#she clearly needs support and not more bullshit

[sinofwriting]

Not - Max Verstappen (Dark Fic)

Words: 1,165 Summary: Max notices everything about her. Now he’s just waiting for her to tell him. (part of Claiming A Wife - Max verse) Note(s): Slight NSFW, DARK fic, the first part is dark, so inherently this part is as well. And if you haven’t read that part, please go read it. Context is somewhat needed.

Part One | Masterlist | Support Me! 

His name falls from her lips in a moan and she waits for his hands to fall to her hips, to grip them so rough he leaves bruises, she loves when he does that. But they don’t. They stay on her face, holding her as he kisses her.

“Max.” She finally manages to whine.

He smirks at her. “What?”

She pouts, something she had never allowed herself to do seriously, but being claimed by Max had changed things. She could be silly and bratty and Max would never let anyone say anything about it.

“I want you to be rough with me.”

It had been two weeks since the last time. She missed the bruises in the shapes of his hands on her hips, the bites on her inner thighs, and how she’d hurt when sitting from the spanks he’d give her when she really drove him crazy.

Something flashes in his eyes at her words, uncertainty. And then it’s gone.

“Are you saying I’m not fucking you properly?”

She nearly freezes at the question, at the warning. Because no, despite not having fucked her like she wanted, he was still more than fucking her properly. Sometimes she thought Max was trying to kill her with orgasms with how he acted.

“No.” She finally answers. She wanted bruises, to ache, to wince as she sat, but she only wanted that if Max wanted to give her that, not because she provoked him into it.

“Good.” He murmurs, pressing their lips together in a soft, sweet kiss.

—

Max isn’t sure how much longer he can wait.

Patience has never been his strong suit. Those first three months after he claimed her was torture for him, especially with that last month practically being foreplay at every turn. And now he’s been waiting for nearly three weeks for her to say something and she still hasn’t.

And it feels like it’s killing him. He wants nothing more than to hear her say it, to finally put his hands there with purpose and not the brushes he makes seem accidental.

He wants her to tell him, she obviously has a plan with how long she’s waited, but he doesn’t know how much longer he can wait which is why he’s not surprised it comes spilling out his mouth the next morning, her body curled into his.

“When are you going to tell me?” The words brush over her forehead, lips just barely not grazing the skin.

“Tell you what?” Her voice is still thick with sleep, warm against his skin.

“That your pregnant.”

She stiffens in his arms.

“I’m sorry if I’ve ruined what you had planned, but I’ve been waiting for over two weeks.”

He is sorry and he hopes in some way she can still do whatever it is that she wanted, but he needs to be able to touch her bump, to kiss and hold it, to press his lips against the skin as he talks to their baby.

“Max.” And she’s pulling away from him, something she’s never done. Even in that first tension filled week of him claiming her.

His hands desperately clutch at her, grip nearly tightening, but she stops moving. Their bodies are no longer touching and he can clearly see her face now.

“Max.” She repeats and there’s something sad in her eyes. “I’m not pregnant.”

His mouth drops open. “What?”

“I’m not pregnant.”

“You are.”

He wonders if this is what it’s like to be gaslight, if this is how Charles feels with Ferrari. He’s been lucky enough to not experience that bullshit with Red Bull and if it feels anything like this, he would prefer it stay that way.

“Vrouw,” he doesn’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry, honey.” Her thumb sweeps across the inside of his wrist. It’s her favorite comforting gesture to give him and it works, it always works, but this time it makes him feel like he’s losing his mind.

“But you are pregnant.”

Maybe he is crazy, arguing with his pregnant wife over whether she’s pregnant or not.

She starts to protest but he continues. “I realized it two weeks ago, of course. Your favorite drink gives you a headache. You’ve been throwing out things that smell funky. Every time I have a Red Bull now, you practically crawl into my lap to lick the taste of it out of my mouth. I keep wringing orgasms out of you and you still want more. My hand cramped twice yesterday. And,” he pauses seeing the shocked look on her face. His hand moves from her hip to her stomach, gently cupping where she's showing. “You started showing, just barely, but I know everything about your body. I noticed it as soon as it happened.”

“I’m pregnant.”

She sounds shocked and his eyebrows furrow.

“I’m pregnant.” She repeats and then suddenly she’s up and out of bed nearly falling over as she practically sprints to the bathroom.

She crouches down, opening the cabinet doors underneath the sink, searching for something, and she must find it because she makes a small noise and then the bathroom door is shutting, leaving Max staring at it with confusion.

She’s in there for just over three minutes when the door finally opens and she’s staring at him with eyes filled with tears, a grin stretched across her face. “I’m pregnant.”

He nods, slowly. Because yes, they knew this, he had just been over this.

A laugh leaves her and she’s climbing back into bed with him, settling herself against his body.

“I’m pregnant.”

“You're pregnant.” He doesn’t know why they are repeating this, but maybe this part of how she wanted to tell him. A bit strange, but he did ruin it for her.

She shakes her head, intertwining their fingers before resting their joined hands over her stomach. “I didn’t know.”

His eyes that had fallen to her bump, snapped upwards. “What?”

“I didn’t know I was pregnant. I just took a pregnancy test and it was positive.”

His mouth is open, brain struggling to process.

“You didn’t know.”

She shakes her head, letting out a small laugh. “No idea.” She leans forward a bit, pressing their lips together. “Of course you would know I’m pregnant before I did.”

“I really thought you knew. It seemed obvious.”

“Only because you notice everything about me.” She sounds exasperated but there’s a smile on her face. “I’m going to have to make a doctor appointment. Get an ultrasound.”

“I want to come.”

She nods, kissing him again. “I’ll check your schedule before making it.”

He smiles, “I can’t wait to see them. I’ve been waiting.”

She laughs, “well, I’m sorry you had to wait.”

“It’s okay.” He shrugs. “Not your fault you don’t notice things.”

“Max Verstappen!”

He laughs as she yanks her hand away from him, pushing him away.

“You are horrible.” She mutters, trying to hide her smile.

He grins at her. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[piastappies]

📸 END UP HERE

synopsis. when a guy keeps harassing his best mate’s cousin, there’s not a single thought on his mind that would make theo feel bad about wanting to beat the shit out of him.

theo nott x lestrange!reader. PLEASE. request more things for theo or mattheo. i’m literally in need.

theo couldn’t remember the exact moment, when his mind filled the urge to hit cormac mclaggen as hard as possible. on second thought, he definitely could.

theo’s been watching you ever since the party started. you were standing in the corner of the room, trying to get as little attention as possible — you wouldn’t even been there if amelia didn’t beg you to be her emotional support, so considering you were the best roommate (and friend) she could imagine, you said yes. maybe it was just the start of mistakes you were supposed to make that night, or so you thought.

you had a tight, dark red dress on you that hugged all your curves in the places it should. your make up just made you stand out from all the girls there, that’s what theo thought when he saw you. of course, you didn’t want to be there, but you couldn’t just pass on an occasion to dress up a bit, since you were going anyway. maybe your clothing choice was another of those mistakes.

nott’s attention was fully on you — a girl tried to hit him up? too bad, because she wasn’t even half as pretty as you were, and he knew you didn’t even try. it became obvious to all his friends that you were… quite a distraction. he would engage in a conversation, trying hard to have his focus on his friends, but then you would do something, and he felt obligated to look at you, but you were clearly oblivious to his gaze averting and coming back every once in a while.

“can you stop eye-fucking my cousin?” draco groaned, leaning on the wall behind them, bringing a cup to his lips, taking a small sip of alcohol. “it’s disgusting.” he added.

draco malfoy was the only reason that kept theodore from getting his hands on you, at least that’s what he would always tell people he bluntly ignored, when you walked into the room he was in. just because draco treated you like a sister, people thought nott would get a hold of his hormones.

but how could he, when you always looked so gorgeous?

“i’m not eye-fucking her, i’m a cultured man.” he said, getting lots of mocking laughs from mattheo and lorenzo (“you? a cultured man? never heard that much bullshit in my life.”). “i’m admir— ouch, c’mon, malfoy.” his fingers massaged the place that the blonde boy punched.

it all happened later that night, when nott was already a little lightheaded from a blunt he was smoking with mattheo. even if he didn’t want to concentrate on you, it was pointless, so he just watched you, shamelessly, being teased for it by his friend at the same time.

he noticed that cormac fucking mclaggen cornered you, and you had no possible chance to run away from him, your eyes scanning the room, looking for help until your gaze landed on theodore’s face, and he knew immediately. you watched him get up from the couchy, mumbling something to riddle before he made his way towards the corner you stood in.

he didn’t even say a thing, the discomfort in your eyes was enough to assume everything. he tapped the gryffindor’s shoulder, quickly throwing his fist forward, and you could’ve swore to god that you had heard bones crushing. theo just grinned mischievously as cormac looked at him a confussed expression, brushing his lip with his thumb.

but nott didn’t stop himself there, starting a fight. while mclaggen’s friends tried to pull the poor gryffindor away from theo, mattheo and enzo just stood behind him, with wide, prideful grins on their faces, shouting once in a while to encourage theo to “crush his skull”. if it wasn’t for blaise, who finally appeared (with amelia right beside him), the fight would go for probably even longer until one of the teachers didn’t interfere.

“stay the fuck away from her, mclaggen.” dark-haired spat at his opponent, the adrenaline running through his veins, so the bruises didn’t hurt at all. not until he was sat by the edge of the bathtub by you, when he realized that his face was throbbing with pain.

“theo.” you whispered, stading right between his legs, trying so hard to focus on patching him up more than the burning sensation of his hand on her hip. hearing the way you said his name almost made him groan — you were so perfect in his eyes that if he manned up, his hands would be everywhere, not just your hip. “could you please lift your head for me?”

there was something so incredibly intimate about that moment. he just fought for you, and instead of getting mad, you were right next to him, cleaning his face and hands off the blood, speaking so softly and touching him with such a gentle manner that theodore thought he died and woke up in heaven.

“i thought you said you wouldn’t be fighting random guys anymore.” you began, brushing his hair back, so you could press the wet towel to his forehead. “was he making you uncomfortable?” he asked, his tone a little raspy.

“well, yeah but–”

“then it wasn’t random.” theo shrugged, and if you two were in different circumstances now, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from crashing your lips into his. “he should’ve known that you’re my girl.” he mumbled as his hand slipped down on your thigh, his fingers digging into your soft flesh.

“you looked so good tonight.” he muttered after a minute of silence as you kept trying to concentrate on helping him first. a sigh left his lips as he pulled you a little closer. “i want to rip that dress off you, jesus. what are you doing to me?”

it took him one more swift pull to get you to straddle him. his fingers traced soft circles on your outer thighs as you were silently finishing up your job. your entire body was burning. unfortunately, your face was revealing the effect he had on you, and you hated it, because theo always made it his mission to make you blush as hard as possible.

the thing between you two was… indescribable. you weren’t a couple, but you acted like one, you weren’t friends with benefits, but you weren’t just friends. there were feelings involved and neither of you denied. there were mutual attraction, desire, urgency and neither of you could see themselves with someone else. if soulmates existed, then theodore faustus nott was yours and no one else’s.

“alright.” now, it’s your turn to sigh. you put the towel aside, cupping his cheeks, scanning his face for more bruises to patch up. when you were sure that you treated every single one, you let yourself relax, getting a soft chuckle from theodore. “you worried me, theo.”

he mumbled something under his breath, but you couldn’t pinpoint what it was, since he found his face nuzzling in your neck, leaving small kisses in the spots that he knew would make you shiver. he inhaled the sweet scent of your shampoo and perfume. oh, and did it drive him crazy.

he picked you up, your legs wrapped around his hips as he walked the two of you to his bed, merlin help how weak he felt, but carrying you around was something he did every single time you were at his dorm. theo put you down, letting you get comfortable in his sheets (he bought them, just because you said it looked pretty — so now he had floral themed sheets). on the other hand, he was searching for some clothes you always wear, so you wouldn’t suffer in a tight dress.

maybe he never directly said he loved you, but his actions and behaviour towards you was enough to tell you he did.

you’ve changed into clothes he gave you, allowing your… situationship to help you unzip your bra, and you fell down on his bed. it took you a brief moment to realise that you were still in your goddamn makeup. a long sigh escaped from between your lips. theo’s face lit up with confusion, although he understood why you were lazily getting up from his bed.

“you don’t have to go back.” he smirked, looking you up and down, admiring how gorgeous you looked in his shirt, pictures of him ripping it off you started playing in his head. god, the things he’d like to do to you right now. “i hated how you complained about your makeup stuff. bottom drawer is all yours. everything you need.”

and to be honest, you almost cried upon seeing what he prepared for you. any possible kinds of makeup remover (creams, lotions, gels), tissues, pads and tampons, cotton balls, all those products that he noticed you used for your hair and skin-care essentials, he even stocked your favourite shampoo that you told him wasn’t produced anymore. there were even the same exact products you used to put on your makeup, perfect matched foundation shade, all kinds of eyeshadow palettes you liked, lipsticks, chapsticks, lipglosses, even the glitter and gems you used for yule ball once.

“theodore faustus nott, you are so incredibly pussy whipped, i’m shocked it’s possible.” your laughs filled his chamber, when you got back from the bathroom. “at the same time, it’s so attractive that you bought all of that for me.”

