#Are these two idiots going to be the last ones?? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

siriuslylantsov · 2 days ago

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mistletoe

pairing: spencer reid x reader

description: in which you and spencer decorate your apartment for christmas.

tags: fluff, roommate!spencer, gn!reader, idiots in love, pinning, decorating!, spencer lifts reader up super quick, reader teases spencer bcs its fun, a little singing.

a/n: woahhh first christmas fic. MY BAD i listened to our love by curtis harding when i wrote majority of this so it just became what it did (not rlly sure what that is). you'd think a reader fond of christmas would only be playing christmas songs (esp when decorating), but she doesn't even?? idk guys. also i gave a hack making a header for this one, might continue making them. anyway lmk what you think, happy reading :))

wc: 1.7k

“tacky, tacky, tacky...” you drone, fingers skimming over the themed trinkets and signs on the shelves. you’re christmas decor shopping with spencer. it's almost the end of november, which you personally think is too late (being a strict ‘christmas starts on november 1st’ believer), but you had no choice in the matter, wanting to wait for spencer's schedule to free up so you could go together.

“oh cute!” you chirp, picking up a porcelain snoopy with a santa hat on. you show it to spencer, who trails behind you with a sparsely filled cart. “beside the-”

“tv,” he finishes for you, nodding in agreement. you place it in the cart and continue walking down the aisle.

“i hope you’re checking the price tags,” he muses from behind you, scanning over all the items. you shoot him a look paired with an unconvincing “yeah.”

“be serious,” he says, though a little amused.

“i am,” you step closer to him, meeting his somewhat challenging gaze. you try to hold your ground but something about the way his eyes crinkle at the corners as he squints at you makes you want to look away. “fine, i'll look over everything before check out. deal?”

he smiles, victorious. “deal.” he holds out his hand and you give it a firm shake before continuing your perusing.

you spend the next 2 hours like that, complaining about the abundance of generic things and squealing when you do find something nice. in the end, settling on an assortment of baubles, to add on to the ones you already had from last year, a new green blanket, a mulled-wine scented candle (that took you way too long to pick), the snoopy ornament, and 2 matching mugs which you had to sweet talk spencer into buying. you can never have too many mugs.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

you light the new candle and set it on the dining table, briefly glancing at the flame. the warmth on your face feels nice but you pull away quickly, knowing that if spencer catches you that close to the candle, he’ll chastise you about the fumes.

he's digging through the closet for last year's decorations. the tree is already up–7ft something–tucked in the corner of the living room, bare and in dire need of some personality. he finds the box, and you pull out the fairy lights, starting to swirl the wire from the top down, spencer opposite you to help.

music faintly plays from your speaker, so you turn it up, landslide by fleetwood mac.

you circle around the tree with a handful of baubles, a collection of reds and whites, hanging them up where they felt right. spencer nudges you for approval on a few placements and you give him a reassuring smile. the two of you move in sync, on either end. he places a custom ornament of his team somewhere to the front of the tree. when you put up the last of the new ones, you take a step back and give it a good look. happy, spencer hands you the star. he hovers two tentative hands under your arms, over your rib cage, to lift you. there’s a stool near you that would’ve been perfectly fine, but you wiggle in his grasp anyway, telling him he can. despite his lanky frame, he picks you up with ease. you place the gold topper on firmly. when he puts you down you lean back into him, swaying. you hum quietly to the music. he presses his lips into your hair, lingering, before pulling away. you instantly miss his warmth, but you don't dwell on it, why should you?

the click of the kettle sounds from the kitchen, he's probably making tea. you think to tell him to use the new mugs, but he already knows. you're still swaying, head dipping up and down as you move across the room. you look through the box for more things to decorate with when your eyes land on a sprig of artificial leaves held together with a red bow.

“hey, when did we get mistletoe?” you call out, hoping your voice carries to the adjoining room.

“hmm?” he pokes his head through the door, looking at the item in your hand. “oh... penny got it for us last year, didn't put it up though.” he explains before returning to the tea, you put it in your pocket for later. you were well aware of what his teammates thought of you, or rather you and him. over the course of the 2 years you lived with spencer, you’d been taken to their family dinners and get-togethers as his plus one, never a girlfriend or a date, you. they ceased their relentless teasing for your benefit, but you knew spencer got the brunt of it when you weren't around. they mean well, they’re just annoying, he told you after you met them for the first time.

you saunter over, ready to tease him. you can't help but want to, he's just so easy. plus, you think it's endearing when he's flustered. “you wanna put it up?” you ask with a smirk, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“what! oh- i don't know, no- uhm- well i don't mean no like it would be bad a bad thing- i just mean–” he stammers nervously, eyes wide and slightly panicked, before you cut him off with a laugh.

“calm down, pretty. i'm just joshin’ ya.”

he lets out a sigh of relief, though it's laced in hidden disappointment. he wouldn't mind if you put it up, wouldn't mind at all. he hands you your mug, navy with little yellow speckles that resembled stars. with his own in hand, he leads you out of the kitchen.

you settle on the couch beside each other. your shoulder lightly bumps against his in steady beats because you're still swaying, as you blow at your drink. worried about you spilling he peels it from you and sets it down on the arm rest to cool on its own. your knee is bouncing now as the next song starts playing, our love.

“there's a girl in town and words gone around she's just fine,” you sing quietly, head dropping onto his shoulder. “so i don't worry my head cause i know her heart is tied to mine.” you tip back onto the cushions, and you raise a dramatic hand to your chest, over your heart. “the life that we live and the love that i give to her. each day it grows more and more i'm sure, it shows. well,” you shift to face him, leaning closer.

“our love, is a bubblin' fountain. our love, that flows into a sea. our love, deeper than any ocean. our love, for eternity.”

you quiet as the second verse starts playing, switching to mouthing the lyrics instead. you look at him with a reverie, head tilted in observation, that makes him nervous. “…he holds me down for sure.” in diligent self-sabotage, he combats this by starting to sing along with you, putting his mug down beside yours, effectively ending the moment as you spring in recognition.

your eyebrows furrow in amusement as you follow suit, planting your hands on his shoulders to move his in tow with yours. the angle is awkward, and he looks a little silly as he does it but it's fine. the chorus plays through and you tire, dipping your head back into his shoulder as he returns your mug to you, albeit still quietly mumbling the lyrics.

you practically chug the tea, having reached an ideal temperature. spencer sits sipping slowly, a serial sipper. you curl into his side in the meantime, arm looped through his. after several minutes, he finishes and you take both mugs to the sink, rinsing them swiftly.

you slowly but surely continue decorating. two stockings adorned with your initials hang from the key rack in the hallway. handmade paper snowflakes are stuck to the window, snowflakes that had you and spencer hunched over in concentration on the floor a few nights ago, tediously cutting away. you go back and forth on whether the tinsel would go well with the tree, realising all it missed was something sparkly, you wrap it around. spencer nails a simple wreath on the front door, there's a little purple bow on it. snoopy is placed in the midst of the trinkets that sat at your tv table–good choice, you think. you change out the pillowcases on the couch for ones with a red flannel pattern and throw the new blanket across the back.

the space is perfect, standing in the middle of the room you take a deep breath. waxy candle scented greatness fills your senses, and somehow pine? from the wreath you assume. it's dimly lit, and the low light reflects off the sparkles on the tree gracefully. you wish you had a fireplace during times like this, you take a picture to preserve it anyway.

you leave to change into your pyjamas, quickly so the cold doesn't linger on your skin. when you return to the living room you find spencer on the couch, a book perched in his lap. you come up to the back, mistletoe that you fished out of your pocket in hand. you crouch behind him, a little to his right, with the leaves dangling over his head. you graze it lightly on his hair and he looks up. his eyes widen slightly in realisation, but he doesn't try to move, he's intently still. with an amused huff, you lean in and kiss his cheek softly. he's still frozen in place, so as to prolong whatever's happening, a flush spreading across his face. you lean back and drop the sprig into the seat beside him.

“goodnight spencer,” you whisper, suddenly timid. he touches his fingers to the area as you walk away.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

a few hours later, he walks into your room, quietly padding across the floor, to your side of the bed. he made the mistake of drinking a cup of coffee a few minutes after you left and now, he can't sleep, naturally. he bends and presses a kiss to your forehead, in some kind of implied reciprocation. you don't feel it, you don't even stir, but for now, that's alright with him.

he’ll put the mistletoe up, maybe in the doorway to the kitchen. and hope to god you both find yourselves under it at the same time.

m.list | comments and reblogs are appreciated :)

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #christmas

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msbigredmachine · 19 hours ago

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Behind The Mask (Roman Reigns)

Sometimes love demands that you fight not for yourself—but for someone who can’t fight back.

Pairing: Roman Reigns/Black fem OC

Warnings: HEAVY themes of abuse, angst, fluff

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: This story touches on an extremely sensitive subject matter, therefore a trigger warning is in place.

Song inspos:

Beneath Your Beautiful - Labrinth & Emeli Sandé Anytime You Need a Friend - Mariah Carey

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

The dim fluorescent light in Roman’s locker room hummed faintly as you pushed the door open. You’d been searching for him all day. Meetings, creative briefings, segment reviews—none of it could move forward without him. But he’d been ghosting everyone, including you of all people, one of his closest friends behind the scenes. It wasn’t like him to disappear, especially not when you were scheduled to run through one of the most important segments for tonight's episode of SmackDown involving him and the rest of the Bloodline. But there he was, sitting in the corner, head bowed, his long hair cascading forward like a curtain shielding him from the world. You noticed the subtle rise and fall of his chest and the tremor in his hands. His massive frame seemed diminished—small in a way that set off alarm bells.

“Roman,” you called softly, stepping inside, coming closer.

He didn’t respond.

You crouched before him, the smell of musk and faint cologne mingling with the tension in the room. “Roman, I’ve been looking for you all day. We need to go over—”

Reaching out, you pushed back his hair gently. Your heart dropped when his eyes met yours—there was a faint, yet jarring discoloration on his cheekbone, purpling against his tanned skin.

“Is that a bruise?” you asked, your voice low and tight. Without thinking, your hand reached out to tilt his face toward the light above. His jaw tensed under your fingers. “What the fuck happened?”

Roman flinched, tilting his head away. “It’s nothing. An accident.”

“An accident?” You exhaled sharply, anger bubbling in your chest. “That’s what you told me the last time!”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, his voice low and guarded.

“Yes it does!” you continued. “You only wrestle on PLEs, Roman, so where the hell are these injuries coming from? I’m not an idiot!”

“Just drop it,” he muttered, his voice thick with shame.

Your mind raced. The memory of his “accidents” flooded your mind. Last week, a split lip. Two weeks before, ugly scratch marks on his neck that forced him to let his hair down. But this time, the dots connected. Your stomach churned as the realization hit you like a freight train.

Sabine.

That beautiful, manipulative, venomous witch you never liked. The same one who dripped perfection in public and poison in private. She clung to Roman like a parasite, feeding off his fame, draining his strength and his pockets. You had seen right through her from the start but Roman had fallen for her. Hard. And now, it was breaking him.

“No.” You rose to your feet, the weight of your fury grounding you. “No, Roman. I know who’s doing this to you.”

His shoulders stiffened.

“It’s that fucking psycho, isn’t it,” you spat, “What did she do this time? What did she—”

“Don’t call her that!” he snapped, standing abruptly. He loomed over you, his chest heaving, but his eyes betrayed him—pleading and broken. “It's not what you think. She loves me. She just…has her ways.” The words came out hollow, almost like he was trying to convince himself.

“Well she sure has a fucked up way of showing it!” you shot back, tears pricking your eyes. “You deserve better, Ro. You know you do!”

Roman stood abruptly, towering over you, his presence as commanding as ever, but the cracks in his armor were all too visible. He raked his hand through his hair, his face clouded with emotion. “We’re working it out on our own. We are. Just…please don’t tell anyone. I’m begging you.”

“So I should be quiet until she seriously hurts you? Injures you so bad it ends your career?” Your voice cracked. “Roman, a person who truly loves you would never put their hands on you!”

“Stop,” he said firmly, his voice a strained plea. “Look, I don’t wanna talk about it no more. Just...stay out of it. Please.” He turned and stormed out of the locker room, the echo of his departure leaving you alone with your racing thoughts, a storm of anger and heartbreak swirling inside you.

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

Two weeks passed. Two agonizing weeks of you avoiding Roman and Roman avoiding you, knowing he wasn’t ready to hear the truth. That woman was physically abusing him and for some reason he couldn’t leave her. You were desperate to help him but you didn’t know how.

He never opened up about the full extent of Sabine’s abuse, but pieces of the truth started to fall into place when you confided in Naomi. The two of you were backstage during a SmackDown taping when the subject of Sabine came up. Naomi’s expression darkened, her usual bubbly demeanor replaced by a rare seriousness.

“I know Roman says to mind our business, but I have to tell you something,” Naomi said hesitantly. She glanced around, making sure no one was eavesdropping. “Jimmy and I went on a double date with them a couple of months back. And, girl, I couldn’t believe the way Sabine talked to him.”

Your stomach sank. “What do you mean?”

“She ripped into him right there at the table, over something stupid,” Naomi explained, her voice low but tight with anger. “He forgot to order her drink or something, and she just…snapped. Called him useless. Told him he was ‘lucky’ she even gave him the time of day. In front of us, no less.” Naomi’s fists clenched at the memory. “Jimmy almost got up to defend him, but Roman brushed it off like it was nothing. Just laughed like it didn’t bother him.”

You shook your head, your jaw tightening. “And Jimmy didn’t say anything?”

“Of course he wanted to, but Roman told him not to. Said she was just having a bad day.” Naomi paused, her voice softening. “I didn’t want to push, but you could see it in his eyes. He was embarrassed. Humiliated.”

Your blood boiled as Naomi continued.

“She didn’t stop there, either. Every time he tried to speak, she interrupted him. Or rolled her eyes. At one point, she even said, ‘What kind of Tribal Chief can’t handle a simple dinner reservation?’ Like, who says that to someone they love?”

You exhaled sharply, your heart breaking for Roman while fury built in your chest.

“That’s when I started to notice the little things,” Naomi added. “How he doesn’t talk about her much, how he flinches sometimes when she raises her voice. I hate seeing him like that, but he’s so damn proud. He won’t let anyone help him.”

He used to be so full of life. The Roman Reigns that everyone knew—The Head of the Table, the sweet, shy guy who still commanded the attention of any room he walked into, the guy who’d throw you into a headlock just to make you crack a grin. Now, it was like he was just going through the motions. There was a hollowness to him, a dullness that wasn’t there before. Sabine has stripped him of his fire, and you were not sure if it was ever coming back.

Naomi reached out to squeeze your hand. “You’re close to him. Maybe closer than anyone else. I think…I think you might be the only one he’ll listen to.”

You swallowed hard. Roman’s pain was worse than you’d imagined, and your resolve to help him only deepened.

But one social media post torched your plans and shattered your heart into a million pieces.

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

Scrolling through your phone during a rare moment of downtime, an Instagram notification caught your eye. Seeing it was Sabine’s page, you were hesitant, but curiosity got the best of you. The pinned post showed her perfectly manicured hand adorned with an obnoxiously large diamond ring, resting in Roman’s palm.

You stared at the screen, your chest tightening with a mix of rage and anguish. You couldn’t breathe. The room around you seemed to tilt, and tears blurred your vision.

How could he do this? How could he propose to her?

You couldn’t stop yourself. With shaking fingers you dialed Roman’s number.

“Hey,” he answered.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Roman?” you snapped, skipping pleasantries. “You proposed to her? After everything?”

