#thread lift review

[hattedhedgehog]

My (spoiler-free) thoughts on Dragon Age: The Veilguard

The review embargo has lifted and I can officially say that I've played through Dragon Age: The Veilguard early! 

Here are my spoiler-free thoughts and personal opinions on the overall gameplay experience: 

Narrative:

Rook's dialogue and decisions impact SO MUCH of the game, and come into play later on. From companions remembering your beverage preferences, to whether someone you spared shows up later to help or harm you, it feels like the game is paying attention and that you matter.

The stakes are unbelievably high. The Evanuris are utterly terrifying villains, in ways that Corypheus wasn’t. You really feel the magnitude of their power on a personal level as well as a worldwide level.

Whatever your thoughts on him, Solas is FUN as a character. He’s fun to talk to, fun to talk strategy with, fun to rile up and verbally spar with and fun to grudgingly ally with. Now that he can drop his former act and appear to you as the Dread Wolf, and you get to see his memories, you and he team get to decide how to utilise his knowledge and how far your trust extends.

The setup and payoff of the story beats are absolutely superb. The emotional turmoil as a player of being ensnared by things that was foreshadowed earlier in the game is utterly exquisite. Every thread of the larger tapestry has been woven with so much love by the writing team, and every character’s arc tie into the larger story in interesting ways.

The characters feel like they have full lives outside of the player character. You frequently go exploring their home turf and can meet their friends and family. They interact with each other on their own and move about the Lighthouse to spend time together, leave notes for each other, and talk about each other even when the other isn’t there. The team feels like they all really care about each other as well as you. 

You can tell what your approval rating is with characters, but if you want to romance them you have to put some thought into it. Interactions and world events besides the heart on the dialogue wheel influence their attraction to you.

Gameplay:

The combat is very engaging, and I enjoyed how unique all the enemies were.

Abilities in the skill tree can be refunded so you can redirect to a different specialization, which is really handy if you’re indecisive and overwhelmed at first (like I get when choosing abilities).  Most companions can get healing abilities no matter what class, so you don’t have to worry about balancing your rogues/mages/warriors (most of the time).

Climbing, balancing on ledges, using ziplines and sliding down slopes made environments feel more immersive. Additionally I like how each companion has unique abilities that let them interact with the world (fixing mechanisms, breathing fire, summoning bridges from the Fade, etc), and learning their abilities alongside them helps you grow closer.

The wayfinder light makes everything feel streamlined, so it's way harder to get lost while exploring an area. I hardly had to look at the mini map at all, and usually I’m glued to it! This meant I could actually look around at the beautiful environments and appreciate how lively they were, even without NPCs.

The upgrade system is far less overwhelming than in Inquisition; there are a finite amount of weapons/armour/accessories to be found, which are designed for each specific character like in DA:O and DA:2. There's also no longer crafting from scratch. If you loot an item you already have, it automatically upgrades the single item rather than giving you duplicates.

You know that frustration of coming across higher-level armour that just isn’t as flattering as your current one? Not to worry, you can collect “appearances” which you can toggle on as the visual for the armour while still retaining the benefits of the original.

I cannot stress enough how simple and easy to use the inventory is. It's heavenly. 

Using the shops of specific cities increases your reputation within those cities, which is a good incentive to explore and use the shops. I usually hate in-world shopping but here it was simple, and thinking about it tactically worked pretty well.

Quests sometimes reach a point where you can't continue at your current place in the story, and must return to in later acts. When re-exploring familiar areas, everything feeling big enough to be fresh with each visit, and new loot and codex entires appear.

Edit: something I forgot to mention. In character creator, you get to make your Inquisitor after you make Rook. The build menus are all the same, so manage your energy accordingly for doing it all again immediately after for your Inky. I spent an hour and a half building my Rook and wanted to get right to playing, and had to re-wire my brain a bit to be patient and keep going with the CC. (Seeing my Inquisitor with new graphics was awesome though).

A couple little things I appreciated:

The control sounds are very pleasing. From the whoosh of opening the combat wheel to the clinking of upgrades to the subtle whir of holding the decision button, they're a nice touch.

If companions are interrupted in conversation by combat, they resume it afterwards with a "what were you saying before?".

Photo mode is so fun to play with, and you can adjust blur/brightness/lens/depth within the scene. You can also toggle on and off the visibility of your Rook, your party, NPCs and enemies!

Assan learns new interaction tricks at the Lighthouse as the game goes on.

Nitpicks:

Overall I had an incredibly positive experience. The gripes I had were tiny things like:

I genuinely like the new art style of the game as a whole. However, the blurriness of some of the features in contrast with some elements being very crisp was distracting.

When trying to sell valuables for faction points without using Sell All, it takes quite a long time to count up all the individual sales, and it isn't a live counter. So it's kind of annoying if you get +3 points for each item you sell, need 150 points to get the next tier of items, and over 10K worth of valuables that you want to sell to other factions. 

If you do lots of quests without returning to the Lighthouse often, occasionally companions at the Lighthouse will have dialogue pertaining to the quests you've just finished as if you haven't done them.

You can pet the dogs and cats in the cities, but Rook turns their back to the camera to do it and it blocks most of the action unless you rotate quickly.

Gender stuff:

I was incredibly moved that not only can Rook be trans/nonbinary in the character creator if you so choose, but they get options to feel differently about their identity and journey, and it impacts their dialogue and how they relate to other characters! To access this make sure to interact with Varric's Mirror in your room in the Lighthouse. There are many conversation options throughout the game to discuss your identity with other characters, or relate your change of self to other situations. Crucially, it comes up when entering a romance and you have to communicate with your partner about it, which I never even THOUGHT of including in a game because it seemed impossible to even allow trans main characters to begin with.

There are also multiple trans and nonbinary characters throughout Thedas. What I found the most realistic was that just like in life, it is a consistent presence in any character's life, and comes up in conversation more than once. I have never seen a game this forthcoming and open about the topic of transitioning, and it was so validating. 

Final thoughts:

I adore the other games in the franchise. Something about The Veilguard affected me in a way no other game has. I cried multiple times while playing this game, both from joy and sadness. What struck me most is that the people who worked on this game REALLY listened to feedback from previous games, and were very set on making a piece of art that meant something to people. Even during the last few years of me testing the game, things have been adjusted and changed in direct response to our reactions and suggestions. It's surreal and quite touching.

Mileage will vary, but my playthrough was 70 hours on very low difficulty and I haven't done every side quest yet. I could easily have spent more than 100 hours in the game if I wasn't pressed for time.

I hope you enjoy this game as much as I have. See you in Thedas.

[chelseaclinicsg]

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[silverstar70]

Fandom: Criminal minds Character: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Author's note: English isn't my first language, I apologize for any mistakes.

Summary: Hotch invites Y/N to dinner with him and Jack, making a step forward in their relationship.

Warnings: family time, fluff moment, domestic fluff, loss of a parent, comfort.

Word count: 5,176k Hope you like it and let me know what you think! Enjoy it!

Dinner for three

Y/N stood at the threshold of Hotch's office, a smile playing on her lips as she leaned against the doorframe. The soft glow of the desk lamp illuminated the usually stoic figure, now bent over a stack of reports, his brow furrowed in concentration. She could see the weariness etched on his face, the dark circles under his eyes telling tales of late nights and endless cases.

“Wasn’t Morgan supposed to wrap up tonight?” she teased, stepping into the room, her voice light and playful.

Hotch looked up, his expression softening as he met her gaze. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, a rare smile breaking through the tension. “He was,” he replied. “But I get lost in the paperwork.”

She stepped further into the room, her heart fluttering at the sight of him. “What’s so important that you can’t take a night off?”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he regarded her. “Just the usual…cases to review, reports to finalize. You know how it is.” He paused, eyes softening. “But I’d rather be spending my evening with you.”

A warmth spread through Y/N at his admission. “You could’ve called me. I would’ve helped you.” She walked closer, around his desk to sit on the edge of it.

“Honey, I think we both know you’d be more of a distraction than a help,” he said with a grin, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone as he reached for her hand.

“You can’t keep this up, Aaron.” She said softly as her thumb brushed over his chuckles. “You need a break.”

Hotch’s gaze lingered on her, and he took a moment to admire her, the way her hair fell softly around her shoulders, and the determination in her eyes as he weighed her words. “I know. In fact, I was hoping you might join me and Jack for dinner,” he said, a hint of apprehension lacing his tone.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat, a rush of nervousness flooding her. “Are you sure about this?”

Hotch nodded, firmly. “I am, honey.” he stood up from his chair, moving in front of her letting their body touch. “I think it’s time. Jack deserves to know you’re in my life. I want him to understand that you’re not just my best friend; you mean so much more to me.”

Y/N felt a wave of warmth wash over her at his words. “I want that too,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “But what if he…”

Hotch shook his head, interrupting her thoughts. “He’s going to love having you around more. Trust me. You’ve always been important to us.”

She smiled, a blend of affection and nervousness filling her heart. “Okay, then. Dinner it is,” she said, standing up from the desk.

They came face to face, and the tension between them filled the office as their bodies were eager for more contact. Hotch hesitated for a brief moment, his eyes searching hers, and then as if drawn together by an invisible thread, he leaned down and kissed her softly.

The kiss was gentle, yet filled with an undeniable passion, a warmth that spread between them like the spark of a flame. Y/N melted into him, her hands finding their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer as she deepened the kiss. Hotch responded, his hands finding her waist, holding her tightly as if he were afraid she might disappear.

When they pulled away, Y/N rested her forehead against his, their breaths mingling in the quiet room. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“You deserve all the happiness in the world, Y/N,” he murmured, his eyes searching hers for affirmation.

Unable to resist, she tilted her head slightly and pressed her lips against his once more, feeling the warmth and safety of his embrace envelop her. The kiss was soft at first, a gentle exploration, but it deepened as their lips moved in perfect harmony. She melted against him, her hands tangling in his hair, grounding herself in the moment.

When they pulled apart for the second time, both breathless and slightly dazed, Y/N couldn’t help but smile. “You know, if we keep this up, we might never leave this office,” she teased, her heart racing from the intensity of their connection.

“Then it’s better if we leave,” he said, the warmth in his eyes matching the tenderness in his voice. He took her hand, intertwining their fingers as they walked out of the office together.

As they walked down the dimly lit hallways of the BAU, hand in hand, Y/N could feel the mix of anticipation and anxiety fluttering in her stomach. The weight of what they were about to do hung in the air, but the warmth of Hotch’s hand in hers provided some comfort.

As they drove through the quiet streets, the late evening air filled with the soft hum of the car engine, Y/N turned to Aaron, her excitement mixed with a hint of apprehension. “We don’t have to tell him tonight, though,” she suggested, glancing sideways at him, trying to gauge his reaction.

Hotch’s eyes remained focused on the road, but she could feel the weight of his thoughts in the air. “Don’t you want to? I mean we don’t have to if you are not ready, but...”

“No!” she said louder than she intended to, alarming Hotch. “That’s not what I meant. I am ready, Hotch. It’s just that I don’t wanna impose myself. I don’t want Jack to think that I’m replacing his mother or that you don’t love Haley anymore.”

Hotch sighed, understanding her concerns, and reached over to squeeze her hand, grounding her with his warmth. “Jack’s old enough to understand, and I want him to know you’re a part of our lives.”

Y/N bit her lip, her heart fluttering at his conviction. “You really think he’ll be okay with it?” she asked, her tone laced with uncertainty.

“I know he will. He’s been asking about you a lot lately,” he smiled in her direction for a second, before turning his attention to the road again. “Besides, he loves you. I want him to feel comfortable with our relationship.”

She nodded, her heart swelling with affection for both him and his son. As they arrived at his apartment, Jack’s laughter echoed from inside, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile. The little boy always had a way of lighting up any room.

Once inside, Y/N was met with the comforting warmth of his house. Jessica was in the living room chatting animatedly with Jack, who was bouncing in place, filled with energy.

“Hey, look who it is!” Jessica called, a wide smile breaking across her face as she turned to greet them. “Jack has been waiting for you.”

He looked up as they entered, his eyes lit up. “Daddy!” he exclaimed, rushing over to them.

“Hey, buddy!” Hotch greeted him, enveloping Jack in a warm embrace. “What have you been up to?”

“Building a castle!” Jack declared proudly, pointing to the colorful structure rising on the floor. “Look, it’s huge!”

“Wow, that’s amazing! You’re quite the architect,” Hotch replied, ruffling Jack’s hair affectionately.

As Jack turned his attention to Y/N, his smile widened even further, his small face lighting up with joy. “Y/N!” He threw his little arms around her waist, hugging her tightly as he looked up with wide, bright eyes. His infectious grin warmed her heart, and she felt an immediate surge of affection.

“Hey, you!” she replied, her tone playful.

Before she knew it, Jack was eagerly tugging at her hand, his enthusiasm pulling her further into the room. “Come on, I have to show you my castle!” he said, practically dragging her over to the corner where the sprawling fortress of blocks and action figures awaited.

As they settled on the floor, Jack’s excitement was palpable. “This is the gate, and that’s the tower where the hero lives,” he explained, pointing to each carefully placed piece, his little hands moving animatedly as he described the intricate layout of his castle.

“Wow, that’s amazing, Jack!” Y/N marveled, leaning closer to inspect the impressive structure.

As they continued to play, the room filled with laughter, their voices blending in a melody of joy and warmth. Y/N found herself immersed in the world Jack had built, letting her imagination run wild as she joined in on his grand adventure.

While they were engrossed in their game, she glanced over her shoulder to see Hotch standing in the kitchen, talking with Jessica. His gaze occasionally drifted over to her and Jack, a soft, almost wistful smile playing on his lips as he watched them. She knew he was happy to see them together like this, sharing a moment of innocence and joy.

Soon, Jessica excused herself, making her way to the door to leave. Hotch walked over to join them, his hand resting on Y/N’s shoulder as he spoke. “Say bye to Aunt Jessica, Jack.”

Jack looked up, waving energetically as he called out, “Bye, Aunt Jessica!”

Jessica chuckled, giving Jack a quick hug before turning to Y/N. “Take good care of them,” she whispered with a wink, her voice just loud enough for Y/N to hear, though her eyes sparkled with a knowing warmth.

Y/N felt her cheeks warm as she gave a small nod, a silent promise that she would. With a final smile, Jessica closed the door behind her, leaving the three of them alone in the cozy, welcoming space of the living room.

Jack turned to his father, a hopeful look on his face. “Dad, can Y/N sleep over tonight?” he asked, his tone earnest, clearly pleased with the idea. He shifted his gaze back to Y/N, his eyes wide with excitement. “We can watch movies and make popcorn!”

Y/N glanced at Hotch, her heart beating faster as she waited for his response. She saw the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, a look of affection mixed with amusement. Hotch crouched down to Jack’s level, his hand resting gently on his son’s shoulder.

“You really want Y/N to stay?” he asked, though his eyes were already soft with the answer.

Jack nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! And she can tell me a story before bed.”

Hotch’s gaze shifted to her, his eyes meeting hers with a warm, unspoken question. She felt a rush of happiness as she returned his look, sensing the trust and comfort he was offering. “What do you say, Y/N? Up for a sleepover?”

She laughed, unable to hide her delight as she ruffled Jack’s hair. “How could I say no to my favorite people?”

Jack cheered, his smile stretching from ear to ear. “Yes! I’ll get the blankets for the couch!” He darted off towards the hallway, his little feet pattering excitedly down the floor.

Hotch stood and moved closer to her, his voice lowering to a soft murmur. “Thank you for this,” he said, his hand brushing gently over hers. “For being here. It means the world to him… and to me.”

Y/N felt a wave of warmth wash over her, grounding her in this tender moment. She looked up at him, a gentle smile on her lips as she squeezed his hand. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

Without another word, Hotch leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a gentle, lingering kiss. The softness of his touch, the warmth of his embrace, all felt like a quiet promise, one she felt deep in her heart. She sighed, leaning into him, savoring the closeness they shared, knowing that this was where she belonged.

Just then, Jack came running back into the room, arms full of blankets and pillows. “Look, I got everything! We’re ready!”

Hotch pulled away with a chuckle, turning his attention to his son. “Looks like we’re all set. But first let’s wash our hands and make some dinner, okay?”

Jack’s excitement was palpable as he scampered off to the kitchen, and Y/N felt Hotch’s hand rest on her shoulder as he leaned down to whisper, “He loves having you around.”

She smiled, looking up at him. “And I love being around.”

They exchanged another tender look before heading together to the kitchen. Jack’s excitement was already palpable. He practically skipped to the counter and hopped onto the stool, determined to be the main helper.

“What do you want for dinner, Jack?” Aaron asked, leaning over with a smile as he passed to Jack a small cutting board and a plastic knife.

Jack beamed up at her, his eyes shining with the thrill of being the decision-maker. “Pasta!” he announced with absolute certainty, bouncing on his toes. “With tomato sauce!”

“How can I help?” she offered, her voice warm and genuine.

Aaron turned to her with an almost conspiratorial look. “You can sit in that chair,” he said, nodding toward the kitchen island, “and let us do the work.”

