#I say recently but it’s always been a fascination of mine

[wigglebox]

Some style exploration sketches for Dean and Cas

[street-smarts00]

Complimentary Colors

Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

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WC: 7.3K

Summary: After recently joining the team, you and Spencer could never get along. What started off as you two ignoring each other turned into bickering at work. What happens when a stressful moment for you turns into an opportunity to get to know this fascinating coworker of yours?

tags: enemies to lovers, fluff, brief mentions of crime/murder at the beginning (talking about cases/kidnapping), reader is shy and anxious, reader looks young for her age. (reader might be female but i don’t think i specified)

A/N: I haven’t written anything in years and I’ve been on a criminal minds kick for a while. I had this idea loosely based off a prompt I saw on cai by (ApolloTheBoykisser) so thanks babes ;) also for once I had a fic of mine beta read lol my bestie beta read this for me. This is also posted on my AO3 page.

You had been working at the BAU for the last few weeks. You tried to get to know most of your coworkers and it seemed like you were making great progress. You had heard a lot about the team before you joined and were pretty intimidated by them at first. Okay- you were still pretty intimidated by them. But you pushed through your quiet exterior little by little and slowly but surely tried to get to know them. 

All except for Spencer Reid. It seemed like he was trying to avoid you. He was always very quiet and would barely talk to you. Being a shy person yourself, you thought maybe he was just shy or a quiet guy. However, he continued to ignore you except for when he had to acknowledge you for work. 

His coldness towards you was increasingly annoying as time went on, and your perception of him had slowly warped. The things about him you once found endearing, you now forced yourself to hate about him. If he rambled for too long, it could potentially make your blood boil. However, you could never stop paying attention to when he rambled on about facts or statistics. You didn’t want to admit it, but you found him fascinating.

It didn’t take that long for him to start acknowledging you, but this soon turned into the two of you bickering like children. When you were discussing cases or profiles, you both would argue over motives, victimology, crime scenes- literally anything about the case- you two could turn it into an opportunity to contradict the other. You both still kept a level of professionalism to not let your rivalry affect your job. 

But there was always this tension between the two of you when you were in close quarters for too long. 

And at some point you both reached your boiling point. 

Last week, while the team was on a case, you and Spencer had gotten into a little spat once again. This time it went beyond the slight bickering or contraction. In the middle of the local precinct, you two were at each other's throats. 

“What was that?” You asked after you and Spencer left the interview room that held a victims family. 

“I was working off of the profile . . .” 

“You mean the profile we haven’t finished?” You interrupted. “The one we are still currently working on and have yet to disclose?” 

“That doesn’t mean we can’t work off of the information we already have,” he objected. 

“You told her information we are still unsure about. We don’t know for a fact how long he keeps them alive,” you accused while placing your hands on your hips, trying to conceal your frustration but failing.

“Guys.” Someone tried to tone things down. Neither of you heard who and you weren’t backing down.

“If I remember correctly, I heard you discussing this very subject and inputting your thoughts  . . .” 

“You still shouldn’t have told her! Especially when you don’t know for sure if her daughter could be alive,” you seethed stepping closer.

“Would you rather me hide everything from the mother who’s suffering from the disappearance of her daughter?” He asked, matching your tone and taking a step forward. 

“I didn’t say that!” 

“It sure sounded like it.” 

“Reid. Y/N.” The two of you turned your heads to your boss like two deer caught in headlights. 

“With me, now.” Hotch demanded and led you to an empty interview room. 

You could tell how angry he was- despite the fact that his stoic face represented almost every emotion in the book. But by the tone of his voice, you knew you and Spencer had messed up. 

“You two do not only represent this team, you represent the bureau. These cops are already not pleased with the idea of their boss calling us in and I do not need you arguing in front of them and giving them a reason to take us off this case. You must learn to respect and cooperate with one another or I will take you both off this case. Do I make myself clear?” He lectured. 

You both replied with a monotone “yes.”

“Good” 

Ever since your argument, you both had been relatively quiet towards one another. Like it had been in the beginning when you were ignoring each other. But that didn’t stop you from letting him invade your mind at every waking minute. It almost saddened you in a way there was no more bickering or quick remarks with him. With how much it annoyed you, you never thought you would miss it. 

The team had just finished a case and before everyone packed up and went home, Rossi announced that tomorrow everyone should come over for a little ‘get our minds off work’ get together. Your coworkers all thought it was a great idea to relax after the last few very stressful cases. 

As excited as you were to finally go to one of Rossi’s house parties, you were also scared shitless. Parties with relatively new people in your life were hard. You were so quiet around new people and were scared to approach others; you often waited to be approached. To you, being a profiler was easier than having a social life. 

But, maybe this time would be different. There’s not that many people on the team and you’d already started to familiarize yourself with them. 

The next day, you were pulling up to Rossi’s house. If there was anything else to be intimidated by with this man- besides his years of experience in the BAU- it was this giant house. You were greeted by the man himself at his front door. 

“Y/N, glad you could make it.” He opened the door and welcomed you in. 

He led you inside to where everyone else was gathered. Everyone was cheery at your arrival. Penelope with her clicky heels ran up to you and greeted you with a hug. It was refreshing to be around people who were so welcoming. It made it a little bit easier to really let your walls down. 

Well, almost everyone. Spencer gave you a small wave from where he stood. 

The night continued on and you would occasionally engage in conversation with the team. At this point, you were off to the side- standing in the kitchen and occasionally sipping some wine that Rossi had been bragging about and was just so excited for everyone to try. You were a bit too overwhelmed to go back to talking. The music was getting a bit loud and the lights seemed to be too bright. You opted for sitting on the barstool next to the counter and observing everyone around.  

They were all off in small groups or pairs around the house. All except for you and Spencer. He was another outlier and standing away from all the commotion. You looked over in his direction and he caught your eye. You both glared at each other and you quickly averted your gaze away from him. Your thoughts started to race and you began playing with your hair. 

After a moment, he glanced over in your direction again when you weren’t looking. He was unintentionally profiling you and noticed you getting overstimulated. Your eyes laser focused like you zoned out, your foot tapping against the chair, and your hand anxiously playing with your hair. 

While he wasn’t exactly your friend, he did understand what it felt like when social gatherings got overwhelming. He made his way over to you, careful not to make you more nervous or uncomfortable. 

“You okay?” He asked you. You were pulled away from spacing out. His voice sounded a bit concerned- which took you by surprise. You were partially relieved someone approached you to help bring you back down to earth. That someone noticed something was off. What confused you was the fact that person was Spencer. 

“I’m fine.”

He was well aware of what it meant when someone was “fine” and you were clearly not fine. He felt bad that you were so quick to shut down his attempt to check on you. After all, it was his fault and he knew that. 

“Do you wanna step outside?” He asked. 

You were conflicted. You didn’t want to be outside alone with him, but at the same time, you needed some time away from everything. Maybe it would help calm your nerves. 

“Maybe for a bit.” 

You followed him outside onto the back patio. You took note of the fresh air and the muffled sounds from inside. It all felt like a weight lifted off your shoulders. Pretty soon though, you realized how awkward it was to be outside alone with him. 

Spencer cleared his throat and spoke to break the silence, “Sometimes these parties can be . . . a lot.”

“A little bit. I was doing fine for a while but I think my social battery is running low.” You confessed to explain your discomfort. 

“Yeah” he replied. He appreciated the fact that you felt comfortable enough to express this with him. He tried to relate to you. “It’s the same with me. Sometimes I just need a moment to collect myself.” 

“Exactly.” You were relieved to hear that he felt the same way. “Plus it doesn’t help that I'm so new to the team.” You crossed your arms and slightly closed yourself off.

“I was the same way when I first joined.” He told her to try and ease your concerns. You were just like him at some point. The new guy and just trying to figure out how you fit in. 

“It’s difficult at first, but you settle down after a bit. Once you get to know everyone.” 

“Yeah it’s just the whole getting to know them part is a bit . . .” You abruptly stopped, hesitating to reveal too much to him.  

“A bit what?” 

“Intimidating,” you confessed, avoiding his eyes.

He obviously noticed your hesitance and avoided his usual behavior with you. You were always so strong and quick to banter with him. But now you seemed vulnerable, and he didn’t want to take advantage of that. 

“It’s not just you, I promise.” He was being honest. This was the calmest and most genuine conversation the two of you had ever had. “I find them all pretty intimidating.” 

Your eyebrows raised at his confession. How could he possibly be intimidated by these people?

“Really? But you’ve known them for so long. You all are so close.” 

“Close doesn’t mean you can’t be a little intimidated,” he replied. It might not make much sense, but it was the truth. 

“I mean Hotch is always stonewall and silent, no matter what you say to him. And don’t even get me started on Morgan.” He joked, knowing you would understand. 

You lightly chuckled at his joke. “I get what you mean.” You were starting to understand him more. You thought it was ironic that one of the team members you were first intimidated by was also intimidated by the team. Now he was starting to seem less intimidating or annoying and more approachable. You kinda liked seeing this new side of Spencer. 

“I guess I’ve always been like that. Worried to get to know people or open up.” You weren’t entirely sure why you were telling him this, but you knew he would understand. 

"I think when you're afraid of being hurt or judged or misunderstood by people, you try to keep your guard up." He told you, speaking from experience. From a young age until now, he's always felt misunderstood. 

"And I think...maybe that's why you're on edge with me? You're not sure what to expect from me."

“Are you profiling me?” You asked jokingly. Spencer however thought you were serious and you noticed him tense up. 

“I’m kidding.” Your expression softened to let him know you weren’t actually accusing him of profiling you. “I’m gonna be completely honest, I’ve been on edge with you cause I thought you didn’t like me.” 

He was a bit taken off guard by your statement. But at the same time, he couldn't deny it. He didn't dislike you now, but at first, he wasn't exactly fond of you. And now he was ashamed of that.

"I didn't like you." He admitted. "I thought you were pretentious, too eager to be accepted. I think I saw you as competition." 

Spencer’s comment did sting. It was never sunshine and rainbows to hear someone doesn't like you. However, you did take note of his language. He said “didn’t,” “thought” and “saw,” all past tense. Does this mean he doesn’t dislike you now? What you did appreciate was his reciprocated honesty. You both were making some progress in your relationship and you wanted to continue it. 

“I was eager to be accepted. I wanted to feel like I belonged.” 

“I know how you feel.” He expressed his sympathy. “I regret not giving you a chance. You’re not like I thought you were.” He also appreciated seeing this different side of you.

“You’re not like I thought you were.” You admitted. 

A little smirk tugs at his lips, “So I’m not as pretentious and selfish as you thought?” 

You lightly chucked, “I never thought you were selfish, but I did think you were a ‘know-it-all’ and trying to show off.” 

Spencer really didn’t want you to think he was a show off. Sure- he had a vast amount of knowledge, but he never wanted you to think he was bragging or that he knew better than you. “I do know a lot but I promise I’m not trying to show off. I just have all this information in my head and I want to share it with people or I’m really passionate about something and want to talk about it.” 

You understood that feeling all too well. There were so many times you wanted to ramble on about things you cared about or had knowledge on, but for the most part just stayed quiet. Meanwhile, he didn't keep quiet. He would go on and on. And while almost everyone else was either rolling their eyes or trying to shut him up, you were listening intently. You didn’t want to admit it back then, but now you were feeling up to it. 

“I will admit, while I did think of you as a know it all, I found a lot of your tangents interesting.” You admitted. 

His eyebrows raised in surprise. He was so used to people dismissing him. It was nice to hear you often would listen. “Really? You didn't mind me babbling on?" He asked, relieved with your response. 

"I mean, it is something I have trouble with. I tend to talk too much.” 

“Oh Dr. Reid I am very familiar with rambling and being worried about talking too much.” You paused for a moment- considering how much more you wanted to share with him. “I know it may not seem like it because I’m always quiet around the team but.. once I get comfortable around people, I actually get very rambly”

"You do?" He asked, sounding surprised. “About what?”  

“Really anything. Mostly things I’m passionate about like you. I’ll also tend to go on tangents about memories or just things happening in my life.” 

You made your way to a bench on the patio as you spoke. Spencer followed and sat down on a chair adjacent to you. You brought your attention back to him and noticed his focused gaze on you and he quickly licked his lips, a habit you noticed he did all the time.

"You really are a lot like me. You're just quieter at first." He added, teasing you a little. While he was not one for social cues, he had the sudden urge to be bold and make a joke. "Maybe next time I see you rambling, I won't immediately contradict you." 

You dramatically dropped your jaw and placed your hand over your heart. “Wow, you really know how to give a compliment,” you said, pretending to be offended. 

He laughed with a bright grin. "I'm sorry. Let me rephrase. The fact that you're so silent and reserved makes it that much more thrilling when I find out how much of a chatterbox you actually are." He joked, being playful as before.

Your cheeky smile slightly falters for a moment. You hoped he wouldn’t notice but he did. “I think you won’t be so thrilled once I actually turn into a chatterbox around you.”

"Actually I think I would find it intriguing." He told you, looking directly into your eyes. "The quiet ones tend to be the most interesting and complex when they do end up talking."

“I’m not that interesting.”

“I beg to differ. You’re very interesting. Probably the most interesting person on the team.” 

Did he really say that? Did he mean it? Or was he just being nice? You tried not to profile him, but couldn’t help it. His body language expressed he was being honest. Uncrossed legs and arms, open palms, eye contact. The only thing you didn’t notice when studying his body language was his dilated pupils. 

“Thank you,” you smiled at his compliment, “I doubt I’m the most interesting though. You maybe, Mr. Three PHDs and can read 20,000 words per minute.” 

He smiled back at you, “Just because I'm well educated doesn’t mean you can’t be as interesting as me, if not more.” 

You couldn’t believe he was saying such nice things to you. This was the first time you guys were actually making some kind of connection.. and it felt wonderful. 

“I still can’t believe we’ve known each other for this long but are just now talking. And by talking, I mean not getting into a spat after speaking for more than 3 minutes.” You confessed with a hint of playfulness in your voice at your joke. 

“Yeah, I feel like I barely know you.” 

“What would you like to know?” You asked. 

He thought for a moment trying to think of a question to ask. You noticed once again that he licked his lips, trying to concentrate. 

“Let’s start with something simple. What’s your favorite color?” He asked. 

“Wow, I think that’s a bit too personal.” You said, voice laced with sarcasm. You tried your hardest to contain your amusement but started to smile. He smiled back at you. At first, he was always confused with sarcasm and social cues. To be honest, he still was. But he could just tell with you. He knew when you were joking and when you were being serious. He found your sense of humor amusing. 

“Yellow.” You answered. “What’s yours?” 

“Purple.” He replied. 

You intended to leave it inside your head- but a quiet “huh” made it past your lips as an idea came into focus. 

“What? Is it my choice for my favorite color?” He tried to joke with you but was also a little bit serious. 

“Oh no, it's just I thought it was interesting because those are complementary colors. You know how they are opposite on the color wheel?” You asked even though you figured he knew. 

He nodded his head, “Yes! Because they are on opposite ends of the color wheel, when they’re used together it creates a vibrant contrast and enhances visual appeal. The two colors almost balance each other out and support each other's intensity. Complimentary colors are a key component to color theory.” He suddenly noticed how long he was talking and his posture stiffened. He pressed his lips into a thin line and avoided eye contact. “Told you I talk too much.”

“And I told you that I find your rambling interesting.” 

His head perked back up at you. You genuinely wanted to listen to him. It was refreshing to talk to someone that didn’t cut him off or zone out. 

“That’s kinda like us though, don’t you think?” 

“What’s like us?” He asked confused, still thinking about the fact that you actually enjoy listening to what he has to say. 

“How our favorite colors are complimentary colors. Like you said, they support each other's intensity. When you first see them they’re opposites, but the more you look the more they compliment each other.” 

He softly smiles. “That does sound like us. The more we learn about each other, the more we find we have in common.” 

There was a short pause where you both considered his statement. You did want to know more about him. You wanted to know all of him. 

“Can I ask you a question this time?” 

“Of course.” 

“So, you're always reading. Like everywhere you go, you carry a book with you. I wanna know: what’s a book you could read over and over again and never get tired of?” You wanted to know beyond his favorite color. You wanted to get to the various  building blocks that made him the way he was. 

Spencer considered your question for a moment. Trying to go through the near infinite list of books he’s read in his life. You could tell he was concentrating on his answer because licked his lips. “Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens.” 

