#I mean like cool I don’t really care but

[mikkomacko]

Him and I - Tender Heart

Nico Hischier x Reader, Mob Boss Nico

Warnings: None x

Previous Chapter

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The red spot on the white floors is tormenting.

It’s more of a coppery color now, old and rusty looking, and you wonder why no one has cleaned it up yet, even if it seems to be fading on its own. You can still see it clear as day though, blurred and fuzzy around the edges but bright and nauseating as it pooled on the floor.

The sight makes your head spin, stomach turning like it did that day you saw it fresh, seeping from the gunshot wound in Lena’s thigh. And there’s no adrenaline, no anger to keep you cool like last time when you fixed Lena up and kicked her to the curb.

No the house is just you and the boys now, the heavy foot fall of Alex, Jack and Luke echoing down from the upper level. They’re patrolling, guarding the weak spots like you told them too. That was where Timo got in to rescue you, a chink in the armor in the upper window that’s broken.

“You ok?”

It’s Timo, gun strapped across his chest and shoulders back as he stands beside you. You nod, eyes following Luke’s pacing figure.

“I saw you first,” you explain, nodding towards the balcony. “Barely, couldn’t really make out your face but I knew it was you.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, smiling just the slightest bit. “You have a certain walk. And your build. You’re a little bit bigger than Nico.”

“Ouch,” comes from behind you, Nico’s hand announcing his presence when it finds the small of your back. “That’s not good to hear.”

Timo snickers, and your own smile grows with amusement. Nico’s grinning when he leans over your shoulder to press a kiss into the apple of your cheek.

“Out of context,” you comment, “obviously you’re b-“

“Whoa don’t insult me to my face, I beg.” Timo interrupts, nudging you with the butt of his gun. He doesn’t look wounded when you turn to him, a bittersweet purse to his lips like he’s just happy you’re not having a breakdown in this place.

Your best friend slowly trails away, returning to his post of guarding your back as Nico instructed. Nico’s hand sweeps your hair over your shoulder, rough fingertips trailing along the gold chain on your neck. He takes your pendant and ring between his fingers, that knowing look in his eyes.

“Feeling ok?” It’s like he can see into you. Not through you, not just you, but everything you are. It’s not something you’ll ever get tired of, being seen and known so well.

“Mhm,” you assure, “just ready to go home, I guess.”

Nico’s face droops into a frown, his hand dropping your necklace in exchange for wrapping around your neck. He draws you into him, body thick and warm, and his lips find your forehead.

“I know baby,” he murmurs, “we’ll be back before ya know it.”

You press into his hold, the blood stained floor and the emptiness of his grandfathers old house forgotten now that he’s got you. “I miss Moose,” you complain, and Nico laughs softly “my poor baby. He doesn’t even know what time is, it’s probably felt so long.”

“Next time we travel you can bring him,” he cups the back of your head, thumb stroking your hair. “Lesson learned, I promise.”

Triumphantly, you smile up at him. Nico had insisted it’d be too hard to bring Moose on such a short trip, that the dog would survive a week without you and that’s it’s just mean to make him get on a plane again. After all, the last time he was on one was when he was being taken from his litter.

The guilt trip had worked and you’d left him at home. It however won’t work next time, no matter what Nico tries to pull. This time you’ve got the reminder of this trip from hell on your side.

“Break it up lovebirds, we’ve got company.”

Mercer is marching towards you from the front door, riffle hanging from his shoulder and combat boots thumping on the hardwood floor. A bulky black vest hangs from his fingertips. Before you can even ask he’s holding it out to you.

“Dawson, I don’t need tha-“

“Don’t care, put it on.”

The usual polite, Canadian tone of his gone completely. He’s serious, face hardened and closed off as he stares you down. Confused, you look to Nico.

“Merc, the vest is a bit much.”

“She bruised and beat up,” Dawson says, raising an eyebrow at Nico. “I’d rather her not add bullet holes to the list.”

Nico stares back, expressionless for a moment before he’s nudging you with a pat to your hip. “Put it on baby.”

They’re being dramatic, you think. Nico’s family wouldn’t openly try to kill you in front of him. But you supposed you’d rather be safe than sorry so you take the vest from a smirking Mercer, pulling it over your head and grumbling when your hair tangles in front of your face.

Nico is the one to brush it away, fingertips gentle as he smoothes it down and tucks the loose strands behind yours ears.

“Pretty girl,” he murmurs, a half smile on his lips. You roll your eyes at his flattery, adjusting the bulky vest and glaring at Mercer.

“You better hope I get shot at or I’m gonna kill you for shoving me in this thing.”

He doesn’t bat an eye at your threatening tone, scoffing and then jabbing a finger at Nico. “If someone so much as reaches for their hip, you better be protecting her head.”

It’s sweet, despite how serious he sounds. Like he’s genuinely concerned for your safety. He did witness Rino first hand though, and he saw the fallout with Nico after. How much it hurt you to have to tell Nico the truth. It hurt Mercer too, enough that he doesn’t trust them anymore.

“Dawson,” Nico calls, tone gentle. “I promise I’m always looking out for her, yeah? Especially her head, but all of her too.”

Comically, Mercer looks Nico up and down, eyes squinted with judgment and he lets out an unimpressed hum. “Yet to be seen,” he says casually, glancing at you. You have to bite back your laugh, entertained by Mercer scolding him.

Offended, Nico scoffs. Eyebrows pulled together in a frown, your fiancé glares at Mercer. “Just get to your fucking post.” Nico hisses, dismissing Mercer with a wave of his hand. The other boy looks to you, and not wanting to escalate Nico any further, you silently nod.

“What the fuck was that?” He grumbles under his breath, shaking his head in annoyance. You catch the strand of hair that slips in front of his eyes, pushing it back over his forehead.

“You always told him he doesn’t take stuff seriously enough,” you whisper, “maybe this is him trying.”

Before he can respond, the sound of the front door opening creaks throughout the empty house. Nico’s body stiffens, his frame immediately moving to stand in front of you and you fall back, reaching for the hem of his hoodie. Timo and Mercer form around you, a protective triangle.

Upstairs, the other three have gone silent, no doubt having moved into their spots as well. You don’t see when Nico’s family enters the large living room, but you hear their footfall, how it grows louder and clearer before suddenly halting.

“Nico,” Luca calls, confused. “What the hell is going on?”

The sound of his brother’s voice sends a dollop of ease down your spine. You weren’t exactly expecting Rino to still be around let alone show up here, but you wouldn’t put it past him.

You glance over to Timo, see the way his clenched shoulders ease just the slightest bit and you find yourself rising to your toes to peak over Nico’s shoulder.

“You tell me,” Nico answers coolly, shifting as he crosses his arms over his chest. His family is gathered in the entryway still, frozen and caught off guard by the presence of weapons. The unspoken standoff.

Nina’s gaze falls to you and you quickly cower behind Nico, mentally cursing yourself for being such a busy body.

“I don’t know,” Luca huffs, “I got notice in the middle of the night that father was missing, then a huge withdrawal from the business account, and you were silent until this morning. Then I get a cryptic text saying to come here and you’ve got a fucking gun pointed at me!”

Luca’s voice rises as his frustration grows with each spoken word, booming throughout the empty room and echoing off the pristine walls. Both Mercer and Timo squeeze in closer to you, as if expecting Luca to bite at any moment.

“I know father is gone,” Nico confirms, calm and collected. Like always. “And going off of that, I’m not surprised you’re suddenly missing funds. But the boys and the guns and me are here to find out what you really know.”

You can’t see it, but it feels like that last part is pointed more at his mother than the others. The urge to look over his shoulder again burns in your gut, but you stay put, knowing that the last time you forgot protocols you ended up in this exact room.

“You know about dad?”

It’s Nina, her voice small, unlike you’ve ever heard her in the brief time since you’ve met her. You can’t tell if she sounds more scared or sad, unable to read her from here. Nico has a lot in common with his siblings. His openness with you isn’t one of them.

“Nico,” Luca says quietly, hesitantly. “What did you do? Where’s father?”

Your fiancé doesn’t so much as flinch. He doesn’t say anything, unable and unwilling to take credit for your handiwork with Rino. From the outside, it looks like Nico is simply waiting, his silence urging them to start speaking. From your view, you know he’s trying to decide what to say, if he should reveal the truth and risk losing them.

That’s not something you’re going to let happen.

Releasing the hem of his hoodie, you step around Nico to be by his side. Your movement makes him shift, dropping his arms out to the side and it looks like he’s about to sling them around you, shield you again. Before he can, you take a hold of his hand in both of yours, meeting his concerned gaze with a subtle nod of your head.

Understanding seeps into his eyes, his whole body relaxing as he accepts the comfort of holding your hand. The gesture does nothing for the other boys though, and you feel as much as you hear them shift closer.

“He didn’t do anything,” you answer, still looking at Nico for a moment longer. His fingers squeeze just once, in thanks, and then you level his brother with a confident stare. “I did.”

Luca looks just as confused as before, helplessly running a hand through his hair in frustration. You feel a little guilty for the eldest son. It’s not his fault he got stuck with the task of running the business, of keeping his father in check and managing the money and legacy his grandfather left behind. Trying to keep Rino from ruining it.

But then again, he never took a second to think about what it all means. He never decided to change like Nico has. And you don’t feel bad for him about that.

Nina is watching you sadly, her eyes big and droopy like Nico’s get when his feelings are hurt. That kicked puppy look, growing even more down trodden when she notices the cut on your lip, the protective gear on your torso.

“Y/n,” she breathes, taking a step towards you with her arm out. “you don’t have to be afraid of u-“

In perfect sync Nico yanks you back by the hand, half stepping in front of you just as Timo and Mercer close in beside you, guns digging into their shoulders and aimed at Nina. The safety never clicks off, but the effect is the same.

“If anyone is this god damn family touches her again I swear to god,” Nico warns gruffly, as Nina quickly retreats.

“Neeky, what are you talking about?” She begs, holding her hands up to show Mercer and Timo she means no harm. “The rifles, the guards, what is going on?”

Still half behind Nico’s arm, you finally look to Katja. She’s already watching you, an inquisitive but knowing look on her face. She’s waiting for you to make the move, and you know why. She took a risk warning you that day in the car, went against her husband and her powerful family for the first time in her life. And until you’ve admitted that you done what needed to be done, that’s she’s safe now too, she won’t utter another word about it.

“The car ride,” you address her, “it took me a bit, but I got it. I-we know everything.”

A proud smirk tugs at the corners of her lips, brief and tiny but still noticeable. You note the way her shoulders seem to lift, chin tilting up in admiration.

“Rino wanted you out Luca,” you continue, “and he wanted Nico back and punished for leaving. The only way to do that was to get his influence back, his loyal subjects.

“And Lena was his top recruit.”

Nina is the first to react, her hands shooting up to cover her mouth in disbelief. It’s a positive sign at the least. It means she didn’t know before, she wasn’t in on it with Reno.

“He planned it all from the day we got here. The texts and everything were on Lena’s phone-“

“We checked her phone,” Luca cuts in, not very much in denial but more so lost. Like he can’t fathom that this would happen. It gives you a little more hope.

“You missed her deleted albums,” you say pointedly, shooting Luca a scolding glare. Head of a business and he’s not even smart enough to snoop right. “She was working with Rino to earn her place back in the business by getting rid of me and dragging Nico home.”

Luca looks at you, eyebrow lifted in a fascinated way. It’s the same way he looked at you when you went against Nico and showed up here with the boys. “What did you do?”

“Mercer put a gun to the back of his head and I told him if he ever came near Nico or my family again we’d kill him.”

“And he ran,” Mercer adds gruffly, venom dripping from his tongue. “Like a fucking coward he took off.”

Briefly, you wonder why some people would even both having kids if they didn’t really want to love them. It’s clear from Luca and Nina’s downtrodden gazes that they’re not surprised. Whatever Rino has done in the past, it’s made it clear that his kids expect nothing great from him.

“We don’t know where he went or what he’ll do. I just know it’ll never involve Nico again.” You look to Katja again, a warm feeling swelling in your chest when you find her watching you with wet eyes. “And it won’t involve you either, as long as you don’t want it to.”

Nina and Luca whip around to stare at their mother, jaws dropped. “You knew?” Nina demands, meanly.

“I know everything Rino does.” She admits, devoid of her usual tone of privilege. “I’ve just never had the means to stop him.”

Nico’s other hand finds the back of your neck, fingers strong as he squeezes. You melt into his touch, a heavy breath falling from your lips. Katja nods at you.

“Until now, at least.”

“A little too fucking late!” Comes from upstairs, Jack you think might’ve said it but from here, him and Luke sound awfully similar.

You can’t help it. You laugh, small and quietly but enough to make Timo snicker too from the other side of Nico.

“Alright,” Nico sighs, amused. “We gotta stop you before they start a riot or something up there.”

His hand finds your neck again, heavy and sturdy, and you look up at him. His other fingers find your necklace, drawing the pendant out and laying it across the vest, the gold glinting on the black. For just a brief moment you two share a silent exchange, unsure of what you’re really looking to him for, but then his fingers are holding your chin high and confident, and he tilts his head just slightly, and you know. You did good, you made him proud, you did exactly what you were supposed to do here.

Timid, you give him a small smile and the moment is over though it’s not fleeting. Even after he releases your chin, and any fondness that had been in his eyes before fades as he turns to his family, you can still feel it.

“Nico I promise I didn’t know,” Luca says earnestly, “about Lena or any of it. You know how father is, I was so stuck on the business that I didn’t even notice him stirring things up.”

Stiffly, Nico nods and his gaze falls to Nina. “You really thought I knew Nico?”

“You came all the way from France for something,” he responds, accusingly. “And you didn’t think to tell me about running into Lena.”

Nina makes an affronted face, like her brother’s words have just broken her heart in two. “I did that for you,” she swears, “I came home because I wanted to see you. And everything with Lena, I thought it was harmless. You and y/n were so happy that night. It was a side of you I have never seen before and I thought telling you about Lena would scare you into not asking her to be your prinzessin.”

Lena harmless. You could almost laugh. She may have been helpless but that seemed to make her even more harmful. Though you supposed if Nico had asked you about her that night in the bar you would’ve thought the same thing. Just a jealous ex.

“I would never hurt you, Nico. I’d never hurt y/n either,” pleading eyes fall on you, their expression so like Nico it makes your heart jump. “I love you guys.”

Nico takes a deep breath, his shoulders shift with it and you settle your hand on the curve of his spine, hoping the touch is calming. After a beat he looks over his shoulder to Timo, waving them off. The air in the room seems to shift now that the weapons are hanging neutrally by the boys’ sides.

The collective sighs of relief from the three of them have you biting back a laugh, hiding your smile in Nico’s side. The hand on your neck slides down to grab at the straps of the bulky vest.

“Let’s get this off,” he suggests, lightly tugging on it. Eager and happy to get rid of the stupid thing, you step back and help him maneuver the Kevlar off. “Mercer take this back, yeah?”