“shut up, lestrange.” he rolled his eyes, his hand wrapping around your leg, pulling you onto him. “i would kill for you if you asked.” he mumbled against your skin, leaving a trail of kisses from your jawline down to collarbone.

[simpee9000]

Not Just Friends - 6 -

M.List : Prologue : Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : 5.5k words

Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends? Also not edited!! CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, aggressive flirting from creeps, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any) Applies to all chapters regardless of it is in said chapter.

"Photos have been released, of the two of you," you shared a look with Katsuki from across the table, "Together. At the camping resort you went to this previous weekend."

Katsuki's PR manager was in front of you. Arms placed on the table as she clasped her hands together. Face stern and hair slicked back into a ponytail. The definition of professional. The opposite of what you looked and felt right now. You've been sweating your ass off since you got told to come in.

"Are you sure they know it was us?" Katsuki fixed his posture, sitting up straight for the answer to his question. The two of you haven't necessarily came forward with your relationship, but you haven't been hiding it. Still, you preferred to not be public. Mainly to protect your work, everyone would discredit you if they knew you had personal ties to the number two pro hero that led beyond friendship. But also because you knew the danger, you were targeted enough as his best friend.

"Yes," she said bluntly.

"Maybe they didn't see me?" you voiced your hope aloud.

"Look, they know it was the both of you," she sighed, "We need to focus on how to fix this. It needs to be address before it gets worse, and it will get worse, so I suggest acting now."

"Can I see the fucking pictures?" Katsuki ordered, sick and tired of not knowing entirely what's going on.

She clicked away at her keyboard, turning her laptop to face you two. "This was posted by a couple that were there," she showed the photo Katsuki took with the couple that almost caught you at the pond. "And this," she clicked to a photo that showed the lake, "was posted as well. You can clearly see Chargebolt, Red Riot, and Cellophane. And in the background it is also easy to see the two of you being," she coughed, "intimate. They've been able to connect the dots that it was you that he was kissing," she looked at you, "With your connection with their class."

Your stomach dropped. Words just fell from your brain. You were used to the press but not for these reasons. Mainly just for your work, or how you made all number one, two and three top heros support gear and costumes.

"So what the fuck should we do?" Katsuki crossed his arms, face scrunched in thought.

"We need you to make a statement," she paused, prepared for Katsuki to snap. He hated making statements. When all he did was nod, she continued, "We need to do this quick before rumors catch wind." Both you and her were glad that he wasn't being difficult about this.

"What rumors can even be made?" you were curious how bad the drawback could be, trying to see if you could lessen the stress for you and Katsuki.

She looked at you, an apology on her face already, "It is already being said that you are using him to get to Deku, wanting to get the best pro heroes under you." You physically winced. "It is also being said you are cheating on Deku with Dynamight."

Katsuki scoffed, rooling his his eyes as he threw his hands up, "So what the fuck do I say? This is bullshit."

"I've arranged a interview for tonight, they'll ask about it there and you will give as much truth as you want. Talk about how long you've dated and the bond you two have, you need a united front," She explained, "Deku needs to also make a statement that you have not had any romantic relations," she turned to you.

"Of course, I'll call him now," you stood up from your chair, grabbing your phone. Knowing that he was terrible with emails and likely wouldn't notice anything happened until it was too late for the press. Too focus on crime and other heroic things.

"Good, tell him to do it as soon as possible," she instructed.

You squeezed Katsuki's shoulder on your way out, leaving him to discuss about what to talk about in the interview.

Dialing Izuku's number the second you closed the door, walking towards the stairway so you could walk off the stress as you made your way to Katsuki's office, the next floor up.

He answered when you opened the door to the stairway, "Whatssup?"

"I need a favor," you immediately started with.

"What's wrong," he asked concerned. You could hear the wind blowing through his phone, he was likely jumping his way back his office.

"Could you do an interview tonight or something?" you walked up the stairs while talking to him, letting your body move on autopilot and lead the way to Katsuki's office.

"For what?"

"Katsuki's and my relationship got leaked, picture proof and everything," you confessed, "Now there's rumors that I'm cheating on you or some shit." You ran the hand that wasn't holding the phone through your hair. Before dropping it to open the stairway door, keeping your head down as you walked through the office.

"So I need to clear the air?" he concluded, you could hear him land on a building, taking a break from jumping.

"Yes, please," you sighed, "Just talk about how we're best friends. I don't think you have to do an interview, I think a social post might help, ask your manager."

"Of course, I'm happy to help," he smiled, "How are you and Kacchan doing?"

"I'm a little rattled, I didn't think this would happen," you opened the door to Katsuki's office, briefly waving to his manager. "I don't know how Katsuki is doing, he's still with his PR manager."

Izuku laughed nervously, "He's going to kill me."

"It's not your fault," you reassured, "he knows how crazy the internet is." You stood in front of the window, it was a floor to ceiling window that captured the view of the city perfectly. "Uraraka won't be mad right?" you asked, you've never been close to her but you knew her and Z were together.

"No, she'll understand," Izuku confirmed.

"Good, I would of felt horrible," the weight on your shoulders was slowly lifting.

"Well, I should talk to my manager about what to do," Izuku said his goodbyes before he hung up.

It was only Tuesday and your week was already shit. Barely got through lunch before his manager told you to meet with PR. The city was still buzzing with life, unbothered by how much yours was changing. It felt weird, to know each of the small humans from this distant, had their own life and motivation.

"Hey."

You jumped from your spot near the window, "Asshat," you said clutching your heart.

"How are you doing?" Katsuki stepped into the office, letting the door fall shut as he walked to stand beside you.

"I've been better, you?" you looked at him, his face was still scrunched with thought.

"I'm annoyed," he said plainly, "The one fucking time we kiss in public and it's everywhere."

He crossed his arms, his elbow slightly bumping you from where he stood. You hummed your agreement, "When's your interview?" The both of you were looking out the window, trying to puzzle together how to avoid the drawback.

"Right after work, with fucking Heroes' Gossip," he grumbled.

"I'm sorry," you apologized, knowing how much he hated every part of this.

"Was gonna happen eventually," he sighed, "Is that nerd gonna help?"

You nodded, "Yeah, he might make a social media post or something, I told him to listen to his manager."

"Good," he said plainly, letting the conversation end.

Everything was going to change now, it'd be impossible to go back to normal now. With the grief of your old life already setting in, you rested your head on his shoulder. He'd be the one stable thing, even if it got rocky.

---

You had the interview pulled up on the TV, waiting for Heroes' Gossip to introduce him. They've been teasing a surprise guest the entire show, waiting until the last few minutes to bring him on. You've been dealing with the show for the past 40 minutes with no sign of him. It was nice to watch for once though, but it felt like you were intruding on some of the topics. They brought up Mirko's lovers and then talked about spotting Best Jeanist in and out of the hospital, automatically assuming he had a horrible disease. It made you feel gross to watch.

Wondering into the kitchen you grabbed a glass of wine, wanting something to help make the show a little less painful.

When you sat back down they finally announced for Katsuki to come on. Having him grumpily stomp on set until he sat down near the obnoxious interviewer.

"So, Dynamight," she addressed him head on, "There's been some photo's leaked of you and the tech genius," she announced your name to the world. You took a long sip, trying to shake the unease feeling for being known as someone who was with Dynamight rather than a tech genius. The interviewer displayed the pictures his PR manager showed you earlier on screen, "Is this you and her?"

"Yeah," he answered flatly.

"So you and her were making out at this lake, correct?" She pushed, surprised she got this far already.

"Yeah, what about it?" you could see that he was close to snapping, face furrowed entirely as his arms were crossed.

"Despite the claims of her and pro hero Deku being together?" the interviewer smiled, glad to see she was riling him up.

He rolled her eyes, "As if she'd date him."

"Is she not?"

"No, I've been dating her for three god damn years," he confessed to the public.

The interviewer blinked in surprise, quickly getting back onto the questions, "You're not concerned they are seeing each other behind your back?"

"I've known them both since I was five, they aren't like that," he answered simply.

"That also means that they have known each other that long, you're not worried about their connection?" she pushed for more, irritated that Katsuki wasn't lashing out like normal.

"Lemme prove it to you dumbasses," you cringed at his swearing, it wasn't good press for him to swear during interviews. He was grabbing his phone out of his pocket, quickly pressing buttons before he put the phone on speaker, letting everyone listen to it ring.

"Hey," Izuku's bubbly voice echoed through the mic.

"Are you fucking with my girlfriend?" Katsuki was straight to the point, likely not having warned Izuku of his plan before hand.

"No! Why would i do that?! You know that it is just the press going on right? Anything for a story-" before he could ramble on anymore, Katsuki hung up on him.

"See?"

"Well that doesn't prove much," the interviewer was at a lost for words at this point.

Knowing that Katsuki had a handle on this, you walked back to the kitchen, looking for something to eat. All the premade dinners were eaten already so you'd have to cook something from scratch. The voices from the TV faded from your mind as your rattled through the ingredients to use. Deciding on a fried rice. You pulled out the vegetables and placed them to the side as you set the rice to cook.

Your phone buzz and you answered without a thought, "Sup?"

"You fucking Deku?" you laughed at Katsuki's angry voice coming through your speaker. "Stop laughing dumbass."

"Sorry, I just saw you call him for the same thing. No, I am not. I'll say that on a truth quirk as well," you said absentmindedly cutting up the vegetables.

"Great! We'll have you come in soon to do just that," you heard the interviewer cheer though Katsuki's side of the phone.

Katsuki grumbled, "I'm fucking out of here." You could only assume he left the set, hearing him stomp off. "Hey dumbass," his voice was near the mic, clear he turned the call off speaker as his voice was quieter and less aggressive.

"Yeah?"

"That was stupid, my PR agent is going to scream at you."

"Why?"

"Going under a truth quirk on TV is dangerous, you know so much confidental shit," he explained.

"Oh fuck," you realized how much you could spill if someone asked about too much. You felt as if the genius quirk you had wasn't much help.

"I'll be home soon," he skipped past it, saving the conversation for when he could see you.

"Okay," you nodded despite him not being able to see you, "I'm making some fried rice by the way."

"Thanks, see ya."

"Bye."

You put your phone back down, grabbing the now cooked rice and mixing it with the vegetables in a pan. You looked over the mess of the kitchen. You dirtied an extra pan for eggs last second, knowing Katsuki loved the extra protein. Walking back to the living room, you grabbed the wine glass and filed it some more in the kitchen to drink as you mixed the rice.

The rice was getting to a good mixture, just needing to heat for a little longer, you grabbed the eggs and dumped them in with the rest of the rice and vegetable, setting the pan aside on the stove.

You heard the door knob slightly move, as if Katsuki was having issues with the key. You glanced at the time, he wouldn't be over for another ten or so minutes. Fear gripped at your chest. You moved the finished pan of rice to the corner of the stove, putting the empty pan on the heat.

Before you could think of anything else to do, you heard metal fall to the ground. Turning around quickly you saw the doorknob melting off with the remains of it on the floor.

Looking towards the figure in the doorway you saw a girl, around your age. Maybe a couple years older. She looked insane, it sent a chill up your spine at how similar her glare was to Toga's. Her eyes were a bright red, her hair a darker shade as she wore torn up clothes, burn holes all throughout. As if she just got out of a fight.

"The fuck are you doing?" you forced yourself to question.

"So you're the bitch Katsuki is dating?" she ignored your question.

"How did you get up here?" you knew that the apartment probably wasn't the most secure, but you and Katsuki never had time to move. Still, security was set in place. Blood dotted her outfit as well, the smell of burnt flesh radiating off her.

She ignored you again, stepping closer. "You know, Katsuki's going to love me right? Once your out of the picture."

You couldn't help the slight laugh that slipped from your lips. Maybe Katsuki's cocky energy affected you more than you thought.

Her eyes glowed, "That funny to you?"

She was about arms length away at this point, you reached your arm slowly behind you, grabbing onto the handle of the pan. "Kinda," you shrugged.

"Such a cunt," the girl all but screeched, eyes glowing red. From the damage on the doorknob it was clear she had some sort of heat vision. Before she could burn hole through you, you picked up the pan and swung at her. Burning the side of her face and causing her to stumble. Keeping yourself aware of her eyes, you reeled the pan back and hit her straight on, letting the edge of the pan fall into her eyes.

She quickly started to grab at you, cornering you into the stove, blinded by your hits but still intent on hurting you. Digging her nails into your arm. Scratching as she managed to grab ahold of your hand during her flailing around, forcing it down onto the hot stove and burning you.

Filled with a new rush of adrenalin, you grabbed onto her hair with your free hand, yanking her off your hand and pushing her face into the stove. You felt horrible as she screamed, your and her burnt flesh tainting the air with a foul smell. Ruining the stove top in the process. You scrambled away from her after holding her down for a moment, grabbing the knife you used the the vegetables only 20 minutes ago. Almost slipping due to the wine that was spilt from her flailing around the stove.

You stole a glance at the clock, still five more minutes till Katsuki was home. All you had to do was not die in those five minutes.

The girl was standing back up when you looked back at her. Face half burnt as she held a crazed look in her eyes.

"That knife won't do anything," she pushed, "I've done my research, you hardly have a quirk. Another reason you aren't worthy of him."

You weren't interested in talking to her, you just waiting for her next move. "You know, we could end this here. Just stop fighting and Katsuki will talk to you," you suggested, throwing the offer out to distract her.