She raised her hands in mock surrender, laughing softly. “Yes, sir.” With that, she perched on one of the chairs at the island, resting her chin on her hand as she watched them.

Aaron returned his focus to the stove, where he began heating olive oil in a pan. Jack, meanwhile, concentrated intently on peeling the garlic, his small fingers fumbling slightly but determined. Aaron checked on him every so often, offering gentle guidance.

“Good job, buddy,” Aaron said, ruffling Jack’s hair. “Keep at it. You’re a natural.”

Y/N found herself smiling at the sight, her heart full as she watched father and son work together. The kitchen was filled with the rhythmic sounds of chopping, the sizzle of garlic hitting hot oil, and Jack’s occasional commentary about how good it smelled

Y/N couldn’t help but marvel at how easily he balanced teaching Jack and keeping everything under control. It was a side of him she didn’t see often enough, and it made her fall for him even more.

As they let the sauce simmer gently, Jack’s enthusiasm waned as waiting for the sauce to be ready took longer than his patience could handle. “I’m gonna go play with my Legos,” he declared, dashing out of the kitchen.

Aaron chuckled, shaking his head as he watched his son disappear into the living room. “That lasted longer than expected,” he remarked, turning back to the stove to give the sauce another gentle stir.

She let out a gentle laugh as Hotch reached for a bottle of wine. He poured two glasses and handed one to her letting their fingers brush for a second. They stood in companionable silence for a few moments, the rich aroma of the simmering sauce filling the kitchen. Y/N swirled the wine in her glass thoughtfully before taking a sip, savoring the bold, velvety flavor.

“You’re amazing, you know,” she said softly, her voice breaking the quiet.

Aaron glanced at her, one brow raising slightly in curiosity. “Oh?” he asked, setting his glass down after taking a sip. “You thought I couldn’t cook?”

“Well, I never imagined you behind the stove,” she said playfully. “But I gotta admit, it looks good on you.”

He chuckled, his expression modest. “It’s just tomato sauce. Nothing special.”

Y/N tilted her head, her lips curling into a playful smile. “Rossi and I have to disagree with you.” She stated, the hint of a smirk betraying her playful nature.

Aaron leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as his smile grew. “Ah, yes. I’ve heard the lectures. Food is sacred, right?”

“It is,” Y/N insisted, her eyes sparkling with good-natured determination. “So, it’s not just tomato sauce. And it’s never just food. It’s love, traditions, family, and hard work. You’re teaching Jack more than how to make dinner; you’re showing him how to care, how to be patient. Trust me, Aaron, there’s nothing ‘just’ about that.”

As her words filled the kitchen, Aaron found himself momentarily stunned. He admired the way her eyes lit up; her passion so genuine it was almost tangible. Her hands moved slightly as she spoke as if the weight of her conviction demanded not just words but motion.

He watched her, his focus narrowed entirely to her. There was something magnetic about the way she poured her heart into her explanation.

“What?” she asked after a beat, tilting her head as she noticed his lingering gaze.

He shook his head slightly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Nothing,” he said softly, though his voice carried the weight of unspoken admiration. “You’re just... incredible.”

Her expression softened, and a hint of color rose to her cheeks feeling shy all of sudden. “I’m sorry. It’s just seeing you with Jack it reminds me of my father. Of how the Sunday mornings used to be.”

Aaron’s gaze softened, his own heart aching as he watched her. “What was it like?” he asked quietly, his tone filled with genuine curiosity.

Y/N let out a quiet sigh, taking a moment to steady herself. “You know he was a Marine, so he was away most of the time. But when he was home, Sundays were for his kids. Me and my siblings used to wake up early, and no matter how tired he was or how awful the week had been, he’d make this huge breakfast for us.” She smiled softly remembering those moments, though her eyes held a lingering sadness. “He then would let us cook with him and he was so patient, even when we spilled ingredients everywhere.”

Aaron leaned against the counter, his full attention on her. “It sounds like he was a great father,” he said gently.

“He was,” she said, her voice thickening just slightly. “He died when I was seven and my world fell apart. After that everything stopped, everything changed. My mother wasn’t quite like him, she was and still is, all about work.”

Hotch could sense the bitterness in her voice as she mentioned her mother. He didn’t know what happened between them and Y/N didn’t seem inclined to talk about it so he let it go. He simply reached for her hand, letting her feel her presence. Words weren’t needed in that moment.

Finally, he spoke, his voice gentle. “Do you miss Italy?”

She blinked at the question, startled by how much it had caught her off guard. But then, her eyes softened. “Sometimes.” Her smile faltered slightly, “We used to go there every summer before my father died. I went back to Italy when I was deployed in Naples.” She took a breath, looking down for a moment before meeting his eyes. “It wasn’t the same thing, though. I was still working, still on a mission. But knowing the language and the culture made me feel at home.”

He smiled at her words. “Your father would be proud, you know right?”

She nodded slightly, forcing a small smile. “Thank you.”

They were silent for a moment, the kitchen filled only with the soft simmering of the sauce. She found herself feeling a little lighter like she had shared a piece of herself she hadn’t realized she was holding onto so tightly.

Aaron, for his part, didn’t break the quiet. He wasn’t going to rush her; instead, he just placed a kiss on her forehead and stayed there with her, giving her the space to feel whatever she needed to feel.

“Anyway,” she said recomposing herself, clearing her throat as if to dismiss the heaviness of the moment. She gave him a small smile, brushing away the trace of emotion that lingered in her voice. “I meant you’re amazing at being a dad.”

His expression shifted, and his eyes softened as she made an effort to move past the vulnerability she had just shared. He opened his mouth as if to respond but hesitated, unsure of what to say.

“Watching you with Jack – it’s amazing. You’re patient and kind, you spend time teaching him things and I can see that he loves listening to you. You make it look effortless.”

Aaron exhaled quietly, his eyes dropping to the countertop for a moment before returning to hers. “It doesn’t feel effortless,” he admitted. “Most of the time, I’m just trying to make sure I don’t mess it up.”

“You’re not messing anything up,” she said, reaching out to place her hand lightly on his arm. “I know it must be awful raising him alone, but you’re doing a great job, Aaron. Jack is happy. He’s kind. He’s confident. That doesn’t happen by accident. That’s you.”

Her words hit him more than anticipated. He knew she saw the effort he put in, even when he didn’t feel like he was doing enough. The truth was, there were days when it felt like he was walking on a tightrope, unsure of his every step, knowing that the responsibility of raising Jack fell entirely on his shoulders.

A small, almost shy smile tugged at his lips as he met her gaze. He leaned closer and placed a gentle, lingering kiss on her lips, that said more than words could ever express.

He pulled back after a second, his forehead resting gently against hers as he let out a quiet breath. “Thank you,”

Y/N smiled softly, her hand resting on his arm, her thumb brushing over his skin as she leaned in to kiss him again.

A few minutes passed, and the scent of the simmering tomato sauce filled the kitchen. The atmosphere was light and filled with the hum of comfort right before Jack’s voice broke through the calm.

“I think it’s ready!” Jack declared, his small face lighting up with excitement. He rushed over to the kitchen island, holding a spoon with a focused look on his face.

He blew on a spoonful of sauce, holding it out to Y/N. “You have to try it,” he said, his small face full of pride.

Y/N reached for the spoon and took a small taste. The sauce was wonderful, perfectly balanced in flavors. She let out a small sigh of approval and smiled up at Jack, her heart swelling with affection for the boy. “Jack, this is the best sauce I’ve ever had!”

Jack’s grin stretched from ear to ear as he turned to his dad, brimming with pride. “You hear that, Dad? We did well.”

Hotch bent down, tasting the spoon Jack offered him, and nodded with a smile. “I think you’re right. This might be our best work yet.”

As Hotch finished preparing, Y/N insisted on setting the table and helped Jack arrange the plates and utensils. Soon, Hotch brought out the finished pasta, placing it in the center of the table as they all took their seats. Jack dug in eagerly, shoveling bites of pasta with wild abandon, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.

Every so often, she caught Hotch’s gaze from across the table, a gentle warmth in his eyes as he looked between her and Jack, clearly savoring the moment. Her heart swelled, feeling the sweetness of this makeshift family dinner, the way they fit together so naturally, so effortlessly.

As the meal wrapped up, Jack declared, “Movie time!” and bounded off to the living room, ready to set up their viewing area.

Hotch stayed behind for a moment, gently catching Y/N’s hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. She squeezed his hand, leaning in just a little closer, her eyes lingering on him, feeling the warmth of his gratitude and the shared happiness between them. He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead before they joined Jack in the living room.

“Hey, buddy, can you come sit with us for a minute?”

Jack immediately left what he was doing, curious about what his father had to say that couldn’t wait the day after.

Hotch exchanged a glance with Y/N, who offered him a reassuring smile. “I want to talk to you about something important,” he began, his voice steady yet gentle. “You know how Y/N has been spending more time with us?” Hotch asked, his heart pounding slightly.

“Yeah! She’s awesome!” Jack exclaimed, a bright smile spreading across his face.

“Well, Y/N and I… we really like each other,” Hotch said, his words flowing easier than he expected. He watched Jack’s face, looking for any signs of confusion.

Jack blinked, processing the information. Then, to Hotch’s surprise, a huge grin broke out across his face. “So, is she your girlfriend?” he asked innocently, looking between his dad and Y/N.

Hotch nodded, feeling a wave of hesitancy washing over him. “Yes, she is.”

A huge grin broke across Jack’s face, his joy infectious. “That’s awesome, Dad!” He bounced in his seat, nearly knocking over a stack of building blocks beside him. Jack hugged both his father and Y/N, overjoyed by the news. “Can we watch the movie, now?”

Both adults nodded, too stunned by his reaction to speak. With the movie Cars playing softly in the background, Jack settled snugly between Hotch and Y/N, cheered and laughed through every twist and turn of Lightning McQueen’s adventures. But as the movie progressed, his energy finally wore down, and he leaned sleepily against Y/N, his eyelids fluttering shut.

Feeling the weight of his head on her arm, Y/N looked down, a tender smile spreading across her face as she watched his small chest rise and fall with each peaceful breath. She glanced over at Hotch, who was already watching her with that soft, quiet smile that made her heart skip a beat.

“Should we put him in bed?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper so as not to disturb the sleepy child nestled against her side.

Hotch shook his head, his eyes never leaving the view of Jack resting so peacefully with her. “In a second,” he murmured, reaching over to gently tuck a stray lock of hair away from Jack’s forehead. “I want to enjoy this a little longer.”

He leaned back against the couch, his gaze lingering on the sight of his son curled up, trusting and content, next to the woman he loved. His expression was one of quiet awe, a look that spoke volumes about how much this moment meant to him. The vulnerability and happiness in his eyes made Y/N’s heart swell with love.

She smiled, shifting just enough to rest her head against Hotch’s shoulder, careful not to disturb Jack. “I think he already decided I’m part of the family,” she whispered, her voice laced with affection.

Hotch chuckled softly, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. “He has,” he said, his voice warm and steady. “And so have I.”

In that moment, Y/N felt as if the world had stopped. She leaned in closer, capturing his lips in a soft kiss.

When they pulled away, both slightly breathless, Y/N saw the flicker of surprise in Hotch’s eyes. “What was that for?” he asked, a playful smile spreading across his face.

“For being you,” she replied, her cheeks warming under his gaze.

They sat in comfortable silence, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment, with Jack’s soft breathing a gentle background to the stillness that wrapped around them. Hotch leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, a silent thank-you for being there, for becoming part of his life in ways he hadn’t expected but was endlessly grateful for.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Hotch reluctantly got up from the couch, as if he wanted to freeze this moment a little longer. He carefully lifted Jack from Y/N’s side, cradling him in his arms. The boy instinctively nestled into his father’s embrace, looking perfectly at home.

They settled Jack in bed, tucking him in beneath his favorite superhero blanket. “Goodnight, buddy. Sweet dreams,” he whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss on Jack’s forehead.

“Night, Dad. Night, Y/N,” Jack murmured, his eyes always closed.

“Goodnight, Jack,” Y/N said. She lingered for a moment, taking in the innocence of his sleeping face before they stepped back into the hallway.

Once they closed the door behind them, Y/N turned to Hotch, who looked at her with a mixture of gratitude and happiness. “He really loves you.” He said, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/N smiled, feeling the warmth spread through her. “And I really love him,” she replied.

Hotch stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her waist, and pulling her against him. Y/N looked up into his deep brown eyes, seeing sincerity and love reflected back at her. After a moment, Hotch tilted his head slightly and pressed his lips against hers in a gentle yet passionate kiss. The world around them faded away as they lost themselves in the moment.

She could feel the warmth of his body against hers and the sweet taste of his lips, igniting a spark that sent butterflies dancing in her stomach.

After a lingering kiss, they broke apart, breathless. Hotch’s hands remained on her waist, and she could see the affection in his gaze. “Let’s head to the bedroom,” he suggested softly, and Y/N nodded, feeling her heart race at the thought of spending the night together.

They walked hand in hand to Hotch’s bedroom. Once inside, Hotch closed the door, turning to face her with a serious expression.

“I didn’t expect that reaction,” he began, his voice low and sincere, “but I’m glad he accepted it, accepted us.”

Y/N stepped closer, cupping his face in her hands, her thumb brushing gently across his cheek. “I’m glad too.” She whispered.

With a soft smile, Hotch leaned down and captured her lips again in a softer kiss, but equally filled with love. She melted into him, her fingers tangling in his hair as she kissed him back. When they finally pulled away, their foreheads rested against each other for a moment.

“We should probably get some sleep,” Hotch said, though his voice held a hint of reluctance.

“Yeah, we should,” Y/N agreed, though she couldn’t help but steal another quick kiss.

They settled into bed; the sheets cool against their skin as they lay side by side. Hotch reached for her, pulling her close so she could rest her head on his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat was comforting, lulling her into a sense of security.

As Y/N lay there, feeling the warmth of Hotch beside her, she realized that this was where she belonged. This was what “home” felt like. 

“Goodnight, honey,” Hotch murmured softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

“Goodnight, Aaron,” she whispered back, closing her eyes and allowing herself to drift into a peaceful sleep, surrounded by the warmth of his love.

Tag: @sweetbearcolorgarden

[necronatural]

The Reigen Arataka Deranged NormalMan Review

Do you ever think about how Reigen has like. A really strange belief in The System and How Things Should Be. Like REALLY strange. Whatever he's got going on is so much weirder than "scammer with a heart of gold".

I think it all comes together if you read the 10th Season 3 omake like, seriously interrogate this:

This is normal, if comedically thoughtful and realistic for a shounen character. This guy talks like a mandatory reporter. What's strange is what immediately follows:

"AS A SPIRITUAL SPECIALIST" DOING A LOT OF HEAVY LIFTING HERE REIGEN

Not only did he hunt down the families of the children bullying his client (insane. where did he get that info), he also contacted the school as if he were representing his own son in order to get justice, and then hunted down a source of complaints when the school fell through.

This is like a genuinely bizarre level of commitment to the bit, and the bit is "the system works, and if it doesn't work, we will find a system that does work, and if we cannot, hell or high water it is my PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY to make the system stop slouching so it works again".

Long thread on the manga with this reading⬇️

Before I start. Reigen adopting Teru is more IC than you think but I don't think it is IC in the way people think it is. I think about this a lot and I think people who do it because they like Reigen aren't understanding how into his bit he is. Guy who talks to social services

So remember the arc that won people over to Reigen despite the fact he's an asshole who takes advantage of Mob and derides him constantly in order to keep him complacent?

He has Mob's phone on his GPS. This makes sense; he's been taking him out and about since he was 11. Very responsible!

Reigen dismisses the "Boss" mistake thinking well, it's a misunderstanding, but it got me in. Yet as soon as he heard they're committing crimes, he VISIBLY puts on his Boss Pants to chastise them. Again, normal so far. I think any scammer with a heart of gold would do this. (And foreshadowing for why he retried reprimanding the Claw Cadres a second time after getting power.)

Again. He's a scumbag. So he leaves Mob to beat their asses using his previous rhetoric. But then!

Reigen's shady morality is more like "people who can take care of things should take care of things". To him, Mob is the Authority on Espers, and can handle conflict like this. Immediately upon becoming aware he can't, Reigen thinks "oh, okay, so the only person who can take care of things is someone who can deescalate". (Pictured: Deescalation)

Okay. Besides the fact this is insufferable as a general concept - YOU just told him to handle it YOU are the source of his stress - his first step in deescalation is to force Mob to back down. Rather than asking him not to fight, he reestablishes "rules" in order to convince Mob he must back down - the same way he tried using what he said to worm his way out of dealing with this shit - and then sets himself up as the authority figure to which the others must obviously defer in matters of His Boy, like a parent accepting criticism at a PTA meeting. This isn't Reigen claiming Mob so much as "in order for them to not attack Mob, they must view me as a representative for Mob".

And like a good authority figure:

Continuing with his phrasing:

If you think about it, this is like...an objectively very strange and incredibly bold approach to this situation. They're homicidal. Reigen is a DERANGED level of Normal Man. He has this image in his head of normalcy, of the world at standard operating procedures, and reinforces it right through an entire conflict. Carceral beliefs don't even factor into this, simply expressing his principles and expecting them to fold.