Dawson takes it from him, eyeing Nico’s family as he moves around them to head towards the car. Nico takes a hold of your face, and you reach up to help him smooth your hair back down-

“Oh my god,” Nina’s gasp makes you freeze, both you and Nico wide eyed as you turn to her. “The ring, Nico oh my god.”

At her words Luca and Katja notice too, their gazes falling to your left hand and Nico easily catches your palm in his. The mention of it makes you smile, heat crawling up your neck and you practically drag Nico over to his family.

He’s still holding your hand as you stretch it out to Nina, the light catching the diamond on your finger and twinkling elegantly.

“Oh it’s beautiful,” Nina murmurs, blinking up at you. “Can I…” she motions to hug you. Nico only hesitates a moment before letting you go and you engulf Nina in a hug.

Katja manages to get Nico into one, a bit awkward looking when you glance over at him but he’s speaking quietly with her, and you wonder if it’s about the other ring. The last thing you want is her to be offended that he didn’t use it. Wait, where is that ring?

“Congrats,” Luca tells you, a nervous smile on his lips. You hug him too, thinking of how he had helped you the last time you were in this house. You’re glad that wasn’t just a ploy for him.

“Thank you,” you murmur thoughtfully, and he knows it’s for more than you’re actually saying. He squeezes you again briefly before letting you go, you swapping places with Nico.

“It is a beautiful ring,” Katja says, approaching you slowly. “I should’ve known he’d come prepared.”

Shocked, you blink at her. “You knew?”

A coy smile takes over her face. “Like I said, I know my son. He wouldn’t come home for no reason, unfortunately. And while he may like to rewrite rules, the prinzessin rules are tradition.”

“He needs approval.” You realize, a bit confused. Nico’s never followed any of their rules before. Of course the traditions of the Devs are mirrored of the ones here, but you can’t imagine him asking his mother permission.

“In his case no,” she explains, then cautiously reaches out for your hand. You let her take it between both of hers, squeezing slightly just like Nico does. “Nico has never needed or wanted permission from us for anything. But he wanted a chance for us to meet you first.”

“He cares what you guys think,” you tell her, “even if it doesn’t seem like it. And he talks about you all a lot.”

Katja smiles, grateful and emotional. “Thank you,” she whispers thickly, “for everything. For saving him, making him better than I ever could’ve.”

“He did that all himself,” you admit. “I might’ve been inspiration but Nico never needed to be fixed by anyone. He’s too stubborn.”

She laughs. “And thank you for trusting me, saving me.”

You can’t help it. You shake your hand out of hers, throwing your arms around her shoulders and hugging her. Katja squeezes you back, her hands cautious and gentle on your back but she still feels warm, relaxed. Somewhere in your head, you think she feels motherly. Not quite like Timo’s mother, but similar enough.

“If you ever need anything,” you begin but she shushes you.

“I know.”

Finally, you take a deep breath, closing your eyes and basking in the feeling of doing something right. You kept Nico safe from Rino, and he gets to keep the rest of his family.

Parting from Katja, you meet back up with Nico who tucks you under his arm protectively, kissing the top of your head.

“What do you have planned for the rest of the day?” Luca asks, tucking his hands into the front pocket of his jeans. Mercer comes back sans bulletproof vest, still watching Luca through narrowed eyes.

You give him a warning look. “Finish packing, probably nap for a bit. We were up early, uh and then we’ve got our flight home.”

Nina’s face falls at the mention of your departure tonight, frowning with those big moony eyes.

“You’ll still come see us, won’t you?” She asks, hopeful.

You and Nico exchange a look. It’s not that you haven’t enjoyed Switzerland. There was a lot of fun but there was also a lot of bad, and sometime the bad sticks longer than the good. You’re not saying you won’t come back ever, but for now you want to be home with Nico and Moose.

Nico sucks in a breath, shrugging as he turns to his sister. “Yeah, but not for a while.” He says, and Nina has barely had anytime to slump in defeat before you continue.

“But we’ve got lots of room in Jersey, and a wedding to plan soon, so…”

Nico squeezes your bicep. “So you’re always welcome to come visit.” It’s sweet how they all seem light up with happiness at the invite.

They may need a little work still, but that doesn’t mean they’re not family.

~~~~

Nico wonders a lot of things.

He wonders how people come up with plot lines for books, how they can concoct entire universes in their heads and execute effortlessly. Like that lady that wrote The Hunger Games. Where did that idea come from and how did it come out so well (he’s never read the book but you’ve told him about them).

He wonders how Bluetooth connection works. How did someone figure out that if you put a stupid little signal in one device and another signal in another device, they can talk to each other? It kind of works like magic but not really because magic isn’t real. Whose brain decided it would be cool to make this stuff interface with each other?

He wonders how vinyls work and why it makes music sound different. The little groves aren’t just spirals carved into the disc? How does a song get engraved? He wants to put two different ones under a microscope and see what the fuck is the difference on them that makes them play different songs.

What he wonders the most though, is how he managed to make you love him. He doesn’t question it often, tries not to test his luck but sometimes he can’t help it. In those moments where you’re looking at him like he’s the reason for life. When your eyes are big and full of awe, gazing into him as if you’re looking at heaven itself (if heaven is real). When you move in sync with him, fit under his arm like he’s the center of your gravity.

How did that happen? How did he become someone so deserving of being the center of your world?

“You’ve got a million thoughts behind those eyes.”

Nico smiles, a smug little curl of his lips and shrugs. You raise a single eyebrow, curiously looking up at him through your eyelashes before focusing back on the task at hand.

“Am I gonna get to know them any time soon?” You hold up the black Kith hoodie he loves, the one that’s got that cute dog embroidered on it, squinting as you picture what it would look like on him with the dark sweats you put to the side for him earlier.

“Think you already know them,” he teases, and you subtly shake your head before tossing the hoodie to the bed. “Know everything don’t you?”

“This marriage thing is gonna work out great,” you say dreamily, “you already know the most important rule.”

Nico laughs, holding still as best he can as you hold up a quarter zip to his torso. It’s red and fleece, incredibly warm and soft if he recalls correctly. It’s not something he wears often but it’s the perfect shade of devils red and you always touch his biceps and chest when he wears it, feeling how fluffy it is.

He already knows it’s the one you’re going to choose by the way your eyes light up, a pleased smirk on your face. So he’s not at all surprised when you take it off the hanger, folding it to go alongside his sweats with a cute little, “perfect!”

“Are you gonna dress me everyday now?”

Snaking his arms around your waist, he presses his face into the crook of your neck. “Maybe,” you laugh, “especially if I’m gonna be the one holding you on the plane tonight when you’re crying.”

“I don’t cry,” he argues, nibbling on the soft skin and you jump, startled by his blunt teeth nipping at you. “I whine, s’different.” Nico’s arms keep you still, held tight to the front of him as you squirm away from his teasing nips.

“Tomato, tomato,” you rebuttal, “either way I’m the one holding your fidgeting butt still.”

That makes him laugh, tossing his head back and you, pleased with his reaction, giggle alongside him. It wasn’t that funny a joke, but maybe he’s just that happy. He loves you that much.

“I appreciate it.” He compliments, kissing the back of your head. His hands fall to rest on your hips, fingertips lingering as you move away from him to finish collecting the things you need to pack.

Nico sits on the edge of the bed, heart full. His eyes follow you around the room, stars practically twinkling in his pupils. You’re so beautiful, so wonderful, so amazingly perfect for him.

“I can do that, ya know?” He calls, amused but grateful that you’re taking over the tedious task for him.

Approaching the suitcases laid out beside him, you tuck the stack of shirts into the little crevices and corners of the case. Funnily, Nico notices that he no longer has his own suitcase. No, you’ve just mixed all your stuff in with his and his with yours. There’s no apparent rhyme or reason either.

“I know,” you utter, “maybe sometimes I just like doing things for you.”

Nico’s heart swells, erratically vibrating under his skin and he feels the urge to tackle to you to the bed, lay himself on top of you and just squeeze you until you pop. Instead he chuckles.

“Maybe sometimes?” He asks casually, “not all the time?”

“No,” you giggle, a hand on your hip as you smile at him. Then something curious settles over your features, confusion in your gaze. “What happened to the other ring?”

He pauses, gaze flittering to the ensuite bathroom before settling back on you. It was long enough for you to catch though, your eyes shifting up to look at the open door and then you're taking off. Scrambling away from his grabbing hands with a giggle, Nico chases after you with a lighthearted "wait!"

You're already in the bathroom though, tearing through the drawers and shifting around whatever left over junk he abandoned in there years ago. "Nico, where?" You beg, still pawing around.

Sighing, he shifts onto his knees and pulls open the cabinet door beneath his sink. You crowd behind him, shifting impatiently as he shoves boxes of cleaning supplies and extra shampoos to the side. Behind the drain pipe, his finger brush against the velvet box and he grabs it. Then, with a blank look on his face, he holds it up to you.

"Ooh," you squeal, taking it and flipping the top open. Knees cracking, he returns to his full height, nudging the cabinet shut with his foot. Propped up against the counter, Nico watches you with bated breath as you examine the ring from his mother.

He's not stupid. It's obvious you think the ring is beautiful, that it impressed you the first moment you saw it out on the front steps. Maybe he was a little worried you'd be upset he didn't give you that ring, but it's obvious now that he made the right choice. Your eyes shift over to your left hand and something seems to sparkle in them, as if the diamond and pearls themselves live inside your irises. Yeah, his mother's ring is beautiful, but you love the one on your finger.

"Right choice?" He asks anyway, still a bit hesitant.

You bite your lip, nodding happily. "Perfect choice," you assure. Gently, you close the box and hold it out to him.

“S’yours,” Nico shoos it away, not interested in taking it back from you.

“Katja gave it to you,” you tell him, shaking your hand as if that knock enough sense into him to take it back. What are you going to do with two rings?

“For you,” he presses, “it’s yours baby. You get to decide what to do with it.”

It’s a lot of pressure. This family heirloom that he never thought he’d get, a token of acceptance from his mother and he doesn’t even want it. He wants you to have it.

The thing is, you don’t really want it either. You don’t need his mother’s acceptance or the tradition of this business. You and Nico are not a part of it. You have your own family and life and traditions you want to set up, ones that have real meaning behind them. You have a ring that was given out of love, not out of contract or obligation.

It means nothing to you.

But you’d imagine it doesn’t mean nothing to his siblings, the ones still here and trying to redefine the organization their father built. Maybe the ring should be redefined, given a new purpose.

Maybe it’s time the ring goes to a Hischier daughter. Someone who will know what to do with it. And will know what it has meant for the women before her.

“Ok,” you murmur, reminding yourself to leave it on the outside pocket of your carry on. “Thank you, Nico.”

He takes a hold of your hips in his large hands, guiding you to stand between his thighs. You go pliantly, melting into his broad chest with a soft sound of contentment.

“Thank you,” he whispers, tone heavy with what he’s not willing to say right now. You get it all the same, and the feeling of pride from earlier swarms up in your chest again. You did good, you won, you did it all for Nico. And sure you’ll have to still keep an ear to the ground for Rino, but Nico is safe and happy.

You press a kiss to his chest through his shirt. “I’m tired, Schao.”

He runs a hand up your back, nose pressing into your forehead sweetly. “Let’s go nap baby.” He pats at the outside of your thigh, moving to guide you back to the room. “We’ve had a busy day.”

Starting the day with an early morning proposal and then the chat with his family, and now a long trip home. It has been a busy day.

You wiggle out of your jeans, kicking them towards your suitcase to be packed later before climbing into the bed that’s still unmade. Nico kicks off his own jeans, working his shirt over his head and you’re reminded of how he’d celebrated your engagement in these very sheets just this morning.

Blushing, you watch as Nico slips under his side of the blankets. Like two magnet ends, you slide into his side, laying your cheek on his bicep and throwing your leg over his middle. Smiling, his free hand drops under the blankets to hold the meatiest part of your thigh, the pads of his fingers lovingly rubbing little circles into your skin.

“We’ll be home soon,” you whisper, excited. He makes an agreeable humming noise and you peak up to find his eyes already closed, dark eyelashes brushing the tops of his cheeks.

Laying your left hand over his heart, you admire the pretty diamond for a bit longer. Feeling his heart beat, listening to his breath even out, entranced by the pretty pearls until your eyes slip shut on their own accord.

~~~~

Nico is having a dream.

Or something like a dream, he thinks. He’s been here a million times, knows the exact shade of the walls and the thread count of the bed sheets and the smell of the candle on the nightstand. It is his favorite place after all; The bedroom he shares with you at home.

For a moment he thinks it’s a memory. There’s something about the air in the room, it feels so familiar and certain. Like he already knows what’s gonna happen and he’s just patiently waiting for it. He shuffles in the bed, blinking through the dark air as he realizes you’re awake too and quietly speaking.

Nico thinks you’re speaking to him, sits up higher on the pillows and moves to fully look at you. But you’re not looking at him. Instead, you’re turned away from him, sitting up with the bedding bunched around your hips. His shirt is draped over your shoulders and hangs loosely around your neck, the collar stretched out from the countless times he yanked and pulled it to kiss down the column of your throat and collarbones.

His mind tells him to reach out, to brush his fingers over the back of your neck to get your attention. His hands stay still though, muscles not making any effort to comply with his brain. Helpless, Nico watches your shoulders and back move as you speak quietly, the words unintelligible to him.

Moving on its own accord, Nico’s body sits up on the mattress and tucks into the curve of your back, his chin pressing into your shoulder blade. The sight in front of him makes his heart skip, confusion turning to panic, and he’s so grateful that your hand reaches back to rest on his thigh, as if comforting him.

A dream, it has to be a dream. Because it’d be impossible of him to have the memory of a child standing at your bedside in the middle of the night.

It’s a boy, maybe eight or nine years old. It’s funny, Nico thinks, how dark the room is but the features of the boy are crystal clear. Dark brown eyes, red rimmed and full of tears, innocently framed by equally dark eyelashes. It’s startling to see, to be looking at the same eyes he sees in the mirror.

Nico’s breath catches in his chest. He’s looking at himself he think, examining the boys dark and messy hair. Why is he looking at himself?

Except he’s not, he realizes a beat later. The soft shape of the boys face, the fullness of his mouth, the roundness of his nose. They’re features he’d recognize anywhere because they’re yours.

This boy, a perfect blend of you and him, isn’t a younger, dream version of himself. It’s a child he shares with you, it’s your son.

He doesn’t blink an eye at Nico’s sudden presence over your shoulder, his gaze desperately locked on you and if his eyes weren’t enough to prove this kid is Nico’s too, that simple action certainly is.

A teddy bear is clutched in the boys hands, little fingers tangled around the neck of the stuffed animal. Deja vu stirs Nico’s brain, memories of him as a child holding his bear the same way suddenly surfacing. Maybe that kid is supposed to be Nico when he was younger because the more he notices, the more he realizes he’s lived this night before.

The boy is hiccuping, fighting back blubbery cries and squeezing at that teddy bear as he retells the nightmare he woke up from. A once dream of him out in the yard, running and giggling through a game of tag with ‘the family’. It’s fun and he’s so excited to be with everyone.

