#but like i said he was stressing me out. he had too good of a read on me and i can't get over my trust issues with men

[n0vazsq]

Pretty Boy | LN4 x Reader

pairing . . . lando norris x gf!artist!reader

summary . . . While you're sketching a drawing of Lando, you notice that something's off with him. Then, you remind him that he's much more than what people think of him

request . . . no!

word count . . . 759

warnings . . . none! just one use of 'damn'

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . first lando fic!!! a bit short but i hope you guys like it <33

. . . The room smelled like salted caramel and the leather of the couch you were currently sitting on. Lando sat across from you, sat on the arm of the chair, one leg bouncing restlessly. The glow from his phone lit up his face every few seconds, softening the sharpness of his jawline, but it didn’t hold his attention for long. He set it down after scrolling aimlessly, leaning back with a sigh.

"You know," you started, stretching out your legs, "you really need to learn how to sit still. You’re stressing me out."

He flashed you that damn grin, the one he knew you hated for how effortlessly it made you forgive him for everything. "You sound like my engineer," he laughed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"Maybe I should be," you shot back, holding up the sketchpad in your lap. "You’re not exactly making this easy for me."

His eyes flicked to the page, and he tilted his head, squinting slightly. "That’s me?"

"Who else do you think I’ve been sketching this whole time? Your mum?"

Lando grinned, leaning in closer to get a better look. His hair was slightly messy, still damp from the shower he’d taken earlier, and you could smell the faint trace of his shampoo as he hovered over your shoulder. "Not bad," he said with mock seriousness, tapping his chin. "You almost got my nose right."

You turned your head, glaring playfully. "Almost? You’re lucky I even attempted that ski slope you call a nose."

He pretended to be offended, leaning back dramatically, a hand on his chest. "Ski slope? That’s rich coming from someone who-" He cut himself off, laughing at your raised eyebrow.

"Go on," you urged, smirking now.

"Nah," he said, still laughing as he settled back into the chair. "You’re not worth the fight."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. Lando had this way of lighting up a room without even trying, of making you feel like the only person who mattered when he turned that adorable charm your way. It was infuriating, really.

But tonight, something about him seemed quieter. The usual spark in his eyes was dimmer, and the edges of his grin didn’t reach as far.

"What’s going on with you?" you asked, setting the sketchpad aside.

He shrugged, looking down at his hands, which were fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. "Nothing. Just thinking."

"About....?"

He hesitated, chewing on the inside of his cheek before finally meeting your gaze. "You ever feel like… I don’t know. Like people only see what they want to see when they look at you?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Where’s this coming from?"

He shrugged again, more defensively this time. "It’s just… I don’t know. Everyone’s always saying stuff, you know? About me. Pretty boy this, golden boy that. Like that’s all I am."

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. "You know that’s not true, right?"

"Isn’t it?" he countered, his voice softer now, more uncertain.

"My beloved Lando." You said his name like it was the answer to a question he didn’t want to ask. "You’re so much more than what people say. You’re brilliant, and kind, and funny, annoyingly so, actuall. You care about the people around you more than you probably should."

He didn’t say anything, just stared at you with this look that made your chest tighten.

"I don’t see some ‘pretty boy,’" you continued. "I see you. The real you. And if other people don’t, that’s their loss. But just saying, you are pretty."

The corner of his mouth twitched, and he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "You’re too good at this whole therapy talk thing, you know that?"

You smirked, leaning back against the couch again. "Yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep your ego contained."

He laughed then, the sound breaking through the tension like sunlight through a cloud. And when he looked back at you, the spark in his eyes was there again, faint but unmistakable.

"Thanks," he said simply.

"For what?"

"For being here. For being… ," He took a deep breath, arms raising and falling, like he was trying to cut the air. "You.”

Your smile softened, and you shrugged. "Someone’s gotta put up with you."

He laughed again, shaking his head. "Lucky me, huh?"

And in the glow of the room, with the soft hum of the music in the background, you thought maybe you were the lucky one.

[thethingsnerd]

This one. I like this one. Fic under the cut

“Your input is not necessary.”

It’s not the first time Bruce had said that to Dick tonight. It would be less frustrating if B was making better calls- he’s not really listening to anyone else tonight, not just Dick, and his decision making is suffering for it.

Everyone's tempers are suffering for it, too.

It starts with Oracle, who hates when Batman falls back into bad habits like this as much as Dick does, and has twice as less patience for it. She's curtly professional from the word "go" and when Dick offers to bring her a pint of cherry garcia later, Barbara tells him to shove it up his ass instead. Dick doesn't take it personally.

Next is Cass, who's always extra stressed when Barbara's upset. Even so, it blindsides Dick. They'd ended up at the same shootout, they'd efficiently gotten the surrounding civilians to safety, they'd worked together beautifully. They de-escalate the gun fight next, and Dick knocks a gun out of a gangster's hand before he can shoot Blackbat in the back. He doesn't think twice about it until Cass starts castigating him on the roof.

"I didn't need help."

"He was behind you. That's the whole point of a patrol partner, Blackbat, so someone can cover your six."

"No."

"No?"

"You were out of rhythm."

"I was not-"

"You're throwing me off."

She's running before Dick can say anything else. He could catch up with her, if he really tried, but he's still not sure what that was about. Maybe Dick is as out-of-sync as Cass insisted, or maybe Cass is feeling off-kilter herself. Either way, he doesn't go after her.

The rest of the night shift is uneventful, aside from the snipe over comms. Back at the Cave is a different story. Steph and Tim are arguing when Dick rolls in, and Dick gets all of three steps toward the computer before they round on him instead.

"Dick! Tell Tim that-"

"No, Dick, inform Stephanie-"

"Oooh full name, I'm so chastened, Timothy-"

"You should be embarrassed-"

"Okay!" Dick interjects. "What is the problem?"

Steph glances between Dick and Tim, glances at her feet, then sighs aggressively. "Nothing," she grits out. "Absolutely nothing, so for once in your life leave it alone, you busybody."

Dick watches as she stomps away. Just a bad night, he has to remind himself that it's just a bad night. Tim shakes his head when Dick glances at him, so Dick heads straight to the showers.

Clean, warm, and dressed down in comfy sweats, Dick feels much better than has all day. He'd passed Damian on the stairs, but something was clearly eating at the kid- he'd taken one look at Dick and turned sharply in the other direction. Hiding. Dick's been there, and valiantly tries not to take it personally.