He sighed, the weight of a thousand unspoken truths in his voice. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “I wouldn’t understand? Try me,” you fired back. “Explain to me how proposing marriage to the woman who’s beating you makes any sense at all.”

“It’s not that simple,” he said, his voice quieter, sadder.

The laugh that escaped you was stripped of any and all humor. Angrily, you hung up, tossing your phone onto the bed. The tears you didn’t realize you were holding spilled over, breaking down, not for the first time, over him.

Why couldn’t he see you? Why couldn’t he see how much you cared for him—how much you loved him?

Why?

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

The jet ride to Europe was eerily quiet as you settled into your seat across from Roman. You’d barely spoken since the news of his engagement broke, but you couldn’t ignore how miserable he had been since. It was also impossible to not notice his painfully conscious attempts to keep his sunglasses firmly in place despite the dim cabin lighting.

“Take them off,” you told him quietly.

“What?”

“The sunglasses. Take them off.”

He hesitated, his face a mask of barely concealed terror. Reluctantly, he slid them down, revealing the fresh cut on his upper cheekbone.

You exhaled sharply, your chest tightening with anger. “What did she do this time?” you asked, your voice soft but firm.

He didn’t answer, but the way his shoulders slumped told you everything. Tears welled in his eyes, and your heart broke all over again. “Roman, tell me,” you pressed.

Roman looked away, his jaw clenched. “She threw her phone at me,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, cracking under the weight of his confession.

Your hands curled into fists. “I swear to God…”

“It’s fine,” he said quickly, “It was my fault…I shouldn’t have made her mad. I-”

“No! Don’t you dare!” Your voice cracked. “Don't you dare blame yourself. This was not your fault!” It baffled you. You were a hothead by nature, but you’d never, ever lay hands on anyone unprovoked, especially not someone you loved. You didn’t understand why he was letting this happen to him.

The tears began to climb, but with great effort, you pushed them back down. “Roman, you need to talk to someone. Please,” you said gently, no longer above begging. You couldn’t stand seeing him like this anymore, the man you’ve known for so long reduced to this version of himself that barely even felt human.

He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. “I’ve got it under control.”

But it wasn't true. It simply was not true and you both knew it. “Under control?” you repeated, incredulity lacing your words. “Roman, have you seen your face?”

His eyes flickered with something—regret, maybe. “I’m fine.” Again, the words came out like an automatic response, a lie he was telling himself, desperate for it to come true.

“No, you’re not,” you responded. “You used to have this fire, this… drive.” You paused, struggling to find the right words, your frustration bubbling up. But it’s not directed at him. “And now, you’re a shell of yourself and I blame her. She’s breaking you. Please…swallow your pride and leave her!”

His gaze hardened, but it was more out of guilt than anger. “I...I can't...I love her. And she loves me,” he muttered, another weak excuse, fooling nobody.

You couldn’t take it anymore. The sad truth of it was suffocating. “Sabine doesn’t love you, Roman. If she did, she wouldn’t be doing this to you. She wouldn’t treat you like you’re nothing. She wouldn’t tear you apart piece by piece and make you feel like you’re unworthy of love.”

Roman finally met your eyes, and for a moment, you saw a glimpse of the man he used to be. But just as quickly, it vanished.

You wanted that man back. Badly.

“Come here,” you whispered.

Roman hesitated, but you patted the seat beside you. When he finally shifted closer, his walls crumbled. He collapsed into you, his broad shoulders trembling as you wrapped your arms around him. His big frame somehow felt small and fragile as he curled up against you, like a wounded puppy seeking solace.

“I’m not weak,” he said through gritted teeth, his voice breaking.

“You’re not weak,” you repeated softly, stroking the top of his head. “But baby, you are hurting. You're unhappy. I hate seeing you like this.”

Roman exhaled shakily, like the weight of the world was pressing on his back. “I don’t know how to get out of it. I feel trapped with her, yet at the same time I feel like I can't breathe without her,” he admitted quietly. “I don’t know what to do and I'm so fucking tired.”

“Oh, baby,” you murmured, kissing his temple, squeezing your eyes shut as your tears and his flowed together. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

As you comforted him and cried with him, your mind raced, quietly strategizing, plotting. It was crystal clear that Sabine wasn’t going to stop until Roman was utterly destroyed. You would die before you let that happen.

It was time you took matters into your own hands.

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

When you returned to the States, you made your move. Roman might have begged you to stay out of it, but you couldn’t stand by and watch him suffer. Sabine needed to be dealt with.

Damn the consequences. He would thank you for it later.

You stood outside Sabine’s apartment, the same one Roman was paying for, the edifice as gaudy and ostentatious as she was. Your blood boiled as you raised your hand to knock. But the door was slightly ajar, and inside, you heard sounds that made your stomach churn.

That trifling bitch.

The place reeked of perfume and deceit, at least those were your thoughts as you burst through the door unannounced. The scene before you confirmed everything. Sabine, tangled in white rumpled sheets, on top of another man—a married man, judging from the mark of his wedding ring still visible on the fingers gripping her gyrating hips.

“You have got to be kidding me,” you muttered, pulling out your phone. You snapped pictures, the flash startling the couple.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Sabine screeched, scrambling to cover herself.

“Exposing your sorry ass,” you replied coldly, turning your attention to the man with a death glare. “And you. Go back to your wife, with your thirsty ass.”

The man froze, unsure of what to do, while Sabine lunged at you, her expression a mix of fury and panic. “Get out! Get the fuck out, you crazy bitch!”

But you were ready. “You damn right I’m crazy!” Blocking her first swing, you shoved her back, rushing forwards and tackling her with a spear that Roman would have been proud of. You both went flying over the bed but you were on her like white on rice.

The fight was brutal, a messy flurry of punches, slaps, and screams. But you had rage on your side, and Sabine was no match for it.

“You think you tough, huh?” you growled, pinning her down and raining blow after blow on her exposed ribcage. “You wanna put hands on a man cuz you know he won’t hit you back? Try that shit with me, bum ass ho!”

Sabine clawed at you, but you dodged her attacks effortlessly. You landed a solid punch to her jaw, sending her head snapping back and crumpling to the ground.

“Get up,” you hissed, your chest heaving as you dragged her by her hair across the linoleum floor. “Get your ass up!”

Her partner stood frozen in the corner, too much of a coward to intervene. Smart. He didn’t want this smoke. You delivered a swift kick to Sabine’s side followed by another punch, your anger boiling over. Each blow was cathartic, a release of every ounce of pain you’d witnessed Roman endure.

The cuts. The bruises. The tears.

For him, you held nothing back.

“That man loves you!” you spat, crouching down beside her as she lay against the wall in a pathetic heap. “Only God knows why but he does. He worships the ground you walk on, and this is how you treat him? You don’t deserve him!”

Sabine whimpered, blood trickling from her lip, her face streaked with tears. “I’m gonna call the cops,” she spluttered.

You laughed darkly. “Go ahead. I dare you,” you hissed, holding your phone in front of her face. “I have pictures of everything you did to him. Every mark, every bruise…all documented. I’ll make sure everyone knows what a lying, cheating, abusive bitch you are. Matter of fact…” You tapped a button and smirked. “The pictures I just took of you and ole boy here? I just sent them to Roman. Maybe now he’ll finally dump your ass.”

Sabine sneered. “You're so desperate. Always have been for that man. No one will believe you or him. Big bad Roman Reigns getting beat up by little bitty me? He’ll be a laughing stock!”

“See, now that’s where you’re wrong. I dug up the footage of the restaurant where you had your double date with Jimmy and Naomi. You punched his injured ribs in the parking lot. You slapped Roman in front of the restroom three times. You thought there were no cameras there, didn’t you?”

Sabine’s eyes widened in horror. With her last strength, she swung wildly at you, trying to grab your phone. “Okay stop…Don’t, okay? Please don’t! You’ll ruin everything.” The bitch was begging now, pissing you off even more.

“Fuck you!” You slapped her. “Now listen to me carefully,” you said, your voice icy. “You’re going to call off the engagement. You’re gonna disappear and never contact Roman again, or I’ll post everything online. Everything. If you so much as look in his direction, what I’ll do to you will make you wish I killed you tonight. Do you understand me?”

Sabine nodded, trembling from pain and fear.

“Good.” Straightening up, your smirk was cold and triumphant. “Rot in hell, you dirty whore.” Spitting at her feet, you turned on your heel and walked out.

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

Roman’s voice was tense when he called you.

“What did you do?”

“Something I should’ve done a long time ago,” you replied, unapologetic. “That bitch was not only hitting you, she was cheating on you. She deserved worse.”

“Baby, I told you to stay out of it,” he said, but there was no anger in his tone—just exhaustion.

“And I told you I couldn’t. I care too much about you. I wasn’t going to stand by and do nothing any longer.”

There was silence on the other end before Roman sighed. “Where are you?”

“On my way to yours. Are you home?” you asked him.

“Yeah.”

“I’m coming over. I wanna see you.”

When you arrived at his house, he was waiting for you on the porch. Jumping to his feet, he hugged you tightly, then his eyes lingered on your bruised knuckles. “Your hands…”

“I’ll be fine,” you assured him. “It’s not me I’m worried about.”

Roman’s expression softened, but his eyes were heavy with guilt. “You could get in trouble for this.”

“You’re the goddamn Tribal Chief. I know you can make that shit go away,” you said with a small smirk. “But even if I do catch a case, I won’t care. It was worth it.”

Despite everything, Roman chuckled softly. He looked at you with a mix of gratitude and sadness. “Babe…”

“I’m serious. I’d do it again,” you declared, your voice trembling with all the sincerity you could muster. “I fight for the people I love. That’s just who I am.”

Roman’s gaze searched yours, raw and vulnerable. “Why would you do all this for me?”

Your heart melted as you cupped his face. It was time to come clean. “Because I love you,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “I’m in love with you. And you deserve to have the kind of love I feel for you.”

Roman’s eyes widened, softened, and for a moment, the world stood still. Before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned up and kissed him. To your surprise and delight, he kissed you back, the tension melting from his body. It was a kiss of desperation, relief, and unspoken longing.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours. Emotion flickered in his eyes, relief mixing with hesitation. “I’ve always had feelings for you,” he confessed. “I never acted on it but Sabine kept accusing me of cheating on her with you. She said you only wanted me for my money and the clout. Her exact words.” He frowned. “She said you'd never love me like she did. And I believed her.”

Your heart ached for him. “She lied to keep you under her thumb,” you said gently, taking his hands in yours. “And I would never do that to you, Ro. You mean a whole lot more than that to me.”

He sighed. “I know. I’ve always known. And I love you too, but…I need time. She…she fucked me up. I need to figure out who I am without her.”

Resting your palm tenderly on his cheek., you whispered fiercely, “I know exactly who you are. You’re Roman fucking Reigns. The Head of the Table. The billion-dollar face of WWE. And most importantly, you’re the kindest, most humble, selfless man I’ve ever known. Don’t let her take that from you.”

Smiling his first genuine smile in weeks, Roman kissed your lips again, his relief palpable. “Thank you,” he breathed, “For everything.”

“You don’t ever need to thank me. I’ll do anything for you. And I’ll wait for you for as long as you need,” you promised.

He smiled softly—a happier, hopeful smile. “Thank you. Although…I believe it’ll be sooner than you think.”

Your heart soared. “Good.”

It wasn’t a fairy-tale ending, but it was a start. And that was enough.

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

Roman sits on the black leather chair, his hands clasped tightly, his leg bouncing nervously as the camera crew makes last-minute adjustments to the lighting. The room is quiet except for the low hum of equipment, but the weight of what he’s about to do makes the silence feel deafening. He stares at the floor, his usually confident presence replaced by hesitation and vulnerability.

You stand just off-camera, watching him closely. Despite the months that have passed since Sabine’s abuse came to light, the remnants of her cruelty linger—not just in the faint bruise still visible near his eye but in the way his shoulders tense and his jaw tightens.

He’s terrified.

“Fuck...I don’t know if I can do this,” he mutters under his breath, barely loud enough for you to hear.

You step forward, crouching beside him so you’re at eye level. “Yes, you can,” you say firmly, your voice steady and soothing. “You’re not just Roman Reigns, the Tribal Chief. You’re Roman Reigns, the human being, the survivor. And someone out there needs to hear what you have to say. You’re going to save lives today.”

He looks at you, and for a moment, you see his doubt waver. You reach out, placing a reassuring hand on his cheek. “Baby, it’s okay. I’ll be right over there.” You point at the spot where you’ve been standing. “You can look at me if you need to.”

Roman takes a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly before nodding. When he opens them, a flicker of his familiar determination shines through. He shifts in his seat, straightens his back, and looks directly into the camera as the red light flicks on.

“My name is Roman Reigns,” he begins. His deep voice reverberates around the room, steady but carrying an unmistakable weight. “You know me as a WWE Superstar, a champion, the Head of the Table. But today, I’m here as something else—a survivor of domestic violence.”

He pauses, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. “For a long time, I stayed silent. I thought admitting the truth would make me look weak. I thought people wouldn’t believe me, that they’d say, ‘He’s a strong man, a wrestler. How could someone like him be abused?’ But abuse doesn’t discriminate. It doesn’t care how big you are, how strong you look, or what kind of life you live. It can happen to anybody.”

His voice cracks slightly as he adds, “Abuse isn’t just about fists. It’s the words that cut deeper than any punch. It’s the control, the manipulation, the fear that keeps you silent. I told myself it would get better. That I could fix it. That my love would be strong enough for her to change. But the truth is, no one changes unless they want to. No one deserves to live in fear—no one. And love should never, ever hurt you or make you feel bad or guilty…or worthless.”

Roman glances down for a moment, composing himself, before looking back at the camera. “To anyone out there who feels trapped, ashamed, or afraid: You are not weak. You are not alone. There is help, and there is hope. You have the strength to break free, and you deserve to be loved and respected.”

Pausing, he casts a nervous glance in your direction. You smile at him, mouthing the words, “I love you.” That seems to bolster him, as his voice has gained a new strength when he continues.

“I’ve learned that even the strongest among us need help sometimes. Asking for it doesn’t make you less of a man, less of a person. It makes you…human. I needed help, and I got it, and I’m grateful.”

Roman exhales deeply, his gaze unwavering. “Today, I’m standing here not just for myself but for every survivor who’s been told their pain doesn’t matter. It matters. You matter. And if my story can help even one person find the courage to speak up...to break free and walk away...then it’s worth it.”

He nods slightly, his voice softer now but just as resolute. “You are not weak. You are not alone. And you are worth fighting for.”

THE END

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

I hope this wasn't too heavy. I know you guys aren't used to this from me. How did I do?

Protect good men.

Please leave comments! I love comments 😁😙😊

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#roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #wwe #roman reigns angst #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns x black oc #msbigredmachine writes #otc

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chococara25 · 2 days ago

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Thanksgiving

AU where Buck woke up, thinking about Tommy and decided to cook for Thanksgiving, baking crusty pecan pies & pumpkin pies, delicious green bean casseroles and sweet potato gratins, cheesy cauliflower cheese with turkey bacon bits, creamy mashed potatoes and the classic stuffings.

After done with baking and cooking, he realized he had no one to give it to (Everyone would just give him weird looks if he brings everything to potluck Thanksgiving dinner, plus they had forbid him from cooking) and wondering if he should donate to the homeless shelters cos at least someone can sleep warm with a full stomach when Lucy Donato texted him out of nowhere complaining how everyone is swamped in calls all day long and how hungry they are including Tommy, who came in to cover someone's shift and EPIPHANY!! He can just give them to the 217 AND check on Tommy at the same time.