“Is he one of your favorite authors?” 

“Yes.” He said almost immediately, confident in his answer. 

“How come you like that book so much?” You asked.

You could see this sort of spark enter his eyes the more you asked about it. Giving him the chance to share his passions. ”Oliver Twist was one of the first books that used satire to deliver social commentary. Particularly in this book the social commentary was aimed at poverty in 19th century England. The book also quickly gained attention after its publication due to the scandalous subject matter in which crimes, such as murder, were depicted in detail.” 

Spencer finally stopped rambling and almost looked as if he caught his breath from the endless talking. But what he was met with was your undivided attention.

”That sounds really interesting, maybe one day I should give it a read.” You say with a soft smile.

“You should,” he matched your smile, but it seemed a bit more sheepish due to his brief tangent. “Have you ever read Charles Dickens before?”

You shook your head in response. “I’ve never read anything by him. I actually don’t read much. But I used to in high school.” You revealed. 

“What have you read?” He asked. He leaned slightly forward and unconsciously mirrored your body language and placed his right hand on his leg like you did yours.

“Pretty much the same books everyone else had to read for school.” You paused and tapped your fingers trying to refresh your memory.

“To Kill A Mockingbird, The Great Gatsby, 1984, um.. a few Shakespeare books.” You answered with the few books you could remember. 

“Which one did you like the most?” 

“I’m not sure”, you sighed and thought about his question, wanting to give him a genuine answer. “Maybe.. Macbeth. I remember finding the story interesting and I did a group project on Macbeth and Lady Macbeth's descent into madness. Like the scene where she’s hallucinating the blood on her hands.” 

Your voice started to pick up speed and volume ever so slightly. He could tell you were getting more passionate the more you spoke. Subtly displaying how you could ramble once you opened up to someone. He smiled as you continued, happy to see that you felt comfortable enough around him to let a hidden part of yourself out into the open. 

“I guess that kinda explains why I wanted to be a profiler and learn about psychology and forensics. I was interested in how Lady Macbeth's guilt manifested and caused her delusions. I wanted to understand why people did the things they did.”

“I can tell, you have this curiosity. You want to understand. Know the ‘why’. He mentally recalled the times you would express your curiosity during work. 

“Yeah, pretty much.” 

He pressed his lips in a line. “Is it- is it my turn to ask you something now?” He stuttered slightly. 

“I mean you don’t have to. It’s nobody’s ‘turn’ but you can if you want.” 

“I do.” He replied immediately. The corners of your mouth perked up into a small smile. He mirrored you.

“I may be stealing your previous question. Like you said you don’t read much. But I have noticed you listen to music a lot. I want to know a song you could listen to over and over again.” 

He was right, you often listen to music. Mostly on your way into work or on the jet, you would be wearing your signature headphones and have some playlist on. It was your own way of coping with the stress of your job. You looked down at the ground as you recalled the songs in your favorite playlist. 

“Dreams by The Cranberries.” You brought your eyes back up to face him. But what you saw was confusion in Spencer’s eyes. He tried to hide it but you knew better. “Have you heard that song?”

He did that little sideways pout you often saw him doing when he was in awkward situations.

“I’m not sure,” he replied. Spencer broke eye contact, embarrassed he didn’t know something from pop culture. 

“It’s okay. Remind me next time I have my headphones and I’ll show you.” You spoke calmly to reassure him there was nothing to be embarrassed about. 

He brought his attention back to you. Relieved to hear your gesture instead of a quip about his lack of pop culture knowledge like he was used to. 

“I will.” 

“Alright my turn.” You shifted your weight and brought your legs up to your side so your whole body could face him. “Um, it's kind of a personal question though. I’m curious about something.” 

“Go ahead. What is it?” He asked, giving you his whole undivided attention. 

“Does it ever bother you when people question your age when you say how educated you are?” 

He was somewhat thrown off by your question, but something told him you've wanted to ask him this for a while.

He furrowed his eyebrows, “I wouldn’t say it bothers me. Considering I have had such an extensive education so early in my life, it’s completely understandable that someone would question how I did it at a young age.” 

“Hmm,” you hummed in response. He knew that wasn’t the answer you were looking for. 

“Can I ask you something personal?” He asked before asking his real question. He appreciated your concerns about potentially pushing a boundary and he reciprocated it. He didn’t want to break this newfound friendship- if he could call it that- by making you uncomfortable. 

You nodded your head, silently telling him it was okay.

He slightly fidgeted with his hands. “Did you ask me that because people question your age?” 

“Yes,” you answered hesitantly. “I���ve never looked my age.” 

He thought about his next question before asking. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, I’m just trying to understand. Why does that bother you?” 

“It bothers me when people don’t take me seriously. I mean I’m in my late 20s and some people still think I look fresh out of college. It hasn’t happened as often since I joined the BAU but so many people in law enforcement don’t take me seriously. People tend to think I’m too innocent to have a job like this.” You confessed to him as you avoided looking him in the eyes.

"I wouldn't say you're innocent.” His comment brought your eyes back to him. 

“But you do have a soft demeanor. It makes you approachable. If anything, those qualities are an incredible asset to this job whether it be when you're speaking to victims or their family members.” 

Even though he would often throw snarky retorts to you in the past and try to get under your skin, he always admired how good you were at your job. Of course, you were an amazing profiler and had no trouble standing against dangerous unsubs. But the way you handled incredibly sensitive situations with such calmness and comfort with others was admirable. During cases with children, you were able to ease their worries and provide a safe space.

“While you are very sweet and shy, I would never call you innocent.”

“Thanks,” you smiled at his compliments. You felt understood hearing his affirmation. It also warmed your heart to hear that he thought so highly of you. Especially since the last few weeks, you thought he hated your guts. Although- his comment did make you more curious about how you were perceived. “Half the time I don’t realize how shy I am or how I present myself,” you weakly chuckled.

“There were actually a lot of ways to deduce that you're shy,” he matched your lighthearted tone but also kept a sense of seriousness to prove he was being genuine.

“Was it the fact that I was sitting by myself and scared to talk to them?” You half joked as you figured that’s what he was going to imply.

"That was part of it, yes. But besides that, it was the way you often avoid direct eye contact, and the tone of your voice. It's gentle and low, as if you're afraid of coming on too strong.” He was too caught up in his thoughts and observations to realize how much he was divulging. “You keep your distance and your words are always measured or not overly assertive. Almost like if you do come off assertive you will receive backlash." 

When he met your eyes again, he noticed how frozen you were. On the outside you didn't reveal much, simply had a stoic expression. He knew you better than that. He knew that he had hit a nerve and started to panic that he went too far. He had finally wrecked this slowly growing friendship like he thought he would, by being himself. 

“Wow, yeah that sounds pretty spot on,” you agreed. You sounded soft spoken and played with your hair again, of course without your knowledge.      

“I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He abruptly spattered in a panic.

“No it’s okay really,” you interrupted trying to reassure him. “I just didn’t expect you to be so ... correct.” 

He pressed his lips into a thin line, relieved he didn't mess things up, but still slightly worried he had left you feeling exposed. "I guess I'm just good at noticing things about people,” he shrugged.

“You forget, we get paid to notice things about people,” you joked with him, trying to make him feel better by lightening the situation. Of course, it worked. 

"That's true." He chuckled and paused for a moment to consider. Then he continued with his profile of you. 

"It's just the way your voice softens whenever you become uncomfortable, almost whispering or lowering in tone. Or your nervous habits, like when you play with your hair." It was a gesture he was pretty keen on catching.

You suddenly were very aware of the fact you were playing with your hair. You quickly dropped your hands and crossed your arms. 

"It's not bad that you do that, you know,” his voice had a slight crack in it. “It's just something you do subconsciously." He told her, trying to be comforting.

“Do you wanna know something you do subconsciously?” You asked, your voice with a hint of teasing. You decided that if he was going to profile you, you were going to profile him back. 

He noticed your tone and that you had gained a bit more confidence. "Sure, hit me." He said as he awaited your reply with curiosity and interest.

“You poke your tongue out a lot or lick your lips. Most of the time when you’re concentrating or lost in thought. Which means you definitely need to start using chapstick. I’ve seen you do it a lot since we’ve been out here.” You explained.

"So, are you telling me my lips are dry?" He replied playfully, his grin widening.

“They probably are,” you lightly laughed at the silliness of his question. He laughed along with you and subconsciously went to lick his lips again, but caught himself.

“I'm gonna be thinking about this so much more now,” he confessed. 

“Consider it payback for pointing out how much I play with my hair when I'm anxious. I don’t know what to do with my hands now,” you remarked as you dramatically waved your hands in the air.                                 

“Sorry,” he awkwardly apologized.

“I already told you it’s alright. You're not the only one who analyzes behavior. I’ve noticed plenty of things you do and why you do it.” 

“Like what?” He furrowed his eyebrows, curious what particular things about him you had profiled. He noticed something though. The confidence you once had, had washed away after you collected your thoughts.  

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you stated.

"You won’t make me uncomfortable,” he responded almost immediately. “I promise. I really want to know.”

You took a deep breath before explaining your observations. “You desperately want to be heard. You love to share the endless knowledge you have, but when someone walks away or cuts you off your reaction is almost that of deflating. And when someone does show a bit of interest in what you have to say your voice perks up and almost cracks with excitement. Then you talk a lot faster, probably a mixture of excitement and as a way to keep the other person engaged and to not lose their attention.” 

Spencer carefully listened to every word you said. Not a single deduction was false. You had read him like a book in the short time you knew him. You noticed something about him that most of the team couldn’t pick up on. 

"You're right about everything,” he said with a soft tone. Almost everyone interrupted him, you never did. This got him thinking. Of course everyone on the team made observations about each other, they’re profilers of course. However, he wondered why you had made so many about him. 

"Are you always this observant about everyone? And I mean everyone. Or is it just me that gets the special treatment?" He asked his last question with a hint of a teasing tone.

You scoffed, “yeah right, like you get special treatment.” You thought about your response, not wanting to reveal too much.

“I guess I might have paid attention to you because you were the only one who was so closed off to me. I wanted to know why. I wanted to know who you were even if you weren’t going to tell me.” 

He was right, you were paying him special attention. The fact that you wanted to know who he was despite his closed off nature revealed enough. 

“So you admit it, I get special treatment?" He cheekily asked. 

“Oh shut up,” you retorted. 

“Make me.”

Your lips pursed, holding back a smile. 

Spencer noticed you were trying to hold back a smile and found it endearing. He also noticed something else about your reaction. You were blushing. You blushed as a result of his taunting. He got lost in the thought of you blushing from him. 

“Something you wanna share with the class?” You teased. 

He didn't want to admit it, not yet at least. He wanted to make you sweat just a little bit and get a reaction out of you. 

"I'm curious about something. Could you tell me what would cause someone's cheeks to flush?" He tried to seem genuine but of course he came off with a hint of cheekiness. 

You furrowed your eyebrows. You were completely oblivious to your red face and were confused by his random inquiry. 

“Are you questioning my profiling skills?” You lightly scoffed, not knowing what his true intentions were.

"No, not exactly. I just want to know what you think.”

Your expression changed to one of confusion but also amusement. You decided to play along with his little game.

“Well psychologically blushing could mean a multitude of things. Embarrassment, stress, anxiety, attraction.” While your voice stayed consistent, he noticed the change in your breath and how your eyes darted away from him. It was a brief expression, but he caught it. He got the answer he was looking for.

"And which one of those can explain why you’re blushing?" He raised an eyebrow and smirked as he leaned closer to you.

Your stomach dropped and eyes widened. You shifted your weight in your seat and touched your cheeks. “I’m not blushing..” You ignored his question.

"You are.”

You sighed and stood up, “Well if I am it’s probably because you just pointed it out and I’m embarrassed.” 

"Oh, really?" He taunted and followed you. "I think that you might be blushing for a different reason."

You bit your lip out of frustration and crossed your arms. “Are you profiling me Spencer?” 

"Maybe I am,” he smirked. "I would say that maybe you've been so interested in me that you've been paying a lot of attention. That's why you took note of so many of my habits and behavior." 

Your face got redder and you started playing with your hair again. You huffed, “I told you before, the reason I paid attention to you was because I didn’t know you.”

"Sure, but you pointed out how you kept noticing I licked my lips. Why were you looking at my lips in the first place?"  

You were caught between a rock and a hard place. “Why are you so interested in why I’m blushing or looking at your dumb face anyway? Why do you care so much?” You asked defensively. 

He couldn’t respond, he froze up. 

“I mean, you question why I pay so much attention to you but here you are doing the same thing to me. Trying to read me like a book,” you accused. 

He cleared his throat and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I guess we're both curious about each other."

“I guess we are,” you responded. You saw his cheeks turn pink in reaction to your questioning. “Look who’s red now.”

If his face could even get redder, it did. For a man that could probably say a thousand words a minute, it seemed like none of them could fall from his lips. 

It was your turn to smirk. “I can’t believe I’ve managed to leave you speechless. Never thought that would happen.”

"Shut up,” he sheepishly scoffed. 

“Make me.”

Spencer felt his stomach flutter, he smiled bashfully at your mimicking his own teasing. The seconds passed and neither of you spoke, neither of you had words. Both of you in your own heads. In your head, you got a stroke of confidence. You didn't know where it came from, maybe the teasing, maybe the fact that you had him speechless. But you took it and ran with it.

”Maybe the reason you wanted to know why I was blushing so badly, is the same exact reason I was blushing,” you mumbled. 

The realization hit him in waves. You just admitted to the very thing he was trying to get out of you in the first place. He was speechless once again, but this was different. He stared at you with a stunned look, not knowing what to do. 

You took his blank expression as a negative reaction, thinking you came off too strong. You slowly backed away from him, regretting putting yourself out there. 

“Sorry. I don’t know why I said that. Just forget it.” You turned around to go back inside but felt something on your wrist. You turned around and saw Spencer had grabbed your wrist to stop you. His eyes wide and breath heavy.

"No. Don’t,” he begged. 

"Really?" You whispered softly. 

He smiled, "yes. Please don't take it back."

You smiled back at him bashfully. Spencer’s reaction make your stomach do backflips, but it made you wonder. 

"Can I ask, why did you pay such close attention to me? 

He released his light grasp on your wrist and instead placed your hand in his. "I couldn't stop analyzing every single detail about you. I wanted to know you inside and out. There was something about you that felt intoxicating. After every time I spoke to you, even if it was just us bickering or arguing, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.” 

He looked down at your joined hands and started to rub his thumb over your hand. You looked up at him and smiled, glancing at his lips. “Well you definitely must be thinking about something now, you licked your lips.”

He couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed. You made him feel like he was on full display, like he was a book that only you could read. 

He slightly blushed at your comment. “I am. Can you guess what I'm thinking about?"

You grabbed his other hand with yours as a smirk grew on your face, “How close we are. How it’s probably driving you crazy..” You nearly whispered the last part as you leaned closer to him, “how I’m making you crazy..”

"You do.” Spencer wrapped one of his arms around your waist and placed his hand on the small of your back. A shiver ran down your spine as his hand touched your back. Of course, he could tell and was light headed by the effect you had on him. He’d never felt so intoxicated by someone before. “You’ve made me a mad man ever since I met you.” 

Your heart was beating so fast it felt like it was going to burst out of your chest.

“What about you?” He asked. “Do I make you crazy?”��

You glanced between his eyes and his lips. 

“Yes..”

It was like you both were on the exact same wavelength. You both dove in at the same time and slammed your lips together. Both of you just so desperate to get a taste of the other. The kiss was tender and passionate, with no single person in control. You both moved together in synced motions. All of the arguments, all the tension that had been slowly building up could be released.

When you finally parted, Spencer rested his forehead against yours. You felt his airy breath as he tried to come back down to earth. You placed a hand on his face and stroked his cheek with your thumb. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks,” he breathed. 

“I can tell,” you chuckled. “what’s stopping you from doing it again?”

“Do you want me to?” He asked desperately. 

You placed your other hand on the back of his neck, “I love hearing you talk.. but shut up and kiss me.

Before today he never liked the idea of you telling him what to do. But now, he was at your mercy. He didn’t hesitate and locked your lips with his once again. You both melted together like lovesick teenagers. But moments like these of course don’t last forever. 

The sound of the patio door opening fell deaf on both your ears. It wasn’t until you heard Derek Morgan that you both pulled away from each other. 

