#aka silencing tactic

[sowhatnotcreative]

Imagine you're trying to talk about the horrors of the meat industry and some dofus goes "I actually know a farmer that got killed by a cow!"

[david-watts]

got chased away from the living room, again, because I asked if I could put something else on instead of listening to d*tton whinging about his nuclear power 'plan', and thus got told 'it's only for a few minutes' 'there's multiple topics in this programme' 'I we want to watch what's on next [in nearly half an hour] anyway' which I will continue on about in the tags inevitably but my m*ther accidentally did revenge for me by dousing her dessert in cream that expired a fortnight ago (which I suspect was kept because my grandmother doesn't have any rhyme or reason to what she keeps in the fridge, especially with dairy products. expiry dates are up for interpretation!)

[liulith]

We as a fandom need to open our hearts to the insane comedic potential of Sir Pentious being included as a background character in stories taking place in the "old days" before Vox and Alastor's falling out. AND the comedic potential of one-sided Sir Pentious -> Vox.

Why?

Canon!Sir Pentious is attached to his era's aesthetics but he also wants to be "hip and cool" (see pilot episode; Sir Pentious as the how do you do fellow kids meme) and join the "Almighty Vees". When did he start wanting that? He's not a media demon trying to keep up with his audience and be a likeable public figure. He's a mechanic trying to conquer Hell by force thanks to his machines and obviously relishes in acting like a villain (fear me! I'm so evil! I'm the architect of destruction! etc. etc).

This is very different from the Vees' approach - maintaining a perfect public image, insidious manipulation tactics... Vox threatens Alastor in the show, but the Vees clearly haven't built their power through turf wars, which is and has always been Pentious' one and only strategy. All the machines we've seen him make are war weapons (+ the Egg Boyz who do his bidding, and help him operate those very weapons). Voxtek probably sells weaponry too but that is more Camilla's domain, so it would be more logical for Pentious to try and join her.

Pentious' and the Vees agenda and interests aren't aligned, so why is Pentious so desperate to join the Vees?

there are many reasons why Pentious could want to be part of the Vees besides the one I'm gonna talk about but you know what MY agenda is:

Vox is Pentious' idol. Pentious is an inventor, an innovator. He would have loved waking up in Hell with a mechanical body he can upgrade however he wants and finds the whole concept fascinating.

He's not against new technology, as his creations clearly go beyond what people could have had invented in his time despite their "steampunk" aesthetic (see: the effing death ray). So I think his current "limitations" are more a matter of him having to stick with what he knows best because it's hard to keep up with the constant stream of new tech. This is why he's more than impressed with Vox's extraordinary ability to adapt to change and master new technologies again and again. He's a fellow innovator! That's one reason for Pentious to be obsessed with the guy.

And if you think obsessed isn't the right word, think about this: Sir Pentious repeatedly challenges Alastor to fights even though he's clearly outmatched and it's an incredible risk to take considering what Alastor does. Pentious is OLDER than Alastor, he was there when he broadcast the most powerful Overlords' scream all over Hell. Plus, losing always leaves him in a very vulnerable position (without his best weapons). Is it madness? Hubris? An obsession for Alastor? No!

Sir Pentious to Alastor: Silence! Now Cower! For when I've slain you, the Almighty Vees will finally acknowledge me!

Sir Pentious thinks defeating Alastor is the only way the Vees will finally acknowledge him. No matter how dangerous it is, he has to try, for the Vees (Vox). Just like he took the risk of angering the Princess of Hell to get in Vox's good graces. This says a lot, for someone as paranoid as him, who doesn't trust anyone who is "too nice" to him.

If Hazbin had more episodes there should have been one about Pentious struggling with the fact he disappointed his idol and told to KHS 👀

(btw this is old news but we know that one of the Hazbin episodes that Viv originally pitched was about a science contest organized by Voxtek in which Pentious and Baxter competed against each other! Pentious could have done that after ep2!)

Anyway, back to the comedic potential of it all & Vox's arrival in Hell. Can you imagine his reaction as a newly fallen Sinner, when he's hanging out with Alastor (aka following him like a lost puppy?) and he meets Sir Pentious for the first time? Like sure, Hell is full of insane people but Alastor obviously has a Reputation and no one ever challenges him. And suddenly... Hm... Alastor?? There's an airship with a giant cannon pointed right as us?? Firing a DEATH RAY?!

It's also so funny to imagine Sir Pentious being obsessed with Alastor and considering him his archnemesis back in the day, only to slowly become obsessed with Vox instead and only caring about defeating Alastor because he thinks Vox will like it. It starts with Sir Pentious trying to "gather intel" on Alastor's new "ally", spying on them or sending his Egg Boyz to do so (and we already know great he is at spying so you can guess how that goes lol), and the rest is history.

Alastor loves attention so he probably let Pentious spy on him behind bushes from time to time if only because it's very entertaining to watch him try to be discrete and make his shadow tap on his shoulder. How hilarious would it be if Alastor noticed Sir Pentious' growing crush on Vox but not Vox's crush on him? Also, Vox misunderstanding Pentious and Alastor's relationship and thinking Pentious is a weird obsessive ex... The world is a stage and the stage is a world of entertainment!

[whousestypewriters]

──── ୨ৎ SMUDGED LIPSTICK — GRAYSON HAWTHORNE + READER ‧₊˚

a/n: hi lovelies guess whos backkk (and with a new fic style because she's lazy at finding pics 😭) anyway no warnings with this one just gray being a cutie and jealous WHICH WE NEED MORE OF OML

"he's still staring at you." the words spoken for what seems like the hundredth time tonight leave your boyfriend - more like bodyguard at this point - as he stares down the unfortunate creature over in the corner.

otherwise known as your ex. aka the human equivalent of a dog shit. literally he's wearing the ugliest brown suit you've ever seen. why did he think dark brown on dark brown on black would suit him again?

"you would only know that if you've been staring at him too, gray," you say as you focus on collecting the small little appetiser that a nearby server is offering you. "we're literally at a function with hundreds of people, its concerning how you keep managing to find him in the crowd."

"he keeps staring at you, and its kind of hard to miss the drool coming out of his mouth." grayson's eyes are sharp when they turn to you. "i don't like it."

"you don't like a lot of things."

"this is in the top two. that and wearing leather pants." you snort and cover your hand over your mouth to try and stop the smile spreading across your face like wildfire. in the two years you and grayson have been dating the leather pants story has come up only four times - and never by grayson.

you were still in the dark about the whole situation until you cornered jameson and xander and demanded they tell you the whole story. you do not regret any of the questionable tactics you used to get it out of them one bit.

grayson eyes you suspiciously and you sober quickly deciding to drag him along the room and look for a place to sit. thats a better idea than explaining you know about the story and fight the urge to take a photo every time you see leather pants and send it to gray.

the night proceeds on and just as you think you're in the clear for not hearing another word about your trash bag ex, he shows his face. fun.

"what do you want?" grayson's voice is cold and sharp before your ex can get a word in.

"to say hi."

"you said it now leave."

"nonsense, i want to get to know the stunning lady on your arm."

ok gross. no. ew.

"what do you want grey?" you roll your eyes at the disturbingly brown suit and the horrendously styled hair on top of it.

ironic that your ex's name is grey. and your currently boyfriend who - you're pretty sure is the love of your life - is named grayson. what are the odds? pretty fucking low.

"to talk to you," the sleaze bag smiles at you, clearly avoiding grayson's deadly gaze.

"no. not happening."

grey reaches out and places a hand on your arm. "oh come on baby, you're not really still upset over-"

"she clearly said no. so leave. if not i can break the hand your touching her with. your choice." the low and threatening voice breaks into the conversation. and if you're one hundred percent completely and unapologetically honest: that's hot.

"i was her first grey," the asshole sneers

"and i'll be her last. i'm the one who takes her on dates, and treats her like the queen she is. i'm the one who remembers her favorite foods and makes sure to always have an extra hair tie around. i'm the one smudging her lipstick while she tells me she loves me. i'm her grayson and you are not."

silence ensues between the two and you stand there dumbfounded at gray's words. how could you not love this man?? the other one on the other hand...? yeah you could go a long long time without seeing that ugly asshat.

"whatever you prick," grey sneers and storms off - probably to go sulk to his mother.

when he's fully out of sight you twist back to grayson who has a tight expression on his face. he unexpectedly pulls you along and out of the bright function room and into a more secluded private spot.

"i'm sorry about that," he stresses slightly. "i didn't mean to just spit all of that out. please don't be-"

"grayson," you cut him off. "that was probably the sweetest and hottest thing i've ever seen you do. i am definitely not mad." he visible relaxes at that.

"but, i think you're going to have keep good on your promise of smudged lipstick..."

𐔌 . ⋮ 🏷️ tags .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

@arqbella, @midiosaamor, @reminiscentreader, @ecliphttlunar, @tornqdowarnings,

@catapparently, @zenikswaffleshop, @off-to-th-r4aces, @emila07

[2kverrr]

MIKE MUNROE - Dating Headcanons

UNTIL DAWN || Mike Munroe x reader

he’s known not only by the group to be a player, but also by your entire school.

so when he started trying to talk to you a bit more, you were more than prepared to shut. it. down.

there was a sour ending between him and emily soon after hannah and beth’s disappearance, and at this rate, jessica too (she was clearly still hung up over their summer fling).

his confidence surpassed yours and he was relentless. joining you ashley and sam, uninvited and unexpected:

“hey guys, what’re we talking about” the brunette seats himself next to you, purposefully nudging your shoulder. “we were talking about y/n’s next cheer competition” sam sighs, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms as mike slowly starts to put his arm around you, “erm- what is this?” ash points, glaring at your arm, causing you to look down to see his big, tan hands creeping around your shoulder. at an instant, you shrug him off as your face flushes red. this boy was going to be the death of you.

pulling you out of classes with white lies to your teachers:

“yeah, she needs to head to the attendance office” he beams his charming smile towards the teacher then winks at you. “what the fuck do you want?” you query with hands on your hips stepping out of your english lit class. “you.”

notes in your locker. but it as sweet as the action was, it didn’t phase you, you didn’t want to be his next side-piece:

roses are red, violets are blue. flowers mean shit, i want you.

me, you, a couple of beers and my dads garage?

why are you playing so hard to get, we’ve known each other for like forever. you only make me like you more.

eventually you’d received the painfully awkward video message from josh, opening his lodge up on mount blackwood for the winter.

you’d had message after message from the boy, invites and offers to take transport together, it was a little bit sad how hard he was trying, he usually breathes in a girl’s direction and they’re ready to chew his food for him.

so you accepted, you’d known him since you were 5 after all, what’s the harm?

and then it started, all with him asking to hold your hand on the ski lift, insisting his left hand was cold. pathetic but cute.

during this you were spotted by a wild josh, lively and charismatic as ever considering the circumstances, he made sure to let everybody within a 20 mile radius know of his suspicions upon the two of you.

the attention had its positives and negatives. jess didn’t approve, nor did sam. josh, chris and ashley were happy as ever. nobody ever knew what emily was really thinking so you tried your hardest to ignore it, whereas matt was glad mike was busy with anyone but his ex.

“soo… i think it’d be wrong not to ask you out right now.”

you honestly thought, from the deepest most sincere part of your heart, believed your were mike-proof. but through all his little tactics he managed to make you actually like him, romantically.

a lot of girls gave off the wrong impression of mike; man-whore, cheater, horndog. maybe they were the problem because you couldn’t ask for anyone better.

he cooks surprisingly well, though he refuses to wash up, he has some pretty good experience in the kitchen.

he doesn’t mind too much about what you do and where you go, maybe it’s because you’re the same with him, unlike one emily davis, “a human gps with my location on lock and an accusation weapon system activated”

he always smells good. he has gone through at least 4 of his favourite colognes within the past year, which also means you’ve got an easy birthday/Christmas present option.

weirdly enough, he loves going on shopping trips with you. you think he’s pretty useful fashion-wise whereas he always enjoys convincing you into ‘rating your clothes’, aka - watching his girlfriend undress while sitting in silence.

amongst these positives, you can only name one terrible feature with mike. he’s a snorer. not just a little soft breathy snore. it’s a full on mouth open, putting his entire body weight on you, speakers blasting snores. it could also easily be mistaken for a helicopter taking off.

eventually emily warms up to your relationship, managing to see eye to eye with you. you’ll never know what her ulterior motive is but you have enough trust in mike to bat off her ways.

[itsmeatballworld]

| it ends in heartbreak |

pairing | daryl dixon x f!reader

summary | you both knew he would break your heart. he couldn't help himself.

wc | 1400

warnings | cursing, sadness/heartbreak [aka the title]

a/n | I've had this in my drafts forever lol I forgot about this one! Also this is the first time I've ever written pure angst so go easy on me <3

continue... [ part 2 ] - [ part 3 ]

You always knew this day would come.

There were signs pointing to the downfall of your relationship, signs you chose to ignore to enjoy the moments of happiness.

But the signs couldn’t be any clearer–it would never last. It couldn't.

It was the end of the world, for starters. Life was always in shambles. The group never stayed in one spot long enough. Even the prison wasn’t safe. With everything unstable, it should’ve been obvious this would happen, but you were naive to think you’d would be any different.

Because the reality was: this was always how it was supposed to end.

He was built on a fractured foundation. He set up walls and built his life around a broken base, worn down by his past that he couldn't escape. First, parents had cracked and hardened his outlook on life. Then his brother taught him he meant little to others by leaving him behind. Not once did he ever learn how to fix the ache in his heart.

Yet when he met you, things changed.

It was gradual. Pieces of him started to align and heal. The tough outer shell wasn't as indestructible as he first imagined. After some time he opened up and let you in.

But you both knew he would break your heart.

He couldn't help himself. It was in his nature to push back, to fight and wrangle away from anything that became too real. Too good.

But for the time being, you enjoyed the blissful moments of his affection.

When he kissed you goodnight it was over.

He lingered, almost as if he was allowing his lips to memorize the feeling of your skin on his. His fingers fell against your curves as you pressed into the cellblock’s cool cement wall. It was in these seconds of quiet where you both had a chance to breathe.

Pulling back, Daryl rested one arm above your head. He leaned in close, gazing sweetly down at you. His other hand slowly traveled to your face and Daryl’s thumb brushed against your bottom lip.

Without hesitating you whispered the words he never imagined hearing from you.

Love you.

There. Right there. You saw the spark in his bright blue eyes dim. The crystalline color washed away into a deep ocean blue. Rocky and turbulent. Daryl’s eyes were no longer filled with love, but rather, fear.