He starts to pack everything before separating some food into different containers and stick a sticky note on each of them. He then unload the bread loaves and cookies he had been making for the past week into a basket cos waste not, want not right?

Tommy coming back from a weird call involving some idiots trying to make turkey barbacoa in their backyard when he saw everyone gathering around the dining table, stuffing their face, moaning about the delicious food and praising the cook.

He was confused till he turned around to see Evan of all people staring at him, unruly curls and dark circles under his eyes.

"Hey. Lucy said you guys haven't eaten all day." Evan looked awkwardly at him.

(At the corner of his eyes, he can see Lucy slunking off guiltily, carrying a whole pie and weird a plate of cupcakes with her)

Evan looked as if he wanted to say something but looked away, his lips twisted unhappily. He pushed a bag full of containers and a basket full of bread and cookies at them before running away.

Tommy hid in one of the closets, checking the bag and basket, its contents each marked by a sticky note.

The Banana Loaf - "Everytime I think of calling you, I baked instead. Now my fridge is full but I'm still thinking about you."

The Snickerdoodle cookies - "Jee asked where cool uncle Tommy was. She misses her tea party partner."

Vanilla and raspberry mascarpone loaf cake - "I can't stop thinking how you would enjoy all the cakes and pastries I made for the past few months."

green bean casserole - "I still have your clothes and I kept wearing them to sleep cos its the closest thing I have to you because I have a hard time falling asleep without you holding me in your arms"

Carrot cake loaf - "I saw a helicopter today at work and I wonder if it was you flying it. We never did have that flying lesson."

cauliflower cheese - I'm sorry I never told you I love you when I really do. I love you and I missed every single minute the moment you walk out of my life.

pecan pie - I'm sorry I said the wrong things when I asked you to move in with me. I'm sorry I too much in the end for you and drove you away."

pumpkin pie - I'm sorry you felt pressured but I didn't lie, I really admire you and your confidence made me feel safe, being with you was like waking up for the first time from the lightning coma, I could breath again and you were the one who set me free.

sweet potato gratin - "You said you were my first but not my last. Tommy, you might be my first boyfriend but you definitely my last."

stuffings - "You are my beginning and my forever happy ending. I have no interest in looking for a different happy ending if you're not in it."

By the time he reached the last container, his eyesight were blurry with unshed tears.

Brownies - "Can we try one more time? I'm not ready to give on us."

Tommy was startled when the door to the closet swung open, Captain Pruitt looming over him with a plate of pecan pie in her hands. "I saw firefighter Buckley earlier when he dropped off the food. I don't know what's going on between the two of you and why both of you decided to break up, but Kinard, that man looks as if he still in love with you."

She panicked as Tommy burst into loud tears, holding the container of brownies to his chest.

Evan was cleaning up his kitchen, he was too tired and too emotionally wrung out to stay for the Thanksgiving dinner other than dropping off the last two pies for everyone to enjoy.

He frowned when he hear the doorbell, wondering if Maddie is going to stage another intervention on him when he opened the door, before staring in surprise.

Tommy was standing in front of him, still wearing his flight suit, holding the container with brownies and the sticky notes in his arms.

"Can we talk?" He asked with hopeful eyes.

Evan pulled him into the loft, closing the door behind them.

#bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #fix it fic #thanksgiving #911 abc #tevan #both of them deserved better #I might write it out and post it

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grimmsbride · 2 days ago

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USELESS FUCKING JANITOR [ daisuke / reader ]

after a small incident with jimmy, you’re left feeling miserable and a little bad for yourself. luckily a certain useless ray of sunshine pops in just to comfort you

notes / this originally was gonna be smut but i decided to go a different direction, whilst the next daisuke fic will def be smut. please enjoy and please excuse any typos or grammar mistakes

You hadn’t know the co-captain for long. You didn’t know much about his background, values, or morals. You didn’t know a thing about him, yet you knew enough to steer clear of his path. Something about him was unnerving, and sometimes downright odd. One such being the way he loved to pick people apart. Metaphorically digging his fingers into a person, pulling each little insecurity as if perfect bullets for his emotional ammo. You’ve seen Jimmy do this to Anya, reminding her of her flaws and lack of accomplishments. You wondered how exactly she continued the day as if his words had no effect. Like water off a duck’s back.

Other times it was his captain and even friend Curly. Though far in between. While few times it was Daisuke, the only bundle of optimism left tracking around the ship. You couldn’t deny the affection you were slowly developing for the other. Was it simply you being a hormonal young woman in close capacity with another hormonal young man surrounded by grumpy older people? Or was it something else? Either way you couldn’t deny the way your stomach fluttered each time he would smile at you, wave, or even blink in your direction.

Let alone how he met Jimmy’s usually harsh words with a bright beam of a smile, declaring he’ll do better. Only for the co-captain to sigh and mumble something under his breath, truly bothered by the intern’s existence.

If only you were capable of taking a piece of his personality in times like this.

The day had started off simple, you walking around; earbuds shoved in whilst cleaning up. From dusting, scrubbing, to wiping down surfaces; you were nearly done with your daily duties. Unless of course someone made a mess later, but the others were luckily nice enough to clean up after themselves like the grown people they were.

The last task was to mop, one you dreaded quite a bit. While the clean smell the chemicals left behind were a nice touch, you truly hated how heavy the mop got or how bulky that ugly yellow bucket was. Regardless of your opinion you had a job to do, and fulfill it you would.

The wheels squeaked against the floors as you dragged the large bucket, the chemical-water swishing against the walls of the plastic container. You slowed your dragging as you came across the hallway, humming softly along to the music currently blasting in your ears.

You silently thanked your past self for the taking the time to pack your i-pod, knowing you wouldn’t be able to survive a second on this place without it. And despite Curly’s slight reservations about it — safety and all that — he didn’t bother you much since you got your work done efficiently.

Plunging the long stringed mop into the water, you slowly lifted the heavy weight up and between the unholy yellow contraption. Grabbing the black bar, you pushed, wringing out the excess water for a moment before releasing the mop from the tension. Once satisfied you lifted the mop out, slowly dragging it against the floor in careful strides, assuring each space was throughly cleaned.

In the midst of your focus, and between songs; you couldn’t help but hear a voice you came to enjoy. Your eyes flicked to the side, spotting Daisuke standing in the main lobby, wearing a nervous smile whilst his mentor stood over him.

You couldn’t make out everything they were saying but you got the gist from the expressions plastered across their faces. One of irritation and the other of nervousness. Nine times out of ten Daisuke accidentally messed something up with his overzealous nature once again.

You rose the mop blindly, plunging it into the water just when the man glanced over at you. You spotted a little crinkle of his lips, his once nervous smile growing just a bit cheeky. You could only chuckle softly, lip quickly being bit to silence your laughter. The last thing you wanted to do was get on Swansea’s bad side as well.

Unfortunately, however, with your focus elsewhere you hadn’t even realized how rough you were being with the mop. Attempting to pull it out suddenly grew difficult the moment it got caught on the edge of the bucket, tipping it forward and soon falling.

Just in time for a certain co-captain to be walking by.

All color drained from your face as a loud swear fell from his lips. Your eyes settled onto the man, spotting the darker colored fabric of his uniform. Luckily there was no bleach in the bucket.

Jimmy glared down at his clothes before turning the harsh stare to you.

“Are you incapable of mopping or something?”

You swallowed harshly, gripping the handle of your mop nervously. “I—i’m sorry Jimmy, I..”

“You have the easiest job in this entire place and you still manage to find a way to fuck it up.”

You clammed shut instantly, watching his lips continue to move yet not hearing a thing. You felt raw and open under the harmful speech he uttered, forcing yourself to breathe as not to shed tears. You had done so well before keeping your head down near this man, escaping his radar as not to cause tension.

But of course, your luck ran out in this exact second.

“Useless fucking janitor..” Jimmy finished, walking off, shoes noticeably squeaking with each step. You bit the inside of your cheek, feeling your rapid heartbeat slow the moment he was out of earshot. Still, his words rung through your mind, clouding it and soon your vision.

You blinked rapidly, quickly moving to lift the bucket and clean up the mess you created.

All under the watchful eye of a certain someone.

“Hey, what are you listening to?”

Your eyes slowly rose from the floor of your room, drifting over to the young man currently occupying space in the doorway. His lips were curled into a little smile, tapping his fingers against the entryway for a moment before stepping inside fully— the door sliding behind him.

You shrugged a little, waving your i-pod lazily. “Some random song.” You mumbled back, attention going back to the floor as drums and singing filled your ears. Usually you were up for conversation, loving to go on tangents about the music blasting in your ears. Through your talks, it felt as if you were still connecting to your home back on Earth.

Earth.. oh how you wished to go home. Away from that god forsaken co-captain that just loved to ruin another’s day. It’s not like it’s your fault his life is so shitty. He shouldn’t take it out on you or anyone else for that matter.

Stewing in your anger, you hadn’t notice Daisuke come even closer until he was standing right beside you. In a split moment he was dropping to sit beside you, knee grazing your own as he crossed his legs.

“Mind if I listen?”

You thumbed the circle button of the little device, lips pursed stubbornly. No, you can’t listen. I rather stew and rewind that complete embarrassment of a lecture I received hours ago. Was your first thought, ready to leave your tongue as your eyes darted over to the other.

Except you couldn’t. Not when he was smiling like that, so sweetly; eyes crinkled and pretty lips curled. You swallowed silently, a shaky hand lifting to the earbud closest to him and extending it towards the other. His fingers grazed your own as he grabbed the bud gently, coming just a bit closer to you as he tucked the bud into his ear.

Daisuke’s head went slack, hands falling to his lap as the music ran through his ear. It’s been a while since he heard good music like this. Not the typical instrumentals Swansea played — albeit rarely — when they were working. No, this was perfect. A nice reminder to what he has back home.

“Let me ask, do you listen to this music when you’re cleaning up?”

You nodded slowly, moving a bit uncomfortably whilst leaning back into your bed. “Yeah.. I can clean without music but ya know, I prefer it.”

“I get what you mean. Helps you stay focused doesn’t it?”

Daisuke peeked at you, causing your mouth to run dry; deciding just to nod. A silence entered the room shortly after, the two of you simply listening to your music; your lips slowly moving to mouth the lyrics. Within the second chorus of the song, was when Daisuke spoke again.

“What Jimmy said earlier..”

You shook your head, “Daisuke, you don’t have to say anything. I’m not a child, I don’t need to be consoled after being lectured.” You said cynically, eyebrows furrowing just a little as you glanced at anything but him.

But, the young man didn’t let up. Daisuke gently begun again;

“I’m not consoling you. Just.. reminding you how cool you are.”

You snorted at his words, eyes finally stealing away from the floor to glance at him. “You being funny?” You questioned with a raised eyebrow. You watched, in a rather annoyed manner, as the man shook his head— with enough force his earbud slid a bit, causing him to quickly adjust it.

Despite his assurance, you weren’t convinced.. at all.

“I’m a janitor, Daisuke. I highly doubt that’s cool.”

You watched as his eyes rolled, furthering your minor irritation and confusion.

“You’re a janitor.. yeah— but think about it!” Daisuke hummed, flashing another one of his perfect smiles. “Without you this ship would be filthy, smell bad, and maybe even dusty. Terrible conditions for someone to work or live in.”

You glanced away, struggling to keep your lips in a neutral position. “Anyone can clean, Daisuke.”

“Yeah but you’re the one doing it. Not me, Curly, Anya, Swansea— or Jimmy. You are..”

You shivered as you felt gentle fingers on the back of your hand, causing your eyes to blink back to the other occupying the space beside you. Drifting from that sweet smile down to your hand, you noticed his fingers gently tracing your knuckles for a moment. The feeling was.. pleasant, intimate— enough that a heat of warmth flushed from your chest all the way to your cheeks.

“—You’re just as important as anyone else on this ship.” Daisuke hummed, stealing your attention back to his words. With ease the man was curling his fingers around your hand, turning it over to then link his digits with your own.

“At least I think so. And..”

This time Daisuke leaned close, lips just a breath’s away from your ear. “Whatever you splashed on Jimmy just made him smell.. wayyy better.”

You snorted, now all smiles and teeth as laughter escaped you. Your own pleasant sounds mixed with his, the two of you bumping into each other in the midst of your joy. You hadn’t even noticed the squeeze he was giving to your hand, nor the way your head was practically leaning onto his shoulder.

Moments of this bliss passed before you two could slowly settle down, realization of your current positions quickly dawning on you. Your eyes drifted to the hold resting on your lap, the cool sliver ring he wore rubbing against your heated skin. Your eyes rose from the hold and over to the man beside you, spotting him already looking at you.

Again, that same warmth overtook you— the same warmth that has been doing so for months; every time you looked at this bundle of sunshine. Your lips curled in onto themself, struggling to keep eye contact as nothing seemed to swirl in the eyes staring back at you.

Only when they suddenly flicked to your lips did you get even an inkling of what he wanted. Luckily, the feeling was definitely mutual.

Squeezing his hand, you moved closer— Daisuke meeting your advance and pressing his lips to your own. The kiss was slow, full of uncertainty yet passionate enough that same bliss trickled throughout your entire body. His thumb circled your skin, whilst his other hand reached over to gently grab your arm.

Moments passed before the two of you were satisfied, or more like out of breath; pulling away as your chests rose and fell in tandem. Your head lowered to rest against his shoulder, smiling to yourself as his warmth and your music consumed you.

“So uh.. does this mean we’re… together?”

You chuckled softly, turning to stamp a kiss against his neck, feeling him shiver.

“Yes Daisuke.”

#black fanfic writer #black fanfiction #black tumblr #black!reader #chubby reader #poc writer #black reader #x reader #/ reader #reader insert #fluff #daisuke mouthwashing #daisuke x reader #daisuke mw #intern daisuke #reader x daisuke #▌ ִ ♱⠀ׂ ִ gooey ⸺ fics. 𒀭

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cherryblossompink303 · 3 days ago

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Patience:~The gradeschool host is the naughty type!~

➼ pairing: Kyoya Ootori x Reader ➼ summary: Tamaki gains an apprentice, but you are a little too knowledgeable on his true intentions ➼ what to expect: "Would he wait do you think?" "I think he would...when you have a look like that you find yourself to be incredibly...patient" ➼ warnings: none ➼ Part five | Part seven

When you enter the host club that day the last thing you expected to find was a literal child. Yet as you stepped through the doors to music room three there was one sat concerningly close to Tamaki and a guest. "What's going on?"

"Tamaki's got an apprentice" Kyoya recaps, eyes focussed on the scene unfolding. "How old is this...apprentice?" you hesitate to call the child that but struggled to find a better word. "Not old enough to be here" Haruhi points out.

Isn’t it a bit strange, making Shiro observe him up close like that?”

He hums, “There is a theory that people are considered more beautiful the closer they are viewed. Tamaki seems to live by that theory.” He says it like he has it memorized- which he probably does.

"Hmm is that why you always insist on sitting near me during club hours?" you joke, batting your eyelashes dramatically, to your surprise this seems to fluster Kyoya a little, or at least much as one can expect from him "I- Well- thats so i can get your consultation on things"

“You look more like the carp that swim in my pond at home. I’d never give false compliments like that!”

Both of your attention is drawn to Shiro, already running his little mouth.

“Carp?!” The guest cries out, an embarrassed blush flushing over her cheeks. Tamaki is quick to reach out and comfort her.

“Oh, don’t listen to him. He’s just a kid- you know how kids are- they can’t help but be honest.”

“Oh, Tamaki.” You cringe at his statement and sigh.

“Honest?!” She shrieks, turning herself away from Tamaki, shedding tears.