And they do lol. I keep wondering how Shou must have felt listening to him talk like that

We see a little more of his good side in work; when he was getting so little work it was affecting his grocery bills, this moneygrubbing scammer still asked for like $200 to clear an entire city of hauntings. (His regular exorcisms are around $30). Fair prices are part of his principles of how the business should be. He operates basically at-cost. He mentions he wanted to come out here because he's bored. He's killing time as a career.

Aside:

Just realized he called Mob in last minute so Mob didn't know he accepted crops instead of money. Shigeo didn't like that

So consider that he never got caught here and there was a call on the news to hunt him down at the end of this bit: for the average viewer of the anime, it's just funny, but this is part of the Mogami pre-arc so we've gotten a hold of him by now; he probably holds an inherent belief that the police will intercept him and not Mob. Why wouldn't they? Why would an adult man want to dress up in a highschool girl's uniform? The System will understand.

Not relevant to my point but I like how he realizes what's wrong with Mob way before the final arc, just not why it's happening. Also he doesn't say anything.

With the way his principles are, you really get the feeling that Reigen does his best to avoid culpability specifically because if something happened that was his fault, he'd have to step up to the plate to compensate for that, which is troublesome to him who is a career time-killer. It does not occur to him that an actual bad person and scammer would not step up to the plate as a matter of course. This is his way

What I find really interesting is that this Militant Insane NormalMan does have a sense of wanting something "special", but rather than whip Mob up the way Dimple did Ritsu, he ended up projecting his own values onto Mob, as if he could recreate a special "self" within him. He's always deriding him and baiting him and lying to him in hopes of creating a superb person that a special individual like Mob finds admirable, as if Mob is the authority on his quality of character. Sad! lol

Anyway, it adds a lot more kick to this famous line. Reigen genuinely believes in Authority

Authority works!

And if Mob (the authority on espers) doesn't work, who's the person who MUST step up to the plate [common sense]? You guessed it.

There are other aspects of Reigen's character that everyone and their dog has already picked up on (his self-loathing is the entire reason the way he talked to Mob in Confession arc hit so hard), but this one's my favourite. He's insane

[criminally-chill]

In good hands

——————————

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x reader

Category: Fluff

Trigger: Talks about an injury and needles

Chapter One: The First Stitch

The fluorescent lights of the ER cast a harsh, clinical glow over the bustling scene, but Emily Prentiss barely noticed. Years in the BAU had made her accustomed to hospital settings; an ER visit every so often was practically part of the job. Tonight, a suspect’s wild swing had left her with a cut on her forehead. It wasn’t serious, but her head was starting to throb, and she was hoping to get stitched up quickly so she could go home and decompress.

“Agent Prentiss?” a nurse called from the hallway.

Emily looked up, hand still pressed to her forehead, and followed the nurse to a curtained-off bay in the back. She perched on the edge of the exam table, legs dangling, waiting for the doctor. A few moments later, the curtain swept back, and in stepped someone unexpected.

The doctor before her was tall and muscular, with tattooed arms visible even under the loose fit of her scrubs. Her eyes held a quiet intensity, softened by a slight smirk as she reviewed Emily’s chart.

“You’re Emily Prentiss?” she asked, glancing up with a glint of curiosity.

“That’s me,” Emily replied, tilting her head slightly. “And you are?”

“Y/N L/N. Trauma surgeon.” Y/N raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the counter as she took in the chart details. “So, the BAU, huh?”

Emily gave a short nod. “Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

Y/N’s lips curved into a smile. “Behavioral Analysis? That sounds intense. I’m just here to stitch you up, but… I don’t know. Maybe I’ll get profiled while we’re at it?”

Emily chuckled, picking up on the doctor’s playful tone. “Consider it a free perk.” She leaned in slightly, half in jest. “If you’re not careful, I might have you all figured out by the end of this.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” Y/N replied, grabbing antiseptic from the counter. She moved closer, tilting Emily’s chin slightly as she examined the cut. “Looks like a straightforward job,” she murmured, preparing to clean the area. “But it’s on your forehead, so I’ll do my best to make sure it doesn’t scar.”

Emily barely felt the sting of the antiseptic. Her focus had shifted to the steady, practiced way Y/N moved—her hands careful, her eyes alert. Close up, Emily noticed faint scars beneath Y/N’s collar, one particularly prominent scar peeking just above the neckline of her scrubs. Instinctively, Emily’s gaze softened, sensing a story hidden in those scars.

“Hold still,” Y/N said gently, meeting her eyes for a moment before lifting a syringe. “This will numb the area. Just a small pinch.”

Emily barely flinched as Y/N worked with quick precision, injecting the anesthetic in small increments. Her fingers brushed lightly along the edges of Emily’s cut, and Emily couldn’t help but notice the quiet strength in her hands—hands that spoke of experience, both in the ER and beyond.

“So,” Y/N began as she threaded the suture needle, her voice light. “Rough night?”

Emily chuckled, feeling the slight pull of her skin as Y/N started her first stitch. “You could say that. Just your average takedown.”

Y/N nodded, eyes fixed on her work. “The things people get up to these days…” She glanced up briefly, meeting Emily’s gaze with a wry smile. “Guess that’s why we’re both here at midnight, doing what we do.”

A beat of silence passed between them, charged with a quiet understanding. Y/N’s focus returned to the wound, her hands steady, her brow furrowed slightly as she worked with meticulous care. Her closeness, her calm, drew Emily in, and for a moment, the chaos of her day faded.

Y/N’s fingers gently tilted Emily’s chin to catch the right angle. “Almost done,” she murmured. “You holding up okay?”

“Yeah,” Emily replied, her voice softer than usual. “Better than expected.”

Y/N glanced up, eyebrows raised, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “High praise.”

They shared a small laugh before Y/N finished the last stitch, tying it off with a practiced hand. She reached for a bandage, gently pressing it over the stitches with a tenderness that surprised Emily.

“There we go,” Y/N said, leaning back slightly to admire her work. “You’re all set.”

Emily touched the edge of the bandage with a wry grin. “It’s a good look.”

“Oh, definitely,” Y/N replied, her voice low, playful. She set her supplies aside, and their eyes met again, lingering just a little too long for it to be merely professional.

Y/N started to close Emily’s chart but seemed to hesitate. “Look, I don’t know if this is too forward, but… I’d like to know more about what you do. The cases, the team you work with. It sounds like a life few people would understand.”

Emily’s lips curved into a grin. “Are you saying you might be interested in a little after-hours profiling session?”

“Maybe,” Y/N replied, meeting her gaze with a mischievous glint. “Or maybe something less work-related. You know… if you’d want to go out sometime.”

Emily’s heart skipped, but she masked it quickly. “I’d like that.”

Y/N hesitated, smiling with a rueful glance. “Except there’s this little hospital policy about dating patients. Something about ethics, boundaries—all that fun stuff.”

Emily’s face fell, but Y/N’s smile only widened as she wrote a few final notes in Emily’s file.

“But once I discharge you,” Y/N said, closing the chart with a wink, “feel free to ask again.”

Emily’s pulse quickened, and she gave Y/N a lingering look as she stood. “Noted, Dr. L/N.”

Y/N smirked, not missing a beat. “See you around, Agent Prentiss.” She gestured to the door, pausing just long enough to catch Emily’s eye one last time.

A few minutes later, as she was officially discharged, Emily made her way out of the ER. But just before she left, she heard a voice call her name from down the hall.

Turning, she saw Y/N leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, the smallest smirk on her face.

“So,” Y/N said, cocking her head. “Feel free to ask again now.”

Emily couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across her face. “Dr. L/N, would you like to go out with me?”

Y/N’s smile softened, her eyes sparkling. “I’d love to.”

They exchanged numbers, and as Emily left the hospital, she felt a strange, unexpected warmth settling over her. She didn’t know what to expect from this mysterious, tattooed surgeon with the quick wit and quiet strength, but she knew she was looking forward to finding out.

As she drove through the quiet streets, Emily’s thoughts circled back to Y/N. There was an unusual excitement coursing through her, a feeling she hadn’t expected from such a simple encounter. It wasn’t just the attraction, though that was certainly there. It was the comfort, the ease she’d felt with Y/N—a rare thing in Emily’s world.

She parked her car and took a moment to sit in the silence, her mind drifting back to the feel of Y/N’s hands as she stitched up her forehead. The gentle confidence, the way she’d looked at Emily, not with caution or curiosity but with a kind of familiarity, like she’d already understood the scars that ran deeper than skin.

As she climbed out of her car, her phone buzzed.

“Hey, Agent Prentiss, don’t forget to take it easy tonight. Can’t have you back here so soon. – Y/N”

Emily chuckled, typing back before she even knew what she wanted to say. “No promises, but I’ll do my best. Looking forward to that drink.”

After she sent it, she pocketed her phone, feeling a rare lightness in her chest. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

[the-californicationist]

he lets you watch

When you overhear Captain Price watching porn in his office, you decide to turn his fantasies into a reality.

Link to AO3

MDNI/18+

TW: femdom, gagging, one slap

You were working late. Again. It was the most frustrating part of any operation: recon review. All the footage collected from all the soldiers’ body cams had to be reviewed and documented. Any dialogue? Syntactically tagged. Any shots fired? Counted. Any kills? Confirmed. You were glad to help the team, but this stage of discovery was dreadfully boring. 

Even worse, your new-found crush on your captain was driving you insane. To be honest, you’d had your eye on him for a while. There was something about a man in charge, but it was when this last set of footage came through that you really went off the deep end. 

Price had gone with Gaz into a warehouse that was suspected of housing enemy munitions, and the captain had uncovered crates and crates of target-marking spray paint. Huge canisters that attached to the bottoms of planes were all stuck in little rows, lined up and ready to use. 

Unfortunately for the captain, one of the canisters was propped open on the top of its box, and when he lifted the lid, he got covered in red dye. You watched it explode, covering the camera, and then when it reconnected, there he was. Shirtless. Down to his boxer briefs. Wiping red dye off of himself with his clothes. Gaz had brought a full kit, so Price was changing out, hoping to stay covert and camouflaged in the clean gear. Couldn’t well be a glowing red dot while trying to escape enemy territory. 

His chest was broad and full of dense, dark hair, laying flat like soft fur, untrimmed and natural. His beard was streaked red, and half his face was painted, making him look like an ancient Celt, ready for brutal highland battles and bedding willing lassies. He was frustrated by his accident, so all of his movements were sharp and aggressive, his muscles raging and wrestling against his skin. Then, he moved closer to the camera, and the bulge in his underwear became glaringly apparent. 

Hung. Thick. Not so long that it was out of place, but heavy. His cock was imposing, and when he readjusted himself, you could see how dense the muscle really was. You couldn’t help but pause the film, staring, in glorious 4k. You nearly had to wipe the drool from your mouth. 

Price looked so confident here. He was always self-assured, but sometimes, when you spoke with him, there was something that he was holding back. Some shyness perhaps, maybe just a reserved nature, but not here. Not in his livid rage, he was like a wounded beast - angry and virile. Full of righteous energy. It made you imagine making him come undone in other ways, in the ways a woman was meant to make a beast like that come apart at the seams. Ripping the constricting threads and freeing the hulking creature looming within. 

Now, he was sitting in his office, right next to yours, and he’d started watching footage of his own. Or, at least, you thought that he was watching the cams…until you heard a woman’s salacious moan penetrate the thin wall between you. 

Your eyes grew wide, and your breath caught in your chest. You sat in the silence of your office, hearing your heart pound in your ears. You waited to hear it again, just to be sure.

Then, a very quiet, 

“You wanna come?”

You let out the breath you’d been holding. It wooshed from you like a wave crashing against miles and miles of sand. 

Something snapped, some darkness possessed you. You found yourself standing, walking toward the door to his office. It was so late, everyone else had turned in. Just you and him in the west hall of the base awake. He never slept, it seemed. A night owl like you. 

You opened his door without knocking. You’d never done that before, and objectively, it was a truly insane choice. 

In your mind, his hand had lingered when he took his cup of coffee from your hands. In your imagination, he’d cocked a sly smile when you made a joke, just between you and him. You thought you’d seen him checking out your ass in the gym. But, you didn’t have any real proof. 

Popping open his door was the equivalent of pulling the trigger on a bazooka. 

He stood, caught like a fox in a snare, his chair clattering as you came into the room and shut the door behind you quickly. 

“Sergeant, uh,” he recovered, “What happened?”

“Captain.” 

It was a full sentence. And, it was all you had. You were finished. 

The video was still playing. The lurid slapping of skin on skin. Her over-acted moans, his ritual panting. Every few seconds, you counted three, there was another soft,

“You like that, daddy?”

You smiled. He turned red, just like he’d been painted again. 

“Sergeant, I was just…”

He paused the movie. Then, with his body, with the hand roughly rubbing down his face, with the palm tightly covering his mouth, he said a million other words. He was still pink with shame, and then he laughed,

“Yeah, no. I was ‘bout to have a wank. Not sure why I was trying to make you believe otherwise, love. Sorry. It’s too loud?”

You smiled wider. His genuine honesty was so smooth and effortless. A thief caught with his hands in the cookie jar, begging you to punish him for it. 

“No,” you shook your head, “Just wanted to see what you were watching.”

He didn’t register what you said at first, still staring down at his boots. Then, realization washed over him and he looked up at you, eyes shining, brows arched.

“Oh? That so?”

You nodded,

“Let me see what’s got you up so late.”

The captain rubbed a big, calloused hand across his mouth, smoothing his beard, a bit nervous. Then, he pulled a chair around and motioned for you to sit beside him. You sat. He sat. He hit play. 

A woman was straddling a man, both of them hairless and slick like brand new Barbie dolls, spray-tan orange and bleach-blond hair. Americans. She was riding his larger than average dick slowly, deliberately slow, edging him with her pussy. She had a hand around his throat, grasping his jaw tightly, pushing his head back. He was tied to the chair, straining against it, clearly desperate as he writhed beneath her, fighting his restraints. 

“Please, baby. Please, let me come?” He begged. 

“You wanna come, daddy?” She teased. 

“Yeah, can I come?” He begged. 

“Ah-ah! I don’t think so…” She teased. 

Begging. Teasing. Begging. Teasing. A vicious, uncontrollable cycle of cruelty on her part, always pulling the proverbial carrot farther and farther from his snapping jaws. 

You turned to Price who was watching, rapt. He noticed you staring at him. Before he turned to face you, he smiled, sighing,

“Sometimes, when you’re the one barking orders all day, it’d be nice to turn your head off and follow someone else’s for a change.”

“You could follow my orders,” some psychotic part of you spoke. 

He gripped the side of the chair, his once-relaxed hands now making the cheap aluminum frame creak and pop. 

“What’d you say, Sergeant?”

“You heard me, Captain,” you didn’t know if you should call an exorcist or what. Who was this version of yourself and how quickly was she going to get you court martialed?

“You think you can order me around?”

You leaned in, close enough to smell the tobacco on his breath, Cuban cigars leaving earthy notes of vanilla and licorice behind. You whispered,

“I know I can.”

He breathed out, his exhale caressing your lips, threatening to kiss you. 

You didn’t move. Not a muscle. You locked eyes with him, 

“Sit on your hands, Captain.”

“Sergeant,” he tried to kiss you, but you pulled away quickly. 

Part of your body screamed at you, wondering why you’d avoid his advances, but your mind knew what he wanted. He needed to lose control. For a man like Price to lose it, it must be taken from him. Forcibly. 

“I said sit... on... them,” you sneered, making yourself larger by standing over him, placing your hands on his thighs to press into his skin. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he laughed, patronizing and light-hearted. It made you want to break him of that habit. Of thinking you were just his sergeant. Just the girl who brought him coffee. Just his gym buddy. 

He still hadn’t complied, chuckling to himself. Out of no where, you straight up fucking slapped him. Hard. Right across the jaw. Grabbing him by the collar,

“Sit on your fucking hands, soldier. That’s an order,” you barked. 

He sat on his hands, staring at you like you had doused yourself in gasoline and caught yourself on fire, in awe.

You pushed his chair back until you had room to move in front of him, and you began peeling off your clothes, one by one. Your shirt, your cargos, your bra, your panties; they all ended up on the floor, leaving you naked and touching yourself lazily, letting your hands wander. 

He moved to lift his hands off his seat, wanting to touch, so you backed away from him. It was a warning: move and this ends. Follow my orders, and I’ll stay. He settled back down. 

“You know, I should punish you for slapping me, Sergeant. That’s insubordination,” he chided, trying to regain control of the situation. 

You took your panties off the ground and found the wet stain he’d caused, showing it to him coyly, like you’d picked up a pretty shell from the beach. It gleamed in the light of his desk lamp. Then, you walked over to him, swaying your hips, and bent down as if to kiss him. 

As he opened his mouth to kiss you back, you pushed your panties into it, past his teeth, clutching at his jaw with the other hand as roughly as you could, knowing you couldn’t hurt him. You shushed his surprised noises, putting a finger to his lip,

“Shh, Captain. That’s enough. You’re not in charge anymore, are you?”