”What’s going on out here?” Derek questioned with a smirk. 

You and Spencer couldn’t speak, too frozen to react. 

His grin only grew, “My man,” he chuckled as he glanced at Spencer.

“Don’t kill each other while you're out here.”  Derek left the way he came and closed the patio door. 

You sighed, “He’s gonna tell someone isn’t he?”

“Yup”

~

He made his way back to his coworkers with a cheeky grin plastered on his face. “What’s got you all happy?” Emily asked. 

“Looks like our two angry birds are now two love birds,” he answered. 

“What? What are you talking about?” Penelope sprinted over as fast as she could with her heels. 

“How I just caught Reid and Y/N making out.”

The room exploded with chaos at the reactions to his news.

JJ, who was standing off to the side with Hotch, furrowed her eyebrows, “I thought they hated each other?” 

Hotch glanced towards the patio door and saw the light shadow of two figures. “No they don't. Not really.” 

[dailyadventureprompts]

I've got a new d&d group and they're almost all new players, with some of them having played with me before in oneshots/ gotten a couple sessions into campaigns that fizzled.

There's the usual learning pains: No one's quite got a handle on the rules yet and is relying on me for which dice to roll ( it's a D20 friends, it's always going to be a D20 unless it's damage I don't know how many times I have to say that). Person A is nervous and over-talkative , person B is nervous and withdraws from conversation, Person C is always running a little late...

But what really surprises me is the difference between them and the group I've had going for 2 years now:

Newgroup THEORIZES in a way that I don't think I've ever seen despite playing this game for two decades. I'll ask them what they're doing and they'll have a multi-minute chat weighing the value of different options. They don't turn to ME, or ask me if things are possible ( which is what new players tend to do), they turn to eachother and ask if they think it's a good idea that they do X or Y and then what could happen from there. I'm trying to be a good DM and let them learn the ropes but it's FASCINATING response. For example; the barbarian says "I'll use my shield to pin the monster in place so we can question them about the villain" and before I can even get into my response another player will say "but what if I used my rope instead to tie them up?", meanwhile none of them have confirmed if the monster is in any way related to the villain or is capable of speech (it wasn't, it was a mimic fyi)

Newgroup is LASER targeted on their goal, which was a surprise as someone who was DMing for a party that purposefully jumped ship on the A plot ASAP and is actively resentful of anything resembling a main quest. Newgroup passes through a mining village that's been deserted after a recent attack by monsters which drove people up into the hills, a Classic rescue mission with a bit of a dungeon delve on top, intended to give the party some XP and magic items before they leave the early game and I stop pulling my punches. Newgroup stays just long enough to confirm that the monsters have nothing to do with the A plot and unanimously decide to leave the village post haste. Meanwhile I have to be careful about what information I drop to oldgroup, as if they catch a single whiff of villanious wrongdoing they'll drop what they're doing and divert their attention to wiping that threat off the map. I've now had to have multiple villains make peace treaties in all but name with this party because of their habit of knocking out rivals/threats/governments.

Because oldgroup know the game really well they're less experimental with what they want to accomplish. They know that things can be solved through class features/dice rolls/damage, and so those are their default solutions to most problems. Meanwhile newgroup has no IDEA what the limits of the game system are so they're trying clever stuff left and right. " Can I hit it in the eye with my arrow? Can I use this spell to find out if _____, Can we use the flying boots to _____?" They're asking genuinely good questions so often that it's made me want to play around with the d20 resolution system to get something more closed to the " drawback/mixed success" sorts of results you get in apocalypse world style games. ( I think I found a neat fix, more on that to come)

[scarletwinterxx]

his day - mark lee dad imagine

hellooo. here's the mark dad father's day scenario🥺 i thought about writing one before father's day but i didn't have the time then some of you requested it so i wrote it during my free time. It took a while since I was busy but it's here. I hope you like it🤍

part1: day with dad mark lee

part2: another day with dad mark lee

part3: a day with the lee's

part4: (prologue) i don't know how to make eggs

part5: glitter pens and goodnight kisses with the Lee's

part6: first love and kisses

part7: naps and baby kicks

part8: then there was three

part9: just like you

part10: fool for you

part11: your day

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

and if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

Having a new born baby is a new challenge every time. It doesn't really matter if you already went through this twice. The fact that you have 2 older kids to get ready for school and a new born that wakes up every hour makes it 10 times more difficult.

But of course things are made better when you have your husband with you. The two of you already have the routine down to the T, usually you take the night shift since you have to feed baby Minsu while Mark takes the morning shift to get the kids ready and drive them to school.

Mark took some time off work to be with his family. He knew it would be difficult to leave you at home with the kids, and even though his parents offered to help he politely declined them with the assurance that he can handle it.

And he did. The kids are out the door and on their way to school just in time then Minsu to wake up to feed again, usually you'd do that before going downstairs to eat breakfast and get ready for the day.

The two older kids also adjusted pretty well with the birth of their new sibling, Minjee was so excited to meet him and was fascinated to see the little human. Minjung was also so happy to meet his little brother, promising to teach him everything when he gets older.

Watching your three kids together washes all of the tiredness away. The fear and anxiety you felt when delivering your youngest all goes at the back of your mind once you see Minjung hold little Minsu in his arms. Your first baby holding your youngest.

Minjee of course couldn't wait for her turn to hold the baby, you were more worried about her adjusting but she welcomed her younger sibling just as easy. She even promised she would share her cakepops with her baby brother.

All the long nights, sleepless weeks to months and the anxiety if you're doing the right thing everyday is worth it. For them, you'd do it over and over again without a doubt.

It's not always happy days of course. Some nights are more rough than others, recently Minsu hasn't been sleeping. Doctor said he might have colic, they did say it'll go away eventually and there's really not much you can do so you try to comfort him best way you can.

Mark has that mastered. Once Minsu fusses, he's already on his feet shushing his little boy back to sleep. Singing him the softest most random lullabies. Sometimes you find him just walking around the house with Minsu in his arms, telling him the most random stories

That is exactly how you found the two of them in the living room, you don't know how long Mark has been walking in circles in your living room. You can hear him telling Minsu about the many times he and Haechan got in an agreement. Laughing quietly when you hear the familiar story of that time Haechan ran over the mailbox while driving Mark's car.

Your laugh made Mark look up from the baby in his arms and over to you, a similar fond look on his face

"What a peculiar story to tell a baby"

"It puts him to sleep" Mark tells you

"I bet, imagine your dad rambling to you for hours" you joke, watching him walk in circles around the living room

"Why don't I take him, I already showered and ate breakfast"

"Its fine, love"

"Mark honey, I love you really but right now you need a shower. You're covered in baby vomit" you point at the huge stain on his shirt, you stand up from your seat to get Minsu from him

"I got this, you go get ready" you kiss him on the cheek, playfully pushing him towards the stairs

You take this time to get the surprise ready. It's father's day today and even though you agreed not to do anything grand since you just gave birth a month ago, you still wanted to do something for him.

When you're sure Minsu is asleep. You put him down on the baby rocker you have in the living room while you get the cake and flowers you secretly ordered.

It's still quiet in your bedroom upstairs so you assume Mark is still in the shower. You get your present for Mark and set it on the table also then you wait.

After a few minutes, you hear the footsteps down the stairs then Mark emerges with a towel in hand. "Hey can you dry wait woah what's this" he asks, a big smile forming on his face

"Happy Father's Day, my love"

"This is woah when did you do this, are these for me?" He takes the flowers to take a closer look

"Yep, I saw somewhere say men only receive flowers on their funeral and that made me so sad then i thought i never gave you flowers then i got sadder so i got you some"

He smiles at you, putting the flowers down so he could give you a big hug

"You're so cute, it's okay though. You gave me everything and more than I could ever ask for, just look at that" he juts his chin over Minsu who's still sleeping "How can I ever ask for more when I have all"

"You're cheesy"

"You love me"

"That I do. This life we have, I hope this isn't the only one. If there's a life after this, let's meet again okay?"

He looks right at you, listening to your words like he's hearing your wedding vows again. Then he leans down to capture your lips in his, like every kiss with you is the first.

"I'll love you in this one, and in all the other lives I'll live. I'm so so happy, there's really nothing else in this world I'd want more"

You kiss him again, smiling against his lips and hugging him tighter. The two of you only broke apart when you hear your baby cry

"Oh that's the hungry cry, you got it?" Mark says as he picks up Minsu and pass him over to you.

"Minjung gave me a little spiderman lego thing, I'll show it to you I forgot. Then he hugged me and said thank you for being a cool dad even though I don't know how to cook"

You let out a chuckle, imagining your boy saying it to his dad. "That's why I'm teaching him so one day his own kid can say he's a great cook" you joke

"Hey!"

"What about Jee?"

"She made me a card, I swear she used all the glitter she had. I love it, I really do. I also think I would never get rid of the glitter in my office so we might need to move"

While he's talking, you can see the fond look on his face as he talks about his children. You know how much Mark loves you, there isn't a day in your entire relationship that he forgot to tell you that.

But you know deep in you there's no one on this Earth he loves more than his kids, he'd do anything and everything for them.

And you love him so much for that.

[helloalycia]

𝐀 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐕𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐆𝐄 [𝐎𝐍𝐄] — 𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐓

two / masterlist / wattpad

summary: when you're invited to help film a documentary about the lost island of Yamatai, you don't expect to be fighting for your life against the natives – with your old crush from university of all people.

warning/s: mentions of violence, assault, death, ship crash, guns, paranormal stuff and basically anything the first Tomb Raider game involved lol.

author's note: so i recently replayed the tomb raider games and naturally felt the need to write a little fic for 2013 Lara bc she's a cutie who deserved the world, and thus this was born!

It's a two parter and follows the storyline from the first game and part of the comics (no need to have read them if you haven't, it's all explained within the story and pretty easy to follow). Hope you enjoy! 🥰

I glanced around the dock, spotting the Endurance instantly, it looking just as Sam, my university classmate, described to me.

We'd met during our Film degree, where we'd worked together enough times to appreciate the partnership. When she called me up last minute to help film a documentary for TV with celebrity archaeologist Dr. Whitman, I knew I couldn't resist.

"Can I help you, miss?" a man asked as I lingered by the ship, staring up at it in awe.

"I– sorry, yes," I said with a sheepish smile, "I'm looking for Samantha Nishimura? I'm supposed to be meeting her–"

"Y/N! You're here!"

I looked behind the fisherman and spotted Sam standing on the Endurance, waving down at me enthusiastically. I smiled widely, returning her wave, before excusing myself from the man and lugging my suitcase up the ramp to meet her. As soon as I stepped foot on the ship, she pulled me in for a hug.

"I'm so glad you made it," she said excitedly. "You look great!"

I chuckled, always finding her American accent paired with her natural enthusiasm refreshing. "I said I would, didn't I? I'm grateful you called, Sam. Can't say I've been on a ship before." 

"And here's me thinking you were excited to be working with me again," she retorted sarcastically.

"Always," I assured her, making her roll her eyes playfully.

"C'mon, I wanna introduce you to everyone," she said, already dragging me by the hand to the other side of the deck.

I pulled my suitcase clumsily behind me, glad when she stopped before a familiar face who was staring out at the sea by the railing.

"Lara, Y/N's here," Sam called to her friend.

Lara turned around and I found myself smiling without meaning to. Lara Croft was Sam's best friend and we'd met on a few occasions prior to this, mostly at university when Sam and I would hang out or she'd invite me to their shared flat. I always found her fascinating, an adorably awkward and quiet girl who I couldn't help but fancy just a little bit, but she didn't need to know that. I would be lying if I said I wasn't excited to be working with her again.

"Y/N, hello," Lara greeted me with a nervous smile, the complete opposite to Sam. "How have you been?"

"Hey, Lara, I've been good, thanks," I said with a nod. "Just excited to be here is all. Sam mentioned you're helping out with the research for Dr. Whitman's documentary, that's pretty huge."

Cheeks dusting pink, Lara shrugged bashfully. "Not sure it's huge, but–”

"Oh, be quiet," Sam shushed her instantly, before shooting me a look. "This was mostly her idea. She's gonna nail it.”

"I don't doubt it," I agreed with a laugh, finding Lara's shyness endearing.

"C'mon, I'll introduce you to the others," Sam said with a slight nudge. "And I'll show you your room."

"Sounds good," I agreed, ready to follow after her.

As she began to lead the way, Lara spoke, "It's good to have you on board, Y/N."

Naturally, I found myself smiling all over again, especially when her eyes met mine. "It's good to be on board. I look forward to working with you."

She returned my smile and I forced myself to look away before I got carried away staring. I couldn't help it, she was captivating!

After showing me around the ship, which hadn't set sail just yet as we were waiting on one more, Sam introduced me to the other crew members.

There was Roth, the captain of the ship and a lovely guy (though I was biased since he was northern like me); Grim, the helmsman and a man with many stories to tell; Jonah, the guy I was definitely going to be on good terms with considering he was cooking all our dinners; Alex, the technician who, according to Sam, overcompensated for his lack of coolness with his absolute goofiness, but he was ultimately harmless; there was also Dr. Whitman, who was a questionable character but also the reason for this documentary, so I paid it no mind; and lastly, there was Reyes, who arrived right before we set sail.

"She's really good at what she does," Sam was explaining as her, Lara and I were mumbling in the kitchen over cups of tea, "but she's a little scary. Roth vouches for her."

I quirked a brow as I glanced over at Reyes, who was talking to Roth and Grim on the other side of the kitchen. "She doesn't look scary."

"Give it a day then tell us if you still think that," Lara muttered with a knowing look. "If looks could kill..."

"I can hear you ladies perfectly clear from over here, y'know," Reyes suddenly spoke, before I could respond to Lara.

We all looked up to see Reyes narrowing her eyes at us from beside Roth and Grim, and without saying another word, the three of us scrambled out the kitchen with our tea. It was easy to know what Sam and Lara meant now. Reyes was not one to get on the bad side of.

After all the introductions were done, we finally set off on our expedition to Yamatai, and I was already looking forward to what this new adventure would bring.

—

A few days into the journey and I already felt settled in on the ship, easily falling into a rhythm of everything. Between eating meals with the others, planning and filming footage with Sam and learning more about this mystery island of Yamatai, I was enjoying myself a lot.

I was especially enjoying getting to know Lara a bit more, outside of the usual greetings we exchanged at university. It was easy to warm up to her, though I suppose I always had. This time though, she seemed to be warming up to me too for a change and I gladly welcomed it. Though I looked for any excuse to hang around her, so it was no surprise she grew used to me.

It was a few days into it when I was getting some B-roll footage whilst Sam conducted some interviews with the crew. It was little things like Jonah cooking or Reyes fixing something or, in this instance, Lara working on some research in her room.

"So, you just wanna film me working?" she asked with confusion, after she let me in with the request of shooting some more.

"Yep, just keep doing what you're doing," I told her, nodding to her position at her desk where several papers and books were sprawled out.

"It's going to be a little boring, isn't it?" she mumbled, puzzled, as she looked back to her desk. "I'm just reading and making notes."

"That'll do," I assured her with a smile, before turning my camera on and pointing it her way. "Pretend I'm not here."

She nodded, clearly not understanding what B-roll meant, and it made me stifle a laugh as I began to film her working. It was obvious she was uncomfortable with the camera though, a little stiff, so I decided to have a little fun with it.

"So, here we have Miss Lara Croft, our resident researcher, hanging out and doing her– well, her researching, of course," I narrated quietly, dead serious as I kept filming.

She glanced up at me, quirking a brow, but I ignored it and continued.

"As you can see, there's a bit of mythology here, some languages there."

"Y/N, what are you doing?" she finally asked, cheeks tinged pink.

I straightened up and lowered my camera slightly, playing dumb. "Oh, didn't Sam tell you?"

She furrowed her brows, suddenly intrigued. "Tell me what...?"

I nodded like it was obvious. "That we're making you a TV star."

Realising I was teasing her, she scoffed quietly, ready to retort, but I beat her to it.

"Yeah, people are gonna turn on their telly for Whitman, but stay for Lara Croft," I continued nonchalantly. "Everyone's gonna be wondering who the intelligent and cute researcher is that landed Whitman on the undiscovered island of Yamatai."

"Oh, now you're just being a pain in my arse," she said disapprovingly, standing up and going to her bed.

I couldn't help but laugh. "What? It's true! I'm just giving the people what they want, Lara."