“But that’s just his opinion! I wouldn’t say you look like a carp, and even if you did, you’d be the most beautiful carp of them all!” Tamaki tries his hardest to console his guest, but it only results in further insulting.

“So I am a carp!?” She gasps, shrieking once more. You have half a mind to cover your ears but only wince.

Tamaki, dumbfounded, “Uh, no, that’s not what I meant.” He sweats.

“Tamaki, you’re an idiot!” An all too familiar phrase.

“No, wait! Mermaid Princess!” Tamaki reaches for her, desperate.

Blank-faced, Shiro stands beside him, “Man, what a crybaby.” He scoffs, utterly unfazed by the whole ordeal.

Tamaki peeks at him over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed, and teeth bared, growling animalistically. How could such a young child have lost him a guest already?

Hikaru snickers, “So how’s it going, boss?! That’s an adorable little apprentice you’ve got there.” He finds it hard to withhold his laughter.

“Hikaru…” Hikaru’s attention only diverges when he hears his twin’s whining voice.

“Do you wish you had a little brother like Shiro?” In a split second, invisible to the naked eye, Hikaru sweeps Kaoru up in a tender embrace, cradling him against his body.

“Don’t be silly. I could search the globe, and I’d never find a better brother than you, Kaoru.” Hikaru presses his lips to the top of Kaoru’s head.

“Hikaru.” Kaoru lets out in a breathy moan, his eyes hooded in his brother’s embrace.

Two patrons pop up over their shoulder, “Look! They’re doing it!”

“It’s forbidden, brotherly love!”

Shiro stumbles back, grips the table, “They’re homos! And they’re brothers! That makes this totally ‘insectuous’!” He grips his grade school uniform tightly with his other hand.

You appear behind him, “I think what you meant to say was incestuous.” You nod firmly.

Before he has a chance to reply, Shiro is firmly embraced by Honey.

“Hey, Shiro-chan! You wanna have a piece of cake with me? We’ve got three kinds: chocolate, strawberry, and lime.” Honey dangles from Shiro’s shoulders, roughly similar in size.

Shiro roughly shoves him off, “Hey, back off! What grade are you in, anyway?! Why are you wearing a high school uniform?” Shiro nearly shouts, irritated to no end.

A large shadow casts over them, “Something wrong, Mitsukuni?”

Shiro looks up, and, to his horror, Mori stands before them.

Honey leaps toward Mori and wraps himself around him. “That’s not fair! A little kid like you isn’t supposed to have a cool, older friend like him!”

Truthfully, both are in the same class.

Shiro backpedals a little, unintentionally bumping into your leg, wipping around to stare up at you in shock. He stares at you for a moment as if analysing you, eyes landing on your pile of notes about the host club tucked under your arm.

"Are you some sort of super fan for these weirdo's or something"

Your jaw drops, what is intended to be a laugh instead comes out as a scoff, resisiting the urge to ball up your fists at a child. Kyoya's gaze frantically darts between the two of you, nerves rising as he recalls how you felt when your position was dismissed not too long ago by renge.

You let out a shaky breath, turning to look up to Kyoya "I can't deal with him, don't make me" you plead "You deal with them everyday" he nods to the other club members. You sigh, knowing he had you cornered.

“Okay, that’s enough! I think Shiro should take care of the tea for us, don’t you?” tamaki interrupts, nervously handing a tea tray to you to give to Shiro.

"Fine, but watch out it's heavy" you conceded, leaning down a little to offer the tray to him, which for a moment he seems to accept, wrapping his hands around the handles, however as soon as you let go the tea tray falls to the floor, shattering what is easily upwards of sis figures worth of ceramic.

"It’s not my fault I dropped it. It’s your fault 'cause you’re the one who made me take it in the first place.”

You quite nearly lost it at that one, about to lunge at the kid.

Before you can make any move, Kyoya wraps his arm around your torso and tugs you back, his strength preventing you from moving. You grunt and squirm, eager to give Shiro a piece of your mind.

“That’s enough, y/n, if you're charged with assault you'll never gain citizenship and you would have to go home” his reasoning, although dramatic, is clear. You slump in his arms and let your features go blank with a deep sigh.

“I’m not here to carry tea sets- I’m here to learn how to make women happy!” Shiro’s voice has reduced to nothing but a whiny, high-pitched tone to your ears.

“You won’t get anywhere with that attitude. And I am not going to let you disrespect y/n. So!” Tamaki points his index finger in Shiro’s direction determinedly. “Put this brat in isolation!”

More than eager to comply, the twins are at his side, “You got it, boss!”

An iron cage falls from the ceiling on chains and traps Shiro where he stands. “What’s going on here?! Why’d you put me in a cage all of a sudden?!”

“Yeah, and where’d it come from? This is supposed to be a music room, right?” Haruhi questions aloud, tilting her head at the cage.

Shiro climbs onto the bars of the cage, “This is no way to treat your loyal apprentice. Now let me out of this cage!” He demands irritatedly.

“Not until you’ve learned your lesson. I made you my apprentice because I thought you were serious about becoming a host, but I guess I was wrong.” Tamaki sighs woefully, intending to draw a reaction from the grade school student.

“I am serious. Totally serious.” When Tamaki refuses to reply, unconvinced and sipping his tea, Shiro falls desperate.

“I want you to teach me how to make a woman happy!”

Still, nothing. No one is convinced. Especially not you as you sit near Kyoya on a love seat, boredly flipping the pages of a nearby book as he writes adjacent to you.

With a defeated cry, Shiro falls to his knees, gripping the bars tightly between his fists. This draws your head up to glance at him.

“I’m gonna run out of time. Please, won’t you teach me?” his tone is no longer demanding, only forlorn and pleading.

“You’re a host because you like girls. You like bringing a smile to a girl’s face- that’s why you do it, right?”

Shiro’s pleading manages to draw Tamaki’s attention, only earning a side glance.

“Please, won’t you teach me how to be like you? You’re a genius at it! You’re the king!”

You look at tamaki, knowing that all anyone has to do was say the K word to convince him.

The titles Shiro’s given to Tamaki in his desperation calls the aforementioned king to his feet. He feels a sudden urge to teach him again; God could only know why.

“Well, you may be a brat, but I admire your desire to become a host, so I’ll teach you.”

This draws no reaction from Shiro.

“You know, Shiro, you and I are so much alike.” Tamaki wraps himself in his own arms.

Haruhi appears, “You poor kid.” You snicker at that.

Shiro straightens immediately, a smile stretched across his cheeks, “Then you’ll help me become the kind of host that can make any woman happy?!” his tone is hopeful.

“Of course, making women happy is the sole purpose of being a host. If this is what you really want, Shiro, then you have to figure out how to use the material you already have.”

“What does that mean?”

At the opposite end of Shiro’s cell, Kyoya appears. Shiro stands with his back pressed to the bars in sheer terror at his appearance.

“You see, here at the Ouran Host Club, our policy is to use our individual personality traits to meet the needs of our guests. For example, there’s Tamaki, who is the princely type.” he nods over to the leader who is staring wistfully out of a window.

"the strong, silent type" he nods over to mori, who is holding up honey on his shoulders. "The boy lolita type" The twins soon slide in , attempting to steal the attention

"The little devil type" you attempt to hold back a laugh at the name, fogetting that was the label that had been given to the two of them. "And the cool type"

You once again look up to Kyoya, forgetting that he had a host type at all, he rarely ever actually saw clients. But then again he definitely fit the bill.

It makes you wonder what he would be like if he ever dropped the persona. All of the hosts had personas they played up during club hours, you knew that, but even when there were group hang outs with no clients, his never drops, maybe he relaxes a little, but theres always that wall.

It makes you wonder how much you know about him at all, what do you know about him that wasn't curated for your perception.

"It’s all about variety. And now our group is complete with the addition of Haruhi, the natural."

The complete host club stands in front of Shiro’s cell, “It would seem that right now we have a perfect blend of characteristics, so it’s going to be difficult to find a new type for Shiro.”

While you stand off in the distance behind them, watching from afar. It hasn’t been much different from this before, but when you notice it, it feels a bit difficult. You fold your hands behind you and hang your head. It’s not like this isn’t expected.

“If you go by his age, he should be the boy Lolita type.”

“But Honey-Senpai’s already got that covered.”

Tears streaking down his cheeks like a river, Honey turns to the club, “Is he gonna replace me?” he sniffles.

“Oh, come on! Is that all you’ve got?”

Your head snaps up at the unbodied voice. But when it clicks in your mind, all you can do is groan and fall clumsily onto the sofa behind you.

A powerful motor rumbles under the floor and shakes the ground. Renge rises on a platform as she does.

Renge sighs pensively, “Sorry to interrupt, gentlemen, but what’s with the lackluster character analysis? I must say, I’m quite disappointed. I thought I taught you better.” she shrugs.

You laugh to yourself looking at the two of them, he brought this on himself.

“Alright then. How would you work Shiro into our collection of characters? He can’t be the boy Lolita because Honey’s already got that covered.” Tamaki lifts a sobbing Honey by his underarms to present him to Renge.

“You just don’t get it, do you? Now listen up! There are plenty of girls out there who have a thing for younger boys or boys with baby faces. These girls would be considered shota fans. Now, shota can be a fairly broad category, so it’s important to know that the genre can be broken down into many different smaller sub-categories. For example, shota fans with an interest in Lolita boys would favor a boy like Haninozuka-Senpai.”

Kyoya’s pen moves furiously quick to record every word Renge says.

“But this little boy is different. If I had to pick a character for him… Yes! He’d be the naughty-boy type, without a doubt!” Renge’s smirk and determined gaze ought to terrify Shiro further.

“The naughty type?” He inquires curiously.

The cage rises off the ground and back into the ceiling.

“Now, to play up the naughty type, you have to wear shorts.” Renge crouches and points to Shiro’s uniform shorts, nodding, “Okay.”

She blasts her whistle again, “You’ve gotta have bumps and bruises! Give him a couple of scars!”

The twins are hunched by Shiro, covering him in bandages and marking him up with a pen.

The whistle, again.

“Run like a spoiled child! Make it reckless!” Shiro sprints on command.

“Now I want you to trip and make it big!”

Shiro’s foot catches on a taut rope with a yell, and he crashes to the ground with a loud thud, face first.

Renge bends near Shiro, her eyebrows furrowed, “Are you okay, little boy?” The character doesn’t last long; she blows once more on her whistle. “Now give them your catchphrase!”

Shiro wipes his cheek with a far-off look in his eyes, “No big deal, it was nothin’.”

Renge coos, “That was perfect! Absolutely perfect, Shiro!” She gushes.

Tamaki claps his hands together gently, “That was outstanding. I never knew you were such a great coach, Renge.”

Renge laughs haughtily.

“Oh, I never knew you were such a great coach, Renge.” Your face scrunches as you mock Tamaki, reaching for the teacup and saucer before you and taking a long sip.

Shiro stumbles to his feet, an alarmed expression crossing his features.

“Ugh, I’ve had enough of you people!” He captures everyone’s attention, including yours. You set your cup and saucer down as you observe.

Shiro practically shakes with frustration, “This is so stupid- none of this is ever gonna help me make her happy!”

You can see the panic in his eyes; you stand, head tilting, “Her?”

Shiro breaks into a run for the door.

“Shiro!” You call.

Oh. It all makes sense now, how did you not realise sooner.

“Wait, Shiro! We haven’t taught you how to apply the techniques you’ve learned yet!”

The door slams, and he’s gone. Your shoulders drop. Renge climbs back onto her platform, descending into the floor.

Much to your absolute delight.

“I swear, younger boys are good for nothing. I went to all that trouble to coach him, and he quits.”

“I can’t believe he ditched us because he didn’t like the lesson. What a selfish little brat.”

“There aren’t many people who’d enjoy that kind of lesson. But never mind that, did you hear what he said?”

You roll your eyes "You call yourself romantic experts, don't you see? didn't you hear what he said? This is about a girl!"

They stare back at you blankly, heads tilting to the side.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“How… on earth… did we let them talk us into this?” You grumble, picking at your skirt. Haruhi crosses her arms adjacent to you.

“It’ll be okay, y/n-chan. It was so easy to sneak in, and wearing this uniform, I really look like I’m in elementary school.” Honey peeks around the corner, dressed in a grade school uniform.

You and Haruhi, respectively, are dressed in middle school girls’ uniforms. Haruhi wears a darkly colored wig, and your hair is styled neatly straight, clip-on bangs secured to your hairline on the center of your head. They nearly cover your eyebrows, two longer pieces framing your eyes. You look exponentially younger, it reminds you of when you first arrived in Japan.

“Yeah, you do. I understand why they wanted you to wear an elementary school uniform. I mean, we are sneaking into an elementary school, and you totally fit in, Senpai.”

You and Haruhi stand on the opposite side of the doorway, Haruhi leaning on your shoulders.

“What I don’t understand is why they made us dress up in middle school uniforms,” Haruhi grumbles.

"Why did we even bother with disguises? We stick out like a sore thumb!” You growl in a harsh whisper, the outfits not really doing much for your heights.

A pair of doors creak open as the remains of the host club observe the three of you.

“Oh, there’s a reason, a damn good reason,” Tamaki assures, more to himself than anything, adding to his slight delusion of having completely protective intentions.

“This way, Haru-chan and y/n-chan!” Honey exclaims cheerfully, wrapping his arm around your own, as you, in turn, wrap your arm around Haruhi’s. The three of you trail along in a chain, you and Haruhi in your miniskirts that both of you try not to pay attention to.

“Aren’t they the cutest?” the twins exclaim.

“Oh, look at her in that miniskirt. Haruhi looks like a little doll!” Tamaki sighs.

Kyoya takes a moment to glance up from his book, catching you in the uniform as well. He can feel his lips tug upward, although the darkness shields his face, and that helps a little. You look youthful and optimistic, something he hasn’t noticed from you in a long while, it reminded him of when the two of you first met.

He quickly caught that he was smiling, and he was smiling because you were seemingly happy. it was strange to him, well-it's not like he wasnts to see you miserable- but why was he getting happy that you were happy?

Maybe it was because you were his fiance and he has a level of responsibility for you, but that is strictly business, he has to remind himself that now. He could not understand. What was this feeling?

He doesn’t stay silent for long. “So basically, you just wanted to see her dressed up like that.” he accuses with a sly smirk.

“A fair reason, of course.” Kyoya nods to himself.

Honey pries open the door to a classroom, “This is it. Shiro-chan’s classroom.” He creaks it open enough to fit inside. “When I was in elementary school, this was my classroom too!” he glides between desks excitedly.

You and Haruhi enter shortly after, marveling at the size of a mere elementary school classroom.

You place a hand on an empty desk, “There’s nobody here.” you acknowledge aloud.

The club appears. “So the kid’s classroom is empty, is it?”

The twins are the first to arrive, “This sure takes me back.” They chorus, striding in casually with their hands tucked into their pockets.

“I wonder if doodles are still on my desk.”

“Doubtful, the school changes out the desks every year.” Kyoya voices from behind them.

“Let’s check out the cafeteria after this.”

“I wanna see the old gym.”

“Good idea, Kaoru!”

You roll your eyes as you realise the true reason why you were in uniform “Hey! If you’re just gonna barge in here like that, then why’d we wear these stupid disguises?” You whine.

“Don’t worry about it.” Hikaru shrugs, his brother mirroring him.“There’s no one in here to catch us.” Kaoru informs.

“That’s my point!” you deadpan.

“And besides, who wouldn’t want to see you in this adorable little uniform?” Kyoya tugs at your collar gently and playfully, kknowing that you probably hated everything about this situation.