Until suddenly it’s not fun and he doesn’t want anyone there. They’ve all turned into monsters, twisted faces of the people he loves, their eyes now black and menacing, chasing him with a dangerous desperation. It feels like they want to kill him.

The boy doesn’t say that, but Nico knows. It’s the same nightmare he used to have as a child. Luca and Nina, chasing him with evil eyes and death grips. His parents, following behind with the same look, not pursuing really but not helping either. It was the dream that plagued him for years, forced him from his bed and into his parent’s room until he was old enough to realize he was better off soothing himself back to sleep.

The air in the room has gone cold, Nico’s own breath shuddering against the skin of your shoulder and he wants to move, needs to move. He needs to reach around you, reach for the crying boy because Nico knows what comes next.

It’s the part where his mother blinks back at him, tired and annoyed, mumbling dismissively that it was a dream and he’s too old to be doing this. He has his own bed and room, he knows how to put himself back to bed. Time to grow up and get over it, or if really necessary, wake the nanny next time. His father has work tomorrow and can’t be disturbed. Nico knows that, he’s reminded and then sent back out of the room with his teddy bear squeezed so tightly in his hands he thinks the seams might rip.

He still can’t move however, can’t get his body to cooperate with the signals he’s screaming at it. Someone needs to get to the boy, needs to pick him up and hug him, needs to wipe those tears off his puffy cheeks and tell him that would never happen, that his family loves him and he’s got nothing to be scared of.

To his horror, Nico blinks and realizes it would be you. You’d be his mother in this dream, dismissing the boy with a cold shoulder before making sure he himself hasn’t been bother by the intrusion. The same as his mother used to do for his father. Even worse, Nico realizes he’s his father in this stupid dream, this stupid nightmare.

You pull away from Nico and his heart seizes, his own eyes stinging with tears as he waits for you to dismiss the crying child. He’s a marble statue on the bed, watching you reach for the blankets with bated breath.

He expects you to pull them back over your shoulder and lay down. Except you don’t, your hands pushing them further down your thighs and you’re getting up from the bed.

Like its instinct, the boys stretches his little arms out to you and you lean down to meet him halfway. Wrapping him up in your arms, you lift him onto your hip and the boy curls into you, hugging his bear tightly and laying his head on your chest. You hold him protectively, a hand soothing the hair on the nape of his neck and rocking him steadily until his cries are just sniffles into the fabric of your shirt. It’s then that Nico can finally move again, the invisible hold on his limbs easing to nothing.

“He’s ok,” he hears himself saying, “he’s ok now.”

Like you’re seeing him for the first time, not noticing until now that Nico is in the dream, you turn to him. Your eyes shine, tired but warm and with a loving smile you approach the bed. Nico reaches out, eager now that he can get his body to cooperate and gestures for you to get back in bed. Softly, you lay the boy down in bed, his head on your pillow and wet eyes blinking at Nico.

“Daddy?” He asks and Nico can’t breathe, can’t speak. His mouth opens, unsure of what to even say but nothing comes out anyway. It feels like his vocal cords have been taken, silenced.

But then you lay down too, settling into the mattress besides the young boy and Nico lets out a quiet breath. Nervously, Nico draws the teary eyed boy into his chest, hands tender and uncertain but the boy goes easily, snuggling into Nico’s hold like he’s been there a million times before. Laying back into the pillows, Nico watches you move closer, laying your head on his bicep and your hand comes up to play with the boys hair. You throw your leg over Nico’s, touch your foot to his calf and he melts into the bed.

It feels safe, being here. In his bed, his home with you. The weight of you and the son he shares with you on his chest. Knowing that he’s ok, Nico’s ok and the boy is too.

Nico wakes up with a start, the light of the setting sun harsh on his eyes and he has to blink rapidly to get the white spots to clear up. Heart thumping painfully loud in his chest and ears, he forces himself to take deep breaths.

He’s in his room, well the room you two now share, just not the one from his dream. This house and room have been left at the bare minimum, abandoned after he left to the United States. The cleaning crew comes every other week to keep it fresh and tidy, and the grounds crew every few weeks to care for the lawn. Nico’s never cared about this house. It was given to him by his grandfather, part of his inheritance. They all got a house within ten miles of grandfathers house. For security and safety reasons.

Nico almost sold it when he first got to Jersey. Thought of using the money to speed up the process of getting the Devs going, but he actually enjoyed living in the cramped apartment with Timo and Jonas and Jesper and the girls. It felt like a real home with a real family.

And his siblings would never forgive him if he got rid of the family gift from his grandfather.

Now, he’s glad he didn’t. It’s still not home to him, but he’s shared too many moments in this house with you already. He can’t imagine anyone else but you in the kitchen, drinking tea with him in the morning. Chasing you around the piles of snow outback in the middle of the night. The sheets have already begun to smell like you and him, a perfect mix of his cologne and your perfume, just like the sheets back in Jersey.

And as much as he hated his grandfather, the old kook was right about one thing. Being this close is safe. If anything were to happen to him, to the Devs, you’d have this home. A safe place for you and Moose and probably Alex too at the very least. Near his family, his mother who he can shockingly trust to make sure you’re taken care of.

Nico’s pulse and breath even out, and he drags a hand down his face, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. They still feel heavy and groggy, begging to return to sleep. He blinks, lets the image of the dream float fuzzily into his mind again.

A kid. Nico had a kid. Somewhere in his subconscious, he’s ok with that. The thought brings a lump to front of his throat, but not one big enough to choke on. Improvement, he thinks happily. He’s easing into this family thing, spurred by the image of you. You’ve always been so sweet with Nico, so patient of his faults and the time he needed to grow up and heal.

He can be patient too, he thinks. And kind, and loving, and protective, and providing. And present. Everything a good dad should be.

Tears sting at the back of his throat, blurring his vision and he sniffles quietly.

Nico doesn’t want to wake you, but the arm you’re using as a pillow is stinging with pins and needles, fingertips cold and numb. And even though you’re plastered to his side, he wants more.

Hesitant and a bit embarrassed, he rolls onto his side to face you, wincing as he attempts to wiggle his arm out from under you. The movement makes you stir, a sharp inhale of air cutting through the silent room and then your blinking your eyes open, coming face to face with Nico.

“Sorry,” he whispers, pathetically, his voice cracking. That stupid burning feeling in his throat grows and Nico’s not even sure what he wants, what’s going on. He can feel himself panicking again as you sit up a bit and free his arm. He’s about to start babbling his dream to you in defense for the tears but you don’t even give him a chance.

Sleepily, you move up the pillows and onto your side, still facing him. But your arm is pushing at his shoulder and he molds like putty in your hands. Nudging him to move onto his side, his back now facing you, Nico inhales shakily. He can feel you shuffling behind him, rustling the blankets like you’re searching for something and he opens his mouth to ask what you’re doing.

You shush him by throwing your arm around his chest and your leg over his hip, pulling yourself tight to his back. Soft and worn fabric tickles the skin of his chest and he cranes his neck down, blinking at the sight of his teddy bear. He’d grabbed it from his childhood bedroom for you in the hospital and ever since it’s slept by your head or in the crook of your elbow.

Nico takes the bear from your hand, laying it against his chest and bicep, and you curl your arm tighter around him, fingers pressing over his heart in a welcome weight. It’s a nice feeling, the pressure and warmth of your body wrapped around him like this, and he can kinda see why you like when he holds you like this.

He feels so…safe and shielded. He closes his eyes, ignores the wet feeling of a few tears slipping down his cheeks.

“S’ok,” you whisper quietly into his ear, your face pressed into the back of his neck. “I’ve got you Neeky, s’ok.”

He drifts back off again, faintly realizing that that’s the first time you’ve called him that.

~~~~

The jet looms off to the side of the runway, the windows glowing with the cabin light and bulbs on the wings blinking. The car rolls to a stop next to a familiar black SUV, Timo putting it in park and killing the engine. Through the tinted window you can make out the other three Hischiers leaning against the front of it, bundled up in their coats. Luca’s got his arm tucked around a small, huddling figure.

“Maja,” you tell Nico, pressing your finger to the glass and looking back at him with a smile. He follows your gesture, laughing softly.

“You like Maja huh?

“She’s sweet,” you answer, moving to release your seatbelt just as the other vehicle pulls up next to you. Mercer, eager to get home, practically leaps out of the drivers seat.

Timo is the first to get out, quickly dashing around the front of the car to open the passenger door for Amelia and you and Nico giggle quietly to yourself. You’ve never seen Timo so romantic before.

Pulling Nico’s beaning further over his ears and checking his zipper, you give him another little grin before opening the door. The air is cold and biting, stings your cheeks as you shuffle out and Nico follows, staying close to your back.

The other boys have all gotten out of the car too, lined up groggily by the back of your SUV and Timo leaves Amelia standing with you, moving towards the trunk.

“Timo,” Nico stops him, nodding to Amelia. “They’ve got it.”

Luke, Alex, and Mercer don’t even so much as grumble when Nico gestures for them to load the bags on the jet. Jack however, rolls his eyes, stomping his feet like a child as he joins them.

The Hischiers have come over to help now, not that Nico would ever let them so they all just stand in front of you, waiting and expectant.

“You have everything you need?” Nina asks you first, faux cheeriness in her voice and you know how upset she is to see her baby brother go.

Nico laughs under his breath, moving around you and pulling his sister into a hug. It’s enough of an answer for her, Nina greedily accepting the affection and snuggling into his hold.

“Come on you,” Maja calls, pulling herself out of her hiding spot under Luca’s arm. Simultaneously, they stretch out their arms to you and you laugh, moving to accept the double hug from them. Their puffer jackets make it a bit of a tight fit but you don’t mind, squeezing them as tight as you can.

“It was so nice to meet you, y/n.” Maja tells you, “you know if you ever need anything at all we’re here. Luca loves long flights.”

He makes a noise of complaint, something between a scoff and a snort, and you almost laugh imagining him just as restless on planes as Nico is.

“You and Nico both, huh?” You tease, pulling back to smile at him. He chuckles, snaking a cold hand up to ruffle your hair.

“You take care of him, ok kid?” He tells you, and even though it’s said softly, you can hear the underlying concern in his tone.

“Always,” you promise, then narrow your eyes at him in a stern frown. “You take care of Maja and Katja, ok kid?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Not Nina?”

“Nah I think she can handle herself and her Frenchies.”

That makes both Luca and Maja laugh, him giving you one final squeeze before letting you go. “I will.” He assures, a fond look in his eyes as he awkwardly pats at the top of your head again. Maja presses a sisterly kiss to your cheek, grinning sadly as she returns to hiding under Luca’s arm.

Nico, now parted from his sister, moves to swap places with you, his hand briefly finding the small of your back. Nina is already crying when you get to her, cheeks red from the cold and glistening.

“Aww don’t do that.” You beg, bundling her up in a hug. She laughs wetly, pressing her face into your shoulder.

“I got the emotions for all three of us it seems,” she jokes, referencing the lack of tears coming from her brothers. You don’t tell her that Nico can actually be the world’s biggest softy. And you don’t think about waking up to him crying earlier, because if it were something he wanted you to be concerned about, he’d tell you.

It was him healing, you tell yourself, and then shake the memory away for now.

“A blessing and a curse,” you say, pulling back to hold her at arms length. She swipes at her cheeks, sniffling.

“Thank you for everything this trip,” she says earnestly. “You make him so happy, it’s like a brand new Nico. He hasn’t been like this since he was a baby.”

Your heart squeezes, a bittersweet feeling seeping into your veins. Sometimes it’s hard to picture Nico being a happy baby. He’s so neutral and solid now, confident but tense. Like he’s always waiting for something. But when you picture him singing in the car or wrestling Moose for toys and hanging out at the bar with the boys, you can see it.

Nico was born happy and bright, warm like the sun. Sometimes he hides it, but eventually he’ll show himself.

“You fixed him.” Nina shrugs, sniffling with fresh tears in her eyes again.

“That was all him,” you tell her, repeating your words to Katja from earlier “I may have been inspiration but he never really needed fixing. He just needed to know that we love him.”

The tears roll down her cheeks, a blubbering cry escaping her and you laugh, pulling her into another hug. After a moment of sniffling, she pulls back.

“I’m ok,” she says more to herself, laughing again. “I’m sorry he grew up like this, that we grew up like this.”

It’s not her fault, though you can’t really imagine having a baby brother and not protecting him. Maybe it’s just who you are though. Still, you wave off the apology. “It made him strong, it made you all strong.”

Releasing her, you dig in your pocket for the box you’d set aside earlier. Nina blinks rapidly, trying to dry her eyes and you hold it out to her.

“I think this belongs to you now.”

She gapes, recognizing the box immediately just as Nico had. “Y/n,” she gasps, “what? No that’s, she gave it to you and Nico-“

“Actually she gave it to Nico, and Nico gave it to me, and well I already have one so I figured it should go to someone who can make it mean something worthwhile.”

Nina shakes her head. “What about Luca? It’s meant for marriage?”

“I was told it stood more contractual obligation, but it should stand for love. It’s a wedding ring, after all. It should have ties to love.”

You press the box into her trembling hand. “Nico and I love you Nina. You’re the big sister I never had and well, this should dazzle on your finger while you woo every pretty French boy that struts by…”

She laughs wetly.

“And then maybe one day you’ll give it to your kids, kids you love, and they’ll give it to someone else they love.”

Her fingers wrap so tightly around the box her knuckles turn white. “I used to steal it from my mother’s jewelry box,” she says with awe. “After father got her an anniversary one and this one wasn’t worn anymore. I’d put it on my hand and imagine my grandmother had given it to me because it went so well with my eyes.”

Startling, you think it does. She’s got little flecks of green in them, more brown than anything else but they’re there. The same shade as the ring.

“It does,” you agree, letting her hug you again.

“I love you both too,” she murmurs, “and I’m gonna be a better sister, ok?”

Squeezing her, you nod. You don’t have a doubt that she won’t at least try, and that’s all you can really ask for. Maybe with Rino gone they’ll all find what they’ve been looking for.

Nina lets you go, tucking her hands into her coat pocket and sniffling through a smile. Nico finds his place next to you again, his hand falling to your lower back protectively and you subconsciously press closer into his side. Over her shoulder, the boys are carrying the last of the bags onto the jet.

Katja is fidgeting as she comes to say goodbye, anxiously picking at the strings of a gift bag in her gloved hand. It’s the most unkempt and normal looking you’ve ever seen her. It’s refreshing.

“My turn?” She says with a weak laugh.

She’s close enough for you to reach out and touch her, so you carefully cup your hands around the fist holding the gift bag.

“Thank you,” you say earnestly, “for warning us, for trusting me. I’m sorry it took me a bit to realize it.”

Katja shakes her head softly. “Don’t thank me. It was the right thing to do,” she looks at Nico, blinks sadly. “I should’ve done a lot of things differently and I should’ve done them a lot sooner,

“I’m sorry that I didn’t fight for my autonomy Nico, and I’m even more sorry that I didn’t fight for yours either.”

His body stiffens behind you, and you quickly let go of Katja’s hands in favor of slipping your arm around his waist and resting the other on his stomach, grounding him.

From here you can only see his side profile, stoic and intense in a way that’s strictly his resting face. But you can feel it in him, see it in his eyes that are always so telling. Something raw and tender.

“You fought for my girl,” he says quietly, “that’s apology enough mother.”

It’s not exactly forgiveness, but it is acceptance, and that’s good for now. You can’t expect Nico to let everything go after one apology. After all, he was just a kid, a young boy with a big heart who tried to please everyone, tried to make them love him, and in return he only got hurt.

That’ll probably stay with him for the rest of his life.

Katja smiles, a little amused as if she were expecting him to say that. Again, you think of Nico waking you earlier, how desperate and upset he looked, lost in whatever dream he had. You wonder if she ever saw him like that, ever held him and let him know he was safe. After all, his favorite thing in the world to tell you is that you’re safe with him. Maybe he picked it up from her.

You have a feeling, though that it might just be strictly a Nico thing.

“This is for you,” Katja clears her throat uncomfortably. “I figured you’d want it for the wedding maybe or to just have.”

She holds the bag out to Nico, his fingers trembling as he pulls the handles apart. You tip toe to look inside with him, chest aching painfully when you see the baby blue book printed with bears and rattles. It’s a baby book, you realize, and tucked against it are thin stacks of photographs and old, crumbled drawings, all placed in a protective plastic sleeve.

It’s his childhood all tucked into one gift bag. The good parts of it at least. Rino did all he could to silence Katja, to make her just a figure in the background but at the end of the day she’s still a mother and Nico is still her baby boy.

You were wrong about her being unfazed by Nico’s indifference to her. This whole time she’s been secretly holding on to any parts of him she could get her hands on, no matter how tiny.

Nico, a bit dazed, hands the bag to you. You accept it, letting it hang from your fingertips carefully while he stares back at his mother.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, “I-I was always trying to get photos from Nina to show her and yeah.”

It’s clear he doesn’t know what to say, overwhelmed with the gift but still appreciative. Katja must know that too, because she nods at him.

Nico coughs, clearing his throat. “We should get going. Don’t want to get in too late.”

Katja doesn’t say anything, just looks at you knowingly before you and Nico turn to gather Timo. He’s still saying goodbye Amelia, large arms wrapped around her and his face hidden in her hair. You and Nico already said your goodbyes to her in the car, knowing her and Timo would want this time together.

Leaving them to their moment, you look up at the jet, find the younger boys already seated inside and watching you both through the windows. You laugh softly, bumping Nico and gesturing for him to look.

“Dramatic,” he mutters with a roll of his eyes.

The Hischiers all look to you, one last parting smile on their lips. “Let us know when you land,” Nina requests and you happily oblige.

Nico takes your hand, starts to lead you towards the jet but you pause, waving to them one more time. “We’ll see you guys soon, yeah?”

Nina and Luca laugh. “We’ll talk after the holidays!” She calls, because you’re still slowly trailing away with Nico.

“Maja?”

You can’t see her smile, but you can hear it. “I’ll be there!”

Hopeful, you look to the slowly shrinking outline of Katja. She smiles, in a pristine but motherly way. “Soon,” she agrees simply, and you accept the answer, letting Nico easily guide you up the steps and into the jet.