You lost him, right there, pressed against the concrete wall of Cellblock D.

This was destined to fail.

“Please don’t do this.”

“Have to.”

“No…no you don’t have to, Daryl.” Your chest tightened. It was like the air was on fire. No matter how deeply you breathed in and out, pain still resided in your chest. He was crippling you.

“Daryl–”

“Ain’t up for debate.” He stepped back, snatching his crossbow from the watchtower’s metal flooring.

Your hands fumbled to find your shirt, hating how he sprung this on you in the middle of the night. He didn't have patience to wait, apparently. Just break your heart and go, like it was nothing.

“I’m not trying to…I just…” you groaned. “What happened? Was it me? Did I do something?”

His eyes went wide. That scared, fearful expression washed over him once again.

Fuck, you squeezed your eyes shut. That was it. That look. It was just like the other night. When those stupid words stumbled out of your mouth, falling to the ground at Daryl’s feet. Just before he crushed them with his silence.

“Was it something I said?”

He didn't answer and his silence (unlike most nights) wasn't good enough. You needed answers.

“So that’s it then. You say ‘I’m done’ and leave before sunrise?”

The broody man fought to glance in your direction. Instead, he focused out towards the tree-line. He grabbed onto the windowsill and squeezed so tightly that the white of his knuckles appeared. But his tactics to avoid the conversation at hand weren’t getting past you tonight.

You shot up from the floor. “Daryl.”

“I ain’t got time for this.”

“You fuck me, say we’re done, and leave? Like this was all nothing? Like we mean nothing to each other?”

Daryl paused. He turned to you with lips curled into a tight frown. Even in the darkness of the watchtower, through the bright white moonlight, his frustration was clear.

“I said ‘I love you’, Daryl.” There was a desperation behind your words. Your voice was so deeply distressing it made your chest ache. It was heavy and exhausting to display your feelings out to him in the middle of the night. But you wanted more–deserved more–than a shitty ending to whatever you had with him.

“You think this is love?”

You gawked, “yes!”

He paced the small room like a caged animal ready to pounce.

You love this man.

“This ain’t love.”

You love this man. This jerk.

“Then what the fuck is this, Daryl? Tell me.” You paused, tears welling in your eyes but you refused to let them fall. “Fucking tell me!”

The shirt in your hands balled up tight around your closed fist. You were hurt. Everything about him was trouble and you let him in.

“I said ‘I love you’. I said it and now you’re pulling away.”

As he watched you, just for a moment, his eyes didn’t fill with fear or confusion. There was something there. Between the declarations, he looked apologetic. His blue eyes softened, letting the emotions he desperately tried to conceal slip past those walls he built back up.

“Well, shit! I’m sorry I said it. I fucked this up, didn’t I?” The gravel in your voice scratched your throat. Everything burned.

The apologetic stare turned pitiful. A deep scowl crossed his face and your heart sank. “Can’t mess it up when there was nothin’ here, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. It was so condescending as his drawl pulls at the syllables. That tightness in your chest balled into a pit of rage. Fire that burned you before ignited an anger inside.

You moved closer towards him. “You sleep with me every night. You kiss me before leaving on runs. When you think nobody’s looking, you hold my hand. We talk about our past. Our future. This is real, Daryl.”

“Nah.” He grabbed his belt, twisting it through the loops. “This ain’t real.”

Your fingers tightened on the fabric as you tugged the shirt on. “That’s not true—“

He huffed, staring out into the cloudy night sky. “You’re better off without me anyway.”

“Don’t. Don't say that. I’m not better off without you. I’d be worse.”

Daryl paused.

But the hurt and anger fueling your body didn’t stop. “So don’t make me feel crazy for falling in love with you. Like it was a choice? If I was fucking smart, I would’ve ran far away from you the second we met. But I didn’t. Because I saw you for more than the asshole you pretend to be. So excuse me for feeling blindsided by your decision to leave me.”

“Leave you?” He spat. “Get it through your head, girl. You ain’t mine! You’re just some bitch I screwed.”

The frogs croaking down by the creeks ceased to exist. Trees stopped rustling in the breeze. Crickets no longer sang under the stars. The world froze as his words were thrown at you with such haste. Like he didn’t think twice.

Your arms wrapped around your waist, tugging at the fabric clinging to your body.

He didn’t look back at you. His eyes seemed to drift anywhere but you like he couldn't face the fact that he said it out loud.

No, no. He doesn’t really think that…

Your voice cracked as the tears from earlier were not going to wait much longer. “Daryl–”

He turned on his heels and was out the door. Down the ladder, each step was louder than the last. You paused, bawling your fists as the tears finally spilled across your cheeks. Loud and heaving gasps, muddled together with hot tears.

He broke you down within seconds. The tears and sobs continued on for what felt like forever until you finally had a moment of rest. The tightness in your chest subsided, thankfully, but this was the easier part. Tomorrow will be harder when you’ll have to put on a fake smile, wipe away tears in the dark prison hallways, and avoid him.

Forget him. Forget him…right like it would be easy. It’ll be fucking impossible to forget him.

You wished you could hate him. But you don’t.

So for tonight, you let yourself feel the heartbreak and planned to stand taller tomorrow. Because in the end you knew it would never last.

But it didn't matter.

You loved that man.

Yet after everything, he might have been right. You weren't truly with him.

And maybe he never really cared for you at all.

-xx-

-xx-

a/n 2.0 | daryl PLEASEE {as if I didn't write him to act this way}

[astral-cookiery]

Woah! A new writer :0 Welcome and hello! :D

Can I request headcanons/short fic (pick whatever you want!) with Dark Cacao Cookie or Red Velvet? In which Reader decided to braid their absolutely lovely long hair.. thank you!

Hello and thank you for the welcome!

Loved this request~ It took me a little bit to think about!

I'm an overachiever and wanted to do both of them too

Hehehe...

Red Velvet x Reader

You were down in the Cake Factory with Red Velvet, helping him oversee the growth of the Cake Army. You were watching the oven, making sure the tray would be taken out on time. Red Velvet wasn't watching so vigilantly, instead mixing more batter.

He uttered curses to himself, huffing in irritation. looking over, you noticed his hair was disheveled, falling in front of his face and obscuring his vision while mixing. His hands were covered in cake batter, making it so he couldn't get it out of his face.

You shook your head slightly, turning your attention to the oven. It would be some time until the tray was ready to be removed from the oven.

You focused your eyes on the appliance, your back turned as he kept grumbling to himself. You snickered at his predicament, covering your mouth to muffle the sound. Yeah, you should probably stop standing there and do something. A few beats of silence passed, the only sound being that of the oven's flames.

"...I can braid your hair out of your face if you want." You offered offhandedly, not looking back at him. That might've pissed him off more, and you didn't exactly want his anger directed toward you.

Instead, you only received a sigh for an answer. "Make it quick." He muttered.

You walked over, standing behind him. Moving carefully, you pulled his hair out of his face, then started parting it, your hands moving as delicately as possible. Red Velvet Cookie set the oversized spoon he was using to mix the batter down, now just resting his arms against the counter.

Slowly, as if trying to be subtle, Red Velvet started leaning into your hands. Of course, you noticed right away, the extra weight making it harder to work, but it was kind of cute, so you didn't mention it. It was like his inner cake hound had come out, seeing how he was acting like one.

It was comfortably quiet now, as opposed to the pressing silence from before. Apparently, braiding his hair had the secondary, unintended effect of calming him down.

"Is this what you do when you're unattended?" Pomegranate Cookie said in an impassive tone. You jumped, and you both glared at her simultaneously. Since you were almost done braiding his hair, you quickly tied it so that the braid wouldn't fall apart, then stepped away. "It's not like we were doing anything weird. I was just braiding his hair so it stayed out of his way." You defended, turning to pull the tray out of the oven.

Pomegranate huffed, brushing your comment off. Before she could make any further comment, however, a wave of Cake Hound Puppies was unleashed onto the room, filling the air with yips and barking. Pomegranate got the hell out of there, leaving you and Red Velvet as you were mauled, and you both went down in a pool of hounds and giggles.

Apparently, cake hounds were an excellent Pomegranate repellent.

Dark Cacao x Reader

Dark Cacao Cookie has been stressed lately, all of the pressure on him causing him to push exhaustion. In other words, he has not slept in two days, and he is concerning those around him.

"Come on~ Please?" You asked again. Unfortunately for him, you were one of his most persistent servants in the kingdom.

He sighed, trudging through a deeper drift. He lacked any energy required to argue with you right now. It appeared that his tactic to get you off his back (Aka losing you in the snow) was not working as he had hoped.

Before you were able to badger him any more on the topic, he finally gave you an answer that wasn't silence. "For a short period of time, fine."

You cheered triumphantly, then continued panting as you jumped through the snow. How on earthbread were you keeping pace with him? Neither he or you could say. "If you walk through my tracks, it is less tiring to walk through the snow." He advised, setting his path back towards the castle.

You took the advice, and found it easier to keep up on the long trek back.

‗=‗=‗=‗=‗

Evening had come, taking the light of day with it by the time you had returned to the castle, your clothing coated in ice. If Dark Cacao was at all bothered by the cold, he didn't show it at all.

You had quickly retreated to your room for a change of clothes, then found him in the throne room, now without the heavy armor and cape. You followed him to his quarters, standing by as he took a seat on the edge of his bed.

Internally triumphing, you kneel behind him, and tackle the task of dividing his hair into parts, making sure to be gentle.

Dark Cacao hummed, closing his eyes. "I enjoy your presence, [Name]." He commented. You sort of froze for a second, entirely unsure of what to say. What do you say in that case?

"I'm aware you do, too. You're one of the most persistent cookies I've ever seen, I'm sure you'll be a great warrior one day." It was probably the lack of sleep making him like this, because any other day he wouldn't have said anything even close to that.

Soon after, he starts slouching, and you quirk an eyebrow slightly. "Your highness?.." You mumble softly. Did he really?..

You quickly realized that yes, he did indeed just doze off while sitting upright.

Sighing, you finish braiding his hair, making sure that the intricate braid wouldn't slip out in his sleep with a rubber band.

Huffing quietly, you help him properly lay in bed, then quickly sneak off, the door quietly shutting behind you as he was left to sleep.

(I'd like to imagine that you sat guard outside his door to keep visitors away until he woke up, then slipped away before he knew you were there, but that doesn't have to be so if you don't want it to be.)

Put him to bed like a child. Great success.

[ciaomarie]

Part 5: What Then?

It's finally Sydney's one year work anniversary! A little slice of fluff to tide us over. Quick summary of the last 4 parts- Its been about 5-6 months since The Bear opened, the slowburn is slowburning,, and Carmy wants to make Syd an shareholder. Please excuse grammar/spelling. My contacts are fizzling out.

Sydney woke up with cheerful expectation before her alarm rang. Today was her work anniversary or “workversary”. A year ago, she strode into The Beef praying that this was her chance to make something great with one of the best chefs in the industry. Then in a couple short months The Beef had closed, the process of The Bear began, and since it’s opening her hopes of creating lifelong memories for people and of obtaining a star seemed possible. The dream was becoming more concrete every day.

She got ready eagerly and grabbed the garment bag with her freshly dry-cleaned custom chef’s coat. More than just the significance of the day, Syd felt like something special was going to happen. Carmy had brought up this anniversary almost every day for the past week. Obviously, he was hiding something, and she was ravenous to know what it was. She tried every truth extraction tactic she could think of, from feigning nonchalance to making him a gourmet peanut butter and jelly sandwich, to shameless pouting. The last almost worked, but Richie walked by interrupting her performance. Carm snapped out of her spell and from that moment refused to hint about today. Richie teased her ever since and even last night he left a voice note impersonating her honeyed murmur “Carmy, pleasssseee tell me…I’d wouldn’t hide anything from you” followed by retching noises.

Oh, well. She liked good surprises.  

The morning was uneventful, but during staff lunch Carmy announced that it was Sydney’s work anniversary and Marcus brought out a sublime vertical carrot cake for everyone. He even made an additional small cake for her to take home and share with her father. It was so divine that if the cake was all she got, she would have been thankful, and she told him as much.

“Marcus, you are incredible! If you ever need a kidney, just make me this,” she moaned.

“I’ll remember that chef” he answered scratching his neck and bashfully ducking back into the kitchen. His crush on her was mostly snuffed out the night of Friends and Family, but occasionally those old feelings resurfaced.

As Sydney reached the peak of a blissful sugar high Carm asked her to join him in Natalie’s office. First a cake and now the mystery reveal!

They asked her to take the seat of honor, aka the comfortable chair, behind the desk. Nat looked pleased and relaxed, while Carmy was harder to read. His expression was a mixture of agitation and gladness as he drummed his fingers on his knee. For a moment they sat in silence.

“What is it?” Sydney blurted.

“Carm, tell her!” Natalie ordered with an exasperated smile.  

Taking a deep breath Carmen gushed forth,

“Sydney, I don’t even know where I’d be, where The Bear would be, without you. You put in a crap ton of hours without pay during the reno, you kill it in the kitchen every day, we created the menu together, the staff respects you, you kept everything running when I was sick and…and…we want to give you a share in the restaurant.”

Sydney slumped back in the chair, speechless and gazed at them her pupils dilated like saucers.

Natalie went on to explain further, handing her a contract.

“If you accept, your share would be equivalent to Carm and I. Of ‘course none of us will see additional income until we pay back Uncle Cicero, but we didn’t want to wait to make it clear that you are essential to The Bear, to our family.”

Carmy held his breath. He had been elated about this for days, but now he doubted. Yes, Sydney wanted a star, and she loved the work, but would she want to be tied to The Bear, and by extension to him?

Sydney sat up, clutching the contract, and shook her head in amazement.

“You’re serious? A share? An equal share?”

“Yeah, of ‘course” Carmy replied, his ocean tinted eyes imploring her to believe it.

“Okay” she conceded softly, her vision blurred with tears, and she stood up to embrace her now legal partners.

Natalie swooped in first with one of her famous hugs and whispered, “Thank you.”

Then Carm overwhelmed with relief pulled her close, his lips slightly brushing her cheek.

Just then someone tapped on the door and Natalie opened it. It was Uncle Cicero eating a slice of Marcus’s cake.

“Hey, Uncle Cicero, to what do we owe this pleasure?” Natalie enquired.

“Well, my lawyer said he sent the contract over this morning, so I just wanted to officially welcome our new partner to the business and to the family! Sydney you’re a class act and this one couldn’t have picked better,” Uncle Cicero answered with a wink at Carmy. Then he beckoned for Syd to give him a hug, which she did her face hot with a mixture of happiness and self-consciousness. She felt like she was an honorary Berzatto.