“Of course you only compliment me when I am seething" Kyoya casts his eyes down, “I think you look fine.” He shrugs.“Ah, I can see straight through your little 'disguise’ plan, mister, I-”

Suddenly, footsteps echo in the hall outside. None of you miss it.

You grab Kyoya by his wrist and yank him down under a desk along with you. The other hosts duck in nearby desks with gasps.

What you didn't consider was that it is tight fit for even one person never mind two, resulting in you and Kyoya being closer than ever. Physically that is.

“If the teacher finds us-”

“-we’ll have a hard time explaining why we snuck in.” the twins voice their concerns.

"Shut up" you whisper yell from across the underside of the desks Kyoya smirks "mad are we-" You press a finger to his lips and give him a stern glare, “You’re not very good at being quiet.” your voice is considerably quieter than his.

His eyes move down to your finger upon his lips, and so do yours. The two of you realising what exactly you were doing with a delay. blood rushing to both of your faces.

What happened next was peculiar to you, because it was not something you could describe. Suddenly you can feel you're heart thudding against your chest, your eyes lock as you feel yours almost melt in a way. Your mouth hangs open as if something is on the tip of your tongue but at the same time you can't form any thought of a word.

You linger for a moment before you notice the footsteps receding, breaking the sort of trance that held the two of you, your finger falls from his lips and your head snaps to the door. You quickly escape from your compromising position and head for the door.

The club groans exasperatedly as you peek out to watch the teacher turning the corner with no indication of catching the lot of you.

In your normal voice, “It’s alright, he’s gone. But you guys, we came here to get the scoop on Shiro, so what do you think we should do now?” You direct them back to the task at hand as they climb from their desks.

Kyoya’s migrated to the other side of the room, where pictures are pinned to the wall along with Honey.

“Well, here’s something interesting.” he captures the club’s and your attention. You stride to stand near them, “What’d you find?”

Kyoya points to a picture of Shiro at a piano with a girl his age, looking cheerful.

A look you had only seen on him once, however you quickly realised that wasn't the only time you had seen that look today.

“Hey, that’s Shiro!” You smile, stepping closer and craning your neck upwards to get a closer look.

“So he’s in the Classical Music Club.” Kyoya acknowledges.

“He looks like he’s enjoying himself. It’s nice to see him with a smile on his face. I had no idea he could look so sweet.” You hum, finding great comfort in knowing he’s in a club that makes him happy. Or, at least with someone that evokes that feeling.

Tamaki takes a moment longer to gaze at the photo.

“Yeah.”

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

You all find yourselves watching Shiro through a window in the room where the Classical Music Club congregates. He sits wistfully at a large window, far from the other children, peering out of the glass as he balances himself on the ledge.

“There he is! There’s Shiro-chan!” Honey gasps.

He looks pensive, thoughtful. Someone would say almost grumpy but the best word you could place for it was forlorn.

“Excuse me, Takaoji?” the calling of his name only earns a side glance.

“I’m sorry, but have you been practicing the new piece teacher gave us?”

“The new piece? Not really.”

“If you want, I can show it to you. Do you wanna come play it with me?”

“No thanks, you go ahead. After all, there’s only one grand piano. You should use it, Kamishiro.”

The girl stares at him a moment, a little disappointed, before shrugging it off with a smile, “Thank you! I will then! And if you want to join me, just let me know.” She hints.

As she begins to play, a soft smile stretches across Shiro’s face, and his eyes slip shut.

You and the club look on with intense curiosity. Although, Tamaki’s expression is solemn.

Just at that moment, a girl leaves the music room and is immediately approached by Tamaki.

“Pardon me, mademoiselle.” He offers her a white rose, “I’ve never seen a rose more lovely than you, my dear. Here, this is for you.” Tamaki’s ever-charming tactics prompt the girl into answering his questions.

“I was wondering if you could tell me anything about that young lady playing the piano. Do you know her?” his voice is gentle.

“That’s Hina Kamishiro.”

“Her name is Hina?” Tamaki clarifies.

“That’s right, but you better not fall in love with her.”

What a strange thing to say, especially for an elementary school girl.

Tamaki pushes further, “Why?”

“Didn’t you know? Hina has to move away soon. Her dad just got a new job in Germany, so they have to move there at the end of the week-”

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

Everyone’s attention is drawn to an enraged Shiro, practically shaking with fury.

“I want you idiots to leave immediately!” He orders.

Tamaki decides he’s had enough of Shiro’s ungrateful attitude and his mysterious motives.

With his blonde fringe covering his eyes, he lifts Shiro off the ground and hauls him over his shoulder with little effort, not even blinking an eye.

“Put me down! What are you doing?!”

Much to Shiro’s dismay, Hina peeks out from the music room to watch this embarrassing display.

The rest of the club follows in suit, “Let me go! Just put me down! Where do you think-”

“It’s time to go, guys. Quit thrashing around.” Despite the circumstances, Tamaki’s tone is relaxed and unfazed.

As the group returns to the club room, Tamaki tosses Shiro down on the nearest sofa, the room shrouded in darkness.

Shiro grunts at the impact and promptly sits up, “What is your problem you, big idiot?!”

His fringe still covering his eyes, Tamaki turns to you and gestures to Shiro. You nod.

“I’m sorry, but you’re the idiot.” Shiro instantly shuts his mouth, staring at you with wide eyes.

“You said that you wanted Tamaki to teach you how to make women happy. But that’s not what you wanted, is it?” You point an accusing finger close to his chest.

“You don’t want to make all women happy; you’re concerned with the happiness of one woman in particular. She’s the only one you care about, Hina Kamishiro.”

“But I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do to help you with that, Shiro.” you let your fingers drag across his chin before receding and allowing Tamaki to step in.

“Listen, Shiro. I know that I told you, it’s the job of a host to make women happy. But when you care for someone, you must find the courage to express what is in your heart. You have to tell her how you feel about her!”

“You didn’t come to me looking to become a full-fledged host. You want to be a full-fledged man.”

Shiro leans forward and hangs his head, placing his hands over his knees, “It doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve run out of time. I just wanted to hear her play before she left for good. That’s all.” His bratty composure has wholly fallen, giving way to his longing, loving side.

“That piece she played. It’s Mozart’s Sonata in D major for two pianos, isn’t it?” Tamaki pulls away a pale yellow curtain to reveal a grand piano in all its glory. He lifts open the lid and reveals the shining black and white slick keys like they’re brand new.

“Wait a minute, since when is there a grand piano in this room?” Haruhi drawls, confused.

“Well, this is a music room, after all-”

“So why wouldn’t it have a grand piano?” the twins ask as if it’s obvious.

“It is a music room, after all.” Kyoya sips a cup of tea, seated across from Honey and Mori.

“It is a music room.” Mori’s monotone voice is low and soothing.

“It’s always been there. We just had it covered up.” Honey shrugs as he swallows a bite of cake.

Tamaki poises his fingers over the keys and begins to flawlessly play the piece in question.

As usual, Tamaki seems to be putting no effort into his performance, his fingers gliding skillfully over the ivory keys like gentle feathers ticking the surface. It’s a learned skill.

Shiro rises from his place on the sofa to watch in awe.

“Awesome.” he exhales breathlessly. He is certainly someone who can appreciate this sort of skill.

“For the next week, you will spend your mornings, lunches, recesses, and free time after school in piano lessons with me.”

“But, why?”

“You wanted to be my apprentice, right? Besides, that young lady looked like she wanted nothing more than to play the piano with you.”

It’s like watching a creature in its natural habitat- Tamaki on the piano.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

You and the hosts stand in two lines on either side of the doorway, welcoming your guest, “Welcome, princess, we’ve been waiting.”

“I present to you, Shiro Takaoji’s piano recital.” Tamaki gives way to reveal Shiro sitting at a grand piano, an identical one just beside him with an empty, calling chair. Shiro’s face remains stoic as his gaze bores into the keys in front of him.

Hina hesitates in shock, her eyes wide and innocent as she processes her surroundings.

Tamaki pulls out the empty chair and gestures to the piano, “If you please, princess.”

She finally puts the pieces together for herself.

“Let’s play together, Hina.” Shiro flashes her a genuine smile.

“Okay!” She agrees quickly, settling down beside him, and they both begin to play.

With fond expressions, you and the host club are the perfect audience.

You and Kyoya watch from a distance, even both of your somewhat cold exteriors melting at the sight of young love blooming. "It must be difficult, moving to the other side other side of the world so young"

You hum "It is." you mutter, not entirely sure whether or not he was referring to Hina, or you. "I just pray that Hina is good at german" you whisper, silence between the two of you. Kyoya knew your struggles when you moved to Ouran well, everyone did. It wasn't that you didn't know Japanese, but knowing it and using it are two different things. It didn't need to be restated.

"At least...Even if she isn't....she'll have someone waiting for her" now this was an odd, not in the context of Shiro and Hina, that made perfect sense, but the two of you did this a lot, talking about one thing when in reality you're talking about each other.

"Would he wait do you think?"

"I think he would...when you have a look like that you find yourself to be incredibly...patient"

Next time on patience 'Jungle pool SOS!'

Tag list (reply to be added): @skottch @cgmajor @rebirthbunbun @bbybubbles @blueberry19000

#kyoya ootori #kyoya ootori x reader #kyoya x reader #ohshc #ohshc kyoya #ohshc x reader #ouran high school host club #ouran highschool host club #ouran host club #ouran hshc #kaoru hitachiin #ouran #ouran kyoya #hikaru hitachiin #haruhi fujioka #tamaki suoh

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insanescriptist · 8 hours ago

Text

Flip the Table

Casually eavesdropping on what should be highly secure frequencies, Jason sipped his beer in a sleezy saloon style sports bar somewhere on the Vegas strip, nominally watching college(?) football; he's a hockey fan because baseball's boring as shit to watch and he's never got the appeal about American football. Football to the rest of the world was at least worth watching for the drama. Something had the Justice League in a tizzy and Zatanna -the one who normally covered Vegas when it came to the costumed crazies- was off world; Jason didn't have the details exactly but it sounded like Zatanna was dealing with some magical planar stuff and was not expected back for at least six more days. Assuming all went well.

So like any reasonable person who's going away for a time, she turned on her home security, had the alerts wired over to a friend -in this case Justice League Dark- gave a list of what was needed to be done and when -the pick up my mail and mow my lawn equivalants- went on her trip, trusting that the JLD were watching over her city and it wouldn't be on fire when she got back.

Such glorious hope.

And thus something happened so when Jason pulled into Vegas proper to investigate a desperate -read last hope- lead on a missing person's case, Jason happened to spy one of the lesser members of the JLD losing their shit in the sky. And so in a moment of civic duty, Jason started spying on them.

Magic was not something anyone trained by the Bat really ever got comfortable about, but chances were magic bullshit was going to intervene in his case. Justice League shit spilled over everything, all the time. Ghost cultists tripping Zatanna's necromancy alarms or whatever they were, was not Jason's business. Not unless the presumed cultists -those that had survived- had the person he was looking for.

No, he was looking at a missing person's case and his lead was 1. cold and 2. a longshot and 3. in a city full of tourists and catering staff, where "seen anything unusual lately" could be "there was this trio of tourists arguing how sex with your best friend doesn't count as cheating," or "someone having a meltdown over the delayed shipping of organic blueberries to the hotel," or "Sarah Maria got murdered a couple weeks ago on the job, but I haven't seen any notice about her funeral stuff on her social media, why yes, I do know she's dead, oh, she's dead and I'm an idiot for expecting someone dead to post on their socials their funeral deets."

Point was, he could look and ask all he wanted, beat feet for days, but the chances of this lead panning out were basically so minuscule that Jason could treat this more as a hobby case while on vacation. He still did his due diligence, asked the staff a few questions, called the guests on the same floor during the time period of their stay about how they found their stay, ran into the dead end of shitty business practices -they recorded over their own records every two weeks- and so unless Jason got the ability to do magic and do a "point me!" spell, the case would turn cold. It sucked when it happened but sometimes the evidence wasn't there. Or wasn't noticed or was destroyed before it could be collected. Sometimes people just didn't remember shit until three weeks later, which with some follow up digging gave him the lead to the hotel. Which got him nothing after that.

As Jason Todd didn't gain an innate ability to do magic that he was aware of that actually counted as magic bullshit magic instead of a couple cantrips, all he could do was get a beer and some food in a Vegas style Texas saloon bar. Which not his first choice, but it was full enough no one really paid attention to anyone. Technically a sport's bar but also very much was not. It was also busy enough that Jason ended up getting asked if someone could set with him at his table -which real Jason said hell no to, but cover Jason did agree to-

Oh. Meta. Jason realized quickly. Oh no, he's hot.

His hair is on fire!

How did the server miss that? Most metas don't casually out themselves like that! Too many people willing to target them for whatever power.

That hair was flaming, tied back in a low tail; Jason blinked and the hair flickered color, looked like normal hair -black- and then back to white fire, then black fire, some tv static abomination of color, white hair and then black hair. Another blink and it appeared to be black flames for hair and yeah, Jason closed his eyes. Pointedly ignored the hair thing. If the meta asked, Jason was judging him for the stupid little goatee.

The rest of the meta was built along the same lines as Jason himself, tall, broad and built. Packed with muscle, which was something to make note of; metas usually were more durable and could hit harder, so Jason casually made note to not get hit if a fight broke out.

Which it might, or probably would.

That's just how Jason's luck ran. To shit.

Said meta also ordered food and a beer, didn't even get asked for ID -unfair bias- and judging by the sound, turned in the seat to look at the American football screen that Jason had been ignoring. His hair had at least settled to black flames instead of the glitchy hair.

Of course as this was Vegas, people gambled on outcomes of games too. Which is how Jason learned the meta was rich enough to blow a couple grand -not expensive in the world of supers- but more than what the average person would be comfortable betting.

There were better ways to piss away money than gambling on sports. Like on over priced burgers and onion rings with an order of mozzerella sticks. The burger was good, admittedly Jason's had better and then some party of guys was yelling at the ref on a screen. And yup, that's some altercation with another table but the barman broke it up with a couple of words.

His tablemate muttered something about the ref having made the right call if one of the players wanted to continue a career professionally and Jason used that as social leverage to get a name -Dan, no last name given- and a bit more in-depth explanation on what stakes were going on; he's a hockey guy, not a football guy.

Some time later, Dan had caught him up on the football drama -nothing compared to the hockey drama- and conversation had drifted significantly from sports, lightly touched on family -Dan had siblings he shared little about other than they existed, which fair, they could also be metas and at risk- much like Jason did -he had siblings that existed, no further details- and parents weren't mentioned. Instead a lot of engineering talk, a slide into ethics -Dan's opinion on killing super villains was very much that some people needed Ended- and some small talk about how Dan's high school English teacher cursed in classical book titles.

Soon the easy joy of potential friendship ended when his phone rang; that was the Batman ringtone and Jason felt no guilt hanging up on him. And again. And again.

Then Dick rang and nope. He was not dealing with their shit. Dick would just sweeten up whatever shit B wanted to shovel.

And then Oracle's ringtone rang. Oh, now that was serious. Justice League shit spilling into his life again. No fucking doubt about it.

"Uh-huh, so what's up? Because I gotta say, I am a couple drinks in and the whole bar is waiting for one of the football teams to fumble or foul up their next play so they can throw down."

"Jay-" She started because much like Bruce, she would rather go straight into the mission, and Jason absolutely had wrong-footed her. Because instead of making excuses to leave, Jason had absolutely stayed. So now she had to rephrase things on the fly because who knows who might be listening in. "Hey, it's on the news that the Justice League is showing up in Vegas; something about investigating something magical showing up."

"Uh-huh, that's not a surprise. There was some magic ninny flying in a panic earlier. I decided it wasn't my business."

