 (but if you have read the manga...you know what Sukuna did)

2.5. for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique : hopefully this video is slightly better…

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing.

“That’s a bit rude to say, don’t you think? Have some respect child,” the woman uttered in annoyance before you violently pushed your katana forward causing your opponent to be shoved away to some distance leaving space between you both.

“Respect goes both ways, you drag,” you replied back as you processed to raise your katana with a hint of excitement lingering within the blade as your cursed energy began to automatically flow to the black blade like the river you were near right now within the domain you were in.

“Don’t you think we should take this fight outside? I don’t want your little friends to get in the way,” your opponent queried. However, that question went from one ear to the other ear for you as you began to figure out what the plan was right now since you and your classmates were now dealing with two to three opponents.

‘Time...how much time do I have....how much time do I actually need?’

“It’s not good to daze out during a battle, what happens if I suddenly attack you?” the opposition taunted, yet you still didn’t have some sort of reaction like she wanted, causing a frown of irritation to gradually appear on her face.

Suddenly, you began to transfer some of your cursed energy to your arms and legs before swiftly pushing the ball of your right foot to push yourself forward before processing to swing your katana down, surprising the women in front of you as she quickly raised her metal tonfas to narrowly block your ambush, only for your other hand to reach the side of your belt to speedily unhook the polearm that was hanging on the side before fully swinging it towards the side of your enemy’s body.

Utilising some more cursed energy, the polearm immediately extended causing the metal pole to harshly smash into the side of the woman’s hip causing her to groan loudly in pain before hurling downwards like she was going to vomit, only for your foot to suddenly make contact with her stomach as you used your cursed energy to enhance the strength of your kick causing your opponent’s body to be thrust forward at a rapid rate as it pushed itself passed the wall of the domain you were in.

“You guys make sure to deal with that curse and the domain, I’ll handle her!” you shouted at your classmates in a panic before forcing yourself past the barrier of the domain that you were in to run after your attacker leading you to come back to where you were in the beginning, under Yashachi Bridge.

Currently, in front of you, was the woman crouching down while coughing in pain as she clenched her stomach causing you to take a few steady steps towards her body while raising your polearm over your head leading the woman to her to raise her head only to see the murderous look in your eyes causing a large wave of utter terror to consume her. 

From all the years she had taken care of you, never once did she ever come to view the look that you were wearing right now. When you were just a child, you were somewhat of the quiet type and never really had the effort to make any friends yet for some reason, people were able to come up to you for help and you would gladly offer your guidance to them. From her view of you, never once you had expressed such extreme emotions as you did now.

“When did- When did you become like this?” your opponent muttered while groaning in pain causing you to look at her with a lack of emotions as you began to slowly detach yourself from every memory of the woman that was at the lowest point right now. “When did you get this strong in such a short amount of time?” she questioned angrily, before slowly coming back up on her feet before raising the metal tonfas that now had a noticeable slanted side causing you to realise that your katana had cut through the metal.

However, before you could even observe your opponent’s weapon further, she suddenly came forward towards your direction, leading you to lower your polearm to use it as a guard which caused her right metal tonfa to come into contact with the dark blue metal. Quickly, you forced your foot to dig into the soiled ground to hold onto the dominance you had in this fight before swinging your other hand to make use of the katana you had in your other hand only to suddenly make your opponent come to view with the handle but without the blade that was usually there.

“Oh...sorry...I forgot I activated the technique,” you announced in a low tone causing your attacker to look at the ‘weapon’ with complete confusion in here eyes before an unexpected gust of wind came causing a few pink petals to come into view as the flowed past both of you and the woman you were fighting.

“But you didn’t activate your domain expansion...how are petals surrounding us right now?” your opponent stuttered as more petals began to surround you both leading the woman’s eyes to widen as she was coming to the realisation that she was now going to be en-caged by the flowery technique.

“Why should I tell you? It’s more fun to keep a few secrets here and there, you know,” you answered as swiftly slide the handle back into the wooden sheath that was hanging behind you to proceed using your free hand to grab the upper area of the pole before violently pushing the pole forward causing the metal tonfa to be released forcibly from her tight grasp following by you thrusting the polearm forward which lead to the sharp blade to slit a cut on the cheek of the woman in front of you generating a wince out of her.

Continuing your sequence of attacks, you let your upper grasp from the polearm go, causing you to pull your hand back, spawning a large wave of petals to follow along, leaving no time for your opponent to react as a multitude of petals from behind to beginning cutting her left arm in the process with no mercy whatsoever.

Screaming through the pain, your opponent attempted to pull her arm away from the surprisingly brutal attack, only for the petals to keep it anchored in the pink wave leading more slashed to be produced in the process before all of the pink petals separated themselves out into single petals to act like normal petals falling from cherry blossom trees when in reality, you were the one controlling them.

Now with her one side covered in blood and cuts, the woman’s grip for her left metal tonfa was getting weaker and weaker by the second, unable to keep a hold on the only weapon she had right now. “You’ve become a monster…” the woman muttered as she observed the horrid sight of her arm before turning back to look at you, only to find your arm raised up like you were pointing at her.

“Destructive Curse Spell number four: Byakurai,” you chanted quietly, leading the familiar high-density of cursed energy being discharged from the tip of your index finger to form a concentrated bolt of lightning causing your opponent to use her right hand to grab something from her pocket before throwing it towards the direction of the sparking blue blast causing the thunderbolts to explode destructively leading the ends of the light to hit the ground causing massive cracks and indents to be created.

‘Shit...maybe I shouldn’t use as much cursed energy like that again…’ you thought as you tutted at the result of the women’s defence before facing forward again to check the smoke that was soon clearing.

‘The use of jewels condensed with cursed energy is something she can do...I completely forgot about that. If I can recall, they can be used like bullets meaning they are fast...a little too fast for the petals…’

As expected, there was a sudden hint of light coming through the smoke leading a few jewels to shoot through the smoke before it cleared, leading you to rapidly gather enough cursed energy to your hand at a speed you rarely needed to be at.

“Binding Curse Spell number eighty-one: Danku!” you shouted leading a large clear rectangular wall to swiftly manifest in front of you, blocking the jewels as they exploded the split second they made contact with your shield leading a massive gust of wind the rush past. Without any sort of hesitation, the wall suddenly disintegrated while you swung your arm up leading the pink petals around you to follow your lead as you noticed the woman’s shadow moved up as the smoke continued to clear itself as the petals moved past it leading to your attacker’s eyes to widen once she noticed you were following her movements even when she was in the air.

Once you moved your hand to the right, the wave of petals began to move the same direction, causing the lady to notice that the massive wave was now behind the body leading you to swing the same arm downwards to engulf her as your raised the metal tip of the blade of your polearm to where you last saw her body before it disappeared within the sea of petals.

“Binding Curse Spell number sixty-one: Rikojokoro!' you chanted once again, leading to your cursed energy to manifest a spark of yellow energy on the tip of the polearm’s blade, which summoned six thin, wide beams of light that harshly slammed into the midsection of your opponent, causing her to fall from the sky resulting in her body slamming to the ground to which then you could observe how much damaged the petals have generated.