“Well, I got to head out. We’ll talk again soon Sydney,” Cicero said warmly and beckoned Carm to follow him.

As they walked through the restaurant and out to his car, Cicero praised his nephew for making The Bear a success so far, raved about the cake and most importantly for making their monthly installments. Then he said something very strange.

“Carmen, you’re doing this right with that girl. Wise to get the business side squared away first. Oh, and I got a ring guy, he could get you a good deal.”

Carmy was jolted from the hazy cloud of contentment that enveloped him since Sydney accepted the offer.

“Why would I need a ring guy?”

“Hey, I know young people do things differently these days. Some wait for years, but when you’re ready to get engaged I got a connect.” Cicero explained.

 “Well, uh, Sydney and I aren’t dating,” Carmy responded with a shade of longing in his voice.

“You broke up!?”

“We’ve never dated.”

“Then who were you seeing right before the restaurant opened?”

“Claire.”

“Who’s Claire?”

“She was from our old neighborhood; It didn’t work out. I was Alex Gonzalez during a lot of the reno. Why did you think I was dating Sydney?”

Cicero cocked his head, scrutinizing Carm with the intensity of an owl. That look would make Mike Tyson falter.

“Why do you think I thought you two were dating?”

Carmy blushed with a crooked smile, rubbing his chin.

Cicero sighed, got into his car, and rolled down the window.

“Don’t overthink it nephew. I could’ve been married to the love of my life if I wasn’t such a know-it-all manichino (dummy) in my youth.”

Carmy blinked, confused.

“But you are married.”

“Yeah, and she’s great. Not the love of my life though.”

With those words Cicero waved and took off.

Carmy stood for a minute to clear his mind before heading back inside. He knew Sydney was probably recovered from shock and waiting for him with dozens of questions about their new arrangement.

Also, would another hug be out of order?

[m00nlight-ramblings]

Evergreen: Chapter 2

Chapter 2 of "Evergreen".

The tension between you and Astarion is starting to come to a boiling point, with the first night in camp setting off what seems to be a rocky start to your relationship.

Read Chapter 1 here

Pairings: Astarion x female reader (named "Atriss", but still using "you" because the thought of Y/N makes me cringe)

Warnings: Swearing. Angst. Not proofread we post like men aka fix shit after it's been posted. The entire story is 18+ so MINORS DNI!

Word Count: 1.83K

A/N: This chapter is definitely a bit of a set-up chapter, so apologies if it is feeling a bit slow. However, things will begin to pick up...promise!

After having gotten supplies from the traders inside of the Grove, you and the other companions decided to set up camp right outside the gate - far enough away where your group could have some privacy, but close enough where you could come to their aid if goblins decided to attack them again.

"And then out of nowhere, bam! The Blade of Frontiers! With a flourish of that decadently beautiful rapier, the goblins had no idea what hit them!" Gale exclaimed, recounting the story of how Wyll came to join the group. Much to Wyll's embarrassment, Gale detailed his entrance while the other companions had stumbled upon the Grove and immediately decided to help.

"I was actually hunting Karlach, if you can believe it," Wyll said, tearing a piece of bread off from his dinner, "I was told she was a certain dangerous devil, but it obviously couldn't have been further from the truth."

"Can you believe it? Me!" Karlach laughed, "Quite the opposite, really." Thoughtfully, she took a sip of her wine from the bottle she was holding, "Unless you piss me off. Then you're fucked."

You chuckled with the rest of the companions, falling into a routine with them (from a safe distance). Unsure of how much you could actually trust all of them, you decided at least to have a good time with them while they drank and joked. Gale had made dinner - roasted pig and bread he had procured from the Grove - and Karlach had sweettalked her way into getting a few bottles of wine from a local trader inside. Now, as the night had fallen, you all shared stories around the campfire before you all headed to bed.

"First things first for tomorrow - we get up early, possibly daybreak. We need to leave at a decent hour so we can get to the Goblin camp by the latest, two days from now." Wyll said, jumping into fighting tactics and how we should go about infiltrating their base. Everyone seemed to be on the edge of their seat, excited about the thought of fighting for the Tieflings.

Everyone, except Astarion.

He was leaning against a nearby tree, swirling the wine in his glass. He had neglected a plate of dinner, and currently had a look on his face that could only be read as "annoyed".

"Do you have another plan, Astarion? A better one, perhaps?" You asked, calling him out.

Astarion's head jerked up slightly, his mind finally joining the conversation with the rest of the party. He swirled the wine again slowly and took a sip, smacking his lips once he was done for some sort of emphasis.

"I just think..." He started, walking closer to the group, "That this isn't our responsibility, so why are we even bothering?" His foppish way of speaking - with his hand flourishes, and lyrical mannerisms - were charismatic for a while. But once you realized how selfish he really was, you recognized that he truly was just starting to get on your nerves. "If it were up to me, I'd say we just try and find whomever can help us rid these parasites, and move on with our lives."

"I agree with the elf," Lae'zel spoke, causing everyone to turn our heads, "We must seek clearance of these parasites at once. We need to get ourselves to a creche before long - who knows how long it will take for us to finally turn into those disgusting mind flayers."

"And, if you remember," Gale spoke, causing everyone else to silence, "This Halsin character has said to have information against these ilithid tadpoles. So, it is in our best interest to find him in the goblin camp - and not only for us, but for the tieflings, as well."

Astarion's eyes narrowed at you, making it a point to not look away. He sipped his wine and you smirked at him, trying to assert dominance. You may be kind, but you were no fool. And you knew many men like Astarion - handsome, charismatic men who used their knowledge and charm to get their way.

And it wouldn't work on you.

"So, if that is the only problem that has arisen amongst us, I say we clear our dishes and head to bed. Who is willing to take first watch?" Gale asked, standing with his plate and goblet.

"I will." Astarion said instantly, downing the rest of his wine. You eyed him as he stood up, almost eager to be first watch. Curious.

Or suspicious.

"Great!" Gale clapped his hands and made his way to the bucket of water on the edge of camp to wash his plate. "I will take the second half, then! A little earlier-than-normal wake-up never hurt anyone!"

You watched Astarion smirk as he rest against the tree again. You didn't know why, but you knew something was up with him - why did he volunteer for first watch, during their first night at camp? Was it a defensive tactic, possibly to sus us out?

You washed your plate and brought it back to your tent, getting settled in your sleeping clothes. You were going to find out what the story was with him, one way or another.

After 30 more minutes, everyone had settled into their tents for the evening. Silently, you undid the front to your tent, ready to leave at any moment. Once you recognized Shadowheart's lantern to go out - the last light on in camp - you snuck out of your tent.

Across the camp, Astarion stayed put against the tree he had claimed earlier. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you watched him pause a few moments before checking around the camp to ensure everyone was sleeping. Once he thought he was alone, he darted into the woods.

Immediately leaving the rest of the party at camp vulnerable to attack.

"That son of a bitch..." You breathed, stalking into the woods behind him. You moved as quietly as possible, hoping to catch the sound of his running.

Nothing but silence met your ears.

Where did he go? You thought, moving in the general direction of where he sped off to. After a few minutes, you still couldn't find him. Frustrated, you groaned quietly, resting against a rock. Nothing but crickets answered your thought, causing you to grow annoyed.

Deciding to head back to camp, you started your journey back. There was no sense in trying to make enemies on your first night. You thought, trying to subdue the nagging feeling in the back of your mind. Suddenly, a hand gripped your wrist and pulled you back.

"And where, may I ask, are you going?" Astarion purred into your ear. You gasped and turned to him, his eyes gleaming against the moonlight. The former nagging feeling in the back of your mind turned into full blown suspicion.

There goes the whole "try not to make enemies on the first night".

"I should be asking you the same thing, First Watch." You coolly replied, flaring your nostrils, "Any particular reason why you left camp almost immediately after starting your first watch?"

"My dear, were you watching me?" Astarion's voice was still light - flirty, almost - even though you recognized that he was trying to get information out of you. He smirked.

"Answer the question, Astarion. Unless you have something to hide.” You retorted, crossing your arms. Trying to send a message – you were not one to be fucked with.

Astarion’s smirk faltered only slightly – if you weren’t paying attention, you wouldn’t have even noticed. He shifted his weight on his feet, tilting his head to the side. He was studying you…trying to figure out what to say next, how to proceed. You were making him sweat a bit, it seemed.

Good.

“Come now, darling, is this really how you’d like our relationship to start off?” His smirk was plastered back on his face again, his showmanship back to the front. “Starting on a bad note instead of good one? Think of all the fun we could have,” His voice was low, husky. He was trying to charm his way out of it, “And believe me, I know a thing or two about fun.”

You rolled you eyes, “Enough, Astarion. You don’t want to tell me why you decided to leave the camp vulnerable to attack approximately 30 seconds after you started first watch? Fine, by all means, don’t tell me,” You stepped closer to him, pointing a finger in his face, “But just know that I don’t trust you. Your charming act doesn’t fool me…you’re only looking out for yourself. Don’t come crawling to me when you need something, alright?”

“Oh, the dramatics from you!” Astarion huffed, laughing loudly, “And that’s saying something coming from me.”

“With the situation we’re in right now, I have no choice but to be cautious. And so far, you’re not making a good name for yourself,” You paused, taking him in. His eyes, though guilty, were also glittering. “Our lives are in each other’s hands, and if you prove yourself to be unworthy of that, I’d rather know sooner rather than later.”

“Oh fine,” Astarion said, finally seeming to give up, “If you want to throw a temper tantrum because I heard something in the woods, and decided to investigate – you know, the whole purpose of a first watch – then so be it. I’m not in the market to convince you,” He waved his hands as if to dismiss you, “Go off. Back to camp with you. You were so hasty to leave, after all.”

You narrowed your eyes – was he really coming to the woods to investigate? Something about his alibi seemed off – something wasn’t quite right. Without another word, you marched back to camp, you heart thundering. Not only because you were second-guessing yourself, but also because you had a feeling Astarion was hiding something from you.

Not just you, but the entire party.

You finally reached your tent and started to untie the straps holding the entrance together. As you quickly did your work, you noticed out the corner of your eye that Astarion was slowly walking back into camp, his eyes watching you. Once you finally undid the flaps, you stood and looked at him, holding his gaze. After a few moments, he smirked.

He was making sure you were going back into your tent.

To make sure he could get away with whatever he was doing.

You held his gaze for a moment more before slipping into your tent, a cold sweat breaking out onto your brow. You located your dagger on the floor of your tent and quickly slipped it under the pillow on your bedroll. You sighed heavily and pulled the blanket to your chin, your mind ablaze with the conversation with Astarion. You shut your eyes and willed for sleep unsuccessfully, tossing and turning for the next few hours.

You had a feeling this was going to be a long night.

---

Thank you all so much for reading! As always, reblogs, comments, and likes mean a ton to me, and helps me know if you want me to keep going with this!

[shares-a-vest]

had to write a Steve-centric Mother's Day thingy too. this one is sad like my Eddie one yesterday, but at least my boys are smiling by the end???

Mother's Day, 1998

Eddie tries not to watch from his prime position on the couch as Steve paces back and forward in the kitchen. He stops every now and then to linger by the phone mounted on the wall near the table.

Okay so maybe Eddie peers above his notebook once or twice and follows swiftly by looking down at Joanie, surrounded by a kaleidoscope of crayons as she colours at the coffee table. Steve sighs loud enough that the sound travels into the living room. Eddie listens as he punches in a number and walks off, presumably stretching the cord as far from earshot as possible.

"Shit," he curses.

"You swore," Joanie chimes, not looking up from her colouring book.

"I expect a freebie today, munchkin," he peeks out from his notebook to find Joanie glaring.

"...Fine," she agrees after a long pause.

He grumbles and scribbles out the most recent lines of his poem, the rhyming couplet suddenly feeling too saccharine for the general mood of today.

He should have known better, considering Steve emerged from the bedroom relatively late (for him) cradling his favourite sickly little furball Meatloaf like a baby - which he continued to do all morning. The poor thing is now teetering on the kitchen island, abandoned and desperate to get down.

Eddie hops up, rushing to the cat before he can get into too much trouble. Meatloaf whimpers, his meow more like a cry, regardless of whether his keeper has left him on his lonesome or not. He cringes at the sound. It's just so goddamn sad and certainly, a noise he could do without today especially.

He releases Meatloaf, now free to roam the apartment. But the scamp follows the phone cord stretching to the bedroom, his wobbly back legs catching and slipping every few steps as he hurries along, presumably on his way to get stuck under a piece of furniture.

Eddie makes a beeline back to the couch, not wanting to eavesdrop on Steve's phone call. He can hear murmuring, which he convinces himself is a good sign. At least Steve's mother actually picked up the phone this time.

Eddie tosses his notebook to the side, now uninterested in his tradition of writing a Mother's Day poem for his own mother. He chews at his nails, a fidgeting tactic to stop himself from twirling his hair. At least if he chews his nails, the worrying technique will be lost on Steve who won't be able to fixate on Eddie's feelings to distract himself.

"What going on?" Joanie wonders suspiciously, craning her neck to look down the hall.

"Uh…" he hums.

He really doesn't know how to answer. Mrs Harrington isn't exactly a frequent topic of conversation - if at all, for that matter.

"Is Dad calling Ganma?" Joanie's eyes light up at the enquiry.

If Eddie was feeling mean enough, he'd blame all of this on Dustin and Suzie. Traditionally they all spend Mother's Day doting over Claudia, aka, Joanie's precious Ganma (a toddler mispronunciation turned official familial title). But this year Dustin was far too busy with work to take time off, let alone a weekend plus a few days, so Claudia took it upon herself to travel to them. And, with Nancy and Robin back in Hawkins visiting Karen Wheeler, Eddie was left with Steve and Joanie in the city for Mother's Day weekend.

In hindsight, he should have called up Wayne to come for a fun-filled Pa-centric weekend instead.

Joanie walks over to the couch expecting an answer.

"Oh, uh. No, honey," he splutters, "Dad is calling his mom."

His daughter frowns, "Oh."

Yeah, kid. 'Oh' is an understatement.

Eddie pats the empty space next to him and Joanie reaches up with grabby hands, wanting uppies. He obliges.

Joanie fiddles with the buttons on the front of her unicorn-patterned onesie, lost in thought for a long while before cutting the silence with a heartbreaking, "He'll be happier when we call Ganma."

Eddie reaches for his notebook, deciding on writing his mom a verse about this blessing of a kid.