As I lifted the camera to zoom in on her face, I realised a moment too late that she'd grabbed a pillow from her bed.

"Get out!" she said with a ghost of a smile, throwing said pillow at the camera.

All I did was laugh again and she suddenly launched a second one at my face before guiding me to the door.

"Okay, okay, I'm leaving!" I defended with a grin, stepping outside her door.

She rolled her eyes at my expression, but not before her lips curved into a slight smile, then the door was slammed in my face.

Totally worth it.

—

I wrinkled my nose uncomfortably, feeling myself drift from dreamland to reality. Something was tickling me and it wasn't doing anything to help with my nap.

When it wouldn't stop, I reached for my nose and cracked open an eye, only to see the blurry image of Lara and Alex kneeling down before me. Confused, I opened both eyes and realised they were holding my videocamera, clearly taping something.

"What are you idiots doing?" I mumbled tiredly, sitting up when they began to chuckle.

After a quick glance in my phone camera, my eyes widened when I saw what they'd done. Black eyeliner – the same eyeliner in Lara's hand – was drawn on my face into a moustache and bushy eyebrows, and they'd recorded the whole thing.

"Hey!" I shouted, fixing them with a glare, and as soon as I got up, they both began to squeal as they took my videocamera and ran out of there.

I struggled after them, making it as far as the hallway before I gave up with the chase, but not after shouting some select insults at them.

"You should've known not to fall asleep with them nearby," Sam warned with a stifled smile, leaning against the doorframe when she spotted me.

"Thanks for the advice," I said grumpily, before going to the bathroom to wipe it off.

After managing to scrub it off with some makeup wipes, I went to my cabin to relax in peace, then I heard a knock on my open door. Turning around, I narrowed my eyes suspiciously upon seeing Lara standing there, holding my videocamera.

"Sorry," she apologised, though it was hard to believe her when she was smiling uncontrollably.

"You're not though," I pointed out, accepting the camera from her grasp.

"Yeah, not really," she admitted with a chuckle, before following me to my bed to sit on it. "I was just getting that extra footage you wanted. B-roll, right?"

I tensed my jaw as I fixed her with a suspicious glance, seeing the innocent smile she feigned as she used my own words against me. Annoyingly enough, she was still cute.

"It's fine, Croft, I'll get my own back eventually," I replied as I leaned against my headboard.

"Oh, I'm so scared," she said sarcastically, sitting at the foot of my bed and leaning back against the dresser.

"You just see," I retorted knowingly, already planning several ways to get back at her and Alex.

She laughed, a wholehearted laugh that lit up the room in an instant and brought butterflies to my chest. "How about I make it up to you?"

I lifted a brow, curious. "Oh, yeah? How?"

She pulled her knees up to her chest as she gave me a proud look over them, brown eyes twinkling. "Jonah may or may not have snuck an extra stash of Jaffa Cakes on board for me. Some extras. And I may or may not be inclined to share."

I began to smile with amusement. "I suppose that could sway me."

Her own smile widened. "What are waiting for? C'mon!"

I laughed as she got off the bed. "What, now?"

"Duh!"

She was already leading the way out of my room, so I went on and followed after her, the two of us eventually settling in her cabin. I got comfortable on her bed as she dug around in her wardrobe before triumphantly pulling out a pack of Jaffa Cakes.

If I'd known Jaffa Cakes were the key to Lara Croft's heart, I would've bought them for her a long time ago. As soon as she pulled them out, she was instantly comfortable, settling on the bed beside me and splitting a few between us.

We fell into conversation about where she was up to with her research and her theories on Yamatai generally, and it was adorable watching how passionate she spoke of it all. One of the few times I'd seen her in her element was when she was working, theorising, researching. Despite only understanding half of what she was saying, I couldn't bear to interrupt because she looked so carefree talking about it.

Only when she was finished sharing her latest theory about the exact location of Yamatai – something we still hadn't decided on as a crew – and Whitman's reluctance to hear her out, did I speak.

"He's got all these degrees, but he doesn't seem very clever," I said what I was thinking, making her chuckle.

"Y/N, c'mon, that's mean," she said in a way that made me think she'd had the same thought too.

"What? It's true!" I defended. "You're a lot smarter than him, Lara. A million degrees or not, he should listen to you."

Her smile softened at my words. "Well, that's nice of you to say. Thank you."

I shrugged, not trying to be nice but genuinely meaning it. Whitman was a TV personality first and an archaeologist second. In the short time we'd spent together, it was easy to see he was only in it for the money and glory, whereas Lara was the prime example of someone with genuine interest in the discovery. It was a shame Whitman couldn't see that.

"What about you anyway?" she spoke, earning my attention. "How's your first voyage on sea?"

"Not bad actually," I said with a nod. "I've never been on a ship before so it's pretty exciting. Plus, it helps that I'm with friends. Those are the best kinds of jobs."

"Aww, you think of me as a friend?" she asked playfully, hand to her chest.

I met her eyes with a deadpan expression. "I was talking about Sam."

She scoffed before launching her pillow at my head, making me laugh as I blocked my face with my arms.

"I'm kidding!" I exclaimed. "But I mean it about the trip. It's fun. Plus, it's a job and it's always nice to get paid."

She rolled her eyes playfully, leaning back again. "What are you planning to do after?"

I looked up in thought before shrugging. "Dunno yet. I'll see what happens, I guess. How about you?"

"I'll probably work with Roth until I figure it out," she admitted.

I watched her with intrigue. "Sam mentioned you love travelling and archaeology. Showed me pictures from those trips you took together back in uni. It seems fitting you'd continue down that path."

A small smile appeared on her lips at the memory. "Yeah, those were fun. And I do, I just..." Her smile faded, a distant look in her eyes. "I'm not sure what to do just yet. My father, he... he started my love for it all, but I suppose I'm still discovering what I'm capable of."  

I nodded slowly, though she seemed distracted by thoughts of her father. I recalled Sam mentioning in passing that her dad died when she was young, a famous archaeologist at the time. It was upsetting, but I didn't want Lara to feel like she had to share anything about that with me, so I didn't comment on it.

Instead, I said, "You're capable of a hell of a lot, Lara, I'm sure of it."

She hummed with amusement, lips curving into a smile as she glanced at me. It was clear she didn't believe me, but I hoped she would learn that for herself soon enough.

—

It all happened so quickly, it almost didn't feel real.

One minute I was reading in my cabin, the next a loud crash woke me up and water was flooding the room. It was chaos – the flashing lights, the roar of the ocean, the shouting from the crew – and I could feel hands guiding me out on the deck, towards a boat, but the ship was sinking way too quickly and a wave crashed over us and then nothing.

If I didn't wake up spluttering in the sand, I would've believed I'd died in the crash.

Coughs wracked my body as I spat out seawater in the dark, my eyes barely adjusting in the moonlight. Again, the roar of the ocean filled my ears and I could feel the water rising and falling at my feet where I must have washed up onshore.

It took me a moment to accept I was alive, and then another moment to understand what the hell had happened. I rose to my feet, turning around with wide eyes as I saw remnants of other boats, long-abandoned and crashed on shore. Where the hell was I? Where were the others?

My body was aching and my head was spinning, but I pushed that all aside as I looked around frantically, hoping to see anyone else. If I'd washed up here, surely they had too!

There was no sign of anyone near me and I looked ahead to see the forest, afraid to go anywhere near it, especially at night. But my hesitation was the perfect chance for a stranger to shout out into the night, startling me. I spun around, confused when I saw a creepy man walking towards me. Where the hell had he come from?

And why was he holding a gun?

My eyes widened as his pace picked up, and I didn't think twice as I ran away from him, using the density of the trees to hide my figure from his rising gun. He was shouting to some others, but I refused to stop running despite the bushes whipping me in the face and shredding my clothes.

Nothing was making sense, but I knew I definitely wasn't about to die on some random island.

When I was sure I'd put some distance between us, I hid behind a large tree, pressing my body to the tree trunk and holding my breath. Sweat coated my skin and I felt like I was about to pass out, but I had to find the others. And the only way to do that was to get away from this psycho island native who wanted to kill me.

Five minutes passed where I didn't move a muscle and I was sure I'd escaped, but then hands suddenly grabbed me, making my heart stop, and I was thrown to the ground.

"Where the hell d'you think you're going?" the man snarled from above me, sadistic grin forming on his lips.

I scrambled backwards on my hands, heart thumping in my chest. He pointed his gun at me and I stopped, no choice but to obey.

"Stand up," he ordered.

I swallowed thickly and began to stand slowly, aware of his deadly aim. "Please, I don't know who you are, but–"

"Shut up!" he said, smacking the gun across my face, taking me completely by surprise.

I blinked the stars from my eyes as he grabbed me by my shirt, holding me in place. He said nothing else as he began dragging me forward, but I knew I couldn't let him take me. If I was going to die, I'd at least let it be fighting.

Assuming I was still dazed, he paid no mind when I suddenly elbowed him in the gut. It was his turn to be surprised and I used that to try and take his gun, but he only shoved me off him with force.

Cursing inwardly and starting to panic, I turned around to run away again, but he shot his gun blindly and it skimmed my arm, both the noise and pressure making me falter.

I groaned as I clutched my arm, eyes burning with unshed tears, and then I felt the stranger wrestle me to the ground.

"You little bitch," he grunted, attempting to straddle me.

I kicked him, trying to flee, but all I succeeded in doing was knocking the gun from his hands. He shouted as he forced himself on me, straddling me and wrapping his hands around my throat.

My hands scratched at his skin, trying to make him budge, but he was squeezing so tightly that my breathing was getting cut off.

I tried grabbing around for something, anything, to defend myself with, but I couldn't feel anything nor move my head to see. I struggled, becoming lightheaded, terrified as this sicko's eyes watched from above with adoration, and then I felt it. Some sort of blade, dangling out the pocket of his trousers.

With one swift movement, I jammed it into the side of his head, making him yell and let go immediately. There was blood, I could feel it running down my hand, but I didn't stop as I jammed the blade into his head again, knocking him off me. I did it once more for good measure, the light leaving his eyes and the side of his head gushing with blood, and only when I was sure I was safe and could catch my breath again did I stop.

My throat was sore as I gasped, hand dropping the pocket knife, and that was when I felt the warm blood and looked down. Crimson soaked my hand, splattered across my skin. My eyes drew upwards to the dead body – the body I killed – and the combination of that, my nausea from the crash and the fact that I'd almost died made me throw up.

Tears streamed down my face as I wiped my mouth, body trembling, cold from the water. What had I done? How had I become a murderer so quickly?

My head whipped around when I heard male voices in the distance and I tensed up. Horrified, I got up and left the scene without lingering, running in the opposite direction as far as I could go before I was certain I was alone.

It was still so dark out, the forest becoming more and more terrifying as I stumbled further into it. My ears were perked up, listening for any sound of my friends or my attackers, but I couldn't hear a thing. It only dawned on me when I'd put a lot of distance between me and the body that I stupidly didn't grab the gun, so I found a large stick on the floor and kept a vice-like grip on it as I got more and more lost.

After what felt like forever but was probably only half an hour, I saw light in the distance and hesitantly approached. It was a campfire, which could be good or bad. But when I reached it, nobody was there. Strange.

I looked around cautiously before doing a once over of the ruins the campfire was in, worried I'd stumbled onto a hideout of my attackers. And then I heard a noise and my heart froze in my chest, panic settling in as I feared the worst.

Weapon in hand, I hid behind a crumbling wall, holding my breath for the second time that night. There were footsteps approaching and my grip tightened on the stick in my hand, ready to swing if need be.

As soon as the stranger stepped beside me, about to check my hiding spot, I leapt out and swung my stick with a scream. The stranger ducked just on time, and as I pulled back to swing again, they looked up at me with pleading eyes.

"Y/N!"

I paused, stick falling from my grasp when I recognised Lara standing before me.

"Oh my god, Lara," I blubbered, ever so relieved to see a familiar face, before meeting her halfway in a tight embrace. Half crying, I continued, "I'm sorry, I didn't know. I thought– they were following me and they– I–"

"It's okay, it's just me," she assured me, before pulling back slightly, and she looked as worse for wear as I felt.

Her eyes tracked my expression, down to my blood-splattered clothes, and I knew what she was thinking. Shame and guilt and fear all suffocated me under her gaze.

"I didn't mean to," I said weakly, shaking my head. "I didn't, but he was gonna– he tried to–"

"Hey, it's okay, I understand," she said with concern, pulling me in for another hug. "It's okay."

I tried to calm myself, but I couldn't stop trembling with both fear and relief. At least I wasn't alone anymore.

"You're hurt," I realised when I pulled back, spotting a dark patch on her shirt, where her stomach was. "Shit, Lara, are you–?"

"I'm fine," she said quickly, though her hand resting on the wound wasn't promising, neither was her rattled expression.

"Lara–"

"I think I know where the others are," she cut me off before I could question her. "We should find them. We're not alone out here."

Her tone of voice made me realise she'd had her own fight with some island natives. Was that how she'd gotten hurt?

I nodded, squeezing her hand as comfortingly as I could, considering. "Let's go."

—

The next two days were the worst of my life, of all of our lives, no doubt.

Sam had been taken by the island natives, who worshipped the Sun Queen, Himiko, which was coincidentally who this whole expedition was about. The island we'd washed up on was Yamatai, but nobody could have expected it to be this deadly. Lara and Dr. Whitman were separated from Jonah, Alex, Reyes and I, as were Roth and Grim.

I was certain we were going to die, especially when we were locked up in a cell, dangling like bait. But Lara did the impossible and saved us all, even bringing Sam back.

We escaped to a different part of the island where Reyes thought she could revive an old boat for us to escape on. But Lara thought it was impossible, theorising that the island was stopping us from leaving – that Himiko was. Naturally, Reyes thought she was insane, especially after we just lost Roth, Grim and Alex.

"It was your idea to come here and look what happened?!" Reyes shouted at Lara harshly.

"Reyes," Jonah said in a disappointed voice.

"What? It's true!" Reyes retorted without an ounce of remorse. "It was her idea to head in this direction. We're in this mess because of her!"

"That's not fair, Reyes," I said with a frown.

"No, she's right," Lara agreed with a neutral expression, giving nothing away. "This is my fault. But I'm telling you, even if we fix the boat, we won't be able to leave. I found something, a way we might be able to control the storms. But–"

"Save it," Reyes snapped. "I'll be fixing this boat and leaving. With or without you."

She stormed off as Jonah sighed and went after her. Meanwhile Sam gave me a knowing look before wrapping an arm around Lara.

"We aren't leaving without you," she promised, but Lara only sighed and shrugged Sam off.

"You won't be leaving at all unless we can control these storms," Lara pointed out. "I'm going to see what the caves reveal. A soldier's entry talks about something we can use."

"Lara," Sam said, meeting her eyes. "Can't you just–?"

"It's the only way, Sam," Lara said, and a hint of guilt was in her voice. "I'm gonna get us all home. I have to."

Sam frowned, but pulled her in for a hug. "Be safe."

"I will," Lara promised, squeezing her best friend.

Sam joined the others as I quirked a brow at Lara.

"What?" she asked, shuffling uncomfortably under my stare.

"You can't just go back out there, not when a bunch of crazy people are trying to kill us," I told her, stepping forward.

"Please, don't make me try to convince you too," Lara groaned.

"Reyes was wrong, what she said," I said, finding her eyes. "None of this is your fault. You couldn't have known–"

"We came because I thought I knew what I was doing," Lara cut me off abruptly, before flinching at the harshness of it. "I have to fix this."

I frowned, studying her guilt-laden eyes. She was too stubborn to listen to me, and annoyingly enough, I believed what she was saying about the storms and the island stopping us from leaving. There was something seriously paranormal going on. And if she could find a way to stop it, she should.

"Fine," I gave in, making her raise her brows. "But let me come with you."

She shook her head instantly. "I'll be quicker on my own–"

"Lara–"

"You'll only slow me down," she added.

"I can help, I'll be–"

"I said no!" she snapped, startling me. Closing her eyes briefly, she breathed out. "We've lost too many. I can't risk losing another. I won't have you dying on me, Y/N."

I took her hand in mine, glad when she opened her eyes to look at me. "And what about you? Who stops you dying on me?"

She pursed her lips, saying nothing, but the determination was still present and I knew I couldn't sway her.