He furrowed his brow as if he would fight back, as if he would remove his hands and teach you a lesson. Then, as he tasted you on his tongue, he realized that you were offering prizes for obedience. He would reap the rewards, if he was willing to play along. His face softened, and he shook his head no. 

“Good boy,” you whispered. 

You kissed his mouth, awkwardly, since it was full of your wet panties, there was little he could do except experience your kisses. He reacted as if he wanted to kiss you back, and as you moved to kiss his jawline, he moaned. 

Price’s moans were rumbling and deep, long and low like a bull elephant’s roar. You wanted to drag that noise out of him again. Your hand found his belt buckle, and you rugged at it, willing it to loosen. As you kissed his neck, you drug down his zipper and freed his cock from the fabric. 

The captain was not soft. If anything, he was harder than he should’ve been for a little teasing and some neck kisses. You decided to use that to his disadvantage,

“My, my, my. Someone’s eager…”

You tugged up and down with length in a long, languid massage, feeling how his foreskin slipped over the head and down the shaft, smooth and supple. He was hairy around the root of his cock, just as you’d hoped, and after seeing the video of him covered in paint, you wished you could strip him down and run your fingernails through his chest hair, delicately scratching his skin and peaked nipples. 

For now, you spit on his cockhead, using it as lube as you rubbed him. He threw his head back in ecstasy. You removed your hand. He snapped back to attention, staring at you a bit desperate for relief. 

You giggled, 

“Is this for me, or for her?”

Pointing over your shoulder, you motioned to the paused video. You took your hand away, feigning hurt feelings.

His body arched toward you, missing your touch, and he shook his head, trying to say something. 

“For her? How disappointing,” you pouted, playing with the head of his cock with one finger, drawing circles around the edge. 

Price was saying something muffled through the fabric of your panties, shaking his head, scooting his chair closer with a quick thrust of his hips, making his cock flag from the jolting movement. 

“You know,” you whispered, drawing him in with your quiet tone, “if this was for me, I’d really be looking forward to feeling it inside of me.”

“Mmm. Mm, mm!” He tried to correct you, his shoulders straining as he pulled them forward, struggling against his self-imposed restraint. 

“Oh?” You caressed his face, rubbing your hand through his soft beard, feeling the stubble on his chin, “It is for me after all?”

“Mm hm,” he nodded, leaning his cheek into your palm, eyes hooded with relief. 

You could tell he was enjoying the game. You were enjoying it, too. You could feel how wet you were, watching him gaze at your shining folds hungry. Impatient. 

“In that case…” you straddled him, planting your knees on either side of his hips, trapping his cock between you both. His body felt warm, and his breathing was labored. 

You rubbed your wetness up and down his shaft, spreading yourself along his length, making wet little sounds as you smeared him until he was slippery. 

Carefully, you moved his head into your eager pussy, your walls pounding for him like a heartbeat. Then, you held his throat with your hand, forcing him to look at you. 

“You don’t get to come until I tell you to. Do you understand, soldier?”

“Mm, hm,” he nodded, rolling in the ecstasy of your tight cunt. 

“Good, boy.”

[reflectionsofacreator]

Unfortunately he wasn’t alone, as evidenced by the frayed red beanie that hid a mop of tangled black hair behind a half brick wall, and that low low whisper against the back of his mind.  “A ha!” Ellie Nightingale shouted, and vaulted over the brick wall to point at him dramatically. “It’s you!” “It’s me,” Jason agreed, and tilted his head curiously. “What do you want?”  “So you’re the guy who’s dating Dani,” she said, punctuated by an obnoxious pop of chewing gum and completely ignoring his question. Jason let his head fall back slightly and prayed for strength. He didn’t believe in god, except when it came to dealing with Little Shits of siblings.  Ellie cackled and clapped her hands maniacally. “Oooh, and you’ve got Dani’s coffee too.”  “Hi,” Jason said, cause he was going to try and be nice. “You must be Ellie.”  “Gimmie.” She said, and reached for Dani’s coffee.  “Ey, no, this isn’t for you!” Jason yelped, and lifted it up too high for her to reach. She glared at him, then jumped up to try and get at it, only to hang from his forearm. She was … light. Too light, for a kid her age and size. She was what, thirteen at most? She could’ve fought Tim for shrimpy sizes at that age.  “C’mon!” She whined, kicking her feet slightly before dropping down with a slight thud. “Jerk.”  “And here I was going to offer to buy you your own,” Jason snarked, and smirked when Ellie’s blue eyes widened and turned calculating.  “Oh yeah? What’s your angle, huh?” She demanded, and it was impressive how light she kept her tone, like she was just joking around, but Jason could hear the thread of hardness in her voice. It wasn’t for nothing that the girl had gotten on with the rest of the street kids, and she fit in with them more than her story said she should.  “A glowing review for your sister?” Jason tried, trying to sound sheepish. He wasn't, but he needed to make a good impression. Aaand maybe if he kept telling himself that it would turn true, just like all those stories about gold under rainbows.   “… Get me a muffin too, and I’ll think about it,” Ellie sniffed. “One of those giant ones, with the chocolate chips.”  “Deal.” 

or

Jason gets to meet Ellie and learns more about the Nightingales, while Red Hood and Phantom learn about some trouble brewing.

--dry wine rebirth, ch 2: taking chances

My fics are currently on lockdown and only available to registered users; if you need one, I have invites.

[redroomreflections]

Threads of A Promise - The Loud House One Shot

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!reader

This is a story directly tied to my fic The Loud House on a03

W/c:6.2k

Summary: Natasha and R are a few years into marriage and experience loss and grief.

Note: this is a glimpse into their earlier years of marriage. a time R has mentioned before.

Trigger warning: mentions of blood. miscarriage. pregnancy

Note: This is a super angsty one-shot. 

"Yes, I've already informed Mr. Davis about the new evidence. We'll review it before the meeting at 10 a.m.," You said, your voice calm and efficient. "Thank you, Susan. See you then." You confirmed as you stood at the counter, slicing fresh vegetables for your breakfast scramble, while Natasha stirred eggs and bacon in a sizzling pan. The smell of cooking filled the air, blending with the quiet sounds of the slow morning routine. You glanced up from your chopping, a small smile on your lips. You loved watching her concentrate on something as simple as cooking. 

“I have back-to-back meetings today,” You sighed as you set your cell phone on the counter. 

“Sounds like a busy morning,” Natasha commented as she reached into the fridge to grab bell peppers for you to dice. You hum in acknowledgment. You passed her the things you’d already chopped to get started on something else. 

"I’m heading to the shelter after work today," You said casually. "They need extra hands for the evening shift."

Natasha turned, a curious look on her face. "Volunteering again? You don’t quit," she said. "You’re going to tire yourself out.” 

You paused, realizing how packed your schedule had become lately. "I know, but it’s important to me," you replied, glancing at Natasha with guilt. "And it’s just a few hours. I’ll be home before dinner. Brandon has Willow for the day. We’re free tonight."

Natasha nodded, her expression softening. "I know you care. Just don’t forget to take care of yourself too."

You smiled gratefully at her, appreciating her understanding. "I won’t forget.”

“Speaking of not forgetting, you’ve set time aside for the insemination appointment tomorrow, right?” Natasha turned off the stove, maneuvering around you to place an omelet on each plate.

“Insemination appointment?” You narrowed your eyes, a flicker of concern crossing your face. “Right, what time is that again?” you asked, trying to hide the uncertainty in your voice. 

Natasha paused, noticing your hesitation. She reached over to gently squeeze your hand. “It’s at 9 a.m. I mentioned it last week, remember?”

You nodded slowly, the memory coming back to you. “Right, 9 a.m.,” You repeated, trying to reassure both Natasha and yourself. “It’s stored up here.” You knocked on your head. You grabbed a protein shake from the fridge and cracked it open. Natasha watched you for a few seconds more. 

“You don’t sound so enthused about it,” She pointed out. “It’s not like you to forget something as important as that. If you’re having second thoughts about us having a baby we can-” 

Natasha’s words hung in the air, her concern palpable. You paused, setting down the protein shake and turning to face her fully. The mix of emotions — nerves, excitement, and a touch of apprehension — played across your features.

“It’s not that,” You began softly, reaching out to take Natasha’s hands in yours. “I want this more than anything. It’s just… everything feels so overwhelming sometimes. Between work, volunteering, and now this…” Your voice trailed off, unsure how to articulate the jumble of emotions swirling inside you. “This being our second round. It just feels…” You stepped closer to her as she reached out her arms for you. 

Natasha’s expression softened, her thumb gently stroking your hand. “We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready,” she said quietly, her love and understanding evident in her eyes.

You shook your head, squeezing her hands reassuringly. “No, I am ready. I know I am. It’s just a lot to take in, you know?” You admitted, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders as you spoke your truth. “I want this for us. We talked about it.”

“And it was my idea in the first place,” Natasha mentioned. “I don’t want you to feel pressured. If a baby isn’t something you want we can just shelve it or reschedule.” 

Natasha’s voice was calm and steady, her concern evident as she watched you closely. Her willingness to accommodate your feelings touched you deeply. 

“I appreciate that,” You replied sincerely, your eyes meeting hers with gratitude. “But I want this, Natasha. I really do. I may be nervous, but I’ve never been surer about anything in my life.”

Natasha smiled warmly, pulling you into a tight hug. “Then that’s all that matters,” she murmured against your ear, her arms holding you close.

“I will be at the appointment,” You said pointedly as you pulled away. You sat on the stool right next to her. 

“What appointment?” Brandon your brother asked as he carried a half-dressed Willow into the kitchen. He shook his head. He didn’t have the time to question it. He reached over to your plate, scooping a mouthful of eggs.“Sorry, we’re running late for preschool. I have class in about forty minutes so we have to rush. Can one of you tell her to put her shoes on?” He begged knowing she would listen to you. 

“Hi, Mama,” Willow waved as Brandon set her down on her feet. She raced straight for Natasha and held her arms out expectantly. 

Natasha smiled warmly, scooping Willow up into her arms. “Hey, sweetie! Let’s get those shoes on, okay?”

You chuckled softly, watching the familiar scene unfold. “We’ve got it covered, Brandon. Go ahead, we’ll take care of the shoes and school.”

Brandon nodded gratefully, quickly grabbing his things before heading toward the door. “Thanks, guys! See you later, Willow. Love you!”

“Bye, Daddy!” Willow called out cheerfully, wiggling her toes as Natasha gently slipped on her shoes.

Natasha glanced over at you with a fond smile. “Looks like we’re on shoe duty,” she teased gently, her eyes sparkling with affection. 

You nodded, feeling a warm sense of contentment settle over you as you helped Willow get ready for her day. Moments like these reminded you of the family you were building together. Soon there would be two little people running around. It didn’t sound so bad. 

***********

"I know you've been worried," You murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "About whether I'm still... in this."

Natasha tightened her hold on you, rubbing her fingers across your bare skin. "I... I just want this so much for us," she admitted quietly. 

"Natasha, I am in this," You reassured, your words steady and earnest. "I want a baby too. You’ve never had to convince me. Not truly. Having a family with you is a dream. Whatever that looks like for us. We will get there.” 

Natasha rested her chin on your shoulder, her breath warm against your neck. "I know," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "It's just... sometimes I worry that I'm not doing enough, that I can't give you everything you deserve."

"You give me everything," You said firmly, your eyes locking with Natasha's. "I don’t want you to doubt yourself or worry.” 

Natasha pressed a kiss to your forehead. She felt more at ease about this entire thing. 

*************

Coming to the doctor’s office isn’t always the breath of fresh air you wish it to be. You dislike hospitals and by extension this clinic. The examination room is cool and sterile, the hum of medical equipment a constant background noise. You lay on the padded table, your hand clasped tightly in Natasha's. You tried to think on the bright side of all this. You would be pregnant. There would be a happy baby with your skin and Natasha’s smile. Your treasure at the end of the rainbow. 

Dr. Patel entered the room, her demeanor calm and professional. "Y/n, Natasha, good to see you both," she greeted warmly. "Are you ready to get started?"

You nodded, your grip on Natasha's hand tightening slightly. "Yes, we're ready."

Natasha gave you an encouraging smile. "We're in this together," she whispered, kissing your knuckles. All you needed was her comfort right now. 

Dr. Patel moved to the end of the table, preparing the necessary instruments. "This will be a quick procedure," she explained. "I’ll walk you through each step as we go."

You took a deep breath, focusing on Natasha's reassuring presence by her side. "We've got this," you murmured, more to yourself than anyone else.

Natasha leaned in closer, her thumb gently stroking your hand. "We do," she affirmed softly.

You took another deep breath as the nurse positioned the ultrasound equipment on your abdomen. The cool gel and gentle pressure of the transducer were a familiar sensation, grounding you in the moment. This was the easy part. 

After a bunch of medical stuff you’d rather not remember you could hear the murmur of the staff talking with each other. 

"The embryos are ready," the embryologist announced, handing the catheter containing the precious cargo to Dr. Patel.

She began the procedure, her movements precise and efficient. "I'm going to insert the catheter now," she explained. "You might feel a little pressure, but it shouldn’t be painful."

You nodded, your eyes never leaving Natasha's. As the procedure progressed, the room seemed to shrink around you, the outside world fading away. It was just the two of you, your hopes and dreams intertwined in this pivotal moment.

Natasha leaned closer, her voice a soothing whisper. "We’re almost there, love. Just breathe."

You nodded, her grip tightening as Dr. Patel carefully inserted the catheter through your cervix and into your uterus. The room was silent, save for the soft hum of the ultrasound machine, as everyone focused on the delicate task.

After a few minutes, Dr. Patel finished the insemination and stepped back. "All done," she said with a reassuring smile. "Now we wait. I’ll schedule a follow-up appointment in two weeks to check on everything."

You exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. "The second time’s the charm right?” You felt Natasha’s gentle kiss against your forehead. 

*********

Two lines. Two. The test was positive. Pregnant. Natasha’s baby was inside you. You were pregnant. The thought left you breathless and giddy. Here you were at home on a Monday afternoon, the only time you'd get alone in the house, staring at two pregnancy tests. You’d waited three weeks. It was hard to satiate Natasha's curiosity, but you wanted to be sure this time. And now, here you were, with two sticks confirming your dreams. You slid down onto the bathroom floor, overwhelmed. You could hardly believe it. There was a baby inside you.

There are so many people you want to call right now but you’d rather keep it to yourself. You want Natasha to be the first person to know. 

“Oh God!” You gasped, holding the sticks in your hands. You’re going to be a mom. You’re going to have a baby. There’s life growing inside of you.

A whirlwind of emotions surged through you—excitement, joy, and a touch of anxiety. The reality of it all was immense. Would you be a good mother? Could you balance your career and this new life you were bringing into the world? The questions swirled in your mind, but the overwhelming feeling was one of pure, unadulterated happiness.

You thought about Natasha's reaction. Her eyes lit up, her hands gently touching your stomach, the way she would pull you into a tight embrace, whispering promises of a beautiful future together. The thought made your heart swell with love and anticipation.

You stood up slowly, still clutching the pregnancy tests, and looked at your reflection in the mirror. A wide smile spread across your face, despite the tears that began to blur your vision. This was real. This was happening. You were going to be a mom. You and the love of your life are going to have a baby. 

*********

So you may have gone overboard with preparation. You only had a few hours until Natasha was home, but you wanted to make this special. You’d traveled to Target and then a few other stores to find the perfect little trinkets for a pregnancy announcement. 

Back home, you laid out your finds on the kitchen table: a tiny pair of Avengers-themed baby booties, the two pregnancy tests you’d taken earlier, and a baby onesie that read "Future Avenger in Training." You smiled, knowing how much Natasha would love the references. 

You set to work, arranging everything in a cute gift box. You carefully wrapped the baby booties in tissue paper and placed them at the bottom. On top, you added the pregnancy tests. Finally, you laid the onesie on top, its message visible as soon as the box was opened.

As you worked, a wave of excitement washed over you, momentarily pushing aside your earlier anxiety. This was your moment, and you wanted it to be perfect. You added a note to the box, written in your neatest handwriting:

"To my amazing wife, the strongest Avenger, and soon-to-be mom. I can't wait to embark on this incredible journey with you. Love, y/n."

With the box prepared, you set it in the living room, positioning it where Natasha would see it as soon as she walked in. You took a step back, admiring your handiwork. It was simple yet heartfelt, and you knew Natasha would appreciate the thought and effort you put into it.

Now, all that was left to do was wait. You glanced at the clock, feeling the minutes tick by slowly. Your heart raced with anticipation as you imagined Natasha's reaction. Would she cry? Laugh? Probably both, knowing her.

Finally, you heard the familiar sound of the front door opening. Natasha was home. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself as you prepared to share the most wonderful news. You could hear the subtle footsteps from Natasha as she shuffled through the foyer, dropping her keys in the bowl, before she made her way through the house. She didn’t even know you were home so she takes a little more time than usual. Finally, you became impatient. 

“Hey, babe,” You called out to her. “Can you come here?”

You heard the light shuffling of footsteps as Natasha made her way to the living room. She paused in the doorway, taking in the scene before her. The small gift box sat on the coffee table, your handwriting visible on the note.