"With you in the picture, he won't talk to me," she said frustratedly. Her eyes lighting up again, having recovered from the hit to them.

She aimed for your stomach, you move to the side and crouched, kicking at her locked knees, cringing at the snap of it. The hit on your stomach burned through a lot, the pain causing you to hold a hand on yourself. While you were trained to survive, you couldn't handle it. The blood, the pain, the guilt that already worked its way into your bones. She fell down with a yelp. Pulling you with her, before she could get her other hand on you, you stabbed one hand through a cabinet. You stood up as straight as possible, pressing your slipper covered foot onto her head, forcing her to face the cabinet and away from you. Placing your other foot onto her free hand so she couldn't grab at you.

You wheezed, clutching both hands at your side now, pain getting to you. The girl was crying now, "My face! He won't love me if I look deformed." Her heat vision flickered on and off, burning a hole through the bottom cabinet. Slowly destroying your home with Katsuki.

"Shut up," you hissed, stepping on her hand harder.

The injury was getting to you, it was mostly cauterized but her heat vision burned a good depth into your side.

Katsuki kicked the door fully open, snapping his head to look at you. You most of looked crazy. Wearing his shirt from high school, barely visible shorts, fuzzy Deku themed slippers and standing above a very injured girl while bleeding from the wound of your side.

He stepped towards you, lifting you off the girl and making you sit on the floor next to the door. "Cops were already called by the way," he answered your question before you thought of it. "They'll be up here soon." He walked back to the girl who was panting now, going into shock from the pain, something you think you shared with her. He cuffed her quickly, making her quirk shut off. You couldn't be more thankful that he wore his hero outfit home.

With the girl contained, he walked back to you, "Is it just your side?"

You nodded your head aggressively, in too much pain to form words. He lifted the side of your shirt, wincing before putting it back down. Moving to pick you up and carry you.

"I need to get you to the hospital," he claim.

"What about that girl?" you forced out, sucking in a deep breath after. Eyes getting fuzzy as you looked at him.

"She tired herself out," he confirmed, the girl passed out and you felt like doing the same. Eyes blinking without any of your control.

"Kats?"

"What?"

"It hurts," you were only speaking to stay awake, not wanting to scare him anymore then you knew he was.

"You'll be okay, I promise," his voice waivered as he moved through the hallways, you didn't even know where you were at this point. The background slowly turning into black until you blinked the rest of the image away.

---

Everything was too bright, too loud, too stale when you woke up. You couldn't even open your eyes but you were overwhelmed. You're mouth lacked any taste besides meticalic. Muffled voices came from somewhere in front of you, a room away likely. You braced yourself heavily before opening your eyes. Seeing Katsuki in a chair pulled up to your bedside, book in his left hand as his right hand held onto yours. Flipping a page by placing the book into his lap and using his left to flip it. Never once letting go.

The light blurred everything but him, you could only put together the fact that you were in the hospital. He was wearing his glasses, the ones he hardly wore unless he was stress. It was always harder for him to read when stressed, to lessen the strain, he wore the glasses.

"Bright," is what you decided to croak out, voice rough from sleep and likely screaming from the events. Everything was blurred already.

His basically jumped out of skin at the sound of your voice, letting the book fall from his lap as he stood up straight. Looking over you.

"Lights off," is what you groaned next, unable to keep your eyes open in the blare of it for long.

"Fuck sorry," he rushed to turn the light off before returning to your side. "How are you?"

You only looked around now, happy to be without the strain of the light. Your right hand was covered in bandages, from where the girl slammed it against the stove. With how bad it hurt, you worried for her face. Your left side was also heavily wrapped. She burned entirely through you, you remember how burned your walls were before you passed out. Multiple cabinets having holes in them. "Our home is all messed up," you focused on.

Katsuki let out a laugh, it was his laugh that showed you were being ridiculous, when you looked back up at him with a frown he returned it, "You can't be serious?"

"I am," you pouted, looking down at your hands, "She fucked it all up."

"Yeah and you put a dent in her for it," he followed.

"She put a dent in me too," you changed you focus to your stomach. Acknowledging the hole in your side

He gripped tighter onto the railing at the top of your hospital bed. "I had our stuff moved out," he spoke, saying he won't let that happened again without any words.

"Where will we live?" you looked back up at him.

"I bought it on a whim, the first day you were out," he looked apologetic, "I think you'll like it. Safer than that shithole."

You grabbed onto his hand, "Okay, anywhere is home with you."

"The drugs makin' ya loopy?" he smirk down at you, pointing fun at your cheesy line but holding onto your hand nonetheless, gripping on tighter.

"Maybe," you blushed, looking away for moment to think over the feeling. Drugs were definitely dampening the pain right now.

"How are you though? Took quite a hit," he looked at your stomach as well. It reminded you on how he first saw it, likely seeing straight through you. It's probably why he rushed you to the hospital right after.

"Hurts," you mumbled, not looking down but staring at him instead. Wanting your focus off the pain. Looking over how soft the glasses made him look. It was something you always wanted to admire but rarely got to. His face looked softer in the barely light room, just having the glow of the hallway lights shine in.

"Figures, you put up a fight."

"I almost died," you clarified.

"But you didn't," he was trying to focus on the positives, for both you and himself.

You recalled him saying the first day you were out earlier, "How long was I out?"

"Four days," he answered, "Not too long, you were just tired."

You hummed, "When can we go home?"

"I'd have to call the doctor in."

You nodded in permission for him to do so, letting him go alert them. With the quality of the room, you figured that he had you in a hero hospital.

The doctor walked in and asked you to stay an extra day, claiming a healing quirk will be able to help you before you left tomorrow. You reluctantly agreed, mainly from Katsuki cutting in and agreeing for you. It was obvious he felt guilt. From the way he held himself and the way he spoke.

When the doctor left, the two of you sat in silence. Soaking in each others presences.

"Is she okay?" you asked.

"Who?"

"Crazy bitch," you labeled her as.

He looked at you confused, "Yeah, in jail."

"So I didn't hurt her badly?" you were trying to relive some of the guilt.

"No, you did. Put a hole into her hand and burned her face," he confirmed, "Something you did to protect yourself."

"Then why do I feel bad?"

He sighed, grabbing at your hand again and looking you in your eyes, "Cause you always do, you'll probably feel guilty for a while. But trust me, you gave that bitch what she deserved and I'm so fuckin' glad you did."

"How's the press?" you switched topics. Not even remotely proud of yourself for burning a girl's face.

"Everything's settled, police still need your report though," he told you softly.

"Okay," you took in a deep breath, flinching at the pain going up your side. Ignoring Katsuki eyes looking at you in worry. Trying to patch your guilt away.

---

You peered through the apartment door after Katsuki unlocked it and walked through. Taking in the view of the apartment, a clear upgrade from the last. After kicking off your shoes you noticed the empty space to the right, a perfect spot for a living room. Windows from floor to ceiling and a sliding door to excess the balcony, with just enough space for a long wrap around couch to loop around. Snug in its own cube. The left side was a nicely sized kitchen with a dining table near the middle.

The security on the way up was worth the apartment, it was beautiful. It was a good sized apartment overall, perfect for you. There's a total of three bedrooms and three baths. You wondered for a moment about where Katsuki would choose his bedroom. Shoto also lived in this apartment complex, so you knew it was safe. The thought of Shoto's scar hurt your soul, he hated that scare and you gave a random girl the same if not worse.

"We need to buy new furniture for the living room," Katsuki cut into your thoughts.

"Why?" you turned to him confused, you didn't have a wrap around couch but he didn't know your ideas.

He coughed, knowing you hated the topic already, " Other one is burnt."

"Oh," you said sadly.

"I also can't get shit here until Tuesday. Takes a week for em," he barreled through the bad news, "You can look up a couch and I'll buy it."

"I already know the one I want," you looked back at the space, "I saw it Monday online, we can go check the stores to see if it's in stock? If not we can look."

"I don't think you should be doing all that walkin'," he furrowed his face in distaste.

"Too bad," you pushed past your injury, walking back outside the apartment after slipping your shoes on, "We have nowhere to sleep, we can get a couch and have a movie night. Wait, do we need a new TV?"

"Yeah, other one was shit anyway," he put his shoes on and followed you out reluctantly.

---

You pushed past all press, keeping your head down as you walked in front of Katsuki, his arms around you to keep from touching you. It was horrible, worse than it ever was. After your police statement was in, the press went crazy. Needing every detail possible. The entire furniture store had to shut down while you shopped, it made you thankful for Katsuki's job for once. He saved the owners before so they easily shut down for him. Finding your perfect couch was easy enough, wasn't the exact one you saw online but it was even better. While you found the couch, Katsuki got the TV, both set to be delivered to your apartment during the next three hours.

So you and Katsuki got lunch and stopped by his agency in the mean time, him needing to grab some paper work to go over the next few days. Kirishima's bright smile welcoming you the second you walked upstairs.

"Hey!" he greeted, arms stretched out for you. Hugging you gently. "How are you?" he held you back by your shoulders as he looked over you.

"Alright," you answered watching Katsuki walk into his office, "I hurt like a bitch though."

Kirishima laughed warmly, "No doubt, sorry that happened. What you did was super manly though."

You cringed, "I thought you left the manly thing in high school."

"I say it on rare occasions," he smiled down at you.

"Say what?" Katsuki asked as he closed his office behind him, joining you again.

"Manly," you answered, leaning into his space, feeling safe. He hummed in reply, smiling down at you briefly before looking back at Kirishima, crossing him arms.

"You got my patrols cover till Tuesday right?" Katsuki asked.

"Yeah, Denki, Sero, Mina, me and even Midoriya are all taking a chunk of your hours," Kirishima smiled brightly.

"Till Thursday?" you looked up confused, Katsuki hated time off.

Katsuki refused to look at you. LIstening as Kirishima talked, "You need a break and we got it covered, don't worry."

He rolled his eyes, "Send me every detail that happens, I'll be available if absolutely needed."

"Got it," Kirishima gave a toothy grin. Likely happy that he convince Katsuki to take time off in general. You weren't surprised at him being at the hospital, but taking a week off was unknown for him. Yet he seemed perfectly okay with it.

---

Once home, you noticed the fridge was fully stocked. Katsuki's premade meals filling the shelfs. Glad to see no fried rice. Fruit also filling the shelfs.

It was the first thing you went for when you got home, ignoring the wrapped up couch and TV and going for the food. Afterall, Katsuki would set up the TV fully. Needing to wall mount it.

With a premade meal in your hands, warm and ready to eat, you stood at the counter and watched him work.

"So I remember saying I'd do an interview with a truth quirk," you brought up after a while, Katsuki humming to continue from where we set up the TV. "How do I do that without giving up information?"

"Aizawa is probably willing to help, he'll monitor you and turn off the truth quirk person if they ask something sensitive. Still don't know why you said that," he answered, cursing at the TV when it didn't hook into the slot on the wall mount easily.

"Just want to clear my name," you took another bite of food as you watched him grin in victory at the TV being attached to the wall now. Him plugging it in and starting to log into all the streaming apps and everything.

You joined him after finishing your food, pushing a part of the couch into the spot you wanted. "The fuck are you doin?" he spun his head towards you at the sound of the couch moving. "I'll do it, just fuckin' point where to go."

After huffing at him, you stood in front of the TV, facing the couch and leading him to place each section of the couch. Cutting off the wrapping afterwards and sitting in front of the TV.

"What are we watching?" he called towards you, you were digging through the little amount of stuff that Katsuki pack for you two. It was clothes and blankets, all you'd need until Tuesday. It was already Saturday as well.

You plopped down a big blanket for you to share and sunk into the couch, "I don't know," you mumbled. Watching as he clicked onto your favorite movie right after.

"Hate when you say that," he grumbled.

"Yeah sure," you leaned into his side, wanting to be as close as possible to him. The scare of the break in still getting to you. He messed with his hand for a moment before laying his arm over your shoulders, pushing you closer to him. It was something both of you clearly needed. Just the warmth of the other.

-Next Part-

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[quill-vy]

WHOOPS, FELL IN LOVE!

warnings! use of alcohol, swearing and suggestive comments (ish) (let me know if there’s any more!)

a/n: i wrote this a while back, kind of before i began posting on here… i just wanted to say thank you to anyone who has supported me so far and helping me gain the confidence to post this! i tried to make some tweaks over the last day or so, but it was kind of like 12am so…….. don’t kill me if nothing makes sense ok 💔

the night had started like any other—lando losing at fifa, max talking endless shit, and you curled up on the couch with a cocktail carlos had sworn was "not that strong" (it was, and you were already feeling it). the flat was comfortably messy, the low hum of conversation punctuated by bursts of laughter and the occasional shout of frustration from the tv.

lando groaned dramatically as his virtual player missed yet another wide-open goal, flinging the controller onto the coffee table like it had personally betrayed him.

“honestly, you’re shit at this,” max said, grinning as he leaned forward to grab another slice of pizza from the box sitting between you. he chewed obnoxiously, the smug expression on his face growing with every bite.

