#he leaves for an hour and comes back with a powerpoint

[citrineleaf]

Player, nervous and jittery: Hey, umm... Red? I have a confession, I'm... trans. Carmen, incredibly well-being but with the ignorance of someone who grew up secluded on an island: ... like transformer? Player: Carmen: Are... are you a robot? Player, trying very hard not to laugh:

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fanfic idea: Ecto-Specialist

Danny Fenton gets sent by his parents as a Fenton Ecto-Specialist at the request of the Justice League. They would have gone themselves, but unfortunately, every other Fenton had come down with the flu.

Danny was happy about his ghost immune system because this meant he could present Ghosts in a much more favorable light. He left behind all his parents' weapon blueprints and research reports.

He switched them out with his PowerPoint, ghost notes, and interviews he managed to obtain from the friendlier spiris. He arrived to the Hall of Justice, was given a special access pass and was told to set up in a board room.

He nervously plugged everything in, smooth down his suit, and practiced his speech. He's given presentations before, but they have always been school assignments. It was still nerve-wracking, but at least everyone else had to give the exact same topic for the same five to six minutes requirement.

Here, he was going to speak before some of the best heroes of the world to convince them that ghosts were sentiment. To prove they should have rights.

No pressure.

"Hello, I'm Danny Fenton. I'm going to speak about Ecto-beings and their vast culture within the Infinite Realms, " He says to the empty chairs. He pauses for a moment before, as if though he was gathering the attention of a audience before pressing the clicker abd watching his slide move.

"What are Ecto-beings?" He makes a gesture, that he once saw Tim Drake do on TV. It was a smooth wrist roll that he thought look sophisticated. "They can come in all shapes and sizes. Some are naturally formed from their environment, others are born to Ecto-beings and a few or deceased spirits. But they all share a core build from ectoplasm. That's what classifieds them as-"

"Maybe start but explaining what ectoplasm is" a voice cuts him off. Danny is not proud of the high pitch scream that releases from his throat. He is even less proud that he jumps so badly, he ends up tripping over his feet and falling over.

Bell-like laughter, fills the air, and Danny swings his head to the doorway only to further choke on his spit. Standing there looking like a Greek god is Tim Drake.

The very person he was attempting to imitate.

"Are you the Fenton Works representative?" Drake asks, strutting in with a wink. "I'm here on Wayne Enterprises behalf. We may be doing a joint charity effort for Ecto-beings rights. I'm Timothy Drake. And you?"

"I ugh, I'm Danny. Ugh- Danny Fenton. My parents own Fenton Works." He scrambles to his feet, flushing dark red when Drake smiles. "I'm presenting today. I was um practicing?"

"You're doing great" Drake assures. "Just remember to not stand in front of the screen. You want people to ready your bullet points."

"Oh." Danny drags his podium over. He cringes when he realizes that causes it yo scrap against the floor, leaving two long lines.

Drake's grin widens. "It has wheels. You just press the little lever on the right"

Danny wants to die "right. Sorry"

"Nothing a wax machine can't fix." Drake tilts his head, studying his face before asking,"Want to get a quick coffee to calm your nerves? They sell a great brand in the cafeteria"

Danny rubs his hands "Coffee makes me more nervous but thank you"

Drake's smile flatters before it switches back. "Icecream then?"

"No thank you. I run cold naturally and ice cream makes it worse"

".....how about afterwards? We could go watch a moive? Dinner?"

"I would, but I'm supposed to stay in the hotel my parents rented for me. They'll know if I'm not."

The other teen nods and looks a bit disappointed. "Alright, you can't blame a guy for trying . Well, good luck with your practice. I'll be back in an hour for the presentation."

Dannybwaves goodbye, trying to slow his fluttering heart rate. He just spoke to Tim Drake! He can't wait to text Sam and Tucker.

It's only after re-running the presentation once, about thirty minutes later, that Danny jolts in place "HE WAS ASKING ME OUT?!"

"Who was?"

For the second time that day, Danny released a high pitch scream. It's much worse to find Wonder Woman fighting a amused smile standing in the doorway instead of a Teenage Hearttob.

He hasn't even started. Maybe he should have fake being sick, too.

[haetrack]

continuing the nerd!haechan thoughts, i genuinely can’t get over the idea of him eating you out with his glasses on. when he gets a bit too stressed out with his nose buried in textbooks for hours on end, he comes to find you to bury his nose in your pussy instead.

he’s always so obsessed with your cunt, lost in his own world, that he doesn’t even realize the mess he’s making. all he cares about is making you feel good. he’d beg for you to cum on his face, not caring about how it would mess up his poor glasses and get them all dirty. he’d do it again and again if it meant getting to taste you.

i can’t be normal about this… please save me… i need to take a deep breath

UMMM UMMM UM yeah… yeah… literally wrote this all in one sitting it hit me so hard… nerd!haechan we need u so bad… part 2 part 3

-

it’s finals week.

normally, he’d head to the library, study until he felt satisfied and head back home afterwards. there would be no issues, and if there was something he didn’t know, he could figure it out in time. he’s always ready for his finals, notes written up perfectly, powerpoints all read through, nothing being able to stop him.

except this time, haechan can’t stop thinking about you.

he’s trying to read an article about… something for one of his classes, but nothing is making sense to him. all the words are blurring together, none of it sticking to his mind. all his thoughts trace back to you, thinking about how you rode him the other day. the sweet smile on your face when he begged to let you use him.

he can feel his cock stir in his sweats, any thought of studying now replaced with you. he wants you to use him like a toy, putting all his stress into you. he wants to taste you on his tongue, wants to feel you tug at his hair as you call him your good boy. he quickly takes his phone out of his pocket, shifting in his seat uncomfortably.

haechan: are you at home right now?

you: yeah, why?

he doesn’t respond after that, quickly packing his things as he heads to your apartment.

when you answer the door, you’re met with haechan. he’s blushing, hands balled into fists at his sides as he dazedly stares at you. you cock your head to the side, “hey, are you alright?”

“you don’t know how bad i need you right now.” his hands cup your face, pulling you into a kiss. you laugh a bit, pulling him inside as you lock the door behind him. he desperately kisses you, the shy haechan from before no longer present. he mumbles against your lips, “couldn’t stop thinking about eating you out. almost got hard while studying all because of you.”

he whimpers when you wrap your arms around his shoulders, deepening the kiss. his hands are all over you, groping your flesh as he tries to pull you even closer. you hum, “slow down, baby. let’s head to the bedroom, yeah? let you eat me out?”

he’s tugging you to your own bedroom, slamming the door shut as he presses you against the wall. he’s all whines and whimpers when he pulls off your clothes, leaving you bare once he settles you on the bed. his pupils are dilated when he looks at you, drool practically spilling out of his mouth at the thought of you.

you’ve only let him do this once before, and there’s nothing he’d rather be doing than burying his face into your heat. he’s still fully clothed when he joins you on the bed, laying on his stomach as he parts your thighs. he sees how you’re dripping, wanting this just as much as he does. he licks his lips before placing kisses along your inner thighs.

you shiver at the feeling of his lips so close to where you need him. you warn, “don’t try teasing me, haechan.”

“wouldn’t- wouldn’t ever try doing that to you.”

he hovers over you, your scent all around him, flooding all of his senses. he licks a strip up your cunt before he sucks at your entrance, licking up all your slick. he can taste you on your tongue, nothing in the world compares to the sweet taste of your slick. he closes his eyes, sucking harshly at your clit.

you whine out his name as your hands move to thread through his hair, pulling him closer. you can feel the frames of his glasses press into your thighs, laughing internally with how he never takes them off. he says it's so he can see you better, and you can’t really argue with that. you hear the lewd sounds of him licking and slurping your cunt, not caring about how messy he's being.

he can’t say he didn’t expect you to tug at his hair, but it always feels so good when you do. you’re using him to get off, pulling him around to where you want him. he’s your personal toy, only made to pleasure you. he can’t help how his hips grind into the mattress, the thought of it all being too much for him to handle.

he manages to open his eyes when he hears more whines slip out of your mouth. he can’t really see, fog and your own slick coating his glasses as he tries to look at you. he moans out, burying his face deeper into your pussy. he can feel his tip leaking with precum, surely staining the front of his pants in an embarrassing way. he can hear your laugh now, calling him your sweet loser.

you call out to him, hands harshly gripping against the strands of his hair as his tongue reaches deep inside you, his nose pressing against your clit. you watch his hips rut into your bed, and it all sends shivers down your spine. “b-baby, you’re gonna make me cum. keep going and i’ll cum all over your face.”

“wan’ it, want it so bad. need you to cum, need to know how good i’m doing.”

you roll your hips into him, cumming all over his tongue as he helps ride you through your orgasm. his hips roll into your bed, his tip spurting cum into his sweats at the sight of you fucked out. he laps at your entrance, licking up the sweet taste of your cum. you release your grip on his hair, relaxing at his touch.

you realize his tongue doesn’t stop, mouth sloppily sucking on your clit as your thighs try to close around his head. he doesn’t try to move them, instead, looks up at you over his messy glasses, smeared with your cum. there’s no teasing in his eyes, only desperation that keeps on building. you let out a moan of his name, his hips continuing to fuck into your bed.

you try to weakly push his head away, but he swats away your hands. his hands reach to grab you by your waist, keeping you in place as he pulls you even closer. “baby, please, you’re gonna- fuck, you feel so good- gonna make me cum again!”

he whimpers against your folds, ears ringing as he tries to stop himself from cumming too fast again. “j-just wanna,” he mumbles into you, “wanna feel you cum, wanna taste you, wanna make you feel good. want you to use me as much as you want!”

how could you say no to him?

[hauntedbythefanficsofmypast]

Of Meetings and Musings

Masterlist

Not so Fake

“I expected this from Dick, not from you Alfred.” Tim said blankly from his place on the ground. Wrapped in what he could only define as a Military grade Bat-proof burrito blanket.

“Well Master Timothy I know better than anyone that you would not listen to reason. The moment your brothers’ and father's back are turned you'd be gone and already ten feet deep in your newest case.” Alfred moved forward placing a cup to the side of Tim’s head before bending the straw so that he could turn his head to take a sip. “Be happy I am letting you sit in on over video call for the Justice League meeting.” Alfred pulled out a domino mask, securely attaching it to Tim’s face.

“This is mildly embarrassing.” Alfred looked at him for a second before reaching over and turning off the camera feed on their side.

“Better?”

“Slightly.”

“Good, now I expect that water will be gone by the end of this meeting or your coffee ban will be extended. I will be in the kitchen, just call if you need me.”

“Understood.” Tim said glumly as he thought about coffee. Alfred gave him an amused smile before walking off towards the kitchen.

Tim couldn't help but pout over the fact that he was even in the situation. He just wanted to do an intensive search into the Infinite Realms, while simultaneously hacking into the government agency known as the Ghost Investigation Ward, light work really. He barely had time to react before he was caught by Alfred. Honestly they act like he had a problem.

Tim in fact does have a problem.

Dick had managed to convince them to let Tim at least listen into the meeting. Which won him some points in Tim’s book, going off a mental tally he was now tied for second place with Duke. Cass remained in the number one favorite sibling spot, while Jason had dropped to last after the spam of pictures he took of him in the burrito.

The complete asshole he was had probably already posted them all over Twitter and Instagram. Tim wasn't ready for his Wayne Enterprises PR team email, he was gonna get Jason back for this.

He sighed, taking a sip from his straw tuning back in as Batman called attention.

“Very startling information has been brought to my attention. Something that we should've known sooner but slipped under the radar.” Batman straightens, moving to the side as the projector turns on. Displaying a PowerPoint that Tim considered woefully uninformed considering Jason had made it. Jason's the only one that uses PowerPoints weird transitions, and Tim knows he could have found everything Jason compiled in under an hour.

“The Anti-Ecto Acts a law passed by Luthor during his President run. It was signed into law the day after Gotham was declared no man's land, leaving it to slip our attention.” Nightwing turned the page in the packet he had gotten made up, signaling the others to turn as well. It was the bill in full for them to read over. “This law states that any being made of ectoplasm or able to create it are classified as undead and non-sentient. They automatically lose all human rights, and are open season to be experimented on or exterminated. They also declare it a crime to be a ghost or Ecto-Entity, the Ghost Investigation Ward, operating under the government, is given full rights to arrest those they deem undead.” Batman clicked the next slide to show multiple League members’ pictures. “Multiple League members are considered to be undead.” Everyone was stunned as they looked over the pictures, Superman was the first to speak up.

“Batman, seven of those pictures.” Batman nodded his face blank but his kids could read him clearly.

“Seven of Gotham's vigilantes are considered non-sentient and inhuman. Myself included, anyone in the Justice League that has died and managed to come back. If we don't move fast, we'll all be in trouble.”