From your sights, there was a multitude of cuts to the woman’s body, all over her legs to the apples of her cheek, making the one you had caused earlier seem like a minor training injury as blood began to slowly descend from each opened wound which was too many to count. However, it seemed as if the woman wasn’t going to give up easily as she shockingly began to sluggishly lift herself up with her feet.

“You...heartless child...is this what you jujutsu sorcerers’ stand for? You...have never...asked...for what we want, and here you are...stabbing us without question...Y/N, we need you for what we want to achieve, don’t you want to know...what that is?” your opponent muttered, leading blood to drip from the corner of her mouth once she managed to stand on her feet leading you to smirk before a giggle began to emit from your mouth, shocking the woman, who you once used to call your mother, as fear began to cloud her expression once again.

“You expect me to ask! That’s the funniest thing I have heard to date hahaha, don’t make me laugh, you drag,” you responded before covering your mouth with your free hand as petals began to flutter around again as if they didn’t cause the horrific injury scattered around the woman’s body right now.

“Understand this, you can’t ‘need’ me...don’t drag me into your plans,” you mentioned with the smirk widening before transferring your cursed energy away from the polearm causing it to narrow back down into the small section just like how it was handed to you by Gojo before hooking it back to your belt. “Me, a monster? I can understand why you would call me that, it is expected from you curse users and cursed spirits haha,” you muttered in a taunting tone before opening your palm leading to some of the petals flying about to come towards your hand.

“Let me admit, I realised this quite late...or maybe it’s because of the mental state that I am in right now. The crown that I have been given by the people within the jujutsu world isn’t enough for me...being a queen on the chessboard isn’t enough yet I don’t have a god complex like Gojo Satoru...there are people below me and will forever stand below me...and you are one of them,” you announced before laughing in front of the women’s face as more petals began to gather within your open palm.

“Sukuna may sit on his throne but I will forever stand on my feet like I always do for my domain expansion...I hold the four pillars of the jujutsu world meaning the clans are within the palm of my hand...yet...they can burn within the second I want them to,” you sinisterly explained leading the petals within your palm to start burning.

“Remember this even after your death, you drag...I will always win...because I am L/N Y/N… the head of the L/N clan...I...will...always...win, see you in hell when I get there,” you stated with venom lasted into your tone before standing sideways as you used your other hand to grasp onto the flame before pulling it back like a sting of a bow as the fire manifested itself to shape like a large arrow

“Destructive Curse Spell number fifty-four: Haien,” you whispered before shooting the flaming arrow towards the woman causing the burned petals to stab the woman within the chest before it consumed her body with its violent flames leaving you to view the gruesome slight with no emotions present at all on your face as petals began to manifest from the flames before joining with the other petals that were flowing around the area you were in.

Taking the handle of your katana out, you allowed the petals to gradually merge together to generate the black blade that was supposed to be there before sliding it back in its wooden sheath.

“Should I run?” you question yourself in a quiet tone, as you turned your head back to see the forest that was standing behind you, opening its arm to let you escape again and disappear from the world of jujutsu sorcery like you had since the beginning. However, in the back of your mind, you knew that Itadori, Fushiguro and Kugisaki were going to come looking for you, yet by the time they had the chance to, you would have been gone by then...gone somewhere far away.

“Should I run?” you whispered again as if you were waiting for someone to answer your question. However, as you had expected, nothing but the wind answered you leaving you in a state of confusion but weirdly peaceful as well. Now that you thought about it, this was the first time in a long time you were able to be alone with yourself and your thoughts due to you being disturbed by Gojo or anyone within the Jujutsu Tech institution as well.

Steadily, you turned your body to fully face the forest that was now tempting you to run into.

Slowly, you took one step forward.

© violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Play Pretend

Spencer Reid x (gender neutral) Reader

Word Count: ~4170

Warnings: I don’t think there are any? Some language. Egregious amounts of fluff. A blanket fort and a Star Trek onesie. Gratuitous descriptions of Spencer Reid’s bone structure, because apparently I can’t help myself. 

A/N: For the “treat yo’ self” square on my @cmbingo​ card, and also for @railmereid​‘s 2k challenge! Prompt for the latter is bolded.

It’s been a godawful case, and in the BAU, that’s saying something. At least nobody ended up in the hospital this time? But as you all troop onto the jet in a straggly line of wrinkled clothes and puffy eyes, that’s about the brightest spot you can find in this whole fucking week. 

As you get settled, though, Hotch clears his throat. “Your attention, please. We’re taking a long weekend, Strauss’s orders.”

“Oh thank god,” you mutter under your breath.  

“Once we get back and grab our things, you are not to return to the office for a full seventy-two hours.” Hotch looks sternly (well, even more sternly) at Spencer, who’s on the couch next to you, curling up for a nap. “Understood? And you are not allowed to take case files home, Reid. I mean it this time.” 

“Understood,” he says grouchily. You can’t help but laugh at the pout on his face. 

“Seriously?” you ask. 

He shrugs, lips quirking up like he does actually realize what a ridiculous human being he is. “I have many talents, but ‘taking it easy’ is not one of them.” He does the air quotes, even.

“All those PhDs and you never got a degree in relaxation?” 

“That’s not—” He realizes you’re teasing and grins. “No. No I did not. I just… never really know what to do with myself, I guess?” 

“Shocking.” 

“What are you going to do, then?” 

“I am going to have a treat yo’ self day,” you declare proudly. 

“A what?” 

“You know, like in Parks and Rec?” He gives you a blank look. “No, you totally don’t know. Of course you don’t. But there’s this one episode where two of the characters have a ‘treat yo’ self’ day, and they go shopping and get, like, really self-indulgent things that they wouldn’t ordinarily buy themselves.”

He frowns. “You’re going shopping all weekend? You’ve never struck me as a particularly materialistic person.”

“Fuck, no. It’s more about indulging in experiences. Self-care. Things that make me feel relaxed. Just… whatever makes me happy.”

“Like what?” He still has this totally puzzled look on his face, with his nose wrinkled up. It’s so much more endearing than it has any right to be. 

“I like painting. I’m not good at it, but I like it, so I’m gonna get some new paints and a big canvas and make a mess, because it makes me happy.” 

“Huh.” 

“What about you, then? What do you do to relax?”  

“That’s… a good question, honestly.” 

“Well, what’s your idea of a perfect day?” 

Maybe it shouldn’t surprise you that self-care is a foreign concept to him. You wait patiently as he overthinks it.

“Perfect seems unrealistic,” he concludes wryly. 

“So, like, remember when you were a kid and you walked into a really awesome toy store?” you prompt. “Just feeling that sort of carefree, giddy kind of happy?” 

“Not really.” He shrugs. 

“What did make you feel like that, though?” you ask. “When you were younger? There had to be something.” 

“I think I just — I didn’t do much normal kid stuff.” He lets out a huff of a laugh and runs his hands through his messy curls, suddenly self-conscious. “Didn’t get to play pretend, or… I don’t know. Didn’t have time.” 

“Right,” you say softly. “Sorry.” 

“Nothing to be sorry about.” 

You nod, throat suddenly tight. “Yeah. Get some sleep, Spencer. Sweet dreams.” 