He decides to make himself some chamomile (he'll never take sleeping pills again after don't think about it) and takes a moment to check in with himself. His therapist would be proud. Alfred would be proud of how nicely his chamomile turns out; Dick almost always understeeps herbal tea but tonight he's gotten it just right.

Dick sips his tea. He takes inventory of his injuries; minimal bruising, achy lower back, tender left wrist. Pretty good. Then takes stock of the rest of him; tired but not yet sleepy, agitated but not too badly. All in all, considering all the tension, tonight definitely could have been worse.

Famous last words.

Tim walks into the kitchen just as Dick gets to the dregs of his chamomile. Dick nods at him in greeting, and Tim does not take it well.

"Oh, now you acknowledge me?"

Dick does not sigh. He doesn't but it is such a near thing. "Did I not acknowledge you some other time tonight?"

"I asked you to back me up downstairs and you totally ignored me!"

"I did no such thing. You were in the middle of an argument I didn't catch the start of, so I asked what the problem was. How is that ignoring you?"

"I asked you for backup and you didn't come through," Tim hisses.

"Backup in the field and backup in a lovers' quarrel are not the same-"

"It wasn't a- a lovers' quarrel, asshat!"

"Well, how am I supposed to know when you don't say what's really going on?"

"You shouldn't need to know! I asked for backup-the only thing you're good for is backup and you couldn't even do that right!"

......yeah, alright, there's no getting around it. Dick is going to have to take that personally.

Dick deliberately turns away from Tim. He rinses out his teacup so the porcelain won't stain. Then, he takes a long, centering breath, and decides to do something he hasn't done in a long time.

"That how you really feel, Tim?" One more out.

"Yes."

Dick decides to cut his losses.

"Okay then."

"Okay?" Tim asks. Clearly still angry but now confused as well. It's a bad look for him. "This is not an 'okay' kind of situation."

"Not from your angle," Dick says. It's the only reply Tim gets before Dick makes his way upstairs.

Last time he left Gotham at dawn, Dick had nothing but a backpack and stolen emergency cash. This time, Dick is a grown man and a lot less desperate, not to mention a lot less injured, so he digs out his civilian suitcase and actually plans out what he wants to take.

He packs jackets, pajamas, shaving razors, plenty of socks- the kinds of things that are only expensive when purchased by the Wayne Estate, and that he won't buy for himself. All shoes go in a beach bag he has stashed in his closet, except for his loafers which go in the bottom of the dress bag with his most tolerable black tie suit. That had annoyed him last time, he remembers- Alfred had always been so militantly insistent on perfect tailoring that the baggy fit of Dick's off-the-rack replacement had been an unbearable insult to injury.

Other personal affects get tucked in the suitcase with care, bits and bobs, odds and ends, and he zips up everything just as the clock hits 4:00. Even the most workaholic bats should be in bed by now, or at least upstairs, so he should be good for a pop down.

Dick has a Nightwing stash on the edge of the city, and he'll get most of his kit from there, but his costume and his current favorite pair of escrima sticks are going with him now, neatly folded into a briefcase. Dick also nabs a keyring on his way out of Bruce's office.

The car keys used to stay in the garage with their respective vehicles, but one too many joyrides had prompted Bruce to hoard all the keys in a desk drawer instead. The first time Dick had seen them under the monogrammed stationary Bruce never uses, he'd laughed out loud.

It pains Dick to leave his bike behind, but even though Dick doesn't have a lot of luggage, it's still too much for a motorcycle. He'd considered which car to take carefully; no flashy sports car, obviously, but also not one that Bruce is particularly fond of. He needs a car for practical reasons, not spite, so Dick settles on the least ostentatious Audi and tries to think of anything else he might want in the next five-to-ten years.

Dick takes the box of chamomile tea bags.

__________

Donna opens her apartment door on the fourth knock. The look on her face is superficially friendly that Dick's proud of her- of course, she smiles for real when she registers just who it is at her door. Dick finds himself smiling back before he decides to.

"Hey, Donna. Mind if I crash here for a minute?"

Donna raises a curious eyebrow, and Dick bites his lips to keep from grinning. Donna ushers him inside without a word, locks her door, and all but pushes Dick into a bar stool. Donna sits herself up on her counter in front of him and demands eye contact.

"When you say a minute, do you mean a New York minute?"

Dick slides his eyes away and toward her couch. "I mean a lot of minutes. I'm cutting Gotham off."

"AAAA!" Donna picks him up and spins him in the air for several more turns than he thinks this really warrants. Then Donna sets them on the floor just to twirl Dick around even more, and he giggles. Part amusement, mostly relief; Donna wouldn't be so excited if he'd come at a bad time.

"Was the scream of delight necessary?" He asks, still laughing.

"Entirely," she says, mock serious. "This is a delightful day."

Donna sobers a bit at her own words. She eyes him more thoroughly, "It is a delightful day, yes?"

He knows that Donna knows he wouldn't decide to cut contact for no reason, that's not the real question. The answer to her question, which is 'are you reeling from what it was', is thankfully 'no'. Not today.

"Yeah," Dick says honestly. "Peachy, even."

Donna smiles at him.

She deposits him back at her kitchen counter, declares she's going to make real breakfast- apparently she's been breaking her fast with fruit jerky all week- and starts grilling Dick the same time she starts frying up sfakianopita.

"So which straw broke the camel's back?"

"My brother implied I'm mildly useless and I took offense."

"Only 'mildly' useless convinced you to get out of hell? I'm not complaining, but that doesn't sound like you."

Dick bites down the instinctive urge to deflect, to push her away. Donna wouldn't care even if Tim insulting him had been his only grievance. Donna is happy to have him here.

"Nah, it was more of a... death of a thousand cuts kind of thing. Yesterday was a bad night, and I thought about it some- which, you know how that usually goes- I thought about it, and I'm tired of not taking any of it personally. Even if they don't mean it, I don't want to put up with it. Then Tim comes in with an unmistakably personal attack and...."

"And you made the best decision."

Dick's mouth twitches up. "They wouldn't call it that."

"They have terrible decision making skills."

Donna starts stacking the sfakianopita on two plates.

"That's not true, they just don't always pay attention."

"Who does these days?" Donna gripes.

"You," Dick says.

Donna turns toward him, one hand on her hip, one hand pointing her spatula at Dick's face. "You don't make it easy, Dick."

Dick shrugs emphatically. "What can I say? I was born difficult."

"Not difficult," Donna shakes her head. "Just challenging."

"And you like a challenge?" Dick grins.

Donna bops him on the shoulder with the spatula. "Get it right, Dick. I love a challenge."