Tim sighed, shaking his head deciding to step in.

“Under statement of the year B. This is one, either a plan Luthor made to take us down, or two, the start to tearing down all protections Metas and Aliens currently have.” Constantine nodded before standing up  moving to the front.

“I thought you all knew about this, else I would've told you sooner. We're all in lot of trouble with these Acts. Luthor basically declared war against another nation.” 

“What do you mean John?” Superman questioned as he leaned forward more his Eyes kept straying back to his picture and that of his god kids. Batman nodded to Constantine letting him take over the presentation. Tim was surprised to see screenshots of Danny’s videos on the next slide.

“There is a Realm that coincides with ours and every other universe that exists. It's known as the Infinite Realms, to put in bluntly, if the Infinite Realms was to be destroyed every universe would too. The Infinite Realms is inhabited by ghosts and primordials, beings that could and would destroy worlds if they simply teamed up. The Anti-Ecto Acts is a declaration of war against them.” Constantine sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced at the pictures. “For one we need to get it repealed immediately. Second we need to start peace treaties with the Infinite Realms, up until a few years ago it would’ve been impossible. The King was a tyrant that would love a war, however three years ago he was defeated in battle and another was Crowned.”

“How do we get in contact with this new King?” Wonder Woman questioned crossing her arms determined to see the Acts abolished.

“The only lead we have is, and I shit you not, this YouTuber.” Tim blue screened for a moment as his eyes zeroed in on a screenshot of Danny’s grinning face. Constantine held his hands up at the incredulous looks he was getting. “I know, sounds down right loony but it’s true. GalacticPhantom, also known as Danny, has posted multiple videos of himself and friends interacting with Ghosts from the Infinite Realms. The most important being the young ghost girl with white hair in the last photo. If our connections are correct, that girl is Princess Danielle Phantom, clone of High King Phantom and heir apparent. In order to reach the King, we need to reach her, and to reach her, we need Danny.”

Tim blinked before dropping his head against the floor groaning slightly, thinking about how they’d have to go about this.

“Before we continue with this.” He interrupted grumpily knowing this was going to cause issues. “So as the resident expert on GalacticPhantom,”

“Yes Red, we know you have a crush on the YouTuber.” Hood called out teasingly, earning a few small smiles. Tim was silent just glaring at the camera before speaking again.

“Congratulations Robin you’ve moved up the rankings of my favorites lists.”

“Tt- I don’t care about the nonsense you’re spewing Red.”

“Awe, Robin are you smirking? That's so cute! My baby birds are bonding!” “Nightwing I swear I will stab you.”

“Back to the point!” Tim said loudly, wanting to slam his head against the floor. “Danny’s friend Wes, he is either incredibly smart or a psychic of some sort. He has a majority of our identities clocked. Stop yelling, honestly, I believe he has a curse much like Cassandra of Troy, the only people that believe him are his friends.” Batman sighed and everyone watched in shock as he pinched his nose.

“Red, we are going to have a serious talk about sharing important information like that.” Tim snorted, rolling his eyes as he took a long sip of his water.

“Honestly B, the only reason I’m telling you now is because he is going to immediately know something is wrong. Given that only his friends listen to him, well I have no fact they all will be on high alert. To put it plainly, for once we can’t sneak around in the shadows.”

“Damn, we have to do a Superman confrontation.” Nightwing said glumly, earning a teasing offended look from the man himself.

“What’s wrong with my way?”

“It’s not as fun ‘cause they see you coming. It’s never a surprise, I like surprising them.”

“Ya, you would Wing.” Superman said affectionately before Batman called attention back to their meeting. 

“We better start planning then, I want us to be in peace talks within the week. I am giving Oracle and Red Robin full permission to pull up everything from GIW and get it blasted through every media outlet, converging with Superman on certain points of this. Given the new knowledge our best bet would be to go in with civilians. I will ask the Waynes to act as liaison for us, given they are our biggest benefactors they can be direct contact between the two.” Batman turned the power point off before moving to the middle of the table again. 

“Given the threat all of us are currently facing, I am enacting Protocol Convergence effective immediately. No hero is to do sole patrols, heroes are required to keep emergency homing beacons on them at all times. If anyone is confronted by the GIW they are to retreat immediately and alert the others. The Watchtower is having its shields upgraded and will be ready for the possibility of an attack. If the GIW does approach one of us, either meet here, Superman’s Fortress of Solitude, or the Batcave. I will be temporarily opening the Zeta-Tube for the cave, do not abuse this.Now, we need to get to work everyone is dismissed.”

Danny stopped suddenly causing everyone to look at him confused as he slowly put his missing bowl down and looked around the school kitchen suspiciously. Lunch Lady also stopped in her mixing, having agreed to have a bake off with King Phantom for one of his videos.

“What's wrong Pudding pop?” She asked softly, placing a hand on his back, Danny didn’t respond for a moment before turning to them and making eye contact with Dani, who also looked off put.

“Someone not of the Realms used our official titles.” Danny muttered shifting back and forth before giving Lunch Lady a tense smile. He stood taller, no longer slouching as his transformation took place, leaving him in his royal regalia, Dani transforming soon after moving to stand beside him. “I’m sorry, can we reschedule this? I feel the need to speak with my Council.” Lunch Lady nodded, snapping her fingers causing their ingredients to disappear and be replaced with freshly baked cookies.

“Of course your Majesties.” She said curtsying before offering a plate to Dani who took it with a grin. “I will reach out to Royal Secretary Foley to reschedule. I hope that you find everything well.” Danny smiled nodding as he opened a portal for her back to hers and Box Ghost’s Haunt.

“I do as well, please tell Box Ghost I said hello.” Lunch Lady smiled, thanking Danny and promising to do so before stepping through and waving goodbye. “Do you all want to come?” Wes glared, rolling his eyes as he stood up stretching.

“Stupid question, of course we’re coming.” Danny grinned rolling his eyes as he opened a portal to the Infinite Realms Castle. Dani bounced through calling out to them as she started flying down the hallway.

“See you in the Council room! I’m going to summon the Council!” Val snorted, walking through after Sam and Tucker. Wes entered the portal two steps behind Danny watching carefully until it was closed.

“This’ll be interesting.” Sam said, stretching out her arms as the Realms fueled her liminal side and green vines wrapped around her left arm sprouting a few black and red roses. Tucker snorted as his hat was replaced by a Nemes and the traditional makeup of a Pharaoh appeared marking him as the reincarnation of Duul Aman. Val paused looking herself over before huffing and crossing her arms glaring at the ceiling.

“Really?? Still nothing? Is it because I tried to kill him at one point, come on I’ve changed and been reformed! Give me some cool ghostly changes! Even Wes gets them!” She said, glaring at Wes, who just grinned back as he adjusted the chest plate and sword that appeared on him.

“To be fair Val, I only get it because I forced my way into being his knight.” Val huffed, throwing her arms up more playful than frustrated. Danny snorted before starting to walk towards the Council room the other following after.

Dead-ends and Surprise Visits

[i-cant-sing]

Pls Yan batfam with Teenager Reader who Loved Reading and ist evry night in the libary

Damian hates it, because he's a disciplinarian who follows a strict schedule and you're his favourite sibling so he extension, you should also follow his schedule. Chews your ear off about staying up late to read books, telling you that you need to be in touch with reality rather than spending hours in fiction. And if he's particularly mad at you (like u gave Jason more attention than him), then he will give you a major spoiler and ruin the whole thing for you. And of course after he will have the nerve to be mad at you when you give him the silent treatment because you're mad af him. How dare you????

Tim gets it. He gets wanting to be a night owl and wanting to spend some time alone. Does he leave you alone though? No. He'll be there with you in the library where he's researching on his laptop for some mission, not directly bothering you but he'd get up to bring you some coffee too. Maybe a chocolate bar if he's feeling extra affectionate. Unbeknownst to you, Tim is looking through your web history (he's tapped in ur phone) but not for some creepy reason! He just wants to see what genre you're interested in so that he could order more books for you. And also read your texts.

Dick is conflicted. On one hand, he wants you to enjoy reading; it's a good healthy habit and you should read because it'll broaden your mind and widen your horizon and blah blah blah he is concerned because he wants you to have a healthy sleeping schedule and not lose your eyesight because of how long you keep your nose stuck in a book. Alright, come on now, time for daily naps and oh oh-! Have some milk before you wander off to the library that is totally not spiked with melatonin gummies. Okay, you can read the books if you cuddle with Dick and tell him about the stuff you read and general thoughts in your mind that he hasn't found the technology to hack into🥰

Jason is not at the manor often but when he is, he usually comes at night and he's always baffled at you still being up and about, reading in the library. Doesn't matter if you're reading for school, for fun or for a mission (which he absolutely condemns u from taking part in), he is throwing you over his shoulder and dragging you back to bed. Night is for sleep! And you are at an age (u could be an adult, it doesn't matter to him) where u need beauty sleep. He is standing by your bed, glaring at you until you fall asleep and once you do, his eyes soften and he pecks your hairline before leaving. Sometimes when you're telling him about the book you read, he'd pretend he's bored and not listening, but you could randomly quiz him any day and he'd remember it down to the fine details. He really does cherish these moments with you, even the ones where you're being a total mega nerd (he has actually seen your book list and has tracked down the author to sign the super limited edition of your book, on gun point ofc)

Bruce doesn't mind you staying late at the library to read, sure he'll lightly mention you to catch up on your sleep, but he wouldn't exactly force your bedtime. Honestly, he enjoys it watching you read, be it when he's working on something in the library or watching you from the hidden cameras in the manor, your concentrated face looks absolutely adorable. Also someone who enjoys listening to you ramble on about your book, and he definitely quizzes you on the topic, and adds in some tidbits from his own research. Might make you do a paper/PowerPoint if you're up for it. Definitely reads the same books you read, np matter the genre and his dislike for it, he wants to be close to you🥺🥺🥺

[suashii]

kuroo + making dinner ﾉ a late night snack wif him in a college au ? i hope ur week treats u well bbie <3

such a cute suggestion — thank u for sending it! hopefully u enjoy :3

you’re usually better about not leaving a mess by the door when you return to your apartment, but tonight is different. you can’t help but messily kick off your shoes and shed your book bag in the growing pile at the entrance. after a long, draining study session, you can’t be bothered to keep a clean house at the moment. anyway, once you catch sight of your carelessness in the morning, you’re sure you’ll be rushing to pick things up.

“hmm,” you hum, stretching your arms above your head. the action feels good after being stuck in a chair for the past few hours and it seems like now that you’re home, just within reach of your bed, the exhaustion is finally catching up to you. “to eat or to sleep…” you ponder over your choices.

“i vote for the former.” kuroo chimes in from behind you. he replicates your movements, dropping his bag and stretching a bit before he turns and makes his way to the kitchen. “food is fuel, you know,” he tells you matter-of-factly.

“yeah, well, so is sleep. and that sounds like it’ll take a lot less energy than eating.”

he snorts at your reasoning as he surveys the contents of the refrigerator. it’s more bare than he remembers it being—the two of you are past due for a trip to the grocery store. still, he doesn’t let that stop him from trying to convince you to stay up just a little longer for a meal. “fair, but we skipped dinner. you should try to stomach something small at the very least.”

your bed is calling your name, you can hear its tempting whispers from down the hall, but you sigh and nod, joining kuroo in the kitchen to find a replacement for the dinner you missed in favor of reviewing powerpoints. the task seems like a tall one when you get a look in the fridge.

“what do you suggest?” you ask from beside him, “loose lunch meat doesn’t sound too bad.”

he laughs and pinches your arm at your unserious approach, which earns him a pinch back for ever daring to pinch you. 

“what about ramen?” kuroo proposes, lifting an arm to open the cabinet that holds your shared supply of noodles. unsurprisingly, there’s quite a selection of instant ramen at your disposal. “we’re never short on that.”

you take a few seconds to consider it before agreeing—something quick and warm should be satisfying enough.

“take your pick.” kuroo gestures to the multiple differing packages and you point at one—your favorite brand—for him to pull down. he grabs that and one for himself, closing that cabinet and opening the one that houses your pots. the kitchenware clangs loudly as they knock against each other but kuroo doesn’t seem to mind as he juggles the two, carrying them to the sink to fill them with water.

you busy yourself with opening the colorful packages and fishing out the seasoning packs while kuroo brings the pots of water to a boil. other than the gas from the stove and the occasional rustling  of  plastic, a still quiet falls over the kitchen. it’s far from tense or awkward and there’s a beauty that comes with it—being able to enjoy the company of someone without having to share words. and it isn’t lost on you how kuroo tries to take on the bulk of the work, emptying flavor packs and stirring the contents before you get the chance to grab the chopsticks.

he even pours the noodles into your preferred bowl and takes it over to your tiny dining table for you.