~~~~

Nico’s foot fell asleep 20 minutes ago, his toes prickling uncomfortably with needles but he doesn’t dare move. After two hours of him attempting to act normal on the flight, sitting as still as possible and forcing himself to breathe evenly so he’s not huffing out sighs every five minutes, he’d given up.

Timo, a bittersweet look on his face, had collapsed into his seat and shut his eyes before the jet door was even shut. Nico doesn’t know if he’s asleep or just pretending, but no one dares disturb a tender-hearted Timo.

Jack and Luke had pulled out their switches as soon as the jet reached cruising altitude, bickering with each other over Fortnite and some other tractor game in the seats across from Timo.

Alex and Mercer sat across from Nico and you, shifting through the goody bags you’d left at all their seats. A little wooden mind puzzle game had kept Mercer occupied for about an hour, while Alex consumed almost every snack in his bag before curling up under a blanket and going to sleep.

It was at that point that Nico decided he’d had enough of acting like flying isn’t the bane of his fucking existence. It’s uncomfortable, it takes forever, there’s no breaks, and food options suck.

“Baby,” he’d pouted, looking to you all snug under your blanket with his teddy bear. You were half asleep too, eyes heavy and low as you just watched him and he wondered if you were waiting for him to fall asleep first.

At his beckoning, you’d gotten up from your seat and slipped easily between his parted thighs, settling into his lap like you belonged there. Then you’d slid his laptop over from in front of your seat, putting the volume on low and pressing play on Casablanca. Nico thinks you maybe watched five minutes of it before you fell asleep on his shoulder, your hand tucked under the hem of his quarter zip to warm your cold fingers.

Nico hasn’t moved since, except to switch movies and then pull the blanket over your shoulders. Even though he really wants to slip his stupid shoes off and he should probably get feeling back to his foot. Instead he just holds you, enjoying the feeling of your back steadily rising and falling as you breathe.

Just over the screen of the laptop, broody brown eyes watch him, swollen and tired but refusing to shut. Nico was hoping the further away from Switzerland you got, the more relaxed Mercer would be. Instead he looks like he’s got cyanide between his teeth.

Nico gently cups his hand over your ear, not wanting to wake you. “Merc,” he calls quietly, “she’s fine now buddy. I swear.”

“I know,” he says, blinking lazily “but it was scary Nico. Her asking me to do that was scary and seeing him hit her…”

Dawson adjusts himself in his seat, making a face like just the memory of it makes him sick. “I remember her after Philly. And I remember you both disappearing. And I know she’s got you and you’ve got her, but maybe I’ve got both of you too, ya know?”

In all this time since Philly, Nico never thought what happened really changed the boys. Sure they were upset and protective over her, but that comes with the territory. He never imagined that it scared them or still haunted them to this day too. Enough so that even a cut to your lip could make Mercer get like this.

Nico’s proud. Mercer has always kind of skated by, goofed off and put in minimal effort. Most of the time it feels like the boy just gets by on luck. Yet he’s spent this whole trip being your guy, your second hand, your Robin basically. And he’s done it better than Nico could’ve asked him to.

“Yeah,” he agrees, quietly because he does understand. Mercer doesn’t want this to set them back, to become something you hide from.

“I’m sorry,” Mercer suddenly mumbles, frowning with this far away look in his eyes. “About Rino and your family. And I’m sorry we always called you grumpy and stuff. If my family were like that I don’t think I’d even be half as nice as you are.”

Nico chuckles. “Nice isn’t typically used to describe me Merc.”

“Well you are nice,” he insists, gaze returning to Nico now. “I mean, you took a bunch of us in and made us a family. Taught us how to grow up. I was big ol’ baby before I got here. Never had to do anything for myself. And Alex was gonna spend his life in prison. And she didn’t have anyone anymore.

“You gave us a good home, Boss.”

It’s a little too much to take in. Nico feels like his nerves have been stripped raw and exposed to the winter winds all day, relentless and invisible fingers picking at them like strings. First his family, now this. He’s not sure what else he can take.

He clears his throat, nodding stiffly in thanks and the faintest hint of a smie flashes on Mercer's face. "Get some rest Dawson, we're ok now." Finally, he closes his eyes, leaning back into his seat. Nico waits for the sounds of Dawson's breath to even out before he too closes his eyes.

Nico doesn’t want to come back to Switzerland for a long time, especially not without knowing where Rino ran off too. But he thinks of the gift bag from his mother, the engagement ring sitting prettily on your finger, the image of you engulfed in tearful hugs with Luca, Maja, and Nina, and he thinks maybe it wasn’t all so bad.

He’s coming home feeling more loved and accepted than he’s ever felt in his life. And it’s all thanks to you, his fiancée, his girl. His family, he thinks warmly, drifting off to join you in sleep.

[co-mixed]

Why I hate Reed 

Fantastic Four has a long history of disaster after disaster. Most of the disasters in question were caused by Reed. Bet you didn’t expect me to jump right into it. 

Okay, fine, let’s do an introduction first.

Fantastic Four has been a Reed-centric story since the day he broke ground on Marvel-1 (known at the time as just a rocket) and took his bff, girlfriend, and her tag-along brother on a ride, to the day his arch-enemy took over the world (that was last week). It’s all about Reed and everyone else just happened to get stuck with him. 

I hate Reed. Maybe not as much as Doom does, but it’s close. 

I have my reasons.

If you know Reed well, chances are, you also hate him. If you don’t know him, you’re lucky. If you don’t hate him… keep reading. 

Reed has always been always the intended protagonist of the Fantastic Four. They might have called it a family book but really, you tuned in every month to find out who is bugging Reed and whether he manages to fix everything this time. That’s who he is, he fixes everything. Mostly through the power of science, occasionally by stretching in the most ridiculous way. 

Reed is recognized by CB writers as a hero, not just a hero in a cape and mask sense (he doesn’t even wear those) but the cool-headed, smart guy, the focal point of the team and the narrative. You are supposed to see yourself in him and imitate his approach. 

Everybody cares about him, everybody talks about him, and in those rare moments when he’s presumed dead, everybody mourns him. 

But Reed just isn’t a good person. There are things about him that don’t just fail to align with heroism, they’re plain vile.

He’s a liar

Reed is a liar. It’s not just that he omits relevant details like, say, forgetting to inform the whole team that they are slowly dying, or warning them that he’s keeping a dangerous gate in the basement. This is absolutely a pattern with Reed and instead of getting mad at him, people just accept it as a part of his character. Even if they do get pissed off, they eventually forgive him. Then all of that repeats. To be fair, I probably should be more mad at the dysfunctional family that enables his behavior. 

But it’s still him. The logical path he loves so much to take inevitably leads him to the conclusion that it’s time for yet another lie. He’s not above covering one lie with another, and it comes off almost childish (not in the adorable sense). What I mean is, he is afraid of being judged because he knows what he’s doing is wrong but he simultaneously believes that he is right because he knows better. Again, this comes down to him claiming to be the smartest man on Earth. Which is ridiculous. The smartest man in physics is still the stupidest when it comes to art or magic. And he admits both things himself yet refuses to accept the fact that he knows almost nothing. 

Besides, both his daughter and Lunella are easily smarter than he is. 

He’s a hypocrite 

Reed is a terrible hypocrite. We don’t talk about that often, because the stories that allow you to notice that lie far apart. During the Civil War, he was all happy to serve the government. It is a big part of his life, he’s always been ‘public’ and ‘legitimate’. In the eyes of the law anyway. So when the question of whether or not to register appeared, he made a call for everyone. Happily so, and he went along with punishing everyone who opposed it. Except for his family, of course. It smells awfully similar to the way dictators operate so I guess we should be thankful Reed doesn’t have those ambitions. 

But when the tables turn and Reed has to answer for all he’s done, he believes that he is judged harshly. Of course, it turns out to be a villain’s plot but he never really stops to think how his actions were questionable at best. And he isn’t prepared to take responsibility the same way he expected others to. He thinks it’s unfair. 

He’s a garbage person 

Essentially, the problem is Reed not knowing when to stop. Reed is stubborn, we already know that. He is convinced that he knows what is best for everyone. He believes that his view of the world and how things should be is the correct one. The mathematically correct one, I mean, he did write all those equations on all those walls. This is what eventually led to the Civil War, and this is what eventually led to the Secret Wars. The two most notable events on 616. Reed’s math allegedly allowed him to predict the future, and in that future, he saw Doom. JK but he did see that superheroes will destroy the world if they keep on unchecked. And he did see the possibility of incursions. So he built 42 and threw his friends there. He experimented on Speedball to the point of torture because the government said it was ok. He got together with the Illuminati pre-Secret Wars convinced that they could definitely stop the incursions and they failed. They would’ve gotten everyone killed and, big shocker, the only ones he ended up saving were himself and his family (although Justice finally said “Hell no!’ and his family perished.)

But Reed sure knew what was right.

With that same attitude of knowing what’s best, he stomps around Latveria, trying to liberate it. He returns there every time and every time acts surprised when he discovers that Latverian people don’t want his liberty. They don’t want him, they like Doom. 

I feel like deep down Reed believes that his unique intellect allows him to see things more clearly than any of us mortals. And because of that, everyone should sleep well, putting their trust in him. Whether he invents another doomsday device (and promises not to use it), keeps Ultimate Nullifier in his nightstand, or stores a gate to anywhere in his basement. Everyone is supposed to trust him until turns out that his 3-year-old accidentally opened it. That’s happened a few times and if anything, we should know by now that Reed is anything but trustworthy. 

He never stops to think “Should I?” Because the answer is pretty much always “No.”

He’s an awful husband 

Back in the day, Sue often ended up on the other side of Reed’s outbursts. His smug attitude toward her was always uncomfortable, to say the least. He diminished her and everything she did because he deemed it irrelevant. It barely changed until the writers elevated her almost to his level by making her a doctor of Archaeology. While I appreciate them giving her some interests other than making sandwiches for everyone who resides in the BB, does it mean that they agree with Reed? That everything she did, whether she wanted to be an actress, ran their company, charities, or simply stayed at home with the kids, is not good enough? It makes sense in terms of their shared interests, but the only thing it gives me is doubts about him even loving Sue. Unfortunately, it seems like he sees her as a trophy wife he never could’ve gotten. When he talks about Sue, he often says that he studied her, like she’s an object that fascinates him. This kind of explains why he can’t relate to her, refuses to trust her, and doesn’t always care how his actions would affect her. 

When Sue was Malice, everything she told him was pretty genuine. There is a trope where heroes say the worst things under the influence, yet these things are rooted in reality. And that’s what happened here. 

There was another piece of truth Reed got when Johnny had a fight with Sue (about keeping from him the fact that the whole team’s powers were deteriorating, and their bodies too), he told her “You’re treating me like he treats you!” Reed didn’t react and that was never addressed again. Too bad, we all know that’s true. Reed has no respect for Sue. Even Reed knows that, I just don’t think he gets it. 

Let’s not forget that Sue served him divorce papers. What a time that was.

He’s a terrible father 

He starts out as an oblivious parent who doesn’t really care. As long as the kid can’t speak it’s not his problem, right? Hence multiple babysitters and Franklin spending half of his childhood with Agatha,  in Attilan, and at Alicia’s place. Franklin is a creator, not a scientific one either and that’s something Reed can’t understand. That’s why he’s been having a hard time even connecting to his son. Okay, he might not be the easiest kid to connect to but with the constant neglect he’s experienced, no wonder he feels like a disappointment to everyone. 

Val has a good father, Doom. He’s actually more of a parent to her than Reed, even if she’s the child Reed actually likes. Unless that’s just him being possessive. Just like with Sue (whenever she had her Namor eras) Reed is jealous of Val’s bond with Doom and as soon as he feels like he’s losing her, he gets mildly irritated. That’s exactly it, he’s not even properly furious – he just gets upset and focuses on work. 