Well, doesn't that make Dick feel warm and cozy? Donna smirks at him like she's won something (she has and they both know it) and turns to root through her fridge for cheese. Dick gets out of his seat to find the honey while she does.

__________

Dick crashes on Donna's couch for exactly nine days before she tells him they're getting a new place together. Dick tells Donna that he always intended on getting his own space- a misstep, since Donna argues that's exactly why they should get a new apartment. A two bedroom, where Dick can have more privacy.

"I don't want to impose, Donna."

"Have you ever considered what I want?"

Dick sighs. "What do you want, Don?"

"I want company. It's been a lonely year, D. I enjoy when my friends impose."

There's not much he can say to argue that. Isolating himself never leads Dick anywhere good, anyway.

Between apartment hunting and catching up, Donna and Dick fight supervillains. New York City never lacks for things to do- smugglers to send packing, wannabe world conqueror to thwart, assholes to kick in the face. Dick had honestly forgotten how fun it is to patrol during the day.

He adds some some gold back into his costume. Dick's surprised by how much he likes it- it was his idea, yet when he catches glimpses of blue and gold and black all blurring together in high rise windows, beside Donna's sea of stars, Dick feels more like himself than he has in long, long time.

He starts picking up a lot of dropped habits. He makes dinner; real dinner, like Madam Vasilyev used to make on the train's little stove, and like he would sometimes make for the Titans for family team dinners. It's so much easier to make things when it isn't for him alone. Donna is happy to let him, having no great love of cooking herself, and always supportive of non-cape hobbies.

She's full of surprises, though. Dick had tried to teach all of his friends at least one or two meals they could make from scratch themselves, just in case. He hadn't thought about whether any of it had been retained, though, not now, so many years removed. Not until Donna one day bestows upon him a pot of chicken paprikash and he almost cries.

It's delicious. Just like his parents used to make, whenever they could find a grocer who sold paprika. Just like he taught Donna to make it in the Tower an entire lifetime ago.

"Did I get it right?"

"Did you make it with love?"

"Of course."

"Then you got it perfectly right."

Other than dinner, he starts gardening. Nothing serious, but the new apartment has a couple of windows, so Dick plants a window box full of herbs.

He plants cilantro first. The seeds were on sale at the hardware store, so the whole box was just cilantro, for a while. Donna buys live basil from a grocer she likes, so one of the cilantros gets pawned off to a neighbor, and their pasta sauces taste awesome.

It's not the most exciting hobby, but it gets him out of bed on Bad Days.

Those days, it's hard to do anything at all. It hits him, when the clouds are just the wrong color, that he and Bruce are on the outs again. He hates being on the outs with Bruce, hates that it means another bond between them has snapped. Makes him catastrophize about whether or not this is finally the fence that can't be mended.

At least it's not nearly as bad as it was Before. Dick hadn't understood, back then, what Bruce's problem was. Now that he's older he knows Bruce had never had to let someone walk away before- even with Talia, B had been the one to walk away first- and took Dick's bid for independence badly as a result.

He'd swung by Gotham exactly once for Jason, and stole the kid away to Tower at every opportunity. He'd made sure Jase was present in Dick's space the way Dick was no longer welcome in Bruce's.

He'd gone back to Gotham exactly one other time, after Bruce held Jason's funeral without so much a ping on Dick's pager. All that accomplished was losing Dick his house key. Until Tim barged in.

Donna and Dick were winding down for the night, enjoying a nice bottle of wine and a shared bowl of plantain chips, when Dick makes another decision.

"Donna."

"Dick." She tosses a chip in the air so she can catch it in her mouth.

"I've had an epiphany." He swirls the wine in his glass playfully. Donna leans forward in her chair.

"Do tell."

"Every time I don't want to talk to Bruce, he finds a new stray child to bring home. And I always go, because what I am supposed to do? Not keep an eye on them? But Bruce has a billion orphans-"

Donna snorts. "A billion?"

"Okay, fine, half a dozen orphan children roosting in his house full of ghosts, and it's probably inevitable that there will be another and you know what, sister?" He drains the rest of his wine glass while she stares at him.

Donna seems to consider him, or maybe she zones out, but after a moment she similarly liberates her glass of its wine.

"Lay it on me, Robin."

"I'm not going back this time. Not until someone actually apologizes, not if there's a new bat, not if there's another secret baby, not for any of that bullshit. Tim's as old as I was when Tim first came around, so he can deal with it. Or Cass. Or Babs. Or Bruce can keep his act together for longer than two weeks at a time I don't care. I won't be lured back for family drama. Not this time."

Dick stops to breathe. A mistake, really, as it's the perfect opportunity for stinging anxiety to start buzzing under every inch of his skin. He's an idiot. What a stupid thing to say, what a stupid idea to even have-

Donna is in front of Dick. When did she get out of her chair?

"Richard John Grayson."

"Donna Hinckley Stacy Troy."

I've come to a decision, too. Tell me if it's a good one."

Then she pulls him into a hug. Dick swallows heavily and lets himself be held, for a while.

"Good decision?" Donna asks.

"I think so," he says. He wraps his arms around Donna, reciprocating- God, how long has it been since he's had a reciprocal relationship? Donna squeezes and he throws the thought out of his mind. The awful pull against his insides has subsided, so now he's just warm and loose.

"Donna, do you like my decision?"

"I really really do."

__________

When they were still in Donna's old apartment, various Gothamites tried to contact him. A lot of voicemails are angry and accusing. He listens to them once just in case and deletes them right after. He gets texts from Tim that he knows are meant as olive branches, but they're all offers of joint patrols, or going over case files together, or similar Mission oriented activities.

It's hard to turn him down, especially since he knows Tim won't understand. It's easier to ignore Bruce's messages, sparse as they are, demanding explanations.

Cass had broken into Donna's apartment. Donna had been out with a friend she met in her photography club, doing yoga maybe? Dick had been making egg fried rice for lunch when a wild Bat appeared.

Dick had smiled politely, which seemed to confuse her. Dick had offered to share his lunch, which seemed to make her feel better.

They’d eaten in silence for a while, Cass occasionally staring hard at him while Dick waited for her to make the first move; exactly how Dick would treat a hungry kid he didn’t know. You never know what will spook a stranger, after all.

Bowls empty, Dick had gone to pick hers up to wash when she caught his wrist.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to wash up after our lunch.”

Cass squints at him, exaggerating her expression to make sure he gets her memo.

“You know what I mean. Don’t pretend.”

“I’m not pretending to do the dishes,” he answers calmly, blandly.

“Stop pretending you don’t know me!”