"Y/N, what is this?" She asked, her voice laced with curiosity and a hint of amusement. “I didn’t know you’d be home so soon. I would have picked up food or something.”

“I’m not hungry,” You couldn't contain your grin as you motioned for her to open the box. "Just a little something I put together," you said coyly. "I think you'll like it."

Natasha picked up the box, her gaze darting between you and the gift. She read the note first, glancing at you with tears in her eyes before she opened the box. Her gasp was telling and her reaction was instant. She moved to hug you, pulling you tightly against her, and kissing your head. 

"Oh, y/n," she choked out, her emotions getting the best of her. "I can't believe it. We're going to be moms. Are you happy?"

You clung to her, your tears threatening to spill. "I know," you said, your voice thick with emotion. "I'm so happy, Tasha."

She pulled back slightly, her eyes shining with tears and pure joy. She cupped your cheek, stroking it gently with her thumb.

“We’re going to have a baby,” Natasha said. “Your belly’s going to get so big.” 

"I know," you giggled, imagining the future. "But it'll be worth it. To see you and our baby...it'll all be worth it."

She laughed, her face radiating pure joy. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” She hugged you to her, lifting you off your feet and spinning in a circle. "I love you, I love you so much," She said.

"I love you too," You couldn't hold back the happy tears. "We're going to have a baby, Tasha."

"I can't believe it," She said, kissing you again. "I can't wait to tell everyone."

You couldn't stop smiling. This was truly the beginning of the rest of your lives.

********

After a lot of prompting, you and Natasha decided to keep everything a secret until the second trimester. Which was a feat within itself. There was so much you wanted to say. Your family was huge and so was Natasha’s. The entire Avengers team always knew all of your business but this time was different. You hadn’t even told Brandon yet as you wanted to keep this just between the two of you. 

You and Natasha had your little secret. A baby. Well, not a baby yet. 

“Our baby’s the size of a blueberry right now,” Natasha mentioned to you as you brushed your teeth. After a bout of morning sickness, you needed to feel clean. Your first appointment was today. Hopefully, you’d get to hear the baby’s heartbeat. “Maybe that’s what we should call him. Blueberry.” 

You smiled around your toothbrush, spitting the paste out into the sink. You rinsed and turned to look at Natasha. "That's actually a really cute name," you said. "It's unique and special. How are you so sure our baby is a boy?"

She shrugged, leaning against the doorway. "Just a feeling," she replied, a soft smile gracing her lips. "A mother's intuition."

"Well, you'll be the most badass boy mama there ever was," You leaned up to kiss her. 

“How do you like the name James?” She asked. 

“You’re already thinking of names too? You’re light years ahead of me,” You laughed. Natasha smiled, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you close. "James Romanoff-L/N," you said, testing the name out. "I love it."

"Me too," She agreed, kissing the side of your head. 

"What if Blueberry is a girl though? Would be pretty hard to walk around with that name."

Natasha chuckled. "Well, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it," she replied. "But whatever we choose, I know they'll be perfect."

An hour later you’re lying in a familiar position, the transducer against your belly as you listen to OB/GYN talk. 

“You’re seven weeks today right?” Dr. Wendell estimated "According to your chart and baby's size."

Natasha looks at you, nodding her head. This is it. Your first sonogram.

She squeezes your hand, her eyes never leaving the screen. "This is so surreal," she whispered, her gaze transfixed on the black-and-white image.

You grinned, the excitement palpable. "I know," you murmured, your eyes locked on the grainy image.

You and Natasha both watched as the doctor maneuvered the transducer across your stomach, searching for the best angle. "There we go," she said after a moment, her finger tracing the tiny speck on the screen. "Your baby."

You gasped, the realization hitting you. "Our baby," you breathed, your heart swelling with love and joy. "Wow."

Natasha pressed a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, her eyes glistening with tears. "I can't believe we're really doing this," she said, her voice thick with emotion.

This picture was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. 

“In about 4 weeks you will be able to see the sex of the baby,” Dr. Wendell informed you. “You guys can come back then. For now, everything looks healthy.” 

"This is really happening," Natasha whispered, her eyes filled with wonder and joy. "We're going to be moms."

You leaned into her side, basking in the warmth of her presence. This was the happiest you’d ever been. 

********

Of course, with pregnancy comes pregnancy symptoms. Morning sickness, sensitive breasts, and fatigue. The fatigue had to be the worst part. You could fall asleep anywhere these days: at your desk, as soon as you got home, even in the shower. It’s a miracle you’d been able to keep up with everything. Which is why you said yes to tonight. Tony and the rest of the team were having a family dinner, and you wanted to be there. You wanted everything to be normal for you.

As you prepared for the evening, you felt a wave of exhaustion wash over you. You glanced at the clock, wishing for a quick nap but knowing you didn’t have time. Instead, you splashed cold water on your face, hoping it would give you the boost you needed to get through the night.

Natasha found you in the bathroom, her concerned eyes meeting yours in the mirror. “You okay?” she asked, wrapping her arms around you from behind.

“Just tired,” you admitted, leaning into her embrace. “But I really want to go tonight. I miss everyone.”

Natasha kissed your temple gently. “You sure? We can stay home and rest if you need to.”

You shook your head, turning to face her. “No, I want to go. I need a bit of normalcy. Besides, I miss seeing you with the team. It’ll be fun.”

Natasha studied your face for a moment before nodding. “Alright, but promise me you’ll let me know if you need to leave early. Your health comes first.”

“I promise,” you said, smiling up at her. 

“You’re starting to show,” She smirked. 

“Am I? It just looks like I ate a big breakfast,” You grinned as she rested her hand on your belly. 

"You're beautiful," she murmured, her hand resting protectively over your growing bump.

The dinner party was just the kind of escape you needed. Seeing all your friends, laughing, eating, and dancing made you happy . Keeping baby Romanoff a secret for a little while longer would be a feat but you could do it. 

The drive to Tony’s was filled with your usual banter, but you couldn’t ignore the growing fatigue. By the time you arrived, you were already craving your bed. Still, you put on a brave face, determined to enjoy the evening.

The warmth and laughter that greeted you as you walked into the compound made the effort worthwhile. It felt good to be surrounded by friends who were more like family.

As the night progressed, you found yourself slipping into conversations, laughing at Tony’s jokes, and watching Natasha interact with the team. She was in her element, and seeing her so happy filled your heart with joy.

But the fatigue was relentless. You found a quiet corner to sit down, hoping to rest for a moment without anyone noticing. Natasha, ever-attentive, quickly picked up on your exhaustion and made her way over to you.

“Hey, you holding up okay?” she asked, concern etched in her features.

“Yeah, just needed a breather,” You admitted, rubbing your tired eyes.

Natasha nodded and took your hand. “How about we sneak away early? I’m sure Tony will understand.”

You hesitated for a moment, glancing around at your friends. “No, I’m fine. I’m just going to go into the kitchen and drink some water. I want another hour.” 

“If you’re sure,” Natasha looked at you suspiciously. 

“I’m positive,” You nodded. 

Natasha helped you up and watched as you quietly walked into the kitchen. In the kitchen, you grabbed a glass and filled your cup with ice. The water was refreshing and freezing cold. Just as you liked it. The hot flashes were no joke either. 

“I believe congratulations are in order,” Wanda’s voice startled you as she entered the kitchen. 

“Wanda? How did you know?”

“I’m a witch remember?” She smiled. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell the others.” 

You chuckled, feeling relief at her promise. “Thanks, Wanda. It’s still early, and I want to keep it between Natasha and me for a bit longer.”

Wanda nodded understandingly. “Of course. How are you feeling?”

You took a deep breath, leaning against the counter. “Excited, anxious, exhausted… all of it. The symptoms are hitting me hard, but I’m managing.”

Wanda’s eyes softened with empathy. “If you need any support, magical or otherwise, you know you can count on me.”

“Thank you, Wanda. That means a lot,” you said sincerely.

She gave you a reassuring smile. “You’re going to be a great mom, y/n. And Natasha will be an amazing co-parent.”

Hearing those words, you felt a wave of emotion wash over you. “I hope so. We’ve wanted this for so long.”

Wanda placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You two are one of the strongest couples I know. You’ll handle whatever comes your way.”

You nodded, feeling bolstered by her words. “That means a lot, Wanda.”You smiled and took another sip of your water, the coldness helping to steady you. 

Together, you walked back into the living room. Natasha’s eyes met yours, her concern melting into a smile as she saw you were feeling better. You gave her a reassuring nod and rejoined the group, determined to make the most of the evening with your chosen family.

********

At night, as your pregnancy progressed, Natasha’s obsession with your baby became more apparent. You were barely showing and it was all she could think about. Whenever it was time for bed she’d spend a few minutes massaging your belly and grinning at you. "Blueberry is still a blueberry," You mentioned to her. "He's not going to turn into a watermelon overnight."

"I know, but I love feeling him," Natasha said, her voice full of awe. "And besides, blueberry is growing."

"Just barely," You joked. "I'm not even ten weeks yet."

Natasha chuckled, placing a soft kiss against your stomach. "Well, he's still the cutest little blueberry I've ever seen," she said.

"He is, isn't he?"

"How are you feeling?" Natasha said as she came up to look into your eyes. When her hand touches your breast accidentally she quickly apologizes. You've become way too sensitive and any form of touch, accidental or not practically sends you into shock.

"Sensitive," You answer truthfully. "I think the baby is making them grow."

"I've noticed," She smirks. "No morning sickness?"

"There's always that but it's manageable," You shrug.

She kisses your cheek, hugging you to her. "Good," she whispers, her hands coming down to rest on your stomach again. "I want the both of you healthy."

"I'm trying my best," You reassure her.

"I know," She said. "But you're still my responsibility."

"Oh, is that what we're calling it?"

"Yes, I'm the boss," She kissed you softly.

"Well, boss, can you cut the lights out, I'd like to sleep now," You closed your eyes.

"As you wish,"  She turns off the lights before spooning you. She holds you close, one arm wrapped securely around your waist, her hand resting on your stomach. "Sleep well, my loves."

*********

Nine weeks, two days, and five hours. That’s how long you got to spend with blueberry safely housed inside of you. You’d woken up that morning like any other day. It’s a PTO day. You, Natasha, and Willow were supposed to spend it in the park. When you opened your eyes, you felt an unsettling feeling in the base of your belly. A slight ache you’d never experienced before. Dr. Wendell and Dr. Patel mentioned there would be some cramping but this felt different. The moment you felt a slight wetness between your thighs you knew. 

You slipped from the bed, hoping not to wake Natasha, as you rushed into your ensuite bathroom. 

In one swift motion, you'd thrown the toilet lid up and pushed your panties down.

It was too late.

You'd caught sight of the bright red stain on the once pristine white cotton and immediately burst into tears.

This was all the confirmation you needed. It was over. Blueberry was gone.

Spotting is normal too. You’d read countless online articles that confirmed this very thing. This isn't spotting. You reach blindly for toilet paper, tearing off a decent amount, before you wipe. It won't stop. There's so much. So much.

You're shaking as you kick your underwear to the side, the stain obvious now. You can't help but cry as you stumble over to the bathtub. You know you should get Natasha. You should yell out to her and she would come running. Instead, you lock the door. You turn on the shower and position yourself against the bottom of the tub. The dull ache is now stronger. There's nothing anyone can do for you.

You don't remember how long you sat under the warm spray of the water. The tears wouldn’t stop. They keep flowing like a never-ending stream. You couldn’t breathe.

Outside of the bathroom, Natasha awakened to find your side of the bed empty. She hummed contently as she stretched before she reached out to pull you closer. Only you aren't there.

"Y/n?" Natasha called out, her eyes searching the room. When you didn’t respond, she frowned. "Y/n? Babe, where are you?"

Natasha pulled herself out of bed, her brow furrowed as she searched the room. The bathroom door was closed, and she could hear the faint sound of running water.

"Y/n?" Natasha tried the doorknob, but it was locked.

Natasha frowned, concern etched on her face. "Y/n, open the door," she called out, her voice slightly muffled by the door.

There was no answer.

Natasha jiggled the handle again, more forcefully this time. You never truly lock doors. Natasha doesn't want to break the door down. She needed you to open it.

"Babe, please, open the door," Natasha pleaded, her voice laced with worry. "You're scaring me."

"Go away," You yelled back weakly. "I'm fine. Just please go away." You don't want her to see you like this. You don't want her to know that you lost the baby. You don't want to disappoint her. You couldn't be the one who failed.

"I'm not going anywhere," Natasha replied, her tone firm. "Now, open the door."

"No!" You cried out, your voice was raw with emotion. "Please, just leave me alone."

"Y/n," Natasha's voice was soft, but you can hear the underlying concern. "Please, just let me in. Whatever it is, we can get through it together." Natasha doesn't wait a moment longer. She squared her shoulders and kicked the door down. The sound of wood splintering is the only sound you can hear as the door gives way.

"Oh, y/n," Natasha gasped as she took in the scene before her. The tub was half-full of water and the bottom was stained red. Her eyes flew to you half awake and lying tiredly against the cold tile. You're sitting in a pool of blood. Natasha immediately rushed over to you, her eyes filled with concern and worry. "Y/n, baby. I think we need to go to a hospital. " She swallowed thickly.

"No," You choke out, shaking your head. "No, I hate hospitals."

"There's too much blood, y/n," Natasha attempted to convince you.

"I'll be fine," You said, your voice trembling slightly. "Just need to stay in the shower a little longer."

Natasha shook her head. "We don't have any longer. You can't stay like this. Baby, I can't let you stay like this." She turned off the water, calling out for Brandon as she began to scoop you up. You crumple in her arms, whimpering at the pain you feel from the movement. "I'm sorry baby. I know it hurts. I'm going to take you to a hospital."

"Nat," You mumbled.

"What is it, baby? What can I do?" She asked, her eyes searching yours.

"Don't let go."

"Never."

"What's going on?" Brandon tiredly stepped into your ensuite. He didn’t need to ask as he spotted the blood. "Holy fuck, what do you need me to do? I'll drive you."

"No, you have Willow," Natasha murmured. She was unsure what to do but she knew she needed to act fast. "I am going to drive her. Just call ahead and let them know we're coming."

Brandon nodded, already heading out the door. "Will do."

"I've got you," Natasha whispered as she carried you through the apartment. She held you tightly, her arms wrapped protectively around you.

"I'm sorry," You whimpered into her neck tiredly. You were in so much pain. The cramps were excruciating.

"It's not your fault, baby. None of this is your fault," Natasha reassured you, her voice filled with emotion.

"I'm sorry," You whispered again. It was all you could say.

"Shh, don't apologize," Natasha soothed. "You did nothing wrong."

Natasha managed to get you into her car without causing too much distress. Your clothes were soaked through with blood, but you didn't care. She just needed to get help. 

***********

These kinds of things happen they say. There’s not always an answer. It’s crazy how just a few weeks ago you’d gotten a heartbeat. You’d been able to see your baby’s tiny little body on a screen and now nothing. You feel empty. Stepping back into your home, to no baby, no future. 

It's like everything has changed. It's as if the color has faded and the world has lost its luster. Everything feels hollow. There's a deep emptiness inside of you.

"Let's get you to bed," Natasha murmured, her arms tight around you as she guided you to the bedroom. After spending three days in the hospital coming home felt weird. She'd asked Brandon to hire cleaners to come and tidy everything. She'd paid them a hefty amount to make sure no trace or memory of what happened that day was here.

You were quiet as Natasha helped you into bed, her hands gentle as she pulled the covers over you. You lay there, staring blankly at the wall, the ache in your chest only growing with each passing moment.

"Do you need anything?" She asked. Her voice was soft and soothing, but you couldn't bring yourself to respond.

You didn't deserve this. This is a punishment. A test. For what you can't say but that's the only explanation.

You hadn't spoken since before she brought you to the hospital. You couldn't bring yourself to speak. Natasha had been by your side the whole time, never leaving you alone. She'd held your hand, rubbed your back, and even sang softly to you. But nothing she did seemed to reach you. She felt hopeless.

She took one last look at you before she stood.

"I want the ultrasound picture," You requested quietly.

"Of course, love?" She searched your nightstand for it. It pained her to look at it too.

"And the little booties,"

Natasha handed you the photo and booties, watching as you cradled them close to your chest. She could see the tears welling in your eyes.

"Can I hold you?" She asked. You hadn't been open to her touch and comfort so it was a bit of a long shot.

You nodded, holding your arms out for her. She crawled into bed, curling up beside you. You leaned into her, resting your head on her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around you, pulling you closer.

"I'm sorry, Nat," You began. "I'm sorry I lost our baby."

"Don't apologize, love," Natasha whispered. "This isn't your fault. These things just happen. There was nothing you could have done. I know how much you wanted this. How much we both wanted this." You could try again. That part was left unsaid. Only because she knows you and knew it wouldn't be comforting in the slightest.

"This is the second time," You furrowed your brows. "This was our second try. I did everything right. Right? I took all of my vitamins. I only exercised lightly." You were starting to ramble.

"You were perfect," Natasha reassured you. "You are perfect. This doesn't mean that it will never happen. There's still a chance."

"What if it doesn't happen?" You whispered. You swallowed thickly. "I don't think I want to try again. Please don't make me go through that again."