Even all the family adventures they went on, or that time after Secret Wars when Reed decided that Ben and Johnny should believe their family is dead (including the kids), couldn’t make up for that. After all, Reed probably spent more time in his mobile lab than with kids. And when he got bored he happily ditched everyone except Frank and Val. So much for calling them all “their kids”. They are better off anyway because Reed doesn’t consider their feelings. At least he treats them like adults, since he doesn’t consider them either. 

He’s unkind and a trash friend

There is no genuine kindness in Reed. It’s almost like he pretends to be a loving husband, parent, and friend. 

Reed has no respect for his family or friends. If he had, he would’ve considered them whenever he made a decision. Again, it comes back to him believing he can’t make a mistake (check how long he’d been agonizing over the first space mission). Yet the vast majority of Reed’s actions vary from mean to straight-up creepy. 

Even the seemingly selfless gesture of turning his team into celebrities was his pathetic plea out of guilt. He never asked any of them whether they even wanted to be famous or heroes. He felt guilty (that’s something, I guess) for turning Ben into The Thing, and complicating things for Sue and Johnny (although, they probably would’ve been fine). 

But that’s a pattern that follows Reed everywhere and everybody ends up getting hurt.

Despite claiming to love his wife and kids, care about his friend, and tolerate Johnny, he is unkind to them. He views and moves them as pawns to where he wants them to be, all the while faking the perfect family man and good friend facade. And that’s the new Reed, the old one barely pretended. 

Let’s face it, Reed and Ben don’t have much in common except the collective trauma of getting powers and fighting Doom. The funny part is, Reed wants to be friends with Doom but Doom sees through his BS (okay, I might be giving props to the dictator here but ain’t he right?)

He’s way too full of himself

The self-proclaimed smartest man on Earth, Reed lives in the world of science. He is obsessed with math and he believes that math will solve everything. Spoiler: it won’t. He knows that, too. When Doom kidnaps his family and locks baby Franklin in Hell, Reed wastes so much time arguing with Strange over his aptitude for magic, that the kid ends up traumatized. For a while Franklin couldn’t tell the difference between Hell and Reality, all because his father couldn’t accept that he doesn’t know everything. 

This is absolutely a pattern with Reed — he doesn’t believe in ghosts, vampires, probably even werewolves. Meanwhile, he knows actual gods and had a witch for a nanny. If anything, this is a sign of stubbornness and that’s one of the worst barriers for wisdom. So good at math he might be, a genius — I don’t think so. That’s not all there is to it, because there are absolutely people smarter than Reed with a more flexible mind. I have to give points to him for recognizing that eventually and forming Future Foundation but he still has ways to go. So far, math has been a source of trouble more often than not. His inventions and his equations that predict the end of everything force him to take the most ridiculous approach in trying to solve problems before they arrive. And if that’s how we see Reed, imagine how irritating it is to Doom. 

And while we’re at it, they might have changed the origin so that Reed’s original calculations weren’t incorrect but that was wrong. The poetic justice of math, the only thing he truly trusted, betraying him, that was beautiful. If only Reed could understand art. 

He’s dull 

Let’s face it, they can rewrite Reed’s history, they can try to make him fun, they can even hire a really good actor to play him, but Reed is incredibly dull. He’s boring and even his family doesn’t pretend he isn’t. He is not charming, has zero charisma, not funny, and really he’s extremely lucky he managed to get Sue to marry him (because with his other bad qualities and lack of charm idk what that was, unfortunate chemistry?) He’s even more lucky Ben was out of other options friend-wise, and Johnny was just around. Otherwise, Reed would’ve died alone which is frankly, what he very much deserves. 

That’s not even half of his misdeeds, just the ones that were on the top of my mind. But trust me, if you spend almost a year reading about this guy, you will likely hate him just as much. 

[glowettee]

Hi glowettee!

I'm such a fan

You're such a help for me!!

If possible

I have two requests

So kinda context heavy lols sorry

I keep acting liek an idiot near these kids in my class. Can you give me ways to maintain my dignity? Stuff to remember? I look back on those moments and die of embarresment

Signs + how to deal with burnout. I'm sick, stressed, and feeling like shit, all because of my exams. I'm feeling like i'm drowning in sticky tar.

If not, it's cool! Love your work!

✦ how to maintain your dignity (even when you feel like a total idiot) + how to escape burnout ✦

═@glowettee═══════════════════════════════════✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　 . ✦ . ︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧

hi angel, @theprettygirlmantra first of all. deep breath. 💌 the fact that you’re even aware of these things means you’re already growing, evolving, and stepping into a higher version of yourself. i promise you, everybody has those “why did i do that?” moments. but here’s the secret: dignity isn’t about never making mistakes. it’s about how you carry yourself afterward. let’s talk. and thank you so much for being a fan of my blog, you are such a sweetheart. i really hope this post can help you <33 you are NOT an idiot, never talk down on yourself, you're amazing!! (love your username btw, jennie is literally my mother <33 )

════════════════════════════════════════════ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　 . ✦ . ︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧

part one: how to stop embarrassing yourself & maintain your dignity

first of all. stop punishing yourself for being human. seriously. confidence isn’t about never being awkward, it’s about owning yourself even when you are. but if you’re looking for ways to level up your presence and hold onto your dignity, here’s what you need to remember:

💡 how to maintain dignity & stop secondhand embarrassment from ruining your life:

✦ pause before you react. so much embarrassment happens because we panic and fill the silence with something cringey. instead, take a second. slow down. think. the more controlled you are, the more graceful you appear.

✦ adopt the ‘mystery girl’ energy. not everything needs a reaction. not everything needs to be laughed at. being slightly unreadable makes you seem effortlessly cool. learn the power of a knowing smile, a slow blink, and a soft “hmm” instead of a nervous giggle.

✦ practice “less is more.” instead of over-explaining or correcting yourself when you say something that seems dumb, just… let it be. silence is powerful. the more you try to “fix” an awkward moment, the more awkward it becomes.

✦ detach from the moment. what feels mortifying to you? barely registers to other people. seriously, no one’s replaying your awkward moments as much as you are. shift your focus outward instead of spiraling inward.

✦ fake elegance until you become elegance. imagine how your dream self would react. would she laugh it off effortlessly? Would she just not care? embody that energy.

✦ own your presence. the most magnetic people aren’t the ones who never embarrass themselves. they’re the ones who don’t care when they do. instead of shrinking, laugh at yourself gracefully and move on. confidence isn’t never falling. it’s standing tall afterward.

part two: how to escape burnout when you feel like you’re drowning

burnout isn’t just exhaustion. it’s soul-deep depletion. it’s waking up tired. it’s feeling like you’re moving through sticky tar (your words, which. perfect description, btw). it’s like your brain refuses to function no matter how much you want it to. but burnout isn’t a sign that you’re weak. it’s a sign that your mind and body are desperate for rest. here’s how you actually recover:

💡 how to deal with burnout & reset your mind:

✦ stop forcing productivity--embrace intentional rest. your brain isn’t a machine. if you push through burnout, you’ll only make it worse. instead of guilt-tripping yourself, give yourself permission to fully reset. (yes, this means actual rest. not scrolling endlessly on your phone and calling it “self-care.”)

✦ romanticize recovery. drink tea from your prettiest mug. take warm showers with soft lighting. listen to music that feels like healing. treat your burnout recovery like a self-care ritual.

✦ switch up your study environment. burnout thrives in monotony. if you’ve been staring at the same desk, the same books, the same everything, your brain is crying for novelty. go to a café, change your study playlist, light a new candle. trick your brain into feeling new energy.

✦ nourish yourself like you would a sick friend. you’re not a failure. you’re exhausted. treat yourself with the same softness you would give a friend who was struggling. drink water. eat something nourishing. take naps without guilt.

✦ create a soft study schedule. instead of forcing 8 hours of aggressive studying, try short, focused study sessions with built-in breaks. burnout often happens when you’re working harder, not smarter.

✦ redefine success for the moment. when you’re burned out, success isn’t about doing everything. it’s about doing something. even if that means just one good study session today. progress is progress.

mindy’s personal tips for regaining dignity & avoiding burnout 💌

✧ when in doubt, embody ‘calm & collected’ energy. seriously. nothing is more powerful than a girl who moves intentionally. if you feel awkward, pretend you don’t. if you feel embarrassed, pretend it’s not a big deal. it’s all about perception.

✧ romanticize solitude. people who don’t need to be constantly liked? Who can sit in silence and just be? Those are the people with the most magnetic energy. Focus on you. and everything else will align.

✧ replace “i’m so behind” with “i am recalibrating.” burnout guilt is a trap. you’re not behind. you’re recharging. you’re restoring your energy so you can come back stronger. change your narrative.

✧ keep a ‘reset’ ritual. every time you feel overwhelmed, have a go-to reset routine. mine? stretching, making matcha, listening to a playlist that calms my nervous system, and journaling my thought that grounds me. find yours.

✧ remember: you’re evolving. every embarrassing moment? just proof that you’re growing. every burnout phase? just a chapter. step back, zoom out, and remind yourself: this is just one moment in your story.

you are not your embarrassing moments. you are not your burnout. you are a constantly evolving masterpiece, learning how to exist as her. breathe. reset. embody. you got this.

xoxo mindy

[vandme12]

Instead of an influential reader who is always in the spotlight of the public. The reader has power and influence underground? They are part of a large mafia group or IS the leader and boss of said group. They have only the best of the best on their team and is able to get rid of some of the most powerful people with just the snap of their finger. How does the KC cast found out about their little secret? And how would they react? Love your writing and can’t wait to see how you end up doing this little ask of mine! (I was the one who requested the powerful reader AND ABSOLUTELY LOVED IT!! Ended up sending this ask and another one! Hopefully you find this concept just as interesting as my last)

I really really love your requests! Thank you for giving me these!!!

You were careful—so careful. You covered your tracks, played your role perfectly. To them, you were just another voice in the dark, someone with an uncanny knack for understanding their world.

But secrets don’t stay buried forever.

And when they found out the truth—that you weren’t just an observer, but a kingmaker, a ghost of the underworld who could make entire empires crumble with a single whisper—oh, it changed everything.

Ronin

"Oh, love… you should’ve told me sooner. I would've worn my best suit to our first date."

Ronin lives for chaos, but this? This is beyond anything he could’ve imagined. You, the one person who held his attention longer than a fleeting moment, were above him this whole time—a kingpin, a puppet master, a god among killers. And you never even flaunted it. You just sat in their little chat, watching, waiting, smiling.

He can’t stop thinking about it. The sheer power you hold. The things you could do with just a whisper. And you let him talk, let him think he had the upper hand in those playful little chats. You toyed with him.

It makes him want to break you. Or kneel at your feet. Maybe both.

Expect his flirting to become even more dangerous, insistent, and possessive. The way he looks at you now? It’s different. Before, you were interesting. Now? Now you are his new favorite obsession.

"Tell me, sweetheart… does the kingpin need a knight? Or would you rather have a monster at your side?"

V (Vigilante)

"You… run what?"

V’s world is black and white—he deals with criminals, ends them when necessary. But now? He finds out you’re at the top of the very food chain he’s been trying to tear down.

He wants to hate you for it. Wants to believe you’re just another villain. But the problem is… you’ve never been needlessly cruel. You’re calculated. Precise. You never waste blood for the sake of it. And that makes things complicated.

He starts watching you differently. Every word you say, every action, trying to gauge if you’re as bad as the people he hunts—or if you’re something else entirely.

But the worst part? He still likes you. And that pisses him off more than anything.

"Tell me—when you pull the strings, do you ever think about the people left hanging?"

"Ohhh, so that’s why you never blinked when we talked about blood~."

Angel plays with fire for fun, but you? You are the fire. And she’s not stupid—she knows when she’s in the presence of something far more dangerous than she can handle.

That doesn’t mean she’ll back off, though. If anything, she finds you fascinating. You’ve been playing in the dark this entire time, playing dumb while they all ran their mouths. That’s sexy as hell, honestly.

She gets bolder with her flirting, but there’s an edge to it now—respect. She won’t push too hard. Not until she knows exactly where your lines are.

She is sweet with you, upset you didn't tell her but you had your reasons.

"So, be honest—if I asked real nicely, Wanna be as model with me? You look dashing with your style of clothing."

Misaki

"HOLY SHIT—WAIT, SO LIKE, DO YOU HAVE, LIKE, A COOL MAFIA BASE?! CAN I SEE? CAN I JOIN? PLEASE???"

Misaki is way too excited about this. They are not scared. They should be, but they're not. If anything, they are impressed as hell.

Now they won’t stop asking stupid questions.

“How many guys you got? Like a hundred? A thousand?”

“You ever had someone’s kneecaps busted? CAN I WATCH NEXT TIME?”

“OH OH—do you have a secret underground lair?! Tell me you do. Please.”

You might have to physically stop them before he starts trying to apply for a position in your organization. The little gremlin is way too eager for their own good.

"C’mon, boss—just gimme one job. One tiny murder job! I won’t even mess it up that bad!"

[veria01]

Shattered Illusions

Gojo Satoru x reader fanfic

Angst?? Arguing between couples

The moon hung high in the sky, illuminating the desolate street where the two of you stood, tension crackling like a live wire between you. Shadows twisted in the cool night air, but none held more weight than the ones cast by Gojo Satoru. His usual playful demeanor was nowhere to be found; instead, it was replaced by a storm brewing in his piercing blue eyes.

“Why can’t you just listen to me for once?” he shouted, his voice echoing through the empty buildings around you. It bounced off the walls, amplifying the hurt beneath the anger.

You crossed your arms protectively, refusing to back down. “Because I refuse to be coddled, Satoru! I won’t just sit back and let you fight my battles for me!” The defiance in your tone matched the fire in your belly. You knew how stubborn he could be, but the thought of being some pawn in his world of sorcery made your blood boil.

His expression turned incredulous, an expression you had seen countless times before. “This isn’t about coddling! This is about survival! You have no idea what’ll happen out there! You think you can just jump into a fight without consequences?”

You took a step forward, lowering your voice as if that would shield the weight of your emotions. “And you think you’re the only one who can protect everyone? I’m tired of being the one on the sidelines, watching you risk everything while I’m kept in the dark!”

The silence that followed was deafening, your breaths mingling with the sound of distant sirens. Satoru’s eyes softened for just a fraction of a moment, but then his brows knitted together, frustration boiling over again. “I’m not keeping you in the dark! I’m trying to keep you safe! I care about you!”

“Care about me?” you scoffed, your heart racing with both anger and pain. “You mean you want to control me! You want me to fit neatly into your idea of what I should be, and it’s suffocating!”

“That’s not fair!” He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his voice rising. “You know how dangerous this world is! You think you can handle it on your own? You’re not invincible!”

“And you think you can just decide what I can or cannot do!” Your voice was louder now, the words pouring out like a dam breaking. “You don’t get to dictate my life! You don’t own me!”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you’d just listen! I’m trying to protect you from everything I’ve seen, everything I’ve lost!” His eyes were fierce, glimmering with unshed emotions.