Steve soon comes back, hanging up the phone without a word and sets about making lunch. Eddie quickly scoops up Joanie and plops her on the floor to resume her colouring.

"Steve?" he asks tentatively as he practically tiptoes to the kitchen.

"What?" Steve snaps, tone biting.

He fusses with the twist tie at the top of their loaf of bread, not really committing to any of the sandwich-making efficiency he typically possesses.

"We could go out for lunch?" Eddie suggests, immediately regretting it.

"What, so we can see everyone celebrating Mother's Day? Even though my mom hates me? I shouldn't have done that... Idiot... Stupid."

Steve shakes his head.

"Sweetheart."

"I'm sorry," he whispers, voice throaty and strained, "Today is worse for you. I just set myself up to be upset."

He looks up, teary-eyed.

Eddie chops his hand through the air between them, insistent, "Completely difference circumstances, Stevie," he takes his hand and tugs, "Come sit down, I'll make us some lunch in a bit, yeah?"

They turn to exit the kitchen and are faced with Joanie, clutching her colouring book to her chest while Blondie and a surprisingly not lost Meatloaf circle her feet.

"Can we call Ganma now?"

Okay, so this kid is absolutely a precious little bean, a blessing who is the light of Eddie and Steve's lives in ways they can barely articulate sometimes.

But she often lacks the ability to read the room as she escorts her battalion of cats around the apartment.

Eddie could blame the sheer amount of time Joanie spends with Robin 'I Don't Have A Strong Grasp of Social Cues' Buckley, but he knows he is the exact goddamn same.

Steve pinches his nose before removing his glasses to rub at his eyes, "Yeah, baby, we can call Ganma."

He recovers enough to check his watch, needing to extend his arm almost fully to see it. Meanwhile, Eddie quickly shoos Joanie back to the living room as he picks up the phone.

They let Joanie take the reins, watching on from the couch as she excitedly recounts her week at preschool to Claudia (and she spoils the gift they had bought that is currently in transit while she's at it).

Eddie feels Steve sinks down in his seat and lean into his side.

"You wanna talk about it?" Eddie asks, trying to remain casual by doodling in the margins of his now-finished poem.

"Maybe later," Steve breathes heavily.

"We aren't doing this again, staying here. We'll at least see Wayne for the weekend."

Before Steve can argue, Joanie is waving the phone in Steve's face. He takes it and sniffles.

"Happy Mother's Day, Claudia," he says, clearing his throat, "I love you."

Whatever Claudia says in return, it's enough to make Steve smile.

more of this informal au HERE

[sequinsmile-x]

i know we don't know much about Hotch's family in the show, but i keep seeing these 'toxic mother in law' videos on tiktok and wondered if you'd write something where he tells off his mom when she's rude to emily? like specifically after they've had a baby

BESTIE

When I tell you I haven't stopped thinking about this I mean it. It has been a while since something got away from me like this, so I really hope you like it.

-x-

For the Better

Emily knew that Aaron's relationship with his mother wasn't great to begin with and she didn’t want to come between them, didn’t want to pull at already loose threads by telling him his mother was sometimes rude to her.

AKA - The one where Emily has a tense relationship with her mother-in-law

-x-

Words: 5.3k

Warnings: Toxic mother-in-law, mommy issues

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“I feel sick.” 

Aaron suppresses a smile as he looks at his girlfriend, aware that if she thought he was making fun of her he’d be in trouble. He looks her up and down, clocking the tension in her shoulders, in her jaw, and the way her cuticles already look torn to shreds. Her eyes flick back to the front door and then her watch, and she raises her hand. He walks over and wraps one arm around her waist whilst his other hand stops hers on the way to her mouth, kissing her knuckles and smiling softly before she can continue to chew on her nail bed. 

“Sweetheart,” he says softly, squeezing her hip reassuringly, “You’re just meeting my mom.” 

She furrows her brows at him, pulling back from his comforting embrace just enough for her eyes to meet his. 

“There is no just about this, Aaron,” she says, her chest tight whilst her stomach flipped, butterflies she didn’t quite understand making her feel nauseous. This was important, more important than she cared to admit even to herself. She was meeting his mom. She sighs and shakes her head, furious at herself for feeling as anxious as she does as she rests her head on his shoulder. “What if she doesn’t like me?” 

She says it so quietly he doesn’t pick up on it at first. He furrows his brow at the absurdity of it, “Baby, what are you talking about? Everyone falls in love with you the moment they meet you.” 

“You didn’t,” she quips, her eyebrows raised in challenge, and he sighs, a beat of silence passing between them before he tries again. He cups her cheek and turns her so she’s looking at him properly. 

“That’s only because I thought you were so beautiful I felt guilty because I was still married to Haley.” 

She rolls her eyes and hums as she fights a smile, “You do love to re-write that part of our history, don’t you?” 

He answers her question with a smile and leans in to stamp a kiss against her lips. He can almost taste her nerves, the intensity of them uncharacteristic, and any humour he had found in the situation so far disappears. Immediately replaced by worry that only she or Jack could make him feel. 

He won’t tell her that he’s slightly anxious too because he doesn’t want to make her feel worse. This relationship with his mother had always been strained. She overcompensated for where his father had failed, overbearing to try to make up for the violence that had permeated everything in their home that made him feel smothered even as a kid, a feeling that had only grown as he had. His relationship with his mother relied on the fact she lived so far away, their relatively limited contact and the few and far between bearable because he knew they were rare. 

He changes tactics when he sees Emily isn’t any calmer at all, and he kisses her forehead, desperate to get to the bottom of why she was finding this so nervewracking. Why his usually unflappable girlfriend was acting like she was about to enter into a life-or-death situation. 

“Em,” he says, his voice as soft as his touch as he strokes her cheek, “What’s this all about? I’ve seen you stare down serial killers without blinking. Hell, you were an undercover spy at one point,” he smiles when she does, pride and joy sparking in his gut at the fact he’s able to draw such a reaction out of her even when she was stressed, “You’re acting like you’ve never met a partner’s parent’s before.” 

Her eyes go wide and her breath catches in her chest, and she knows her momentary reaction is enough for him to read, his eyebrows raising almost to his hairline as he watches her closely. 

Sometimes she really hated that he was so good at his job. 

“You…have met someone you’ve dated parents before, right?” 

She blows out a breath, “Yes,” she says firmly, sighing again when he looks at her with disbelief painted across his face, “Once. It was my college boyfriend and his mom hated me because she walked in on us having sex in his dorm room.”

Aaron clears his throat to stop himself from laughing, “Sweetheart, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad-”

“That’s how I met her, Aaron,” she says firmly, cutting across him. She narrows her eyes as she watches him press his lips together, clearly trying not to laugh at her, and she lightly pushes at his chest in retribution whilst making no attempt to actually pull away from him, “Don’t laugh at me, it was so embarrassing.” 

He leans in to kiss her, mumbling his apology against her lips, “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you I promise,” he says, kissing her forehead before he pulls back, “And this is completely different. We know she’s on her way, she asked to meet you,” he pauses and smiles at her, “We’re both fully clothed.” 

“Aaron, I swear to Go-”

“Em,” he says, smiling as he pulls her closer, “It will be fine, I promise.” 

She blows out a shaky breath and nods, wanting to believe him more than anything, “I know,” she says, swallowing thickly, “It’s just…it’s important. It’s you,” she says, running her fingers through his hair, “This isn’t just any guy’s mother that I’m meeting. It’s yours,” she presses her lips together as she avoids his eye contact, her cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment, “She’ll be my mother-in-law one day.” 

It was something they both knew they wanted. They’d spoken about marriage and children and everything that came with them only a couple of weeks into dating. She knew it was something that would have scared her if it was with anyone else, the speed of the relationship was unlike anything else she’d ever known, but with him, it felt right. Perfect. It’s why they’d recently bought the house they were standing in despite the fact they’d only been together for a year. It was a solid foundation for the life they were building together, the place they called home. 

He smiles as he tucks her hair behind her ear, “Yes she will be,” he confirms, hooking a finger under her chin to make her look at him, “And she’ll love you.” 

She wants to ask him how he knows that, but the doorbell rings and she feels herself get tense again, her shoulders tight as she looks at the door, “Here we go.” 

“You’ll be fine,” Aaron assures her before kisses her once more and pulls away, “And if all else fails,” he says, winking at her before he walks towards the door, “Just remember she lives four states away and isn’t in town very often.” 

She laughs and shakes her head at him, her arms crossed over her chest as she watches him walk to the front door. It was still hard to believe sometimes that someone loved her as much as Aaron did. A love that was both fierce and gentle, something that was somehow always exactly what she needed. He turns and winks at her before he opens the door. 

“Mom, hi,” he says, pulling the woman into a hug, “Come in.” 

Emily feels frozen in place as he closes the door and leads his mother over. Theresa Hotchner was shorter than Emily expected her to be. She immediately realised how much Aaron looks like his mother. It answers questions she never realised she had, showing her where the features she hopes her children will inherit one day had come from. 

“Mom,” Aaron says, smiling as he comes to a stop a couple of paces away from Emily, “This is Emily,” he looks at his girlfriend, “Emily, this is my mom - Theresa.” 

“Lovely to meet you,” Emily says, reaching out to shake her hand. She breathes out in shock when Theresa pulls her into a hug.

“Nice to meet you too,” Theresa says as she pulls back, a smile fixed on her face, “My son has told me almost nothing about you, apart from your name and that you work with him.” 

Emily looks at her boyfriend briefly and she chuckles, “Well, he’s never been much of a talker.” 

Aaron steps towards Emily and wraps his arm around her waist, “That’s why you’re here for dinner, Mom,” he says as he starts to lead them to the dining room, “So you can get to know each other.” 

Dinner, overall, goes better than Emily anticipated. Once she gets into the swing of things it feels like the many dinners she’s had with her own mother, a small performance of sorts that she’d perfected at a young age. By the time they are eating dessert, a cheesecake that Penelope had made them, she almost feels relaxed. 

“So, Emily,” Theresa says, leaning back in her chair, “You never said what your parents do for a living.”

Emily feels Aaron place his hand on her knee, a reassuring squeeze to her joint that he always gave her whenever her parents were mentioned, an automatic reaction of sorts she’s sure he isn’t even aware of. 

“They are both US ambassadors,” she says, reaching for her wine and taking a sip, “I haven’t seen my father since I was young, but my mom is currently based out of DC.” 

“Currently?” Theresa asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“Emily travelled a lot when she was growing up,” Aaron says, squeezing her knee again, “She and her mom moved around for her postings,” his phone starts to ring from his pocket and he digs it out, sighing when he sees Strauss’s name on the screen, “She can speak several languages. Sorry,” he says, standing up and pointing at his phone, “I just have to take this.” 

Emily is sure she’s never disliked Strauss more as she’s left alone with Theresa, but she smiles at her boyfriend as he walks away. She turns back to Theresa, who is eyeing her curiously. 

“So…you’re well off then?” Theresa asks, and Emily feels her shoulders get tighter, something about the other woman’s tone almost accusatory. She clears her throat and nods. 

“My family have always been lucky,” she says diplomatically. She always hated discussing money, how it changed the way people looked at her. She still remembered how awful she had felt when she initially told Aaron just how rich she was, and the look on his face when she said she could buy the house they now lived in outright, “I was very privileged to grow up the way I did.” 

She knows it’s not how she feels, that she would have given anything to not always be the new kid, to know how it felt to have roots so it wasn’t something she had to learn now she was in her 40s, but she knew from experience that wasn’t what people liked to hear. She had to be grateful for what she had, otherwise, she was just spoiled. 

Theresa clicks her tongue and reaches for her wine, “The house makes sense now,” she says, looking around at it, her eyes briefly landing on a picture of Emily and Jack that was hanging on the wall, “I thought it was a bit much for two FBI agents.” 

Emily clenches her jaw, her walls going up immediately, the need to protect herself, her home, from anyone including Aaron’s mother, instinctual. Before either of them can say anything else Aaron walks back into the room, shaking his head as he puts his phone back in his pocket. 

“Sorry about that,” he says, taking his place back next to Emly at the dining table, “She just wanted to double-check some paperwork,” he looks back and forth between his mother and his girlfriend and he frowns when he feels something in the air he can’t name, “Is everything okay?” 

Theresa smiles and nods, “Of course, sweetie,” she says, turning her attention back to Emily, her smile never shifting, “I was just telling Emily how lovely your house is.” 

Emily sits back and listens as Aaron talks to his mother about how they’d looked for a long time before they found the perfect place, a sense of dread pooling in her gut. 

She had a feeling this was only the beginning of what felt like it was going to be a tense relationship. 

___

Emily had never been this happy. 

She smiles as she rests her head on her husband's shoulder, sighing contentedly as she watches Jack dance with her mother, laughter flowing from both of them in a way that makes her heart sing. 

The wedding was small, something they’d both wanted. It was just their friends and family in Dave’s backyard. The ceremony took place at sunset and now those who were left, Jessica, the team, Jack, and Emily and Aaron’s mothers, were enjoying the last hour or so before they’d head home. 

Aaron kisses the top of her head and she tilts it to look up at him, capturing his smile in a kiss as he leans down, “You okay sweetheart?” 

She nods and kisses him again, “I’m more than okay,” she says, cupping his cheek as he kisses her again. 

“Do you want anything?” He asks, trailing his fingers up and down her arm. He nods towards Dave, the older man standing several feet away, a knowing smile on his face, “Dave said something about vintage scotch he’s kept hold of for our wedding for 5 years.” 

“The old man is full of shit,” she says, purposely speaking loudly enough for Dave to hear, rolling her eyes as he winks at her before she turns her attention to her husband, “We’ve only been together for two years.” 

Aaron shrugs as he kisses her again, the action lost to their wide smiles, “He says he always knew,” he says as he kisses her once more, “So do you want some? Apparently, I have to help him get it from the cellar.”  

She nods, “I’d like some, thank you,” she says, stamping a kiss against his lips before he stands up. She reaches for his hand and squeezes it, the feel of his ring against her skin making her giddy, “Make sure you bring the whole bottle.” 

Aaron smiles at her before he walks away, “Anything for you sweetheart.” 

She bites her lip as she watches him go, her eyes drifting to his ass as it moves in his suit. She jumps slightly as she hears a clearing of a throat, and her eyes go wide as she realises Theresa has slid into the seat next to her. She presses her lips together as she tries to get over the flash of embarrassment she felt at being caught staring at her husband’s ass by her mother-in-law, and she smiles at the other woman. 

“Theresa, hi.”