“What would you prefer I do?”

“Go home.”

“No.”

That doesn’t seem to be what she’d expected him to say. She’d expected pushback, for certain, but flat refusal, nothing else? An unwelcome miscalculation.

“Why not?”

“At the moment, I won’t feel at home in Gotham. As far as I’m concerned I’m at home right now.”

“Liar,” she’d hissed. Dick was watching, tho, and saw the confusion in her stance. Her eyes told her he wasn’t lying at all. Deliberately on Dick’s part, not entirely truthful, yet not entirely manufactured- the apartment may not be special to him, but Donna always will be.

“I have no reason to go to Gotham right now.”

“Your team is there.”

“I’m not on Team Bat at the moment.”

“You can’t quit-“

“Cassandra. My roommate will be home soon. I suggest you leave now, if you have nothing to say on your own behalf.”

It’s a low blow to call her a messenger, to write her off as nothing but a mouthpiece for Bruce or Tim or maybe even Damian. Dick wouldn’t feel bad about it if they weren’t close, so he won’t feel bad about it now; she’s the one who didn’t want partner, Dick’s just respecting her wishes.

Cass stares and keeps staring so long he’s worried she’ll refuse to leave, but then they both heard footsteps in the hall, and by the time Dick turns back toward her she’d already gone.

The next morning, Dick had a new message from Bruce. It was an email, that time, instead of a text, which more than anything actually written lets Dick know Bruce has caught on to what’s happened. What is still happening. The email begins ‘Mr. Grayson-Wayne’ and Dick doesn’t read a single word further.

__________

Wally visits the new apartment shortly after they move in. Apparently, Nightwing being in town again has caught the interest of an opinion columnist or two, and Wally had wanted to see him with his own eyes.

“You’re hanging out with people again!”

“I never stopped,” Dick protests. “We see each other once a month, Wally.”

“Scheduled visits- ugh, it’s like you were in prison, and I only got to see you during your time in the yard.” All of this is dramatically declared as Wally flops on their couch, taking up space and definitely bothering the neighbors.

It should annoy Dick. It should at least hurt his ego. Instead, it makes him bloom into a smile, and throw himself onto the couch next to his friend.

“Donna and I have been having a great time without you,” he teases. “We could have an even better time with you, if you’re up for it.”

“Dickie, I thought you’d never ask.”

The Flash joins Dick and Donna for a fight every now and then, patrolling as often as work and Central City will allow. It’s good- it’s really, really good.

“Why did we disband?”

“Because we grew up?”

“Terrible decision.”

“Adulthood is overrated.”

“I don’t know, I certainly wouldn’t want to be a teenager again, would you?”

“Nah.” “NO!”

Wally looks away from the conversation he started, and his eyes find the window box. “Hey Ds, is that a garden?”

“It’s mine,” Dick says. “Right now it’s just cilantro and basil. I’m open to suggestions.”

Wally gives him a once over, looks again at the plants, then changes the subject. The next time Wally comes over he’s holding a pot of chives.

A couple of months later, there’s a siren hiding out in the Harbor. It kicks Dick’s ass and Donna almost drowns. It occurs to them that they are idiots, and that they should’ve called Garth. Garth, thankfully, both answers his communicator and has time for them, so they get to watch Tempest absolutely destroy the siren.

Afterward, they go for pizza. They ask Garth if he would want to come around more often maybe, just because?

Garth smiles brighter than the moon.

The first time they stop a supervillain downtown together, it’s all the papers will talk about the next day. Someone got an excellent picture of all four of them in action. Flash is about to pounce, so he’s still enough to see. He’s tagged in with Donna, distracting the giant rat monster from the air so Flash can trip it into the river. On the bank, left of center in the photo, Tempest and Nightwing and are on standby. Garth will drench the awful thing, all fifteen stories of it, once it’s close enough to the water, and Nightwing will fry the thing with all the electricity his sticks have got.

They work together smoothly, and they cheer when they win, and the papers all ask, ‘Titans Back Together?’

After a while of mulling it over, they unanimously decide to answer ‘yes’.

Listen I love the ‘dicks being ostracized from his family and self destructs’ trope in fics however

I would like an inverse just once (I could write it but I want this fic to be good so I can enjoy it and I am not the greatest writer) where everyone blows up at him and flat out lays into him and he just goes… okay… if that’s how you feel?

Takes himself off of the patrol routes and rosters. He’s off the emergency calls and his ‘call for city wide emergency’ has been down graded to ‘call for world wide emergency’ he’s no longer on comms with oracle

He stops offering assistance to the other kids teams, doesn’t send info for investigation and doesn’t go within 100feet of Gotham.

Takes himself off the den-mother, baby sitter, trainer for all the younger teams lost that involve any and all bats

In the beginning he vacates his apartment and temporarily moves in with Donna in New York and things are good because of course they are. They’re Dick and Donna a world doesn’t exist where they aren’t okay.

And then his presence in New York leads to a lot of the og core five titans interacting and they realize that they miss each other like hell and start to work together more and more. Until news sites are like ‘teen titans grown up??’ ‘Original titans spotted doing hurricane aid in Florida!’

Because Dick loves his family but he knows when to bow out. And he chose the family he made in the new teen titans.

And then one day one of the bats track him down in nyc and breaks into what is now Dick and Donna’s apartment and are ready to argue that they need him back and need him there for a huge Gotham wide event.

And Dick says ‘sure okay let me get my stuff and we leave in half and hour’ as soon as the first sentence is out

No convincing or begging or asking for money (cough Jason cough)

Dick is patched into their comms and he’s working efficiently except he’s not… acting like himself.

He’s collaborating with whoever they tell him too, no problem, he’s discussing ideal plans and co-ops and teams and how to best get it under control.

But he’s talking to them the way he talks when he’s offering aid to teams he’s not a part of.

Like the hero version of an acquaintance and no one can call him out on it because he’s doing good work. Work that’s on par with his work before this whole fiasco. He explicitly isn’t letting their personal issues affect his work.

He’s speaking but not talking

And Bruce remembers this… he’s probably the only one who does because last time he was the only one included. The last time Dick acted like this is when he first visited Jason and him after he had been fired.

Whenever Bruce was in the room and Dick was forced to speak with him, the conversation never strayed past business casual especially around Jason.

Batman and Nightwing got into screaming matches

Bruce and Dick were strangers

And now they’re back to this, 7 kids later, a million ends of the world stopped, they’ve bled together, cried together and clung to each other in pure relief after they managed to clutch victory.

And Nightwing was treating Batman Inc like a new team stepping onto the scene.