"Be careful," I pleaded, pulling her in for a hug. "And come back. Please."

She nodded slowly, returning my hug. "I will."

[zoeykallus]

Hi! Hope you're doing well! Idk if your asks are open but in case they're, I'll leave my request here:

So recently I started crocheting again and I'm making a nice cozy blanket for my bf. Could you maybe do the Bad Batch (separately) + Mayday, if you can and want, reaction to their s/o knitting/crocheting and then gifting them something? (Could be a blanket, a scarf, whatever you like)

I hope you can do this request, I've always loved crocheting but I've been overwhelmed by work since the pandemic and I've noticed it took a toll on me lol. Byee!!

Aloha!

I was totally sure I did something like this before, and browsed through the (what feels like thousands) works of mine. Just to find out it was a seamstress thing, not crocheting, lol

Now crocheting is of course a different kind of thing, but let's see... I know I'm so late with this request! Sorry!

The Bad Batch x Reader HCs - Crocheted With Love

Warnings: None FLUFF

_________

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

_________

Hunter

He is fascinated by the calmness that emanates from you when you crochet something. Hunter admires your dexterity. Sometimes he sits down with you, leans back and watches you, relaxing completely. You chat gently about trivial things, enjoying the serenity of each other's presence. You have crocheted him a scarf out of very fine, thin wool, which he practically always wears. You have to wash and mend it quite often, the garment has to withstand a lot. But he loves this scarf, he would never give it up. Even if Crosshair teases him about it. The Sniper sneers, "Are we wearing new accessories now? Where's your matching purse?" Hunter chuckles calmly, "You're just jealous"

Echo

He watches, admiring how patterns slowly form from what you do, shapes. Time flies by, he doesn't even realize how long he's been sitting there until Tech impatiently calls out to him. Startled, Echo jumps up. "I'm coming!" You grin and look after him, naturally enjoying every bit of his attention, even if he's just watching you silently, fascinated. When he discovers the pretty woolen blanket you crocheted for him in his bunk that evening, he beams all over his face. "You made this for me?" "Of course," you say with a big smile. And of course, he snuggles up in his bunk with you to break in the new blanket.

Wrecker

As Omega has his Lula most of the time, you have crocheted a new one for Wrecker, as true to detail as possible. You don't want him to miss his old Lula. His eyes are almost overflowing with joy. "My own Lula? Just for me?" You beam at him happily and nod. "Just for you, big guy" Wrecker laughs and looks at your gift with a heart swelling with affection. Crosshair, who is just coming into the room, asks, "What new toy have you discovered?" Wrecker happily presses the new Lula into his face. "Look what I got as a present! Look at it! Look! Look!" Wrecker rumbles amusedly, pressing the cuddly toy into the Sniper's face again and again. Crosshair rolls his eyes and tries to dodge. "You're amazed, aren't you?" rumbles Wrecker cheerfully, "Jealous?" Crosshair grumbles sarcastically, "Very"

Tech

Everything that is new and that he doesn't know or hasn't learned yet fascinates him. Tech watches you for a while and then tries it out for himself. His dexterous fingers and alert mind quickly get the hang of it. It becomes a shared hobby that you practice together in quiet hours, sometimes you talk, sometimes you just enjoy each other's presence in silence, smiling at each other from time to time. Tech is always happy to receive any gift, but especially those made with care and love. He uses every blanket, every scarf and everything else you crochet for him only too gladly and with pride. He has someone by his side who cares about him, and these little gifts show that clearly for all to see. Tech really enjoys that.

Crosshair

Don't be fooled by his critical look, you should know by now that he almost always looks like this. His eyes follow the movements of your fingers with interest. Maybe he'll ask you a question or two about where you learned to do this, for example. However, he doesn't like to share your attention, not even with objects, so he may try to distract you from time to time because he wants you to engage with him. Sometimes he's a bit like a child who needs your attention. But in quiet moments he will sit with you, let you lean against him and watch you calmly. You know he's not the type for blankets, cuddly toys or scarves. So you've crocheted him the CF99 emblem with his name on it using the finest wool. As he accepts the gift, he looks at you questioningly and a little surprised. " I want you to always carry something of mine with you," you say gently. A smile twitches at the corners of his mouth as he tucks it under his armor. Since that day, he always carries the emblem with him, no matter where he goes.

Mayday

The moments you can enjoy in peace, you often have your legs tangled together while you crochet, covered with several of your homemade blankets, snuggled up together. Barton IV is a damn cold planet. Mayday likes to watch you and chat with you while you crochet. He is happy about every gift, scarves, gloves, hats, sweaters, because as I said before, it's damn cold on Barton IV and the Empire doesn't take very good care of its clones. His brothers also enjoy the little gifts you give them. You feel so sorry for the men who have to freeze so much at work every day. Mayday's heart is always beating faster when you crochet something new for him or his men. "You have far too soft a heart," he says gently. You smile and say, "Only because you keep it so nice and warm every day"

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaw

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

@jediknightjana

@pb-jellybeans

@antishadow2021

@sleepycreativewriter

@projectdreamwalker

@1vlouds

@clonelovr

[anawrites3]

“Is she mine?”

Sladick

This is a bit dark because I got into Apprentice Dick mood so watch out :3

Dick couldn’t breathe. He was frozen under the heavy gaze of that ice-cold eye, pinned underneath it with no way to escape.

“Is she mine?” Slade demanded, voice as hard as the set of his jaw when he ground his teeth together.

He wasn’t meant to be here. He wasn’t meant to learn about it, not a word and not a whisper. Dick made sure to leave no trails when he left and he was so sure- it was over the year-

The baby in his arm babbled softly and only that made Slade look away from him. Dick felt as if a spell had been lifted off of him and he hurriedly took a few steps back, cupping his hand more protectively around his babygirl’s head.

“How did you find me?” Dick breathed out.

Maybe he shouldn’t have spoken at all because fury lit up in Slade’s eye like a flame. The man stepped closer and Dick backed away instinctively but it didn’t take more than a few more steps before his back was pressed against a wall with no way to escape.

“Answer me!” Slade growled, slamming a hand against a wall. Dick flinched, immediately shoving at Slade’s chest to push him away, keep him away to not crush his daughter. “Is she mine?”

And there was no point in lying, was there? Slade already knew the truth, he always did yet he always asked anyway, just to hear Dick say the words.

“Yes.” He whispered, throat tight even without Slade’s hand around it. “Yes, she is.”

“And yet you dared to hide her from me.” The man drawled lowly, grabbing Dick’s jaw and forcing his head higher, high enough for their eyes to meet properly again. “You dared to lie and to run. You thought I’d never find out, didn’t you, little bird?”

And maybe Dick should drop to his knees and beg, beg to be spared and forgiven. Slade liked it when he begged – there was no way the man would just forgive him, not for a sin like that, but he could get more merciful if Dick pleaded enough. But Dick was so tired. So tired of running, of always looking over his shoulder.

“I hoped-” He sobbed, chest heaving where his girl was pressed to his heart. “I hoped to never see you again. I hoped to lose you and everything you did to me but I knew- I knew it won’t be possible. Not for as long as she’s with me and I- I could never leave her, even if she reminds me of you every time I so much as glance at her.”

His Master watched him shake and cry, watching him as if he was something fascinating. And maybe he was, to Slade. To the man who did his damned best to take everything from him, who continued to take from him even when Dick ran away to the other side of the world.

“I should punish you.” Slade murmured, when Dick’s sobbing quietened down to just hitched breaths. He wiped at the tears adorning Dick’s face, his touch mockingly gentle. “And I will. I will punish you, Apprentice. But not now. After all, you did take good care of her.”

Dick continued to cry as Slade caressed his face, pressing gentle kisses to his forehead and cheeks.

“Please-” He cried, gripping Slade’s shirt with shaking fingers. “Please- don’t hurt her-”

Because it would be the easiest way to hurt him, the easiest way to make Dick obedient-

“Shh.” Slade stroked his fingers along Dick’s cheek. “She’ll be safe, you have my word. You just need to learn your place first, little bird. But you don’t need to worry about anything – I’m here now. I’m going to take care of everything.”

And as Slade gently took his daughter away from his arms, Dick didn’t doubt for a second that it was true.

---

I'm going off hiatus soon and I'm really really looking forward to the Apprentice Dick challenge I mentioned some time ago right here! So stay tuned guys <3

oh and maybe it's a good time to drop my ko-fi link. We learned recently that we need to do some renovation so please consider tipping me <3 No pressure of course but it would mean the world to me <33

You can find my ko-fi right here

[satansapostle6]

fire and ice | james cook

Cook’s interest is piqued when an old childhood friend moves in across the street.

Warning: Mature themes/language. Drug use. Sexual content.

part one.

part two. the system.

“Oi! Tiff!”

Tiffany Wheeler turned around as she headed home from school, realizing Cook was following her, naturally.

“Cookie,” she remarked.

“Going home?” he asked her.

“Yeah,” she nodded.

“Me too,” he said with approval.

He walked by her side as they went in the same direction, heading back towards their shared neighborhood.

“Did you catch what that assignment was?” he asked her. “JJ had me distracted. Pulled a chocolate out of my ear. Don’t know where he found a chocolate…”

“Sure,” she nodded with sarcasm.

“What do you say, Wheeler?” he asked hopefully. “Help out your best mate? For old time’s sake?”

“Yeah. Whatever,” Tiffany scoffed.

“Alright!” Cook exclaimed enthusiastically. “Fuck yeah!”

Tiff just smiled as she walked, fully aware of Cook’s behavior.

“So, since you won’t be a good mate and shag me, how do I repay you?” he wondered. “Spliff?” he offered.

“Don’t love it, if I’m being honest,” she said as she plucked a cigarette from the pack she was holding and stuck it into her mouth as she lit it.

“Vodka, then?” he guessed. “Drugs?”

It was Tiff’s turn to give a mischievous grin, satiated by the offer.

“You’ve got a deal, mate.”

“Alright. Sorted,” he nodded, happy with their arrangement. “Come over to mine, then?” he invited her insistently.

“Yeah. Sure,” she agreed.

She objectively observed, somewhat fascinated, as he pulled out a spliff, loose somewhere in his pocket, smoking it out in the open as they walked home together. Tiff quickly realized that Cook constantly had to be doing something; if he was talking, he had to be loud, and animated.

If, for some reason, he wasn’t talking, he had to be active, running, or jumping, or otherwise doing something, like flicking or punching something. Cook had the mannerisms of a primary school student; he just needed to feel excited. All the time.

He found that he surprisingly didn’t mind Tiff’s silent, aloof demeanor, because even if she wasn’t speaking, she was always listening. And he liked to be listened to. Cook felt that Tiff had a unique way of fucking with people. It wasn’t in anything she said or did; it wasn’t in anything. Nothing about the way she would just stay there in silence was inherently wrong, or offensive, but just something about the space that she took up could make someone need more from her.

Cook kept rambling and raving throughout the entire walk to his house, secretly needing for Tiff to actually join in. She was speaking, of course, and fully engaging in whatever topic they had currently landed on throughout the entire ordeal, but she never brought herself up to his level and ranted or raved herself. She was almost always level, and cool.

“Say, Tiff,” Cook said as he sat down on his bed, passing her a half full bottle of vodka. “How come you moved back here?”

He remembered Tiffany Wheeler had moved away from Bristol just before their fourth year of primary school. At seven or eight years old, he had actually been quite disappointed when he didn’t see her that first day of school.

“My dad wanted to be close to the family again,” Tiff replied, searching her pockets as Cook held his hand out for the pack of cigarettes.

“Any reason why?” he asked curiously.

“You remember my brother, right?” she said as he took a cigarette.

“Yeah! Andrew, right?” Cook lit the cigarette. “What’s he up to?”

“He’s dead,” Tiff said matter-of-factly as he just stopped for a moment.

“Oh. Fucking hell,” James Cook remarked, seemingly genuinely taken aback. “When?”

“A… A few weeks ago,” she cleared her throat. “Or a month ago…? Honestly can’t remember, exactly. The funeral’s next weekend…”

“Jesus. Rest in peace,” he mumbled.

Tiff just nodded appreciatively. This was much more recent than he would’ve guessed. He began to feel guilty for his casual attitude, knowing he wasn’t exactly great with these things.

“How’d he die?” he asked, optimistically hoping for something standard like illness, or perhaps an accident.

“He killed himself,” she told him, seeming as if she was trying to spare Cook’s feelings more so than her own, which he found peculiar.

“Oh…” he thought awkwardly. “Was it peaceful?” he hoped.

“Car exhaust,” she informed him, as his face slowly twisted into an uncomfortable grimace. “Choked on exhaust fumes.”

“Oh.”

This certainly did not sound like a very ideal death to Cook, not that there really was any such thing.

“It’s alright. I can talk about it without turning into a weepy twat,” Tiff promised him.

Cook looked at her for a moment, nothing mischievous or teasing behind his eyes in that moment as he just nodded, silently conveying his unspoken apology for his general behavior.

“You know I, er… I remember Andrew. Sort of,” he offered. “He was a couple grades above us… Always trying to make friends with people. Drawing them pictures, and shit,” he recalled, taking a rough swig of vodka.

“Yep. That was Andrew,” Tiff nodded pleasantly. “Definitely Andrew.”

Cook did what he could to help, handing her the bottle as she accepted it gratefully, downing a decent amount of the foul-tasting alcohol as Cook handed her his cigarette.

“He was your best mate,” he said.

Tiff nodded. “Yeah,” she agreed pleasantly. “He was.”

Cook felt awkward and aimless in the heavy conversation, despite the fact that Tiff seemed complete fine. He took another long swig from the bottle, starting to really feel tingly in many different ways, between the spliff and the vodka.

“To Andrew,” he dedicated the thoughtful act of alcoholism.

She smiled, taking the bottle, compelled to drink more.

“To Andrew,” she echoed.

“Do you know why he killed himself?” Cook asked, past the point of knowing whether or not that was an appropriate question to ask.

Tiff strangely appreciated it, never having been asked that in conversation about it before.

“Yeah… I think so. Sort of,” she provided.

She thought for a moment before responding.

“He was… He was troubled. Fucked around with pills a lot. Like, a lot. I mean, I did too, but… He was just different. Like he knew that’s how it would all end, sooner or later,” she sighed. “I guess he chose ‘sooner’.”

“That’s right shit,” Cook shook his head.

Tiff nodded in agreement, finding his take almost profound in its own way. “Yeah. Yeah, it really is.”

“Was there something you think made him do it?” Cook inquired. “Like, something that set him off?”

“Oh, yeah,” Tiff nodded with certainty, a certain bitterness or irony to her tone. “Yeah.”

He listened silently, something he rarely did for anyone, curious to hear the answer.

“He, erm… He was spiraling, after college. Barely passed to begin with. It was all drugs and weird pastimes, every day. Sometimes he’d be gone for days at a time… Mum was at her wit’s end with him… She just didn’t know what to do,” she explained. “Hell, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she was the one to off herself.”

Cook still listened intently as she spoke, pondering on every word. He could tell this was a very recent and painful chapter in her life.

“Anyways. My brother. He was doing some really questionable shit, with really questionable people… It was fucked up. And I mean, fucked up. This guy, Seb, he used to party with? Rumor was, he would get fucked up on acid and do some crazy shit. I mean, like, dead cats crazy.”

“Jesus,” Cook thought, surprised at his own reaction.

“Mum had enough… She gave him an ultimatum. Either get his life together, and go to university, or get a job, at least,” Tiff recalled, “Or… he was out of the house,” she concluded.

Cook sat with this for a moment, not responding, just thinking as he tried to process. It took a considerable amount of silence, but he seemed to understand finally.

“So, Andrew…” the words strangely hurt him to say. “Your mum said he had to get his life together, so he killed himself?” he provided.

“Yep,” she nodded.

Cook gave her a funny look she’d never seen from him before in the short time she’d known him as an actual adult. It was almost a look of sympathy.

“Andrew… He would’ve rather have killed himself than try to live a healthy, functional life,” she admitted, an unimaginable pain in her eyes.

Cook truly had no idea how to respond.

“It’s fine,” she added quickly, her tone changing. “It’s whatever. My own brother would’ve rather have killed himself than stop doing drugs.”

“I’m sorry, Tiff,” Cook said after a pause, “If I’m being completely honest… I only got to talking to shag you.”