“i am not,” lando muttered, collapsing against the cushions like his soul had just left his body. “you’re just cheating.”

you laughed, taking a slow sip of your cocktail before nudging lando’s foot with your own. “how do you even cheat at fifa? are you hacking the game from your brain or something?”

he gave you a look, one that screamed betrayal, and then narrowed his eyes. almost dangerously. you knew that look. that was the look he got when he was about to do something deeply unwise, usually involving a dare, a terrible idea, or both.

“i bet you can’t go a whole month without hooking up with anyone,” lando said suddenly, pointing at max like he’d just cracked the code to world peace.

max nearly choked on his pizza. “easy,” he said through a laugh, brushing crumbs from his shirt. “i could do that in my sleep.”

“bullshit,” lando fired back instantly. “you, max verstappen? the man who flirts with anything that breathes? please. i’d pay good money to watch you try.”

you shook your head, smiling behind your glass. “honestly, i’ll bet you can’t even go a week,” you said, turning the tables. “you’re worse than he is. you can’t go three days without flirting with someone. bare minimum!”

that shut him up.

max cracked up, half-snorting as he leaned over to fist-bump you. “she’s got a point, mate.”

lando’s mouth fell open in exaggerated offense. “i am not that bad.”

you raised your eyebrows. “lando, last week you tried to flirt with a flight attendant and the woman sitting in the exit row. within twenty minutes of each other.”

“that was just being friendly!”

“sure,” max said, still laughing. “real friendly.”

lando crossed his arms over his chest, clearly pretending not to be flustered. “fine. you want proof? let’s make it a challenge.”

“i already made it a challenge,” you said, sitting up straighter. “one week. no flirting, no hookups, nothing. just wholesome, monk-level celibacy.”

lando tilted his head, considering. “and if i make it?”

you paused. “then i’ll…” you tried to think of something suitably embarrassing, something that would annoy you enough to make the bet mean something. before you could speak, lando grinned.

“you’ll be my personal assistant for a race weekend,” he declared triumphantly. “full service. wake-up calls, coffee orders, dealing with media — everything.”

you groaned. “no way. that’s evil.”

“scared?”

his tone was maddeningly smug, and the worst part was that it worked. you felt your heart kick up a little at the challenge, at the way his eyes danced with amusement like he already thought he’d won.

“fine,” you snapped, ignoring the way your skin was suddenly very aware of his proximity. “but if you lose, you have to wear that godawful neon orange suit to the next gala.”

max nearly fell off the couch. “oh, yes. this i need in my life.”

lando wrinkled his nose. “that thing? the one with the rhinestones?”

“and the matching shoes,” you added sweetly.

he hesitated for a moment, weighing his pride against the sheer horror of that suit. then, with a resigned sigh, he stuck out his hand.

“deal.”

you took it, your fingers brushing his as you shook. his skin was warm, his grip firm, and you told yourself not to read into the way he held on for just a beat longer than necessary.

this was fine.

this was totally, absolutely fine.

except it wasn’t. not even a little.

---

you didn’t think lando would actually take the bet seriously.

but then he showed up at your hotel room the next morning, sunglasses perched on his head and a ridiculous grin on his face. "ready to babysit?"

you blinked. "what?"

"the bet," he said, like it was obvious. "if i'm not allowed to flirt, someone's gotta make sure i don't accidentally break the rules." he wiggled his eyebrows. "that's you."

you groaned, dragging a hand down your face. "no way."

"scared i'll win?"

"scared i'll strangle you before the week's over," you muttered, but you grabbed your jacket anyway.

it became a routine after that. lando dragged you everywhere—paddock interviews, sponsor events, even team meetings. you sat through endless debriefs, biting back laughter as he shot you desperate looks every time a journalist or fan got a little too friendly.

"you're enjoying this," he accused after one particularly brutal press session where a reporter had spent the entire time batting her eyelashes at him.

you smirked. "immensely."

lando groaned, slumping against the wall. "this is torture."

"poor baby," you cooed, patting his cheek. "can't handle not being able to charm everyone you meet?"

he caught your wrist before you could pull away, his grip gentle but firm. "maybe i only wanna charm one person," he murmured.

your breath hitched.

then he winked and let you go, strolling off like he hadn't just short-circuited your brain.

asshole.

---

the problem was, the more time you spent together, the harder it got to ignore the things you'd spent years burying.

it started off as something light, something stupid, it was just a bet, a game between friends who should’ve known better. but somewhere between the endless days of lando dragging you around like his emotional support human and the quiet nights in hotel rooms where the only light came from the glow of the tv, something shifted. something you couldn’t name without making it real.

like the way his laugh always came a half-second after yours, as if he was listening for it. the way he started leaning into your space without thinking, shoulder pressed to yours during long meetings, fingers brushing yours during lunch like it was instinct. the way his gaze lingered a little too long, soft around the edges, like you were something fragile he was afraid to break.

he never said anything, not directly. but he didn’t have to.

it was in the way he waited for you after interviews. in the way he stood between you and the occasional overeager fan, not possessive but protective. it was in the way he started bringing you coffee in the mornings, always exactly how you liked it, always with a quiet smile that said he’d been paying attention for a lot longer than you thought.

and you, well, you were screwed.

you tried to act normal. kept telling yourself it was just the bet, just lando being dramatic. but deep down, you knew better. because every time he touched you, even casually, your skin burned. every time he smiled at you across a crowded room, you felt like the only person in the world. and every time he looked at you like that—like you mattered, you had to fight the urge to fall to your knees.

one night, after a long day of travel and too many media obligations, you both collapsed onto his hotel bed without even thinking about it. some terrible movie played in the background, neither of you really watching it. your legs were tangled loosely, your head resting against the pillows as lando scrolled aimlessly on his phone.

you glanced over at him and caught him staring.

“you’re staring,” you said, nudging him lightly with your foot.

he didn’t even pretend to be guilty. just hummed and tossed his phone aside, shifting onto his side so he could face you properly. “can’t help it.”

you tried to play it cool, tried not to let your heart give you away. “why?”

“you’re pretty,” he said, so simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

you rolled your eyes, even though you felt your whole body react—an involuntary tightening in your chest, your fingers twitching like they wanted to reach for him. “you’re losing the bet.”

“don’t care.”

“you literally made a deal—”

“i know what i said,” he cut in, his voice quieter now. he sat up slowly, his eyes locked on yours. “but i don’t wanna flirt with anyone else. just you.”

you sat up too, back resting against the headboard, arms crossed like that could protect you from whatever this was quickly becoming. “what?”

lando exhaled, like he’d been holding his breath for weeks. maybe years. he ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more than usual. “i think i lost the bet the second you made it.”

you shook your head, not trusting your voice. “that doesn’t make sense.”

“doesn’t it?” he asked, leaning in closer, like he was trying to force you to see it. “you really think i haven’t been trying to get your attention for years? why do you think i flirt with everyone else? why do you think i annoy you so much? you’re the only one who’s ever looked at me and seen more than the driver, more than the jokes. you make me feel like… like i’m not faking it all the time.”

you blinked, because he never talked like this. lando was all charm and noise, a hurricane of energy and sarcasm. but this—this was real. raw. and terrifying.

he was still watching you, eyes searching, waiting.

you didn’t know who moved first.

maybe it was him. maybe it was you. maybe it didn’t matter.

because one second there was space between you, and the next there wasn’t. his hand found your cheek, yours fisted in the front of his hoodie, and then you were kissing him.

soft at first. hesitant. like neither of you wanted to admit how long you’d been waiting for this.

but it didn’t stay soft for long.

because once the floodgates opened, everything poured out. all the stolen glances, all the almosts, all the things neither of you had ever said. his hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer. your lips parted under his, breath catching in your throat as the weight of it all hit you at once.

and when you finally broke apart, just enough to breathe, you stayed there—foreheads touching, hearts racing.

“so,” you whispered, lips brushing his. “what now?”

lando smiled, thumb tracing your jaw. “now we stop pretending it was just a bet.”

---

"i lost," lando announced the next morning, voice far too cheerful for someone who’d just admitted defeat. he walked into the hospitality suite like he owned the place, sunglasses pushed up into his curls, grin bright and unapologetic.

max choked mid-sip, spraying coffee across the table. “what?”

lando dropped into the seat next to you, his thigh pressing against yours with casual ease, like he belonged there. like he'd always belonged there. “the bet,” he said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “i lost.”

you didn’t look at him. you couldn’t. not with the way your cheeks were burning and your heart was still somewhere up in your throat from the night before. instead, you focused very intently on stirring your tea, like it held the answers to all your problems.

max’s eyes darted between the two of you. then narrowed. “what did you do?”

“nothing,” you said quickly, a little too quickly.

lando didn’t even try to hide the smugness in his voice. “absolutely nothing.”

“that’s a lie if i’ve ever heard one,” max muttered, leaning back in his chair with a groan. he rubbed a hand over his face, like he was regretting every life choice that had led him to this moment. “jesus. i don’t wanna know. seriously. whatever happened, you can both take it to your graves.”

you kicked lando under the table, partly for being so obvious, partly because you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling like an idiot.

he didn’t flinch. just grabbed your hand where it rested in your lap, lacing his fingers through yours like it was the most natural thing in the world. he gave it a gentle squeeze, and you finally looked at him.

his grin softened a little when your eyes met. less cocky, more sincere. like the truth of it was settling in for both of you. the bet was over. the game had ended. and what was left now—this quiet, aching warmth between you—was real.

max muttered something under his breath about needing stronger coffee and stood up, taking his mug with him.

lando leaned over slightly, voice low. “worth it.”

you rolled your eyes, but your thumb brushed across the back of his hand anyway, slow and deliberate.

yeah. it really, really was.

---

lando showed up to the next gala in the neon orange suit.

not just any orange. it was loud, blinding, highlighter-bright—complete with rhinestone lapels, matching shoes, and a pair of tinted sunglasses he absolutely did not need but wore anyway like he was on the cover of a fashion magazine that catered exclusively to chaos. it was objectively terrible. a crime against fabric. and he looked so smug about it that you almost forgot how bad it really was.

almost.

you burst out laughing the second you saw him. not a polite giggle. not a subtle laugh behind your hand. full, unfiltered, chest-aching laughter. you nearly doubled over, clutching your stomach as he strutted toward you like he was on a runway.

“you didn’t have to—” you started, still laughing, wiping at the corners of your eyes.

“i lost the bet,” lando said simply, with a shrug that was far too casual for someone dressed like a traffic cone. “deal’s a deal.”

you opened your mouth to tease him further, but then he was pulling you in by the waist, his hand warm against the small of your back, the other adjusting the fabric of your dress like he had every right to touch you that way. and maybe now, he did.

“besides,” he murmured, ignoring the flashes of cameras and the curious glances from people around you. “i might’ve lost the bet, but i got you. so i’d say i won.”

your heart did that stupid fluttering thing again, the one it had started doing every time he looked at you like you were something he wanted to hold onto. and you knew he meant it. knew it wasn’t just a line, wasn’t just lando being lando. it was real. and god, you were in trouble.

you rolled your eyes, but you were smiling as you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. it was quick, barely more than a second, but it was enough to make the photographers start snapping faster and lando’s fingers tighten just slightly at your waist.

from somewhere behind you, max groaned loudly.

“finally,” he muttered, walking past with a drink in hand. “took you two long enough. honestly, the sexual tension was becoming a health hazard.”

lando grinned against your temple as you laughed again, the kind of laugh that came from somewhere deep in your chest.

you leaned into him a little more, letting him hold you, letting yourself enjoy it—him, this, all of it.

because somewhere along the way, it had stopped being about bets and dares and pretending not to care.

somewhere along the way, you'd stopped pretending at all.

a/n: what do you think? ❤️

UNFORTUNATELY not an enemies to lovers, but i reckon this is kind of solid, honestly—as compared to my other stuff, of course 😗

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 3 part 1

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

hey hey, it's episode 3 Through Many Miles of Tricks and Trials and we're on the Road, witches!

Agatha knew All Along (that Billy created the Road), evidence number 1 out of 646132.

And see how they added black bars in this episode? They're getting ready to switch aspect ratio like they did in Wandavision

but like, she's not wrong. you see that sharon's not wrong, don't you? she has been kidnapped by witches. again.

agatha's grimace when they say it's all her fault. which a) it totally is and b) she never expects other witches to be supportive of her anyway

oh sharon, you beautiful fish out of water. we all laugh at her, meanwhile she's PANICKING. HARD.

this particular group needs to figure out how to do that first, Billy. but hey, they'll get there. sort of.

Jen, looking directly at agatha: why is this MAGICLESS HELPLESS lady coming with us on a deadly mission, whose sick idea was this? she has no business being here!

Sharon, her voice drowned by everyone else: see that's what I've been trying to tell you~

Agatha deflecting hard, like the coward she is: HEY THIS IS MY GOOD FRIEND MRS HART YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT

a very scared coven looks at agatha for answers, because she's the only one who's ever been on the Road.

agatha, who's never fucking been on the Road and made up the whole thing: I've bullshitted my way into this mess, I'll bullshit my way out of it. live laugh love bitches!