He gives you a tired half-smile and tugs his blanket up to his chin, tucking his hands under his cheek, and the dark hollows under his eyes are hidden by his long lashes as he falls asleep almost immediately. You need to rest too, but it takes you a while; you sneak a glance at him every so often, feeling that twist under your breastbone that happens all too often when you’re around Spencer. 

By the time the jet lands, though, you have a plan. 

* * * * *

You second-guess your plan approximately a thousand times on your way over to Spencer’s the next morning. When you get to his door, you almost convince yourself to walk away before you manage to knock; is this totally presumptuous? Is Spencer going to think you’re ridiculous? Is the whole thing just plain stupid? 

Then again, you were stupid enough to fall for Spencer in the first place, so. What’s another stupid decision on top of that whole mess? 

When he opens the door, he’s wearing pajama pants, a t-shirt, and a phenomenally hideous bathrobe, and he’s all messy-haired and sleepy-eyed, and for a moment you’re panicking because oh shit I woke him up. It’s almost noon, to be fair, but he did have some serious sleep to catch up on. Then you notice the coffee mug in his hand, and after a moment of relief, that morphs into more of a oh shit he’s so fucking beautiful type of panic. 

You’re used to that, though. 

Then you realize he’s staring at you, smiling but puzzled, and you haven’t explained yourself. Oops. 

“Um. Trick or treat yourself day?” you blurt out, hoisting your shopping bags and giggling at your own lame joke. “I… brought you something. Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you — I should’ve texted, I just—”

“You’re always a good surprise,” Spencer says shyly, and then seems to shake himself. “Come in. Sorry. Coffee?” 

“Please.” 

You set down your shopping bags and follow him to the kitchen, where he fixes you a mug of your own — exactly how you like it, because of course he remembers. Then he takes a couple deep gulps of his own sugar-sludge and tops it up, and by the time you go back out to the living room, he’s starting to look vaguely awake. 

“What’s all this about?” he finally asks, head cocked to look curiously at the bags. 

“Well,” you start slowly. Now that you have to say it out loud, it sounds even more stupid. “I was thinking a treat yourself day would be a lot more fun with company, and it seems like… maybe you’re overdue for some of that? For… self-indulgence, and just, like, enjoying yourself without worrying. And you deserve it. So. You wanna?” 

His eyes are soft and bright, oddly vulnerable, and a smile spreads slowly across his face, twitchy at the edges like he’s not sure he’s allowed to smile yet. 

“Really? I don’t know what to do, though.” 

“Well, I have some ideas about that. But first, you gotta make a deal with me.” The way he’s beaming makes you feel a whole lot more confident as you tell him, very seriously, “This is the sacred covenant of treat yourself day. You have to solemnly swear to do whatever you want. Anything you can dream up. Indulge every whim. Take an oath to give in to every one of your silly, random, frivolous desires, without any form of self-denial or doubt. Can you do that, Spencer?” 

“I can try,” he says, and his voice cracks. It’s like he can’t shape the words, with the way his smile has taken over his entire face. 

“Okay, good enough. And… I have a few ideas.” 

“Like what?” 

You shrug. “Like… some things I thought maybe you didn’t get to do as a kid? Here, let me—”

You rummage until you find what you were looking for, and then you turn around, holding it out like an offering. Spencer’s mouth drops open. 

“Is that a Captain Kirk costume?” he asks squeakily. 

“It’s a Captain Kirk onesie,” you correct. “And it’s for you.” 

“Holy—” 

He shucks the bathrobe and sets down his coffee hastily, and he’s zipping the onesie up before you can say “Beam me up,” looking down at himself with this joy on his face, totally giddy in a way you’ve never seen him before, and holy hell, even if he hates the rest of your ideas, this will be one hundred fifty percent worth it for the memory of that smile on Spencer’s face. 

“I have one too,” you admit, and pull your Chewbacca onesie out of your backpack. Once you’re both appropriately attired, you tell him, “Next order of business is cartoons.” 

“I don’t actually have TV?” he says apologetically. “I mean, I have a TV, but it’s only for —” 

You grin. “I came prepared, though!” 

Spencer’s the only person you know who still has a VHS player, but you’ve been holding onto some things you rescued from your parents’ attic a while back; you find your VHS of Tom & Jerry cartoons and wave it at him triumphantly. 

“I’ve never watched that before.” He examines the cover, bemused. 

“It’s essential viewing.” 

“Okay,” he says slowly.

While he performs whatever arcane ritual makes his ancient TV work (there’s like a rain dance and an animal sacrifice involved, you’re pretty sure) you settle on the couch, nesting in all the blankets and sipping your coffee contentedly. Spencer presses play and sits down next to you, but you can feel his uncertainty; he’s holding himself stiffly, and he keeps sneaking glances at you. 

“Spit it out,” you tell him, a few minutes in. “If you hate it, you can just say so, Spence. I won’t take it personally.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not that! I just — is this really how you want to spend your Saturday?” 

“What do you mean?” You have a Chewbacca onesie, a perfect cup of coffee, and great company; you’re not entirely sure how this could get any better. 

“Doing nothing,” he mumbles. “This is… there are so many things you could be doing. Don’t you have a whole list of things you wanted to do? But instead… I don’t know. You’re here. With me.” 

Sometimes you want to scream until he realizes how awesome he is, but the screaming is probably not the best way to convey that particular message. 

Instead, you keep your voice very quiet as you tell him, “There is absolutely nowhere else I’d rather be right now.” 

It’s a little too true. Your cheeks burn as you turn back to the TV, trying not to dwell on the way you can see him watching you in your peripheral vision. 

“Okay,” he says hoarsely. He settles himself more comfortably into the blanket nest, and before long, he’s giggling along with you. 

You watch in peaceful silence for a little while, but at some point, Spencer’s stomach growls, and you pause the tape to make food — chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream, as per his verdict on “ultimate treat food.” As it turns out, he knows a lot about the science of cooking, but not a whole lot about the actual practice, so he sits cross-legged in a chair and directs you to various cabinets as you measure and mix and whisk. When you get the batter poured out on the griddle, he’s pattering on about the chemical differences between baking soda and baking powder. 

He looks utterly dismayed when the first chocolate chip hits his forehead. Turns out his lack of hand-eye coordination applies to mouth-eye coordination too, and the floor is littered with semi-sweet projectiles before he actually catches one, but he’s laughing, so you really can’t bring yourself to care. 

The pancakes are a total success. When you’re both stuffed and sugar-high, you grab the syrupy plates and bring them to the sink for a quick rinse. 

“You don’t have to,” Spencer protests. You ignore him. His next words are much softer, scratchy and hoarse: “Thank you. I don’t — just — thank you.” 

“Nothing to thank me for,” you say briskly. Then you turn around, and you freeze, because he’s a whole lot closer than you thought he was; he’s right there, close enough that you could reach out and run your fingers through his hair, or trace the sharp line of his jaw. 

He has a tiny streak of whipped cream at the corner of his mouth, right where his lips curl up as he smiles, and for a second you can barely breathe with how much you want to stand up on your tiptoes and see if he tastes as sweet as he looks. 