“But what about me? What about what I want?” Your voice cracked, the fight in you wavering. “Do I really have to endanger myself for you to recognize that I’m not helpless?”

His silence was deafening, and the hurt on his face caused your stomach to twist painfully. “You’re not helpless,” he finally said, his tone softer, but the frustration still simmers beneath. “But you are reckless. You don’t understand that lives are on the line. Our lives.”

“Then teach me!” you pleaded, desperate for him to see the truth in your eyes. “Stop treating me like a child. I want to learn. I want to stand beside you, not behind you!”

“That’s not how this works!” he shouted, voice raw. “You don’t just get to waltz into danger because you think it’s romantic! This is real! This is life or death!”

“It’s not about romance!” you screamed back, tears blurring the edges of your vision. “It’s about respect! It’s about being seen as an equal! I won’t let you box me in like some fragile object that might break! I’m here, I’m willing to fight, and you refuse to even let me try!”

“You don’t get it!” he yelled, frustration mixing with something you couldn’t quite place—sadness, perhaps. “You think this is just about skill? It’s about losing everything—I’ve already seen it happen to people I’ve cared for. I can’t bear the thought of losing you too.”

“Then stop pushing me away!” you replied, voice trembling as the anger seeped out, leaving only vulnerability. “This isn’t the way to protect me. This only drives us apart.”

His expression softened again, the hardness in his gaze now a reflection of hurt and something deeper—fear. “You think I want this? To fight you instead of alongside you?”

“Then prove it!” you challenged, the fire reigniting within you. “If you care, then show me. Show me that you believe in me as much as I believe in you!”

He stepped closer, a flash of uncertainty crossing his features. “You want me to put you in danger? To let you fight?”

“Not in danger, Satoru—by my side,” you insisted, leaning into your conviction. “But I need you to trust me. Trust that I can handle this, too.”

For a moment, you saw the flicker of hope in his eyes, but it quickly faded, overshadowed by the weight of his doubts. “I don’t know if I can,” he admitted quietly, his voice almost breaking.

“Then you’re the one who doesn’t trust me.” The realization struck like a slap to the face, and the raw pain twisted in your chest. “I am not asking you to let me rush into the fray recklessly; I’m asking you to see me. To see that I can be strong, too.”

The silence hung between you, heavy and fraught with unspoken feelings. Your heart raced as you awaited his response.

Finally, he took a deep breath, rubbing his temples as if trying to push away the encroaching shadows. “I just… I can’t lose you,” he whispered, the quiet anguish exposing the vulnerability he rarely showed.

“And I can’t lose you either. So can we meet in the middle?”

It was a delicate proposal, but the walls surrounding his heart seemed fortified. “I just don’t know if that’s possible,” he murmured, the weight of both rejection and fear evident in his voice.

You swallowed hard, feeling the tears threaten to spill over. “If we don’t try, then we’ll only keep drifting farther apart. Is that what you really want?”

Gojo’s azure gaze locked onto yours, the tempest of emotions swirling within him. You could see the resistance grappling with something softer—something that wanted to believe.

“I… I’ll try,” he finally said, each word a hesitant step toward a compromise. “But you have to promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I will,” you vowed, tears welling and spilling down your cheeks in relief. “I promise.”

Taking a step back, he scrubbed at his face in frustration, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his features. “I just…”

“Yeah, I know. It’s complicated.” You tried to lighten the mood, managing a small smile despite the tumultuous feelings swirling between you.

Gojo’s expression softened then, something warm breaking through the remnants of tension. “You drive me insane, you know that?”

“Good,” you quipped, returning to your playful self, “someone needs to keep you grounded.”

“Okay, we’ll figure this out together,” he said with a reluctant grin, the shadows slowly dissipating from his visage. “But no more sneaking around, alright? You have to promise me that.”

“Deal,” you replied, feeling a warmth spread throughout you. It was a long way from a perfect solution, but it was a start—a delicate truce amidst the chaos of your lives intertwined in a dangerous world.

As you stood together beneath the moonlit sky, the weight of your argument lingered, but for the first time in a while, there was also a glimmer of hope—a promise that you could navigate the darkness together, side by side.

[jiminomenon]

punk! karina and mean girl! reader in detention

pairing: punk! karina x mean girl! reader

word count: 2.5k+

summary: stuck in detention together, jimin and y/n do anything but serve their punishment quietly. while y/n tries to pass the time without losing her mind, jimin makes it her mission to get under her skin—tapping her pen against the desk, whispering teasing remarks, and finding every excuse to pull her into trouble. between stolen glances, quiet laughter, and a battle of wills, the tension between them only grows. by the time detention ends, it’s clear that for these two, even punishment feels like a game they both enjoy playing.

from my series: match made in hell

detention was the worst place to be on a friday afternoon, especially when it was because of something as stupid as “inappropriate conduct in the school hallway.” as if jimin casually slipping her hand into the back pocket of y/n’s plaid skirt was some kind of felony.

it wasn’t like she was making out with her against the lockers—this time, at least. but of course, the teachers had it out for them, always looking for a reason to punish the school’s two biggest troublemakers. not that y/n cared about their dumb rules, but wasting an entire hour sitting in silence? now that was a crime.

she sat at the back of the room, arms crossed, leg bouncing impatiently under the desk. the classroom smelled like old books and dust, the air thick with boredom from the other students forced to serve their time.

jimin, however, looked completely unbothered. she was slouched in her chair beside y/n, boots kicked up onto the desk in front of her like she owned the place, chewing lazily on a piece of gum she probably wasn’t even supposed to have. the way she carried herself, so effortlessly cool and careless, made y/n both admire and want to strangle her at the same time.

she exhaled sharply, side-eyeing her girlfriend before finally breaking the silence between them.

“this is your fault,” y/n muttered, glaring at jimin out of the corner of her eye. her arms stayed crossed, fingers digging into her sleeves as if physically restraining herself from smacking that cocky grin off jimin’s face.

jimin merely smirked, tilting her head toward y/n. “you didn’t seem to mind earlier, babe.” her voice was smooth, teasing, dripping with the same arrogance that got her into trouble in the first place.

y/n scoffed, rolling her eyes. “yeah, well, that was before i realized i’d be rotting in here for an hour because of you.” she leaned back in her chair, shifting her gaze to the front of the room, where mr. choi was pretending to grade papers but was probably just counting down the minutes until he could leave.

jimin wasn’t done, though. she leaned in, voice dropping just low enough for only y/n to hear. “you know… we could sneak out.”

y/n turned her head slightly, raising an eyebrow. “and get caught? you really don’t think ahead, do you?”

“c’mon,” jimin grinned, voice dripping with mischief. “since when did you care about rules?”

y/n hated that jimin had a point. she was the last person to care about rules. if anything, she had broken more than jimin had—just in a more strategic way. but she also wasn’t stupid. and she knew that with their reputation, one more stunt would land them in suspension, which meant no sneaking around between classes, no excuses to “stay late for group projects,” no making out behind the gym when they were supposed to be in p.e. detention was bad, but being kept apart? that was worse.

“you’re insufferable,” y/n muttered, shaking her head.

“and yet,” jimin drawled, dragging her knuckles along y/n’s arm now, sending a slow, deliberate shiver up her spine, “you’re madly in love with me.”

“debatable.”

jimin let out a low chuckle, shifting even closer, her breath warm against y/n’s ear. “oh yeah?” she murmured, fingers now ghosting over y/n’s thigh, making her muscles tense despite herself. “wanna test that theory?”

y/n clenched her jaw, knowing exactly what jimin was trying to do. this was her game—push, push, push until y/n finally snapped and kissed her just to shut her up. it was infuriating. but also? kind of hot.

“you’re lucky we’re in public, meanie,” jimin added, her smirk widening as she leaned back, watching y/n’s reaction like a cat playing with its food.

y/n scoffed, shaking off the warmth creeping up her neck. “i’m lucky? you’re the one who wouldn’t survive in here without me.”

jimin hummed, pretending to consider this. “yeah? so what, you’d just leave me all alone?”

y/n didn’t answer immediately. instead, she reached over and took jimin’s hand in hers, lacing their fingers together like it was second nature. she kept her gaze forward, acting nonchalant, but the way her thumb absentmindedly stroked jimin’s skin gave her away. jimin blinked, caught off guard, before her smirk softened into something less cocky, more genuine.

“guess i’m the lucky one then,” she murmured, giving y/n’s hand a small squeeze.

y/n sighed, pretending to be annoyed, but she didn’t pull away. detention was boring, sure. but if she had to be stuck in here, at least she wasn’t stuck alone.

jimin was quiet for a while after that, which was a rare occurrence. normally, she always had some smartass comment, some teasing remark to get under y/n’s skin. but now, she just sat there, hand still in y/n’s, tracing slow, lazy patterns against her palm with her thumb. y/n didn’t say anything about it, didn’t acknowledge the way her heart did a little flip at the feeling. she just let it happen, pretending she wasn’t affected.

the rest of the classroom was dead silent except for the occasional sound of someone shifting in their seat or mr. choi clearing his throat. the clock on the wall ticked painfully slow, each second dragging on like the universe was punishing them specifically. y/n tapped her fingers against the desk, already growing impatient.

“if you’re gonna get me in trouble,” she muttered, keeping her voice low, “at least make it worth my while.”

jimin perked up at that, turning her head with a grin. “oh? what’s this? my mean girl wants a little fun?”

y/n rolled her eyes but smirked slightly. “i’m saying, if we’re stuck here, we might as well make it interesting.”

jimin’s grin widened, the troublemaker in her awakening immediately. “interesting, huh? what are you suggesting, princess?”

y/n leaned in slightly, making sure mr. choi wasn’t looking before whispering, “bet you can’t get out of here without him noticing.”

jimin’s eyes practically sparked with excitement. “oh, babe, you really do love me.”

“debatable,” y/n shot back, but her smirk gave her away.

jimin didn’t waste another second. she stretched her arms above her head like she was just adjusting, then, in one fluid motion, slid down lower in her seat, boots soundlessly hitting the floor. she moved like she had done this a hundred times before, which, knowing her, she probably had. y/n watched, amused, as jimin slid under the desk, crouching low, making sure mr. choi’s eyes were still glued to his book.

then, ever so slowly, jimin started crawling toward the door.

y/n had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. the sight of the school’s resident bad girl—tattoos peeking from under her sleeves, ripped uniform, dark eyeliner still sharp despite the dim lighting—literally crawling on the floor like a damn cat burglar was almost too much. she covered her mouth, pretending to rest her chin on her palm as she kept watching.

jimin was almost at the door now. just a few more inches.

and then—

“ms. yu, where do you think you’re going?”

y/n shut her eyes, exhaling through her nose. so close.

jimin froze mid-crawl, then slowly, slowly, turned her head toward mr. choi with the guiltiest yet most shameless expression y/n had ever seen.

“uh…” jimin started, blinking up at their teacher like a deer caught in headlights. “dropped my pen?”

mr. choi looked unimpressed. “get back in your seat. now.”

jimin sighed dramatically, getting up with zero shame, brushing invisible dust off her pants. she strolled back to her desk, plopping down beside y/n like nothing happened.

“so close,” y/n muttered under her breath, shaking her head.

jimin leaned in, whispering, “hey, at least i tried. you know you love me for it.”

y/n scoffed, looking away to hide her smile. detention might’ve sucked, but at least with jimin around, it was never boring.

jimin didn’t even look the slightest bit ashamed. in fact, she looked proud of herself, stretching her arms behind her head as if she hadn’t just been caught trying to escape like a cartoon villain. y/n shot her a look, a mix of amusement and exasperation, but jimin only grinned in response.

“what?” she whispered, nudging y/n’s knee under the desk.

“you’re an idiot,” y/n whispered back, shaking her head. “next time, maybe don’t be so obvious?”

jimin gasped, pressing a hand to her chest in mock offense. “excuse me, i was incredibly stealthy.”

y/n snorted. “you literally crawled like a raccoon digging through trash. it was pathetic.”

jimin leaned in, resting her chin on her hand, eyes flickering with something teasing. “oh? so you were watching me that closely, huh?”

y/n’s face heated up. she opened her mouth to respond—probably to call jimin insufferable again—but before she could, mr. choi’s voice cut through the room.

“both of you. zip it.”

they both turned their heads forward at the same time, mumbling a half-hearted “yes, sir.”

for a few minutes, they actually behaved. y/n tapped her nails against the desk, staring out the window, watching as the sky slowly turned gold. outside, students were probably on their way home, couples were probably getting ready for their friday night dates, and here she was—stuck in a musty classroom with her reckless, shameless girlfriend who had no idea how to sit still.

because, of course, jimin wasn’t done being annoying.

it started with her finger, lightly tracing random shapes on y/n’s arm. slow, soft strokes, up and down, barely there. y/n pretended not to notice.

then it was her foot, nudging against y/n’s under the desk. y/n kicked her ankle lightly in response, but jimin took that as encouragement.

then—then—it was her hand, slipping under the desk, resting on y/n’s thigh.

y/n’s breath hitched.

she turned her head slightly, giving jimin a warning glare. “don’t.”

jimin smiled. “don’t what?”

y/n grabbed her wrist, nails digging in just enough to make a point. “don’t start something you can’t finish.”

jimin’s smirk widened, eyes darkening just a little. “who says i can’t finish?”

y/n let out a sharp breath through her nose, grip tightening. “you are so lucky we’re in public.”

“you keep saying that,” jimin whispered, voice low, “but i think you’re the lucky one, meanie.”

before y/n could respond, mr. choi sighed loudly, closing his book with a thud. “y/n. jimin. do i need to separate you two?”

they both turned to look at him, blinking innocently.

“no, sir,” y/n said, tone perfectly polite.

“never, sir,” jimin added, smiling sweetly.

mr. choi looked at them for a long moment, then exhaled through his nose. “i don’t get paid enough for this,” he muttered, rubbing his temples.

y/n bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing. jimin, however, wasn’t as composed—she let out a snicker before covering it with a fake cough.

mr. choi checked the clock, sighed again, and waved a hand. “just go. both of you. detention’s over.”

y/n didn’t need to be told twice. she grabbed her bag and was already halfway out the door before jimin even got up, a satisfied smirk on her face.

“so,” jimin said once they were in the hallway, sliding an arm around y/n’s waist, “wanna go finish what we started?”

y/n groaned, shoving her off. “you’re the worst.”

“yeah, yeah,” jimin grinned, lacing their fingers together anyway, “but i’m your worst.”

y/n sighed, shaking her head—but she didn’t let go.

they walked through the empty hallways together, the sounds of their footsteps echoing against the tiled floor. the sunset cast long shadows through the windows, painting the walls in warm hues of orange and pink. y/n should’ve been annoyed—detention had been a waste of time, and jimin had spent the whole thing making it her personal mission to drive y/n insane—but instead, she just felt… content.

jimin swung their intertwined hands slightly, glancing over at y/n with that ever-present smirk. “so, where to now?”

“home,” y/n replied, rolling her eyes. “unlike you, i actually have things to do.”