I'm looking at this scene clearly for the first time now that I've brightened it, and wow, the others are worried, but sharon looks so scared, always so scared

billy is having the time of his life, and you'd think agatha would step in at some point and warn him about what he's done. but nah. let's wait and see. as long as she's covering her own ass.

lilia looking at billy's sigil like, damn that's some neat handiwork, wonder who did that. she sounds like a cool witch.

agatha totally insults stuff when she's impressed with it like some cheap anime tsundere

lies.

but see how she puts her whole body between billy and the others? super protective mama

HOW COULD YOU GUYS LOSE HER SO QUICKLY. it's funny and all, but this is exactly how she'll die: they'll forget about her until it's too late.

it's so clever what they're doing with sharon, and it's so clever that they chose debra jo rupp for it, because she's so delightfully funny. I've talked already about how the comedy in the first few episodes is deceptive. sharon is living in a horror movie and you're not supposed to see it quite yet.

you think she's a funny old lady upset about losing her purse. you think maybe she's gonna find out she's magical and join the coven, who knows! so much fun, so many possibilities! you don't think that this is a woman in her 70s who was brutally tortured by a witch only a few years back, you forgot the lesson from wandavision. this evening she was tending her garden and now she's god knows where with a bunch of those very witches she's sure to be terrified of, kidnapped by a neighbor she thought she could trust. think about that, she's not going home, ever. I'll elaborate more at the end of the episode, but this is a show about the inevitability of death. sharon is like nicky, doomed by the narrative, and it'll take you two or three or four rewatches to fully see it and to make your peace with it.

alice tenderheart, alice braveheart jumps to the rescue with no hesitation. she is a protection witch. she protects.

agatha stands in the back and (pretends she) doesn't care, like some asshole.

hey agatha, hey agatha? fuck you. fuck you agatha.

she's pulling all this out of her ass. she might as well be doing fart noises right now

my headcanon is that this is where Billy dreams to retire with Boyf in their golden years. you know he thinks about that sort of stuff

thank you to @friedwizardwhispers for pointing out that agatha is also in awe of the Road and the magic it took to create it. she is! look at her here, she's scared but also excited, she's fundamentally a nerd who's always hungry to learn and discover more about magic and spellcraft. she hates the witch community but she's also obsessed with it

now look at this sequence: agatha demonstrates once again that she knows Billy is behind all of this. only she goes about it with hints and metaphors because - you know - she's a damn fucking coward

sharon has gone through all the stages of grief in twenty minutes: denial (this is a kidnapping!), anger (this came from talbots, you can't have it!) bargain (okay, okay, okay, catching my breath, okay), depression (I don't know how do you expect me to walk and walk and walk when there is nowhere to walk to!) aaand now she's accepted her fate. time to get drunk. and die.

"That would be such a bummer." WOULD IT NOW BILLY. WOULD IT BE SUCH A BUMMER IF SHARON DIED SO SENSELESSLY? WOULD IT SEND AUDIENCES THROUGH ALL FIVE STAGES OF GRIEF TOO IF SHE WAS KILLED LIKE THAT??? IT'S ALMOST AS IF THEY'RE DOING IT ON PURPOSE OR SMTH BILLY

what I'm saying is, the writers are truly basking in some cruel irony right now. especially considering that billy is going to feel so responsible about sharon's death

the others look back at the house, agatha is the only one looking at billy, she's the only one who understands the implications of the exchange between billy and sharon. I imagine her process being something like "this is really going to hurt the kid later -> should I say something? -> should I step in? -> should i...? -> ... ->nah"

so the moon in the sky and the color of the leaves on the Road depend on the trial? is that why they were blue just now? I need to pay more attention to stuff like that

sharon takes a deep breath, sighs, goes into the house last.

sudden aspect ratio change! not my favorite outfits, but I love those pants on kathryn

see you tomorrow peeps ❤️

go to episode 3 part 2

[hestzhyen]

So, About That Drama...

After seeing the Kagurabachi community meltdown play out on Twitter, Discord, and Reddit, I'm pretty sure it's safe to say that the era of peace towards all is over. I'm so glad I put down roots here instead of the other places.

Whatever might have been true when the fandom just started out, the gen spaces are no longer safe for fujoshi/shippers.

Katsu, the biggest artist in the Western fandom -and someone I consider a friend-, was bullied out because of two individuals with personal vendettas and not enough resistance against them. Her final message is here:

https://x.com/Katsutacle_/status/1879888982886224206

I'm not going to write an in-depth essay about everything that happened. It's been less than a month since I got back from the hospital and the last thing I need in my life is stress over online "discourse". I've just been trying to help the main victim behind the scenes and speak up when I'm able. I so sincerely do not want to be involved in this bullshit... I just want my friend to be okay no matter what she decides to do in the future.

I usually don't get involved in fan spaces because I'm tired of trying to exist in places I'm not wanted. I don't expect everyone to enjoy things the same way I do. I just want to talk about them with the handful of other people who see things the same way... but it's so tiresome to be punched down on because I think it would be neat if two fictional guys fell in love.

I wanted to believe that Kagurabachi could be different. I did at the start, which helped me embrace the series wholeheartedly where I would normally hold back. And I don't regret letting this manga take over the precious few working brain cells I have. My only regret is believing the warmth and acceptance would last. As of now, the Kagurabachi fandom is far more interested in keeping a false peace that only benefits the usual suspects instead of making the space truly welcoming to all fans.

I won't stop posting about this manga and I won't write off everyone else- a lot of people sent well-wishes to Katsu and got their accounts banned on Avizie's Discord and subreddit to support her. I'm just putting expectations for the general fandom's behaviour back down to where they should have been all along.

I simply won't be telling people that it's worth joining the community any more or that it's wholesome compared to others. It's just more of the same with a thin veneer of acceptance over the same old tendency to belittle and ostracise. I'm glad I decided to keep to myself for the most part and only toss my thoughts out to the void instead of engaging on a deeper level. I should be sad or upset over this, but... I've been in fan spaces for long enough that it's just normal now. Not once have I ever felt at home in a main anime/manga space even if I didn't ship any characters from the series. Seems like I'll have to keep waiting for a place to belong.

And if anyone tries to cast this as a "ship war" because it involved the two most well-known shippers in the fandom and their "rival" ships, that's not it. That's misconstruing what actually happened to write it off as dumb fandom drama. Trying to cast the bullshit as a moral argument because Hakuri is 17 or because Katsu drew clearly labeled NSFW YuraChihi isn't the point- it's a deflection. Katsu was bullied out because Yuna (YunAris) and Avizie hated her guts despite her giving them every possible chance to act like decent people.

Avizie never liked her after she called him out for trying to get JJK-style leak culture in the fandom, and Yuna... I don't know her, but seeing how she stalked and harassed minors for weeks because they called Chiyuki and her art mid (without tagging her or anyone else!), then kicked off all this drama by pulling in Katsu and simbay who had nothing to do with it... she needs to get a grip on herself and grow up. Both of these individuals are adults, mind you. And both of them cannot stand Katsu for very personal and petty reasons.

So here we are.

It was never about the HakuHiro vs. Chiyuki nonsense, Hakuri's age, or anything else for Yuna and Avizie. All of it was merely an excuse to harass and slander Katsu until she was driven out. And good for them I guess because it worked. I hope they find the healing they obviously need to grow and become better people, but for now, I'm going to further distance myself from the fandom at large and be there for my friend.

Not much else to say really. If you have a choice, be kind.

[taeaura]

More TCM 2003/2006 Analysis because why not

TW: Yapping; Rape/Sa, Groping, Strong language, Gore, TCM-Canon-typical Violence

So I recently found deleted / extended scenes {Part 1 / Part 2 of 2006, 2003} which gave me more inspiration to write again! Analysis time 😈

_____

I first want to talk about the most forgotten member of the Hewitt family: Jedidiah. Poor sweet little Jedidiah, probably the most underrated and least-considered member of the Hewitt ‘clan’. From the clips shown in the video and the movie itself, we can infer that Jedidiah is left alone quite often. He’s also very aware of what goes on both in and outside the walls. Either the family doesn’t try to hide it from him or they’re doing a shit job at it. Even then, it’s kinda hard to hide things from independent children anyway. Jedidiah’s a very empathetic and artistic child who understands the Hewitt family values. I.E; the scene where he helps Erin and Morgan escape. Especially when he goes:

“Don’t hurt her! Please, Grandma!” - 2003, 1:06:48 

He looks so defeated after..poor baby. 

At around 1:12:40 when he’s urgently trying to get Erin and Morgan out of the basement via the tornado shelter exit {I think that’s what the structure is?}

“Go - Go now! Run! Faster, hurry! - Come on, don’t let him get you!”

“Go! I’ll be fine!” - 2003, 1:12:45 - 1:14:05 

And when he tries to bite Thomas’ hand to hold him back?? Poor baby. I’d also like to acknowledge how Thomas didn’t get physical with him , simply just shoved him off his hand and onto the sandbag. In the deleted scenes for 2003, he seems much happier when he gets to show Pepper his drawings; It seems he really needs attention that he isn’t getting at home. Maybe this is similar to how Thomas was raised, though I'm not sure. This is even more apparent when he says “You sure you’re not just saying that?” after Pepper compliments his drawing. He very clearly needs a form of guidance and support; Not only for his development but for his confidence. As I discussed in a previous post, Thomas also really enjoys praise, which he gets mainly from Hoyt. Speaking of Hoyt, there’s two possibilities {that I’ve come up with} for how Jedidiah came to be. 1.) Jedidiah is the product of rape, most likely the child of Hoyt and a victim. 2.) They ‘adopted’ him from a victim or some similar situation. Not much evidence as to his origins, but we can theorize. 

____

Moving on to Hoyt; the ‘head’ of the family. In the extended scenes for The Beginning 2006, we get to see an even more aggressive and short-fused side of Hoyt. He yells more often, he’s more violent, and he’s definitely more ‘hands-on’....yay for us. At around 3:20 in this video, as he’s going to ‘attend’ to Bailey’s injuries, he discreetly gropes her, specifically groping her breast whilst repeating ‘I ain’t gonna hurt you.” Yeah, okay, pal.  And then he LICKS THE GLASS HE JUST PULLED OUT OF HER?? He also really doesn’t like the victims; Like. At all. He’s definitely lustful over Bailey, but he doesn’t like how ‘smart’ she gets at times. I.E; “Is having a dead biker chick ride shotgun proper police procedure, sir?” Now, in this video we get to see the more hostile version of Hoyt. Imagine his regular persona x2. At around 0:45 he pulls Dean’s head up by his hair and starts yelling is his face;

“You fucking idiot! I just told you we had to eat! Ain’t you listening to me?” 

This tells us two things: One, Hoyt really doesn’t like when his authority is challenged via questions, lack of interest, or defiance. Two, he really doesn’t like talking about his time in the war. It’s a traumatic near-death experience which is definitely a soft spot for him. I doubt having to dwell on it, much less repeat it over and over again to someone he already hates is easy. Following that tangent, he quickly switches to his condescending ‘I’m just trying to help’ bullshit. Specifically at 1:09;

“Now what happens if you kids drive all the way up to Austin just to find out that you don’t even qualify to be in the Army? I’m concerned about your physical fitness here.”

I’ve also noticed that Hoyt gets real up-close n’ personal when he’s being condescending. Connect this with the moment he ties up and chokes Bailey; We can see Hoyt really likes showing not only his mental dominance, but his physical as well. Now, Hoyt is 6 feet, that’s tall. Compared to Thomas? That’s 5 inches shorter, and at maybe half or ⅗ of the weight. {I headcanon Thomas at around 330/320.} Hoyt sure as hell feels intimidated by Thomas physically. Mentally? Nah, probably not. He knows he could manipulate Thomas one way or another. 

Now; I’d like to focus on how Hoyt treats the family. He rarely if ever gets fussy with them to the extent of the victims. In the 2006 deleted scenes, at around 5:54 - 6:20, Hoyt never yells at Luda Mae and corrects himself when she scolds him. As she raises her voice, he gets fed up but never yells, only says;

“God damnit, Momma, let me handle this.”

He’s stressed, she’s most definitely stressed, and he feels the need to control everything to manage it. His speech at 2:01 of the 2006 extended scenes part 1 is very loving coming from him. He’s trying to reassure his family that everything will be fine whilst also shit-talking the ‘enemy;’ Further isolating them from civilization which they’ve only known to be a negative. He also calmly tries coaxing / ordering Thomas in for supper as opposed to yelling at him. He definitely switches between Hoyt and Charlie around his family; Even though he keeps Hoyt as the ‘default’ to remain in power {which is his source of comfort}, he lets Charlie slip through when it’s needed. 

____

Now for everyone’s favorite big boy; Thomas <3. The extended scene in part 2 {0:00 - 0:30} when Bailey see’s him and just starts screaming {rightfully so, she’s terrified}. Thomas is just standing there, fidgeting with his hands like 🤨/😐 - I know bro was reliving some school / work trauma. Seeing him fidget and doing what’s called ‘T-rex arms’ makes me think he’s neurodivergent. Obviously that’s not the only thing, I’ve been thinking he’s autistic specifically for a while now {Me pushing my autism onto a character} but it fits, no? {Maybe I'll do a post talking about his neurodivergence, idk} And he looks so overwhelmed during the dinner / Hoyt’s speech scene {In the extended scenes part 1.} OH! And ESPECIALLY when Hoyt brings him down to the basement at 37:40 in The Beginning 2006. He looks so overwhelmed and possibly terrified? When you brighten the scene, his expression is much easier to see {I’ll put a picture / gif below}. I think it’s safe to assume Thomas was a bit reluctant to continue as Hoyt had to coax him;

“Come on, Tommy, ain’t no different than the slaughterhouse. Meat’s meat; Bone’s bone. Get it done.”