For a second he looks like he wants you to. He’s frozen too, for a moment, and you can hear his breath catch, but then he scoops you up in a hug, squeezing tight. And yeah, it’s just friendly, but it’s a hug from Spencer, and that happens rarely enough that it feels like a treat of its own, so you go with it, forehead pressed to his shoulder, heart racing.

When he releases you, you tell yourself you’re not disappointed. 

“Right,” you say, bossy to cover how flustered you feel. “Back to business.” 

“I think I need more practice sitting still,” Spencer confesses, following you back out to the couch. “It feels weird just… not doing anything.” 

You pause, deliberating. “Well, we could keep our hands busy?” 

With a quick rummage, you produce paint and an extra large pad of paper, holding them up for Spencer’s inspection. He frowns. 

“I don’t have any paintbrushes.” 

“They’re finger paints,” you say, grinning, and he laughs. 

“Of course they are.” 

You set everything up on the coffee table while Spencer presses play, and the two of you sit down on the floor, side by side. Spencer looks down at his onesie, then at the paint, frowning. 

“It’s all washable, Spencer.” 

“Still,” he mumbles. “I don’t want to take it off, but —” 

He unzips the onesie halfway, peeling the arms off and letting the fabric bunch up around his waist. 

“There we go, putting that genius brain to work,” you tease, but you’re touched that he cares enough about your present to worry about stains. 

It’s hard to ignore how close you’re sitting. You do your best, keeping your eyes on either the TV or your masterpiece of Abstract Expressionism, but Spencer’s knee is pressed to yours, a constant warm pressure, and your hands keep brushing as you both reach for containers of paint, and you can smell him, like vanilla and maybe old books. The whole thing has you feeling flushed. 

Other than that, though, it’s comfortable. It’s always been easy to talk to Spencer, which makes sense considering how much he knows about every subject imaginable, but it surprises you sometimes how easy it is not to talk to him, too. Silence isn’t awkward, with him. Neither of you say anything for the next hour or so. You just giggle at the TV and paint, wordless and companionable, and it’s the happiest you’ve felt in… longer than you care to admit. 

Life is rarely perfect, especially not in your line of work, but this? This is pretty close. 

As the credits start to play, you stretch, and then you look at his paper. It takes you a second to recognize yourself, but the likeness is unmistakable. Spencer’s got the exact angle of your eyebrow when you’re looking at him skeptically — apparently you do that often enough that he’s memorized the expression. He somehow managed to capture your smile, the curve of your lips, all in tiny delicate pinky-strokes of purple and turquoise… trust Dr. Spencer Reid to bring that level of precision to finger-painting, and oh god you are not going to think about his fingers any more. 

“Do you like it?” 

“Yeah,” you manage. You clear your throat. “Yeah, I really do.” 

Then he makes it worse by rubbing the side of his neck, bashful and self-conscious, smearing blue-green paint from his collarbone to the sharp line of his jaw, and he’s so busy smiling at you that he doesn’t seem to notice. He swallows, and his Adam’s apple dips, shifting a streak of color, making it flicker. It’s such a silly thing, but it draws your attention to his skin — makes you want to touch. Worst of all, it reminds you that he’s already art, that the shape of him, the delicate precise way he’s put together, is more beautiful than anything you’ve ever seen in a museum. 

It reminds you that you want some things you can never, ever have. 

“You’ve got — um,” you say, gesturing helplessly. He blinks at you, slow like he’s coming out of a trance, and tucks his hair behind his ear, smearing more paint there before he remembers. You giggle, sharp and nervous, and it breaks the tension all at once. Spencer laughs too, rolling his eyes at himself. You get up clumsily to go grab a wet paper towel from the kitchen. 

The moment is gone, but your heart is still racing. 

“What’s next?” Spencer asks softly, once you’re both cleaned up. 

He missed a tiny spot; there’s a blue smudge right at the corner of his jaw, and you want to touch it, feel it under your fingertips, see if the skin is as soft as it looks, right there where the bone stretches it thin. 

“Blanket fort,” you blurt out, before you can do anything embarrassing. 

His eyes light up. 

It really shouldn’t surprise you that Spencer and his engineering PhD make quick work of a pile of sheets and clothespins. You’re pretty sure that he could revolutionize the entire field of blanket fort construction, if left to his own devices, but you keep poking him when he gets lost in his head or starts muttering calculations to himself. The point is having fun. 

The end result is a lot more Frank Lloyd Wright than any of your childhood creations, but Spencer looks absolutely gleeful, so. It’s the spirit of the thing. 

“One more thing,” you say. “Do you have any Christmas lights?” 

Spencer frowns. “I don’t — oh! Wait!” 

He runs to the closet, and he ends up halfway inside the closet, digging around on his hands and knees. You’re about to make a crack about Narnia when he comes out, holding up a box with a triumphant smile. 

You read the label: “Halloween decorations 3 of 4.” 

Because of course Spencer Reid has Halloween lights. He pulls out several long ropes of them; a couple are shaped like tiny skulls, one is strung with Jack-o-Lanterns, and two could pass as Christmas lights if they weren’t orange and purple. You help him detangle the knot of them and drape them over and through your fort, and when you turn out the normal lights and draw his heavy curtains, the whole thing glows in patches of orange and purple and white. 

“After you,” you tell Spencer, and he crawls in without any more prompting. 

There’s more than enough room to sit up, but Spencer is lying down on his back in the nest of blankets and pillows that you’d relocated from the couch. He’s staring up at the “ceiling” in silence, eyes glittering with some unreadable expression where they catch the twinkling shards of light. You make yourself comfortable next to him, looking up and wondering what he’s seeing. 

“I always wondered what the appeal was,” he whispers. “Of blanket forts. And… childhood in general, I guess.” 

“You grew up pretty fast, huh?” you say quietly. 

“Yeah. And I never — I feel like most of the team doesn’t take me seriously sometimes. Like I’m still a kid to them. I always feel like I have to prove myself.” 

Your instinct is to deny it automatically, but you know what he means. They laugh him off for his quirks, for the way he gets excited about things and for the things he gets excited about. That’s what’s so incredible about him, though: that dichotomy of knowledge and curiosity, the breathless excitement when he makes a discovery.

“I liked pretending I had my own little world,” you tell him. “Blanket forts. Felt like I could actually shut all the bad things out.” 

“Still feels like that,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Nothing wrong with acting like a child, sometimes. We need that. Even if it’s just pretend.” 

“I think I get it now.” 

“Hmm?”

He’s silent for a long moment before he says, “In here, everything’s perfect.” 

“Or we can pretend it is.” 

You turn your head to find Spencer looking at you, and he doesn’t look away when your eyes meet. You barely want to blink for fear of breaking whatever spell you’re under. 

There’s something raw and earnest and almost scared shining all over his face, like you’re catching a glimpse of the child he used to be, before the world taught him to put on a brave face and keep his most intense feelings to himself. It makes you feel shaky in ways you were really not prepared for. 

There’s a heavy moment of silence. You’re painfully aware of how loud your breathing sounds. 

It’s a hell of a thing, to have his focus like this. You fell in love with him watching him work; you know how intensely he can devote himself to a task, to a puzzle, to a map… and every so often, when the two of you talk, he focuses all that brilliance on you, and he listens so completely that you feel his attention like a spotlight. 