He waited guiltily for a response of any sort as she just looked at him for a while, fully aware of his patterns. Cook half-expected her to get uncomfortable in some way, or scream, or yell, or throw him out of her home, but she did no such thing. He watched in awe as she didn’t even seem to bat an eye at the confession.

“I figured,” she said, prompting him to wonder if this was all she had to contribute.

Completely flabbergasted, Cook began to spiral as he tried to communicate with her.

“You—You did?” he asked cautiously.

She nodded emptily, no longer worried about being allowed to attractive people. He still found himself praying she wouldn’t punch or disembowel him.

“Of course I did,” Tiff responded indifferently. “Most people only hang out with me because they want to shag me.”

“Yeah, I reckon so,” he said regretfully, a guilty expression on his face.

“But it’s okay,” she said, reading him easily. “I have a system; I always hang out with people at least three times. If they leave by then, then I know they just wanted to shag me.”

“But… what if they’re playing the long game?” Cook geniunely wondered.

“Well, at that point,” she thought. “If I want to shag them, then, I do.”

A large grin slowly spread across Cook’s face as he shifted the mood back to lighthearted stupidity.

“So, what if I’m still here after the third time?” he proposed excitedly.

“Then I’ll know you’re an idiot,” Tiff concluded.

-

part three.

[toruro]

Are you taking 'who in svt' asks? If so, who in svt do you think would like nipple piercings on their partner? Just got mine done for a birthday present to myself and it has already done so much for my confidence 🤌🤌

who in svt — partner w/ nipple piercings

tags/warnings: sexual content (18+), just lots of boobs, slight implication of corruption kink (?!?!)

a/n: yes! i do take 'who in svt' requests c: glad you're confident in yourself and happy late bday <3 i hope u enjoy

jeonghan

you're a bit of a shy girlfriend, and a boyfriend like jeonghan just loves to coo over how adorable you are. he takes his time with you always, so when you two finally talk about it and you're ready to take you're relationship to the next level, he is thoroughly surprised to see your nipples pierced. not in a bad way—fuck no—in fact, his eyes would nearly pop out of his head before he's smirking playfully. "aww, maybe my cute girl isn't so innocent after all," he'd murmur, flicking one of your nipples causing you to let out a gasp. you'd shake your head and mumble, "hannie, 'm you're good girl." he's bring his head down and close his mouth over one of your tits and run his tongue over the metal bar, nodding, "'course you are baby. such a good girl, you know exactly what i like." the night would be full of jeonghan holding back the urge to literally devour you and he'd insist on only missionary so he can watch your overstimulated tits just bouncing back and forth, loving the way he can just reach down and play with them.

jun

the biggest boob man ever. loves your tits sososo much that you getting a nipple piercing would just give him even more of a reason to stare at them. i imagine that you would surprise him with them for like an anniversary or something, as in you'd get them a while before the day and after your anniversary dinner, he'd take you home and your cunt would pool with excitement as he slowly slips off your top and bra. he'd literally go still looking down at the bar pierced through your nipple, and say something like, "baby, you did this for me?" and you'd nod your head because while you'd been thinking of getting one before you were with jun, his love for your tits was what pushed you to actually getting it done. let me tell you the way this man would have either his hands or mouth CONSTANTLY on your boobs for the rest of the night is insane. they'd be sore from still being recently pierced but the stimulation would have you going crazy. and even after that night, i feel like would sometimes just lift up your shirt when you're cuddling and literally just stare at the piercings. in general, of all the members i feel like jun would appreciate a nipple piercing the most.

minghao

now hear me out because i actually had to put in a lot of thought into this but like then i remembered that minghao has that thigh tattoo and then i was like hmm he'd love someone who is adventurous with their body, but in ways that are a little bit hidden—aka a nipple piercing. i imagine you would have it before you got with him, and minghao being the gentleman he is, would take some time before getting intimate with you. he'd be so fucking surprised the first time you rip off your shirt and bra in front of him, revealing your pierced nipples shyly. you seemed to be such a cute and innocent girl and this just shows a whole new side to you that minghao finds painfully hot (although it's not as if he didn't find you hot before). would waste no time running his deft fingers over the metal bar, looking between your tits and your eyes with an intense gaze, saying, "you've been keeping these a secret from me, angel?" to which you'd only be able to whimper in response from the way he's skillfully playing with your tits. overall would pay so much attention to them, and would be super fascinated and (pleasantly) curious too.

[13as07]

Friends #3

(Rock Lee & Shikamaru Nara)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to Maxiuchiha22]

Requested by: Anonymous

Word Count: 3,699

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Love Triangle

Name Calling: Pretty Girl, Good Girl

Sprinkle of Toxic Power Play

Sexual Tension

Unspecified Praying

Mentions of Scratch Marks

Asuma and Neji aren't dead cause I said so :)

Also, forever a believer that the Nara men call their women "Pretty Girl"

———————————————————————

Shikamaru's eyebrows are pushed together, annoyance coating his expression. He's kneeled down, hands busy messing with the bands of my safety vest, making sure they're done right. As always, Choji is oblivious to his best friend's recent fascination with me but it doesn't slide past Ino, who's side eyeing the hell out of us.

Sensei is outside of the room, on the other side of the door having a hushed discussion with whatever Sensei is responsible for the squad we'll be working with on this mission. The mission isn't a difficult one, just high profile, but that comes with any mission dealing with the family of another village's Kage.

"Why don't you tighten any of your straps? It's a drag having to fix them for you. Do you know how unsafe that is?" Shika lectures, a grumbly sigh being huffed out after my lesson on safety.

     "Says the man who smokes a pack a day," I poke back, using the bad habit he's picked up from his father and Sensei alike. "That's not any safer."

     "I don't smoke a pack a day. Three or four max."

     "Per hour, maybe." Shikamaru's sharp eyes jump up to glare at me, slit and stressed and such a temptation to keep pushing his buttons.

     The no-sex rule we agreed on last week during our heavy conversation about us was a dumb idea, and one I'm currently regretting. Why I agreed to that term during the walk home from the drugstore is beyond me. Whatever my thoughts were conjuring up then is no match for how sexy Shika looks on his knees, hands on my hip, mixed with the rooted glare on his face.

He's his sexiest while strategizing. Calm face, determination in his features, and not a single detail escaping the watchfulness of the melted bronze that make up his irises. But, stressed Shika is a close second. A very close second.

Slowly, he climbs back to his full height, keeping the close quarters between us as he stands. A tad of humor burns the edges of his expression, an expression I get a close look at as he inches his face closer to mine.

"Pretty Girl." The nickname comes out chilled despite the heavy humidity between us. "You are being both a bad shinobi and a bad clan member. Good girls don't mock their squad leader or their future chief." The slight squeeze of my thighs doesn’t go unnoticed, noted by a tip of Shika's lips as he pulls away from me.

The harsh whispers between the two of us caught more of Ino's attention, her nose scrunched and eyes swimming in confusion as they flicker between the two of us. "What was that about?"

     "Somebody doesn't understand respect," he answers, sending me another pointed look. Shika settles against the wall, his body relaxed and counteracting the sharpness still present in his slit eyes. Even with our little heated moment, he's still focused on the mission. Definitely his father's son.

     "With a squad leader like you, you can't really expect us to know what respect is, can you?" Choji teases with a slight chuckle in his voice, his focus on us now that his rice ball has been finished off.

     "Shut up, Choji," Shika grumbles, his head rolling back, finally dragging his loaded stare off of me. I'm both glad not to be the center of his attention anymore and a bit unhappy with the torn-away heat of his stare, but I guess I shouldn't complain about the calm before the storm our mission is sure to bring.

     The storm that's here a lot sooner than I expected. Just as everything is evening out, the door comes crashing open, slamming against the wall as it swings. "Hello, Team Ten! Team Gai is here to assist!" Might Gai yells, his excitement about everything including life itself shattering the relaxed vibe of the room.

All the chill from Shikamaru's position is gone, his muscles tight, especially his shoulders and his eyes heated again, but not in the way they warm up when looking at me. No, in the way that makes me fear he's going to burn Gai into a pile of ash. "You have to be kidding."

"I am just as unpleased with the situation as you are," Neji's monotoned voice filters into the room, a one-eighty to the sunshine and rainbows his Sensei oozes.

"Speak for yourself, Neji. I'm thrilled to be working with Team Ten."

If Shika's eyes could burn Gai to ash, they're now unleashing a thousand paper bombs on Lee, his temper hot enough I half expect actual flames to fill the sockets of his eyes.

Lee is unfazed by the glare my... I don't know what Shikamaru is to me anymore.

Lee is unfazed by the glare my future Chief is sending him, a full smile on his face and full attention on me. "I look forward to spending time with you again, Lotus-Chan, even if it is work-related."

"She told you to stop calling her that," Shikamaru butts in before I can reply, his tone not giving away any of the anger burning through his veins.

Dear Lord, help us on this trip. Or, at the very least, don't let Shika come up with any crazy ways to 'accidentally' get Lee killed.

"Oh, right," Rock giggles, his nervous playing between the two words. "My apologies. Still, I look forward to working with you again, Nara-San."

"I'm glad," I utter, trying my best to plaster a smile on my face.

For the most part, I've gotten over my little fling with Lee, chalking it up to miscommunication of my feelings caused by my enjoyment of his attention and the lack of Shika's attention because of his recent time spent with Tamari.

     Now, with both the guys in the room, the only thing I can think about is running my fingers through Shikamaru's hair until he calms down. Lee isn't even a wisp in my thoughts.

     "Great," Sensei drags out, looking at Shika with a mix of 'What the hell?' and 'What’s going on?' written on his face. "Great, I'm so glad we're all so excited to work together," he softly cheers, a bit of a hiss poking out and aiming at our squad leader.

     "Me too!" Gai cheers, hooking an arm around Asuma's neck and yanking him down a bit. "This is going to be so fun!"

Dear Lord, please let me survive this mission, both physically and mentally.

———————————

Good note: Shika hasn't killed Lee yet. Bad note: the atmosphere is packed so full of his loathing that even Choji notices.

As I suspected, the mission isn't too difficult. The Tsuchikage's daughter seems to be at ease, too wrapped up in her one-sided flirting with Sensei to care much about her safety. Neji and Shika are on each other a bit, the two big brains pulling teeth to agree on anything. Aside from that, it's been a breeze. No attacks, no signs of enemies, and plenty of empty space to fill.

Gai is busy hounding Choji with failing attempts to get him to join his work-out regiment. Tenten and Ino are talking about her upcoming wedding with Sai. Shika and Neji are fighting again, debating where the next stop should be. That leaves Lee and me silent, the boy standing two people away from me without a lick of an attempt to hide his staring.

I keep my eyes forward, trying to focus on scanning the dark forest for any possible threats. It's better than stressing about Shika's constant fighting or Lee's constant attention on me. I can't ignore it for long though, the latter of the boys slowly weaving his way over to me.

"Hello, Lotus - er - Nara-San," he greets, his usual huge smile on his face. "How's this side of the carriage."

"About as eventful as your side," I answer, sparing him a tight worn smile.

Rock doesn't pick up on my silent command to leave me alone. Instead, he keeps up his loose posture and grinning expression. "I'm not too sure about that. It seems Neji and Shikamaru are about ready to brawl."

My eyes flicker forward, taking a peek at the two squad leaders. For once, Neji is actually expressing emotion. Anger, most definitely, but still an emotion. Shika on the other hand seems relatively calm, nothing but the spark of a new challenge in his eyes. I swear those two mix like water and oil.

"That would be a wonderful sight to see."

"Not as wonderful as seeing you," Lee answers, instantly making my nose turn up. There was a time I would have been thrilled to have him flirt back, but now all I can think about is how cheesy the line is and how Shikamaru would never waste his breath on something so overused.

Shika isn't much of a romantic, even less so when it comes to words, but he picked up his father's gift of speaking in ways that make poets jealous. There are reasons Shikaku is happily married and why his specific lineage is in charge of the Naras. Brains, bronze, and words able to affect others are those reasons. All reasons why his son is suitable to take over. All reasons why his son makes my heart and core burn in equal but different ways.

"But anyway," Rock starts up again, his attention tearing away from our squad leaders to focus on me again. "I really am happy to be working with you again. I know we haven't been..." his words cut off, a soft exhale and a shrink of his smile filling the gap. "I know a lot has happened between us recently and I respect your decision to take some space, but I do miss you. I miss talking to you and seeing you and getting to hang out."

     My mouth clicks open, the words for a response stuck in my throat. Just as I finally muster the different syllables onto my tongue, I'm cut off. "Ya? Would you miss my foot up your ass too? Or maybe you just miss the makeout sessions. Is that what it is? Do you miss having a Pretty Girl fill the void of Sakura's rejection?"

     All of a sudden, everything seems eerily quiet, like everything on and off the dirt path is watching the interaction unfolding.

"Hey, Shika," Lee greets, his voice weary and his eyes slowly peeling off of me.

"You don't get to call me that. She," Shikamaru motions towards me, eyes softening for a beat before they're back on his newest sworn enemy. "Gets to call me that. Hell, Ino and Cho could call me that if they wish. You don't." Before the older boy can answer, Shika's hand is around the arm loop of my vest, using it to tug me away for Lee.

After a step or two he freezes, slowly turning to look over his shoulder. "And another thing, for someone who says they 'respect her decision to take some space', you're not giving her any space. Learn to read body language and when the time is to back off," he hisses, pairing the lecture with another glare before continuing to yank me toward the front of the carriage.

Shikamaru finally lets me go once I'm situated in the front of the group, sandwiched between Neji and himself. The other squad leader flickers his eyes between the three of us, trying to read the situation before he comments on it. "Our teams may not get along, but I don't believe threatening those here to assist your mission is the smartest strategy you've had."

"I don't think poking at my anger is the smartest strategy you've had either so I guess we're even," Shika hisses, his glare now cemented on Neji instead of Lee.

Dear Lord, when I asked you not to let Shikamaru kill Lee, I didn't mean to let him kill Neji instead.

———————————

My eyes roll over Shikamaru, watching his reaction as he reads over the letter delivered to him a few minutes ago. His eyes are glued to the sheet, hands pressed into a triangle, and face scrunched in concentration. Slowly, I crawl across the length of my tent, settling on my knees behind him.

He's rooming with Choji and Ino was supposed to room with me, but she ended up switching and rooming with Tenten. I partly believe it's because she's catching wind of what's going on - which wasn't aided by the heated arguments earlier - but I also partly think it's because Tenten is more interested in the wedding details than I am.

With the change, Shikamaru had no shame sliding out of his tent and into mine to spend some time with me. Well, time that got interrupted by the letter from his father.

"If you keep thinking so hard you might blow a fuse," I lightly tease, sliding my hands up to start massaging his shoulders. They're littered with tension, giving me plenty of knots to rub out for him. "Why are you so stressed?"

     "You don't need to worry about it. I have it all under control," he mutters, his shoulders relaxing under my touch. "You don't need to carry my stress around too, Pretty Girl. You have enough on your plate because of Lee and me."

"Your dad is still my Chief, Shik. It's my job to serve him," I whisper, tipping my head forward to paint lazy kisses up his neck. "Even if I don't serve him in the ways I serve you."

The double meaning of the word doesn't get lost in translation, evident in the hissy breath Shikamaru lets out. "We have an agreement for a reason," he utters, his body loosening even more despite the fact the head on his shoulders is keeping control. "I don't want your emotions and thoughts getting confused even more. Especially with Lee's constant attention and attempts at buttering you up."

"Lee isn't the man in my tent though," I coo, slowly trailing my hands off his shoulders and across his back, adding pressure to the scratches that have started to heal.

"I am now!" A chirpy voice rings out, shattering the heavy atmosphere that was starting to form. Slowly, Shikamaru and I both turn to look at the opening of my tent, being met with a toothy Lee. "What are you two up to?"

Shika tenses under my touch, sucking in a deep breath before slowly exhaling it. "Clan matters," he answers for us, wanting to keep whatever we are between the two of us until the whole love triangle thing is squared away for good.

"Oh, is everything okay back home?"

"Ya, it's fine. Just a small issue," Shika grumbles, tipping his head backward to gently knock it into mine. "I'm going to go relieve Sensei. Call if you need me."

"I will," I murmur, resting my head against his until he pulls away. Shikamaru takes longer than needed to get up and leave the tent, but I'm not surprised. Lee seems to be the biggest and easiest thing to get him worked up recently.