I think Thomas really only got comfortable with the new lifestyle after he used it as an artistic outlet. Especially when he got to ‘experiment’ on Eric. I’ve seen multiple people use this scene as a means to say Thomas is gay. And listen, I don’t necessarily disagree, I don’t think he’s completely straight either {Reminder, any character that’s sexuality isn’t confirmed means that labeling them as ‘straight’ is a headcanon too!} I just think there’s more to work with here. I myself have struggles with my sexuality, specifically with how I view women. I’m not trying to push this onto Tommy, I just see potential similarities. I think Thomas was definitely envious of Eric, therefore, taking his face and ‘becoming’ something similar to him was a way to hide himself and present in a more ‘attractive way.’ I think he’s attracted to men, but his attraction is either masked or based on the idea of being like them. Eric has a life with such intense purpose. An army veteran {returning as well} with a partner, good family dynamic, and a friend group? ONTOP of being attractive and fit? Oh, hun, you know Thomas was yearning right there. He just wants to be good enough. I mean, really really, good enough. I don’t know why, but my brain automatically went to ‘he wants to become and consume Eric.’ As in, he’s attracted to the idea of being {like} Eric; As well as being attracted to Eric. I don’t know how to communicate this properly so I hope you get what I’m putting down.

___

Again, apologies for my long incoherent rants; I have so many ideas that I want to share

Much love, 🫀

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

How about reader, who is a seasoned gamer, invites Gaz to play something like Valorant or Fortnite etc. She says "dw it took me a while to get good too" but he picks it up stupid quick. He spends the rest of the time enjoying winding her up more than the actual game.

absolutely absolutely. gaz can and should get away with everything.

1,833 words / lucky number 13

...

"Gaz... you know most people play video games to escape their responsibilities."

"So you've told me." Gaz's voice crackles over your headset.

You're staring at your screen, watching as he confirms his character selection in the game's lobby. "You're absolutely sure you want to play tank?" you ask him.

He locks in his character, and it appears in the pregame lobby: a bald-headed, square-jawed guy with a muscular build and heavy armor.

"Positive. You're playing healer, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

"Then I'm playing tank. Pocket me."

"You've never even played this game. We'll both get obliterated."

"Come on. How hard can it be? Shoot, use ability, reset. I take the damage; you heal me; I dish it back out; we win; you thank me for carrying you as always. It's just like our usual game."

"Repeat that last one. I think your mic cut out on account of the bullshit."

"You don't think I can keep the heat off you?"

"I don't need you to keep the heat off me. I just want you to have fun and not die in the first five seconds of the round," you tell him. He did buy this game specifically to play it with you. After a totally reasonable amount of prodding on your part. It's been your go-to for weeks.

"Then pocket me and I won't die. I'm not having fun if I'm not in the thick of it. You know me."

"Fine. For one game."

"Bet," Gaz says, sounding smug about it. "I'm not gonna disappoint."

During that first game, he's getting his bearings. But he takes to it rather intuitively, especially with your help over voice chat. His tactical skills are whip-sharp as always. As you pocket him, you focus your character's abilities on keeping Gaz alive. But you switch to upping his damage output when you realize he's holding down a choke point by himself, taking on enemies and laying out a field of fire for your team. It's impressive, considering this is his first time playing the game.

When an enemy sneaks up on you, his pocket healer, he disposes of them with slightly more prejudice.

"You're pretty good at this," you tell him, scanning the results screen. "I mean, maybe mid-tier if you were on your own."

"Mid-tier?" he says, a little affronted. "It's called being adaptable. Not that you'd know. Hundreds of hours in this game and you're mid-tier support at best."

You cross your arms, leaning back in your computer chair. "Because I don't play support. You know what? I'm switching to DPS. See what you carry without me patching your ass up every ten seconds."

Back in the lobby, you select your main. Gaz eyes the character with a bit of respect. "A rogue, huh? You must think you're pretty good. Gonna need a lot more healing."

"Only if I get hit."

"I could sponge that damage right up for you. Keep you nice and safe."

You scoff. "Won't need it."

"Let's see."

In the next round, you weave in and out of combat, gleefully dodging attacks and landing devastating blows before you disappear. Your bread and butter. Meanwhile, Gaz does--at worst--an admirable job tanking. Still, when you look back and see enemies surrounding him, it's clear he could use an assist.

You double back and flank two of the enemies on him, picking them both off one by one. But before you can gloat, his voice in your headset interrupts you.

"Good kills, baby."

That's not the reaction you wanted. It immediately ticks you off. "I know."

He chuckles and takes down another enemy. He's tunneling in on the fight now that you've got him back on his feet, but clearly he still has time to talk to you. "Can't take a compliment."

The face that he's purposely pushing your buttons just irritates you more.

The next few games, he makes himself indispensable as a tank. It should be a good thing, but he keeps getting in your way specifically. You'd swear it's on purpose. He tanks hits for you and then acts like you'd lose the game without him. His cockiness is insufferable. Worse--you can't ignore how deftly he's scaling the difficulty curve here. He's holding the attention of the enemy players, keeping them away from you while you deal the damage. And you'd never admit it, but the way he's holding aggro is saving your ass.

You shouldn't need him to do that, though. You tell yourself the only reason you're not playing better is because he's forcing you to maneuver around him.

Then he offs the enemy rogue right as you're finishing her off. You swear into the mic. "Gaz, come on! You stole my kill."

"I'm giving my little rogue the help she needs. Besides, you know it's not about getting the most kills. It's about the team's collective score," he teases, and you have to remind yourself it's just a game.

It's like he can tell exactly what to do to piss you off in record time after that. Bossing you around, telling you to take this point or make that kill. He even pipes up once to remind you it'd be a good time to use your ult. You open your mouth to tell him it's not ready yet, but to your chagrin, you glance down and realize it is. Somehow he's keeping track? Unreal.

You're a little impressed about that one, but you'd never tell him. In your defense, he's distracting you with all this banter and teasing. He's making it hard to focus.

"No backseat gaming," you tell him.

"Wouldn't have to backseat game if you played better."

"I would be playing better if you weren't crowding me!" You sigh out your nose. "You're only doing this to get a rise out of me. Micromanaging me. I swear you get off on it."

"You're giving me too many opportunities to obsess over you." He sounds smirky.

The way he says it makes something in your lower stomach flip. You lose focus for half a second--long enough for the enemy rogue to slip past Gaz and smack you.

Gaz slams into her with his shield to stun her, then spins around and uses his special to deal more damage. That last hit downs her. You don't even have a chance to react.

His voice in your headset is smug still. "Like I said."

"Fine. Thanks."

"You can thank me by not dying again."

After the game, you sit back in your chair, arms crossed. "You sure talk a lot of shit."

"Am I?" You hear him grinning. "I hoped you'd give me a little more attitude than that."

"Oh, I know. You're not subtle."

"Neither are you. You get riled up so easy."

"You want me to fight you? Because it sounds like you'd rather me just roll over and bite the damn curb."

"No, you want that. You're a masochist."

"Thank you."

"It isn't a compliment."

"I know. Keep bullying me," you snark into your mic.

It's hard to resist teasing you when you say stuff like that. "Okay," he says, his tone turning playful. He leans back, crosses his legs, and situates himself in his chair. The game's results screen idles on his monitor, forgotten. "You've gotta stop making it so easy for me, though."

"I get that a lot."

"I'm sure you do, sweetheart."

"Ooh, are we doing condescension now?"

"I've been condescending to you since minute one. I can turn it up if it's not obvious enough."

"Keep going and I'll get off."

"Off voice chat, you mean?"

You smirk. "No."

He smiles, rolling his shoulders back. "I can absolutely be more condescending to you if that's what your incompetent little heart desires."

You laugh. "You were just waiting to bring that one out, weren't you?"

"I've got several of them tucked away just in case you got mouthy, But let's be honest--you're always mouthy."

"You're one to talk. You talked hella trash that last match."

"Only because I had to pull your ass out of the line of fire all the time. If you were better, I wouldn't have to. You're giving me ammunition, here."

"I just think it's telling that you play tank."

"Are you saying I'm compensating for something?"

"You said it. Not me."

He rolls his eyes, smirking. "You want to talk about projecting? You're the masochist, and you play a rogue? The one class known for being fragile? You're putting a target on your own back. What does that say about you?"

"Better than a tank main," you quip.

"I'm taking all the hits so you can DPS your way to getting play of the game. Makes me sound proper generous."

You examine your nails. "Makes you sound like a control freak."

"Why don't you look me in the eye and say that? Turn on your cam."

Your grin widens. "Gaz, please. If I turned my webcam on every time some guy online asked me to, I'd never have time to play."

He leans forward, lowering his voice. "Who says I'm kidding? Come on, baby. Give me eye contact. Look me in the eye and tell me I'm a control freak."

"Nope." You know he hates that you're not budging.

"Why? Aren't you decent?"

"More like I have Cheeto dust all over my hands."

"Doubt that."

"It's true."

"Come on. Prove it."

"See? Control freak."

"Fine, I'm a control freak--withyou. But you like it, don't you?"

"Oh, I love when you order me around. I love knowing exactly what you want me to do so I can avoid doing it forever."

He sits back in his chair and stares through his screen. It's not like he's never seen your face before. You've posted a selfie or two in shared chats. But he's never seen you cozied up in your pajamas. Or in a cute little robe. Or maybe a big t-shirt, the soft kind. Like he wears.

Yeah, he's realizing he's down bad. Worse than he thought.

"You wanna make the next round more interesting, then?" he asks.

You arch a brow, propping your sock-covered feet up on your desk. "Like how?"

"You lose, you turn on your camera, obviously."

You snicker. "I don't know what you think I get up to on a Friday night, but you're gonna be sorely disappointed." You pop another Cheeto in your mouth, knowing he'll hear it crunch.

Gaz laces his fingers behind his head. "I've already curbed my expectations. Bet you're sitting around in sweats and a hoodie with some anime character on it." Not that the thought of that isn't appealing. He suspects you don't let many people see you that way.

"You're... uh..." You look down at what you're wearing. "Not far off, actually."

"I know, baby. I've seen your Discord handle."

"So what if I win?"

"Then I won't tell anyone how hard you got stomped these last few rounds. And trust me, I'd be telling everyone. It's embarrassing how much of a load you were. Don't take that the wrong way, though--by all means, just sit there looking cute while I carry this next game."

"Oh, you're on."

Gaz grins, leaning forward. "Yeah, we'll see how cocky you are when I put you back in your place."

You pull your chair back up to your desk, hands poised over your mouse and keyboard. "Promises, promises."

Gaz readies up, too. "Don't worry, baby. I'll keep my word. But once I humble you, you're gonna regret ever doubting me."

...

more Gaz / masterlist tag

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for disapproving of my best friend's relationship? (CW for grooming)

Context: about a year ago I (17, transmasc) joined a local group for queer teenagers to hang out and do stuff together (we meet once a week at the library). The group consists of roughly 10 people and I usually get along with all of them, but my closest friend in the group is W (20, transfem). I would say she's my best friend in general, and I think she'd say the same for me. I'm still in high school and W goes to the community college here.

A few weeks ago, myself, W, and another friend from the group, J (18, cis guy) were over at my place. After a while W said she had some news for us - she'd gotten into a relationship! W used to be (and still is) very socially isolated. She didn't have any friends to speak of before joining the group, not even online, so for her to find a romantic partner was super exciting and I was honestly really proud of her. I obviously wanted to hear more about it, so I asked her to elaborate and this is where things go off the rails.

She said that her new girlfriend (let's call her L) was also trans, and that she was 27. She said they'd met in college and started spending more and more time together. She told us she'd honestly just expected to be friends, but over the winter break L officially asked her out, she was elated, and since then they'd been spending basically all their free time together. immediately alarm bells started ringing in my head - I asked her if I'd heard it right, that L is 27, and W responded yeah, and she knows it's a little strange, but she doesn't mind, so whatever.

I tried to calmly tell her that a 7 year age gap is way too much and that it's not a safe relationship to be in. She immediately got defensive, saying she's an adult and she can do what she wants, etc etc. I said I don't care if she's technically an adult, that's still fucking creepy! I asked J, who had been keeping quiet the whole time, to back me up, but all he did was give me that "I don't know, it's not my place to say anything" bullshit. I was genuinely shocked, I thought he would have supported me but he just… waffled. We had all gotten pretty heated, and at this point W had stood up and started shuffling over to the door. She started in saying I was overreacting over nothing, that they'd been together for not even two weeks, and she didn't need my permission to have this relationship. She said she thought she could trust me, she only told me because she thought I'd be happy for her, on and on, and then she walked out.

It's been a few weeks since then, and she hasn't shown up to the group at the library. I've been too scared to text her because she's clearly pissed off at me. I recognize that I wasn't very good at keeping my composure, and I definitely could have been kinder about it, but I was just scared for my friend. It would be worrying if anyone had gotten into a relationship with that much of an age gap - but she has essentially 0 social skills, and hasn't been in a relationship before, so I'm terrified that she's being taken advantage of because of her inexperience.

What are these acronyms?