That’s when he usually looks away, dropping his gaze like it’s something to be embarrassed about, because too many people have told him to stop staring. 

He’s not looking away now. He turns onto his side to completely face you, curling up in that sweetly childish way with his hands between his cheek and the pillow, and you mirror him.

“Feels like we’re alone.” 

He’s right; there are no distractions, no excuses to be made, no interruptions. It’s just the two of you, and it’s terrifying. 

“Feels safe,” you whisper, because that’s true too. Your heart is racing, and it’s like you can hear your pulse in your ears, but it’s the quietest sort of panic you’ve ever felt. “I think that was exactly what I wanted, after the last couple weeks. To get away. To feel safe.” 

There’s an orange light throwing most of his face into shadow, but you can see the corner of his mouth a little too clearly. You’re maybe a foot apart. It would be so easy — 

“We don’t get that often.” His voice is barely more than a breath. 

“Safety?” 

“That too, but —” His breath hitches, and he clears his throat. “What we want. I don’t usually get what I want, but this was — this was very close to perfect.” 

“Yeah, well, when is life ever perfect?” You manage a smile. “What would make it perfect? If you could have anything.”

“It’s not something I can have, though.” 

“So pretend. It’s just us, and there are no rules today. What would it be?”  

He bites his lip. “I don’t think —” 

“For once in your life, Spencer, stop overthinking it,” you half-laugh, and then he’s propping himself up on one elbow, shifting forward, leaning closer, close close close until he’s all you can see, and —

He kisses you. 

It’s the most gentle, feather-light brush of a kiss you’ve ever felt, barely more than a graze of his parted lips over yours. It’s there, and then it’s gone again before you can even begin to process the sensation. 

As your eyes flutter open you can already see the fear setting in, dark intense gaze fixed on you as he inhales sharply. 

You’re still trying to remember how to breathe; you’re too stunned to react beyond blinking at him. 

“I’m sorry. Can we just —” He shakes his head, hand over his mouth like he’s trying to hold onto the kiss. “Do you think we could pretend — can we pretend I didn’t do that? I’m so sorry.” 

“I don’t want to pretend,” you say shakily.  

He stares. 

This doesn’t seem real. It’s such a strange moment that you might as well be trapped in a Dali canvas. There’s fingerpaint on his face, and he’s wearing a Captain Kirk command uniform onesie, and there’s a tiny Jack-o-Lantern glowing over his head. If you’d imagined the “perfect” moment, this would not be it. 

But you reach out, running your fingertips over the dark smudge of paint on his jaw, and the skin is hot and smooth. He shivers at the touch. It’s real. 

“Spencer?” Your throat is tight, but you manage a choked, “I want you to kiss me again.” 

He does, with a careful hand cupped to your cheek and a smile curling his lips when they meet yours. You run your fingers through his hair, and you both laugh when they catch on dried paint. 

“Perfect,” he whispers. 

It really is. 

.

.

.

[sconnie-doesnt-know]

Ransom’s Hallmark Moment

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Word Count: 4300

Warnings: Language, drinking, smut including unprotected sex (imagine that birth control), Ransom's bad attitude and Ransom being soft (what?!)

A/N: written for the Hoelentine's Day Challenge hosted by @chrissquares @amythedvdhoarder and @drabblewithfrannybarnes

My giftee is Heather @hevans-angel and I hope I've been able to fulfill some of your wishes you sweet lady!

So much appreciation for @stargazingfangirl18 and @drabblewithfrannybarnes for helping me and being so supportive and creative! Now, on to the fic!

Aside from the date on the calendar, it feels like a typical Sunday. You got a lot done around the house, allowed yourself some time to relax and baked enough for a small army. Wiping the last of the crumbs away, you proudly look over the pile of treats ready to be given out the next day at work - all sweet and sprinkled and festive in pink and red. Spending the day baking, relaxed and comfortable with old episodes of ‘Bewitched’ on for company is just what you needed before starting another week. Plus, you aren't really alone. There's always Andy.

The wind suddenly blows hard, shaking the windows. You glance outside at the darkened sky, noticing the heavy sheets of snow falling to the ground.

“Shit,” you hiss, making your way to the back door and opening it, “Andy!”

You wait a moment and shout again, “Andy! Come on in!” followed by a series of whistles.

Nothing.

“Oh no, no no please no, not again,” you whine, heading back into the kitchen to find your phone already ringing. You scrunch up your face in a grimace as you answer as sweetly as possible, “Hello?”

“Missing something?”

You roll your eyes, “Yes, I was just about to call you.”

“Yeah, well, he’s here of course. If you don’t get here soon, I might call animal control.”

“You always say that, Ransom, but I know you like him. I’ve seen the water bowl and that old tennis ball by the front walkway.”

“That’s from the housekeeper.”

“Mmhmm, sure. You know I’ll be right there. I’m sorry.”

“Sure you are, see you soon angel.”

You scoff at the nickname. He’s always using a sweet one on you, while calling your dog something far less endearing like hellhound, or fleabag, or even Cujo. The first time he said that one, you looked over at your Lab/Husky mix, with his ears perked at attention and tongue lolling out from his dopey dog smile and laughed like you hadn’t in a long time.

Ransom was less amused.

For some reason, when you moved to the little cottage house set back into the woods, your dog decided to treat himself to adventures which almost always ended with him in front of the wall of windows at Ransom’s home smearing his nose, and drool and mud all over the panes of glass. 

That first pickup was not encouraging. You’d been out searching and going down the long driveways of your neighbors to search until you found him at Ransom’s, sitting and thumping his tail against the ground and staring at Ransom through the window, who for his part, stood with his arms crossed and scowling down at your dog.

That was the first time he told you to keep him contained or he’d call animal control. 

You gave him your number, begging him to call you instead if it happened again. After a few weeks the promise of calling animal control was more of a joke than a threat.

Half the time you were already on your way over, having noticed the dog had taken off, but the other half, it was a grumpy call from Ransom, complaining about being harassed by some wild beast. Apparently the ability to spin a tale was a family trait.

By the time you got there, Andy would usually be tired out from his little journey and be waiting for you to leash him, allowing you and Ransom to get caught up in conversation. And so began an awkward-sometimes tense-sometimes flirty almost-friendship with the man. You were equal parts grateful and pissed at Andy, because of course he would go out of his furry little way to make an ass of you in front of the most handsome man you’ve seen in real life. Tall, broad-shouldered, stoic and reserved, plus cocky to top it all off - the man was checking boxes left and right.

Weeks later, Ransom was still those things, but also sarcastic, witty, a bit playful and very charming when he was in the mood. You caught the appreciative looks he gave your body when you approached (not that he really tried to hide them), and you allowed yourself moments to linger on his features as well. Your little conversations on his front walkway almost always turned flirty, at least until Andy made his impatient presence known by tugging at the leash or barking to get your attention. 

You pack up some cookies, cupcakes, and truffles you made to make some sort of peace offering, grab the leash, and head out to retrieve your little trouble-maker. The thick, wet flakes are heavy, and make the journey down the wood-lined roads slower than usual.