“i would have eaten this straight from the pot, you know,” you tell him, sliding into the chair and picking up your utensils to dig in. 

he’s known you long enough to be able to read between the lines of your speech—what you really mean to say is that he made extra dishes that you have no intention of washing. it makes him smile on the other side of the table. “i can handle the dishes.”

“don’t worry, i’ll help you,” you say in between bites. you hold his gaze, blowing on the noodles hanging from your chopsticks. “as long as we do it in the morning.”

he swallows a bite of his own. “deal.”

[prettyinpurplelights]

hii ur writing is SOO SOO good im practically going insane over ur mbappe writings. could u pls write smth about mbappe being sick and reader having to take care of him but he's just enjoying being a brat and clinging to reader ? like imagine taking care of this manchild. imagine the HAVOC he would wreck if he didn't get a kiss from his gf

HOUR OF NEED

Heyy, thank you for your lovely words, means so much 🫶🏿 hope this is okay!

“You’re leaving me here all by myself? This is your fault.” Your boyfriend sniffles, pouting as you put on your jacket, ready to leave the house.

“I warned you about kissing me last week when I was sick.”

“But your mouth was so nice and warm.”

“And now here we are.”

“So you’re going to abandon me in my hour of need?”

“Kylian, it’s just a cold. You’ll survive.” You roll your eyes.

“I hope you know those may be your last words to me. Ever! Who knows if I’ll still be alive and breathing when you get back.” He shivers dramatically and you grab your bag, placing your phone in your coat pocket.

“I spent all day yesterday playing nurse Ky, I have to go to the office.”

“And you think if nurses just left their patients before they got better, anyone would recover?”

“You are a ridiculous man Kylian Mbappe. You have a runny nose and a high temperature, just keep hydrated and take your pills. I’ll see you at 6.” You reach over to kiss his forehead and he rolls over and pulls the covers high over his head.

“You don’t deserve to kiss me.” His voice his muffled under the blankets and you laugh.

“Whatever you big baby.” You call as you shut the bedroom door behind you.

————

“So if we push the campaign from this angle, I think the overall engagement would-“

PING!

Your phone buzzes for the hundredth time in the last 10 minutes since you started giving your pitch to the newest clients at your firm. You reach for your phone to turn it off, apologising profusely, when it starts ringing and you see your boyfriend’s face lighting up the screen.

“I’m so sorry, I just have to take this very quickly, I really apologise.” You hold your hands in a prayer sign before scrambling out of the office with the phone to your ear.

“Kylian, what the hell do you want.”

“Y/N…” his voices sounds strained and breathless, and you immediately begin to worry.

“Kyky? Baby what’s wrong?”

“I just…can you…” He coughs violently and you wince. He really doesn’t sound good, and you feel start to feel a little guilty for leaving him alone. “Can you…come home please? E…Emergency.” He croaks out that last part, as though he doesn’t have the energy to do anything else.

“Oh baby. I’ll be there as soon as I can okay? I’m sorry for not taking you seriously. I’m leaving the office as soon as I can.”

“Thank you,” he breathes before hanging up abruptly and you think the absolute worst. Maybe it wasn’t just a cold, maybe it was something worse, and now he’s alone and confused and deteriorating. You head back into the conference room, chewing on the inside of your cheek anxiously.

“Everything okay Y/N?” Your boss asks.

“Yes, ummm, it’s just my boyfriend is really ill right now, and he’s just called me and he doesn’t sound too good so I’m a bit worried that’s all. But we can get this pitch finished up and I’ll go and quickly see him on my lunch break-“

“Kylian is ill?” He says, shocked as if you’d just told him his own mother on was on her death bed. “Oh no, you must go to him right away. We have the PowerPoint and your notes, Lisa can finish your pitch.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes of course, I hope he makes a speedy recovery.”

“Thank you so much, and I really am sorry.” You disconnect your laptop from the hdmi cable connected to the project and slide it into your handbag.

“Don’t worry about it Y/N, please let us know how he’s doing tomorrow, you don’t have to come in if he’s still not feeling well.” He smiles. You thank him one last time before rushing out of the office and down to the elevator to the underground car park. You barely lock your seatbelt in place before hightailing it out of the building.

“Kylian!” You yell as soon as you make it back into the apartment. You drop your bag at the door and hurry up the steps, taking them two at time. It’s not long before you’re bursting into the bedroom. “Ky, baby what’s wrong? Have your symptoms gotten worse?” You sit on the bed, taking his sweaty face into your hands. “I’m sorry for leaving you baby.”

“You’re back.” He croaks.

“Of course,” you sigh leaning in to kiss him and he lets you this time. “What was so urgent?”

“I…the bistro is out of chicken soup and I really want some chicken soup, I was wondering if you could make some for me please?” You drop his head, and he falls back onto the pillow violently.

“Ouch!” He moans, rubbing his head.

“Kylian…” you close your eyes, your right hand pressing on the bridge of your nose. “Kylian, do not tell me you pulled me out of work because you want FUCKING SOUP!”

“I missed you too?” He pouts.

“Kylian! I was in an important meeting with my boss!”

“The one that’s the PSG fan? I’ll have someone send him some tickets to our next game, he’ll be fine.” You roll your eyes.

“Of course that’s why he let me leave the office without hesistation….but that’s not the point Ky!”

“Look babe, I’m sorry for making you leave work.” He doesn’t look sorry in the slightest and it pisses you off even more. “But I mean…you’re here now? So…”

“So???”

He opens his arms, his eyes wide as he smiles. “Come spend the day in bed with me.” You throw a pillow at him, landing in the space his open arms created, before storming out of the room.

“Where are you going?” He calls out.

“To make YOUR FUCKING SOUP!“ you shout back. “Tu es un putain d’idiot!”

———

You feel someone’s arms wrap around you as you’re stirring the soup and you shrug your shoulders.

“Get off me Kylian.” You mumble.

“Are you mad at me?” He asks, holding you tighter as he presses a kiss into your neck.

“Kylian Mbappe Lottin, I’m within an arms reach of very sharp objects. Get the fuck off me.”

“No.” He insists, burying his head further into your neck. “I want to hug you. I read somewhere hugs and kisses when you’re sick are very healing.” He moves from behind you to stand by your side, his arms around your shoulders instead, leaning forward with his eyes closed and lips pursed. You shove the teaspoon you were using to taste the soup into his mouth instead and push him off you as you untie your apron and place it on the work surface.

“You can keep your kisses. I’m not trying to get sick again.”

“You kissed me earlier when you came back?”

“Yeah when I thought you were on your death bed you manipulative man child.”

“Oh Y/N, come on!” He whines, stomping his feet. “I’m not a baby.” You look at his stomping foot and raise an eyebrow. He stops and his lips turn up in a little smile. “Okay fine, maybe I am a baby. But I’m your baby. And your baby is sick and needs you. He needs your kisses. Desperately or he might drop to the floor right now.”

“Drop. I don’t care, I’m not kissing you.”

“But I said I’m sorry!” He groans.

“And you’re forgiven. But I’m not kissing you. I don’t want to get sick again.”

“Actually,” he says, coming up to you as you reach into a cabinet above the sink to grab two bowls. “Since I caught this cold from you, it’s the same strain, and you can’t catch a cold twice with the same strain of virus. So you can kiss me as much as you want.”

“And since when did you become Dr. Mbappe.”

“I did some reading in the 3 hours you abandoned me.” You slide past him and start serving up the soup in the bowls.

“Good for you.”

He takes the bowls from you and sets them on the island before backing you up against the counter. The blanket around his shoulders falls to the floor as he rests his arms either side of you on the granite worktop, trapping your body between his.

“Just one kiss.” He whispers against your lips, his face barely an inch from yours. “Please. Just one.”

“Fine.” You press your lips against his lightly, ready to pull away but his hands cage your face, and he presses his lips harder against yours, deepening the kiss. You both pull away eventually breathless, your hand around his neck.

“Better?” You ask in a low voice.

“I’m cured.” He murmurs, before he suddenly recoils and sneezes all over your face.

“DUDE!” You shout, pushing him away as you reach for a tissue.

“Well, almost cured.” He laughs, stopping when he sees your stone cold expression, your eyes shooting daggers at him. You shove his bowl of soup into his chest and go to sit on the sofa with yours. You soon feel Kylian snuggle up next to you, lying down dramatically with his hand over his forehead.

“I suddenly feel weak and dizzy, I don’t think I can hold myself up Y/N.”

“What? You want me to feed you the soup now?”

“If you insist.” He smirks.

“You are unbelievable,” You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling too as you pick up the bowl and hold a spoonful to his lips.

“I also think a kiss in between each spoonful will really help speed up my recovery process.” He nods as he slurps the soup from the spoon.

“You know what, you should legally change your name to Mbaby.”

“Haha funny.” He retorts. He points to the soup, then his lips before opening his mouth wide. You intentionally put the bowl down and pull out your phone, flipping the camera to selfie mode and holding it up so both you and Kylian are in the frame simultaneously.

“Look at this big baby here,” You start, as you press the live option on your instagram. “Big boy Kylian Mbappe lying here while I feed him soup because he’s got a little cold he can’t handle.” Kylian reaches up to grab your phone but you leap from the sofa to the other side of the coffee table.

“Y/N, turn it off.”

“Oh look,” you say into the camera. “Suddenly he has the energy to get up. You should’ve seen him merely a few seconds ago guys, acting as though he had the plague.”

“Y/N, I’m warning you.”

You laugh as you read some of the comments from the fans on your live, getting louder as you see one from his teammate.

“Ky, Achraf said stop being such a pussy!”

“That’s it!” Kylian says before leaping over the table, but you’re a tad quicker than he is, dodging his lunge and making a break for it into the kitchen. “Cut the live Y/N, or I swear-“

“Or what?” You taunt, flipping the camera so it’s facing him as he stares you down from the other end of the island in the middle of the kitchen. You quickly slip through the door and up the steps before he can reach you, but Kylian proves himself to be one of the fastest men in the world once again because he’s grabbing onto your shirt just as you reach the top of the steps pulling you to the floor, his full weight on top of you as you raise your arm as high as you can out of his reach.

“Okay guys, I have to go, it’s time to feed baby Kyky his cough syrup.” You say just as Kylian grabs the phone out of your hand and turns it off.

“Looks like you’re suddenly feeling better hmm?” You tease, laughing.

“You…” He starts but his sentence trails and he pulls the blanket over his mouth before sneezing into it loudly. He sniffs, rolling over so he’s lying next to you, wheezing and breathless. “You’re so lucky I’m ill. Once this cold is gone, you’re dead.”

———

Tried to make it a bit fluffy, I feel like it probably wasn’t that fluffy aksjsksk enjoy ! <3

[gentrychild]

If the ask game is still open how about an Anyone au where when AFO asked about Izuku's family Izuku went on an hour long rant complete with a PowerPoint that illustrated all his special feelings about his dad

1 - In this AU, AFO actually had the courage to ask Izuku about his family and how he felt about his parents. Even if he lived for 200 additional years, he would still regret that decision. He certainly didn't expect for Izuku to spring The Power Point Of All Power Points detailing his hatred for his deadbeat dad, Midoriya Hisashi.

2 - Three hours into the Powerpoint, Izuku notices that AFO is crying. He asks him why and AFO says that it's because growing his eyes back left them sensitive and in need to be hydrated and how he will probably need to retire for the night soon to let let them rest. Izuku opens a drawer, threw eye drops at him, and continues his presentation. AFO should have known better than to open that Pandora Box and isn't allowed to leave until Izuku has ranted away all of his Daddy Issues.

3 - AFO, not wanting to meet his parents' fate, try to introduce Izuku to the idea that his father might have a good reason for leaving, that he might be dead or incapacitated. Izuku. Does. Not. Care. Izuku makes it clear that if Hisashi ever shows himself in front of him, he will throw him from a building as many times as it takes to kill him. AFO believes him.

4 - Time for Plan B: time to convince Izuku that his deadbeat dad is someone AFO wants dead. Since he is an ambitious man, he naturally picks Yagi, thinking that now that Izuku has stolen his quirk, it's time to take his life. He creates "proof" that Toshinori can change appearance and that his secret identity used to be Midoriya Hisashi. It's so convincing that Izuku breaks into the Might Tower with an album picture, several DNA tests and generally emitting a "????" sound.

5 - Now, All Might is an intelligent man who knows when someone is trying to pull an emotionally charged narrative climax where one murders his father. But since he is also dumb, he doesn't say "Mmm, your dad is AFO and is manipulating you. Also, could you give me back my quirk please." Instead, he says "I am so sorry, I had to leave to protect you and your mom, what do you mean you didn't get the child support and the unlimited AM merch I have been sending you every month?"