Natasha stroked your hair, pressing a soft kiss against the top of your head. "Whatever you want, love. I'll support you."

"I'm not sure how to feel," You confessed. "I know I didn't act like it at times. I wanted this baby. I wanted him. He was mine. He was ours. We were so close to our dream."

"We were," Natasha agreed.

"Why is this so hard?" You cried, burying your face into her chest.

"I don't know, love," Natasha soothed, rubbing circles on your back.

"I wanted to welcome him into this world," You sobbed. "We won't get to do that. He won't get to experience anything. His heart was beating and then it stopped. Why? Why did it stop?"

"Shh," Natasha soothed. If she didn't calm you down soon you were going to become hysterical.

"He was a baby. A precious innocent little baby. We made a baby. We were pregnant," You cried, clinging to her. "Why does everything have to be so fucking hard? It's not fair."

"I know, baby. I know," Natasha whispered, stroking your hair. "It's okay. Let it out. Just let it out."

You couldn't stop crying. You sobbed and sobbed.

How could you ever be okay after this? A baby with Natasha was all you wanted. A family with your wife. His heartbeat was the most beautiful music you'd ever heard. And it's gone.

Your cries soon turn into soft whimpers and your whimpers turn into sniffles. The room is silent. Natasha continues to hold you, her arms tight around you.

our little family - a continuation

[the-kr8tor]

TTN oneshot request :): reader who's been invited to one of the parties after Hobie's band gigs. Hobie,being his usual teasing self,tries to make r dance with him to one of the songs that come from the speakers but he can't dance at all,so reader ends up teaching him.

-🎸 anon

Ahhh 🎸 anon!! I love this prompt thank you for sending it 🫶 I changed some things around hope u don't mind ❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.3k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (r is mentioned to wear makeup though) cw drinking, poop jokes lol, TTN! Hobie, TTN! Reader. FLUFF

Thread the Needle Masterlist

TTN oneshots

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You lean against a railing overlooking the spacious backyard. Watching Yuri dismiss the third man who tried his luck tonight is better than any cable tv, she scoffs, waving the disappointed man away with her long nails. Yuri notices you giggling by yourself, she beckons you over to the dance floor with a smile. You shake your head with a laugh, gesturing to your half empty cup. She sighs dramatically, miming a crying face. You blame the booze in her system on why she's so lively. It's a nice change though, you love seeing her prance around the dance floor, looking for a more worthy partner.

The bass booms, playing all the classic punk music in the speakers. The sky is dotted with twinkling stars, cool air blowing past the grassy backyard. Roaming your eyes around the venue, you spot James chatting up a familiar figure, his arm slung comfortably around her shoulders. She laughs at something he said, her curls bouncing on her shoulders. You smile softly, happy for them both.

You turn around to face the inside of the ridiculously huge house. The home is packed with bodies bouncing around, the glass shakes from the loud music blaring inside. You see Ned becoming an unwilling bartender, mixing drinks for everyone after he got a particularly nasty bloody mary from someone who's so drunk they shouldn't even be near the kitchen.

With all the people watching you're doing, there's one person you haven't seen in a while. You wonder what he's up to, hopefully not to sneak behind you to carry and throw you into the icy pool—

“You're not very good at sneaking up on me anymore, Hobs”

Hobie groans right behind you, looking over your shoulder, you smirk at him. “How?” He effortlessly lifts himself up on the railing, arms envelope around you, his chin resting comfortably on your shoulder. You help secure him with your hands around his elbows.

“I can sense you a mile away.” You whisper the next part. “I think I got your spidey senses from hanging around you too much”

“You make it sound like a disease!” The alcohol makes him all gooey inside, just for you. “Y’know I have the cure right here”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Oh? What is it then?” Turning around, you face him fully, his arms never leaving your waist whilst your hands never leave his skin.

Hobie points at his lips quickly before he falls on the ground (like you would even let him fall with your hands holding him steady)

“Here”

“Ah! Is your cure tried and tested? Peer reviewed by scientists?”

“Only one way to find out”

You giggle, meeting him halfway to kiss his lips. He tastes of beer and licorice he's been chewing on since you've arrived at his friend's' house. Your hand blindly slides to the back of his neck, fingers scratching lightly. Hobie smiles into the kiss, his hands tucked into the back pocket of your jeans.

Unfortunately, you need air to survive so you reluctantly pull away. He chases your lips making you peck him thrice to ease his suffering from apparent lack of kisses.

“I think I just overdosed on your cure” you hold him close even with the wooden railing between you.

Hobie chuckles, “You'll be fine” he swipes away the sheen left on your lips.

“So considerate. Where have you been, huh?” You lean close to his ear. “Did you go out and fight crime? Are you okay?”

There's goosebumps on his arms, not from the cold. “Nah, I was in the bathroom, taking a huge dump–”

You clasp your hand over his mouth, Laughing through it. “I literally just ate, babe”

“Just answerin’ your question, Gromit. ‘m being honest it was big,” he measures using his hands, “this big. Record size” Hobie loses his grip on the railing, falling flat on his ass.

“Huh, I see a bigger one right here” you look down, seeing him feign offense with his hand clutching his imaginary pearls.

“I should've thrown you in the pool when I had the chance and then we’ll have a floater” he nonchalantly rests on the grass by his elbows. Looking up at you with a smug grin.

You roll your eyes, walking down the steps to help him up before he gets grass stains all over his leather jacket. Hobie clearly doesn't need your help getting up but he would take any opportunity to hold your hand. Your hands are still slightly cool from the drink, a stark contrast to his warm ones, a welcome difference to the both of you.

Heaving him up, Hobie meets you in a tight embrace, smothering you in his hold; you love it though. Slowly he sways you to the beat of a punk song you recognize from back when you and Hobie were in highschool together. A reminiscent of your younger days with only homework and school to worry about and the deep longing you have for your best friend now turned partner.

If only your younger self could see you now, she’d think you did well for yourself. She'd be proud of all the things you've accomplished with the love of your life with you.

“D’you remember this song?” Hobie whispers in your ear, his piercing kisses the shell of your ear.

“How could I not remember?” You lift your head from the comfort of his chest, eyes staring fondly at Him.

He chuckles, you feel the happiness vibrate from him. “Yeah, but d’you know the backstory?” you shake your head.

“I requested this song to the bloke who was holding us hostage with his shitty songs.” You chortle, Hobie continues his story. “I had to bribe the wanker,” he sighs. “So I could ask you to dance with me.”

Your eyes soften, heat behind your sockets, your hold on him tightens.

“Then I realized I can't fuckin’ dance and I'll make a bloody fool of myself in front of you. So I let the music play and continued to talk to you throughout the party because that was enough for me.” He pauses, your eyes are glossy, glimmering under the porch lights. “Being with you was enough.”

You feel the tears fall so you hide your face on his chest once again, feeling sorry for soaking his shirt, you let your hug tell your feelings.

“Don't hide from me right after I poured my heart out to you.” He laughs, his fingers spread across your nape, rubbing softly, finding you endearing. “C’mon, I need to see my Gromit”

You look up with red eyes, mascara and eyeliner smudged. “Fuck you” you say with tears on your cheeks, trying to sniff it away. But your wide smile and grip on his shirt tells your true feelings. “You're such a little shit”

Hobie laughs loudly, fingertips cleaning away smudged makeup. “Yeah, yeah, but you love this little shit”

You lean up to kiss him, as gentle as he holds you, as affectionate as he loves you.

Sighing, you cup his face. “I do, so much.”

He presses your foreheads together, enough to make tears escape your eyes once again. Hobie's fingers catch them, wiping it away from your skin.

“If you let me teach you will you ask me to dance with you?” Whispering, you loop your arms around his neck, swaying with the beat.

“I might be a lost cause, love.”

“I'm patient, don't worry” you can't seem to keep your lips away from him as you kiss the corner of his lips.

Hobie suddenly pulls away, leading you towards the makeshift dance floor. “Alright then, no time to lose!”

You let him guide you, laughing all the way. He shimmies on the dance floor, long limbs flailing about, eyes staying on you.

You've got your work cut out for you.

[natimiles]

Winter Cuddles (Arthur x reader)

Summary: With coffee in one hand and hot chocolate in the other, you walk up to your boyfriend’s bedroom for cuddles.

Words: 465

Tags: fluffy; established relationship; cuddling; gender neutral reader.

Notes: THIS IS POST #1000! 🎇🥳 Heavily inspired by @the-ghost-duck’s idea about cuddling Arthur, Vincent, and Theo during winter. It’s only Arthur for now; who knows what else I can do later. Despite it being summer where I live, I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so here we are!

The snow falls outside, blanketing the entire garden in white. During winter, your and Sebastian’s workload decreases slightly as there’s less maintenance required for the outdoor area. This gives you more time with your lover, and that’s precisely what you plan to do now that your chores are complete for the day.

With coffee in one hand and hot chocolate in the other, you walk up to your boyfriend’s bedroom. You don’t knock; he already expects you every night. You open the door with your elbow and close it with your foot. Arthur must’ve been tired of being at his desk, as now he’s sitting on the loveseat with his back against the armrest. He turns to look at you entering his bedroom, and an amused smile spreads across his face when he sets his blue eyes on you: both hands busy with the mugs, in your pajamas, and a blanket thrown over your head like a giant cape that slides on the floor while you walk toward him.

Dating a detective genius has its perks, and you don’t have to ask for him to understand — especially because you’ve been doing this almost every night since the winter began. You just stop in front of him, and he shifts to make room for you. You make yourself comfortable by his side, handing him his mug. Throwing the blanket over the two of you, you lift your legs onto his lap and snuggle closer to his warm body.

“Thanks, luv.” He smiles tenderly and kisses the crown of your head.

“You’re welcome.” You kiss his cheek and sigh, leaning your head on his shoulder to watch him go back to his previous task.

Propping the papers over your legs now, he resumes reviewing what he’s spent the whole day writing, adding details, scratching out what he thinks isn’t good, continuing his intriguing story while sipping his coffee, and feeling his whole body warming with your presence.

You just stay there, reading his story in silence, snuggling closer every minute, drinking your hot chocolate, and nuzzling your face into the hollow of his neck just to see him wriggling and chuckling.

“Luv, you know I can’t concentrate when you’re being this cute.”

“Oh, what a shame,” you say with a mischievous smile.

He leaves a breathy laugh and threads his fingers through your hair, kissing your forehead, the tip of your nose, and then your lips. He doesn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss, pouring all his love and adoration for you into the action.

The mugs are placed on his coffee table and forgotten there, along with his papers. However, the blanket and the warm feeling of your bodies remain as you both enjoy each other’s love and make the most of this cold but cozy night.

Masterlists

[quaissants]

THREE    ୨୧    ERIC SOHN

cast. boyfriend! eric x gn! mc  ༝  pantone. college au .. established relationship .. hurt w/o comfort  ༝  length. 516  ༝  cw(s). arguments .. swearing .. emotional / mental suffocation

tfw. this is what listening to in my dreams on loop and reading lang leav does. ooh! i don’t know if matty remembers but this was meant to be the original reason in the last word.. aha.. ha..

someone once wrote that communication is key to a happy relationship. so you took it as an assurance that you're going to do the right thing. but after almost an hour of going back and forth with your lover, your belief in those words is wavering.

“i just want to spend some time with you, is that too much to ask?” you argue weakly, shaky fingers fiddling with the charm hung on your chain. it was meant to symbolize a promise; supposed to make you feel safe. but now, pinch by pinch, it's suffocating you.

“no it's not, but the thing is we can do that another day.” eric pauses to slide his foot in his sneaker, the one he never bothers to undo the laces beforehand, even though doing so would make his life easier. “right now, i want to go hang out with my friends.”

“okay, fine.”

defeat no longer tastes sour on your tongue, so you easily swallow it and turn around. after taking a few steps towards your bedroom (because he's no longer around enough to keep his claim on the space), you hear him call your name. and though you shouldn't, you shift on your heel to face him.

“come on bumblebee, don't be like this..” the weirdest thing is he actually holds his arms out; as if he believes you'll fall into his embrace.

disbelief tickles you, prompting laughter to slip from your lips. “like what? like an idiot who actually hoped that by telling their boyfriend how they feel, they'll be heard and understood?”

“what are you talking about? i always listen to you.” eric retorts, arms now hanging by his sides, and brows furrowed to meet in the middle.

“yet you don't try to understand how i feel! what hurts even more than that is the fact that i'm the one who always adjusts to make this work. i'm the one who pretends that constantly being blown off by their boyfriend because he has some project or test to review for is okay. i'm the one who does nothing but put a band aid over the repetitive stab to my heart whenever someone has the fucking guts to flirt with you, even though i'm right there.

and now that you finally have a day off, you actually expect me to be okay with the fact that you want to spend it with the people you're with every single day, rather than the person who has sacrificed time, rest, friendships, even my own sanity, to be with you.”

after pouring everything out, you feel like a weight has been lifted off your exhausted body. your worn soul no longer feels like it's cracking under the pressure that comes as an accessory in the dating a ‘golden’ boy pack. you're almost free—you just have one more question.

“you always choose them.” with your last speck of hope, you tug that loose thread that's been dangling at the forefront of your mind for far too long. “what about me, am i not a priority?”

in his hesitation you found your answer.

𓆩♡𓆪  ─┈  taglist. @stealanity​​ @strxwberry-skiess​​ — send an ask to be added !

[milesonthenet]

Earthspark has the potential to do great things.

Welcome to the House of Milesverse, and today we will be reviewing Transformers: Earthspark. Releasing in 2023, Earthspark is a 3D-animated Transformers cartoon. Like many series before it, it takes place in its own continuity. Interestingly, it is also not that far removed from the first series.

First, i have to apologize for putting it off for a while. I was set to do this earlier, but another topic just grabbed me at that moment. It felt more interesting to pull my thoughts together for that one. I hope you guys are still able to bear with me through this, though.

And without further ado? We jump in.

What is Earthspark about?

Earthspark is a unique Transformers series, in a way. Earthspark addresses the creation of the first 'earth-born' transformers. These are called Terrans, and they are the first of their generation. They are quite the anomaly, even gaining a different power source, as well.

Earthspark's story is also remarkable for adapting a post-war setting. Unlike prior series, it is not just an "Autobots versus Decepticons" story. Optimus Prime won, and now he's working alongside Megatron. Most of the 'conflict' in the series stems from escaped decepticon criminals, or other monsters of the week.

Or you know, Doctor Mandroid, the aptly named cartoonish villain. This second-rate Doctor Arkeville is the series' main antagonist. He represents the hatred against Transformers taken to the xenophobic extreme. After all, he's the type of guy to replace his arm with a cybertronian arm. I still do not know how he manages to lift that thing.

The series is also similar to the Generation 1 universe. The flashbacks do a lot to showcase the similarities, right down to animation styles. It is easy to see it as some sort of offshoot sequel, but I do not imagine there's much to actually focus on beyond being an homage.

Meet the Terrans:

As mentioned above, The Terrans are the evolution of Transformers. They are a new generation that's only just recently been born on Earth. They also act as the main viewpoint characters in the series. They are the fresh eyes from which we, as the audience, see the Transformers' stories unfold in a post-war setting.

The Terrans are the product of two children: Robby and Mo Malto. They act as usual human characters who tag along with the Transformers. Their contact with the Emberstone created the five main Terrans.

It's important to note that the Terrans are very 'human-like' in a sense most cybertronians are not. Their experiences make them more akin to awkward, giant robot children. This is important with how they play off with Robby & Mo. The two children act like their 'older siblings' in a way, which helps them learn about the world.

There are at least five Terrans we see in the series. All five of them have their own distinct personalities. The Maltobots is a recurring name that they have, and frankly? It is adorable.

The five Terrans are:

The competitive spy drone, Twitch.

The carefree motorcycle-and-sidecar, Thrash.

The extremely online SWAT truck, Hashtag.

The serene and calm owl, Nightshade.

The big-hearted stygimoloch, Jawbreaker.

Of the five? I believe Thrash is the one who needs the most development. Jawbreaker, Nightshade, and Hashtag have had major focus episodes based around them. Twitch also had this earlier on, including an episode with Wheeljack, her 'father'(he invented the drone she uses as her alt-mode). Thrash is rife with potential for storylines, and I hope season 2 takes a crack at it.

The Evolution of Megatron:

This series is, for a lot of people, the first time that they get to see a "good guy" Megatron.

Megatron is iconic for being an 80s menace with his various kooky powers. He's Optimus Prime's rival, a consistent thread between the two that is prevalent in every incarnation. Megatron's entire history has, for the most part, been him being played as the bad guy.

IDW is one of the most prominent examples of Megatron making a path to redemption. He's still committed numerous acts of hatred and destruction. He's ruined lives for the sake of conquest. Yet, that version of Megatron is content to face his path, and still believes he doesn't deserve true redemption.

Earthspark Megatron is, like IDW, a villain who's chosen to reform. He believes in a peaceful future for Cybertron, in spite of what many others think of his past tendencies. Megatron believes in the terrans as the future of what Cybertron can be. Megatron cares for his troops and detests the treatment and abuse that rogue decepticons are given.