You pull up, squinting through the falling snow, unable to see Andy in his usual spot. You see Ransom walk through the house and to the door, waving you inside, so you hurry from the car, head ducked down to try to avoid the chill and wedge your way in, shaking away the snow once you feel the warmth inside.

“He’s in my garage,” he tells you in lieu of an actual greeting, moving away as you shake off the snow.

“What? You let him inside?”

“Not inside-inside, but yeah. I know better than to leave a pet out in that. Christ. And you know, I keep telling you, princess if you want to see me, you don’t have to keep sending that mutt over as an excuse.”

“Yeah, sure. But what a waste of all that training,” you quip back. It’s almost a routine at this point.

You roll your eyes when he gives you an over exaggerated, proud smile. You immediately want to roll your eyes again because of how good that stupid smile looks on him, too. Your gaze can’t help but travel up and down the length of him, long legs, slim hips that go up to those broad shoulders, all encased in a heavy sweater...with holes torn at the lower hem and at the stomach.

Without thinking, you rush forward to grab the frayed yarn cringing at the idea of needing to replace the expensive garment, “Oh no, did he do this? I know he gets jumpy when he’s excited.”

“No, he didn’t,” he wipes at the front of this stomach. “It’s fine. It’s just like that.”

He can’t even say anything else before you start with more apologizing and rambling, “I am so, so sorry. I swear I only left him out there for a few minutes so he could play in the snow, and he’s been so good. And here,” you thrust the package at him, “I made some food and I hope you have a sweet tooth, and I know it doesn’t make up for the inconvenience and-”

“What’s this?” he asks, shaking it slightly and breaking up your word vomit.

“Uh, it-it’s just like some cookies and stuff that I made.”

“What for?”

“For Valentine’s Day. I made a bunch of stuff because at work we’re doing a thing tomorrow, so-”

“No, I mean why are you giving these to me?”

“Oh,” you hadn’t thought you would need to explain, “Um, neighborly kindness? Gratitude? Because it’s Valentine’s Day?”

“Huh. Does this make you my Valentine?” He laughs and turns on his heel, walking away toward where you can see is the kitchen area. 

“For some reason, you don’t strike me as the sweet and cuddly Valentine type,” you call after him, hearing him chuckle in response.

You wait in the foyer for what feels like too long, just listening as he moves around, opens and closes cabinets and goes on like you’re not there. You look around uncertain what you’re expected to do since you usually don’t make it past the doorway until you decide to pull off your boots and hang your jacket over a chair set near the door. You follow the path he made into the kitchen.

“Sooo. Like I was trying to say, I don’t want to bother you,” you say quietly, “I will just grab Andy and head on home.”

“You really wanna drive with that going on?” he gestures to the window. When you look, it’s practically a blizzard and your car is covered in a fresh, thick layer already.

“Shit,” you rub at the side of your face, nervous at the idea of navigating the roads, but just as anxious to not irritate the man staring you down from across the counter. “Not really. Where’s Andy? I wanna check on him.”

He points to a door down the hall. “Garage is through there.”

You make your way through the house with your jaw clenched, unsure with what you might find knowing that Ransom’s not exactly a fan of dogs. So opening the door he pointed to and finding your dog curled up on an old tarp with that familiar worn-out tennis ball, a full water bowl, all cozy and warm inside the otherwise empty garage is not what you expected at all. 

Your dog lifts his head, tail thumping against the floor as you approach, but he seems worn out from his romp through the snow, so you let him settle down after making sure he’s alright and head back to Ransom in the living room. A small smile in place of your grimace from a few moments before.

“The garage is heated,” Ransom tells you from his seat on the couch. “Figured he’d be alright in there. Can’t do much damage.”

“That’s...that’s really great.” You’re caught off-guard by the thoughtfulness of it. “Thanks for setting him up. I’ll just wait until it slows down and head back out, don’t want to mess up any plans you had.”

He laughs at that, hard and loud. “No, in fact you and the mutt gave me the perfect out from a family thing.”

“Oh really, don’t let us keep you.”

“Oh no, I’m too busy being a hero during the snowstorm,” he answers dryly, letting silence hang in the air for a few moments afterward. “Drink?” he offers.

“A hero? That’s the excuse you’re giving them?” You try to wave off the drink offer, but then he points back outside. 

“I think we’ve got some time on our hands. And yeah, makes for a great story, doesn’t it?” he chuckles to himself. 

You glance back to the wall of windows, seeing nothing but swirling white and sighing, “Sure, might as well. But just to let you know, Andy might not be thrilled that you’re using him as an excuse.”

He smiles and gets up from the sofa to pour you each a glass, then turns back and holds yours out to you, “I know a girl, I think she might be willing to put in a good word for me.”

You take a sip of your drink to hide your grin and sit on the sofa when he does.

A little while goes by and despite the somewhat awkward start to the situation, he’s not bad company. Andy is still content with his set-up, nearly ready to tuck in for the night when you check on him again later. When you return, Ransom’s opened the box of goodies, happily making a dent in the whiskey dark chocolate truffles you piled in there.

“So, you’re sure we’re not interrupting anything? No lady or ladies or even gentlemen you planned to entertain?” You ask as you settle back onto the sofa, closer to the center. Ransom had ignited the fireplace while you were up, dimming the lights and letting the orange flames illuminate the space in front of you.

“Will you drop it already? Nothing aside from the usual family obligation to show up, deal with passive aggressive bullshit, then some outright aggressive bullshit, and watching the show when it all implodes. I am happy to let a pretty girl and her big, messy dog give me an excuse to stay home.”

You laugh, trying to brush off the compliment thrown in there, “Hard to believe you want to miss out on all that. Sounds like a real special time.”

“Very special,” he drawls. He wipes some crumbs off his fingers as he shakes his head before adding, “Trust me this is much better.” He tosses his arm over the back of the couch, letting it fall on your shoulders and force you to lean a bit further into him. 

“Yeah,” you mutter as you look down to your feet and fumble a string of syllables of incomplete words as you try to remind yourself to not read too much into what he’s saying.

“Oh, come on.” He picks up the slack in the conversation when you still don’t manage to say anything else for a few moments, leaning into your space as he breaks the silence. “So, I finally have you all to myself and you’re gonna be shy for me?”

You look up at him, eyes wide and heat rising in your cheeks and chest. “What?”

The hand not wrapped over you reaches out and pushes your chin up, closing your mouth which dropped into an ‘o’ of surprise. His thumb slides up to trace at the pout of your lip.

“Please, baby girl. Neither of us is very subtle. I don’t really do romance, but we’ve got a fire going, we’re stuck in a snowstorm, and I’ve been wanting to get you all to myself since that mutt first showed up over here. If that isn’t some panty-soaking Hallmark crap right there, then I don’t know what is.”

That makes you laugh, which makes him laugh right along with you. The tension has shaken loose and your smile is uncontrollable. It’s ridiculous - the scenario, his words, that he can read you so well, that he isn’t wrong. 

“Hard to believe you don’t have women knocking down your door with all that to offer.”

“Just one woman, and her very stupid dog.”

“Hey,” you start in offense, but still move in when he does, smiling into the kiss. It’s chaste and soft for brief seconds before lips part and your tongues meet. His hands waste no time to pull you closer, tugging you along and making you shift on your knees until he pulls you over him to straddle his lap.