“I just thought I’d come to see how my new daughter-in-law is doing,” she says, an edge creeping into her smile that she always seemed to save for Emily, “I remember from experience how overwhelming this can be.” 

Emily breathes in a slow breath, something she’d learnt she had to do a lot around Theresa the first day they’d met. She’d rarely been outright rude to her, but the comments, specifically when they were alone, always felt passive-aggressive. 

She’d never mentioned it to Aaron. She knew his relationship with his mother wasn’t all that great to begin with, and she didn’t want to come between them, didn’t want to pull at already loose threads. Theresa was important to Aaron and to Jack, a rare familial connection that both of them had been largely robbed of through no fault of their own, and she didn’t want to be responsible for it falling apart around them. 

She wondered at times if this was what a relationship with a mother was supposed to be like. If she was misreading Theresa’s comments as passive-aggressive when she was simply just interested. Elizabeth never asked any questions without a motive, so Emily had always grown up assuming there was one. She wanted so badly to give Theresa the benefit of the doubt, for Aaron to maintain his relationship with his mother, that she let things slide. 

“I’m great, thank you,” she answers, smiling as she looks back out at the small party happening around her, “Today’s been perfect.” 

Theresa hums, and for a moment Emily thinks that’s it, but she’d never been that lucky. 

“I suppose with such a simple wedding there isn’t much to stress about,” Theresa says, her smile consistent as she looks back at Emily, “When Aaron married Haley they spent what little money they had on it, almost put themselves into debt.” 

Emily clenches her teeth and reaches for the glass of champagne in front of her, draining half of it in one go. Money was always something that her mother-in-law brought up, a sticking point she’d never quite jumped off of since she’d first found out Emily’s background. 

“We only wanted something simple,” Emily says, smiling tightly at her, “Neither of us wanted the fuss.” 

Theresa nods, seemingly agreeing with her, “Of course not. Aaron’s done it all before, and you’re not exactly a young blushing bride.” 

It’s the closest Theresa has ever come to being outright rude to her, and Emily’s mouth falls open slightly in shock. For a moment she forgets where she is, and she furrows her brow, ready to go on the defensive. 

“Excuse-”

“Emily,” Jack says, running over, his excitement over it being the long-awaited wedding day far outweighing the usual tiredness he’d feel at this time, “Come dance with me.” 

The fight drains out of her as quickly as it had pooled, the wide smile Jack exchanges with his grandmother enough to snuff out the spark that had threatened to catch fire deep in her belly. She sighs and she nods, smiling at Theresa as she stands up.

“I’ve been beckoned,” she says, purposely being over-polite as she reaches for Jack’s hand, looking at Theresa for a beat longer than necessary as she allows the little boy to lead her to the dance floor. She smiles at Jack as they face each other, all other feelings other than overwhelming love disappearing as she looks down at his face, “Have you had a good day, sweet boy?” 

He wraps his arms around her tightly and nods, his face pressed against her, “The best day,” he says, leaning back to look at her, his grip around her middle not loosening at all, “You’re officially my mom now.” 

It takes everything in her not to cry and she hugs him back just as tightly, her hand buried in his hair as she leans down to kiss the top of his head. She takes a moment to enjoy it, to feel everything she never thought she’d get to feel, and she knows she’d take the barbed comments from Theresa her whole life if it meant she got to have this. 

“Come on, Jack,” she says, smiling down at him as she pulls back from the hug “Let’s dance.” 

___

Emily yawns as she paces the living room, her lips pressed against her daughter’s head as she walks back and forth, her hand rubbing circles on the newborn’s back. 

“You’re okay, baby,” she whispers, kissing the little girl’s soft skin, “You’re okay, Mommy’s got you.” 

Hazel was two weeks old, and so far had made two things clear - she wasn’t a fan of sleep, and she was obsessed with Emily. Aaron tried to help as much as he could, ensuring Emily got as much rest as possible, but very often Emily was the one who got up in the night with the baby, Hazel’s preference for nursing as opposed to bottle feeding clear from the start. 

She was born three weeks early, coming into the world with determination that Aaron said matched even that of his wife. Emily found it hard to believe that she was still technically supposed to be pregnant, that if she’d gone to term she still wouldn’t know the weight of her daughter against her chest, or have had the opportunity to memorise every single one of Hazel’s perfect features. 

It was a love that she couldn’t describe, instantaneous and overwhelming. It hadn’t faded at all since she’d first been handed her little girl, and if anything it had only grown over the last few weeks, something that she would have claimed was impossible when she was still sitting in her hospital bed. 

Hazel’s cries start to quieten down and Emily looks down at her, smiling when she sees the baby is finally drifting off to sleep. She walks slowly over to the couch and lowers them down onto it, wincing slightly as she tries to get comfortable, the tear she’d experienced during labour almost absurd when she considered how tiny her little girl was. 

“Let’s just sit here for a little while,” she says, making sure Hazel is comfortable against her chest, tucking her into Aaron’s old button-down shirt she was wearing to keep her warm, “We’ll have some Mommy and Hazel time.”

She sighs contentedly as she settles into the couch, and she closes her eyes for a second, allowing herself a moment to enjoy the feel of her daughter against her chest and the relative peace of a house that always seemed to be on the go. 

Her brief stint of silence is cut short as she hears footsteps on the stairs. She freezes for a moment, well aware of who it is, the footfall too heavy for it to be Jack and too light for it to be Aaron, and she blows out a breath, shaking her head as she kisses Hazel’s dark hair.

“Here we go, Haze,” she whispers, “Here comes Grandma.” 

Theresa had come into town that day specifically to meet her granddaughter. Emily had been clear from the start that she didn’t want visitors the first couple of weeks while they got Hazel settled at home. It was something that Elizabeth and the team had agreed to, albeit reluctantly at first, because they knew how much it meant to her. 

Theresa, however, had been different. She hadn’t kept her disappointment hidden at all, commenting whenever she spoke to her son that she didn’t want to miss her grandchild’s first couple of weeks of life, that she wanted to be there as soon as she could just like she had been when Jack was born. 

It wasn’t lost on Emily that her mother-in-law hadn’t had to change her flights when Hazel came early, and she found herself strangely grateful she wouldn’t have to try to stop herself from taking her bait when she was heavily pregnant. 

Emily smiles as Theresa comes into view, and makes a point of keeping her voice quiet, hoping that her mother-in-law takes the hint to do the same, “Sorry if we woke you,” she says, “She needed feeding so I brought her down her so we wouldn’t wake the whole house.” 

Theresa smiles and walks over, sitting on the other end of the couch, “It’s alright,” she says, “Although I don’t know how Jack sleeps through it.” 

Emily presses her lips together, “He has earplugs,” she says, looking down at Hazel, grateful that the baby is still asleep against her, “I left some on your nightstand in case you needed them too.” 

The other woman waves her off, “And what if I slept through you needing my help,” she says dismissively, “I know you’ve never done this before so I wanted to make sure I was available.” 

Emily grinds her teeth for a moment, tightening her hold on her daughter, “We’re fine, I promise. You can go back to bed.” 

Theresa sighs and shifts to get a better look at Hazel, making Emily grateful she’d worn a nursing bra and a cami under the button-down, “I’ve already missed so much,” she says, shaking her head, “I was here the moment Jack was born, but she’s so big already.” 

“She’s still smaller than Jack was when he was born,” Emily says before she can stop herself, her exhaustion and everything else that came with having a newborn stopping her usually effective filter, “When Aaron holds her she’s no bigger than his hand.” 

Hazel starts to fuss, immediately drawing Emily’s attention to her, and she shushes her. She rubs her hand up and down her back and whispers nonsense against her forehead, well aware that Hazel wasn’t even fully awake. 

“Let me take her for a little while, Emily. You look exhausted.” 

Emily shakes her head and looks at her mother-in-law, “That’s okay, she gets fussier when someone else holds her,” she says, resting her cheek against the top of her daughter’s head, “She seems to be all about me at the moment.” 

It was normal, she knew that. All the books said that babies were attached to their moms at first, and that they had no way of determining that they were a separate entity from their mother. There was something about that Emily found both beautiful and devastating, never quite wanting it to end but also recognising it had to. 

She wondered when she stopped feeling like a part of her own mother, or if Elizabeth had ever sat up with her like this in the middle of the night. 

“You can’t always give her what she wants you know,” Theresa says, “In my day we just let babies cry it out.” 

Emily smiles tightly at her, her patience paper thin as she tries to keep herself calm, “And that’s fine, but that’s not what Aaron and I want to do. If she cries it means she wants something,” she says, looking back down at the now re-settled Hazel, “And she’s only two weeks old so I want to make sure she has what she needs.” 

“Well, if you carry on she’s just going to grow up spoiled like you did.” 

There’s a beat of silence whilst Theresa’s words hang in the air around them, but before Emily can say anything, before she can react any further than the way she holds Hazel impossibly closer, she’s cut off by a voice in the doorway. 

“What did you just say to her?” 

Emily and Theresa look at Aaron at the same time. Neither one of them had heard him walk down the stairs or approach the living room. He looks furious, barely able to contain it after not sleeping for more than a couple of hours at a time for the last two weeks. Emily can see the tension in his frame, his hands in fists at his sides as he looks at his mother. 

“Aaron,” Theresa says, recovering first, a smile painted over her face, “Emily and I were just-”

“You don’t get to talk to my wife like that,” he says, cutting his mother off as she stands up to get closer to him. 

“Aaron,” Emily says, smiling tightly at him as he looks at her, “It’s okay.” 

“It’s not okay,” he demands, straining to keep his voice quiet, not wanting to wake Hazel up when he knows how much work it took to get her asleep. He looks back at his mother, who looks more ashamed she was overheard rather than sorry for what she said, “This is our house, and Hazel is our baby. Emily is my wife. If you can’t respect her, you’re not welcome here at all.” 

Theresa laughs humourlessly, “Now, Aaron you’re being-”

“Go to bed Mom,” he says, his glare stern as his eyes meet hers, “We’ll talk about this in the morning when we’ve all had a little more sleep,” he continues to stare at her and she looks like she’s going to argue, her eyebrows furrowing as she opens her mouth, but he stops her, “Go to bed.” 

Theresa nods and walks out of the room, her shoulders slumped as she leaves them alone, the tension she leaves behind still lingering in the air as they hear her receding footsteps on the stairs. 

Emily watches from the couch as Aaron stands frozen in place, his hands on his hips as he stares at the ground. She waits for him to do something, to say something, but he doesn’t, so she clears her throat softly. His head snaps up as he looks at her, almost as if he was remembering she was in the room. 

“You didn’t have to tell her off,” she says, “It really is okay.”

He frowns and shakes his head, walking over and joining her on the couch. “It’s not okay, Em,” he says, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, making sure he’s gentle as he pulls his girls towards him, “It’s never okay when anyone speaks to you like that. Especially when it’s my mother,” he presses a kiss to her temple and closes his eyes, giving himself a moment to calm down as he breathes her in, something that fails as an awful thought occurs to him, “Has she…has she spoken to you like that before?” 

Emily huffs out a breath, “Never quite like that,” she says honestly, never wanting to lie to him, “But there have been…comments in the past.” 

He pulls back to look at her, horror pooling in his gut at the revelation. He has no idea how he’s missed it, how he’s never picked up on anything other than the slight awkwardness he’d noticed in the past. He’d put it down to the fact his mom and Emily were very different people, that he was the only thing they had in common. They weren’t natural friends, not by a long shot, but he’d never had a hint that they didn’t get along.

“What do you mean comments? How long has this been going on?” 

“Since the day I met her.” 

His eyes go so wide she’s sure that in any other circumstance, she’d laugh, “What?” He asks, a little too loudly, and then they both go quiet, their eyes fixed on Hazel as she continues to sleep. He starts again, making sure he’s quieter this time, “Why did you never tell me?” 

She sighs and shrugs, careful not to disturb their daughter, “I didn’t want to get between you,” she says, and she looks down at Hazel, unable to stop the smile that spreads across her face, “And for a long time I kind of thought she was acting like a mom should.” 

Aaron furrows his brows at her, and despite himself, despite the situation, he chuckles, “You thought a mom was supposed to be…mean?” 

She rolls her eyes as she looks back at him, “Overbearing,” she corrects him, and she unhooks one arm from around the baby and squeezes his knee a little too hard, “Give me a break. I don’t exactly have a good example to work with,” she raises her eyebrow at him, “You have met my mother right?” 

He smiles and leans in to kiss her. He rests his forehead against hers as he pulls away, “I am sorry about my mom, sweetheart,” he says, kissing her again, “I’ll deal with her in the morning.” 

“It’s not your fault,” she says, “Just like it’s not my fault whenever my mom manages to mention you used to ‘be the help’ when I was in college,” she smiles when he laughs and she leans into his side. They both look at Hazel, who was content and asleep against her mother’s chest. Safe and loved and happy, and wholly unaware of the complications that came with life, “We’ll do better, won’t we?” 

He nods in response to her soft question, the hope curled around every word warming him from the inside out. He kisses her temple and whispers against her skin.

“We already are.” 

-x-

Tag List:

@ssa-sparks, @lukeclvez, @lyds102, @glockleveledatyourcrotch, @hotchnissenthusiast, @danadeservesadrink, @ssamorganhotchner, @emilyprentissisgod, @notagentprentiss, @freesiasandfics, @emilyshotchniss, @thecharmingart, @paulitalblond, @gravyfan, @camille093, @whitecrossgirl, @moonlight-2-6, @rawr-jess, @florenceremingtonthethird, @jareauswife, @ms-black-a, @beebeelank, @aubreyprc, @zipzapboingg, @psychopath-at-heart, @criminalmindsgonewrong, @fionaloover, @kinqslcys, @prentissinred, @ccmattis-22, @denvivale317, @thrindis, @hotchsguccitie, @cmfouatslota77, @alexblakegf, @aliensaurusrex @prentissxhotch, @emobabeyy, @victoiregranger, @stormyweatherth, @wanderingdreamer009 @ssablackbird, @luhwithah, @lex13cm, @prentiss-theorem, @dont-emily-me, @mrs-ssa-hotch, @jocyycreation, @itsmytimetoodream, @hotchissgroupie, @controversialpooh, @capsshinyshield, @canuck-eh

Join my tag list here!

[bronx-bomber87]

Good Evening and Happy Tuesday. Ahhh we’ve reached glorious s4 aka the season where Tim and Lucy emotionally date each other while they’re in relationships without realizing it LOL The amount of emotional intimacy we get in this season is unreal. We get more growth for them both personally and professionally. Also the insane amount of work flirts is crazy but amazing. I love this season so much. Let’s get going with the premiere.