“boring,” jimin drawled. “c’mon, let’s do something fun. let’s sneak into the pool, or steal the principal’s parking sign again, or—”

“or we could do absolutely none of that,” y/n interrupted, giving her a deadpan look.

jimin pouted, leaning her head on y/n’s shoulder as they walked. “you’re such a buzzkill.”

“and you’re a menace,” y/n shot back, though she didn’t push jimin off.

they reached the school gates, the cool evening air brushing against their skin. the streets were mostly empty, students having already left for the day. for a moment, they just stood there, the world feeling strangely quiet.

then, jimin suddenly tugged y/n closer, wrapping her arms around her waist. “so you really just wanna go home, huh?” she murmured, tilting her head up.

y/n raised an eyebrow. “yes. obviously.”

jimin hummed, then, in a move so quick y/n barely had time to react, she leaned in and pressed a kiss to the corner of y/n’s mouth. it wasn’t a deep kiss, just a teasing brush of lips, but it sent a warm shiver down y/n’s spine nonetheless.

“jimin—” y/n started, but jimin pulled back with a satisfied grin.

“just a little reward for surviving detention with me,” jimin said, winking.

y/n exhaled sharply, trying to suppress the way her heartbeat had picked up. “you’re impossible.”

“and yet, you love me,” jimin shot back, voice annoyingly smug.

y/n sighed, then—because she hated giving jimin the upper hand—she grabbed the front of jimin’s leather jacket, yanked her forward, and kissed her properly.

it was fast and unexpected, but it did the trick. when y/n pulled away, jimin was left momentarily stunned, blinking at her like she had just short-circuited.

y/n smirked. “see you tomorrow, troublemaker.”

and with that, she turned on her heel and walked off, but she didn’t get far. the low, familiar roar of an engine starting made her pause.

jimin swung a leg over her motorcycle, the matte black machine gleaming under the streetlights. she rolled her shoulders, adjusting the collar of her jacket before slipping on her helmet. even with her face covered, y/n could feel the smirk she was giving her.

“need a ride, princess?” jimin called over the engine, voice dripping with amusement.

y/n scoffed. “i’d rather walk.”

jimin revved the engine, tilting her head. “suit yourself, but if you change your mind…” she tapped the seat behind her. “this spot’s always yours.”

y/n didn’t answer, just shook her head with a small laugh before turning away. jimin watched her for a moment longer, then kicked the stand up, peeling off into the night, leaving behind the scent of smoke and leather in her wake.

God, i’m so in love with her, jimin thought, grinning under her helmet as she disappeared down the street.

[paisholotus]

My sweet Dumpling

Narrative

The stars twinkled above them, a backdrop of shimmering diamonds against the vast tapestry of night. The faint sounds of laughter and music from the distant homecoming dance faded into a comforting silence around them.

Clark turned slightly, casting a sideways glance at Honey, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight. Her eyes sparkled with joy, reflecting the happiness of the night they had shared. He took a deep breath, grateful for moments like this, where the world felt simple and right.

“Tonight was amazing,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Honey smiled, her cheeks flushed from the evening air, “It really was. I had so much fun.”

There was a comfortable pause, each lost in thoughts about the night—dancing under the lights, laughter shared, and the warmth of their connection. Clark felt a gentle squeeze on his hand, bringing him back to the moment.

“Do you ever think about the future?” Honey asked, her tone shifting slightly, a hint of seriousness weaving into their casual conversation.

Clark hesitated, the weight of her question settling in. “Sometimes,” he replied. “I think about what we want… where we want to be.”

Honey tilted her head, curious. “And what do you want?”

He thought for a moment, then replied, “I want to be with people I care about, making memories like this. It’s the little moments that matter.”

Honey looked deep into his eyes, her expression thoughtful. “I feel the same way. Moments like this, they make everything else fade away. Nothing else matters.”

As the cool breeze rustled the grass around them, Clark leaned his head back against a nearby tree, both of them enveloped in the tranquil atmosphere. It felt easy, being here, with her.

“Do you think we’ll still do this when we’re older?” Honey’s voice was soft, but it held a hint of hope.

“We’ll always find a way to make time for each other,” Clark affirmed, tightening his grip on her hand.

They lingered in the moment, steeped in the warmth of shared dreams and quiet promises, the stars above silently witnessing their connection deepened.

Clark took a deep breath, the air heavy with unspoken words. He turned to face Honey completely, her gaze still fixed in the distance, lost in thought. It was now or never. His heart raced, and he felt the soft pulse of vulnerability surge through him.

“Honey,” he began, his tone earnest, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to say.”

She turned to look at him, her curiosity piqued. “What is it, Clark?”

He could see her eyes glimmer with anticipation, and it gave him the courage he needed. “I’ve been thinking, especially tonight, about what we mean to each other. I… I love you.”

Honey's expression shifted, surprise mingling with a rush of emotions. “You love me?” she echoed, a hint of disbelief dancing in her voice.

“Yes, but it’s more than just friendship,” he continued, his heart pounding as he spoke. “I’ve felt this way for a while now. You’re not just my best friend; you mean so much more to me than that.”

The silence that followed felt like an eternity, and Clark’s stomach churned with both hope and dread. He was terrified of how she might respond.

Honey's breath caught as she processed his words, her eyes wide. “Clark, I…”

Before she could finish, he rushed to explain, “I know this might be a lot, and I don’t want to ruin our friendship. But I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore. You’ve been my rock, my confidant, and being with you feels… right.”

A soft smile began to form on her lips, and relief washed over him. “I feel something special between us too,” she admitted, her voice a soft whisper. “I just didn’t know you felt the same way.”

Clark's heart soared at her words. “So, what does this mean for us?” he asked, anticipation hanging in the air.

Honey paused, biting her lip as she contemplated. “I think we should explore this… whatever it is we have. I want to see where it leads.”

A grin broke across Clark’s face, the weight of unspoken fears lifting. “Really?” he asked, needing to hear it again.

“Yeah,” she replied, her cheeks flushing with warmth. “I’m excited… and a little scared, but mostly excited.”

They shared a moment of understanding, a bridge crossed into uncharted territory. Clark felt an overwhelming sense of happiness as he took her hand in both of his, their fingers intertwining.

“I’m glad,” he whispered, his eyes locked on hers. “I’ve wanted to say that for so long.”

Honey nestled closer, resting her head against his shoulder again, both comforted and exhilarated by the new depth of their relationship.

The tranquil night surrounded them, and the stars seemed to shine brighter as they sat together, hearts racing, ready to embrace this new chapter in their lives.

"My Sweet Dumpling loves me." She whispered, smiling. Clark kissed the top of her head and nodded, "I've always loved you." He whispered back.

[chameleonsd1sh]

been pondering luffy's aroaceness.

⚠️ CW: discussions of sex and sexuality ahead ⚠️

he's uninterested in getting married, uninterested in romance, and isn't enamoured with pretty women. he understands the classifications of beautiful and ugly and can identify them — he just doesn't care about them.

in reaction nami’s naked body, luffy's expression was the exact same as usopp's, more shocked than anything, while sanji had the typical heart eyes and dropped jaw. oda stated that luffy reacted to nami's body because usopp was there. he framed it as usopp’s presence influencing luffy to let out his “bad side” (sort of riling him up like a puppy?), implying that this is a part of his nature he just doesn’t express. i could, however, see him just acting that way for shits and giggles, because the others are doing it — maybe understanding the reason behind it, maybe not. regardless, what i found interesting was that he only reacted because his FRIEND reacted that way — taking cues from others for the acceptable behaviour. 

because this does contrast his usual behaviour. notice when he was on his own with boa hancock he was completely unaffected by a spell that should affect ANYONE if they have any sort of wickedness in their heart, including desire, when looking at her. nobody has ever been unaffected, regardless of age or gender. but he was. they chalk it up to his pure heart. in the moment he was scared of the spell, then confused as to why it didn't work. intriguingly, oda said “he’s interested, but not entranced by her.”

in my mind, i take all of this to mean that he isn't repulsed by sex or romance, just generally not focused on it. nudity doesn't bother him because he does not see the body as a sexual object. i think he is somewhere on the aroace spectrum, and he is definitely autistic and i believe that affects how he behaves about stuff like this (e.g. taking cues from usopp).

interested, but not entranced. interested, but not in a “wicked” way. i think luffy would be curious about sex. after all, he’s a very physical person — he loves to eat, he tends to move his body a lot and entertain himself that way. i see no reason he would be opposed to trying sex. additionally, although he is selfless in many ways, he is greedy when it comes to food — he’s quite gluttonous — and people — if he wants someone on his side, they’ll BE on his side. this greediness would likely extend to other aspects of his physical and interpersonal life — he would probably enjoy sex. and if that were true, i see no reason he would not continue doing it. luffy approaches things in the simplest way possible. this would surely apply to sex too — if it feels good, he’ll do it.

so luffy would HAVE sex, sure. but does he experience sexual attraction? there is no real evidence of it. i personally don’t believe he would experience sexual attraction — at least not in a typical way. i think he would have sex simply because he wants to. however, he might feel inspired to want to by being very impressed by someone, or by simply being riled up from some big fight. the former could be sexual attraction — wanting somebody because they did something really cool and you’re into it. like a tugging urge to be all over them — not always in a sexual way, but sometimes it goes there with specific people. so i suppose he experiences a certain degree of sexual attraction, but it’s really more extreme respect and excitement, and definitely more of an instinctive emotional thing than any physical reaction. it’s really a very luffy way of feeling it. he just wants.

luffy has no filter, saying whatever is on his mind at all times, sometimes without realizing it. he is often too honest for his own good. he does not really understand or follow social norms, so i think he wouldn't be awkward or weird about attraction. i think he would just be curious about it, for example asking questions that ppl wouldn't typically ask. and his friends would be like “HOW CAN YOU ASK THAT WITH SUCH CALMNESS?” and he'd be like “eh?”

i think, therefore, that he would also be fairly casual about sex without needing a romantic relationship. he would simply ask directly, or be rather clingy and then ask. it’s not a weird thing to him, and he doesn’t get why people are so strange about it. he’s also quite comfortable with his own body, and doesn’t seem uncomfortable with others seeing it (the "family jewels" scene is a good example). HOWEVER, i don’t believe he would have sex with just anybody. he would need to be close to them and trust them. i believe he would likely have some sort of queerplatonic bond with whatever partner he chooses.

i think that because of his autism luffy would not really differentiate between platonic and romantic love. he simplifies. what he does know is that he has a strong connection to everyone in his crew, and that he would trust them with his life. but would he sleep with just any of them? nah, i don’t think so. i think he would just know who he’d want to have sex with. he’d just know.

[shrimptacodaniels]

she wears my ring (eventually.)

“Is it just me, or are sparks flying?”

Janice doesn’t look up from her station - it’s an unspoken fact that Katrina can come bother her pretty much whenever. 

Thank goodness she’s not working on The Project right now. 

“If you can’t handle the heat-“ 

“Not what I said.” She feels Katrina’s hands slot around her waist. “What’chu working on?” 

“Nothing really. Are you busy?” 

“Hmmm, I could be…” Katrina shifts to press a kiss to her jaw - not an easy (nor advisable) feat when Janice is welding. “That is, if you have something you need me to do.” 

“Katrina Faulkner, are you flirting with me while I’m operating heavy machinery? That’s  dangerous.” 

“I like a little danger, and that depends.” She tightens her grip around Janice’s waist. “It’s only flirting if it works.” 

Damn. Her girlfriend is so hot and so stupid and Janice just can’t get enough of her. She sets down her torch gently, careful to turn it off first, and removes her welding helmet before she leans back into Katrina’s shoulder. 

“You brave enough to find out?” she teases, kissing the skin right by her ear. “Because I won’t outright tell you.” 

“I’m a good guesser,” Katrina whispers, playing with the hem of Janice’s shirt. This wasn’t the plan for the day, but Janice has learned more about spontaneity in the past few years than ever in her life. She’s happy to stop chasing routine if this is what interruption looks like. 

“Let’s test that theory.” She turns so they’re face to face, grabbing Katrina by the collar. 

“Now there’s an idea.” Katrina kisses her reverently, as if it’s the most important thing she can do. They sink into an easy rhythm, tangled together in a practiced fashion. It’s perfect now, the way they fit together. What used to be a flail of limbs, a clash of lips and tongue and teeth is soft and passionate and beautiful. United. 

Janice could marry her. 

She’s just about to voice that sentiment, fingers twisting roughly in Katrina’s hair, when a noise startles her out of it. 

Mrrrow.

They pull apart, breathing heavy. There’s a joking smile playing on Katrina’s slightly swollen lips. 

“That wasn’t you, was it?” 

Janice snorts. “Shut up. Probably means your boyfriend’s here.” 

“Don’t even joke about that,” Katrina protests. “Being straight sounds like a nightmare.” 

“Bisexuality, babe.” 

“Nah.” Katrina kisses her nose after she’s tugged her sweater back on. “I just like you.” 

“Sappy.”

“Oh, so what?” 

“Nothing.” Janice grabs her hand, tugging her out of the shed. “I like it.” 

“Babe, you don’t have a shirt on and I don’t think Josh has ever seen a pair of tits in his life.” 

Janice laughs. As friends of one Rachel Glazier-Hahn (and aunts to one Ezra Glazier-Hahn), they both can effectively prove that’s not true. 

“Ah. Right.” She runs back in for her poor abandoned T-shirt, draped over her workbench, and slips it on. “Better?” 

“Not for me,” Katrina grumbles. “But duty calls.” 

Patches is there waiting for them, perched on the fence leading around to the front of their house. 

“Hey buddy,” Katrina calls, reaching for him. “Where’s your freak of a father?” 

The cat fixes her with a nonplussed stare before hopping down from the fence himself. He walks in little circles around her ankles, finding himself preoccupied with something in the grass. 

“Okay, didn’t need my help. Cool beans.” She scratches behind his ears. “I’m gonna pick you up anyway.” Patches only scratches at her once in protest before settling into her arms. “Good job,” she whispers. “Knew I was your favorite.” 

“Runs in the family,” Janice says. Kat smiles up at her. 

“Speaking of family…” she unlocks the gate, holding the door open. “Let’s go on a Josh hunt.” 

“Gladly.” 

They make their way towards the driveway. If Patches just got here, Josh should be close behind. 

But his car isn’t there. 

“Hm,” Katrina hums thoughtfully. “That doesn’t add up.” 

“It doesn’t…” Janice agrees. 

“You think he’s hiding?” 

“Where would he hide a car?” 

The look of Katrina’s face suggests they can’t exactly rule that out as a possibility. 

“We should call him,” Janice decides. “If he’s hiding, we’ll hear his phone go off.” 

“Yeah. Good plan.” Katrina wordlessly hands  the cat off to Janice before fishing for her phone. It doesn’t take long until she’s pulled up his contact (he’s on speed dial). He picks up after the first ring. 

“I’ll be right with you, sir - Hey dude, you good?”

“Josh, where are you?” She can hear the hum of chatter and the clattering of plates. She knows the answer, but that makes this all weirder. 