You’re grabbing at everything you can, bunching his thick sweater in your hands, then sliding up and down over his shoulders and biceps, appreciating how solid he feels beneath you. Until finally, you rake your fingers into his hair, ruffling it a bit and then grasping it tightly at the crown to pull his head back, drawing a short moan from his throat.

He tilts back into the pull and you lift yourself up higher on your knees to keep your lips together. When your hands finally let go, allowing him to ease the arch of his neck, you take your time sliding your body down against his torso, pushing your core over the hard bulge in his slacks.

“You gotta ride me, baby.” It sounds like an order, not an option.

Yes. You aren’t sure if you say it out loud, but you feel the air leave your lungs in a rush and your body quivers at just the thought. You don’t care if this is quick, or rushed, or frantic - it’s exactly what you want rightfuckingnow.

His palms rest at the edge of your hip bones, fingers spread and digging into your sides and just slightly pushing and pulling you to get some pressure where you feel that he’s hard.

You reach down, covering his hands with yours and pull them up your sides under your sweater, not so much encouraging as demanding that he move things along. He gets with the program quickly and pushes the sweater up, separating your lips long enough to take it off then pulling you back as quickly as he can. His hands find their own way to the clasp of your bra, making quick work of removing it as well and eagerly touching every inch of bare skin.

When you both start to pant, breaths coming out hard and shaky, he moves his lips to tickle the skin on your cheek, down to your jaw, along the curve there and onto your neck. He sucks at the sensitive skin, nibbling and dragging his teeth when he gets focused on a single sensitive spot that makes you whine out loud. 

Your head hangs down to the side, letting him work his way down the column of skin there and sinking into the loose, ragdoll feeling as your body just gives in to every sensation of pleasure. His arms squeeze you against him while he keeps pushing his hips up and into you, teasing you with hints of pressure where you are starting to feel empty and needy.

“Yes,” you gasp, definitely out loud this time. “Yes,” over and over, every time he does something whether it is with his tongue, or his fingers - his blunt nails digging into the sides of your ribs to hold you tightly in place, or the twist of your hips as he lifts his own up against you.

It’s so much, and you’ve only just lost your shirt. It’s not worth waiting anymore. Your mind is set now to just get what you want.

You push away from him. He slowly comes to, eyes glazed and unfocused, a low mutter of “the fuck” slurred from his lips. Before he can reach for you, you lift off him. Your legs are shaky, but you stand as steadily as you can, undoing the button and zipper and pulling down your jeans and panties in a single push.

He watches for a second, then reaches behind him, gripping the neck of his sweater and hauling it up and over his head. He reveals almost exactly what you were hoping for - solid, defined muscles and smooth skin - but there’s more. Hair across his pecs and in a line down the center of his abs, and freckles dotting everywhere on his fair skin. You want to caress and trace every one, run your fingers along imaginary paths and press against him - but it can wait. It’s got to wait.

Impatiently, you kneel, kicking the legs of your pants away and shuffling forward to reach for his belt. His hands settle at his side, flexing, but letting you do what you seem to be compelled to do. You fling the ends of the belt apart and pull at the button and then the zipper, already salivating at the mingling scent of his cologne and sex.

He straightens his hips, lifting from the couch to allow you to shove his boxers and pants down his legs, his cock pulling with them, then bouncing back up once freed. It throbs, slightly bobbing with a rush of arousal and you can’t help but admire the thickness of it, the swollen head that glistens with smeared pre-come.

Heat burns over your skin, and when you look up at Ransom, he’s clearly feeling the same. His cheeks are flushed in patches of pink, his lips red, swollen, and parted as he lets out short, shaky breaths, hair hanging loose and disheveled. It’s more than you hoped for, and it’s disgusting how perfect he looks. 

As much as you want to tease, to keep this view while you swallow him down and taste him, your pussy throbs. You promise yourself again to take more time with him later, to lick and suck and taste him the way you want, but you can’t resist at least a taste. You grab his shaft, leaning in to swallow him deeply - just once - and draw a shocked moan from him before pulling off and pushing up from your knees, humming at the taste of him.

“Damn, princess. I thought I was going to ruin you, but fuck, you’re good.” He reaches forward as you’re moving up, his hand grabbing at the back of your head to guide you. He pulls a bit at your hair when you’re back up to the couch and spreading your thighs wide over his. His free hand reaches between your legs swirling through your wet, sensitive slit and pressing the heel of his palm hard against your clit.

“Later,” he promises, “I’m gonna taste your pussy. Gonna lick it all up.” He pulls his hand away and sucks away your juices as they drip down his fingers. The promise is so dirty it makes your breath shake in anticipation. You stare into each others’ eyes, admiring the wreckage between you and moving without guidance to seat yourself on top. 

You gasp when you finally feel the hot, hard line of him pressed against your pussy. It feels so thick, and you’re eager to feel the stretch of him pushing inside. You lock your arms around his neck, pushing your breasts together, nipples peaking as they drag along the coarse hair on his chest. 

The lips of your pussy spread over his cock, coating him with your slick. His cockhead rubs over your clit, making you shudder and suck in stuttering breath, and that’s it. You can’t take it anymore.

“Can I have your cock?” Deep down, you know you don’t really need to ask. 

“Yeah,” he adjusts his hips, scooting himself out a little further to give you more room to settle against him. “You’re gonna fucking ride me, princess. Come all over me.”

“Uh huh,” you breathe out, high and airy.

He takes one hand off you, using two fingers to angle his cock toward you. You lift up on your knees, tipping your hips until you feel him against your entrance. You pause for a brief second to ready yourself, then sink down, taking him all in at once.

The stretch makes you groan, the static-like buzzing mix of ache and pleasure spreading all over and making you throw your head back and deepen the moan.

He huffs out a few quick breaths. “That’s it, oh that pussy is so good. So fucking good, princess,” he mumbles.

Then his hands are back on your hips, warm against the bare skin and strong when he digs the tips of his fingers in to pull you further down, “This cock filling you up? Huh?”

All you can manage is another high-pitched, “Uh-huh,” while you start to roll your hips, barely lifting as you shift back and forth to grind against him, your walls still squeezing him tight.

“Come on, let go, baby,” he whispers, his mouth tight against your ear. Your arms loosen their grip around his neck and you place your hands instead on the muscles flexing at the tops of his shoulders. 

You move your knees to get them comfortable and then finally push yourself off him, sliding and gasping as you feel the head of his cock catching just at your entrance again, and after another silent beat, you slide back down, taking his hard length again.

With the space given, he dips his mouth to your breasts, swirling and suckling at your nipples, Harsh, fast sucks followed by quick nips when he catches the hard peaks in between his teeth until you gasp and moan. Only then does he switch it up, his tongue gently rolling over the bud, soothing the stinging ache.

All the while you roll your hips and the burn, the push, the fullness of him inside you is drugging. Your eyes fall closed as you focus on the steadily growing tingle low in your belly.

You start to chase it with slow, dragging strokes, easing up only to drop down and have him bottom out deep inside. It builds fast, making your thighs burn and knees ache as you try to keep your position; one knee has managed to wedge into the corner of the couch and the rhythm needed to build your orgasm conflicts with the concentration needed to keep yourself steady.