Once they’ve secured everything and managed to keep Bruce from self destructing and making it worse. Dick just leaves and tells oracle that he’ll send over his debrief in 3-5 business days and it was nice working with them.

And then he’s gone

No cave, no manor, no Alfred, no med-bay because Dick doesn’t stay places he’s not welcome.

And after they all talk about that and how weird it was and Bruce reveals Dick did this before when he was Nightwing after Bruce fired, where Dick Grayson didn’t know Bruce Wayne.

And one of the kids asks when he broke and stopped the act and Bruce just says ‘the day he found out Jason died’

And the Batkids kinda freak bc what do you mean?? What is he only going to come back when someone dies? Thats not? There has to be another way?? And Bruce is like yeah no idea sorry (bc he’s helpful like that)

So then Steph the next day resolves to go visit him, Tim isn’t the only professional stalker. And she finds Dick and Donna’s apartment and well it’s daylight and she’s in civvies she’s if she climbs in through the window she might get reported to the NYPD and she doesn’t wanna get arrested or shot to door it is!

And so she goes and knocks and Dick opens the door and just lights up

Something something this is such a nice surprise something something it’s so good to see you.

Dick had taught Donna how to make some of his mother recipes when they were kids. So now whenever they’re together for a long time they cook together.

So Dick who is usually living in a cluttered apartment with no clean dishes and an exclusively grab and go food is now trying to force feed her some of his cooking.

Because he picked up the habit again since he’s the better cook between him and Donna.

And it’s delicious and he wants to catch up and hear everything that’s going on in her life, is she working with new people, dating anyone? How is her relationship with her mother etc etc.

It’s a nice day and she stays late and never confronts him on anything until she sees how long ago the sun set and she needs to get moving.

He hands her paper with his number and makes her promise not to give it to the others or she will lose access to it, he offers to help her on a conditional basis as nightwing but only her, she can call him about the rest if it’s an end of the world or they’re near death and need immediate aid.

And that’s like the fic because the key to winning nightwings assistance is like breathing (optional) but if you’re Dicks family you have to care or else. He’ll love you and help you, when you need it but he won’t tie his life up with yours, he’ll spend his time with people who value his opinion and the person behind the mask.

Anyway cue all the Batkids trying to do what Steph did and fail because they’re neurotic shits who think bonding involves doing casework together or a steak out.

(The next person to crack it is Damian, completely unintentionally he has a fight with Bruce and can’t ask him how the fuck he’s supposed to solve this equation in the new stupid way they’re teaching him no he can’t use the old method they’re supposed to show their work so he pulls up to Dick and Donna’s in a ratty ass hoodie like plz wtf do you mean you work top down explain Grayson- and dicks like awww no problem kid)

[woodywood101blog]

Experimental: Delivery, Part 1

The following days were a whirlwind for Yazan and Randy, as they discovered this new phase of their relationship. They both know it will be a bit surprising to everyone back at the hospital when they return with both four babies and a newfound love for each other. At the same time, you can’t always stop what the heart (or dick) wants!

Yazan and Randy tried to enjoy as much as they could in these final weeks, including a trip to the beach. Yazan gave up on finding shirts that would fit, so he arrived at the beach wearing a large bra and board shorts. Randy said it might have been easier for him to shave his beard, to at least appear more feminine while in a public space, but Yazan didn’t have the energy to worry about shaving, especially as he had always maintained a beard for as long as he started growing facial hair. Randy didn’t bother arguing, so they went down south towards Royal National Park and wandered along a more secluded beach, knowing there wouldn’t be as many people around.

Yazan and Randy talked about all sorts of things, including names for the babies, Yazan’s massive breasts, preparing bottles of colostrum and eventually milk, buying the things needed for a nursery, and eventually birth.

“So, we definitely know your ass is malleable, but we still don’t know if it could sustain birthing all four babies.” Randy said.

“I know, I just… I’m scared.” Yazan sighed and looked away.

“Hey, Yaz, look at me.” Randy replied as he grabbed Yazan’s shoulder and moved towards him. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here, we’ve got support from the researchers here, we’re all going to make sure you and the babies are safe. Alright?”

“Alright. I just -”

“Nope, you’re going to be okay!”

“Ugh, here you were bursting into tears weeks ago and now here I am like a blubbering mess.”

“You at least have hormones to explain away your blubber. I don’t!” Randy replied, and they both laughed.

***

At around 36 weeks, they both agreed that Yazan stays at the apartment and only leaves to go across to the lab as needed for the now daily scans. Yazan wasn’t too sure why it needed to move to daily ultrasounds, but it was Mike’s strong recommendation to do so. As far as Randy and Yazan were concerned, and going off the ultrasounds, the babies were all developing nice, healthy and strong. It gave Yazan time to slow down and appreciate the little moments, like the larger ripples of movement from the babies, as well as being able to work out who is positioned where within the belly. He also noticed his belly had dropped, meaning he could breathe fairly normally for the first time in months. It’s only a matter of time now, he thought.

(morph by @bigmpregnm)

It also meant he didn’t need to stress too much about clothing, so he had no hesitations in bringing out some of the shirts and clothes he gave up on long ago to just drape over the top of him. Randy saw Yazan one afternoon standing on the balcony of the apartment, looking out towards the city. Randy walked up from behind and moved his hands as far as he could to the front of the belly, swaying and kissing Yazan on the neck.

Yazan purred as he felt everything coming together nicely. “Isn’t this lovely?”

“What is?” Randy asked.

“Just… everything. The babies are almost here, I’ve got you to help me with the kids, we’re in this beautiful apartment here in Sydney for now, and then we can start a new life together back home.”

“A new life together?”

Yazan turned around and said, “Yeah, I was thinking today -”

“That’s never a good sign!”

“Shush you! I was thinking that I’d probably need an extra set of hands to help look after these four, and since you’ve already helped so much, I’d love it if you could move in with me? I’ve got a spare room if you -”

Randy leaned in and kissed Yazan on the lips. “I’d love that, Yaz. Yes, of course I’ll move in with you!” 

Yazan grinned widely at Randy’s response. “I love you, Randy.”

Now it was Randy’s turn to grin widely. “I love you too, Yazan.” Randy turned towards the edge of the balcony and screamed out “I love you, Yazan!!” Yazan laughed and tried to cover Randy’s mouth as Randy mumbled “But I want the world to know, Yaz…” They laughed as they walked back inside the apartment and prepared for dinner.