[mariacallous]

I plan on voting for Biden in November.  But it’s terrible.  A vote for him is still a vote that will not significantly improve our deepest and most troubling social problems.  He won’t give us Medicare for All or any other badly needed boosts to social programs.  He will probably continue to support policies that actively oppress BIPOC.  He will not help us.  He’s also a sexual predator.  Truly, I do not want to vote for this man.  This is not the man I wanted to vote for.  I don’t want him in office.  He is simply not good enough.  This man doesn’t represent what I want at all.

But if I don’t vote for Biden in November, I feel like I’m making it that much easier for Trump to win another election.  And I want that even less than I want a Biden presidency.  I don’t want another 4 years of what we have now.  No fucking way.  No.

I’m so conflicted.  I feel like there is blood on my hands.  I feel like I’m casting a vote for death and misery if I’m not voting for a progressive candidate with a progressive platform.  I feel like I’m committing nothing short of an atrocity no matter what I choose to do.  I don’t want to harm people, and yet, won’t I essentially be doing exactly that?  I just want to do the right thing.  I don’t want to bring harm, or perpetuate harm towards anyone.

Trump will probably win anyway.  He’s doing all he can to ensure that, and it will probably work.  The impending climate disaster will kill us all because we will clearly continue to do nothing.  Our bodies will be riddled with micro and nanoplastics.  America will become an even more of an inhospitable police state.

 Nobody will hold Biden accountable for anything if he wins, and he’ll never give us the public policies we desperately need. 

“Is this what hope feels like?  I’d forgotten,” you tweeted recently.  How?  And for what?  I see nothing but bad things to come.  I feel a deep sense of hopelessness and despair.

There are plenty of reasons to feel hopelessness and despair right now, but with regard to Joe Biden, you are wasting a whole bunch of negative emotions on a giant pile of shitty beliefs that just aren’t true.

First, and let me be very clear on this one, Joe Biden is not a sexual predator. He’s just not. Believe me, I would be shouting it from the rooftops if I thought he were. When Tara Reade went public, I took her allegations very seriously. I gave her extra helpings of the benefit of the doubt, but it turned out there was a mountain of evidence suggesting that Reade has always been a lying, manipulative grifter (which I didn’t want to be true), and there was another mountain of evidence suggesting that the predatory behavior alleged by Reade is simply not in Biden’s character (which I was very reluctant to trust). There was a time when I was hopeful that Reade’s accusations might even knock Biden out of the race, but I’m not the kind of person who believes a thing merely because I want it to be true. It’s fine if you want to criticize Biden for what appears to be a history of awkward or retrospectively inappropriate behavior. Hell, you can even buy into all that “Creepy Uncle Joe” bullshit, but you’re just plain wrong if you insist that Joe Biden is a sexual predator. (Obviously, the same cannot be said of Donald Trump, who is a straight-up serial rapist with a list of at least twenty-five women who have publicly and credibly accused him of sexual assault.)

As for your policy concerns, I understand your frustration. I would love to be voting for a far-left ultra-progressive firebrand of a candidate in the upcoming general election. That would feel wonderful, right up until the moment that she loses in a landslide, and I guarantee you, a far-left ultra-progressive candidate would get her ass handed to her by Trump. That’s not an outcome we can afford as a species, much less as a nation. You understand this, which is why you still plan on voting for Biden. Good. I’m really glad you’re not being a purist asshole about this. The evil garbage monsters in the GOP just love a left-wing purist who refuses to vote responsibly. Republicans are desperately praying to their imaginary white Jesus that all the Green Party crunch bars will fuck it up for the rest of us like they did back in 2016. We cannot let that happen again.

Listen, I’m not gonna try and convince you to like Joe Biden. You’re already gonna vote for him, so I’m perfectly fine if you hate his breathing guts. What I do want from you is a little maturity, some vision, and a realistic sense of scale. No one candidate will ever be the solution to our problems — not Bernie, not Liz, and certainly not Joe. At best, a candidate is a vector, a course correction, a desperately needed step in the right direction. That’s all we can expect from Biden, and he is bringing it. He’s bringing it every single day with a list of policy positions that are more progressive than any President’s in the history of the United States, and he most certainly brought it with the selection of Kamala Harris as his running mate.

Biden recognizes his place in history. He knows he is little more than a national stop-gap, a post-Trump tourniquet to stanch the bleeding. His Vice-Presidency and eventual Presidency will be a line of demarcation between two very distinct chapters of American history. This is more than just bridging the Boomer/Millennial generational divide. In the distant future (if we have one), it is my sincerest hope that Biden will be remembered as “The Last of the Old White Men,” a happy warrior who marked the end of a certain kind of Modern America and who helped usher in a new kind of Postmodern America. Those terms are clunky and loaded and absolutely will not stand the test of time, but we’re not the ones who get to name what we’re about to become. We’re the ones who have to keep doing the hard work to finally get us there, and that’s why I really need you to change your whole fucking attitude. 

This shit is going to be grueling. The fight will be brutal if not bloody, and there is absolutely no room for whiners and layabouts. You want to improve our deepest and most troubling social problems? Great. Quit moaning about doing harm with your vote and go do some actual good with your own two fucking hands. Pulling a lever in a voting booth every couple years is the bare minimum. In terms of civic duty, it is the absolute least you can do. Of course Biden won’t give us Medicare for All. Neither would Sanders or Warren. That’s not how any of this works. Presidents don’t give us shit. We do it ourselves. We demand it, loudly and with force, and over long stretches of time, with enough solidarity and sustained action, laws are enacted and policies change. 

I was around when the Clintons tried deadlifting their universal health care plan off the ground back in 1993. Maybe you remember it, maybe you weren’t even born yet, but that’s how long this shit takes. It’ll have been three fucking decades and two fucking generations of Democrats trying desperately to kick that gutbucket up Capitol Hill by the time we finally get around to some semblance of a single payer healthcare system. Thirty fucking years, my friend. That’s the kind of patience and perseverance the American experiment demands of us, so quit your fucking whining. Enough with all the pearl-clutching and hand-wringing. Take all your conflicted navel gazing bullshit and toughen the fuck up, buttercup.

You are on the right side of history. You are with the good guys. Quit your fucking bitching, and get out there and help us win.

[frogsinflannel]

Would you do kiss 13, discreetly, for bucktommy? Please 😘

Hello, thank you so much for the ask! I haven't been able to write much lately, so this fought with me but I managed. Canon-compliant, post-8x16. I'm not sure I'll be able to deal with the grief of that in a meaningful way, but I managed not to minimize it here even if it's not in full focus. 💚💚💚

~

It’s… good to see his parents, Buck thinks. It’s fine. They haven’t been back to LA since Maddie’s wedding, and they’d missed the birth because Margaret had the flu. She’s long since recovered, and feeling wonderful now she assures them. They’re planning to come out as soon as they can.  They can’t wait to see the baby (he’s beautiful, Maddie, you and Howard must be so proud!) and Maddie (you’ve got that new mother glow, sweetheart) and Jee (what a good big sister you’ll be!) and Buck (you look exhausted, Evan, are you getting enough sleep), one big happy family all together again.  It’s going to be a long visit, too, hopefully.  And in the meantime, isn’t the video call nice?

Sure.  Buck tries to smile.  It’s good to see his parents.  It’s nice.  It’s fine.

All the attention is on the baby, bouncing on Chimney’s knee.  He’s been fussy lately, fighting sleep, and it shows on both Chim and Maddie’s faces.  Buck’s been keeping Jee more lately when he’s available, trying to help out where he can.  None of them have really reached an equilibrium yet but at least the new baby was something to celebrate.  It helped.  It was a reminder that life goes on, that there would always be things worth living for.

Because that’s what they’ve had to do, isn’t it.  Just keep on living.  

Buck takes in a deep breath.  Holds it.  Lets it out long and slow.

“Hey.”  Tommy leans closer, putting a hand on his shoulder.  There wasn’t room on the couch for all of them, and instead of playing on the floor with Jee–though Jee had assured him that if he could pilot a helicopter, he could probably manage a barbie–he’d stood behind them.  Offering the strong, silent support that Buck has been leaning on for months.  Tommy’s voice is soft and everyone else’s eyes are still on the baby.  “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Buck says, under his breath.  It’s a reflex even though he knows Tommy won’t believe him because he is, fairly obviously, lying.  But he reaches up and squeezes Tommy’s hand anyway.  “Don’t worry about me.”

“Hmm.”  Yeah, Tommy clearly knows it’s bullshit, but he doesn’t call him on it.  Instead, he leans closer.  He presses a kiss to Buck’s neck, right underneath his ear.  If anyone glanced their way, it would probably look like Tommy had leaned in to whisper something.  But Tommy doesn’t say anything else, just lets his mouth linger on Buck’s skin, soft and tender.  Buck has to squeeze his eyes shut, just for a moment, fighting back a rush of feeling from the comfort of Tommy’s kiss.  He’s glad, for once, that his parents aren’t looking at him.  It’s tempting to turn his head, to find the warm, wet shape of Tommy’s lips.  To kiss him deeply, without reservation.  To feel something good.  But he doesn’t.  He keeps the moment discreet instead, lets himself take the offered support.  Lets it bolster him.  “If you need to leave say the word,” Tommy tells him.  “I’ll make an excuse.”

“I’m–I’ll be okay.”  He squeezes Tommy’s hand again and then lets his own fall in his lap.  It’s just one conversation.  He can get through it.  He should be grateful this is a dad he still has.  He nods, turns his eyes back to the laptop screen.  Maddie and Chim have a beautiful new son.  Jee is healthy and happy.  His parents are here; his parents are trying.  The hole in his chest will one day fill up, or maybe his heart will keep growing around it.  

One day, he thinks.  Yeah.  I’ll be okay.

~

send me ships and kiss prompts

[windienine]

the best game of 2024 was an hour-long visual novel demo, and i can't tell you how it ends

attack and dethrone god.

okay. oh my god. soul of sovereignty by ggdg (of lady of the shard & deltarune fame) is discounted for only a few more days, so i need to get this one out while the iron's hot.

so: i'm inviting you along on another journey. we're following a polite gentleman of the wizardly inclination (loïc) who is approached by a sickly woman in dire need (ysmé). all she requests, in her plea, is an escort to guide her to the nearby temple. his decision to support her may turn out to be the most important choice he ever makes.

... have you ever enjoyed the kind of narrative that traps two people with heavily contrasting motives and personalities together in an unbreakable contract? do you like stories of absolute devotion?

i could look at this shot forever ngl

... are you compelled by immersive speculative fantasy worlds where the use and study of magic heavily influences the rhythm of people's day-to-day lives?

(really intriguing magical linguistics system going on here)

... do you ever promise too much of yourself to others, sometimes, even when it's a bad idea?

... if it was possible -- if you could -- would you abandon your humanity for the power to change your world forever?

and, whatever you may feel in your heart about the above...

do you want to see behind the eyes of a hot trans girl as she bullshits her way into a truly volatile level of power and influence and gets everything she wants?

(+ her pet dilf lovely assistant)

if even one of these elicited a "yes," i think you'll love this story.

i'll go out of a limb:

i think, if you open up your heart, you'll find yourself falling for both of the leads. It's a game that really wants you to look at it from every angle, take it apart, and ask questions about loïc, ysmé, their stories, and what they believe to be true about the world and one another. subtext -- especially the charged subtext this story throws at you and hopes you'll piece together -- is a beautiful thing.

the number of talksprites in this demo is kind of staggering

the jrpg-inspired world of the mosaic and its surroundings is as vibrant as it is profoundly lonely, color folded into every facet of its character as you move through it. appropriately, it's really invested in a lot of questions that arise not just from high fantasy as a genre, but from the modern fantasy sensibilities of jrpgs and the interrogation of what divinity even means in a world where the gods are forces you can interact with and draw power from, however indirectly.

what can i even say? that gg and toby fox's collab score for the prelude is downright heavenly and made it onto my work playlist right alongside the deltarune ost the day it came out on bandcamp? that gg's art, especially their use of light, conveys every scene with vivid beauty?

i wouldn't be posting so much of it if i didn't want to eat every CG. oh my god. he's so pretty. it's not even fair

beyond all of that, i think the game's main resonance point with people is that gg's writing is genuinely thoughtful. they use art detail and deft character writing to convey everything about the leads, using the limited time you get with it to paint layers and layers of information on who these people are and why they make the decisions they do. soulsov's roughly an-hour-and-change of text, expressive talksprites, and lush CGs is infused with so much heart and so much horror and so much intrigue that it leaves you feeling like you're a part of this world, carried along for the ride right alongside the two leads. gg clearly really adores these two, and that level of passion makes everything loïc and ysmé do shine even brighter. in spite of (or perhaps because of) all their friction and flaws, they're easy to love.

(it's really fun to read aloud as a script, too! ysmé's a hoot.)

i hope you experience it with high expectations and an open heart. i don't think it will disappoint. it is, perhaps, just a little bit magical.

i hope you see it through to the end!