+ 1 - Now, Izuku isn't dumb either, knows that there is something fishy and if All Might is somehow truly his dad, he can't accept the "I abandoned you to protect you" excuse. But... Unlimited All Might merch. So he is willing to hear him out. As long as he keeps the merch coming.

+ 2 - All Might accidentally sics Izuku on the one who "stole the alimony and the All Might merch"... The HPSC President.

[mischiefandlies]

After hours

Loki x Reader

Masterlist

Notes: I had staff training yesterday and was absolutely shattered. Thought this would make a cute fic. Btw, my work is really physical, so it's sort of geared to that.

Warnings: None. Enjoy!

You had come home absolutely exhausted. Staff training was horrible. You worked at a small company that had recently bought a new facility, so everyone had to trundle an extra half hour down the road, learn how to operate new equipment (which was exactly the same as the old equipment), then spend hours going through powerpoints about things that could’ve been said in one email. All in all, it was an incredible waste of time. And you liked your job- but not like this.

You got out the car and made straight for the shower, only pausing to dump your bag on the sideboard. The hot water washes over you, and you feel all the sweat and grime of the day wash away. You’re almost done washing your hair when you feel a pair of hands replace your own, massaging your scalp. Soap runs down your back as you lean into his steady touch, letting out a moan of contentment.

“Anymore noises like that and you’ll find yourself pinned against the tiles darling.”

“Can’t help it,” you say “Your fingers are literally magical.”

He chuckles behind you. You turn to face him to see he is naked as the day he was born. His black hair frames his face perfectly, although you focus your attention a little further south, trailing your eyes down his toned body. He cups your face with his hands and tilts your head up, forcing your wandering eyes to land on his. He then leans over, pressing little kisses on your face, holding you close while he finishes rinsing your hair. He keeps an arm around you even when he has washed you thoroughly, and leads you out the shower where he bundles you up in a towel, scoops you up, and walks away towards your bedroom. He even goes so far as to dry you, before he sets you under the covers and leaves you, kissing you sweetly on the lips and leaving to make dinner.

You can’t be bothered to get dressed, so just squirrel under the blankets and curl up in a ball, scrolling mindlessly on your phone, looking at nothing. He comes and joins you, spooning you so that he can nuzzle into your neck and kiss your shoulder. The two of you lay therelike that until you here the timer go off in antother room. Loki scoots out of bed to go get it while you slowly dress into a pair of warm cozy PJs.

Once the two of you have finished dinner, Loki and you go back to bed. What you don't know is your boyfriend has one last trickk up his sleeve. He moves you ever so slightly so that you are lying on your back, so that he can easily begin to massage your tense muscles. before you know it, he's working his way down his back, slowly and methodically soothing you. It's so relaxing that by the time he's finished, your virtually asleep. He crawls back up the bed and pulls you into his chest, so that when you finally do drift off, he can feel your steady heartbeat beside him.

[desceros]

I no longer feel bad about asking about blurple villian might I ask some very pointed questions about Donnie’s side of the relationship for playlist purposes?

So what I’m hearing is it takes DonBon a little longer to um… get his ball rolling. So to speak. How many fights do he and Lamb Chan get into over Leo and does Leo know about it/rub it in Donnie’s face?

Gbs input would be appreciated as well (now when I reblog blurple villian stuff I wait a bit to make sure you two aren’t still going back and forth on the post lol)

never ever ever feel bad for blurple villain au posting

i think donnie and lamb-chan actually... don't really fight that much usually? not in the traditional sense. for the most part you're just like. oh donnie says that this is the best way to do things, so i'm going to trust that and do it. and if you say you want something, donnie usually is like ok well here you go. it's just very. easy. being with donnie. there's no real friction or fighting that ends up happening.

...except when it comes to leo.

ohhh man. you are stubborn as fuck about leo, and it makes donnie's teeth fucking paste with how hard he grinds them on this. he tries everything. talking to you. grabbing your arms and shaking you. a very memorable powerpoint presentation with diagrams and pictures. he puts a tracker on your coat that starts making an obnoxious beep when you get too close to leo's apartment, so you just take it off and leave it on a dumpster until you come back by.

(he promptly takes it off, because the thought of you out there, cold, is maybe worse than the thought of you being with that fucker. also bc leo snapped at him about it, genuinely angry, saying he'd had to warm you up bc your teeth were chattering, and knowing that leo put his fucking hands on you—that leo was right about how he'd hurt you—yeah. no more beeping trackers.)

leo, of course, absolutely loves this. i can just see him hiding in the fire escapes, watching over you on your way to his apartment with donnie trailing behind. you're ignoring him, nose in the air, as he tells you all the reasons that this is stupid, that leo is toxic, that you're better off staying in the lair. when he makes the mistake of insinuating that leo would hurt you, that's when you stop and wheel around, getting a little nasty right back in his face. leo has never once hurt you—not in a way you didn't ask for—and insinuating otherwise won't stand.

taking this moment to be the perfect little shit, leo jumps down and comes up behind you, pulling you close and sending his brother a smug smile. making matters worse, you grab leo's hand and pull him along behind you, leaving donnie behind with the sight of your stiff spine and leo's infuriating smirk. he goads the two of you on, wanting you to fight, hoping to push you away from donnie and closer to him.

...but, equally, i think your fights—as hot as they burn when they happen—are very, very quick to boil away. they never last more than a few hours before you're coming back together, apologizing, the two of you snuggling close and letting the gravity between you come to head. he hates making you angry, he really hates making you cry; you hate making him angry, you really hate making him sad.

once you start hooking up w donnie, this gets even more pronounced. i imagine you're very, very careful not to get into fights with donnie, giving him one or two more warnings that you're getting pissed when he starts sniping about leo. hence why the whole 'being little shits behind your back' thing starts happening. (because you are also very quick to defend donnie to leo, and your fuse on people saying shit about him is very, very, very short.)

@gbao3 tag youre it

[muddyorbsblr]

one look and they'll know

See my full list of works here!

Summary: You go to work on the set of Thor Ragnarok one day and you're greeted with the sight of one Tom Hiddleston on his knees and your coworkers whispering about how he perfected his posture.

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warning/s: implied smut (there's like 2 paragraphs that talks about it), mentions of BDSM terms, talks about throat grabbing, cussing, and a potentially Domme!Reader that doesn't know her power [if i missed anything let me know!]

Working as a set designer on a movie set meant that every day could either be agonizingly monotonous, or no two days would ever be the same. There was this one TV episode you worked on where majority of the project took place in an interrogation room, so there was next to nothing for you to do besides making sure that continuity errors were minimized or even completely avoided.

This project…was not agonizingly monotonous. By some stroke of luck, you'd landed a gig as a set designer for Thor: Ragnarok, and now you were working on sets that would be walked on by the likes of Chris Hemsworth, Anthony Hopkins, and--fucking Christ on a crutch--Tom Hiddleston.

When you decided to leave your day job of weekly software patches and bug fixes and the ever droning minutiae of daily updates that really gave you nothing except migraines and a bad habit of stress-eating for a chance at a career in the entertainment industry, did you ever think it would lead you here? Absolutely not. Truthfully, you were content with the interrogation rooms, but this? This was a pipe dream.

"Ah. Morning, Y/N," you heard the moment you stepped on set from Taika, currently dressed in a skin-tight spandex gray CGI suit with a giant Korg head harnessed atop his shoulders. "We sourced enough sugar glass bottles for Tessa to throw in Tom's general direction today, yeah?" 

"Well I got five dozen so…we should be good," you shot back with a chuckle. You knew full well what the cast and crew got up to when sugar glass was involved. Mostly smashing it on each other's heads and making some great takes for the blooper reel.

"Awesome. I'll see you there." With a wave you started walking toward your fellow set designers, currently glancing and giggling at one of the Sakaar sets.

"Alright, what's got your panties wet this time?" you called out to your coworkers. 

Bryan, a lanky guy slightly taller than you motioned toward the set. "Look at Hiddlebum." 

"I'd really rather not, you know that I trip on air the second I even glance in his direction," you shot back. "I can't keep my dignity around that man, let alone my sanity. Don't tell me to look at him." 

"He's not gonna look back," Denise, a curvy redhead and one of your closer friends on set, commented in a sing song tone. "Trust me, boss, you're gonna wanna look." 

With a huff, you glanced toward the set and you could wear that your heart turned to solid lead and then jumped out of your chest and straight to the ground. Lord have mercy, you were not ready for the image of Tom in his dark blue-green leather getup, wrapped in gold chains, on his fucking knees, back perfectly straight, and head tilted down to the floor.

The sound that came out of your mouth did not sound ladylike. Hell, it didn't even sound human. 

"Do you think he's--?" Denise started.

"Ohh he definitely is, I mean look at that posture! You don't get there from looking up one picture, you get there from practice and meticulous correction. This man's a sub."

"Sorry, a what?" You were now officially, thoroughly, confused.

"Submissive," Bryan explained to you. "It's a whole thing that needs a 6-hour crash course and a 40+ slide Powerpoint presentation, but for your immediate knowledge, madam, it means he likes being ordered around in the bedroom." 

"So what? Like strip? Slowly? Walk over to me, come to momma type shit?” 

"I'm shocked how quickly you got the vibe, boss," Denise quipped. "Bry, what if she's a domme?"

"A what??" you nearly shrieked. "You think I'm the one who says 'strip slowly and sit down like a good boy and don't move a muscle while I ride you'?" You took a breath to calm yourself. "You're fucking insane, the lot of you."

"Again, you got the vibes, boss. The more you joke about it the more I'm convinced that it's in your DNA."

You let out a frustrated exhale. "Alright you two knuckleheads, look at me." Your voice dropped half an octave and became fuller as you said the last bit, using a tone you hadn't taken out ever since you resigned from the testosterone-laden world of software development. 

"Yes, goddess?" Your blood froze over as you heard the soft spoken words. There was no way it was…No. 

Right?

You looked at Bryan and Denise, both with matching expressions of wide-eyed scandalous amusement on their faces, as they shifted their gaze back and forth between you and Tom. Slowly you moved your gaze back to the set, your breath catching in your throat in an ugly inhuman sound as you saw the steel-blue eyes that haunted your filthiest, wettest, most vivid fantasies…staring straight at you. 

"I-I-I uhm…" you stammered, your voice returning to your normal tone, losing your footing despite being completely stationary. "I was talking to these knuckleheads, s-sorry Tom." You took a steadying breath. "As you were." You mentally smacked yourself as your 'programmer BossLady' voice came out again, your eyes widening in complete shock as he wordlessly followed your instructions and resumed to look down at the floor. 

"Confirmed," Bryan stage whispered to you and Denise. "He's a sub, and we've been silently submitting to Y/N all this time. I mean…Madam." You groaned at his words. 

"You two," you hissed at them. "Let me fucking tell you, I am the farthest thing from a madam. Or a goddess or whatever it was that he called me." You inwardly shuddered at the memory, although if you were being honest it wasn't from shock or disgust. It was from arousal. "My life is unbelievably, annoyingly, dreadfully…vanilla."

Denise giggled. "But you know the jargon? Uh huh. Sure, boss."

You rolled your eyes at her. "Bitch please, I read Fifty Shades. The smut. The toe-curling filth found in the wonder that is Kindle Unlimited. The fanfiction written about that fine-ass man on his knees over there," you whispered the last part in a hiss. "But I digress. The point is that my brain may be filthy, and it may be filled with very vivid fantasies of that very same man on his knees right now, but real life Y/N? Yeah. No."

"Maybe no man ever rose to the challenge," Bryan teased. "You think Hiddlebum would?" 

"That's not a direction my brain ever wants to go unless I'm already in bed, in my birthday suit, legs spread, with a toy in my hand," you shot back without missing a beat. "As for no man ever rising to the challenge?" You leaned in close to their ears. "I can't even get a guy to go down on me because every guy I ever dated or even just fucked said they never do it with anyone because it tastes weird. And don't get me started on the ones that practically bolt out of my hotel room naked when I ask them to put a hand on my throat."

"Maybe you're just talking to the wrong boys, Y/N." You turned around to see that Chris had joined your conversation with a smug look on his face. "You have to start talking to men. Perhaps then your luck will turn."

"Didn't your mother ever tell you it's rude to eavesdrop on conversations that don't have shit to do with you, Hemsy?" you shot back with an amused smile. You couldn't ever really be mad at the guy who resembled a walking talking 6'4 teddy bear. It was physically impossible. "Good morning."