“At work? You need me to say you’ve been here?” 

“No, no. Not crime. You swear you’re at the café?” 

“Yeah, of course.” There’s a nervous edge to his voice now. “Are you okay?” 

“All good, dude, promise. We just have an unexpected visitor.” She begins to pace as she explains the situation, trying to puzzle out how the cat got here and when to get him back home. 

“You’re a troublemaker, huh bud?” Janice asks Patches, shifting to a seated position. She places him in her lap. “Affiliated with the wrong sort.” 

Patches doesn’t make any noise. Which is strange - he’s a very responsive cat. Janice catches a glint of silver in his mouth. 

“Hey, what do you have?” Janice opens her hand patiently. “Show me.” 

Patches drops it obediently, and Janice’s heart drops with it. 

Because sitting in her palm is her most recent attempt at an engagement ring. 

“Dude, what the hell?” she whisper-shouts at the cat. She had thrown it away in frustration two days ago - the shape was fine, but it was far too large to have ever fit Katrina’s delicate finger comfortably. “How did you get this?” 

The cat purrs in response, nuzzling the ring with his nose. Like he knows exactly what it is. 

“You creep me out,” she tells him. He meows back. 

“Uh-huh. You sure? Okay. Uh-huh. No, I doubt it. Love you, bye!” Katrina’s back. She pockets her phone. 

“He’s insisted on coming over to pick him up. Shift ends in about an hour.” 

“Well that’s good,” Janice replies, trying to be casual. Not like she has the unfinished product of a tangible representation of their love and journey as a couple in her hands. 

Casual. 

“What’re you holding?” she asks. It seems innocuous. That’s the most disturbing part. 

“Bit of scrap metal,”  Janice blurts out. “Patches, somehow, got into our trash. Wonder who he gets his thieving tendencies from.” 

Katrina clutches her chest dramatically. “What are you insinuating, my dear?” 

“That you’re a bad influence.” 

“How very dare you?!” 

Janice chuckles at her girlfriend’s antics. “C’mon. Let’s go wait on the porch.” 

“Janice, that’s not an answer to my question.”

“I dare because it’s true.” She scoops Patches up in one arm and pushes herself up to stand with the other. “Let’s go.” 

“So mean to me,” Katrina huffs. 

“Them’s the breaks, dovie.” She takes her hand and pulls her to the front porch. 

They spend that hour cloud watching and rambling aimlessly. Katrina tries to teach Patches how to do a backflip. It doesn’t happen. 

“Is that even physically possible?” Janice asks, cutting her girlfriend off mid-explanation. 

“No clue! Never been a cat.” 

Patches meows in agreement. 

“Fair.” She leans back in her seat. “ETA on Josh?” 

As if on cue, a Corolla pulls into their driveway. 

“Babe, did you just summon him?” 

“Huh. Maybe.” 

Josh slams the car door behind him. “Alright, where’s my little criminal?” he calls.

“Hey to you too,” Janice shouts back. “Dad’s here,” she tells Patches, stooping to pick him up.

“He likes you,” Kat observes. “A lot.” 

“Yeah, I think we’ve bonded.” 

Janice meets Josh halfway. 

“Thanks dude.” He pulls her in for a hug, careful not to squash the cat. 

“Yeah, of course.” She lowers her voice once they’ve separated. “Does he ever root through your trash?” 

“No? Never had that problem.” 

“Then I swear he’s an eldritch being or something, because somehow he got a hold of this.” She shows him the too-large ring. 

“Janice, is this-“ 

“Yeah. I’m trying to make it for her. That one was too big. I threw it away two days ago, and somehow your cat found it within five minutes of being here.” Janice grimaces. “And I know it sounds crazy, but I think he knows what it is.” 

Josh chuckles knowingly. “Honestly dude? If the cat’s involved, it’s meant to be. Trust me,” he flashes his wedding ring, “that’s how it worked out for me.” 

“Okay, what do you mean by that?” 

“It’s a long story that I’ll have to tell you later.” Josh nods towards the house, towards Katrina, who’s coming down to join them. 

“Hey,” she greets, slinging an arm around Janice’s waist. 

“Hey,” they chorus.

Katrina whistles, impressed. “Mind meld.” 

“I don’t think ‘hey’ counts as mind meld.” Josh argues. 

“Nah. Twins.” She grins at him. “Do you know if it’s physically possible for a cat to do a backflip?” 

“Patches, what were they doing to you?” he asks the cat, taking him from Janice and clutching him protectively. 

“Trying to teach him to backflip. Obviously.” 

“Honestly? Sick as hell.” 

“I knew you’d get it.” 

“You two are something else,” Janice says drily. Just then, Josh’s phone buzzes. 

“Speaking of something else…” Josh finishes reading the message on his screen. “Ez has gotten into the paint again. So I gotta go clean up a mural.” 

“Have a wonderful time,” Katrina starts sarcastically, going to give him a hug. “And keep an eye on your phone.” 

“Cryptic,” he mutters, squeezing her back. Patches meows impatiently, but they all elect to ignore him for a minute. “Job?” 

“Sort of. You’ll see.” 

“More cryptic.” He catches Janice’s eyes over Katrina’s shoulder. “She ever do this to you?” 

“All the time,” Janice responds. 

“I’m not that bad.” 

“Yes you are,” Josh insists, kissing the top of Katrina’s head before pulling back. “Freak.” 

“Asshole.” 

“Love you.” 

“Love you too. Say hi to Ez and Rach for me.” 

“Always.” He squeezes her arm twice. “Bye, Janice.” 

“Bye, dude.” She pulls him to her side, squeezing quickly. “Thanks.” 

“Yeah, man.” Josh knows exactly what she means by it. 

They watch him go, sending him off with an excessive amount of fanfare. Once the car’s out of sight, Katrina nuzzles into her neck. 

“Now, where were we?” she murmurs. 

“The shed, if memory serves,” Janice starts, “but we have a bedroom that could be of use.” 

“Onward then, fair maiden!” Katrina sweeps her up bridal style, buckling a little under the added weight. 

“Dovie, this is a terrible idea,” Janice chuckles. Katrina kisses her forehead. 

“I’m so big and so strong and it won’t be a problem.” And with that, she stumbles her way to their bedroom. 

Later that night, Josh is settling down to sleep when he hears his phone go off. He shifts as little as possible, trying not to disturb Rachel beside him. It’s a text from Katrina. 

Please please please keep this between us 🙏🙏 the most secret of all secrets

Yeah dude, of course

Okay: it’s time. I’m going to ask her to marry me, and I NEED you to come ring shopping with me or else I’ll actually combust bc I need a second opinion but it can’t be her obviously and I love Rach but I need you w me on this one. 

Anyway. 💃🏼😟

Josh stifles a laugh, because of course they’re wanting to propose at the same time. It’s just a matter of who does it first. 

KATRINA.

Huge deal. 

Yes of course that’s what I’m here for 💜

What does Sunday look like for you?

AGH THANK YOU MY ANGEL ON EARTH 

Sunday should work

We’ll talk ;)

Okay letting you sleep

Love you <3 

Love you too <3

Bride-to-be 👀🤭

🤭🤭🤭

!!!!!!!

Josh has got to hand it to Patches. The cat knows love better than anyone. 

—

absolutely MUST give credit to @wheelsupin-azarathmetrionzinthos for glass falcon’s lovely (and possibly all-knowing) cats. Zoie I love them <3

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

The Pitts

Pairing: Dr. Whitaker x Surgeon!Reader

Summary: Dr. Whitaker has never been a problem for her. That is until he becomes the problem. A top surgeon, known for her cool-headed precision and unshakable confidence, suddenly finds herself an absolute disaster whenever he's around. Her usual Casanova charm? Gone. Her composure? Nonexistent.

Author's Note: Normally pathetic wimpy white guys make my skin crawl but there's something about Dr. Whitaker. Leave me alone in a trauma room with that man and he'll crawl out.

The second Dr. Whitaker walked into the room, she felt it—that ridiculous, uncontrollable shift from composed and capable to absolute disaster.

Normally, she was unshakable. A top surgeon, one of the best in her field. She had the respect of her colleagues and the unwavering confidence that came with years of being at the top. She handled pressure like it was nothing, made life-and-death decisions daily, and never let anything rattle her.

But with him?

She was a train wreck.

It was like someone flipped a switch in her brain, and suddenly, she couldn't function. Her hands trembled, her words stumbled, and she found herself laughing at things that weren't remotely funny. Worse, everyone around her noticed. Everyone except him.

"Hey, nice scrubs today," she blurted out as Whitaker passed by.

He stopped, giving her a quizzical look before glancing down at himself. "Uh... thanks? They're just the standard ones."

She nodded far too eagerly. "Yeah, but, you know, you really make them work. These ones are really holding up!"

A beat of silence. Then, from behind her, someone choked on a laugh. She turned just in time to see Dr. Robby shaking his head, trying (and failing) to hide his smirk.

Whitaker, completely oblivious, just smiled politely. "Appreciate that, I guess."

As soon as he walked away, Robby leaned in. "Smooth."

She groaned, rubbing a hand down her face. "Don’t."

"Oh, I will," he said, thoroughly enjoying her downfall. "You’ve got it bad."

"I do not."

"Right. That’s why you’re out here complimenting a guy’s scrubs like he’s wearing designer."

She sighed, crossing her arms. "It’s not a big deal. It’s just... annoying. I’m a top surgeon, Robby. I perform complex procedures without breaking a sweat. And yet, one guy walks into a room, and I—"

"Turn into a bumbling idiot? Yeah, I’ve noticed."

She shot him a glare. "Not helping."

Robby chuckled. "Look, you’ve always been the one in control. Maybe the idea of someone making you lose that control freaks you out. But if you ask me? It’s kind of refreshing."

She frowned. "Refreshing?"

"Yeah. It means you actually care. And maybe, instead of fighting it, you should just... let it happen."

She opened her mouth to argue but found herself at a loss. Because deep down, she knew he was right. And yet, it was easier said than done.

Which was why she was completely caught off guard when, after yet another day of fumbling around Whitaker like an idiot, everything changed.

It happened so fast. One second, she was standing at the nurse’s station, and the next, Whitaker was walking toward her with purpose.

Then he stopped right in front of her, grabbed her face with both hands, and kissed her.

Her brain short-circuited. Somewhere in the background, she vaguely registered the sound of someone gasping, followed by another voice going, "Oh, finally."

When Whitaker pulled back, his expression was unreadable, but his touch lingered, his hands still cupping her face. "I, uh... just found out something interesting."

She swallowed hard, heart hammering against her ribs. "Yeah?"

He smiled—soft, amused, and just a little smug. "You like me."

Somewhere behind them, someone who was absolutely Dr. Robby muttered, "Took him long enough."

She wanted to die. But also? She really, really wanted him to kiss her again.

And judging by the look in his eyes, he absolutely was going to.

[icarianncarrionn]

“I’m rewriting?” Tisha can only spare a glance over at him before changing lanes, but she looks incredulous. This isn’t the point. She shouldn’t be litigating the end of their relationship like this, it’s about their daughter, but- “I know it’s been a long time, and it’s hard to- I don’t know. But I liked you a lot, and I liked what we were doing. I just…” she slows to follow traffic, held up for something she can’t quite see ahead of them. “I don’t know, Cash. I was twenty. I hated myself, I hated my body, I hated everything that I made as soon as I stepped back and realized it wasn’t perfect on the first try. Yeah, you were a mess, but I was messed up too.” The car inches forward, and even though it’s not exactly warm outside, she hits the AC so that he gets a little more air now that they’ve slowed down. “It took me a long time to get over that whole I’m too cool to care shit, okay? I lived my life expecting to get rejected, and rejecting myself so that other people didn’t get a chance to. We were kids. We had huge feelings, and unmedicated personality disorders, and no idea what to do about them except get stoned and make art and have unprotected sex.” She laughs despite herself, shaking her head. “And now we’re adults. And we have a teenage daughter. And the guy we had extremely chemically altered threesomes with is watching tv with her right now, probably one of the shows I felt really weird about letting her watch because tv shows for teens are way more violent than when we were kids, I mean, I don’t even know what’s for kids anymore-” she cuts herself off to change lanes again and finally break out of the traffic jam. “My point is- I don’t know what my point is, Cash. But I don’t want you rewriting it either. I liked you.”

"Cash." He scoffed, unable to stop himself. It had been a while since he'd heard that one. Charlie still did sometimes, jokingly, teasingly, when his brothers couldn't come up with anything better mid argument. It was a bigger rarity among old fans. It took a special level of investment to remember the bassist's name, another special kind to not figure out that he went by Chuck now as far as his career was concerned. But she'd said it so matter-of-fact-ly, so off-handedly, it sent him whirling back in time fifteen years. Like that was just his name, nothing else, "Yeah, actually. I—." He beat her to it, though, opening the window by his side. Face turned to the streets so he could catch a gulp of air. Rationally, intellectually, Charlie knew there was no way it would run out. It wasn't like oxygen did. Emotionally, though— He's been really good for Chaarvi. They are close. "He taught her about music?" There were a few times in his life, where Charlie stood in front of his former bandmates and was hit with the abrupt but all-consuming realization that he didn't know the person standing in front of him. Finding Leo cheating on his wife with some model at a party and getting told to fuck off when he asked about it. Hearing about Tony hitting on his girlfriend at a Grammy after party they'd both been invited to. He'd figured Matt was immune to that effect. As much as he'd loved the Knox brothers, he'd always been closer to Matt anyway. It turned out he wasn't, no. Charlie didn't know Matt. Because he didn't know his daughter either — his daughter, Jesus Fucking Christ — and wherever they were in the world that was apparently together. Fingertips curled around the collar of his shirt, undoing the top button. His throat narrowed its passageway for air. Gaze flickering to the cars passing them by on his right to allow himself a second to blink away the tears forming at the corner of his eyes. It took him a second, "You, what?" She had way too little self-esteem to ask. That was the sentence. That was the one he took way too fucking long to process. She had way too little self-esteem to ask, meaning she wanted to, meaning she would have if he didn't, meaning if he'd simply be fucking brave enough to— "You're not, you can't be serious, okay? You're not serious, you, you are misremembering, you didn't want this, you didn't want me, alright? I was, I am a mess, but I was worse, you didn't—" Charlie shook his head, over and over and over again. "It's just, it's time, it's distance, it's rewriting it, it's not—"

[dio-the-thot-exterminator]

woooahhh why is there so much porn poppin up on my feed

[otaku553]

Haha

[guppygiggles]

Trying to decide if I want Avery as a medical doctor or a university professor in my Sea and Sky AU… I’m honestly leaning teacher, but, um. Both have their. Charms. ////

[sexygayvampire]

i’ve only been into dragon age for like. checks calendar. two and a half months. and the amount that my opinion on veilguard has changed after playing the other games is crazy

[the-somwthing]

People can point to Limited Life as the flower husbands divorce season all they want but imo it is THE BEST version of FH. They might have divorced TO YOU. But I see them secretly making out behind a wall