"Hello," I greet once I'm sure Shika has walked away and that we're alone.

     "Hello," Rock echoes, taking slow and steady steps forward. Once he's no more than a step away, he sinks to the ground, sitting next to me on the floor of the tent. "So... Shikamaru is a little... protective of you."

     "He always has been," I murmur, snatching up the letter left behind. It's technically not a lie. Shika and I have always been close, attached at the hip most of our lives. He knows every inch of me inside and out. The thought mixed with memories of our less-than-appropriate times together makes my skin heat up with the reappearing craving for the Nara Prince.

     "Ya, that's true," Lee whispers, his voice seeming far away even though he's close enough that our knees touch. "Anyway," he chirps, head tipping toward me. "I want to apologize for earlier." I slowly blink as I stare at him, not sure what he thinks he needs to apologize for. "The fight and all," he explains before I can ask, a loose smile hanging on his face.

     "Oh."

     "I should have known you were going to tell Shikamaru and that he was going to be all jump-ity about me until things smooth out between the two of us. Especially after the whole scene at the store and all." Lee's shoulders jump up before falling back down again, a soft shrug to pair with his soft grin. "I'm sorry we got in another fight and that you had to be around for it again. I know how important he is to you."

     "It's not that big of a deal, Lee. Shika will chill out after he's certain I'm over it all."

"Are you over it all?" He asks, the happiness falling from his face and being replaced with the rare seriousness Lee possesses. "I hope you're not over everything."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, turning my attention away from the letter I've been roughly scanning, focusing my full attention on Lee. Like Shikamaru said, it's just a minor issue with the clan. Some way, shape, or form, someone misplaced a hundred pounds of venison and the Chief wanted to know if -

Before I know it, Lee's lips are pressed against mine, his hand gently cupping the side of my face. My body freezes, not a hundred percent sure what's going on, much less what to do about it. After a few beats, he inches away from me, still close enough that I can feel his soft breaths. The thumb pressed to my cheek rubs soft circles into my skin as his eyes roll over my face, waiting and watching for my reaction.

Dear Lord, it's me again. Are you actively trying to get Shik to murder Team Gai? If so, you're doing an amazing job.

———————————

     "He what?!" Shikamaru yells, pulling the attention of our whole mini campsite to us.

     "It's not that big of a deal," I whisper, eyes flickering around to see if everyone really is staring or if it just feels like that. Eight sets of eyes are on us; it's not the latter.

     I knew Shika wasn't going to take the events of last night well, but I didn't think he'd get this worked up either. He's oozing more hatred than he has the whole trip, everything from his eyebrows down to his chest are pulled tight with tension, dark eyes slit more than usual and seeping into my soul as he looks at me. “I’m going to kill him.”

“No!” I yelp, trying to spring forward fast enough to grab him. I’m not fast enough. Shikamaru’s breakfast is disregarded on the ground, the man standing up and already two steps closer to Lee before I manage to scramble onto my feet. “It really isn’t that big of a deal!” I repeat, racing after him.

My arms wrap around him when I come into contact with him, my feet dragging and digging into the ground to try and stop him or at least slow him down. Neither happens. Shikamaru keeps trudging forward, skin burning and mind twirling with different ways to hurt Lee.

“It is a big deal,” he hisses, eyes locked on the man of the hour. “You asked for space and what does he do? Try to make out with you. I’m giving you space, do you know why? Because it’s not that goddamn hard.”

Neji stands up from his spot next to his best friend, chest puffed out but his usual calmness still in place. “It is too early in the morning for your attitude problem, Shikamaru. Honestly, for the laziest man in our generation, you sure have enough energy for your anger.”

Shika stops for a second, a sharp grin carving onto his lips. “Sit down, Neji, this doesn’t concern you.”

Before the other squad leader can respond, Shik has already thrown up a hand sign, one of his shadows wrapping around Neji’s legs and yanking on him until he falls back into a sitting position. The shadow stays wrapped around the man as I’m dragged forward again, the angry cloud back to his main mission.

“Hello,” his voice comes out dangerously cool, like a sharp end of an icicle. Shikamaru grabs a hold of Lee, balling up his body suit to drag him into a stand.

“Shika, please,” I whisper, tightening my arms around his waist. “This whole jealousy thing isn’t cute. It’s fine, really. Can’t you just leave it be?”

“I’m not jealous,” he utters, his main focus still on Lee who’s trying to fight free from his grasp. It’s a task he’s failing, courtesy of more shadows helping Shikamaru hold him in place. “If you want to be with Lee, fine. As your friend and your future chief, I want you happy first and foremost. I would prefer it to be with me but if it’s not, fine. I won’t force you into my arms or walk away from our friendship if you don’t choose me.”

“What I won’t do is let Lee repeatedly ignore your boundaries. Constantly shoving himself into your life like a goddamn thorn does that. Forcing you into a kiss does that too. That’s not giving you space. That’s forcing you into a situation you don’t want to be in. So, no, I won’t leave it alone.” Shika’s jaw is tight enough that I’m worried it’s going to lock and his knuckles are so white from his grasp that I’m surprised they haven’t popped yet.

“Walk away, Pretty Girl. It’s my job to take care of you, remember? I’m always focused on you.”

I let out a slow and deep exhale, reluctantly unlatching from Shikamaru. Once he’s free, he wastes no time walking away, dragging Lee along with him. Our Senseis fill in my gap, both of the older men racing after him and yelling at him to stop.

Dear Lord, I’m here to ask you again, don’t let Shikamaru kill Lee. Though, I’m pretty sure he’s going too.

———————————————————————

———————————————————————

[yoomiwrites]

Stray ²

Summary: A two-shot about Ichiji and female Reader. About him, how he is fascinated by a lower stray without understanding it. His point of view. No warnings, but possessive behavior. From the year 2022.

Note: I just wanted to break Sugar Rush with some other old work, so yeah, we're getting there. Part 1

The dining hall was dimly lit, the heavy atmosphere typical of the Vinsmoke family’s meals. Ichiji sat at the long table, silent as always, his sharp eyes scanning over the reports in front of him. Niji leaned back in his chair with a smirk, casually throwing a glance at Ichiji.

"You know, brother," Niji began, a sly grin spreading across his face, "I heard something interesting recently."

Ichiji didn’t look up. He didn’t care what Niji had to say, especially when it came with that tone. Niji always spoke like he was holding a secret, something he could use to poke at the others. Annoying.

"About you, actually," Niji continued, enjoying the sound of his own voice. "Something about a stray you’ve been seeing in the kingdom? Some lowlife girl?"

Ichiji’s eyes flicked up for just a moment, but his expression remained calm. Unbothered. Niji was fishing, as usual. He didn’t have time for his brother’s games.

"Don’t know what you're talking about," Ichiji replied flatly, going back to the reports.

But Niji wasn’t about to drop it. He chuckled, leaning forward on the table. "Come on, you really think I wouldn’t notice? You’ve been slipping away more often than usual. We’re supposed to be allies with this kingdom, and you’re out spending time with some piece of street trash? I didn’t think you cared for the company of people like that."

Ichiji’s jaw tightened ever so slightly. He didn’t care about her. She was just...something to pass the time. Someone who had managed to catch his attention for reasons he didn’t fully understand. But Niji was twisting it, trying to get a reaction.

"She’s nothing," Ichiji said coldly. "A nuisance. I’m just making sure she doesn’t cause any problems."

Niji laughed, clearly not buying it. "Sure. 'Nothing.' You know, I saw her the other day." He leaned in, his voice dropping, dripping with mockery. "She’s got a pretty face for a stray. I wouldn’t mind having some fun with her. Break her in a bit, you know?"

Ichiji’s hand froze, his fingers gripping the edge of the table.

Niji, oblivious to the shift in the air, continued with a grin, "Bet she’d lose that defiant little spark real quick once I had my hands on her. What do you think, Yonji? Think she’s worth—"

"I suggest you stop talking."

The words were sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. Niji paused, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. Ichiji’s voice was colder than usual, and there was something else beneath it. Something dangerous. For the first time in the conversation, Niji realized that he might’ve struck a nerve.

Yonji, sitting across from them, raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the tension. "Whoa, what’s this? Getting worked up over a little stray? Don’t tell me you’ve got some feelings for the girl." He grinned, leaning back with a smug look. "But hey, if you’re not going to do anything, I wouldn’t mind—"

"She’s mine."

The room went silent. Ichiji’s voice had dropped, low and possessive, his usual calm mask breaking for just a second. He hated the way his brothers were talking about her. Hated it in a way that surprised even him. They had no right to speak about (Y/N) like that, no right to even think about touching her.

Niji blinked, the smirk faltering on his lips. "Yours?"

"Yes," Ichiji said, his tone cold and final. "She’s mine. Don’t touch her."

For a moment, Niji seemed genuinely shocked. Then, slowly, a smile crept back onto his face, though it was more cautious this time. "Well, well. Looks like big brother’s finally decided to play with the rest of us. Didn’t think you’d be the possessive type."

Ichiji stood, his chair scraping against the floor as he moved. He didn’t bother responding to Niji’s taunts. There was no need. His mind was already made up. (Y/N) was his. He didn’t care what she thought about it, didn’t care what anyone thought. He had tolerated their strange interactions long enough, but now that his brothers had dared to touch the subject, dared to suggest something as vile as taking her for themselves—something in him had snapped.

She was his.

No one else could have her. Not Niji, not Yonji, not anyone. He would decide her fate. He would take her, keep her close—like a pet, he reasoned. Yes, that’s all it was. A stray needed someone to take care of them, didn’t they? Someone with power and control. And he was the only one who could do that.

He was only protecting what was his. Nothing more.

Ignoring the smug looks from Niji and Yonji, Ichiji left the dining hall. His steps were steady, purposeful, as his mind raced. He was going to find her. Take her with him. No more games, no more leaving her to wander aimlessly in the kingdom like she had any choice in the matter. She belonged to him now, whether she realized it or not.

And if she resisted? Well, he’d make sure she understood. One way or another.

[thrashkink-coven]

*TW: Sexual content, Minors DNI*

A recording of an intimate experience I had with Lord Lucifer.

I’m just vibing by Lucifer and Aphrodite’s altar. My old deity candle for Lucifer was close to being burnt out so I did a little ritual to bless a new candle in front of my Aphrodite sculpture (yay!!! I’m still very excited about that)

And Lucifer was extremely active, which was really nice. I ended up writing a few grimoire pages with his help and it was a cool vibe. Then Lucifer’s presence absolutely overwhelms me and the entire space. He comes in a very breathy whisper and his energy is hot and smouldering rather than smooth and warm like usual. It’s intimidating. I almost wonder if I’ve done something wrong

Lucifer: I want to have you

Me: I’m here, my lord! ❤️ whatever you want!

Lucifer: no, I want to have you, all of you, it’s been too long since we last had each other. I want to remind you how dear you are to me

Me: 😳 (aaaa!!!!) what can I do for you?

Lucifer: There’s a pink toy you got recently that I haven’t blessed yet. Let me put my hands upon it so I may put my hands on you. Make the room completely dark except for the light of my candle. Abandon your dress. Pray for Aphrodite’s comfort while I dominate you. Say my enn and give yourself to me completely.

me, trying not to explode from excitement: Yes, my lord, of course

Lucifer: you are too good to me, sweet creature of mine. (!!!) Please relax and clear your mind, let all troubles escape you. You don’t need to think, I’ll take care of everything. If you must have a thought let it be of how wonderful you are.

He makes me look in the mirror as I honour him, bowing before my altar as an act of self worship. I look up and see his blazing eyes looking down on me, terrifyingly gorgeous. My body becomes a temple of flesh, a chalice to be filled with bliss. I can’t help but think of my partner, and he applauds me for this, reminding me of how sweetly Venus has blessed me.

*Deep into trance the vivid feeling of snakes slithering up my thighs and gentle light enveloping me is almost too much to take. Never have I been embraced so tenderly by him before. And the deep whispers of his breathless voice twinkle in my ears, soothing and encouraging me towards climax. “You are my dear devotee, I am forever close to you” Through every step he directs me and praises me, telling me how good I’m doing, how impressed he is and how much he appreciates me. “Look at how amazing you are. How have I been blessed with a devotee so wonderful?” I feel as if I am floating and falling at the same time, all the singing voices of the wind harmonize as his candle burns tall. He celebrates every curve of my body, and we both call out to Aphrodite.*

I sleep soundly for hours, feeling as though I am laying in a field of flowers, blanketed by his warmth and love. He caresses my hair softly, thanking me, until I awake just in time to watch the evening star rise into the sky. When my lover arrives home from work he seems even more beautiful than when he left this morning. Oh gods. I’m overwhelmed by how much I love him. And suddenly I feel beautiful too, and we cook dinner and relax on the balcony together as Hesperus rises. Later in the evening I show him everything Lucifer taught me and hopefully bestow him even a tenth of my bliss. I thank Venus for blessing me with such beautiful, marvellous things, and know that I am well deserving of them. I remember why I am his, and I revel in the fact.

Thank you Lord Lucifer, my love. I am beyond blessed to be with you.

These experiences don’t always come often but I am always fascinated by them whenever I’m lucky enough for them to occur.

aaaa ❤️💕♥️💗💖💞💓💜♥️💕💘

Hail Venus!!!! 💖 :))

update, (i haven’t even finished writing this post yet omg) I ordered a new collar for Lucifer on Aphrodisia after he requested one and I swear to gods I just got a cheque in the mail for the exact amount I paid for it. So I basically just got it for free! AND my bf got me chocolate chip cookies for dessert 😭 I am definitely being baby girled)

[lovinglyinlove]

suna rintarō had come to your dorm because he was astonishingly bored.

and in his mind, what better person to get rid of his boredom than his lovely girlfriend?

when he texted you about it and you answered with a "of course rin, you don't even have to ask" he felt excited. you had been friends for about one year now, but only recently started dating, and he wasn't very sure how to behave. but he was relieved to observe that you both were conserving the main aspect of your friendship that was complete trust on each other.

before arriving to your dorm though, rin went to the nearest market to buy you your favourite snacks. after all, his mother had taught him since he was a little boy that showing up to somebody's house empty-handed was disrespectful. not to say that he didn't absolutely enjoy pampering you, in fact it was one of his favourite things to do.

when suna reached his destination and you opened the door with a radiant smile, he couldn't resist hugging you and giving you a small kiss.

"I want to cuddle. I really need to cuddle you, I even brought snacks." he said while pouting like a kid. you couldn't resist that pretty face.

letting out a small laugh, you grabbed his hand and led him to your bed after closing the door. rin was clinging to your body with every step of the way.

when you finally managed to arrive at the foot of your bed without falling, you turned around to stare at suna.

"I missed you so much rin." you announced while attentively observing his beautiful green eyes.

"I missed you too babe, a lot." he said "and I would appreciate it if we could have this conversation in your bed. hugging each other. and eating the stuff I brought."

"alright you big baby." you replied while wrapping yourself around him and bringing him down to your bed with you.

there, with your arms and legs around his body, and the sweet perfume of your comforter, he felt safe and cozy.

after stuffing your faces with the gummies and candy that suna had brought, you decided to watch a show in your computer. the computer laid on your legs while your back was resting on suna's chest. this allowed him to hug you and kiss you anytime he pleased. and he absolutely took advantage of this embrace. he delivered small pecks anywhere he could reach. the back of your head, your cheeks, the corner of your lips, your shoulders and even your hands.

the entirety of the episode of the show was spent like that and both of you cherished it with your hearts.

once the episode finished, you got up to use the bathroom leaving suna alone in the comfort of your bed. but soon enough, curiosity invaded rin and he got up to discover the wonders of your tiny dorm.

everything in your room was so you, suna thought while he was playing with the pens on your desk. the colours of the walls, the small carpet, your extremely tidy desk, the tray where you kept your perfumes and makeup, and the books on the shelf. and he was completely fascinated.

but there was one item that always called his attention when he came over. one thing that he always found himself looking at. and that was your guitar. your stunning glossy black electric guitar.

rin doesn't know how to play guitar. but he always had wanted to learn. so, he picked your guitar up and decided to try to play a song. a long time ago, when he was bored out of his mind, he had watched a video on how to play 'R U mine?' and he had convinced himself that it looked fairly easy to attempt.

quickly enough, he realised playing guitar was not easy and that the song was in fact, complicated, especially for someone who had never touched an instrument before. i mean, there was an obvious reason why rin was a volleyball player and not a musician.

as soon as you came out of the bathroom, suna looked up at you with his face resembling one of a lost puppy.