***

Randy could sense that Yazan was getting more tired as the days went on, to the point where he recommended Yazan just stayed in bed to avoid putting his body under extreme pressure. Yazan, being the stubborn person he is, didn’t take too lightly to being told to do nothing, so had no hesitation in wandering around the apartment, lightly bobbing his belly. Of course, after a couple of minutes, he would feel puffed out and have no choice but to sit down.

“See, I told you! Go, you’re on bed rest now.”

“What?! You can’t order me to rest.”

“I can! Remember who signed your medical clearance?”

“Fine…” Yazan groaned loudly as he tried to stand up and slowly walk back towards bed. He took off his shirt and pants, and grabbed extra pillows to have behind his back as he sat up in bed on “bed rest”.

“Okay, babe, I’m going to go to the lab and grab an ultrasound and tubes so we can do the tests from home. You stay in bed, alright?”

“Yep, okay then. See you soon!”

Randy quickly shut the door and dialled Anna. “Hey, Anna! How’s it going?”

“Yeah, not too bad. Coincidentally, I��m just having a look at Yazan’s most recent blood results. They seem okay…”

“You don’t sound confident?”

“Are you on your way to the lab?"

“Yeah, I’ve put Yazan on bed rest, so I was thinking of borrowing a mobile ultrasound and doing the scan from the apartment.”

“Okay, we’ll talk more when you’re here.”

“Rightio, chat soon!”

Randy speed-walked towards the bus stop to get to the lab. Once there, he saw Anna out the front with Mike talking.

“Hey there, guys! Is everything alright?” He saw Anna and Mike look towards Randy with a serious look on their faces. “Guys? What’s wrong?”

“Let’s talk inside.” Mike said with a hint of worry.

As they got into Mike’s office, Mike immediately said, “Right, so the most recent blood results seem to show a spiked level of testosterone in Yazan’s system. We’re not too sure where it’s coming from, but we’re worried this is the beginning of Yazan’s body rejecting the pregnancy.”

Randy gulped as he processed the news. “Okay, so what do we do? Do we book him in for an emergency c-section? He’s on bed rest now as he’s too tired to move around the apartment.”

“Too tired? Anna, I think we need to see Yazan.”

“No, Yazan doesn’t want -”

Anna interjected, “I know Yazan doesn’t want Mike there,” and briefly mouthed sorry to Mike, “but we’re worried that if the body rejects the pregnancy without us being able to get labour underway, there’s a real chance the babies will die as the body pumps T-cells all over.” Randy looked down in worry. “We’re here to help you, Yazan and the babies, okay? So can we come over and have a look?”

“Okay… but I bet you Yazan will not be impressed!”

“I guess I’ll have to practise my best bedside manner then, right?”

***

After two hours in bed, Yazan already hated doing nothing. He never was the kind of person to sit around and wait, so he did what he thought would be vaguely useful: he decided to go and clean the apartment. He saw Randy picking up so much of the slack around the apartment because of his immobility, so he thought he’d do something nice and clean the place room by room. So, with a bit of effort, he slowly moved himself out of bed, slipped on a bra and some shorts and got to work.

He grabbed a broom from a cupboard and started sweeping around the main living room. He thought it was a fairly simple task to do, especially as he could lean on the broom and rest as needed. I’ll just start with the sweeping and go from there, Yazan thought.

After about 15 minutes of sweeping across the entire apartment, he started to feel a different kind of pressure building up in his back. He groaned as he rubbed his lower back to try and dissipate the pressure, but noticed it wasn’t disappearing.

“Hmm” he groaned. “Maybe I’ll go and sit down.” As he went to go and sit, he suddenly felt a searing pain spread across his back and abs. He gasped in shock at how intense the jabbing pain felt. “That’s insane! No, this can’t be it… No, no, no, no, no!”

He can’t be in labour now. He eventually sat down on the sofa and calmed down the babies as they kicked up a fuss. “Shh, it’s okay kids. Daddy’s here. Seems like you’ll be here sooner than expected, huh?”

About 20 seconds later, he felt what he could only describe as a water balloon bursting inside him, followed by a small trickle of liquid coming out of his ass. “Fuck!!! This can’t be happening now!!”

His waters have broken. These kids want out now!

He groaned as he tried to stand back up, but struggled with the pain across his hips and lower back. He could feel the babies push further down towards his ass, confirming that his manpussy really was going to be where the kids were coming out.

After two more intense contractions, Randy walked into the apartment. Anna and Mike stayed outside to wait for Randy to invite them in. Randy looked down in shock as he saw Yazan kneeling on the floor, rubbing his belly aggressively and sweating all over his body. He also saw a small puddle of liquid near his ass. Yazan looked up and smiled briefly at Randy before groaning in pain.

“Yaz, what the fuck are you doing? You’re meant to be in bed!”

“Argh, you know I can’t sit still! I just wanted to - ARGH!” Yazan screamed as he felt an intense contraction rip through his body.

“Babe, how long have you had these contractions?”

“I don’t know, but they’re getting stronger!” Yazan groaned.

“Anna! Mike! In here - now!”

“Wait, what…” Yazan turned and groaned as he saw Anna and Mike walk into the apartment and look down at the scene. Mike’s jaw dropped as he saw Yazan’s extremely bloated belly.

“I really should’ve brought him in for a planned c-section last week. Shit!” Mike said quietly to Anna.

“Well, he’s in labour now, so we need to help, Mike!” Anna replied sternly. Randy looked at Anna, slightly pleased that she’s standing her ground. Anna kneeled down to Yazan, “Hey Yazan, I’m Anna, one of the research assistants. We’re going to take you to RPA now. We’ll call one of our other assistants to prepare a private room. For now, just breathe, and once this contraction is done we’ll get you to stand up. Okay?”

Yazan nodded as he struggled to breathe through a new contraction. Randy looked incredibly concerned as he saw Yazan holding his breath.

“Yaz, you need to breathe through the contractions. Like this..” Randy tried to help Yazan slowly breathe as the contraction slowly died down.

“Ahh, that was a rough one, Randy!” Yazan lightly chuckled. Randy didn’t find it humorous as it looked like Yazan was about to pass out from the pain.

“Alright, we’re going to help you stand up now, Yazan, okay?” Anna put on her best doctor’s voice. Randy looked up and smiled at Anna as she took the lead. “Mike, can you help Randy lift Yazan?”

Mike quickly scrambled across to Yazan, as he and Randy helped bring Yazan to his feet. Yazan groaned loudly as he felt the babies dig further into his hips.

“This hurts so fucking badly, Mike. Fuck you!”