4x01 Life and Death

When we last left our gang Angela was abducted from her wedding. We start the ep out with an intense OP in progress. Tim asking Wade if they have permission to enter? Grey has a flashback to Angela’s original disappearance before he answers. We hear Lucy saying Jackson is gone along with Angela. We end up in Grey’s office with a gruesome video of their abduction.

We watch as Angela is loaded into a van and Jackson is taken as well. It’s then we see Jackson fight back but he is shot and killed immediately. Loaded into the trunk like cargo. It's horrifying to witness tbh. Watching everyone’s reactions is crushing. They’re all in shock at what they’ve just seen. Can’t believe it’s happened. Lucy’s kills me the most. Harper and Tim are shell shocked. Nolan is a statue. Grey looking as devastated as I’ve ever seen him.

What was supposed to be this momentous and happy occasion is anything but. Lucy just lost her best friend in the blink of an eye. Hurts to watch. All of them are stunned into silence. I remember watching the premiere thinking no way they just killed Jackson right? He must be ok....Just wounded..... Unfortunately that is not the case. We lose him to La Fiera’s senseless violence. I rewound the scene to make sure. I was so stunned I couldn't grasp it. Ugh. It's such a heartbreaking way to start the season off.

Grey comes back to the present and confirms Jackson been killed when replying to the Tactical Leader. The leader saying they need more time before they breach. Grey lets him know been 3 hours since Jackson was killed and Angela was taken. He wants his people to go in he can't wait. Tells Tim and the others to breach now. They’re searching the warehouse where they tracked the car that took her. They make it inside and see the car is empty. Lopez’s wedding dress on the ground.

Lucy goes to grab it when Nolan stops her. Says there’s a trip wire and it leads or C4 under the car. They head back out and request the bomb squad. Saying they can’t track the next vehicle till the scene is clear. As they’re leaving Nolan spots the dirt road outside it. Actually has useful information for once saying they took a plane not a car….

We return to Lucy with Nolan at the station. She’s currently beating herself up for not catching that trip wire. You just lost your best friend love. It’s ok to be a little unfocused. Lucy is breaking my damn heart. Anytime she cries it just hurts to watch. Melissa crushing it over here. The way she loses it over talking about Jackson hurts my soul. She’s wearing her medal he gave her too. Killing me softly with the details. I want to hug her but Tim will cover that for me shortly.

She asks if Nolan if he really thinks Lopez is alive? He says yes. Harper and Tim enter asking why he thinks that? They all start theorizing why she took Angela and where. Tim tells them they have to look at it with cop eyes not personal ones. Lucy brings up the baby. How they bonded over motherhood. That psychologically she could see how Angela betrayed that bond when Diego died. The best revenge would be to take her baby..So dark and twisted.

Grey comes in and tells them the DEA isn’t going to help them due to politics. That being the short answer. Really just red tape BS. Their main focus is finding Jackson’s killer which will hopefully give them a beat on Angela. They figure out Jackson scratched his killer as his final act. Knew he was going to die so he took his DNA with him. They’re rushing results to find out who and that he’s hopefully in the system. He went out like a bad ass doing that gotta say.

Grey tells them all to get some rest if they can. I love her letting Nolan pass by her first. Hanging back for Tim. Needing to show her deepest vulnerabilities with him only. Craving his comfort and a deeper convo with her person. Her and Nolan had a surface talk earlier. What she needs is so much more than that right now. So she naturally turns to Tim. Waits for them to be alone before spilling her emotional guts completely.

First off let me say I love the height difference shot here. Feel like we haven’t had a significant one in a hot minute. I’ll always love the tall/smol between them. Gives me ship tinglies in a way I can not put into words. Hehe Also what seems like intentional distance between them during this scene. Because we know what’s coming in their next one. Zero space between them.

Lucy confiding in Tim how she can’t go back to her apt right now. To his empty room...it’s far too much for her at the moment. Tim instantly offers up his place to her. Saying she shouldn’t have to. No hesitation whatsoever offering up solace with him. That part of himself he can’t explain with her taking the wheel in this moment. All he knows is she’s hurting and he wants to help her hurt less. It’s an innate reaction of his to protect her emotionally. Even when he doesn’t understand it. It’s that instinct that drives this decision.

Lucy being Lucy doesn’t want to impose on him. Even when she’s intensely grieving she’s thinking of others. Thing is she is anything but an imposition to Tim. Never has been never will be. He reinforces his offer telling her she shouldn’t be alone right now. Tim isn't taking no for an answer. He see's she is hurting and vulnerable so he wants to protect that. Protect her.

No way he was he going to relax or get sleep of any kind knowing how upset she was. Lucy caves and accepts his sweet offer. Too tired and emotionally drained to fight him any further on it. Tells him Thanks and Tim is brief in his reply. 'Yeah.' Just wanting to get her out of the station to decompress. Get her away from anything that will remind her of Jackson right now.

Next is the moment that is burned into all of our memories. So many facets of this moment to dissect. It’s glorious. Tim being chivalrous takes the couch. Or tries to at least. Lucy won’t allow it at all. Tim says he can’t let a guest sleep on the couch. They battle a little and Lucy wins. (Cause Wifey usually wins ha) Tim gets up and you can tell he wants to do more for her. Erase her pain or comfort her more. He just isn't sure how...

He asks her if she needs anything? Lucy almost replicating her reply in 2x12 about time travel. Tim once again wishing he had the ability to reverse time for her. If he could engineer a time machine just to take her hurt away it would be built already. No doubt in my mind he would move heaven and earth to make that happen. Instead he replies he unfortunately doesn’t have that power. So Lucy asks for something he most definitely can give. A hug. Love her being this vulnerable and asking him for what she really needs.

Then comes this beautifully intimate hug. It’s the way he pulls her in as she’s falling apart. She is clinging to Tim like he’s the only thing that will keep her together. (Good shot of that ring too..pretty sure that’s intentional) How she folds into arms effortlessly and buries herself in his chest. Like she was always meant to fit there. A puzzle piece fitting perfectly into place.

How gently he cradles her head. So delicate with his hand. It's so tender and affectionate. Encasing her in his arms fully. Space is not a word they know in this moment. It's like he’s trying to shield her from her pain by enveloping her completely. Strokes her hair in a very intimate manner. While she is clinging to him for dear life. Their chemistry is explosive in just the hug alone. I'm getting overwhelmed with feels just writing about this. The way he pulls away is very telling. It’s not just an instant break from their hug.

Tim lingers in his proximity to her. You can see it in the 4th gif above. Running his hands down her arms very slowly. Like he’s trying to extend his time touching her. Waiting to the very last inch to let go. Even when he runs out of real estate he gives her a little affectionate squeeze. Lucy isn’t adding to their distance either. Her head still very close to his chest when they part ways from this hug. She looks like she isn't ready for it to end. Her body still instinctively leaning toward his.

Tim still hasn’t stopped touching her yet. Look at that first gif. He’s still rubbing her other arm as he gazes down at her. The vulnerable way Lucy is looking up at him. *oh my lord* Still leaning into his touch. Into him. The intense shared glances they have here is electric. Lightning in a bottle chemistry goodness is what this is. I remember first time I watched this I felt like my skin was tingling with excitement. Couldn’t believe they were staring at each other like this. How they looked liked they could possibly kiss. I held my breath.

It’s that magnetic pull of theirs. They’re drawn to one another in general. This is the first time they’ve been this close to each other. Probably since the 2x11 moment where he cradled her. But this is much much different. Tim is the one to break it off before they lean into each other any further. I think he knows what will happen if he doesn’t stop this. Tim being the honorable man he is won’t take advantage of her in this state.

I also think this is Tim's ‘Uh Oh’ moment with Lucy. Man isn’t aware of his feelings just yet (ain’t even close to being ready for that) but he is VERY aware of his attraction in this moment. He can't fight the fact he is attracted to Lucy anymore. That much is obvious with this entire hug and his touches. He just showed his hand to her. One he had so tightly guarded to his chest for so long. So he cuts it off before it can develop into something more. Is the one with more self control by telling her good night. Lucy's face after he’s walked away looks like she just had an epiphany. Like ‘Oh shit I’m in love with Tim Bradford..’ Melissa’s face says it all for me.

It falls in line with the she fell first he fell harder scenario. It’s then we see them both trying to come down from their emotional high. The adrenaline of being that close to one another. What almost happened. This moment reminds me of one of my all time fav Caskett moments. Castle watches Beckett go to her hotel room after a similar almost kissed moment. He stares at the closed door and you see Beckett fighting with herself on the other side. Debating to open the door. By the time she gets the guts to open it Castle is long gone into his room.

The way they both stare in the others direction with intense longing. *heart damn clutch* Tim can’t get settled and neither can Lucy. Both trying to process the intense moment they just had. She looks like she’s having an internal battle with herself above. We say Lucy breaks Tim brain a lot and she does. But in this moment Tim has broken her's and she is having an internal struggle after they part.

Now Lucy is the one who decides to go for it. Can’t take sitting in her thoughts any longer. Stares at his bedroom door and gets up. She instantly retreats when she hears him come back into the room. Scurrying back to the couch so Tim doesn’t know what her plans were. Tim telling her Wesley knows where Angela is. The mood shifting completely.

Makes you wonder what her plans were had Tim not gotten that call. Was she going to knock on his door? Just give him a look and they would give into their emotions? I mean she must’ve had a plan of some sort. Possibly relying on that silent communication of theirs to say everything for her? The UST in this moment is off the charts. It’s the first time either of them are truly aware of the sexual tension between them. It really hit Lucy hard with her wanting to act on it.

I’ll always be happy with the way they got together. I adore the canon version. Them getting together in this moment would’ve been very messy. But I adore the tease we got to start the season for them. Was a very promising sign. I remember thinking damn this season gonna be amazing. It felt like it was their pre-get together season. And it was exactly that. Also I'll never be over the fact she’s in his clothes and wearing them damn well might I add. I am dead this scene so so good haha

Everyone arrives at Tim’s place for next steps. Also is no one going to question why Lucy is already there? No? ok...LOL This is totally normal. What I love most about this next section is how in-sync they are. Just a matching power couple in black. Also cross armed Tim mmm my fav. Sexy forearm time look at those puppies. Mm love to lick those like a lollipop. Yum. Also the intense amount of heart eyes Lucy is throwing him in this scene. Girl you have an audience put those away LMAO Clearly has not come down from her hug high. If Tim looked her way in that moment he would've been speechless with their intensity.

Wesley is telling them Angela is at a compound in Guatemala. That he’s going to get her back but he needs some help. Everyone jumps in and Grey stops them. Saying only people truly qualified for this is Harper and Tim. (Why Nolan gets to be apart of their OP based on that logic idk LOL) Nolan does bring up the good point about Max from 2x14. The counterfeiting case they had where they let his team go in exchange for their killer.

Tim explaining to Grey his unit runs covert operations all over the world. He could get them in undetected. He owes them for not putting his sins on blast. He would give them tactical support on the ground as well. Lucy is gonna hang back with Grey per his decision to help on Jackson’s murder case. While Nolan will fold in with Tim and Nyla to contact Max and get their mission going.

They land and their original plan doesn’t pan out. It was to get in covertly through the blueprints Nolan steals. Unfortunately Plan A is squashed due their covert entrance having a steel gate installed. Covering up the only weak spot for the house making the blueprints useless. Tim also brings up if they’ve added this gate who knows what else they’ve added inside? Says they have to go to Plan B which Nolan and Harper bitch to him about lol

Tim is the ONLY ONE with military experience. He knows how to quickly adapt in a hostile environment especially when a plan goes to shit. Even though its super risky it's their best option. Nolan I expect the whining from. Harper should appreciate this since she was a UC. Yeah its not ideal but bitching at him doesn't make it better. It's only ok when Lucy does it haha

I do love this scene above so much it’s underrated IMO. Lucy telling him she doesn’t like Plan B is too funny. He looks so damn exasperated by her dislike of the plan. Harper and Nolan turning around is too funny I have to say. Like we told you she wouldn’t like this plan....When really it’s just her worry coming through in spades. Her person is in potential danger and she doesn’t get to have his back. Lucy is very far away and her worry is very evident. The secondary plan puts him in more danger. Danger she can't control that from another country. So she is a little anxious. Poor thing.

Side note before we delve into the moment above. Military Tim is a flavor I like very much. Look at him. How does this man make such an ordinary outfit sexy as hell? He’s wearing the hell out of that t-shirt Ovary explosion on-top of his sexy biceps popping out of it. *fans self* Also its not shown here but his belt hanging over the edge of his pants. Wish I could've fit more gifs of Military Tim. I'm bummed I could not haha (shakes fist at tumblr's gif limit) Anyways It’s like he wants me to implode from the thirst trap that he is. Plus the 5’clock shadow lining that sexy jawline. Have mercy.

Anyways another underrated moment in this episode is Lucy telling him to be careful. It’s such a loaded moment. Look at the way she is anxiously shifting around. You can see Lucy is bouncing her knees up and down trying to get her nerves out. She not even close to processing losing Jackson right now. She can’t fathom losing her person too. Lucy needs to let him know to be careful and she’s worried. That she cares. Lucy is so very stressed for Tim. It's driving her insane she doesn’t have his back in this moment.

If Harper wasn’t there I’m sure his answer would’ve been a little different. More sincere and soft. Since Harper is Tim is doing his macho confidence thing to keep her from worrying instead. Tim is also confident in this plan even if it’s more complicated. More shock and awe. As he says. Sending Angela into pre-mature labor then intercepting her at the hospital with the antidote. Which they do pretty flawlessly. Angela dispatching of La Fiera while pregnant was pretty damn bad ass before getting away. Also I love them all pulling a gun on Max to pick up Wesley/Nolan HA Wesley and Angela's reunion in the helicopter is super sweet I love them ❤️

Fast forwarding 3 months to her having the baby, them all healing a bit more after Jackson’s death was a good call. Angela and Wes arrive home to a welcome home party. Lucy could not be cuter with her excitement over her baby basket. She made her all these organic and homeopathic cookies. Once Lucy departs Harper tells her not eat the cookies LMFAO But it was something positive for Lucy to focus on. It made her happy to assemble it for Angela. So sweet.

The episode ends with Angela talking to Jackson’s gravestone. Ugh my heart. Her updating him on everything. Saying she hopes by the time her leave is over she can face the station without him there. Killing me Angela. I love them naming their kid after him. Gut punch to the feels. Ep starts with a gut punch and ends with one. Hell of a start to an incredible season.