"Good morning, indeed," he chuckled, turning his attention to the Sakaaran set. "Beautiful posture there, Tom! Absolutely exquisite," he hollered, causing the British man to let out several chuckles.

"Ehehehehe, sod off, Chris." He looked up from his position, most likely intending to glare at Chris, but instead his eyes met yours, and you felt this inexplicable pull towards him. No. Wait. Back up a bit. You felt as if there was this inexplicable force pulling him towards you. You tilted your head the slightest bit, as if questioning him and his tethering gaze, your eyes once again widening in total shock as he responded with turning his head towards the floor in a bow once again.

"Erm…what the fuck was that?" Chris asked, poking your shoulder repeatedly. "It's like you broke him, tiny terror." 

"Me?? Broke him??" you hissed as you turned around to glare at the towering Australian. "I'm the one who's fifty shades of fucking confused here!" 

"You may be, but I've never seen him fold for a woman like that in the entire time I've known him. With a tilt of your head, no less. No wonder your people call you 'madam'. Maybe I should call you that--"

"Don't even fucking think about it, Hemsworth." Your tone from earlier had returned, the one you tried to keep locked away since you gave your resignation letter to your final day job two years ago. A tone you'd once been confused as to why it could cause all those bravado-filled middle-aged men to fold and actually listen to you, well now you had an inkling. 

The tone was domineering. It allowed no room for counter-arguments; perhaps you were right about the words that you were uttering, but also perhaps you weren't, but your tone didn't demand their subservience, it just took. And while it worked in conference rooms and face offs with no less than senior management of the client companies you'd dealt with, never once did you think to use it in the bedroom.

You never realized it was an option.

"Where's Taika?" you asked after taking a few deep breaths to recenter your brain. This was gonna be one of those days, the type that you'd never forget even when you were an octogenarian and you'd  have trouble remembering if you've even eaten for the day. "I have to tell him we can't have the scene set up like this." 

"Why not, lil mayhem?" You turned and once again saw the ridiculous gray CGI spandex that Taika was decked out in, but thankfully now without the gigantic Korg head so at least you were no longer confused where you should be staring. 

"Because people are gonna take one look at him and they're gonna know," you explained, pointing towards the set at the kneeling Loki. 

The director looked at you, clearly confused. "Know what?" 

"Ohh this will be delicious," Denise all but moaned. "Watch this," she told Taika as she turned back to you. "Tell him to straighten his back." 

"This feels like I'm exploiting him somehow, you do it." 

"He's not gonna listen to me, I don't have the voice," she teased back, and then sighed. "The sooner you convince Taika, the sooner we can fix the scene." 

"Ugh, fine. Taika? Look at Tom." You took another breath, finding that voice once again in no time. "Straighten your back." Once again, your breath caught in your throat with a hideous sound as you watched him wordlessly follow your instructions. "That's what I mean," you addressed Taika once more. "People take one look at that scene, see his posture and--"

"Apologies, goddess." 

It felt like your spine had been replaced with pure ice as you watched Taika's jaw go slack, heard Chris choking on air in the background, and your two fellow set designers and friends start giggling once more as soon as the soft-spoken words were uttered from the mouth of one Thomas William Hiddleston.

"What did you call me??" 

"Ohh I think we know what he called you. Goddess," Taika taunted. "Right then, we need to get this man off his knees," he said, turning to the crew and giving them instructions to reset the scene.

"So what? We're gonna have him stand now?" one of the assistant producers sneered. "Way to take us out of the moment, Y/L/N. Fucking buzzkill," she muttered.

"I'm not telling you to make him stand, I'm just telling you to get him off his knees," you countered. "It's not my fault that your comprehension's lacking." 

The assistant started to make a motion towards you as if you bitch slap you, but the director stood in her way. "Don't even think about it. That's a one way ticket to Tom's shit list if you lay a hand on her," he threatened, and you watched as the AP looked over to the corner of the set with wide eyes. When you followed her gaze, your eyes widened as well at the sight of Tom with a borderline murderous look in his eyes. 

"Don't," he said simply. The AP backed off, muttering something about favoritism that you couldn't quite catch. 

"Alright then, lil mayhem, this is your idea. Run the show." You stared at Taika with incredulity. "You're the one who wants him off his knees? You get him off his knees. Call the shots."

You scrambled for ideas. "A chair?"

"Sorry, madam, we got nothing in props that could even look like it belongs in Sakaar. And I already know what you're gonna say, the Sakaaran standards are literally on the floor but still. A proper looking dining table chair will not fit the vibe." 

You glared at Bryan. "Then get me a cement block, a wooden platform. A fucking concrete slab. Anything, just get this man off his knees." You turned back to face Taika. "Legally, who can I yell at here without an HR violation?"

"Just those two." He pointed at your set designers. "You are their superior after all." 

You turned back to the dawdling set designers, staring at the scene laid out before them with amused looks on their faces. "Find me something." They kept staring. "NOW!!" They ran off to props like headless chickens, making both Chris and Taika break out in chuckles.

"Remind me to never get on your bad side, tiny terror," the giant Australian told you before proceeding to pat you on the head like a ferocious and yet annoyingly fluffy guard dog. "Hey Tom you can get off your knees now, you kinky little shit!" he hollered, chuckling. After a few moments he started again. "Ah, shit, Y/N be a dear? Seems he won't listen to anyone but you when he's like this." 

You groaned. "For fuck's sake," you murmured before taking another deep breath, slipping into your natural voice once more. "Stand up." The next moments felt like a sucker punch to your entire system as he once again followed your instructions, afterward stealing a glance at your direction with the softest look in his eyes and a sweet smile that left you completely breathless.

What was he up to? Why was he acting like this?

Fifteen minutes later, Bryan and Denise came rushing back in with a platform box painted a distressed teal setting it down on the ground near the now standing Tom.

The next 13 hours of the day were comparatively less eventful than the start of your day. Rearranging sets, reviewing shots for possible continuity errors that you were sure Twitter would crucify you all for if they caught wind of it, and the occasional bitchy stare down with that PA from earlier this morning who tried to smack you for daring to mock her comprehension skills.

"Let's call it for the day, everybody!" Taika hollered from his director chair, now thankfully wearing more normal clothes and not that spandex CGI suit. "I'll see you in twelve hours. Get some sleep, don't go out drinking because if you come to set tomorrow hung over I will have your head." Everyone murmured their assent as they moved about, wrapping up their tasks for the day, and he turned to you. "Lil mayhem, try to get some tonight. I'm saying this as a friend. You're wound up." 

"Honestly, T, it's just the whole 'she's a domme' thing from earlier. Really threw me in for a loop. I should be fine after some sleep," you reassured him, making sure to pick up a copy of tomorrow's call sheet to do some prep work before you eventually succumb to the sweet lonely embrace of solitary slumber in your hotel room. "Go, T. I can lock up tonight. FaceTime your kids, tell them you love them, read them a bedtime story. I'm sure they miss their dad." 

He took a few moments before giving you an exaggerated sigh and tossing you the keys. "You drive a hard bargain, Y/L/N." He walked over to you, ruffling your hair. "You're the best." 

"I know I know. Go. I'll do a quick sweep, make sure nobody gets locked in here for the night and we get here with someone banging on the door screaming 'let me out let me out'." You grabbed the clipboard containing a checklist of the areas you were to double check on before locking up and proceeded to glance over each area of the set. 

Just as you were wrapping up your check of the cast trailers, a voice in the relative darkness startled you. "Miss Y/L/N." You straightened your posture and started fumbling in your pocket for something, anything to defend yourself with. Then you remembered the keys, so you quickly started threading each key in between your fingers, when you felt two large hands gently grasp your shoulders. "Shh shh, it's alright. It's just me. You're safe."

You let out the heaving breath you were holding, recognizing the voice immediately. "Tom," you breathed out, the fear leaving your body, but the tension remaining. "Fucking hell I was about to stab you." You felt your spine go frigid as you felt him pressing tender kisses to the top of your head as his hand traveled down your arm to deftly remove the keys from between your fingers. 

"I didn't mean to startle you," he whispered into your hair, his hand once again traveling up your arm and resumed its place on your shoulder. "I simply wanted to ensure you were safe. I didn't see you come out of the studio." He moved his head to press a kiss to your temple. "I apologize, goddess."

There was that name again, stealing all the breath from your lungs and making you question so much about you. About him. But mostly it made you question…"Why do you keep calling me that?" 

His hand traveled up to lightly grasp your chin, urging you to turn your head and look up at him. "Because that's what I call you," he answered simply, bringing his face much closer to yours. Once he was close enough that you could feel his breath on your lips, he whispered, "When I dream of you." 

Instead of saying anything, you opted to bring your hand up to the back of his neck, threading your fingers through his short dark blond curls and gently pulling him down towards you, touching your lips to his briefly in a tentative, fleeting kiss. This led to him quickly turning you to face him, lifting you by the backs of your thighs, and backing you into the side of the nearest trailer. 

When he had you securely trapped between him and the trailer, he brought his hand up to cup your face, while the other roamed from your thigh and up the side of your body. Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt his thumb lightly graze the side of your breast. 

Just as he was about to lean in to kiss you, you breathed out, "Wait." He stopped immediately, his eyes quickly becoming apologetic. "I-I don't know…" you stammered, trying to find your words, but quickly realizing that the most honest words you had at the moment were, "I don't know how to be what you want. I don't know anything--" 

A smile of relief began to spread across his face. "It's alright." He pressed a quick kiss to your lips, as if to reassure you. "I simply want you, Y/N. As you are." A soft kiss to your cheek, then your jaw. "I want to make you happy." A kiss to the skin below your ear, before placing his hand lightly around your throat, sending a thrill throughout your entire body, and then whispering, "I want to satisfy you." 

"And what do you get out of this?" you breathed out. "Seems to me I'm the only one benefiting from this, that's not right." 

"Me? That's easy," he murmured against your skin as he rolled his hips into yours, causing you to let out an obscene moan that echoed through the dark empty halls of the studio. "I get you." 

This was an unusual morning. Unusual in the sense that this time, you were not woken up by the scandalous sound of your alarm, rather you'd awoken in this blissful, sated state. Your mind raced through the memories from last night, how you'd practically raced to your hotel room hand in hand with Tom after you'd locked up in the studio. 

The almost reverent way he stripped you of your clothing, pausing to press kisses to every new area of skin exposed to him, how he already had you a writhing mess before he even took off your panties. How he brought you and pushed you well past the point of complete ecstasy with his fingers and his mouth multiple times before he even made love to you.

Repeatedly.

You bit your lip as the memories came at you in vivid detail, pushing yourself off of your bed to get ready for the day ahead. Before you could even begin to inch yourself out of the bed, an arm tightened around your waist, pulling your naked body against a broad, toned, equally naked form. 

A smile found its way to your face with no effort at all as you placed your hand over the arm wrapped around you, your fingertips tracing the length of the forearm, causing him to stir and press his body even closer to yours. A hybrid between a giggle and a moan escaped your lips as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, his hum of satisfaction vibrating throughout your body. 

He moved his kisses across your shoulder, pausing for a good few moments on the juncture of your shoulder and your neck before moving up to your ear and whispering in the most delicious sleep-laden voice, "Good morning, goddess." 

A/N: Please don't crucify me for the non-smutty implied smut, I am babie. But the idea refused to leave my head so I had to write it.

This insanity was based off of this post because I'm gonna be honest, my brain went places when I saw those pictures. AND THE GIF

Here's a bonus gif for those who read until the end:

Taglist: @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @imalovernotahater @mygfloki @lucylaufeyson3 @thomase1 @springdandelixn @fictive-sl0th @mochie85 @laliceee @xorpsbane @gigglingtigger @silverfire475 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @vickie5446 @salempoe @lokixryss @sinsandguilt @lokidbadguy @alexakeyloveloki @glitterylokislut @arch-venus25 @freefrommars @littlemortals @cakesandtom @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mischief2sarawr @thedistractedagglomeration @five-miles-over @goblingirlsarah @peaches1958 @huntress-artemiss @lilibet261 @iobsessoverfictionalmen @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lovingchoices14 @avoliax @devilsadvocactus @purplegrrl27 @lokiprompts @sititran @imherefortomhiddleston @ladyjames78 @stupidthoughtsinwriting

[thevibraniumveterans]

STAR WARS — The Acolyte

EP 4 - Day

MAIN THOUGHTS:

Very curious title, I wonder what that means in the context of this episode… would that mean that the next episode’s title would be “Night”? I mean, I’m speculating. I wouldn’t know, but would also not be surprised if that turns out to be the case.

Seeing Mae spooked was unexpected.

I love that this episode had its moments of brevity.

This episode also had some pretty deep insights into how the Jedi (as people) thought, but also how the Jedi (as a whole) operated.