Randy mumbled to Mike as Yazan moaned, “What’s that phrase, you’re in the shitter?” Mike glared back at Randy, while Randy smirked back at him.

[marsdql]

ʟᴀᴛᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋs

ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ soft!jay x reader | fluff, comfort ᯓᡣ𐭩 | wc: less than 2.0k?? Idk//drabble 𐙚 | synopsis: jay coming home to you sobbing on your desk because of all the stress caused by school/work and making you feel better.

It was past midnight, you’ve been studying since you came back from work and can’t seem to finish anything despite all the hours already wasted on your projets that were supposed to be finished days ago.

Usually you’d sort something out, organise everything and make a plan, but today as different, you were overwhelmed, all sorts of emotions coming to you at once. Your boyfriend Jay hadn’t come home from his job yet, leaving you with your own thoughts.

Being the sensitive person you are, you just let yourself be at this point, letting all the tears come out and drip onto the sheets on paper under you, like if nothing mattered anymore. You let yourself cry, trying to be quiet as If anyone could hear you.

Jay finally came home, his car keys jiggling in his hand before putting them down on the coffee table. You didn’t even notice the door open, too lost in your emotions. He walked slowly into your shared bedroom, assuming you were asleep, but to his surprise, you were there on the desk with your face buried in your hands as u try to stop your mouth from making any loud noises.

He paused for a moment, taking in what was happening—your hunched shoulders, your trembling hands and just the fact you aren’t in bed yet. He walked slowly towards you. “Hey.. what’s wrong? Sweetheart talk to me” he said, crouching a little to get your height, attempting in getting you to look at him.

Just as you heard his soft voice, all your tears came crashing down faster, your brain telling you that your boyfriend had a long day and now he comes home needs to deal with you. “I-im s’sorry j-jay.. I can’t” choking on your sobs, not being able to get a word out.

“Hey, talk to me, it’s okay im right here, what’s wrong? Comon baby come ‘ere ” He slowly grabs you closer to him, getting you to sit in between his legs as he sits on the edge of the bed. You can barely talk, your sobs suffocating you. “Jay… I can’t do anything… i’m. I’m I can’t I just can’t. None of my teammates helped me on this project now I have to do it alone and it’s due tomorrow. I don’t know what to do I can’t do anything right im so behind in everything..” you blurt out as you catch your breath, proceeding to cry even harder right after you finish your sentence.

You changed your position, your chin on his shoulder, not wanting him to see your red face and puffy eyes, but he doesn’t mind your shyness, not wanting you to feel even worse in this vulnerable moment. “Baby, you don’t deserve any of this. My sweet girl— you’re working so hard im so so proud of you, your teammates don’t deserve you. You’ll finish this project it’s okay, just calm down..”

“Jay….” You whined, hugging him a little closer. “Mmhm baby? You ‘wanna rest? It’ll make you feel better, who cares about a project, your health is more important right now.” he said before moving you up into the bed, tucking you in knowing that you were too tired to protest. He gently placed your head off his shoulders and onto the pillow, exposing you face, making him rub your tear stains off with his thumb.

Right before tucking you fully in, he noticed the water on your nightstand, quickly grabbing it and making you drink some before dozing off, whispering sweet nothings to you as he held the bottle with one hand and rubbing your back with the other. “Poor girl.. you’ve been too hard on yourself.” “Just a little bit more, good job—let’s get you sleep now, hm?”. As you finished drinking water, you quickly laid on him, signaling that you may need a little more affection tonight compared to the others.

He let out a soft chuckle, pulling you closer and adjusting the blanket over both of you. “Alright, I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. His hand continued its gentle rhythm on your back, grounding you in his warmth.

“You’re safe now,” he whispered, his breath tickling your hair. “No need to carry so much on your shoulders—just let it go for tonight.”

You felt the steady rise and fall of his chest as he hummed softly, a melody you couldn’t quite place but felt comforting all the same. The weight of the day melted away as his presence wrapped around you, every whispered word and tender touch assuring you that you were exactly where you needed to be.

And as your breathing slowed, matching his, you felt your worries dissolve, replaced by the quiet comfort of knowing he would stay there with you until the morning light.

———————————————————————————

It’s nearly 2am I’m half alseep, I am so sorry for whatever mistakes I made here..

[changbinsboobs]

Can you do skz as husbands next ??

Skz as Husbands series : Chan

Ohhhh boy...ya'll are not going to like this. Idk if i myself am shocked or not surprised...but literary ALL of the cards are BAD, and i kept on drawing and drawing more hoping at least one good will come out but...🥲 sadly all of them are pretty weird.

That being said i am reading current energy not current energy, and im not getting AT ALL vibes from chan for wanting to get settled down anytime soon. All of his focus is on his career and goals and ambitions etc and theres just no place left for a family.

So i guess it makes sense that all of the cards are really negative as it's just not his time now. I do feel potential in him tho (after some therapy and probably retirement).

Im just gonna go ahead and start with the 9oS which tells me that being a husband and the head of the family will put IMMENSE pressure on him with which he cannot deal with. I think he makes it much bigger in his mind and lets doubts, paranoia, stress etc get the best of him and im seeing him actually having pretty hesitant thoughts on marriage for that time being just for that same reason. I think he's a guy that sees this as a very serious job (can imagine him picking that up from his dad) and its nothing to be taken lightly and as i said it gets very twisted and exaggerated in his head and takes the best of him. If he were to get married right now, he would change very quickly from what his s/o has seen from him and take a huge turn for the worse and put forward his shadow side. Im seeing lots of toxic coping mechanisms too which very conveniently leads me to the next card.

The 3oC usually a nice card but not in this case, especially because of the heavy display of alcohol - im seeing him wanting to escape the crushing weight of his responsibilities and looking for that escape in the face of alcohol & shady friends that may be just too immature and bachelory-mindseted and have a bad influence on him. I can see him missing for nights on end, which also relates to the 5oP as well and him giving...no having to be forced to give the bare minimum, and him even struggling to do that, and twisting it all to look like the victim. But more on that card at the end. So as i was saying im seeing him being very absent a lot of the time, not only because of work but because he's out and about with his friends. Im not really getting cheating from the cards - but im getting heavy vibes of a similar setting where temptation is just around the corner and him just living as if he had no family back at home waiting for him. This - once again very conveniently ties to the next card😂

Which is the 5oW. Im seeing lots of fight, probably initially starting because of his prolonged missing and eventually moving on to different things. Im seeing fights escalating very quickly, starting very quickly, being very exhausting and very damaging. To the relationship, to both their mental health and to some random objects nearby👀

With The Fool im seeing him being way too immature for something like this at this current point and it shows pretty well on the card - he's just not in the right state of mind for this chapter of his life and if it were to happen it will bring out his unreadiness and immaturity forth even more - to show where he has to work on to be ready for that next stage.