"I hadn't heard that," -bullshit, she just hadn't double-checked that herself yet- "but what I did hear that some cult might have succeeded in bringing something over."

"Uh-huh. Well, no one's praying to Cthulu yet, there's been no troublemaking beyond the usual human malice and nothing's on fire."

"We were just concer-" And Jason hung up on Oracle.

He'd pay for that later, but petty was satisfying now.

"Sounded important."

"Was bullshit."

"So an entity summoned by a cult that tripped a bunch of magicians into a tizzy-"

Yeah, those sharp ears were not for show. Enhanced hearing check. "That's a bunch of incompetents panicking." Time for his good guess to hit or miss. "You're not going to decide to destroy Vegas, are you?"

"Done it before, doing it again seems pointlessly petty." Statements Jason wasn't going to prod further right now.

"And what if Wisconson University loses?"

"Might flip the table." Dan shrugged.

"More beer?" Jason asked.

"Sure."

#dc x dp #Jason Todd #Dan Phantom

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quintessenceofdust88 · 2 days ago

Text

Little Blobs

Hey everyone!! I bring you a new chapter of Little Blobs on this fine Wednesday. From here on, I intend to follow a more logical timeline lol and we'll get to see how Buck's pregnancy progresses from the very start. I hope you enjoy it <3

“What's got you pouting so early in the morning, Buckaroo?"

Hen’s voice, paired with the smell of fresh coffee, manages to snap Buck out of his mind. He accepts the mug she’s placing in front of him automatically, but he didn’t drink it; he’s too nauseous. Or too guilty. Or both.

You see, there’s a reason why everybody calls Buck a human golden retriever. It was usually so rare for him to be in a mood, but lately... He’s so often tired, and so often nauseous, that it’s been hard to keep his spirits up. Like that morning with Tommy.

Even though they’ve been together for eighteen months, it was a rare occurrence for their shifts to align so perfectly that they could get ready for work together in the morning. Usually, those moments would make Buck giddy with the domesticity of it all. Not today, apparently.

From the minute he woke up, Buck had just been off, feeling tired and nauseous and out of sorts. And for no reason at all, he simply snapped at Tommy for the leftover fruit he had left in the blender (which, sure, could be a little annoying, but not *that* annoying). Buck knew right away that his "Damn, Tommy, how hard is it to keep things clean?! It's like living in a frat house again!" had been uncalled for.

Tommy had looked at him in surprise, muttered a "Sorry, Evan" and turned his back to Buck, apparently laser-focused on washing the blender. Buck knew right then that he should apologize, but he was still too pissy to do it, and their goodbyes had been frosty when they left for their respective stations.

And that's how Hen finds him, staring at the void and wondering if he should text Tommy and let him know how sorry he is or wait to do it in person once their 48-hour shifts are over.

Before Buck knows it, he’s spilling out to Hen, kind of expecting her to call him out for being an idiot to his husband, but instead, Hen hums thoughtfully.

"Yeah, I can't help but notice you *have* been moody lately, Buck. Far too moody for a newlywed, if you ask me" She teases lightly, and Buck gives her a half-hearted smile.

"I promise you, Tommy’s not the problem” He reassures her. “He’s not even complaining about my bitchiness and the fact I have slept on top of him every single time we've sat to watch a movie together for the last three weeks"

"Wait, you?!" Hen asks, her eyebrows going up. "Evan 'ball of energy' Buckley..."

"Buckley-Kinard" He corrects eagerly, his smile widening despite himself at that.

"My bad" Hen chuckles. "Evan 'ball of energy' Buckley-Kinard, falling asleep during movie nights? Aren’t you the one who’s usually researching fun facts and talking a mile a minute, instead of letting people actually listen to what’s going on?"

"Yeah!" Buck agrees, nodding enthusiastically, not even a little self-conscious; Tommy says his ramblings are cute. "But lately, I don't know, I... I thought maybe I was tired from wedding planning, but it’s been a month since we got married. I don’t know what’s going on, Hen"

"Hey, you two!" Bobby's voice interrupts whatever it is Hen planned to say. “Breakfast is about ready, wanna join the rest of us?”

And Buck intends to, truly he does. But the minute he approaches the kitchen and the smell of Bobby’s frittata reaches his nose, he can’t. The nausea that bubbles up in his stomach is too strong to ignore, and he finds himself rushing to the bathroom.

By the time he comes back, Bobby is waiting for him with worried eyes and a glass of ice cold water, that Buck gratefully sips slowly.

“Alright there, Buck?” He asks, and Buck nods sheepishly, not liking the way everyone’s looking at him as if he’d keel at any moment.

“Fine, Cap. Sorry about that. Think I caught a stomach bug or something” He mutters, still sipping his water, and Hen looks as if she’s about to add something when the bell rings.

They don’t get a chance to sit down and talk again, not in private anyway, but Buck feels Hen’s gaze landing upon him all through their 48-hour shift. It’s especially sharp when he falls asleep in the middle of the afternoon and when he barely touches Bobby’s meatloaf at dinner.

It’s a look that Hen has when she feels someone’s being particularly dense, and Buck’s not completely sure what he’s done to deserve it this time, other than being overly snappy and tired. By the time their shift is over, he’s more than ready to go home, wait for Tommy (he had sent an apology text that morning after all, and Tommy’s easy forgiveness had almost made him cry. And just about half an hour ago, Tommy texted that he was caught on a call and would probably be late, which almost made him cry again) and sleep for the next 12 hours.

Before he can leave, though, Hen’s voice calls from inside the station.

“Buck, wait!” She says, approaching him with a small paper bag in her hands.

“What’s that you got there, Hen? Don’t tell me you’ve gotten me a present” He teases her, and Hen looks uncertain.

“Well” She says carefully. “It all depends on how you’ll see things. And maybe I’m wrong anyway, but. I think you should take these”

She hands him the bag, and Buck opens it up to see three different brands of pregnancy tests inside. He widens his eyes, looking from the bag to Hen, and she’s looking expectantly at him.

“Hen, you don’t think I’m…” Buck can’t even say it; the possibility had never crossed his mind, and yet… It feels like his brain is short-circuiting as he revisits his latest symptoms in his mind.

“Well, why not? You are a carrier, aren’t you? You told me that when you were debating if you could be a surrogate to your friends” She says, and Buck nods dumbly. “And, well, I know you and Tommy get… busy with each other very often.”

“We…Well, yeah, but I take birth control” Buck says, frantically recalling the last few weeks in his mind and wondering if he could’ve forgotten to take the pill at some point. And then it dawns on him how frantic their wedding day had been, and yeah, he doesn’t remember taking it on that day. Or the day after. Or during their weekend honeymoon in San Diego (they had been… busy, as Hen would put it). “Oh, fuck, Hen, what if I’m pregnant?! I can’t be pregnant right now, it’s not the plan!”

“Buckaroo, I don’t know what the plan is, but life doesn’t tend to care for it. Maybe you’re not; I’m just saying it’s a possibility and you should check it” Hen says placatingly. “If it’s positive, you and Tommy will figure it out; if it’s negative, you owe me 30 bucks for the tests”

“There’s only one of me” He jokes automatically, but his mind is nowhere near it. “T-thanks anyway, Hen. I… I’ll take those as soon as I’m home” Before Tommy arrives, he decides; there’s no reason to get his husband worked up over nothing if they’re negative. And if they’re positive, Buck has some time to decide on how to tell him.

“You’re welcome, Buckaroo. When you have the results and are ready to share, let me know, ok? Good luck!”

She’s gone before Buck can ask if good luck means positive or negative. He’s not sure he knows what he wishes for right now.

Tommy turns off the engine in his truck, content to see Evan’s Jeep already in the garage. Content but not surprised, considering he got caught up in a search and rescue and is two hours late. He has a strong suspicion his husband’s been catching up on some sleep during those hours, because he hasn’t answered Tommy’s text asking what he wanted for dinner; he had gone with pizza as a safe bet, though Evan’s appetite had been all over the place lately. Tommy knows that the younger man can be stubborn about his health, but he will drag him to a doctor if he isn’t better by the weekend.

He tries to enter home without making much noise, putting the pizzas on the kitchen table. Evan’s not at the kitchen or living room, and the house is completely silent. Tommy makes his way to their bedroom, ready to gently wake Evan up so he can get some food in him before they go to bed for the night; they probably won’t get up to anything fun tonight, both of them exhausted from their shifts, but if Tommy has anything to say about it, they’ll spend the next 24 hours in their bed making up for it.

But when he gets to their bedroom, he’s surprised by an empty and still made bed, and no husband in sight. Tommy frowns, starting to worry.

“Evan?!” He calls.

“I’m in here…” Evan answers, his voice coming from the en-suite bathroom that Tommy hadn’t even noticed was with the door ajar. Something in Evan’s voice makes Tommy rush to it, and he opens the door to find his husband sitting on the floor; he looks up at him with dazed eyes, his fist tightly clutched around something Tommy can’t see.

“Babe, are you okay?! Was it your stomach again?” Tommy asks, kneeling down by his side and automatically raising his hand to feel Evan’s forehead; it’s not hot, and when he gently takes Tommy’s hand in his free one, Tommy sees it’s cold and sweaty. To his horror, he can also see tears pooling up in Evan’s eyes. “Did something happen, Evan?”

Evan laughs somewhat hysterically at that, which doesn’t help with Tommy’s nerves at all. Then he nods, caressing Tommy’s hand with his thumb, making gentle circles.

“Y-yeah, something happened. I… I figured out why I snapped at you the other day” He says, his voice thick, and Tommy lets out a sigh of relief.

“Sweetheart, I can’t believe you’re still thinking about that. It was nothing, I already said I…” He doesn’t get to finish the sentence, though, because Evan is opening Tommy’s hand and pressing the three plastic sticks that he was so tightly holding against it.

Tommy looks down at them with a frown, and his heart skips a beat when he realizes what they are: pregnancy tests. Two of them show two lines and, even if Tommy didn’t know what that means (he does; he absolutely does), the third one is a fancy digital kind that has the word in bold letters: PREGNANT.

He looks from the tests to Evan, his mouth agape, and his husband’s looking back at him with expectant blue eyes and the tiniest hint of a frown between his eyebrows.

“I… On the wedding frenzy I guess I forgot to take my pill” He says, and he takes Tommy’s stunned silence as a cue to continue. “I… I know it’s not the plan, I know we said we’d wait at least a year before kids, I…”

Tommy can’t take it anymore; in a move that has become signature by now, he grabs his chin and presses a gentle soft kiss against his mouth. When the kiss is done, Evan is the one left agape, while Tommy can’t stop a smile from widening across his face.

“Fuck the plan, Evan. Are you happy?” He asks earnestly; Tommy knows he is, and the more it dawns on him, the happier he gets. But it’s Evan’s body and Tommy knows he’s much more of a planner than himself, so he’ll rein in the excitement if Evan needs to process this differently.

But to his relief, Evan gives him that adorable crooked smile, looking down at the tests Tommy’s holding, and then at his own belly, then back at Tommy with eyes full of joy.

“Yeah, I’m happy. I’m fucking thrilled, Tommy. We’re having a baby!” He says, as it’s just dawning on him, and hearing him say it out loud makes it dawn on Tommy too.

They smile at each other like two idiots, and before Tommy knows it, he’s helping Evan up and pulling him in a tight hug, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. He lets out a delighted laugh, feeling happier than he’s ever felt before, except maybe for their wedding day.

“We’re having a baby, oh my God, that’s incredible. You’re incredible” He says, resting his chin on Evan’s shoulder, and then with a dawning sense of realization, he steps back, looking at him worriedly. “Oh my God, are you okay?! Is the baby okay? Can you tell if they’re okay?! Damn we need to schedule a doctor’s appointment, and probably start thinking about a nursery, and you have to talk to Bobby and…”

“Babe” Evan interrupts him, sounding way too amused (Tommy’s not often the one to freak out between the two) as he puts both his hand in Tommy’s face, effectively shutting him up. “I’m sure the baby’s fine. I’ll talk to Bobby on my next shift, and we can figure out everything else tomorrow. Okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re making sense” Tommy easily agrees, nodding and looking at Evan with a scrutinizing gaze. “Are you okay, though, Evan? What do you need?”

“I’m fine, Tommy” He says, his voice sounding between exasperated and amused, but Tommy doesn’t care if he’s being overbearing. Evan is the most precious person in the world to him, and now he’s carrying the other most precious person in the world to him. Tommy will do anything for him. “What I need is food. I’m finally not feeling nauseous and I wanna take advantage of it while it lasts. Please tell me you brought dinner?”

“You didn’t answer me, so I brought pizza. But if you want anything else, anything else, I’ll go and get it in fifteen minutes max. Just name it, babe” Tommy offers, and Evan smiles bashfully, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Pizza is more than fine, but I might make use of this generosity at some point in the next nine months” He says, and Tommy knows it’s meant like a tease, but if anything, it sounds like a promise.

“Anytime you want” He says, and then his hand goes straight to Evan’s still flat belly. He can’t see or feel anything, but knowing their little one is there is enough to fill his heart for now. “For you two, anything, anytime”

“Hey” Evan says, putting his own hand on top of Tommy’s, his smile bright enough to outshine the Sun itself. “I love you”

“I love you too, Evan”

–

A smile spreads across her face, and she sends back a congrats, daddies!! before deleting both messages. Karen has full access to her phone and her to Karen’s, and she knows her wife can’t keep a secret for her life, so she won’t take any chances. But God is she happy for those two.

When Hen’s cellphone dings, she’s about to go to bed; after coming home from their 48-hour shift, she had helped Karen with the kids’ nightly routine and the two of them had spent some time together watching TV and drinking wine after tucking them in. Now she’s pleasantly sleepy and ready to enjoy a good night of sleep and then three whole blessed days off.

And yet, her conversation with Buck has been on the back of her mind all day. When Hen sees the message she got is from him, it’s with eager hands that she unlocks her phone and opens their thread. There’s only two emojis and five words looking back at her: 👶🏻👍🏻 but don’t tell anyone yet!

One thing Hen knows: they’re going to be wonderful fathers.

[More from Little Blobs Verse]

Tag list: (let me know if you'd like to be removed or if I missed anyone! Also if anyone else wants to be tagged, either on my fics in general or just the Little Blobs' Verse, let me know! ♥)

@bidisasterevankinard @unhingedangstaddict @silversky9 @music-is-the-voice-of-the-soul @asmugfirefighter @rubydaiquiri @racerchix21 @actuallyitsellie

#bucktommy #little blobs verse #tommy kinard #evan buckley #mpreg #mpreg evan buckley #pregnant buck #fluff #2.600 words

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didalexiabreakupwitholgaisback · 2 days ago

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Hi, this is non-Barca related, but did you see that Barbra Banda won the BBC Women's Footballer of the year award and then all the evil men in the UK press came after her and that evil woman JK Rowling had to chime in?? It's so ridiculous that in 2024 our women athletes still have to go through all this! https://x.com/jk_rowling/status/1861449157564592425?

hi anon - yes, i did see this and two points:

let's call this what is really is and that's racism (and if they really cared about protecting women, why is zambia's coach still around?)

transphobia hurts everyone

this nonsense has been going on for ages and targeting almost exclusively black and brown women, like the cases (if you are all old enough to remember!) of the south african runner, caster semenya and more recently imane khelif during this summer's olympics in paris. when in reality they are simply phenomenal athletes and should be treated as such. 😤

as for barbra banda, here's a fun anecdote and the moral of the story because she had an amazing breakout year and deserves her flowers. in 2022, banda was supposed to join real madrid. but it fell through because real madrid are bigots and cowards and rejected her signing due to a supposedly failed gender test.

well, that just goes to show that the universe is working in her favour because with that rejection of that cursed club, banda went on be signed with a massive transfer fee and multi-million dollar deal to the nwsl's orlando pride, where they just won the shield and championship and she was named mvp. so who's laughing now? let's all enjoy this sweet moment when she got her award.

source: bbcsport on twitter

let's talk about the role of the press and that transphobe jk rowling (who belongs with all the other transphobes and incels on l chat tbh) that do more to harm women's football than anything else. none of these assholes give a shit about women's football, but now they are acting like experts. what's frustrating is when other media outlets amplify the voices of these idiots because they should know better?in any case, they better get their solicitors ready when banda sues them for every pound they have! 😤

finally, one of my friends recommended a book that i finally got around to reading last month from an american journalist called "fair play: how sports shape the gender debate" by katie barnes. it's very good and tackles many of the issues we have discussed including the inaccuracy and dubiousness of all these gender verification tests. 🙏

#barbra banda #imane khelif #caster semenya #transphobia #jk rowling #orlando pride #nwsl #futfem #woso #real madrid femenino

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himluv · 2 days ago

Text

Dark, Complex, and Intriguing

Would anyone like some more Lucanis right before the holiday?