Side notes- non chenford

I love when Grey says he’s feeling biblical about losing Jackson. We all were Wade. So upsetting…

The intro of Elijah. He’s a solid baddie I enjoy his SL with Wesley. The things we do for those we love. Actor is solid af cause I hate him so much haha doing his job well.

Also in that post hug scene I love that Tim has a photo of Kojo on his bedside table I love this man sfm.

It is very kind of Grey to remind Nolan he’s done as a rookie. Everyone in the room is happy he’s a P2. He’s a putz but a somewhat likable one haha

I love the portion with Grey and Lucy. They got a hit on the DNA. They’re riding together to get this little shit. Lucy is still rattled and Wade tries to help her get past it. What’s great is he starts out as the one telling her she has to be professional, do her job everyone is depending on her too.

Especially Jackson’s family. Then he has a crisis of conscious right before he arrests him. His speech to that kid hurts to listen to. ‘A young man so full of life. Hurts my soul to think of him in that dark room on that cold table’ oof.

I will give it to Nolan him saving Wesley was pretty awesome. That’s his one compliment this season from me haha

Thank you as always to this incredible fandom, you amazing supporters who like, comment and reblog. Means everything. Shall see you all in 4x02 :)

[adhdnojutsu]

Identity wars & the Uchiha

I always wondered why Itachi haters hate him because he committed mass murder, but excuse Sasuke, Obito, and Madara, for doing/attempting the same. I finally managed to put my finger on why exactly this doesn't sit right with me, other than just being plain silly or using trauma or marginalisation as an excuse for just about anything. Look, I'm queer, doesn't mean I get to walk into a roomful of c*s folks and empty my clip.

Itachi weighs human life in absolute numbers. Anti-Itachi, pro-Uchiha fans weigh human life in identities.

To them, each marginalized life is worth a whole busload of non-marginalized lives. They forget that social justice is NOT revenge, ie marginalized people taking the whole cake and leaving the non-marginalized to starve, but to redistribute the cake so NO ONE goes hungry.

To them, anyone in Konoha other than the Uchiha are non-marginalized aka "the oppressor", so their lives carry not even half the weight of an Uchiha's.

Because clearly, when they defend Sasuke's planned mass murder, it's not just "Danzo and the elders", no, these people think "guilt by association" is the new social justice, so everyone "laughing" in Konoha, to use Sasuke's words from his unhinged rant, is guilty and deserving of retaliation, too. There are no "victims" or "innocents" in Konoha unless they have a ping pong bat on their shirts, it seems. Not even babies or elderly. They're all guilty of something only 3 living people are even aware of.

They don't realize they're justifying school shooters. Because yes, the boy was victimized by a handful of bullies and had every right to go after them, but what, pray tell, justifies shooting up the whole school? That's what Sasuke, Obito, and Madara are. Glorified mass shooters. They have righteous beef with an entity or handful of people, and they're happy to take everyone else down with them for sharing the enemy's zip code.

When lumping all Konoha residents/people everywhere in with "the oppressor", these people don't take into account:

-genuine ignorance of the administration's rotten tactics

-if aware, a lack of power to change anything

-repercussions of treason/desertion -rational thought, ie. not criminalizing someone for living in the only place they've ever known

-other forms of marginalisation existing within Konoha, as well as civilians and dissenters -cultural/propaganda impact, ie. drinking the kool

-aid not typically being an act of malice and thus not warranting a death sentence

-limited responsibility for elected leaders: you may not have voted for this leader, or your elected leader may not keep his promises

-various personal and societal struggles not leaving capacity to march for the marginalised; remember Konoha doesn't even pay decorated ninjas enough to have their sick children treated: Mukai Kohinata had to spy for an enemy village to pay his son's hospital bills, and Konoha sent Itachi to kill him for it

-Kage are not democratically elected, making people living under them even LESS responsible for their administration. The Kage administration is a dictatorship, making everyone living under a Kage oppressed and victims. This also adds not-so-voluntary pressure to the "voluntary" decision to serve as a ninja. Imagine saying no to a dictator with a huge standing army of brainwashed child soldiers.

-the public reaction to the genocide. If they hated Itachi that much for it, surely, they could have made good allies to the Uchiha if the latter had EVER bothered to share their concerns rather than simmer in silence!!

All they see is "Uchihas oppressed, so everyone else bad". So they don't mind that Sasuke or Madara or Obito kill a bunch of innocent and marginalized people along with "the oppressor". Collective punishment, guilt by association, all those things I thought we all agreed are ALWAYS bad, are suddenly excusable if committed in the name of justice (revenge) rather than power.

Itachi "looks bad" because he only killed oppressed people, under orders from the oppressor. Itachi haters don't even take into account that he did so in tears and hating his commander and only obeying because of the many INNOCENT lives he thought were at stake - many more than those 60 or so Uchihas. He didn't kill the clan "for the oppressor" (a government), he, from his POV, killed the clan for the people who didn't ask to live under this, or any government - after all, there is no opting out of "enabling injustice through citizenship" no matter where you go, so why fault anyone for existing where they do?

Is all of Konoha really "the oppressor" because of those 4 old people? Where could Konoha residents go in protest where they would not collaborate with some form of oppression, where is that utopia of innocence and justice? Fugaku sure wasn't gonna build it, since he would have to establish a new iron fist rule to keep people in line after *checks notes* kidnapping a leader who only ever showed them a loving face.

"Guilt by association" is not how to advocate for social justice. Not in the Narutoverse, not IRL. You just turn the aggressor-victim dynamic around, not eradicating oppression.

[neverendinggracelessness]

He was used to the roughness, the bruising force and the taste of blood on his lips. Letting himself be used was nothing but a simple manipulation tactic for his gain. A kiss from Mobius was a balm, soft and slow and tender. It was overwhelming.

AKA, Loki doesn’t know how to accept romantic sexual intimacy.

You can also read below the cut!

“Sex, Mobius,” Loki idly played with his pen, twirling it between his fingers. “Is a currency, nothing more.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way.”

The pen came to a halt, his eyes snapped up at the admission, but Mobius wasn’t looking at him. Instead, he nonchalantly skimmed over the words on the paper without a single flicker of emotion, body loose and confident. The only give away was the dissatisfaction in his voice, and perhaps a hint of sadness.

“What?”

Mobius’ eyes fluttered back up to him, his brows scrunching up slightly, and then he let out a sigh.

“I guess that’s what sex is for some people,” He started, voice simple. “But it could be something more. A trust exercise, even.”

Loki scoffed. “A trust exercise?” He chuckled, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning back in his chair. “That is ridiculous.”

The corners of Mobius's mouth quirked up, but the rest of his face stayed neutral, almost disappointed. Loki shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

They fell into silence after that. Loki was sure it was a tactic to get him to spill his feelings, but he would rather be pruned than talk about feelings. Mobius returned to his work, seemingly uncaring, but Loki knew better. He was waiting.

Loki wasn't going to play along. He didn’t owe him anything.

He would wait.

Wait.

Wait.

Loki cleared his throat.

"Well," Loki said, breaking the silence. "You could say it's the same concept. It is a currency, you could trade it."

"That's not the same."

"I disagree.” Loki smiled with wild eyes. “You can trade your currency for goods, services. You can give it to someone else, or keep it for yourself. It can be used for selfish gain, or a kind gesture. In the end, the transaction is what matters."

"It doesn't have to be that way. People don't need to be so... transactional. That's not the only way."

"That's not true, Mobius. The TVA is proof of that. You take people and give them purpose, a reason to exist. To work, to live, and in the end, you kill them. That is a transaction, Mobius."

"What are you trying to say?"

"People don't do anything for free, and even if they do, it’s no longer a transaction. It’s a lie."

Mobius was still for a second, and then he put down his pen and looked up at him. "What do you want, Loki?"

The question caught him off guard. He was prepared to argue, to defend his opinion and his truth. He didn't know how to respond to a question, let alone one that was asked so earnestly.

He thought about his answer, truly thought about it. What did he want? Why was he so insistent on his view of sex? Was there a reason, or was he simply being contrary?

The answer wasn't as hard to come by as he would have expected.

"I don't know. I just-" Loki shook his head, frustrated. "I know what I like, and that's all I need."

Mobius hummed in acknowledgment but didn't speak. "Why are you so concerned with my sex life, anyway?"

"I’m not.”

"Oh, please. You've been trying to get me to fuck you ever since you got here. " Mobius accused, and the blunt words sent a shiver down the Asgardian's spine. "If you're so sure you don't want anything from me, then why do keep acting this way?”

"Maybe I’m curious."

"Or maybe you just want to feel in control, to get the upper hand. It's not the first time, isn’t it?"

"It's not-" Loki inhaled sharply, clenching his fists. "It's not like that."

"But it was before. You tried to whore yourself out to me just to steal my Tempad." The agent said sharply, and Gods, it was as if they were right back in that time theater. "I know you. So, what changed, Loki?”

Loki did not respond. Instead, he looked down at the papers below him, thinking what changed? Was it when Mobius so bluntly and respectfully denied him back in the time theater, or the way Mobius was staring at him right now, his eyes searching, needing to know what Loki was thinking?

His thoughts were interrupted when Mobius abruptly stood from his desk, haphazardly pushing in his chair.

"Follow me," He said. And that was it.

Loki stared after him, confused. He didn't move. "What?"

"Come on, Loki." He called out, walking out the door. Loki scrambled to his feet, following him down the hall.

"Where are we going?" Loki asked, walking two steps behind the other.

"You have zero patience."

He scoffed. "How could I possibly have patience when you are leading me to Gods knows where."

"Oh, relax." He turned the corner and made his way to the elevator, and Loki followed, watching the agent's every move. "It's not the first time you've had sex."

Loki felt the tips of his ears heat up as he stopped walking for a split second before his body kickstarted again, his heart acing as his mind caught up with Mobius’ words. There- there's no way this is actually happening. Except, it is. This is real, Mobius was finally going to give this to him. And the thought was... exhilarating.

The elevator opened, and they stepped in. Mobius pressed the button for the lobby, and the doors closed. They were quiet as the elevator descended, the silence almost overwhelming. Mobius didn't look nervous or excited, he didn't look like anything. His face was unreadable, but his body was relaxed. He was a picture of calm, and Loki wanted to scream- to ravish him, anything.

"We don't have to do this," Mobius said after a moment, his eyes flicking over to the God. It struck him the wrong way, the glimmer of thoughtfulness, the hesitation. He was no stranger to the bashful Midgardian’s he had taken, ruining them for anyone else.

Sex with God was nothing short of divine, and Loki could understand that even the mere thought for some was overwhelming. But never has anyone asked if Loki was unsure, or held the same genuine care in their eyes as this simple TVA agent did. Except, Mobius was not simple. If he were simple, Loki would have already pleasured him beyond comprehension, except…

"I want you," Loki replied immediately, his voice sounding more desperate than he intended. "I do."

"Okay," Mobius said simply, and the elevator came to a stop. The doors opened, and Loki followed him out, his mind racing with what was about to happen. His heart was hammering in his chest, and his hands were shaking, but he wanted this. They walked through the lobby and out of the main building, towards the cluster of apartments that had been provided for the agents. Mobius led them down the rows of buildings until they reached one that was close to the edge. Loki had never been inside any of the apartments before, the idea that Mobius lived in a space outside the TVA was strange, to say the least. He knew the rooms were small, but he was eager to see it anyway.

Mobius took his keys out and unlocked the door, opening it and gesturing for Loki to enter first. He did so, stepping inside and looking around. The apartment was small, but cozy, with a small kitchen and living room, and a short hallway that led to what Loki assumed was the bedroom and bathroom.

"It's not much, but it's home," Mobius said, closing the door behind them and walking over to the couch. "Do you want anything to drink?"

"You did not bring me over for drinks, Mobius." Loki smirked, looking down at Mobius under his lashes. "Though,” He cocked his head to the side, unbashfully taking in the other man. “I’m rather thirsty for something else.”

Mobius rolled his eyes, a hint of a smile gracing his lips. "I'm sure you are." He said, reaching up and cupping the back of Loki's neck and finally pulling him down into a kiss.

It wasn’t electrifying or even unfamiliar, but it was still unlike anything else, the press of his lips soft and tender. Loki sighed into the kiss, wrapping his arms around the other's waist and pulling him closer. He could feel Mobius's hands running up his back, gripping his shoulders. He shivered, letting his own hands roam up and down the agent's sides. Mobius's mouth opened, and Loki deepened the kiss, licking into his mouth. They pulled apart for a second, and Loki looked down at the man. His pupils were blown wide, and his lips were shiny with spit.

“I adore you.” Mobius whispered, and Loki froze for a split moment, something jagged and ugly twisting in his chest that made him furrow his dark brows.

He didn’t want to think about it right now. Instead, he surged forward, pressing their mouths together once again. The agent was more than happy to oblige, kissing him with an urgency he hadn't expected. Mobius was gentle, but there was an intensity there that made Loki's skin burn.

Loki pulled away, giving the other a small little smirk. “Should we move to the couch?”

Mobius chuckled, then shook his head.

“No, you deserve something nicer than that. How am I supposed to properly worship my God from a raggedy old couch? My bedroom is down the hall.”

Loki blinked with parted lips, taken aback.

His God.

"Is that okay?" He asked, his eyes searching. Loki could see the concern etched into his features, and the realization hit him like a truck that Mobius was genuinely checking in.

"Yes." Loki said, his voice coming out a little breathless. "Of course.”

They make their way to the bedroom, their hands clasped together. The room is small, but neat, and there's a bed pushed against the wall.

Mobius guides him to sit on the bed, his hands resting on Loki's thighs. He leans down and kisses him, slow and languid. Loki wraps his arms around the agent's neck, pulling him closer. He can feel Mobius's warm hands on his body, slowly moving up his thighs and then back down. He shivers, pulling the agent closer. They break apart, and Mobius looks down at him, his blue eyes dark. Loki stares back, his mouth open slightly.

"Are you okay?" Mobius asked.

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?" Loki raised a brow, a challenge in his voice. The agent merely shook his head with something Loki didn’t quite understand and leaned down, trailing his lips along the God's jaw.

"You're beautiful." He murmured, his hands finding their way under the Asgardian's shirt, gently pushing it off his shoulder and discarding it to the side. It wasn't the first time someone had called him beautiful, and it probably wouldn't be the last, but he couldn't help the way his chest tightened at the admission. It felt different, more intimate, and it brought that ugly feeling back in full force, a shrill cry in his head.

This is not how this is supposed to go.

Mobius trailed kisses down Loki's chest, his tongue flicking out and tracing the scars. Loki inhaled sharply, his hand coming up and tangling in the agent's hair.