Spoilers in my notes below.

- Dawn on the mountainsides of Khofar, a planet last seen in Ep2. Clouds hang low, and Kelnacca heads home. He is wearing his robes. On the walls of his abode are symbols of pseudo-yin/yang imagery. Kelnacca takes what looks like his food off the stove, and the camera zooms in on a dotted outline of two yin/yang circles, one big and one small.

- One classic Powerpoint transition later, we open on Coruscant during the day. Jecki and several other padawans are practicing their forms using training sticks while their teacher provides pointed advice. Osha stands in the doorway, silent. Jecki greets Osha, who says she’s leaving. Jecki is surprised. Long story short, Osha thanks Jecki for aiding Osha in finding and apprehending her sister Mae, whom she long thought dead but was and is still alive. Jecki says she was just doing her duty. Osha doesn’t want to find Mae (as she’s already done that), so passes the responsibility on to the Jedi, as in Osha’s own words, “I’m not a Jedi.” She can’t deal with having to apprehend her own sister, as Mae may view it as further betrayal. Osha wants to leave and not cause further “trouble” for Master Sol.

- On Khofar. Mae and Qimir unpack, but Mae stands up to walk away, something Qimir warns against. He tells her that Osha being alive “doesn’t change anything”; Mae being Mae, she pointedly ignores the comment, bemoans the lack of sunlight left (“three hours”, she says), and says to get going before it gets too late to kill Kelnacca.

- TITLE CARD!!

- In the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, the Masters gather around a holoprojector, analyzing a recording of Mae’s attack movements. All, except Sol, do not know who she is. Sol notes that not even Mae knows who trained her, just that she has training, and must be stopped. Vernestra reminds the gathered Masters of how dangerous Mae is, pointing out how she targeted Kelnacca, Torbin, Indara, and Sol. “The four Jedi stationed on her home planet when she was a child,” says Vernestra. “How odd.” Does she notice the irony? Of going somewhere they should never have stepped foot, and removed a child from her sister and community? Vernestra thinks that a rogue Jedi has trained Mae, saying “even a hologram can tell” her that. Other Masters raise concerns, but she knows that raising this concern to the Council would lead to the Council informing the Senate, and that’s something nobody wants. Supposedly this is the first seeds of what will be, in decades to come, an entanglement of the Jedi with politics; hence why Vernestra wants to keep this off the books, so to say. She wants Kelnacca taken back to Coruscant and Mae intercepted. Hopefully before Kelnacca is accosted. Vernestra and Sol speak in the corridor; he insists to be the one to bring Mae in, but Vernestra knows that’s not gonna happen without a price.

- On Khofar. Qimir and Mae trek along a path. They speak; Mae brings up her sister Osha and Master Sol in the same breath, and Mae stares at him.

- Back at the Temple, Sol meets up with Osha as he requests her to join him on his mission to intercept Mae. Osha declines this offer, but Sol insists otherwise. He tells her how he knew Mae still had something of a soft spot for Osha. “There is still good in her,” Sol tells Osha. “The part of her that loves you.” (This was also evident last half-scene when Mae had asked Qimir about Osha.) Osha knows she still loves her sister, but states the cold truth that Mae is a murderer. (Which in some sense is true.) Sol is optimistic and says, “But she is still your family.” Osha finally agrees, oddly stating “I am not wearing that civilian robe.”

- …Which is EXACTLY the thing she ends up wearing the immediate scene later. (This trope is hilarious.) Yord briefs the room aboard the transport ship, and refers to Osha as a “civilian”; she snarks back and says it’s “very comprehensive”. Jecki wants to laugh, but doesn’t. On Khofar, Jecki asks for directions, and is told not much of Kelnacca’s solitude. The group of Jedi, including Sol, Jecki, Yord, including Osha, come to a precipice overlooking the dense forest. Sol says he knows Kelnacca is within said forest. Regardless, they begin to trek in the direction of the forest. Osha tells Yord of her concern that she might not be of much help, but Yord says, “Mae has always been your wound. Maybe Sol brought you here to face her, but maybe he brought you here to face yourself.” (Which on a meta level is hilarious because Amanda Stenberg does play Osha AND Mae.)

- Elsewhere on Khofar, Mae and Qimir run into the dense forest, reaching a seemingly dead end that isn’t a dead end. Without Mae and Qimir knowing, the Jedi group also trek deeper into the woods. Osha finds the group surrounded by flying, multi-segmented, arthropod creatures (I don’t know what they’re called — the subtitles say this is an umbramoth); Sol deals with creature and warns the group to keep moving.

- Still on Khofar, it’s sunset. Qimir and Mae keep running; he seems overexcited. Mae says killing Kelnacca is “not a test” but the “final lesson” that she has to “teach herself.” But if she has four Jedi to kill, two of which she has disposed of, that means that she has two more to kill, with one literally finding his way to her. Mae is befuddled by the impossibility and ironic juxtaposition of killing an Jedi, unarmed, and the Jedi not being able to kill her unarmed.

- The group of Jedi continue to trek forward, when they hear Mae screaming for help. Qimir, somewhere nearby, hears it too. Might this be part of Mae’s plan? To appear in need of help and vulnerable and when people least expect it, to aim and swing? Turns out that was half right; she’s lured a trap, and inadvertently trapped Qimir. However; what she tells him next, I did not expect in the slightest (although it makes half sense): “After running through that forest for an extremely long time, I realized something. I don’t need to do this anymore. I don’t need to kill a Jedi without a weapon. I don’t need to keep this deal. You were wrong. Osha being alive changes everything. My loyalty is to Osha. Not your Master.” Mae states that she will surrender to Kelnacca and turn herself in. Qimir warns her against this, saying the Jedi would imprison her, but Mae has a plan for that. (Is this part of her plan? To appear harmless? Does she really want to up and surrender, and not fight for her Master? If this is true, then the Acolyte is in fact NOT Mae but her Master, who serves somebody else. If this is the case then Mae is a red herring, a plot device to lead us astray into thinking she’s the acolyte when in fact she is not who we think she is.)

- Somewhere nearby, the group of Jedi remain on the search. Osha tells Sol she’s ready to face Mae, but similar to what Yord told her earlier, Sol tells Osha, “You’re not going to face her, you’re going to face your past. Both of us will.” (Meaning, Osha will face the sister she thought she lost but knows now is alive, and Sol will face again the young woman he couldn’t save but hopes to save now.)

- Mae keeps running, and eventually finds Kelnacca’s abode. She falls, only to look up and see a tracker, who tells the group of Jedi, who are now hot on her heels. Here’s the thing. They don’t know Mae’s plan to surrender herself. Whether she is actually going to surrender herself, we don’t know now, but will know soon. She runs into his abode, only to discover he has been murdered, a smoldering slash across his chest. Mae starts panicking, knowing that her Master is planetside and that she has failed. The Jedi come to a stop outside Kelnacca’s home, and call Mae by name, knowing she is inside. She however, is afraid, not knowing where her Master is but knowing he could be very close by. Sol turns around, and a dark figure floats menacingly behind Osha, who has a “he’s right behind me isn’t he” moment. The other Jedi turn around, and so does Osha. The helmeted, black-clad figure comes face to face with Osha, who is frozen in fear, and ignites his blood-red saber. The Jedi ignite their lightsabers too, and shout for Osha to run. The figure uses the Force to shove Osha aside, and to blast the approaching Jedi back in a cloud of dust.

[echo-bleu]

your smile tells me I'm safe

4k, also on AO3, first part of my modern Russingon QPR AU on that tree I'll carve your name.

“I’m in love with you,” Fingon says one morning in September.

Maedhros is perched on the couch’s armrest, bent down, struggling to tie his laces. It’s something he can normally do easily, if slowly, his stump pressed against the loops as he forms them with his hand. But on some days, his shoulder protests the twist it requires, and he can’t quite get his forearm at the right angle. That’s why he has several pairs of boots that zip up instead, but today is the first staff meeting of the autumn semester, and he wants to wear his nice shoes.

He looks up at Fingon as the words sink in. His unbound hair makes a curtain in front of his eyes, and he can only see parts of him, the hand on his shoulder bag, the golden beads in his perfectly braided hair, his hesitant, expectant smile.

His face falls the longer Maedhros takes to answer. They’re running late for the meeting, and there’s a lead weight in Maedhros’s gut that pulls painfully as words fail to form on his lips. I’m in love with you too, the words are right there, but it’s like someone has sucked all the sound out of him.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said it,” Fingon says, too fast, too high-pitched, a garble of words Maedhros’s brain can barely decipher. “It’s the worst possible moment, but I’ve been waiting and there’s never a right one and you looked so lovely with your hair hanging like that and—”

He stops to draw a breath, shaky and panicked. Maedhros still feels strangled, but he gives up on his laces and shakes off the shoes to cross the room. He cups Fingon’s chin to make him look up.

“It’s okay, I just.” He stops there, abruptly, with no idea what to say. “Need time,” he finishes after a moment, but the pause hangs between them like a condemnation.

Fingon gives him a brave smile. “Okay,” he says. “Take all the time you need.”

But his posture is tight like he already knows how it’s going to go. He expects Maedhros to turn him down – of course he does. To push him away again, this time for good. He expects Maedhros to ask him to move out, or to pine until they drift apart because of the awkwardness.

Maedhros wants to reassure him, but the only things that come to mind are platitudes – it doesn’t change anything, whatever happens we will stay friends – and they will sound far too much like no, I don’t love you back. And if he knows one thing, it’s that it isn’t true.

So he goes to get his zip boots from his closet and they walk out of the flat in silence. Fingon won’t meet his eyes, and he’s careful not to touch him at any point as they board the metro together.

They make it to the meeting on time, somehow, and they sit together through three powerpoint presentations and an hour of arguing because they always do, and Maedhros doesn’t absorb a single thing that has been said.

I’m in love with you.

The words run on loop inside his head, leaving no room for anything else.

It’s not a surprise, not really. Fingon had a crush on him even back before the accident, according to Káno. They’ve grown very close since reconnecting, and his brothers have teased him about it more than once. Looking back, the signs are there. Maedhros should have seen it coming.

And he does love Fingon back, doesn’t he?

Once home, after another awkward metro ride, he lies down on his bed and stares at the ceiling, the question running in his mind.

The reality of it is that he doesn’t know. He loves Fingon as a friend, as his best friend, there’s no doubt about that. He loves hanging out with him, watching movies on the couch together and working side by side on their laptops. He loves how they laugh together about the most ridiculous things, how Fingon beams at him whenever they cross paths at uni even though they’ve already seen each other in the morning.

He wants to be there to comfort him when he has a bad day. He wants Fingon to be there for him when he has a bad day. He wants to celebrate their victories together, and commiserate on the small annoyances, and hug each other through the hard times.

He can barely imagine his life without Fingon in it. He doesn’t want a life without Fingon in it.

Is that being in love?

And if it is, then why couldn’t he say it back?

He tries to say it out loud, alone in his bedroom. I’m in love with you. The words still won’t make it past his lips.

Letting out a frustrated groan, he gets up again and goes to cook dinner.

*

The next day, Maedhros’s shoulder hurts enough that he is forced to use his sling. It means that Fingon doesn’t push, doesn’t ask him anything more. He is as he always is on those days – worried and considerate, and there’s almost no awkwardness. He smoothly anticipates Maedhros’s needs, and if there is a slightly different quality to his posture when they spend the evening on the couch, Maedhros’s head on his lap, well, Maedhros is in too much pain to notice.

It lasts almost three days, leaving Maedhros exhausted for another two. There is no energy to spare for feeling guilty, though Fingon’s words are still in his mind. Fingon grows stiffer with him – not purposefully, but he stares at Maedhros’s back at lot, and he’s quick to look away when Maedhros turns around. Several times, for no discernable reason, he stands up and walks out of the living room, going to work in his bedroom instead.

It’s Sunday by the time Maedhros feels well enough to get out of the flat for any length of time. Feeling cooped up, he goes for a walk, but the sky starts pouring when he’s only made it around the corner. By the time he makes it back home, he’s drenched.

Fingon looks up from where he’s typing on his laptop on the couch. Seeing Maedhros dripping on the welcome mat like a wet dog, he starts laughing.

It’s a beautiful sound.

“That’s right, make fun of my misery,” Maedhros rolls his eyes, but he can’t help smiling.

He runs his hand through his dripping hair to get it out of his face, and Fingon’s smile slowly wanes, a thoughtful, sad look taking its place. This has happened too many times in the last week. Fingon hasn’t brought it up again, but it’s obvious that he’s thinking about it.