[stromuprisahat]

Sorry, I thought I sent it to you . I accidentally sent it to another page instead. 😅

so Just before you read these texts, know that I'm not anti-Darklina. I was just randomly scrolling through Tumblr and saw these, and they had reacted to your messages. So I thought I’d send them to you :)

the darkling had a lot of repetitive phrases he used when he was manipulating people. this has been said before, but he says “you and i are going to change the world.” a LOT. like bro please get a new line we’re all tired of your bullshit he also uses the argument of grisha aging against people. he points out to alina that she’ll outlive mal, and points out to nikolai that zoya will outlive him. in both of these situations, he wanted the couples separated. he kept scaring them by making them think of losing each other. and idk i think that’s interesting. But seriously, the two interacted a tiny bit in the first book (and that ended with him stealing her power and taking ownership of her), barely at all in the second, (and even that was just a whole lot of the Darkling being a creep and stalking on her, giving her mental trauma) and a tiny bit more in the third. (In which the Darkling killed several of her loved ones, destroyed her childhood home, and in turn, Alina killed him)

So if u saw it in another channel just say your opinion, but if u don't ill be happy if you read it :)))

First of all- I've already mentioned it, probably more than once- the "You and I..." is clearly a retcon. The fact it's "revealed" in KoS2 makes it painfully obvious. At that point LB was in her "renouncing the Darkling" stage, her readership got younger and more radically set against TRULY morally grey characters, so Darkles' non-hater could detect clear whiff of anti-him sentiments. The duology earned the title of spitebook by how clearly it's supposed to vilify the Darkling (and Darklina).

In-universe explanation is rather simple (credit to late yototo for pointing it out somewhere, but I couldn't find the thread)- Zoya LOVES to believe she's daddy's super ✨special✨ girl, but why would the Darkling bother focusing on her, of all people, when she was nothing more than an ordinary- albeit promising- Squaller? Even Alina- his alleged victim no. 1- openly admits he's hardly in Little Palace, he's constantly on the move, so when would he do more that a few words here and there?

Which leads us to the gigantic plot hole of viability of such "manipulation". The Darkling did nothing to isolate his "victims". They were free to talk, and don't tell me someone as competitive as Zoya wouldn't boast about her grand future. The same person, who's lying about her importance, when she's just crossing the Fold.

Alina probably mentioned what the Darkling told her and Zoya chose to believe he did the same with her. She's the person, who's still choosing to believe her intervention saved the tiger cubs instead of dooming them to violent death. The same person, who's "forbidding" her subordinate to die as she's about to swoop in as their savior, while abandoning army waiting for her help. The person, who basically calls her stupid aunt a hero for running towards a natural catastrophe with no means to protect even herself, instead of grabbing her kid and fleeing.

The third case of use of that "pick-up line" is when the Darkling's revived, empty-handed, totally done with the situation his people and country are in after his death. His only option, the only possible resource, is a bunch of stupid, xenophobic zealots, and he needs their chief's support. Flattering him might be a strategy, but use of THIS specific sentence reeks of irony, even sarcasm. The last time the Darkling did that, he believed he's a step away from bright future. He finally found the Sun Summoner, the situation was critical, but the key to everything was right here, and what more- his equal, his eternal companion, his Sun... Can you see the contrast?

I wouldn't call pointing out powerful Grisha's immortality a manipulation, it's experience talking. Sure, he didn't ship it, but there's no lie, and neither of the couples took this simple fact into consideration. Alina's hellbent on building her life around Malyen, and Zoya draws her political power from Nikolai. The same mortal Alina was somehow engaged to as THE Sun Summoner, same imprudence.

Generally the notion the Darkling was manipulating Alina is beyond laughable. If he did, Alina wouldn't run off after a single conversation with his mother, who btw is THE true manipulator in Morozova family. Either Aleksander's truly dull, and haven't learnt a thing at his mother's knee, or he simply didn't have the time and/or intention to try. I mean... his pathetic mortal pseudocousin is the master of getting Alina to do whatever he pleases. She marries Malyen after all.

I'm not sure what's the simplification of the trilogy supposed to show. Oh no, he did deeeeeds of eeeeevil!

When Alina was gathering an army and climbing up his chief enemy's ass, merrily planning to shoot him to pieces with all his followers and any bystanders (But who gives a shit about commoners in these books anyway.)?! Yeah, he should've totally treated her better...

[couldpolyamorysavethem]

ELIZABETH BURKE, PETER BURKE, and NEAL CAFFREY from WHITE COLLAR

Justification:

"okay listen this might already be in the queue but i sincerely believe the last three seasons of the show would've gone in a completely different direction if peter got that last little push away from his bullshit cop behaviour by neal pulling some grand romantic gesture for him + el. like, come on man, you've already come to peace with legality not being the same as morality after you ran all those cons and let neal cut and run, but he's so convinced the ONLY way to do good in the world is being an fbi agent that he like, actively makes things worse for neal (AND HIMSELF? AND ELIZABETH?) over and over again just so he can preserve the status quo of neal being his CI + while peter's an active field agent. would kissing about his devotion to their dynamic and neal's rehabilitation and peter's complicity in neal's dehumanisation by the state solve that? maybe not! but considering the alternative is neal fucking dying (he got better) about it i think we should give it a shot!

that previous paragraph was more or less me preaching to the choir wrt this relationship but still here's my pitch:

neal is essentially already the third in elizabeth + peter's marriage, with how much he lives in peter's brain during pre-series sequences, how INVESTED he is in their relationship (reminding peter of anniversaries), and then IN the actual series that only increases when he's coming around to their place all the time

each pair within this trio have supporting but distinct relationships w one another that they all benefit from (and they often need the support of all three dynamics to get through Issues™)

that one episode where peter ends up on the run w another fbi agent and neal gets paired up with that guy's CI, and there's just an unbelievable amount of parallels between the two pairs and their relationship, even after its established that those two are in a romantic relationship and peter and neal 'aren't'. like peter says he'd go to neal first if he was ever in trouble LIKEEE

fucking everything about the run up to the finale of season 2 where we hear over and over again that the only two ways conmen end up are with 'one last score' (which inevitably leads to the next, because they can't help themselves), or going to prison. OR, the 'true love' option, where an ex-conman is able to genuinely settle down and go straight (more or less). this 'secret third option' is literally even spelled out to us IN an episode about a trio of thieves (byron june and ford) who meant the world to each other!

neal uses the engagement ring he was GOING to give to his TEXTUAL 'true love' in order to pay for peter's ransom that one time and isn't even cut up about it??

also like the episode before that neal and peter switch identities (very well) and neal acts like elizabeth's wife, and the only issue peter (or anyone) has with it is that he's also committing the crime of impersonating a federal agent.

season three finale where peter asks why neal didn't run when he just got the score of his life and the first thing he says is 'you, elizabeth', before listing literally anything else. INCLUDING HIS CURRENT ROMANTIC INTEREST?

also the scene before that where neal immediately folds from his season long cat and mouse game with peter and hiding the treasure because elizabeth's in danger! and peter only believes he's not lying abt any of it bc it's elizabeth!

that one shot in the pilot where neal and elizabeth look up at peter and you can so clearly see he has a type.

literally everything about elizabeth + neal's interactions in s1. get you a girl who sneaks you into her house past dozens of fbi agents so you can talk to your handler personally about being framed for a crime that she has no reason to suspect you didn't do other than believe in your and her husband's relationship!

im losing track of my argument at this point. anyway can someone please knock peter upside the head with some kind of bi awakening for the love of god this homoerotic 'partners' situation has an unbelievably high body count not to mention all the violation of civil liberties and frankly you could've all moved to paris and started a detective agency YEARS ago and this show would become slice of life" - @time-is-restored

[martialartslover7]

Unpopular opinion incoming: ...Why do NaruHina fans even like The Last?

Unironically, I really want to know why, because, I am a huge NaruHina shipper myself, and even still, this movie never fails to aggrevate me in the worst way possible, even now, not even getting angry or anything, but... I just feel empty. I feel nothing. Not even the kiss made it worth, and I am HUGE sucker for sappy romances from time to time. Hell, I am a romance author, as a hobby. But this movie, it legit felt like, I just wasted my freaking time. That's a far worse sensation than getting mad, because, I just got nothing smart to say about it.

So, let me get this straight, and I am pretty sure, I am speaking of behalf of anyone that even remotely supports these two as one: The series NEVER making Naruto acknowledge Hinata's confession, was just damned moronic, even from a writing standpoint, because, yeah, in Japanese, it can mean two different things when you say "I love you", I know that, it might just mean "I love you as a teammate", but honestly, considering that NaruHina, by this point, was always meant, even according to Kishimoto, in hindsight, not acknowledging this moment for years to come, until the movie had to speak up about it: You lost the plot. If it was always meant to happen, why did you write it in a way as if Naruto straight up ignored everything she said?

And listen, I know, Naruto is a really delayed mofo, but the movie tried to paint it as if, "Naruto is a dense idiot, who isn't in touch with his own feelings, so you have to put him in a Genjutsu to """see the depths of her feelings for him"""", but honestly, to me, this just felt like a really convenient excuse to just regress Naruto as a person, just so the ship can happen, essentially, "guilt-tripping" him into going, "Ohhh, Hinata always had feelings for me, I didn't notice, even though she risked her life". Again, again, again, none of the events would even bother me so much, if it weren't for the undeniable fact: Somehow, during Shippuden, they tried to make it seem "ambigious", by not addressing her confession, EVER. Like, almost as if, Sakura was meant to be "the final option, because of Kushina", but it was clearly bullshit, and the movie wasn't subtle on that front either. But then, WHY WASN'T IT BROUGHT UP? WHY DID NARUTO NOT SAY ANYTHING?

And before any of you stupid motherfuckers are going to accuse me of being a "closeted NaruSaku shipper", I am not. These two simply wouldn't have ever worked out in the long run, for one thing, because I am not a fan of this trope, of the girl always needing to use violence, on an already traumatized individual (not to mention, that being played for laughs, which also rubs me the wrong way, especially in regards to comic relief characters), and him just going with it, which, by the way, isn't very realistic at all, as to why Naruto never got cross with Sakura at one point or another (one can of worms, I want to talk about some other time), and secondly, c'mon now, look at these two. They are more siblings than anything. As if, two different halves and shades of Kushina live inside the two of them, individually.

Not to mention, why are you NaruHina fans so comfortable with pardoning bad writing, brushing it off as if it's "deeper than you think"? Because, I just can't see it any other way, both Naruto and Hinata were frankly OOC in this movie, considering, this is all supposed to take place after the war. I can forgive Naruto being an idiot, who is slow on the draw, but straight up going "he is just dense", is frankly retarded, considering, we are talking about the equivalent to ninja Jesus Christ with him here, who basically loves everyone like family (safe for the villains), but then comes Hinata, he confesses first, but somehow "he is dense"? Why do we even need a fucking Genjutsu for all this? Doesn't he remember a person he truly loved like her, of ALL people? So we are left with having to rely on made-up flashbacks, which never even happened in the original series (only in Shippuden, late-game), and a contrived plot device, that comes in the name of "Otsutsuki"?

On that note, I really do not like what this movie did with Hinata. Look, "Toneri was messing with her chakra", even if that were true, it doesn't change anything, because it's still an excuse to make her another damsel in distress for Naruto to save. I get it, Hinata is not like Naruto in that, she bears his battle attributes, but sheesh, man, are you really fine with regressing her back to the Genin, who can't even run down walls to save her life? This is a mess, I really cannot approve of this, Hinata is way stronger than that, and we all know it, this just isn't acceptable to me. I want my couple dynamic to be evenly distributed to feel absolutely comfortable.

And this is acceptable to you all? I call it, for what it is: Terrible writing. Stitched together with convenient excuses, just to have the ship happen somehow, in an artificial way, despite having criminal lack of shared screentime together, non-canon content excluded, by the way (I am sorry, I have to be consistent here).

With all this knowledge, the movie comes off as a truly cringeworthy attempt to try appeasing to us, who love these two together. The sappy music, the "larger-than-life" presentation, the overt reliance on spectacle, rather than substance, is just making this experience even worse for me.

Peace.

P.S.: This is just my silly, personal opinion, if you love this movie, more power to you. But to me, this is one of those pieces of media that genuinely make me feel miserable.

[lovemyromance]

I really don't understand why people hate on Cassian or Nessian so much. Eris wouldn't have treated Nesta as a Queen, he would've treated her as a tool/weapon. He would never have loved her. She wouldn't have become a better person with someone like Eris.

Cassian held Nesta accountable for her actions. Sure, he could've done it in a softer way - but I don't think Nesta would've taken it seriously. She wouldn't have respected him if he did anything less than call her out on her bullshit. He loves her so much and it's crazy to see so many people shitting on him.

For what? Supporting his HL? Newsflash - not everything Nesta has done is justified. She has made mistakes. She has taken risks.

If giving Bryce the mask hadn't paid off - would you still think Nesta had done nothing wrong? Nesta took a risk and she was lucky it paid off. But it was a dangerous gamble, and even Cassian knew that.

That doesn't mean he loves her any less. Nesta needs someone who doesn't just sit there praising her for everything - good or bad. She needs someone to call her out and hold her accountable otherwise she would never have grown out of her self-loathing, spiteful ass.

And I say that, as a Nesta fan. Growth for a character doesn't mean sitting back and letting them do whatever they want. It doesn't mean hyping up her cruel side or encouraging her to endanger more people, to hurt others.

Nesta had plenty of reasons to lash out, but her own trauma doesn't justify the pain she inflicts onto others. Cassian loved her the way she needed to be loved. He loved all her rough edges, and together, they healed each other. That's love. That's how it should be.

Anyone who hates on Nessian, or Cassian, or Nesta just clearly does not understand the books at this point.