"You didn’t deserve these,” the man whispered, his lips brushing against his scarred skin. “You’re so strong.” Mobius fixed him with a look.

Loki squirmed underneath the weight of Mobius' bright eyes, suddenly finding himself pinned by them. There was something in his look that made Loki want to hide, but there was nowhere to go, no way to escape the care that showed there, so vulnerable and open. Mobius' hands were firm, but gentle on Loki's waist, holding him in place as he hovered over him.

"You still okay?" Mobius asked, his breath ghosting over Loki's lips.

Loki swallowed thickly, his mouth dry and his head spinning, and nodded.

Mobius' hands slid to Loki's neck in an instant, gently cupping his jaw as he kissed him. The touch was so light it made Loki shiver delightfully. He could feel every little brush of the calloused pads of Mobius' thumbs as they stroked along the curve of his cheeks, the way a hand slid up to thread through Loki's hair and tugged just hard enough to make his eyes flutter closed and part his lips to let the other in deeper.

He was used to the roughness, the bruising force and the taste of blood on his lips. Letting himself be used was nothing but a simple manipulation tactic for his gain. A kiss from Mobius was a balm, soft and slow and tender, his mouth gentle against Loki's as he pressed closer and focused solely on making Loki feel good. It was overwhelming, to be kissed like this, to feel every ounce of love that Mobius was pouring into it like he was someone worthy of being cherished, of being worshiped.

Mobius' teeth scraped across Loki's bottom lip and he outright moaned, trembling when the other responded in a light hum.

Loki broke the kiss with a soft sound, resting his forehead against Mobius’. The agent’s eyes were wide and dark and searching as they locked onto Loki's, looking for any sign of hesitation.

He was fine. It was just a kiss. A very good, very thorough, very nice kiss. A kiss he had never quite experienced in this way before, that shook him to his very core. Loki's chest felt like it was on fire, his head was swimming, and he couldn't quite catch his breath, but he was okay.

"Do you want to stop?" Mobius asked. And, Gods, why couldn’t he just stop caring about him?

He had that look again, his eyes full of concern. Loki didn't know how someone could be so open, could look at him like that. He could feel it, the warmth of the affection in Mobius' eyes, the trust in his touch. He didn't know what to do with it. He wanted it, desperately. But it was terrifying to be looked at like that, and he didn’t know if he deserved it. If he deserved him.

Loki didn't trust himself to speak, so he shook his head and hoped that was enough. He couldn't tell if the smile Mobius gave him was sad or not, but he wasn't given much time to think about it because Mobius was kissing him again, his tongue sliding across Loki's. He was still being so gentle, his kisses careful and almost too sweet, making Loki ache.

"Please," he begged, not knowing exactly what he was asking for, but knowing that he couldn’t decide whether or not he needed Mobius to keep touching him, keep kissing him, or release him from the torture.

"Talk to me, Loki." Mobius whispered. He was breathing heavily, his eyes searching and his pupils blown. “You don’t have to beg. Tell me what you need.”

Loki didn't know, and that bothered him, especially now. He didn't know how to want anything like this. He didn't know what it was to truly crave anything, not in the way that Mobius did. Mobius was all open words, wearing his heart on his sleeve and driven by curiosity- nothing like the self-hatred that pushed Loki to do every awful thing he did to prove that he was meant for something- that he had worth. That he was more than the monster he truly was.

But here was Mobius, looking at him like he was something precious, someone worthy of being loved. It was…overwhelming.

"I don't know," Loki admitted, his voice shaking.

He didn't know what it was to desire anything outside of violence, outside of bloodshed and pain and punishment. He’d always been hungry for power, but that’s the last thing he wants right now.

"That's alright," Mobius said, smiling and stroking Loki's cheek with his thumbs. "We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with."

"I am comfortable," Loki said.

"Are you?" Mobius asked, raising his eyebrows.

Loki frowned. He could hear the doubt in his own voice, the tremor that he knew betrayed his nervousness.

"It's okay to not be sure about this, Loki," Mobius said, brushing a strand of hair off of his forehead.

"I am a God, I am never unsure." Loki muttered- a lie that Mobius chuckled at.

"It's a little different with this kind of thing though, don't you think?"

"I suppose," Loki admitted.

"You're not used to being close to someone this way.”

"Certainly." The God replied. "I'm usually trying to kill them- or they have ulterior motives."

Mobius smiled sadly. “I know.”

Loki felt like he was being cut open, every nerve laid bare. He didn't know how Mobius could do that, just look at him and know, understand, and accept him. He supposed eons of studying- watching him, probably helped. Mobius probably knew exactly what was going to happen as soon as Loki propositioned him. That bastard.

"Tell me what you're thinking," Mobius asked, sitting up and settling himself beside the other man. Loki sighed and let his head fall back against the pillows, his eyes fluttering.

"I'm thinking," he started, and stopped, taking a deep breath and forcing the words out. “That I’m not quite ready for this.”

Loki didn’t know what he expected Mobius to do, maybe be disappointed and leave him be. But giving him a wide grin certainly was not that.

“What?” Loki asked, quirking up a brow and studying the other man.

“Nothing,” Mobius smiled, and Gods, wasn’t it lovely. “I’m just proud of you for telling me.”

The Asgardian rolled his eyes with a scoff, sitting up and settling across from the agent. “For what? Admitting that I cannot handle something as minuscule as sex? That is hardly anything worth such high praise.”

“Ehh, maybe,” the man shrugged. “But I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” Loki asked incredulously. “I-” And when Mobius fixed him with that look again, the one that shot right through him, Loki paused.

“Sometimes the strongest thing someone can do is admit when they aren’t ready for something.”

Loki was quiet then, and he appreciated when Mobius said nothing more, simply letting the God think.

And then, Loki let out a sigh.

“Is that why you didn’t want me?” He asked, his voice low and downcast. “Because I can’t give you this?”

“Loki, no.” The agent spoke earnestly. “Of course I want you, I always have, more than anything.” Mobius flushed, an endearing little splotch of pink. “But I know what you need, and it isn’t…a transaction.”

Oh. That’s what he meant.

Loki hummed.

“…I am not accustomed to this. I don’t know how to allow myself to be loved by you, and I’m positive that I do not deserve it.” He said bluntly. Mobius frowned at that, but sat silently.

“However,” Loki continued, “I’m willing to try- I want to try.” He corrects. “Just…slowly.”

At that, Loki took the other’s hands into his own and pressed a tender kiss to his knuckles, taking delight in the way the agent’s cheeks lit aflame and diverated his gaze. It was heartwarming that Mobius got so flustered over such a simple gesture, and it soothed a wild anxiety lingering in his chest.

With a smile, Mobius looked back up at him, his blue eyes bright and full of something akin to wonder. He was positively beautiful.

"Slowly." He promised, pressing a kiss to Loki's temple. "We have all the time in the world.”

“If it’s no trouble, I’d quite like that drink now.”

Mobius snorted.

“That isn’t familiar at all. Of course.”

[indigosabyss]

Tentative Champions Roster For Champions x Umbrella Academy S3

Reality changed with a fizzle, and seven pairs of feet digging into ground they were never meant to touch.

"Well, that... wasn't how I was expecting this to go," Kamala noted, hands resting on her hips as she looked at a giant billboard ad of some superhero group.

"Oh, god, are we trapped here forever?" Qureshi asked nervously.

"Data from previous incidents say we shall be back home in a week, maximum," Viv consoled.

"Standard protocol: we link up with the local team here," Kamala said, looking around, "But which of us were caught in the jump?"

~~~

Kamala Khan aka "Ms Marvel"

They watched the fans gathered at the base of the building, clamoring to grab the towel thrown from the roof.

Kamala wrinkled her nose, "Ew."

"I know," Amka rested a hand on her shoulder.

"I wanna bite something, those costumes are so disgusting. How dare they be the only superheroes and do this."

"Shhh, it'll be alright. Don't fight this guy, you know we need them on our side," Amka said carefully, tugging Viv over to grip Kamala's other arm, in case she tried to lunge at him.

~~~~~

2. Vivian Vision aka "Viv"

They were in a standoff in the mansion, the Champs and two other teams that seemed to have a lot more history with each other.

Finally, the silence was broken by a man with a beard, looking desperately at a corridor, "Mom?"

"'Mom'? She's a robot, you pervert," a woman from the Sparrow Academy said.

"Something wrong with that?" Viv asked, irked.

~~~~~

3. Amka Aliyak aka "Snowguard"

Fei called her crows back to absorb them into her back.

One of them, however, didn't meld into her.

Instead, it transformed into a girl in white and blue clothes.

"Surprise!" she grinned, and then turned into a bear.

~~~~~

4. Nadia van Dyne aka "The Wasp"

The crows drove Allison and Klaus into a closet, and were now chipping away on the outside.

"Hey, you wanna get out of here?" a cheery voice asked from behind Allison while she braced the door.

Both of the Umbrellas yelped, before processing that it was one of the teenagers that had made this whole thing so much more confusing.

This one was the white girl with a bobcut and a poofy skirt.

"We're trying to leave," she pointed out, "But there's murder birds on the other side."

"Also, how'd you get in there?" Klaus asked.

"Snuck in through the gap in the bottom. Pinpoint, get us out of here!" she clapped. A disk of light opened under their feet.

~~~~~~

5. Qureshi Gupta aka "Pinpoint"

They fell through the disk, and landed in blinding sunlight. On a roof.

Allison looked around in surprise, seeing the mansion across the street from them.

"What the hell?" she turned to the girl, "Did you do that?"

"No, I shrink and grow," Bobcut Girl said, "Pinpoint teleports."

A boy standing to the side waved shyly.

"Wow, you're so tiny. Allison, were we this tiny when Dad made us...?" Klaus asked.

~~~~~

7. Fernanda Rodriguez aka "The Locust"

"Coming through!" the girl with the bulky red getup and blue scarf yelled, bringing one massive foot down on Alphonso.

He didn't move, though out of surprise this time than any tactical reason.

The superpowered kick landed, and both him and the girl suffered the full brunt of it, landing side by side on the ground, wheezing.

"You're strong," she said.

"So're you. Super strength?" he guessed, unsure why he was asking. Never fought another super before, after all.

"Nah, don't have powers," she replied, "That's just hydraulics."

Huh.

He thinks he broke a rib.

~~~~~

6. Tommy Shepherd aka "Speed"

They were all catching their breath at the park. Everyone except Tommy, who was nursing a different wound.

"I'm totally going to lose my job," he languished on an entire bench by himself, "And for what? An adventure with the Baby Avengers?"

Viv hummed, "I thought you would be more excited for a mission with me."

He perked up immensely, "Oh, fuck yeah! It's gonna be a brother sister bonding mission! We're gonna make Billy so jealous."

"He's Emperor Consort of two different alien empires. There's nothing you can do to make him jealous," Nadia told him.

Luther looked between them all, "Why're you guys still here?"

[dontyouworrydaddy]

hi!!! I always imagined me being in 141 but with a twist can you make reader like an assassin my inspo is black widow atomic blonde Maria hill

aka a BAMF who gets the job done ruthlessly she work in a diff base but as soon as the job is done she’s a big sweetie she loves ballet,ice staking,painting etc!

thank you!!!!!! 💗

𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕦𝕟𝕗𝕚𝕩𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖

Task Force 141 + fem! reader

I ABSOLUTELY LOVE BLACK WIDOW AND OH GOD HAVING A READER IN HER STYLE???? THIS IS WHAT I HAVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT LATELY AND I AM GIGGLING ABOUT IT😭😭 Thank you anon for this ask, I literally love you so much❤️❤️ I hope you enjoy this!

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

You were a force to be reckoned with, a woman who oozed competence and strength. Your (hair color) framed a face that radiated determination, and your eyes held a glint of unwavering purpose. As you stood there in your tactical gear, the team exchanged uneasy glances. They had heard of your ruthlessness, your precision, and your unparalleled efficiency. But what intrigued them the most was the stark contrast between the persona you displayed during operations and the person you transformed into afterward.

Price's gravelly voice broke the silence. "Listen up, team. We've got intel that Makarov's men have acquired a shipment of nerve gas. Our mission is to intercept and eliminate their operation before they unleash it on innocent lives."

Ghost nodded. "We'll infiltrate their compound and neutralize any threats. Y/N, make sure you stick to the plan."

The mission was a success, thanks to the combined efforts of the team and your calculated approach. During the operation, your movements were swift, your decisions merciless, and your face was ice-cold. You were a whirlwind of calculated violence, leaving no room for hesitation or mistakes. Mistakes were your biggest enemy in the field. The team watched as you executed maneuvers reminiscent of a certain spy they were familiar with.

After the mission, back at the base, the transformation in you was nothing short of astonishing. As the team stripped off their gear, they caught glimpses of you engaging in activities that seemed almost incongruous with the person they had just witnessed. You traded your tactical attire for a soft, flowing dress, and your eyes now held a warmth that contrasted with the icy glare from before.

Soap's brow furrowed as he observed you delicately painting a canvas on an easel. "I can't believe the same person who took out those guards with such ruthless hands is also into painting." Gaz chimed in. "And ballet. Don’t forget about that one."

Price chuckled, his mirth hidden behind his mustache. "Appearances can be deceiving, lads. We all have our ways of balancing the scales of this life. And Y/N‘s is painting and ballet…"

The team continued to watch you in fascination, occasionally sharing stolen glances amongst themselves. Gaz approached you, a rare hint of curiosity in his voice. "So, uhhh, Y/N how do you manage to switch gears so quickly?"

You paused your painting, offering a genuine smile. "It's all about maintaining control over yourself. In the field, I am ruthless because I have to be. If I want to protect my country and protect the people in it, I can’t show any emotions. It would just distract me. But after the mission is done, I switch my energy into things that bring me joy. It's my way of finding balance. And extractly that is the key to success."

Soap smirked. "Well, I have to say, If I had to choose between you and ghost. I would definitely choose you as my Teammate." This statement caused Ghost to look at him with a threatening face. You chuckle at the sight.

"You know" ghost began as the others slowly left to get food for their hungry tummy "I've seen a lot of fighters in my time, but none like you. You're like a shadow, moving seamlessly between two worlds."

You took a sip of your hot chocolate, meeting his gaze. "Thank you, Ghost. It's taken a long time to strike that balance. And many nerves… of course." hinting to your trauma from all the training and steps you had to take to reach where you are right now.

Ghost grinned behind his mask. "I have to admit, watching you take down those enemies in the field is a sight to behold. It's like watching myself, but in a better version."