Earthspark's Megatron is off to being a wonderful character already. The way he interacts with the humans, and Terrans, is a refreshing sight for fans only familiar with the cartoons. I am excited to see where his path goes. I would hope that the franchise does not decide to twist him into being a villain.

How Earthspark tackles human hatred:

One of the biggest pulls from Earthspark's history is its focus on war. It's hardly the first piece of media that has adopted the "War is obviously bad" stance. Other series have shown the damage and destruction that war has caused. With Earthspark, I just think it's taken an interesting approach to it. The way the world is set up, it's just brimming with potential.

Earthspark starts off with an interesting status quo for the Autobots. They are working together with the secret organization G.H.O.S.T. to protect the world from rogue decepticons. G.H.O.S.T. was on the frontlines helping stop decepticons during the great war on Earth. They formed an alliance with the Autobots, and saw much of the havoc that followed from the war.

On the surface, G.H.O.S.T. seems fine, but their ethics are morally dubious. They incarcerate decepticon prisoners with devices that lock them into their alternate modes. They basically control the autobots and how they act in public. G.H.O.S.T. are not the conventional "good guys" you would expect.

This leads us to Karen Croft, a high-ranking agent, and a real piece of work. Yes, her name is Karen, get it out of your system. Karen Croft is a driving presence in the war against cybertronians. She's the one who teamed up with Doctor Mandroid to accomplish her goals. All Karen wants is payback for the destruction wrought by the war. And how is she going to get that? Through conquering Cybertron, obviously!

Croft's genuine hatred of the cybertronians is played out over the course of her appearances. Her willingness to use her brother, and G.H.O.S.T. to get what she wants is frightening. Croft proves the angle that humans can be the real monster when they let their hatred blind them.

Speaking of Mandroid? He's no saint in the park either, he's just as bad. Mandroid, originally known as Doctor Meridian, lost his arm in the conflict years ago. Since then, he's become a delusional monster who seeks to destroy the cybertronians on Earth. Mandroid envisions himself as a defender of humankind.

Mandroid is a monster, and over the season, he becomes more monstrous. At first, he simply stole the arms off of cybertronians to make himself stronger. This causes him to require energon for sustenance. By the season finale, he's become an advanced, alien war machine. Mandroid goes even further when he kills Croft, by disintegrating her alive.

Mandroid and Croft stand out as being such visceral depictions of hatred. Their willingness to abuse and experiment on Cybertronians - even Decepticons, is cruel. Yet, I find that quality makes them fascinating for what they represent. They are what happens when humanity brings out their worst qualities. They are greedy, selfish, hateful, and full of spite.

The Transformers are often to blame for all the things that the war caused. The Home two-parter does a good job at displaying this. In the first half, Robbie Malto, one of the main protagonists, visits his old friend Stevie.

Stevie's first encounter with Twitch and Hashtag is meant to come off as insensitive and hurtful. The group comes across a graffiti piece that reads "TRANSFORMERS GO HOME". Stevie tries to play it off, indicating that the graffiti probably meant 'Decepticons'. The last straw for Robbie is when Stevie says that his father told him the Transformers "invaded" the planet.

Stevie is innocent, and he genuinely sees nothing with anything he's saying. However, it's easy to see how that mindset can influence people. In the end, Stevie grows, and he changes the graffiti to read "TRANSFORMERS ARE HOME".

It's likely that a lot of humans out there have disdain for the Transformers. I like the way that this story is structured. I feel like more focus on this could have been interesting to look at. What other stories could they have spun out of this plotline?

And why Transformers are people too:

That's enough focus on all the negatives. Now how about we focus on the positives?

As I said before, I think the 'maltobots' as a nickname is hilarious. It also is doubly fitting for the Terran cast. They are just as much a part of the family. This is heartwarming, even for Alex and Dot Malto, the parents. They adopted a bunch of sentient earthborn alien robots into their family.

The series really hammers in how close the Terrans are to the Maltobots. They are literally connected to Robbie and Mo, even emotionally. Because of this, the Maltobots can feel the humans' own reactions.

What i also love is the dynamic that the Terrans have wih the Cybertronians. Optimus Prime doesn't look at them and think that they are not real 'people'. He treats them just the same as any other cybertronian. He accepts them as they are, even in spite of them being untrained.

Megatron sees them as the future of their species and embraces their hybrid nature. They are lucky to be born in this current era, where they would not suffer from the effects of Cybertron's long-drawn war.

The series makes its effort to show how not all Cybertronians are 'bad' guys. This is even true of the Decepticon characters. Some of them are especially sympathetic in this iteration.

Tarantulas is a name usually related to laughing mad spiderbots who also might eat people. Earthspark reinvents him into being a reclusive spider bot with no interest in evil. Or eating people. All Tarantulas wants is to just be left alone so he can start a new life. Tarantulas may have been a decepticon, but he does not carry the usual lust for war that's commonly associated with them.

Tarantulas makes good friends with Nightshade, and the two are able to bond over science. They helped Tarantulas create his holographic projector. Tarantulas in addition, helped expand Nightshade's mind on what their alt-mode could be.

Starscream is a name everyone knows, as he's one of the most popular characters. He's typically portrayed as a treacherous force working to undo Megatron's reign. Any abuse that he suffered through those incarnations was warranted, due to his incompetence.

Earthspark's rendition of Starscream is notably tragic. Compared to his other incarnations, Starscream's abuse is played straight. Megatron's actions traumatized Starscream, and he's still deeply scarred. Starscream is able to find a sympathetic ear in Hashtag, who believes his stories. This act endeared Hashtag to him, and the two of them bonded.

Breakdown is a Stunticon, and the Stunticons are all generally crazy. Breakdown's usually the paranoid one, whose always superstitious of others. In spite of his scaredy cat nature, Breakdown is not a threat to be trifled with.

Earthspark's Breakdown humanizes him and gives him a relationship with Bumblebee. The two of them are old friends from before the war began. Now that the war is over with, they spend their time racing together.

Breakdown chose to sacrifice himself to save Bumblebee from being detected by G.H.O.S.T. This was during a race that Breakdown wagered with Bumblebee. If Bee won, he would lay low and hide. However, if Breakdown won, he would get Bee's energon suppressors. Ultimately, he lost, but he managed to help Bumblebee escape from their trackers.

These there are stand-out examples of Decepticons who aren't just "villainous". They might have joined the wrong side, but they always step up for their friends. I'm hoping that we see any of the three in the next season. It just seems natural to want another appearance.

Conclusion: Earthspark is one heck of a road, but one worth paving.

Earthspark's ideas are certainly worth exploring. However, I feel like there's more depth that can be explored through the series. I want to see them really engage with the cybertronian hate in later episodes. I want to see the Terrans get more acquainted with Earth's interesting customs. I want to see so much happen with this series and watch it blossom int osomething amazing.

I am hoping that Earthspark finds a way to tie Cybertron into it's storyline. It just feels like a natural path to take with the series. I am just curious on how the residents of Cybertron would react to the growing life on Earth. You could even make a divide between the Cybertronians and the Terrans.

Earthspark is filled with so much potential for a Transformers series. I hope that it's not squandered over the course of it's series. Things are just starting to heat up, after all. We have another season or two to deal with. Even more, there were some funny allusions to the iconic Quintessons in the last few episodes...

What's next?

That was my review of Transformers: Earthspark! I hope you enjoy it. I will try to keep up the pace with these Tumblr posts. I'm trying not to get lazy on ya'll with my next few.

I'm going to finally start dealing with Moon Girl season 2 (Hallelujah!), do a top 10 on the X-Men's 'silliest' mutations, and maaaaybe dip into some of my favorite Moon Knight moments? Look forward to some more Unseen Stars as well!

And while we're at it?

HAPPY 40TH BIRTHDAY, TRANSFORMERS!

Seriously, turning 40 years old for a franchise is a really big achievement for them. We have been watching these Robots in Disguise for the last 40 years. I'm glad to have been a fan of the franchise. I'm even more excited for what the future will hold.

[taybatwo2]

Monster High Skullector Nightmare Before Christmas Review Part 2 of 2

In my last review, I covered the box and most of Sally’s doll, until I ran out of pictures. In this one, I’ll cover Sally’s sculpt and all of Jack.

She has really cute and tiny ears hiding under her soft hair. I feel like most Skullectors’ face molds’ prior use are quickly found by the fandom, but I did not see much for Sally’s head mold, except for a Reddit thread pointing out that she probably used a modified version of the Bee CAM girl (the head does have a 2022 copyright on it).

I can see it, but if so, it was really modified. Bee CAM has a pointier chin, but does have the narrower/pointy nose, similar curving cheeks, and small puckered lips -they’re just over painted on her doll).

If they did use the Bee CAM as a base, they would have had her nose looks better defined, her chin shaved down, her lips look more inline with each other, and she received tiny round ears when/if they did use this sculpt.

They look juuuuust different enough that she might have a new sculpt or someone else’s. Does anyone else think she might resemble another character? I really should take some acetone to clean off those shiny spots on my Bee CAM’s forehead.

Okay, now for the main dish: JACK the Pump-kin KING

More under the cut:

He is seriously SO CUTE! I love his round vinyl head, his sculpted in mouth, his upturned nose, his subtle brow ridges, and blacked out eyes (thank GOD they did not genderswap him and make him look like someone doing a cosplay of Jack- like I have seen some AWESOME artwork of a more “Monster High” Jack and I think they are all playing it too safe or off model for it to be Jack). I mean these were all background characters for G1 Monster High:

He looks like another version of Eyera and would fit right into the Monster High universe in my opinion.

Okay, let’s get a close up of his shoes. They are very intricate (perfectly Monster High, and have the Spiral Hill as the heel and a teeny tiny skullete on the front of his shoes). His outfit is, unfortunately, just the two pieces and that printed, thin, satin fabric (probably to cut costs on Jack’s new head and body sculpt).

Here is his jacket. I like the print of his jacket. It is just different enough from his original movie look without looking garish.

Yup, one piece. I can understand attaching his pants and shirt together (so his pants don’t fall down…although some spiffy Pumpkin King Suspenders would have looked cool too), but it would have been nice if the vest was removable.

Hexiciah has three separate pieces…..and his set was cheaper than this set (but I suppose they need to charge more for the license….does anyone else wish they’d make older characters that were never turned into dolls again???). The shirt has real metal buttons on it though. Also, his vest reminds me of his prequel version in the graphic novel: Battle for the Pumpkin King:

Jack compared to other Monster High Manster body types (minus G3 and Finnegan). But, this comparison is a bit unfair…..Frankenstein’s Monster has lifts, and Jack is wearing heels…

Hexiciah is towering over all of them. He is actually about the same height as the buffer manster body and the default G1 body. He fits right on in. He’s also very fun to pose, but his elbow joints are bit stiff and (I’m going to assume) delicate. They also come off fairly easily.

His stand is taller than most of the Monster High characters (even Hexiciah’s) because his little stand needs to sit up higher in his ribs to hold him. His clip is also the exact same as Sally’s.

With Jack’s rectangle plastic piece under his clothing, it was hard for the stand clip to grip him, so I just tossed it for the rest of the review. No regrets.

Jack and the other skeleton girls: Skelita and her almost trial run: Skeleton CAM (and Skelita’s Re-Ment dog).

His three fingers versus Skelita and CAM (the same mold). The thumbs look pretty similar besides the size. I might paint the joints of his fingers black, but otherwise, they look great.

A close up of his tiny, but VERY detailed feet (I assume they wanted them about the same size so his pants go on easier).

Skelita’s feet dwarfs his.

His leg bones are fused together like Skelita’s, while his arm bones are separated like Skeleton CAM’s.

A comparison of Jack’s and Skelita’s back (Skelton CAM just has a regular one). I like how they still simplified his neck to resemble his simplified vertebrae seen in the film. His sculpting is JUST SO GOOD!!

This set is near perfect to me. I adore it and I really wish that Mattel made it easier for everyone to get one that wanted one.

[afreakingdork]

Weak Spot - Chapter 46

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Thoroughly study this week's chapter art by vikkdoesart469 like Donnie studies ingredient lists

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes, Xenophobia, Fear, Intimidation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Love, AFAB Reader, Vaginal Sex, Sex Rough, Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Teasing, Scent Kink, Sexual Tension, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Marathon Sex, Somnophilia, Bondage, Feral Behavior, Feral Donatello, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Public Sex, Dom Donnie, Human/Turtle Relationships, Turtle Noises

Synopsis:  A love story of villainous proportions! Though it hadn’t come easily, as these things rarely do, you found yourself in a whirlwind romance with a handsome and mysterious mutant. His idiosyncrasies had been easy to ignore as attraction grew into something more. However, will love endure when the unknowns about him end up being far darker than you ever considered?

Screaming thanks at @friggysblog for a thousand years for giving me the chapter idea!

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

Entering the apartment after work, you were still reading through the text you had just gotten on your way up. Not too large a block, it was still quite a few words from Donnie elaborately explaining that he needed to step out. What had you rereading was the fact that amongst the many words he’d typed out, he hadn’t once actually mentioned what he needed or where he’d gone. From one perspective, it could be inferred that it was something for dinner, but from another it almost seemed like a technological part. It felt like you were overthinking it, but everything about this message felt like a cover-up and you couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself at how obvious he was. He could execute villainous master plans in seconds and yet he was still a terrible liar.

Smiling through putting your coat and things up, you headed over to the couch and flopped down. There was really some cleaning you needed to attend to, but you figured you’d earned at least a small break having made it through another capitalistic toil. Scrolling on your phone for a thread you’d left up, you jumped back into some story someone was telling. Losing yourself to dramatics, your gaze was pulled when you heard the door unlock. Only a few messages until the end, you sped through them as you heard Donnie enter. He went through the usual motions of putting his coat up which gave you just enough time to finish.

“You’ve got to hear about this lady and her husband.” You turned to find him right behind you.

“First…” He seemed ready so you lifted up to address him when something landed on your head.

You had no time as he said nothing more and let go to walk away. Scrambling to catch whatever it was, you missed and felt it hit your shoulder on the way down. Making a little noise as its pointed corner stung, it then landed and bounced on a couch cushion with a rattle that said smaller things were inside. By the time you located the brown and gold box, Donnie was already in the kitchen.

Palming the container, you found he’d given you a 4 pack of chocolates.

Curiously turning it over, it was the kind you had seen at the grocery store and had always wondered what kind of occasion anyone actually picked these up for. They always seemed too small for an actual gift and too boring to grab for yourself as a treat. Picking at the little circling of tape, you lifted the lid to find an assortment of flavors and different shapes to anoint them. Fiddling with the case to find the leaflet that would say which was which, you tossed a question over your shoulder. “Did you win these or something?”

Donnie moved, preparing dinner.

“Guessing game?” You found the ingredient notes printed on the interior of the lid and reviewed them on the way over to the kitchen.

Donnie slowed to pass you a nod when you glanced at him.

“So it’s something.”

He grabbed a pot to fill.

“Not something? Not a holiday.” You set the box on the bar so you could grab your phone. A quick check of your shared calendar didn’t reveal anything of note.

He hummed a curious sound as he put the pot onto the stove and cranked the heat.

“Sort of a holiday?” You narrowed your gaze. “This kind of thing feels impersonal from you…”

He turned to give you a flat look.

“I mean come on!” You returned one with a flare. “You gave me dainty metal work on our first date.” You traced over the chain around your neck and resisted tapping the locket because it would open it up. “This, incredibly intricate origami, and an entire metal child just to name a few.”

He gave a puff of laughter before abandoning his work to fold his arms on the counter and lean towards you.

“I mean, I appreciate them. They’ll be tasty, but it’s kind of sad in comparison.”

“You’ve alluded to it, though not exactly.”

Your smile disappeared as your face centered around a confused purse of your lips. “Wait, what?”

“Not a holiday, an occasion. Impersonal on purpose and, again, you’re on track to mentioning which.” Having given you his laundry list of clues, he went back to preparing dinner.

Turning to lean your back against the counter, you heard him in mono as he made cooking noises while you sorted out what you’d both given and had been given. “Impersonal on purpose,” you whispered aloud, having a sense that was the most important part. “But you love anniversaries, so why would you-?” It hit you so hard you gave a belly full of laughter.

You could hear his smile beside you.

“Wait, I have to make sure!!” Between giggles you spun around and started swiping on the calendar that was still up. “Oh, shoot! What was the timeline? We hadn’t shared our calendar then, right? Or had we? Will it go back far enough…?”

“We had, but I copied over the entirety of mine. You could review as far as I’ve kept on this platform.”

You paused in swiping somewhere around the beginning of this year.

That was new.

Or rather, you never considered going that far back.

You weren’t sure you wanted to. 

Shaking off the combination of curiosity and fuzzies that he once again shared the whole of himself with you, you flipped back until your shared activities weren’t as plentiful, but both of your schedules still commingled. Spartan in nature compared to now, you found just the date you were looking for. “You are truly evil.”

“Oh?” With a quick rummage into a cabinet, he got a thermometer and clipped it to the side of the pot. “And what has labeled me so?”

“’Sadiversary?’” Your expression fell, sardonic, as you held your phone out to him to see that labeled event just below his return from the Hidden City.