Maedhros steels himself as he dries his hair with a towel in the bathroom and changes. While he’s not Fingon, who tends to run head-first into danger, he’s never been one to avoid the things that scare him. He can do this. Fingon deserves an explanation, at the very least.

“What you said the other day,” he starts as soon as he comes out of the bathroom. “Are you certain?”

Fingon startles, looks at him, closes his laptop and takes a breath. “Of course. But it’s okay if you don’t feel the same.”

He doesn’t sound as if anything about this is okay, but he’s trying. He’s just never been a good liar. His hands are restless, pulling on one of his braids compulsively.

Maedhros sighs and sits down in the armchair across from the couch. “I can’t be with you in that way.”

He’s half-proud of the way his voice didn’t waver, but Fingon looks gutted, and all of his pride immediately fades away.

“May I—” Fingon says, working his jaw and looking anywhere but at him. “May I ask why?”

Maedhros thinks of all the excuses he’s constructed in his head. That relationships between roommates often end in disaster. That they’re basically cousins, and their fathers hate each other, and it would be terrible for the family unity. That Fingon is already taking care of him far too often as it is, that Maedhros and his chronic pain and his missing hand and his depression would make a terrible partner. They are all true.

They’re also just excuses.

“Because,” he says. He pushes his still-damp hair out of his face. “Because you’re lovely, and kind, and brave, and beautiful, and everything I could ever want, and I love you, but… I can’t give you what you want.”

Fingon frowns, now biting on his nails. “I don’t want anything except for you.”

“No, I can’t—I can’t be the person you deserve.”

“I don’t understand.”

Maedhros sighs. There they are. He takes a deep breath, looking at his lap.

“You deserve someone who can love you back, fully, who can be with you in every way, and I don’t—I don’t have it in me. I just don’t… It’s not there. Something in me is broken. I don’t know if it’s the depression, or the trauma, or if I was born this way, but I can’t give you that, and you deserve better than someone who can’t love you properly.” He swallows a sob on the last word. “I’m sorry,” he adds, his voice hoarse. “I’m so sorry.”

Fingon stares, and doesn’t say anything. Maedhros can’t tell if he’s shocked, or disgusted, or simply waiting for him to pull himself back together. He buries his face in his hands.

He works on the breathing exercises he learned in therapy for a minute, in silence. When he feels calm enough to look up, Fingon is still staring at him, his head slightly tilted, as if trying to solve a mystery.

“Maedhros,” he says slowly. “Are you aromantic?”

Maedhros blinks. His brain halts to a stop.

Is he?

“I—” He gestures helplessly. “I don’t know?”

“It means you don’t experience romantic attraction to people,” Fingon explains helpfully, but Maedhros already knows that.

It never seemed like a very useful description to him. What does it even mean? Is he supposed to get butterflies in his stomach? That’s just an overly dramatic metaphor from teenage romance novels, surely adult relationships are about something else…

Right?

“Ah,” he says, because he can’t think about anything else.

“It would be okay,” Fingon says, still trying to be helpful. “If you are.”

Maedhros thinks about that, and he definitely can’t dig into it deeper without getting overwhelmed. He puts his head in his hands again. Breathes.

“Maedhros.”

He looks up. Fingon has stood up from the couch, and he looks like he wants to come closer, but he doesn’t. He starts pacing instead, in a tiny line down the length of the couch, four steps forward and a turn. Then he sits down again.

“What I’m hearing,” he says, enunciating carefully, “is that you’re perhaps not attracted to me romantically, but you think you could have been if you were wired that way. Which suggests that you are perhaps attracted to me in other ways?”

Maedhros feels himself blush. “Um, not… not—”

“Sexually? No, I already know you’re ace, I’m not expecting you to— Wait,” he stops himself when Maedhros’s eyes bulge out. “Are you not ace?”

“I—”

Fingon grimaces. “I assumed because of how you’re always avoiding the subject, but I should have asked, sorry.”

“No, I… I don’t—”

Maedhros searches for words for an awkward moment before Fingon finally catches on. “Valar, you don’t even know what I’m talking about, do you?”

“I know what ace is,” Maedhros says. “I just. Don’t know what I am.”

Fingon bursts out laughing. Maedhros watches him uncomprehendingly, still reeling from the new thoughts hammering in his brain.

“I’m sorry, this is totally inappropriate,” Fingon says, wiping his eyes. “I just… Only you. You’re proudly out as queer, you go to pride, you’ve known that you’re nonbinary for – how long?”

Maedhros hesitates. That is, somehow, something they’ve never really talked about. Fingon took it in stride when Maedhros came out to him, but they never really dug into the subject. “When—when you came out, and Ñolo wasn’t… great about it, I started researching, you know, studies and articles about gender, so I could make sure I was informed and maybe send them to him.”

He feels his cheeks heat up. Fingon’s amused grin turns into a beaming smile, lighting up his face. “For me?”

“Of course. It took me a couple years to really start questioning it for myself, and by then…”

“We weren’t speaking any more.”

“Yeah.”

He opens his mouth to apologize, for the hundredth time, but Fingon holds up a hand. “And in all that time, all that research, you never heard about aromanticism?”

“No, I did. I know what it is, I just…”

I just didn’t think it could be me. I just thought I was broken. He doesn’t say it out loud.

He’s not convinced that it isn’t the truth of it. That there are the real aromantics, the ones who are perfectly valid in their (lack of) orientation, and there’s him, the imposter. It took him years and dozens of hours of therapy to accept his gender – he still slides back on the regular, feeling like he’s claiming a label that he has no right to. This – this is too much.

“Whatever I am, whatever – it doesn’t matter,” he says. “It doesn’t change anything for you.”

Fingon worries at his lower lip. “Putting words on it helps. And it means…” he hesitates. “It means it’s not me you can’t love.”

He’s fiddled with the bead at the end of one of his braids so much that it’s coming apart. Maedhros sighs. “It’s not you,” he confirms. “If I could want someone, anyone… It would be you.”

He wonders, suddenly, if Fingon will want to keep his distance now, if trying to get over him (how do you get over love?) will mean staying away. The thought slithers inside his throat and swells until he can barely breathe.

The idea of losing Fingon…

Fingon is following his own train of thoughts, and giving him a sad smile. “I’m glad to know that,” he says softly.

“Is this— Does this mean—” Maedhros can’t even ask. He runs his hand through his hair, pulling hard at the ends.

“I don’t know,” Fingon says. “It depends on what it means for you, I suppose.”

Maedhros frowns. “How?”

“If you can’t feel attraction to me, does it mean that you also don’t want a relationship? It doesn’t have to be romantic, or sexual.”

“What else is there? You’re already my best friend, unless you don’t want to—”

“No!” Fingon almost shouts. Maedhros blinks at him, surprised. “Not that, I’ll always be your friend if that’s what you want,” he says more softly, but no less forcefully.

“Oh,” Maedhros murmurs, only now noticing how fast his heart is beating. That eases some of his dread. “Good. Because I don’t want to lose you.”

“Me neither. Never.”

Fingon looks close to tears. Maedhros wants to hug him. He makes an aborted gesture toward him with his stump, to check if it would be welcome, and Fingon opens his arms.

Gratefully, Maedhros switches from his armchair – which suddenly feels too far away – to the couch beside Fingon. Fingon scoots over so that Maedhros can be on his right, and slide his left arm across his back. He’s careful of Maedhros’s shoulder when he returns the hug, nuzzling Maedhros’s neck.

“I’m not letting go of you,” he murmurs. “No matter what.”

Then he raises his head again. “Some aro people have queer-platonic relationships. I think. I’m not exactly knowledgeable, but we could research. Is that something you’d want?”

Maedhros gives himself a minute to think about it properly, running his fingers up and down Fingon’s arm. He tries to push away the intrusive thoughts – you’re just broken, you’ll never be good enough for him, he’s generous enough to give you the benefit of the doubt – and actually considers the question.

“I don’t know,” he says.

The thing is – the thing is, he doesn’t think he would want any kind of relationship, aside from friendship, with anyone else than Fingon. So what does that make him?

And Fingon… Fingon is normal, and beautiful and smart and kind, and he could have anyone he wanted. He shouldn’t have to settle for someone like Maedhros.

“Fingon,” he says slowly, prompting him to meet his eyes. “I love you, and I want you in my life more than anything, but you still deserve better. You deserve someone who can love you for real.”

“Oh, Mae.” Fingon reaches up to push his hair back behind his ears. “It doesn’t make your love any less real.”

“But I can’t love you the way you love me.”

Fingon shrugs. “I don’t care. I just want you. From where I’m standing, this just means that we get to define our relationship in whatever way we want. We can just throw other people’s expectations out of the window. I don’t need romance. I don’t need sex. We can figure out what we like together.”

“So if we just continue as we have, you’d be satisfied?”

He smiles. “Without being afraid that you’ll bolt if you find out my feelings? Without feeling like I’m lying every time I look at you? Yes. I don’t need more than that. I just want to be with you.”

“With me,” Maedhros repeats, trying to taste what that would feel like.

Fingon turns to lean against his chest, propping his feet on the edge of the coffee table. “So, can we try? We can research QPRs and see how other people do it. And if nothing fits, we can just make it up.”

“I— Okay,” Maedhros whispers. “We can try.”

It feels easier, perhaps, to say it to the top of Fingon’s head, rather than to his face. He’d do anything for Fingon, but he can’t give him what just isn’t there. How long until Fingon gets bored or frustrating and realizes what he’s missing? How long until Maedhros’s lack comes between them?

But Fingon looks so relieved, relaxed in Maedhros’s arms, and they’ve been cuddling like this on the couch for months. Maybe things don’t have to change too much. They can figure this out as they go along, and if one day it’s no longer enough, then – they’ll cross that bridge when they get there.

So for now – for now, maybe.

*

“Shit!”

Maedhros looks up from his sketchbook, alarmed. He twists around to check on Fingon, who is standing in front of the sink, peeling tomatoes.

“What did you do this time?” he asks nonchalantly, when he’s determined that nothing majorly dangerous has happened.

“Nicked my finger. It’s fine, it’s just a small cut.” Fingon turns on the tap and holds his hand under the water.

“No need for stitches?”

“No, just a band-aid, maybe.”

Maedhros nods, even though Fingon has his back turned to him, and he puts down his pencil to go get band-aids and antiseptic from the bathroom cabinet.

“Give me your hand,” he says, hooking his foot around the rolling stool they keep in the kitchen area to pull it closer. He sits down and Fingon holds out his now dripping hand. Thankfully, it is only dripping water and not blood, and the cut is objectively very small. Barely enough to justify a band-aid at all, if not for the fact that Fingon will never leave it alone and keep re-opening it if it’s not protected.

Maedhros struggles a little with the box, which is not made to be opened one-handed, and takes out one of the child superhero-themed band-aids. He got them for Fingon as a joke, because he goes through boxes of bandages seemingly like candy, but Fingon unironically loves them. They already adorn several of his fingers like so many rings, little explosions of colour against his dark skin.

Maedhros slaps the newest one on his index finger and jokingly bends to kiss it better – but he lingers, just a little. Fingon doesn’t take his hand back. It lasts no more than an extra second or two, but it’s enough for Maedhros’s brain to start spinning.

Very little has changed between them since their talk. Some of the awkwardness of the last weeks has faded, and new embarrassment arises in entirely different places, but it’s all very subtle. They’ve hung out just as much as they usually do, and Fingon truly seems content with what they have.

Maedhros is still cataloguing moments. Trying to sort what counts as romantic, and what is just friendship. What the distinction even means to him. Kissing Fingon’s finger – is it a joke, or a moment of tenderness? Can it be both? Is it an issue if it’s both?

“You’re overthinking again,” Fingon says lightly.

“Ugh,” Maedhros mutters, standing up and leaning forward to gently headbutt Fingon on the way.

“Whatever feels right,” Fingon reminds him. “It doesn’t have to be more complicated than that.”

“What if what feels right to me isn’t what feels right to you?”

Fingon shrugs. “If it feels wrong to either of us, we don’t do it. You just have to be honest about it.”

They’ve looked up queer-platonic relationships together, but there seems to be as many ways to be in one as there are people who are. The only requirement is, well, declaring it a relationship.

If Fingon is truly serious about this, about not wanting to seek someone who can actually love him properly, then Maedhros wants to give him at least that. Commitment.

It shouldn’t be difficult. Tyelko often jokes that Maedhros is more loyal than a dog (but then, Tyelko loves dogs more than people). He has, always, given a hundred percent of himself to those important in his life – more than was healthy, sometimes. He loves Fingon, and there is no doubt in his mind that he wants that to continue.

But he’s abandoned Fingon once. Not out of any desire to hurt him – on the contrary – but that’s how Fingon experienced it, and it stands between them even now. He pushed Fingon away, and they didn’t see each other again for almost a decade. They went through the worst times of their lives separately, because of Maedhros’s misguided desire to protect him.