“Just take it, babygirl. I got you,” he whispers, feeling your body getting tired on top of him.

He shifts his legs, placing his feet on the ground and pushing up into you, letting you settle on his lap and rock yourself forward and back while his cock stays buried in you. He adjusts his hands to rest just at your tailbone, pressing you steadily against him and giving the pressure needed to your clit when you press against his pubic bone.

Cries start to escape from you, first quiet and breathy, but then building as the air gets pushed out in hard breaths. Your body inches closer and closer to that release, your body hot and burning and there’s a slight moment of too much just before it hits...and then it’s rushing over you - all liquid fire and bliss. You clamp down over him, legs straining over the tight muscles of his thighs.

He pushes up into you, his hands pressing harder at the middle of your back to keep you moving through your release as he works to find his. He hisses through clenched teeth, broken praises coming out on hard breaths.

“Yeah...There...Righthere...God...Fuck.”

When he curls into you, nails digging into your soft skin and breathing heavy against your chest, you know he’s right there.

“Come for me,” you whisper.

“God - yeah!” With one final, hard thrust, he does. You can feel him throbbing and pulsing inside you when he releases, his hips jerking up slightly to keep pushing into you while the tense features of his face soften with relief.

For a moment it’s nothing but panting breaths and the racing beat of your pulse in your ears. Then it’s slow, dragging hands across naked skin and muscle, soothing the tense muscles and tickling sensitive spots and whispering praise to the man beneath you while he hugs you tight to him.

His voice is low and quiet as he asks, “Is the mutt gonna be mad that I stole his Valentine?” 

“You like me,” you smile against his neck and tease him with a sing-song voice, “And you like my dog.”

“I like you,” he agrees. “The dog’s okay, too.”

“Does that mean Andy should come harass you again on Friday night?”

“I’ll even get a dog-sitter.” He says with a smirk. “Let him know that 7 would be good.”

Tags: @jtargaryen18 @ozarkthedog @wi-deangirl77 @angrythingstarlight @donutloverxo @navybrat817 @saiyanprincessswanie  @sweeterthanthis @sagechanoafterdark @tuiccim 

[ssreeder]

heads up this one is a Chonky bOi:

ohmygod you UPDATED, you’re so lovely and so is your writing even though it makes me want to Scream (out of happiness and/or rage, it’s a mixed bag)

you do indeed make the The Most delicious cocktail, how could you ever doubt that??? also I got my own leekie tag :’) someone pls explain to me why that makes me emotional lmfao

noooo why do you always DO this sreedieeee “sokka was worried about jet finding out about who zuko really was” YOU BETTER FUCKING BE AFRAID ITS TOO DAMN LATE

“back to his rightful position as sifu hotpants” see this is the lightheartedness we need to see more of bc YOU KEEP TORTURING THE BOYS WITH NO RESPITE

also I may have forgotten that this plot point existed at all so it was a pleasant surprise

fuck you we’re back with another episode of Angst With Zuko, the most canon compliant aspect in this entire fic

lmao leave it to sokka to feel guilty about almost dying (like I Get it but also it’s the kind of situation where you have to laugh at the ridiculousness or else you’ll cry, and there’s already too much to cry about in this fic bestie)

YAY TINGLY LOVE FEELINGS our boys deserve good things <3

sreedie. I swear to fuckery if zuko is going to run away… I don’t have an adequate threat at the moment but I’m gonna be So Pissed my dude

lmfao not sokka’s ongoing shitty spirit luck-

but also >:(( about the letters LIKE THAT WAS SUCH A SMART PLOT POINT BY YOU AND I LOVE THAT YOURE A GENIUS but seriously Fuck this plot point

okay ik that “the big fire bender” is just a way to describe shen’s stature, but it makes me think of zuko being “the little fite bender” and idk the mental image of the big and little fire benders reminds me of a picture book my mum used to read to me where there was Big Mouse and Little Mouse and Little Mouse wouldn’t stfu and go to sleep bc Big Mouse was snoring too loud but the when Big Mouse put a peg on his nose to stop snoring then Little Mouse STILL couldn’t sleep bc he missed the reminder that Big Mouse was there to protect him from the scary things hiding in the dark and idk it’s cute (I’m pretty sure the book is called night noises??)

FUCK YEAH HAIR CUTTING LORE IM ABSOLUTELY THRIVING RN YOU DONT EVEN UNDERSTAND IM SUCH A SLUT FOR CULTURAL DIFFERENCES BEING EXPLAINED (also the way that zuko simply did not inform sokka of any of these implications I cannot with this boy)

smh hakoda pls accept that your son is gay, shen literally just told you they’re metaphorically fucking in public

nooOooOoOo sad bato hours :(((

also not to go off on a tangent, but I’m going to do exactly that actually. anyways. just the whole “kya would know what to do” shtick got me thinking, it’s interesting for characters to make assumptions about how things would be easier/different if another character is around but that wouldn’t necessarily actually be the case and it’s just them projecting onto their loved one the feeling of safety and dependency onto them so it can act as a source of comfort of sorts?? idk if that’s a coherent thought but it’s out in the world now

hakodaaaaaaaa jet hAS ALREADY FUCKING DONE SOMETHING STUPID I hate this I hate it I hate it I hate it why do I love your story so much I hate this

hakoda… there is No fucking way you’re gonna leave zuko behind… right. RIGHT?????? sreeder I swear on my fucking life if your separate our boys-

YO SURELY BATO WILL TALK HAKODA OUT OF BEING A BLOODY MORON SURELY SREEDER TELL ME IM RIGHT

god I love bato. also shen and zuko banter >>>

oh morrak, obviously they’re going to do something reckless this is jet we’re talking about

aaaaand that’s a WRAP

I am so torn between hating you for this ending and pumped for the next chapter bc shit is once again going to go down, and really, what else are we all here for??

anyways, in response to your proposal, I just wanna say that it feels like we’re divorced, but it was an amicable divorce and so we still celebrate holidays together so our children don’t have to choose which parent to spend time with BUT I use the divorce against you for comedic effect, such as you PULLING THE ANGST SHIT WITH ZUKKA and then I get to shake my head and say “this is why I divorced you”

love you to bits and pieces!!

leekie :)

Ohhhhhhhhh leekie I like my asks like I like my milkshakes ,,, THICK <3

Sifu hot pants takes his position extremely serious I don’t know what you mean by lighthearted?? ;)

If Zuko does run away it will be with elegance and grace and likely in the middle of the night so no one will know :D

Do you think if Zuko found out he was the ‘little fire bender’ he would kick Shen’s ass just to prove a point?

Your tangents are my world, but yeah remembering a person for their best qualities is important but it’s also important for him to at least….. TRY to do what kya would do!

If kya were here she would smack Hakoda upside the head because YOU ARENT EVEN TRYING DUDEEEE. Hakoda is lucky kya isn’t there to witness the mess he is making.

oommmgggg I love being divorced to you it’s the best decision we ever made. Mwa mwa mwa mwahhhhh. You’re the best leekie and you’ll probably hate me more after next chapter but that’s okkkkk!