His lips wrinkled as he gathered up some potatoes. “I thought you’d appreciate the naming convention.”

“Sad-anniversary?! Donnie!” You rounded the counter just as he was picking up a peeler. “Why get me anything? You said you wouldn’t recognize this one!”

“I debated it.” He palmed a potato and shredded its skin into a bowl. “You seemed to accept our authentic one, but I didn’t want to allow room for you to consider otherwise.”

“AKA make it as sad as possible to reinforce the better one?”

He tipped his head in an appreciative way as he made quick time peeling.

Staring down at what he was doing and then at the pot behind him, your gaze narrowed. “What are you making?”

“This?” He said and then nothing more.

Looking over what he’d taken out, you spied chicken, eggs, and a few bowls. “You asshole!”

He was failing spectacularly at hiding his wicked smile.

“This is my fast food order from that night!!”

He gave into a laugh. “The opposite in this case.”

“Make it better so I forget!” You moved over to him and gave his arm several gentle whacks. “It tasted good because you were back!”

“Steamed in the bag.” He griped. “The fries were no longer crisp.”

“So?! It was the thought that counted! You kept it warm! Amongst everything else that was happening!” You grabbed his arm and he set down his last potato to address you.

“Hmmm, thought, you say?”

“Are you-?!“ You pressed your body against the length of his appendage. “-trying to say that the thought here supersedes then?!”

“I believe there was something else from that night…” He looked over you affectionately. “We’re making memories just fine.”

“You-“ You buried your face into him and he was forced to give you an awkward side hug. “I’ve changed my mind!”

He watched on with a smile as you relinquished his arm.

You grabbed the chocolate and cradled them close like they were the most precious thing in the world. “I’m putting these on a shelf.”

He gave a single puff of amusement and continued to cook.

Plopping down on the couch with the chocolate still to your chest, you fussed over your reaction. You weren’t actually mad, but it was a strange sort of annoying. It was the same sense you got when Donnie was being stubborn in a ridiculous way. Leaning your head back to stare at the ceiling and listen to him rhythmically cut potatoes into fries, you thought there had to be a better way. In reality, if he had just let it be, you probably would have forgotten all about this being any type of anniversary. He was right about you accepting the other date for your official one. Besides his desire for it to be, it was nice to have something consistent to latch onto when there’s been so much murkiness at the beginning of your relationship. 

Given the option though, you turned the chocolates over. They rattled in the box and you mused on how you’d love to celebrate every little thing. It reminded you of the calendar which sequentially led to you thinking about the sadiversary entry. It was something he would have had to add afterwards, which meant he was editing past events. Opening your phone and seeing the calendar once again sitting dutifully where you left it, you found he’d added all your firsts. From that first meeting at the sandwich shop to that first hug where he’d greedily snatched you up, they were all there with simple notation. You wondered how often he looked back on them and tapped through their details to find they didn’t have recurring reminders. They were something he just wanted down on the books and you sank back, letting your phone fall on your chest near the candy.

You sat like that for a while until the sound of Donnie’s knife changed. Imagining he was now preparing the chicken, you lifted your phone back up with the intention to scroll, but for the third time tonight the calendar stared back at you. All your milestones built were a testament to the now and you only glanced at the small box one final time before a plan formed. Sitting up, you tabbed over to a browser and typed in a query. It took some sifting and checking reviews, but you finally found a suitable page and left it open as you got up.

“Room for one more?” You purred as you closed in on the kitchen.

Donnie evaluated your new aura with a raised brow. “As much as I would like to say yes…”

“It’s a small kitchen.” You agreed. “I want to bake something, are you using the oven?”

He had to stop what he was doing to give you the full narrowed brunt of his gaze. “Why?”

“It’s a special occasion.” You rotated your body cutely.

“This is not a thing.” Switching to a new type of drooped lids, he stared at you dully.

“But, dear!” You crooned and tilted your head back wistfully. “You’ve given me such a wonderful gift!”

“In jest.” He glanced down at the chocolates in your hand and you knew he was evaluating your grip so he could steal them back.

“You would never!” You huffed and snuck past him as he was distracted.

“I’m frying.” He clipped, tracking you by turning his entire body.

“My studious boyfriend? The one who remembers and cherishes all our anniversaries?!” You searched the bottom cabinet for a large mixing bowl.

He gave an indignant snort. “Y/N, the space.”

“It’s not really a saying or anything.” You glanced at him with a fleeting warmth as you went to get ingredients. “But it’s sort of a known thing that cooking together tests relationships.”

“Clearly.” He curled his hands out so he could put unsullied wrists on his hips. “One is already juggling the many facets. It’s why professionals note their location when moving.”

“’Behind!’” You joked as you actually moved behind him to get into the fridge.

“It’s integral to prevent mishaps.”

“Don’t think we can handle it?” You returned to your station which was the small counter to the left of the oven.

He didn’t make a noise, but you could hear him puff up at the insinuation.

“Think of it this way.” You turned with a rubber spatula in hand. “Either this goes well and we nail being in a relationship even better than we already are or it goes terribly wrong and this evening is forever marked with the blemish you want it to be.”

The two options instantly smoothed his hackles and a near twinkle caught his eye. “Set your temperature.”

You pressed a few buttons on the oven and in doing so caught a glimpse of golden oil inside the pot. “What about yours?”

“325, how is it?”

You checked the thermometer. “Climbing, almost 200.”

“Good. What are you making?”

“It’s a surprise, but I’m sure you’ll be able to tell as I make it.”

“I can be otherwise preoccupied if you prefer?”

You eyed him where you were measuring flour. “Yeah?”

He nodded, his head focused on what he was breading in front of him.

“Cute.” You noted and went back to your task.

It wasn’t without its mishaps. You nearly knocked over his bowl of soaking fries and he was just dropping the first batch of chicken into the fry oil while you were trying to get your pan into the oven. Thankfully his reach was long and he could allow both tasks without too much effort. You thanked him while keeping your distance to prevent further issues. Setting a timer, you gathered your dishes to wash and took whatever he was done with. He gave you an appreciative glance as he went back to constantly monitoring the oil temperature.

Scrubbing while humming a tune from a new catchy song you’d heard, Donnie asked you what it was and within moments it was playing over some unseen speaker. You chuckled and told him not to expect much. He said that wasn’t the point and strategically turned back to his frying when you whipped around to judge him. Resisting the urge to flick suds at him, you washed in rhythm to the music before putting up the dishes to dry.

Toweling clean hands, you turned to find a pile of fries growing by the minute. Reaching out at their glistening exterior, Donnie’s spider appeared and you halted as you were caught.

He seemed amused and didn’t block you further. “You could, but they aren’t done.”

“How?” You reviewed the golden brown stack.

“Double fry.” He gave a light tap into the pot to break something up.

“You were serious about the crunch.” You stepped closer to the pile to soak up the warm greased air.  

Donnie nodded.

“Not a floppy fry guy.” The heat of the oven lapped at your legs.

“No.”

“Have you tried a lot of fast food?” You bobbed to attention as Donnie held out a smaller crispy bit to you and you ate it out of his hand.

“When I did eat, it was usually takeout.” He twirled his utensil before fishing another set of fries out. “Anonymity.”

“Does that mean you didn’t become a regular anywhere?”

He stopped for a moment and lifted his gaze. “Hm, the opposite.”

“Yeah?”

“Glaring oversight.” He had the faintest grumble as he stared into frothing bubbles.

“Sounds like nothing happened.”

“But it could have.” He had a bite to him and you could tell his task was the only thing keeping him in place.

“It was good though, right? That’s why you kept ordering?” You delicately reached out to show you were going to touch his arm.

He glanced at you and returned his attention in a way that you took as a confirmation. “Sustenance could be derived anywhere. This is the city of delicacy.”

You spread your fingers out to feel the tightness in his bicep. “There’s a lot of competition so places have to be good.”

“Exactly. I could have gone anywhere.”

“Where… did you go? Was it one place or…?”

“Your curiosity is thinly veiled.” He seemed bitter as he fished out the last fries and turned up the heat.

“Ah… well…” You slid away from him, but in a flash of movement he caught your wrist.

He looked down at where he’d caught you and softened his grip. “I… find it difficult to understand why you’d want to know more about… him.”

“You.” You corrected softly, placing your hand over his.

“Whatever you imagine that to be, it’s worse.”

“You’re not the only one who’s tried to convince me.”

“And yet…” He leaned in, more to inspect you.

“I’d like to decide for myself. Imagine if I’d listened to this you in the beginning.”

You got to watch up close as his expression opened up in genuine surprise.

You steadied yourself on his hand to lean up and give him a peck.

He dipped down just long enough for it to land. “Stubborn.”

“Sounds like the good kind.”

“I’m grateful.”

“That I didn’t listen?”

He nodded in time as he lowered. 

Instead of a normal hug, he sort of plopped his body loose against yours. He didn’t hold his weight and you laughed as you had to spread your stance to keep him upright. He waited just until your legs wobbled before hugging you properly with his head still hung loosely on your shoulder.

You rubbed his carapace and felt that he didn’t have his battle shell on.

“We’re okay.” You mumbled, kissing into his clavicle.

He hummed an agreement. “Three places total, two concurrent.”

You leaned into him to keep your surprise from showing.

“American Chinese, Indian and Afghani.” He rooted down into your shirt and to your mating mark beneath. “I’d order the same dish repeatedly.”

Still making small circles against his shell, you avoided lingering in one place too long.

“This was early, before the lengthy mania settled in. When I held my first home longer than the others. Before I became transient.”

“The one you built S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. for?”

He paused and you could feel his smile as he gave another nod.

“Sounds like you. Creature of habit after one meal.”

He stiffened underhand and you increased your pressure. “The first would always mistakenly add to my order. Well… I considered it a mistake. I’d complain during my next and they’d play it off since I wasn’t charged.”

“They were giving you freebies.” You murmured affectionately.

“I hated it.” He chuffed and finally turned his head so you could see him.

“Is it still around?”

“None of them are.” He sighed and lifted up from you.

You smiled softly as he tried to fix your messed clothes. “You’re still here.”  

He slowed around your shoulders where he was smoothing a crease. “I am.”

“I’m glad you’re stubborn too.”

He held you there as he descended for a meaningful kiss. Leaning onto your tiptoes to meet him for the sake of it, it deepend until an acrid smell burned your nostrils. Donnie snapped away first with an annoyed huff as he turned to slammed the dial turning off the stove. “Damnit.”

“Burn the oil?” You stared at the obviously smoking pot.

“Beside.” He gruffed, grabbing the pot and heading toward the kitchen window. You stepped out of his way and watched him manage to open the thing one handed before he deposited the hot pot out onto the fire escape. Shutting it back down, he then dusted his hands. “Again.”

You gave him some space as he got fresh oil heating in a new pot and noticed the music was still going. “What’s this?”

Donnie made a noise before flicking his wrist back.

You watched as a holographic screen floated over to you.Catching it and skimming through the playlist, you smiled at its name. “’Dip Your Toe’ by Sheldon. I’m pretty sure I recognize that totally normal human man in the profile.”

Donnie said nothing as he moved things around.

“I see he’s following the party trend with EDM and dubstep.”

Flicking a towel, he threw it over his shoulder.

“How’s this music experiment been going?”

“I’ve marked a few of faint interest, but, overall, found little.”

“I get where Shelly is going, but he’s too excited. I think it’s because you can’t lose yourself to these.” You flicked to the bottom before moving back up through the songs with slow purpose. “You don’t like how music distracts, right?”

With a tilt of his head, you could tell he wasn’t so sure, but leaned into your estimation.

“Maybe interferes would be a better way to put it?”

You heard a hum that said that was better.

“But you like beats, but it has to be something quiet. Do you know what lo-fi is?”

“Low fidelity?”

“I think so…” Reaching up with both hands you formed batons with your fingers and slid them toward each corner. It made the screen much larger and you used the new space to bring up a browser. “People love studying to it or whatever.” Without a proper keyboard, you hovered your hands, unsure, until you watched as one faintly glowed like a ghost beneath your fingertips. Testing the keys which gave no contact, you got a feel how to write. Each press illuminated the entry which helped you tack out a query. “There’s a quote I heard. I don’t know it exactly, but it’s something about how in the absence of vocals, there is thought. It made me think of you.”

You heard a sizzle as he got the fries in for their second cook.

Hitting play on the stream, you slide your finger along the screen on a hunch and happily found it turned the sound up. Moving the bar until it could be properly heard, you looked toward your partner and found him raising his head to listen. “I can see you being an audiophile, but also maybe liking the imperfections in this? There’s a dusty quality to it. People call it nostalgic so I always liked the ‘dusty’ description. It reminds me of dusty records in an old crate.”

The subdued beats melded with the frying and you tossed the screen back to Donnie. It disappeared into his person with a burst of purple pixels and you watched his carapace until his shoulders drooped with a sort of calm. Not wholly sure if it was the music or the cooking itself, your lids lowered comfortably as you stared on, immersed in the moment. Zen washed over the space and refused to be interrupted as Donnie grabbed another pan. Watching him like some sort of low-key cooking show, he toasted some buns before preparing plates for assembly. Drawn to him just as he tossed finished fries in a large bowl with salt, he set the food aside and you pressed into him as soon as there was an opening.

Not holding you exactly for what you imagined were greasy fingers, you nuzzled your cheek to his plastron and swayed. Titters of birds and a thrum of a crackle mixed with ethereal piano notes. In a gentle rise, you felt Donnie move with you and you both rocked until a new beat kicked in for a seamless transition to the next song. Your mind cleansed, all else slipped away past the sound and warmth of your partner. Not so much thinking as feeling it, you thought you might stay in that moment forever.

Donnie not so easily rinsed, pressed his snout into your hair and mumbled about returning to this later. You reluctantly pulled from him as a violin-type sound mixed to ordain the next song. Parting in a way that still felt entwined, you moved to grab a plate he had prepared to your liking. Looking like a gourmet version of your fast food order, you pulled out your phone and snapped a picture of it, only gesturing to him that you needed to look back on it later. He found it agreeable and you both hovered to the couch, stepping on notes along the way.

Eating came with bursts of flavor that seemed in time with melodies twirling around you like friendly gusts. Deliciously heavy, but balanced with his use of seasoning and crisp lettuce, your eyes closed around each bite. Engulfed in a symphony, you rode the tide until the food on your plate seemed to simply vanish. Knowing faintly it was because you consumed it, comfort said even the portion was exactly right. Static fluttered like a TV set timed out from sleep and you turned this lull to your mate. He’d seemingly long finished and was watching you within the same dozy dream.  

In what looked like a trance, but on his terms, he was set in motion. His vision crisp, but with a sort of auditory fuzz that should have given him a grain, he scooped you up. Malleable, he moved you easily as he wanted, which ended with you laying against his body as he stretched out on the couch. Music ever encompassing, he drew out the noise on your back with a sweeping brush of his finger tips. A canvas all his own, his strokes whipped up a physical sense of the music and you could only imagine how good he’d be if he picked up an instrument. Watching a mental dress-up doll of him try various models on, a beep shredded the entirety of the moment.

You shot up and a glare was shared, not at each other, but at the interloper. One of your creation, it struck you first and you could only shake your head as you dismounted. Donnie was too slack to follow and simply rolled over where his head was already on the arm rest to watch you return to the kitchen. Once there, you turned off the timer and grabbed some oven mitts. Opening up the hot box, you leaned away for fear of the heat burning your eyes before pulling out the toasty pan. Sitting it on a cooled burner, you looked over the small square and mentally cheered that there was no fall in the dough to signify what you had done.

Setting another timer to which Donnie gave an irritated click, you shushed him on the way back. Not quite finding the same comfort, you tucked in the very small space he wasn’t occupying and he wrapped an arm and leg around you to keep you secured onto the couch. Huddled close, you leaned your forehead against his and rested, never hitting the same calm before the timer announced itself again. Less ire this time, you headed over and cut out four large squares before hoisting up the entire still piping tray to bring over to your partner.

Seeing you toting it, Donnie sat up and you knelt down in front of him to present the tray.

“Brownies.” He spoke, looking over what you had made.

“Notice how many?” You watched him eagerly.

“Four.” He scrutinized the bunch. “A small batch.”

“The same number as…?”

He only showed his understanding with the minor quirk of his brow. “Chocolates in the box...”

“I never liked those chocolates.” You set a pot holder on the coffee table before placing the brownies on top of it. “Candy like that is supposed to be gifted, but what’s the point if it’s so small.”

He tracked you with increasing interest as you gestured to the set. Catching your intent, he picked one.

You smiled and the warmth of picking that one out was just enough for your fingers to bare. You then slipped it onto an unused napkin that happened to be nearby and offered it to him. “I’d rather have something we can share.”

He seemed as gooey as the centers were sure to be. “Which did I get?”

“It’s the full experience.” You chuckled. “Even when you’re told, it always ends up being something else.”

Smacked with the many meanings, he gaped at you openly.

“You just have to find out.”

You wouldn’t find out until later that he’d gotten chocolate all over the floor. All you knew in that moment was that he pounced on you and that this day would live on as one of your fondest memories.

NEXT

You know what's up! Huge shout-out to my betas @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83