The cot creaked as Lucanis settled onto it with a sigh. He loosened his collar, unpinning his crow-head lapel chains, and leaned back to rest against the wall. He could not remember the last time he'd felt so relaxed.

Despite everything, he was alive and free. Treviso might be occupied by the Antaam, but it had not lost its spirit nor its charm. The markets were as vibrant as he remembered, though there were differences. He just couldn't tell if the city had changed, or if the difference lie with him.

Perhaps a little of both.

But Café Pietra had not changed. The atmosphere was impeccable, both intimate and lively, a bastion for coffee enthusiasts like himself. And the Andoral's Breath was just as good as he remembered.

He could have wept at the aroma alone. For a moment there, he almost had. It all hit him at once, in those split seconds before that first sip. He was alive. Treviso was still there. And he was about to drink his favorite coffee, one that mere days ago he had believed he would never taste again.

If he'd been alone, in private, he would have let the relieved tears fall. But Rook was there, quietly sipping her own cup of Andoral's Breath. Lucanis had been flattered that she took his suggestion, and even more pleased that she'd seemed to appreciate the brew almost as much as he did.

And then their conversation had spiraled into strange territory, about first kisses. He stood by his statement, first kisses were like honey and lavender cream. Things were always sweetest when they were new and so full of potential.

But Rook's answer was a good one. Each kiss is different. She'd sounded so sure, and so sure that he understood her meaning. That he shared that experience.

Nothing could be further from the truth. He barely knew anything about first kisses, and he only knew of kisses goodbye from the novels he'd read. Romance just wasn't a part of his life. Mainly because his life had never really been his.

So he'd changed the subject. And when asked about her coffee, she’d described it as dark, complex, and intriguing. Which could describe Andoral's Breath…

His eyes snapped open with realization. “Mierda, I'm an idiot.” Rook hadn't been talking about coffee at all. All that talk about kisses and then she says that?

Was Rook… flirting with him?

No, Spite said. Not possible. Why would Rook. Want. You?

A perfectly legitimate question to which Lucanis had no answer. But, he knew just who to ask.

The next morning, Lucanis went to visit Bellara. When he entered her quarters, Neve was there, the two of them chatting about some new scandal in the Tevinter papers.

“Oh, hey, Lucanis,” Bellara said.

He panicked. Talking to Bellara about this was stressful enough. He couldn't have this conversation in front of Neve, too.

“I'm interrupting,” he said. “I'll come back later.”

The women shared a look he could not interpret, but seemed to come to an understanding.

“I was just leaving,” Neve said, which was obviously a lie. “I'll talk to you later, Bel?”

Bellara smiled. “Sounds good, Neve!”

Lucanis listened to the detective go, and waited for the door to close to look at Bellara.

She frowned. “Is everything okay? You're acting strange. Is Spite acting up again?”

Not me. Not this time.

“No,” Lucanis said. “Spite is fine, for the moment.”

“Oh, well, good!”

Lucanis stood in the center of the room and tried to think of what to say. But everywhere he looked his reflection stared back from too many mirrors and he couldn’t think.

Glinting and golden. Trinkets for the tinkerer, Spite mused.

“Sooooo, what did you want to talk about?” Bellara perched on her workbench, swinging her feet like he and Illario used to do on the rooftops as boys. The familiar motion helped him settle.

“You and Rook are friends, right?”

She nodded. “Oh, sure. I mean, we've been Veil Jumpers together for a couple of years now. Although we didn't see each other much after she left to help Varric.”

“But, you are close? You… understand her?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess.” She laughed. “Lucanis, what is this about?”

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “We went to meet Illario at Cafe Pietra last night—”

“—oh, yeah! She said she had a great time.”

“She…” he blinked at Bellara. “She did?”

Rook talked. About you? Spite bounced between Lucanis and Bellara, curious and agitated. Why?

She nodded, her earring jangling with the motion. “Mm-hm! She said the coffee was super good.”

“Of course it was,” he said. He crossed his arms over his chest. “What else did she say?”

“Um, nothing really. Just that she liked it and it seemed like you had a good time. She said it seemed good for you to go.”

“I did,” he said. “And it was.”

“That's great!” Bellara smiled at him. Then her brow furrowed. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“Yes,” he said. “and, no.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mierda, I feel so stupid.”

Stupid, Spite sang. Stupid stupid stupid!

“You're not stupid, Lucanis,” Bellara said. “What's going on?”

So, he explained it. His whole conversation with Rook, nearly beat for beat.

“I've thought about this too much,” he said, shaking his head. “I can't believe I thought she was flirting with me.”

Bellara laughed. “Oh, she was definitely flirting with you.”

WHAT?

“What?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Which for her is pretty smooth. I wonder if she was inspired by the coffee or…?” She stopped when she noticed his dumbstruck expression.

“Oh, is it unwanted? I can tell her to stop—”

He put a hand up to interrupt her. “No! No, thank you, Bellara. I can handle it.”

“Okay,” she said. She chewed on her lip, and a little crease in her brow gave him pause.

“What is it?”

“Just, if you're going to turn her down, maybe…” she winced. “Do it gently?”

He raised a brow at her.

“I don't want to get into it, but her last relationship ended pretty badly, so, you know…” Bellara blushed, as if she knew she shouldn't have said anything.

Her last relationship… how many had Rook had? How far behind was he? Not that it mattered, because he was not going to pursue this. He didn't do romance.

Still, he gave Bellara a soft smile. “I'll take that into consideration,” he said. “Thank you, Bellara.”

“Anytime,” she said.

He headed for the door, but paused as Bellara called after him.

“And, Lucanis?”

“Hmm?”

“Maybe try to get some sleep?”

He nodded. “Maybe,” he said, then stepped back out into the courtyard.

Back in his room, Lucanis lay on his cot and tried not to think. Bellara was right. The lack of sleep had left him frayed, which made him more likely to overthink and analyze every interaction.

Rook had flirted with him, and he'd been utterly clueless in the moment. Were there other times she'd said something he'd misunderstood? How oblivious was he?

But the biggest question he kept repeating was, so what?

Rook flirted with him. So what? She seemed kind and like she genuinely cared about his well-being. So what? She rescued him from the Ossuary. So what? She wasn't afraid of Spite. So what?

Did any of that actually matter? Lucanis wasn't even sure he wanted her affections. He had so much else to think about— Treviso, Caterina’s funeral, his vengeance against Zara, and, of course, Spite. And, he couldn't forget this contract. He had gods in need of killing.

It was too much. There wasn't room in his head to discern if he even liked Rook, let alone what to do if he did. And he was so, so tired.

Luckily, a year in the Ossuary had made Lucanis good at shutting down his thoughts and feelings. He just needed to breathe and be still. Spite, however, was less skilled.

The demon prowled the pantry, muttering just loud enough he was sure Lucanis wouldn't be able to ignore him.

Rook. Likes. You? He spat. Why? Rook is smart. Nice. Fun. Spite glared at Lucanis. Not like youuuu.

There was a pause as Spite waited for Lucanis to reply, but he said nothing. He didn't even look at the demon. He was trying to sleep.

Yesssssss. Sleep! Then I find Rook! Spite's grin always looked threatening, but this one was a little too unhinged. Ask what she sees in YOU.

Lucanis ignored the way his chest tightened at the thought of Spite controlling his body while he and Rook were alone. He could not let that happen.

“She's not here,” he said. “She left with Harding early this morning.”

Spite growled in frustration. We. Want. OUT!

This argument again. Until he found some way to separate them, he didn't think Spite could get anymore “out”. This was as good as the demon would get.

No. No no no. We. Made. A. DEAL.

With a sigh, Lucanis sat up and rested his head against the wall. “We'll go to Treviso later,” he said. “I need more spices anyway.”

Spite growled, but it was a low sound, one of resignation. Fine.

Lucanis smiled. A lifetime with Illario had prepared him well for dealing with this demon. When they threw fits for not getting what they wanted, you gave them something else they wanted. Something smaller, easier to manage.

Spite liked the markets almost as much as Lucanis did. It was a simple thing to offer a visit, something that would be pleasant for them both.

With the demon settled, a fresh wave of exhaustion washed over Lucanis, and he fell asleep there, propped against the wall.

In the dining hall, the door opened, the groan of its hinges pulling Lucanis from his sleep. He checked the candles, but they still burned high and bright. He hadn't slept long.

Footsteps drew closer, the muffled slap of bare feet on the stone floor. So, Rook was back.

He ignored the pleasant churn in his stomach. She wasn't coming to see him, she was probably just hungry.

But then his door opened and she peered inside. “Hey Lucanis,” she said. “ Got a minute?” Her face was bright from exertion, or perhaps too much sun reflected off water. Of course she and Harding would spend the morning outdoors. They were both too pale for so much unfiltered daylight. It made the freckles scattered across the bridge of Rook’s nose look like sprinkles of cinnamon on latte foam.

His stomach did another traitorous flip.

“Of course,” he said.

She smiled, ducked out of the room, then reappeared with a silver and purple tea set. “Um,” she said. “I, uh, got this. For you.”

He stared for a moment, eyes wide and mouth agape. “For me?”

She smiled. “Yeah. I know it's meant for tea, but I figured you could use it for coffee.” She shrugged. “You know, so you can keep it close?”

He took it from her and set it on the side table nearest his cot. First the wyvern-tooth dagger, and now this? If he'd had any doubts about her interest, they were gone now.

“Thank you, Rook,” he said. “That's very thoughtful.” Lucanis was genuinely touched by the gesture. It was a lovely set, one he recalled seeing in the market the night before. Had she gone back for it today?

“I'm glad you like it,” she said, her smile widening. This close, in the candlelight, Lucanis noticed the violet tinge to her blue-grey eyes. The color reminded him of the innermost petals of the crystal grace in Villa Dellamorte's gardens. Delicate and pale, and so soft to the touch.

“Well,” she said, breaking the silence. “I'll, uh, see you at dinner?”

Lucanis cleared his throat and looked back at the tea set. “Of course. I'll see you then.”

He didn't look at her as she left the room. He didn't want her to see the confusion he felt reflected in his eyes.

Trouble, Spite said.

And for once, he and Lucanis agreed. Because, as rare as it was for him, Lucanis couldn't deny the way his stomach flipped when he thought of her. Or how flustered he felt when they stood too close. How the air warmed when she walked in the room and how easy she made it to smile.

He groaned and rubbed his face with both hands. Maker help him, he was falling for Rook.

#lucanis dellamorte #veilguard spoilers #dav spoilers #datv spoilers #da4 spoilers #himluv's writing tag

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the-mandawhor1an · 2 days ago

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It's wednesday my dudes

What do you mean it's wednesday again? (thanks @beefrobeefcal for tagging me and therefore kicking my ass to write 💜💜💜)

Well...

I've been a little busy in the last days, as some might have realized (who am I kidding here)

Yesterday was my rp anniversary and I'll be at Comic Con on saturday and still tweaking shit on my costume (yes you will get pics!) and the end of the month is approaching, which means chapter 9 is due

I'm doing my best to get it done by saturday. I'm at 8k words right now, two scenes are still missing. (Maybe I'm scratching one of the scenes for the sake of getting it done in time, we'll see)

It might end up being more than 10k of 'Din being an idiot in love and not realizing'. The yearning is there. Here's a little snippet:

»Can I ask you something?« he hesitantly asked. Now that he had the chance, he didn’t want it to go to waste. »You just did,« she smirked. »Go ahead.« »Is it true that Jedi have to live by strict rules?« He felt his heart rate pick up. Maia had mentioned a few things about why she didn’t want to be part of the order, had it still existed. »What rules are you referring to specifically?« He took a deep breath. »No attachments, neither possessions nor relationships are allowed. As a Mandalorian, I fail to see how loyalty to someone can be seen as bad.«

Stay tuned! I'm working on it with all the energy and time I can spare QwQ

Worth mentioning here: Marcus A. isn't forgotten, I just want to put the long fic as my top priority.

Taglist: @jennaispunk @whocaresstillthelouvre @burntheedges @rivnedell @roughdaysandart

@djarins-wife

» Click here to be added to the tag list «

Npt for the moots: @mountainsandmayhem @sizzlingcloudmentality @joelmillerspillowprincess @pedgito @burntheedges

@whocaresstillthelouvre @rivnedell @jksprincess10 @morallyinept @clawdee

@studioghibelli @evolnoomym @jennaispunk @penvisions @beefrobeefcal

@guiltyasdave @pedrospatch @mrsmando @djarins-cyare @djarins-wife

#wolkes wips #wip wednesday #din djarin #marcus acacius #the mandalorian #pedro boys #gbtscbtf #pedro pascal character fanfic #wolke schreibt #pedro pascal characters

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melmedarda · 2 days ago

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I’m sorry to jump in your inbox with that long af rant, but I’ve been lurking and loving every Meljay post of yours since day one and I need to scream in the void.

I’m inconsolable over how bad the writing of acts 2 and 3 was, it literally feels like it was written by a completely different team. What even was that conversation, it sounded like they asked ChatGPT to write a scene based on top 50 tweets about Mel and Jayce after 1x05 aired back in the days.

I’ve never in 15 years seen a ship so cruelly ruined, because how are people supposed to continue at all tolerating Jayce with that idiotically out of character dialogue in 2x08 between him and Mel? What a fucking bad way to treat fans, having them invested all the way until literally the last moment, it already was bad with how the majority of people (fandom, reactors, obviously the artists too) were “interpreting” Mel (if you can even call it that, cause interpretation requires media literacy), but now they have left us so burnt that I'm betting there aren’t even going to be fix-it fics because they. Just. Ruined. Jayce, so bad. And I still love the well written (still flawed tho!) Jayce from 3x01 (setting up a way more natural conflict-to-be-resolved path when he made those weapons five minutes after Mel vowed to protect his dream), but damn, I love Mel so much more, I really don’t know how to cope with all that. Only people who’ve had the luck to not have been treated as that husk of an AU Jayckass treated our girl can’t see the amount of PTSD that scene can trigger in a woman. I am so frustrated with how the creators treated her trauma and slashed the wounds wide open with both that and “You are the wolf”, I genuinely don’t know how to cope.

And the worst part is all of this could have been resolved with a single touch and him being open to her – like he always have been – just tell her he’s doomed instead of showing us a highly specific and unrelated two frames of the voidy-looking infection on his forearm spreading every time he is on screen. Even if that is one of their “yes we meant that all along we just wanted to show not tell it” like with the whole idiotic Sky/Viktor backstory that Overton “spilled” the other day. Jayce has been able to see through Mel’s shields the moment he saw her painting and was always shown to admire her intellectual prowess, he’d never leave her hanging like that.