Maedhros takes a breath and catches Fingon’s arm before he can turn away.

“I want a queer-platonic relationship with you,” he says – just a touch too fast, but going by the sudden glow of Fingon’s eyes, it’s still understandable.

Fingon has already made his desires clear. He’s been patiently waiting for Maedhros to express himself, never pushing.

“I don’t know what it will look like exactly,” Maedhros warns, like an apology. “I just know I want to be with you.”

Fingon beams. “I will never push you to do something you don’t want,” he promises. “We can explore. Take it slow. Not do anything different at all, if that’s what you like.”

“I—would like to hug you,” Maedhros says.

And it’s not something new, they’re both tactile with each other, but they’ve never hugged as partners before. Or whatever words they’ll end up using.

Fingon makes a noise of excitement and launches himself at Maedhros, catching himself with his arms around his neck. Maedhros would have toppled over, had he been even a little shorter or lighter. As it is, he hurriedly stabilizes himself with a hand on the counter and returns the hug, squeezing Fingon tightly against his chest.

“I love you,” Fingon says. “Is that okay to say?”

“You already said it before,” Maedhros points out.

“Just wanted to make sure.”

Maedhros squeezes him a little tighter, until Fingon squeaks in protest. They both laugh, Fingon’s head still buried in Maedhros’s shoulder.

“I love you too,” Maedhros says quietly, and it doesn’t feel romantic, or wrong, or anything but the most genuine truth. He loves Fingon. Fingon loves him.

If this is to be them, this openness and communication and mutual respect, then – then he thinks he can get used to it.

reblogs and comments make my day!

[simmonsized]

Okay happy Friday it's midnight and the tense group mate saga has finally ended

Honestly I cannot even keep track of what I have and have not told everyone but basically last week recap:

- person who is the problem stopped entire experiment to log data and wasted everyone's time

- proceeded to say "I'll make the graphs in R but not tonight.... And not this weekend either"

- I can't even complain because I was literally fangirling all over Jess this past weekend like was so excited we didn't even remember to take selfies

Anyway so Wednesday night no one has heard from this person and our project is due Thursday

- other two group mates are like should we talk to professor???

- 11 pm Wednesday mr problem finally emails to say "hey can we talk presentation???"

- good group member number one is like "I sent the presentation link to everyone already do you want me to send again"

- no reply beyond oh okay I see it

- person continues not to even start graphs

- smashcut to this morning in our 8 hour lab, person is like oh I'll get the graphs going now

- okay fine sure fine whatever as long as you're doing something

- me and groupmates 1 and 2 are frantically getting powerpoint ready

- okay cool done before everyone comes back for presentation time

- get an honest to God text from groupmate 1 during the presentations of the other groups to say oh my god I just looked at the slides and problem child changed a bunch of things

- she literally started crying I found out later

- groupmate 2 is frantically trying to get the corrections in to send to teacher

- problem member hears that we're correcting it and storms out of the room during 5 minute break

- I finally end up sending the corrections myself since there were problems with the email

Turns out he literally deleted like all of groupmate 1's conclusion and had deleted (still do not know why) our alternate hypotheses leaving only the null, some of which we were able to fix before turn in

Just wild behavior honestly

Anyway never have to work together again goodbye but what a fucking nightmare

Also over half the class knows we are having Trouble

And apparently this same person is a thorn in the side of the other group they're a part of for my normal ecology lab too like???? Man.

What the fuck.

[shall-we-imagine]

Cookies and sleep (Klaus Goldstein AU)

A/N: literally ever since I saw this ask I've been wanting to write it the feeling I get from it is just aahh 💞💞💞

Genre: ?

(Third person point of view)

8:04 AM

"Shit." The blond mutters, realizing he'd overslept. Yes, indeed, it is his day off, but that doesn't make it any less busy than a work day..

He practically falls off the bed in an attempt to sprint to the bathroom, silently cursing his phone for the missing alarm all the way.

He skips his morning shower, knowing he'll come back sweaty and gross in an hour or so after he goes running.

Yes, the perfect time for a run would've been around 6 am, but this damned phone decided it was okay to let Klaus have an extra two hours, which he probably needed after staying up late working on a PowerPoint, but still: Klaus wasn't very thankful. He now has to push all his plans 2 hours back.

Grabbing his phone and earphones along with his jacket, he runs into the street madman style. A very late madman.

The cold air stings his skin like a thousand invisible needles. "Fuck." He breathes out, attempting to wear his jacket without really slowing down, which he's almost sure looks absolutely ridiculous, but he doesn't have time to waste, so if he needs to make a fool out of himself to get things done then so be it.

He eventually reaches the park where he usually goes for a run; it had a huge running track surrounding it, making it both challenging and fun. However, at this moment, Klaus could only view it as challenging, seeing as he's already panting after all the rush he was in ever since he woke up.

"No time for breaks." He mutters, forcing himself to push through the exhaustion while continuing to pant like a dog on a hot day.

He passes by another runner who just gives Klaus a sympathetic smile, as she proceeds with her routine, keeping her breathing steady. Klaus wanted to yell that he wasn't normally this pitiful and that he's actually fairly athletic, but he didn't have it in him to even speak, so he just displays a pained smile on his face instead, letting the random stranger think of him as pitiable.

10:23 AM

Klaus sighs. He knows he shouldn't hold onto the clouds of gloom surrounding him ever since he woke up, but it was very unlike him to be late. In fact, he's scolded countless people for being late, assuring them this could never be him.

Life is funny like that.

"No one will know. We'll take it to the grave." He assures himself, as he reaches for his keys.

His keys.

His keys?

Where are his keys?!

Did he drop them while running? No way; he would've known!

Did he even grab them before leaving?

"Fuck me." Klaus curses.

There's simply no way for him to open his door from outside except with the keys. He basically locked himself outside.

Elias has a spare key, but calling him would expose an unorderly, late, uncomposed Klaus. A version of him that should never see the light of day.

Klaus is not dramatic about this or anything.

10:37 AM

Klaus wonders if he needs a shower more or hisdignity and pride.

His stomach growls.

Klaus wonders if he needs a shower and food more or his dignity and pride.

He pushes himself off his front porch and circulates his house, sort of like a burglar tryna find his way in.

A miracle.

A thought shone through his misery, possibly saving the day.

Who would've known that delaying getting a window's broken lock fixed would bring such happiness to a perfectionist like him?

Klaus pushes the window open with one swift movement and kicks his leg up, hooking it on the window sill and pulling himself up.

The excitement had erased the dimensions of the window from Klaus's memory, but he was to be reminded immediately with a loud bang once his head collides with the top if the window.

He grumbles in pain and annoyance but pushes himself inside anyway.

He rubs his head and moans in pain, "Today's just not my day." he mumbles.

Klaus drags himself into the hot shower, relieved bythe only relaxing thing he's experienced this morning.

10:58 AM

Klaus isn't a fan of brunch, but he was too hungry to complain.

Hey, at least the waffles taste as good as they would've at 6 AM. He smiles to himself.

Meow

Klaus stiffens.

Would it be too farfetched to assume Elias came over with his kitten?

The source of the noise reveals itself. Lo and behold it is, in fact, not Elias's tiny black kitten. Instead, struts in a chubby orange cat that Klaus has never ever seen before.

"Rude." Klaus mumbles.

The cat meows back as if to object to his insult.

"Come on you invited yourself in! How did you even get in here?" His gaze pans over to the broken window. Aha.

"Well, whatever." He had no energy left to argue with the entitled feline. He wanted to eat his breakfast and relax.

11:14 AM

"You really shouldn't be eating so much; you're already a bit chubbier than you should be." His fingers lovingly rub the top of the stray's head, heavily contrasting his words. Thankfully, cats don't speak human.

Occupied with the tuna, Little Stalker -as Klaus called her- ignores Klaus's health advice and stuffs her face.

"Don't say I didn't warn you!" The blonde rolls his eyes, before proceeding to shower the cat with physical affection.

He almost melts when she purrs in response, but no, he must play hard to get.

12:03 PM

"Yes you're a good girl; you're the best girl! Good job!" He squeezes the towel-wrapped cat into his arms.

Hmm...how's 49 mins for hard to get?

At least he found it in him to force her into a bath, right?

The cat hisses at him, clearly unhappy with the progression of events, perhaps reconsidering its choices of houses to break into.

3:45 PM

Klaus groans at the doorbell, willing his sibling (probably) to go away. Not because he didn't miss him, but simply because he was comfortable in bed. So was Cookie, who'd gotten comfortable on his chest.

He admires his new furry friend, spotted with brown "chocolate chips" that inspired ber new more appropriate name. Alfonse or Elias better have have something worth moving the cat and getting up for.

He sighs and forces himself towards the noise of possibly the third or fourth round of knocks and bell rings.

"Why are you so persistent?" Klaus rolls his eyes.

"I missed you too, Klaus." Elias pushes past his older brother, tentatively followed by a giggly Alfonse.

Klaus glares at his older brother, scaring him into giving a better performance of totally not finding this funny.

Alfonse isn't very good at this role.

"W-when did you get a cat?" As confused as Elias is, that doesn't stop him from pulling the furball into his arms.

"Today. I also didn't get it; it sort of forced itself onto me, really." He shrugs.

"Explains a lot" The youngest retorts sarcastically but moves on nonetheless, practically adopting Cookie for the time being.

7:36 PM

"I told you I won't forget; now leave!"

"Okay, okay, you're so pushy, jeez."

Klaus practically shoves his younger brothers out the door.

"See you later; have a safe ride home; bye!" Door slam.

Klaus sigh, resting his back on the front door.

Cookie curiously approaches him, meowing in the process, earning herself a smile from the tall blond.

She rubs her head against his legs, so Klaus gives in and pulls her into his arms. "You're such a lil manipulator, y'know that?"

Klaus takes his new companion and goes back to his room.

9:49 PM

Cookie buries her face in the crook of a sleeping Klaus's neck, not very keen on making sure he doesn't wake up.

Alas, the blond was too far gone to be woken up by the furball.

After all, he'd had a pretty long day.

And even though he'd swear to never be able to sleep except in complete darkness, Klaus was now in deep sleep while the light from the tv screen illuminates his sharp features.

Well, not like that was the only out of character thing to happen today, huh?

[i-cant-sing]

Imagine it’s yn and a oc. Who’s getting flipped off in this scenario

Well, first of all- its me and my crush today because that bitch.... I think I have gotten over him with the way he treated me today. I asked him to bring me notes and he's like okay, and then when I went in today- he was like cr7ng so indifferent to me

Like I looked good today, I spent an hour and a half on my whole look and this bitch didn't even have the audacity to like blush or something. Okay maybe he didn't say anything because there were supervisors standing over us but still... when I asked him about the notes, he said in a slightly annoyed voice "I sent you the PowerPoint presentation" and I was like ??? I already had the presentations, I wanted the notes. And he's like "😮‍💨 are you coming again tomorrow?" And he said it like he was doing me a big favour and I said idk, maybe. But I'm actually not because I have fycking finals c9ming up, does this mf think I have all day, everyday????

Anyways, not that I expect him to like ask me about my day, but if he texts me, I AM NOT TEXTING BACK ANYMORE. This bitch- I looked so hot, 2 of his guy friends looked me up and down as I walked over to him.

Bitch ass, why is he sending me mixed signals??? Like if he's not interested, why is he walking over and visiting me with his friend DURING MY TEST and being all sneaky as he whispers "Hey, need any help?🥰" and then giving me the coldest shoulder today.

-

Also, this pic is giving Y/n and Magnus because Magnus is like "what do you mean you want to leave me???? Don't you love me???? You can't possibly want to throw our love away-" and reader just flips him off.

I can also see Dimitri on the receiving end often because this man is just crossing all the boundaries cause he's a fool in love. He's just speedwalking behind reader who's just stomping away angrily "why are you mad at me, darling? I did exactly what you wanted. What? Didn't you say you missed cooking food for the old lady who lived next to your apartment? What was so wrong with me having my men bring her here and live in the quarters downstairs? No, she's not aware that she is going to live here forever now but look- how much time does she have left anyways?? She's 94 for fucks sake-" and reader just flips him off.

Oh it's 1000% Y/n and Theodore all the time because Theo is teaching reader Russian maths because being kidnapped does not excuse you from getting an education. And Russian maths is already hard as it is, but learning it in SIGN LANGUAGE IS ANOTHER LEVEL OF DIFFICULTY. Theo is just like "Come on, focus. What sign is suppose to come here? I- don't DOSE OFF! Y/N! WHAT SIGN?" and reader just sticks her middle finger up in his face.