"can you please play a song for me? I just bruised my own ego." he told you while smiling.

giggling, you sat next to him and took the guitar out of his hands.

"any requests?"

"just something slow, baby. nothing too crazy"

smiling up at him, you started to play a song. and just like that, rin became absolutely enchanted. he was mesmerized with the way your fingers moved on the strings and was fascinated with the song you were playing.

in the middle of listening to you, a thought occurred to him, he loved you. he loved you so much, he felt it everywhere, from his head to his toes. but he wouldn't say anything, he didn't want to scare you and at the same time, he didn't want to interrupt the lovely song you were playing.

A/N?: after a long time, I finally wrote something. It's the first day of the year in my country so happy new year??

[neil-neil-orange-peel]

A word on Rik Mayall today...

I recently rewatched the 1984 Wogan interview where Rik does a set as Rick and then an interview as himself. I've always loved the contrast between the oblivious vulnerability we're shown in Rick and the nervous, unguarded energy we glimpse in Rik. I must have watched the video so many times, but it'd been a while since my last viewing, I must admit.

There is something beautiful and raw about Rik and his comedy, especially when looking back at his earlier performances - where he hadn't quite figured out who he wanted to be to the world yet. The way he flits between character and self fascinates me; you can see the change in his face, his posture, his confidence.

Here we behold a man who was much more comfortable behind a persona. These personas let him release a pure, unadulterated, yet still of course hilarious madness that no one else has ever replicated since. That was his gift.

And so, with all this in mind, I took a moment to watch Rik in his element: his eyes wide and glinting, his face grinning and bright, his body abuzz with the performance, his words spiralling wild and loud. That funny man. That pan-global phenomenon.

I found myself laughing, and then I found myself crying; and these two reactions cannot be separated. It was an inarticulable outpouring - because Rik is dead, because time has marched on, because I am no longer 17 years old and freshly in love with him, because things can never be quite as they were ever again. Yet, in spite of all that, this glowing, glorious imprint of Rik remains here, immortalised through the camera.

There he was: Rik Mayall, aged 26, still making me laugh 40 years down the line.

I'd like to say something to Rik, but I can't, so this will have to suffice:

Rest easy, Rik, you darling, funny man. Thank you for the wonder you filled me with when I first found you. It is still within me; it still flickers. Thank you for your fire. Thank you for your madness. Thank you for all the big and small things I want to list but can't capture coherently.

You've been gone ten years now, and that is unspeakably unfair. I am furious on your behalf, believe you me, as I have it on good authority a great many other people are too. I never even met you, and you changed my life. I know that sounds silly, but it is no exaggeration. If such things as souls exist, you made mine full. You made mine laugh.

Thank you, Rik. You utter bastard. I won't ever forget what you've done for me. I really bloody mean that.

I'm thinking of you today.

[saintsenara]

sparkling cyanide hokey & hepzibah smith general | 1.4k words

they is not knowing that we is knowing how to take the lives we is wanting from them. and that is why they is not thinking about how many weapons they is putting in kitchens.

tom riddle had nothing to do with the death of hepzibah smith. hokey had just had enough of being a slave.

this piece was written for week fourteen of @ladiesofhpfest, which focuses on the non-human ladies of the harry potter series [you can find the masterlist of the week’s fics here], which, here, means hokey, the house elf enslaved by hepzibah smith.

or, as we shall call her from hereon out, eokhí, which is how her name is accurately transcribed from the elvish language [more on which below].

for a story which only has 1,400 words, there is a lot to say about this one. some author’s notes under the cut:

the title is the same as that of agatha christie’s 1945 novel sparkling cyanide - published in the united states as remembered death - for which there are some spoilers immediately to follow. it is not, let me be frank, agatha’s best [not least because it’s a rewrite of a poirot short story, the yellow iris] but there are several things about it which appealed to me when i was writing this: that it deals with a death initially presumed not to be murder; that it has multiple suspects, including a young man who appears to desire wealth; and that the murder weapon is a poisoned drink.

the poison - in christie’s case and in mine - is potassium cyanide. this is obviously a deviation from what we are told in half-blood prince - in which dumbledore describes the poison used to kill hepzibah as "rare" - since cyanide is probably one of the better known methods of doing away with troublesome old ladies, but it has been my headcanon for quite a while: cyanide looks very similar to sugar; it's highly soluble; its bitter taste requires something sweet [like cocoa] to mask it; it kills its victim extremely quickly; and it wouldn’t be completely bizarre for it to be found in a wizarding house. cyanide was a standard component of silver polish until surprisingly recently, and i am choosing to believe that this is the same in the wizarding world. in her interview with the aurors, eokhí just happens to mention that hepzibah wanted a pair of silver candlesticks polished the day she died, and everyone considers the matter settled.

i’ve always been fascinated by the murder of hepzibah smith, not least because - as it’s described in canon - it’s a massive deviation from voldemort’s usual modus operandi. hepzibah is the only person we know to have been poisoned by him, and the only person we know to have been killed using - essentially - a muggle method [even if the poison in jkr’s head is magical, stirring it into a cup of cocoa isn’t]. above all, i am obsessed about what it says about voldemort that the hyper-feminine [even if the text treats her attempts at femininity as ridiculous - something which eokhí agrees with] hepzibah is killed in such a feminine-coded way: poison is known in pop-culture as a "woman’s weapon" - even if statistical evidence doesn’t confirm this - and a domestic one; and the image of hepzibah dying in her own home, over a cosy cup of cocoa, as punishment for insulting voldemort’s mother [whose death kept him from that experience] is really striking.

a part of the murder which is more usual for voldemort is that he frames someone else. however, unlike with his framing of morfin gaunt for the murder of the three riddles, which is made to look deliberate, he makes eokhí’s involvement in hepzibah’s death look accidental, and eokhí appears to receive no punishment from the ministry of magic. this undoubtedly has nothing to do with any compassion for her on voldemort’s part; he chooses it because it’s the most plausible cover he can give himself, and this must be because wizards know that elves cannot deliberately harm their masters.

or, at least, think they know that.

poison’s association with women and the domestic sphere obviously means it has a reputation for being the means by which servants bump off their masters - and, specifically, how female servants bump off their mistresses. i very much like the idea of witches laughing in a self-satisfied way, thinking that they never have to worry - like silly old muggles - about being done away with by their cooks, while the loophole which elves have noticed and have been exploiting for centuries stares them right in the face.

because we see in canon that elves are perfectly capable of indirectly harming their masters - dobby spends the entirety of chamber of secrets doing it - and so, when eokhí decides she has had enough of her mistreatment at hepzibah’s hands, all she has to do is get the poison out of the cupboard, put it in a dish, and let hepzibah choke on her own arrogance.

eokhí is a type of elf we only see glimpses of in canon - one who does not want to be a slave. the house-elf plotline is the weakest in the series for many reasons, but one i always find particularly galling is that dobby’s revolutionary zeal in chamber of secrets, in which he talks of whisper networks of elves decrying their ill-treatment at the hands of wizards and celebrating voldemort’s death, vanishes in goblet of fire, when the standard elvish position seems to correspond with the wizarding one: that being a slave is great and wanting freedom is bizarre.

eokhí said fuck that. this story is one of disrespect and rage and revenge, and of the triumphant pleasure of reclaiming the space which was once used to oppress you, as eokhí goes from waking up in a nest of blankets on the kitchen floor - because she’s not allowed a real bed, unlike hepzibah - to eating the cakes she has always been denied while hepzibah lies dead in the parlour.

it is also a story of language.

we hear several elves speak in canon, although only three in any great detail: dobby, winky, and kreacher. there are differences across their speech - dobby and kreacher tend to speak in the third-person, winky tends to speak in the first-person; kreacher uses the present continuous the least, winky uses it the most - but none speak in standard british [or american] english, and there are similarities - such as a tendency to use non-standard conjugations of verbs ["i is not sure you did dobby a favour, sir"] - among all three.

in harry potter, characters who speak in non-standard english are generally coded in one of three ways: foreign [fleur, krum]; simple-minded [hagrid]; or shifty [mundungus fletcher, amycus carrow]. which - if any - of these readings is intended for elves is up for debate, although my own view is that elves’ language is intended to make the reader agree with the standard wizarding opinion that they are less sophisticated or rational than humans and that their subordinate position in wizarding society is natural and justifiable. this is, obviously, something the text partially pulls the rug from under - the underestimation of both dobby and kreacher’s powers and agency is a significant contributor to harry’s victory - but it always feels, given the series’ failure to fully stick the landing on whether it thinks slavery is a bad thing, not as pointed or ironic as it may have been intended to be.

i prefer to think of elves as having their own language, used among themselves, to which wizards have no access. but i also think that it does them a disservice to think of the language they use to interact with wizards as simply non-standard - or, more dismissively, "broken" - english. i think we should imagine that all adult elves are fluent speakers of two languages: the elvish language; and what we might call elvish creole, which - like all creole languages - is not a dialect, but a full language in its own right.

eokhí’s story is written in this language. some of its linguistic features are:

phonetics: in goblet of fire, dobby is shown to think that ron’s surname is pronounced "wheezy". he thinks this because the elvish language of course has its own phonetics, which particularly affect the transcription of proper nouns which are not habitually used in elvish or elvish creole. two examples are important to this story: the elvish language doesn’t have an aspirated h- [as in, how a speaker of standard british english would pronounce "hokey"] and it doesn’t have a plosive p- [as in, how a speaker of standard british english would pronounce "hepzibah"]. that hepzibah expects eokhí to pronounce her name properly and yet doesn’t extend this basic courtesy to her should not surprise us.

names: three elves we meet in canon - dobby, winky, and hokey - have names which end in an "ee" sound. as eokhí explains, this is because elves are usually named after nouns, and the nominative singular of nouns in the elvish language end in -í. plural nouns end in -é. [kreacher’s name appears to be an adaptation of the word "creature", which suggests that he was dehumanised to such an extent that his masters wouldn’t even make an attempt to pronounce his real name.]

elves do not speak the names of their dead. eokhí refers only to eokhí’s mother, rather than using the name she had when she was living. wizards do not realise they are being disrespected when elves use their names after they are gone.

pronouns: the elves we see in canon tend to use illeism. that is, they refer to themselves in the third-person singular - he, she - most of the time. although winky uses the first-person singular - i - regularly, dobby only uses it occasionally, and kreacher never does. they also tend to use their own names as pronouns - "kreacher is cleaning" - particularly when needing to add emphasis or clarity to sentences. eokhí never uses the first-person singular, for reasons connected to elves’ traditions about the self. she would explain to us that when elves refer to themselves as "i", they are choosing to speak standard english for the benefit of their wizarding audience, and she doesn’t feel hepzibah deserves that effort.

verbs: the elves we see in canon generally only use the third-person singular of verbs - "i says" - regardless of pronoun choice. eokhí does the same, since both elvish and elvish creole have no plural verb forms and only one grammatical person, once again connected to elves’ traditions about the self.

the elves we meet in canon also tend to use the present continuous - "my master is telling winky some things" - frequently, often in a context which would not feel intuitive for speakers of standard english. in eokhí’s speech, the present continuous is used to show actions which are repeated or habitual - "eokhí is waking up one morning in her nest on the kitchen floor" - while the simple present refers both to general statements of fact - "eokhí is a slave" - or to one-off actions "eokhí decides that is it".

in the past tense, similar principles apply: eokhí uses the past continuous - the smith family "was wanting to be looked after" by eokhí’s mother - to describe repeated or habitual actions and the simple past for general or singular events. the future continuous is used both for actions which will be repeated or habitual and for actions which will take a indeterminate time to conclude - "eokhí is going to be fighting back", her battle is not just done with hepzibah dead - rather than simple actions with a defined end-point.

such as "she will eat".

[kaiannae]

Ficlet- Reflections on Sleep.

This is a short character study I wrote a few weeks back. Its too short to put on AO3, so I thought I'd just put it here fo your reading pleasure. Rated- T, borderline M for self depracting thoughts and self-gaslighting, sort of. Pairing: Shadowgast.

There is something about the way Caleb looks when he sleeps that Essek finds wholly enthralling. It was a discovery gradually made over time, and Essek feels wholly fortunate for being able to witness it, because Caleb rarely truly sleeps. Rather, he usually naps, he pretends at real rest, body still alert and ready to jump and react at the slightest change in atmosphere, at the faintest shift in the air. His nerves are strung like the strings of a lute, thrumming at the slightest touch and his face is always tense, worry lines etched too deeply for one so young. Yet, on rare occasions, at the right place and time and in the right company, Caleb allows himself to truly sink into slumber. It has been happening more and more lately, for which Essek is glad, and not only for the sake of his dear friend’s health; when Caleb allows himself to truly sleep, his face undergoes a fascinating transmutation. Slackened with sleep, his features relax, the worry lines on his forehead smooth out; the hard lines at the corners of his mouth soften and the traces of pain around those vivid eyes, now closed in sleep, disappear. Fast asleep, Caleb looks- softer, younger, less touched by the burdens of this world. There is a certain kind of peace that settles upon him only when in this deep slumber devoid of dreams, and the harshness of the years seems to melt away from him, leaving him looking charmingly, heartbreakingly innocent, like the child he once was before all childhood was robbed of him.  No, not a child; a young man, bright-eyed with the wonders that the world reveals to him every day, excited about his discoveries and aching to explore, to shape, to create.

It breaks Essek’s heart that he can only see this Caleb when he is unconscious. He would have liked to see this Caleb when fully awake, see those beloved feature light with a smile that isn’t touched by sadness and regret, to see his shoulders straight without the burden of guilt and shame and unerasable sins to weigh them down. But then, even this much is the rarest, most precious gift, one that Essek wholeheartedly believes he is not worthy of, yet has been awarded all the same. It is the gift of Caleb’s trust, the fact that he can relax enough in Essek’s presence, that he feels safe enough to sink into restful sleep. It makes something long-withered in Essek’s chest bloom, makes his heart flutter with something other than anxiety, makes him want to bare his fangs and growl and snarl ‘mine’ with every possessive little bit of his wretched mind, and protect this precious being, this unique man who could see something worthwhile in the bloody, charred remains of Essek’s soul and push him to be better than he had been, to try, even if they both know he could never do enough to atone for what he had done, willingly, knowingly and until recently, without remorse.

Next to the mindless pureness of a sleeping Caleb, Essek feels unclean, unworthy, stained beyond repair. He doesn’t measure up to this man, who sees himself as a monster yet makes the world, and those around him, better with every gesture, every step he takes. So, all Essek can do is repay for his kindness by serving as a chipped, dirty yet still functional mirror, reflecting for Caleb what he cannot see on his own, reminding him that he is good, he is kind, he deserves better than what his earlier years had served, and what the people who once guided him manipulated him into doing. He can say it a thousand times, ‘It’s not your fault’, and he would not get tired, because Caleb never gets tired of saying ‘There is good in you. You were not born with venom in your veins.’ They are mirrors for each other, warped but true all the same, and Essek feels so, very fortunate for being allowed this, for being kept in Caleb’s company.

And if there is ever a time where Essek feels something close to peace, it is in times like these. Caleb, having nodded off after a peaceful evening of theorizing and quiet reading, sitting close enough to touch, close enough to lean more and more heavily against Essek as his mind quieted down and his eyelids became heavy, close enough to give in to the gentle, subtle guidance of Essek’s hands to lean into his lap, then finally give in with a sigh and sink into a lying position, stubbornly clinging to his book for a few more moments until Essek started carding gentle fingers through his hair. Essek is partial to Caleb’s hair. It is thick, brimming with a life of its own, the color so much richer than anything Essek had seen before. It is a distinct pleasure to be allowed to play with it, and as he had discovered, a sure way to ease Caleb into sleep. And when the human’s breath finally evens, Essek doesn’t feel any discomfort with the weight of the other man’s head in his lap, and even if he did, he would never have traded it for comfort, because sitting reclined like this, with Caleb slumbering in his lap, he feels as if he’s guarding something precious, as if his hands in Caleb’s hair are handling something extremely rare and exquisite. And if he fades into a trance like this, holding his dearest of friends, guarding his sleep, being allowed this- well, at times like this, for a few fleeting moments of his long, desolate life, Essek can truly say that there is nowhere else he’d rather be.