If they wanted to write a Shakespearean tragedy so bad they made this intro scream “look at us, we gave you Greek last time, now it’s all about good ol’ Billy” why not have Jayce make the same impossible choice (as they brilliantly and am starting to think accidentally?) made Silco do in 1x09, having him choose between his love for Zaun and his love for Jinx, drawing one final parallel between the two men and closing that loop with Jayce/Silco carrying Viktor’s/Jinx’s body and infusing them with the deus ex machina. It was right there staring them at their faces, have Jayce choose between his love for Mel and his love for his brother.

What a spectacular failure of writing, what an even more monumental failure of the artists to come out with those comments, so now I don’t even want to praise their talent, because they should have kept their mouths fucking shut and stuck to drawing.

Sorry to dump this in your ask, can you tell I’m still reeling.

Please, please, do you have any headcanons, I need crumbs, I need to heal my soul and Mel’s.

Lovely anon you've but into words what all Meljay fans are feeling, I think. I cannot lie, I've been trying to let go of the ship. Withdraw sort of, especially since that was the ending we got. But I've had them for three years, and they've sunk their claws too deeply to me. I'm still thinking of them even now. I'm going to make the most of their divorce era, and I'm going to make them return to each other in ever single AU ever. Because Arcane S2 act #3 is not my Meljay. Also, AU Jayckass had me bursting out in laughter!

On the topic of headcanons. I have one in which when Vik tells Jayce to go back, Jayce does. He returns to Piltover but too much time has past, Mel has already burned his name and departed across the waters to Rokrund. Jayce knows he's done her wrong, realizes he's been blinded, and he does his best to atone in Piltover and Zaun, writing letters to Mel. Letters that go unanswered. And then eventually, he goes to Rokrund, and finds a different woman, one stronger and colder than he had known. He loves her anyways, and spends his years winning her back. And when he has groveled sufficiently, Mel takes him back. He sort of grounds her, so that she does not remain the wolf all the time. So that she does not become her mother.

#asks #meljay #onlymeljay #goldenforge

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healingfairy000000001 · 2 days ago

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Trafalgar law x witch! straw hat (part 6) ---------------------------------------

"Another day, another spell! Or maybe not, because today is my break!" she thought excitedly as she walked around the dock. It seemed Law hadn't woken up yet, but neither had the crew! Except for Sanji and Brook, who always woke up at that time.

Sanji was cooking breakfast skillfully while Brook enjoyed a good cup of coffee. "MORNING!" Y/N greeted, stepping in to join them.

"Y/N-chwaaannn~ How grateful I am that you blessed me today!" swooned Sanji, while Brook returned the salute casually.

"Need help?" she asked Sanji, coming closer to the cutting board.

"No need! You must be tired from night guard duty," he replied, declining the offer but returning to his cooking as he casually asked about last night.

"Nah! I don't feel tired at all!" she answered cheerfully, sitting close to Brook.

"Yohohoho~ You never seem to be sleepy!" chimed Brook.

"And you'll never catch me slipping!" she said with a small, shared laugh, and the atmosphere returned to its usual comfort. Sanji continued to cook, Brook drank his coffee while thinking of his next tune, and Y/N read a book without a title.

It was peaceful, and soon, everyone started coming in, waking up from their slumber.

"Hey! Where’s Tragu?" asked Luffy, after munching on some breakfast. Nami and Robin turned to Y/N, prompting everyone to do the same.

"He's probably still asleep," she stated calmly.

Zoro looked at her from the side before going back to his food.

"That's not fair! Why does he get to sleep?" protested Luffy.

"That's true! He needs to at least wake up on time!" added Usopp

"What's with the commotion so early in the morning?" Law said as he entered, and all eyes turned to him. Some smiled, while others quickly returned to what they were doing. Luffy and Usopp, however, decided to tell him what the commotion was about.

"How dare you not wake up on time!" "Yeah! How dare you!"

The man in question didn't change his expression as he sat down for a cup of black coffee, ignoring the two idiots.

With an angry look, Usopp demanded one more answer, "And where were you yesterday? You didn’t sleep in the men’s quarters nor on the ship's deck!"

Now that caught everyone’s attention. "Where was he?" Everyone focused on Law, waiting for an answer. His response was simple: "Asleep."

Everyone’s faces fell to the floor. Was it the answer they wanted? No. Did it help? Maybe. But thanks to Nami bringing good news to change the subject, the situation was saved.

"We’re getting closer to an island!" she showed her compass, causing Luffy and Usopp to quickly leave Law alone.

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

As the Thousand Sunny docked, the summer island appeared abandoned, with overgrown trees and missing a port or road. It looked completely deserted. The crew decided to spend the day exploring or swimming.

"Not leaving?" asked the witch.

"Don’t feel like it," Law answered, leaning against the mast with his katana close by, his hat covering his face.

Hearing this, she sighed and rolled her eyes before walking away. "Oh! That should be obvious, but don’t touch anything in my lab."

He ignored her, giving her a side-eye. She jumped off the ship and caught up to Nami and Robin.

"Nami! Robin, wait up!" she shouted, catching up to them. "I believe we haven’t spent much time together lately."

The two women looked at each other and smiled. "Well, I am going to draw the island’s map," said Nami. "And I am accompanying Chopper to find some medical herbs," added Robin.

Nami's option wasn’t as tempting as collecting ingredients with the adorable doctor and the archaeologist, so the decision was clear. "Let's get to collecting! Nami, I'll join you in the afternoon!" Y/N exclaimed excitedly, throwing her fist in the air.

Nami shook her head and waved them off, preparing her tools to draw the map. Chopper got his bag, and Robin chuckled as she walked alongside the two into the heavy forest.

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

The forest was thick with branches and hanging vines, heavy with humidity, which excited the doctor and the sorcerer for the amount of plants around them—wildflowers, mushrooms, weeds, various berries, and animals.

The two had a blast finding and comparing the uses of certain herbs in their fields.

"This is useful for painkillers!" exclaimed Chopper, showing her a leaf. "It can be used to create ink for scrolls!" she answered. "It was a plant used in human sacrifices," added Robin.

Which understandably creeped Chopper out, but the conversation didn’t end there. "For real? To harvest their souls for dark magic?" "Usually it’s to please a god or bring fortune and get rid of illnesses." "Huh."

"Can we change the subject?" pleaded Chopper, looking at the two women like the subject at hand was a normal thing.

Deciding to continue, the conversation died down as the three continued the herb hunt, until...

The forest grew colder and less crowded with trees. Even the animals became scarce. That’s when they reached an abandoned town. Doors were torn down, windows were broken, and everything reeked of death.

Chopper hid behind Robin while Robin and Y/N got on guard, ready to fight at any moment. "We should head back," said Chopper, but it seemed only Robin heard. "Y/N?" But she didn’t respond, walking to the side of a house and inspecting its wall, which was covered in grayish, wall-climbing plants. Tearing them down revealed... a strange symbol.

"This is bad news," she muttered.

Cawww!

"We have to leave! The crow is warning us!" yelled Chopper, but it was too late. Blackened arrows were shot at them from the sky. Robin grabbed Chopper, shielding him with her body.

"Not a second time," whispered Y/N. "ARIELA!" she shouted as a purple shield engulfed the three of them, protecting them.

"A witch! Our lucky day!" The culprits, a group of people with ragged clothes and bone-like physiques, emerged from their hiding spots. "We can satisfy our goddess!"

"Nerocta evera aarota!" she casted another spell, this time conjuring a strong wind that blew the attackers back. The leader quickly formed a shield of his own, filled with horrified faces. "Shit!"

"Robin, Chopper, RUN!" she shouted, dissolving the shield.

The two nodded, though hesitant, understanding that returning to the others was in their best interest. Chopper shifted into his running form to save time.

"Catch them!" three of the attackers jumped forward at their leader's command, but were stopped by a rock wall slamming into them, taking them out.

"Come on, then," Y/N muttered, her fingers crackling with mana. "Show me what you’ve got."

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

On the other side, things were more peaceful. Sanji returned with some fruits and vegetables, Zoro had hunted down some animals, and the rest were either resting on the beach or waiting for Franky's infamous 'SUPER BURGER!'

Nothing could disturb their peace��until Robin and Chopper showed up, barely catching their breath. The crew immediately got guarded, and Nami and Luffy rushed toward them.

"What's wrong?" asked Luffy, worried. "Where’s Y/N?" added Nami.

That's when Robin spoke up. "Magicians! A lot of them!"

With this new information, the crew exchanged looks. Zoro, Sanji, Luffy, a reluctant Usopp, and Nami decided to go help their friend. "Where?" Robin pointed in the direction they came from, and before she could give more details, Luffy and Zoro ran straight ahead.

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

As the commotion rose, the two sides continued their battle—two types of magic: those who used mana and knowledge, and those who relied on others’ souls.

"HAH! You think you can take US down?" the leader mocked, as ghostly hands emerged from the ground beneath him, attacking Y/N. "You’ll make a perfect sacrifice!"

Ignoring him, Y/N jumped high, creating a boulder to stand on. As she looked down at them, the witch felt... anger? Betrayal? Or just pity? She’d never know, because she had to finish this quickly.

"Ignia mi cora jejuteti sma tih berimah min thulg wanar ISMARI NEDAI YASAMA!" she threw her hand up with the palm facing the sky, the other straight by her side, palm facing the ground. "Waayuha ard kudibeamry wahibry tarwidatenla tasmahleaduwy LILHARAB!"

With the two spells cast, the sky filled with dark gray clouds, and the ground glowed with strange letters surrounding the whole village.

"RUN!" one of the dark magicians warned, running toward the edge of the village, but instead bumped into an invisible wall.

"What—THAT BITCH! Kill her!"

With one of them soaring high to stab her, an ice crystal pierced him, slamming him to the ground. And that was when the hell she unleashed began—ice-like spears and fireballs rained down, crushing the ceramic bodies of the dark magic users and burning them to ash.

Y/N descended, the sky clearing as the glowing runes on the ground faded. She bent down to pick up a ceramic shard that hadn't burned. "So, you also lose your humanity by 27, huh?" she chuckled dryly before letting the shard crumble into ash...............

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sunllghtt · 1 day ago

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Hi are you up for a messy scene analysis thing

Ofc it's this scene who do you think I am

I've been wanting to do this for God knows how long but I never had the balls and neither the words to (still don't) but I wanna try to properly talk about this scene. My primal instinct is to sit here and tell you how much this 30 second scene changed the trajectory of these characters in the next movies, how it made their friendship grow and develop and how much of a storytelling lesson it is (oh the so so deep understanding you need to have of your characters to have them say things so vaguely and still express exactly what they mean). I could also go down the emotional and subjective road and ramble about how much it means to me and how I resonate with it, but I've done that at least 837382 times and I think everyone knows it by now 😭 so!!! Let's get to the real thing

(I'm trying to keep it as analytical and straightforward as possible but please note that this is my favorite scene that's ever existed so neutrality is not really a possibility)

Rocket is a brat. He's restless, he's loud, he's always puffing up his chest and yelling at someone and picking fights with the wind cuz it was blowing in a way he didn't like and he's just an overall bastard. In this scene, though, we see him inside out. His head is low, his shoulders are slumped, he has his tail between his knees and he looks tired. He speaks quietly (curiously like he doesn't want anybody else to hear him), he's not deliberately insulting anyone and he's just..... defeated??

Up until that point I don't think we ever got to see Rocket like that. From what the movies have shown us he'd never had to. But in the past few days that led to this, Rocket had stolen batteries for no apparent reason (which we'll later learn why💀), ruined their ship, got literally kidnapped by Ravagers, blew up a creepy planet-guy-thing and oh my god attended his friend's dad's funeral. At least half of these things were directly or indirectly his fault and he knows it.

I don't think he ever doubted it was (we see it earlier in the movie when the Guardians leave to "The Chain" by Fleetwood Mac and Rocket scowls and winces like he either stepped in a pile of shit or got hit in the face by regret), but he still argued with Peter even knowing he was in the wrong just to keep up apparences or hold on to a little thread of pride when he was already feeling ashamed for being caught red-handed stealing shit he didn't need AND destroying their ship etc etc, and he just kinda fucked up big time. And I think that's (besides the general exhaustion of parenting a tree and fighting a planet and Yondu's death) is what got him so devastated in that scene.

Ofc Yondu played an extremely important role in that. He was the one to open Rocket's eyes, to give him some sort of reality check and show him the only thing isolation is ever gonna bring him is regret and bitterness (or, in other words, Yondu). Rocket is most of all hopeless and tired and just sad like that because he knows he hurt his friends. He knows he's chasing them away, that he yells at them, that he's always mean and that he steals batteries he doesn't need. He knows he's not awesome to put up with and seeing what happened to Yondu and his former friends probably made him terrified it'd happen to him and the Guardians too. He's stuck in this cycle of pushing them away with everything he can (and we could get into all his trauma regarding betrayal and death and literally endless other things but it's all very clear at this point) and he knows patience doesn't last forever. He's just scared, he feels bad and he's tired.

Now on the other hand we have Quill. He's also destroyed, he lost two fathers (3 if you count what Ego could've been, what he wanted him to be), basically relived his mother's death and had to watch literally every single one of them die. He's also scared and tired, yes, but all he has left is this unstable family of weird idiots who are learning how to show care and he's... pretty much fine with it. He wants it.

And when what Rocket's saying clicks, when he realizes who he's talking about, Quill, who's usually all smirks and teasing and bickering and name-calling, looks at his best friend like this,

because

(From vol 2 script!! Won't even try to comment on that last part before Quill's last line but I also really like that Peter just "shakes his head" over and over like he's just barely listening until he realizes what Rocket really means cuz it also shows a lot about his character. He's naturally a little slow and downright stupid when it comes to this kind of hidden emotional thing and he's also exhausted and depressed from everything that happened and STILL he stops and just. Sees Rocket, and sees Yondu.)

He's not doing well. He's probably sore and hurt and sad and miserable and yet he takes his sweet time to look down at Rocket, let go of his resentment from before and see right through him. In order to understand this scene it's important to remember he most likely doesn't know what Yondu told Rocket at all, he doesn't know anything they said to each other and how Yondu showed him they're mirrors. He doesn't know any of that. He just knows his best friend and his father and how much they resemble each other. He puts up with Rocket's bullshit because he knows how to deal with Yondu.

He could've just ignored him or pretended he didn't know what he was talking about. He could've made Rocket swallow his pride and "teach him a lesson" by making him say what he means without hiding behind metaphors and vague self-deprecation, because Rocket was probably vulnerable and defeated enough to be honest in that moment. And yet, he just looks at his friend, who's usually a loud and mean and restless brat, and is now staring at the floor with his ears droopy and his tail between his knees, and just says, as a form of reassurance and tenderness that's just as subtle and shy as Rocket's insecurities, "Well, of course not."

(The kind and soft and sweet DETERMINATION on his face tho like no!!! No we're not ditching you even though you suck I'm!!! Serious!!!!)

#this is #this is about a 28 second scene #and it has eight p EIGHT PAGES???!!!!???#people dont say “i like this thing” anymore no they write 8 page essays abt it #also i love Quill's not just like “oh nah man”#its a full on OF COURSE not. like undoubtedly and unquestionably youre NOT chasing us away and we dont hate you #normal behavior of a normal person (who is me because i am very normal)#gotg #rocket raccoon #peter quill #yondu udonta #guardians of the galaxy #rocky and pete #BATTERIES!!!

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