And back to the 5oP again, aside from him having to be forced to give the bare minimum and him even failing at that - he very skillfuly turns it out to look as if he's the attacked one, as if he's the bullied one, as if his wife's the one who's starving him and making him out to be the bad guy and he just feels really bullied by the whole situation and behaves that way and expresses himself that way so i would say - a huge victim complex.

Overall i would say this reading was more of a "chans toxic defence and cooing mechanisms if he were put into the corner" reading, which is kinda sad cuz that doesn't really give much insight as to what he would be like as a husband cuz what we just saw wasn't really chan but his "alter ego" that protects him in a way. Yk we all have that one side of us that takes over as if on autopilot when we feel threatened in any way. I think that would be the same for chan, and if he were to feel comfortable with the idea of marriage and feel ready for that, the reading would be way way different. But i find future readings to not be much of my thing cuz thats way to unreliable cuz energy can change in so many ways, theres so many different outcomes... but we'll see how the other readings turn out and if all the guys have weird current energies that don't really answer what they'll be like as proper husband i may try a future reading.

[mage-ical-character-person]

Time for more because. Because!

first off: wanna point this out: Meme games

The fact that the minigame format like Meme is used for WOTFI instead of the using the usual non-minigame challenges, or the choose your own adventure of WOTFI 2023 despite the whole “We should really do this again sometime”

And Just... That's Puzzles' whole thing. Don't know what to make of that!

and... this

hehehe… sillies… Second, some stuff from other posts I’ve made and discussions I’ve had I wanna stick here so it’s all in one place. Colored text is new stuff if you've read the other posts already and don't want to read repeat info and musings. Alternatively if you haven’t read the post and you want to. I got links.

First from here: Puzzles and Four both struggle with empathy to some extent. Four has more practice with the aspects of empathy that can be learned (cognitive empathy) but it’s still something he usually needs to actively think about, which is something he forgets to do sometimes. Puzzles sucks at just about every form of empathy. But they both still care very deeply for the people they consider friends (see reblog above about protectiveness)

Also Four and Puzzles both put people through torment for content. Puzzles with just about everything he does, Four with stuff like “I put Mario in Danger for Views” “Mario Does Literally Anything for Views” and this

Next, this.

Mario only is friends with SMG4 as a result of not being the Mario he was before Four showed up. When Mario is briefly turned back during the Lawsuit arc, Four and Meggy make him back into the Mario they're friends with without any input from him. This sorta parallels the whole Leggy situation in a weird way. In addition, Puzzles brainwashes people to make them more entertaining and cooperative for his shows. The USB SMG4 arrived in did the same thing for Four automatically as soon as he arrived.

And!

We're talking about It's Gotta Be Perfect again. Puzzles gets a fatal error that tells him to contact the manufacturers, then we get eye imagery. Then we get the IGBP Goop.

Notably, this happens when Leggy is turned back into Meggy. In other words, when Puzzles loses his only friend and source of support. I've gone on and on about how what snapped Four out of it in IGBP is his friends and being reassured they'll always be by his side, and what that means for Puzzles. and this is just... another instance of that.

But with the Goop, there's something else. It seems to be tied to strong emotions, but the fact that it shows up when Four is worried about being left behind for not being good enough--and being reassured otherwise is what allows him to break free-- AND the fact that with Puzzles it shows up when he loses his only friend and wants her back...

And, well... This...

(Seriously what was up with the stuff that happened to Three in IGBP I feel like we don’t talk about it enough) It's... well, it's something. Puzzles would do ANYTHING anything to not lose his friend, regardless of if said friend is okay with it. I don't know if Four's quite to that point, but he's... adjacent to that, at the very least.

The desperation to be seen... and the eye imagery associated with the Goop... it’s something

...Not wanting to be left behind, wanting to hold on to the people you have... wanting to be perfect...

Well... I mean, it parallels other characters, too.

(With Niles Specifically, I can't help but think that the Goop is some kind of virus similar to Niles/Eldritch Zero. I mean, it was invoked by an adware)

On the subject of characters other than SMG3 and SMG4 that parallel Puzzles, let's talk about Clench and Tari.

Both Puzzles' TV head Clench are prosthetics in a way, and Puzzles can transport people into TV shows, while Tari can, with Clench, do the same with video games. And for what it's worth, with Western Spaghetti, they're sort of on the same... frequency? Tari being able to interface with the simulation and hijack Puzzles' signal to bring forth dancing Mario.

AND

Oh and also Puzzle has parallels with Axol as well.

I mean just...

friendless childhood to becoming obsessed with media to creating that media (still obsessive).

And.. resourcefulness?

Yeah we'll call it resourcefulness.

Puzzles Parallels Post

feel like I keep repeating things over various reblog chains and stuff and my thoughts are never all in one place so. This where I keep linking said reblog chains. One of which has an endpoint that does not involve me but sshhh.

Mr. Puzzles and SMG4 have SO much in common. Four comes pretty close to Puzzles-level bad on some occasions and they share a lot of the same insecurities

I believe part of the reason Puzzles targeted Four in the first place (because I doubt “You’re the stupidest show I’ve ever seen!” Is the only reason) is because it’s easy to exploit the insecurities of someone who has the same insecurities as you, because you know that feeling in and out. Even if for Puzzles he probably didn’t have a lot of self awareness about it. Probably something more along the lines of “Oh, this guy clearly cares the correct amount about pleasing an audience and the quality of his content! But he’s not even good at it! I can use this!”

The difference is that Four has friends. He has a support system to pull him out of it when these insecurities start to make him spiral. Puzzles does not have that and frankly seems to have given up on ever attaining it. Twice.

AND THEN THERE’S ALSO THE PARALLELS WITH SMG3

Because part of it is because SMG3 and SMG4 already parallel each other so you can’t have Puzzles parallel one without the other.

But ALSO! Very similar motivations of wanting to be seen and appreciated. With a side of pettiness and jealousy. Also this

And this was also an incredibly SMG3 adjacent moment

But also the show keeps calling attention to SMG3’s difficulty making friends. Which is also Puzzles’ whole thing.

I need them to actually go somewhere with this so bad. Because 3 and 4 might be the only people who can actually understand Puzzles. Or at least let them understand themselves better as a result of Puzzles.

I NEED the “You and I aren’t so different” moment SO BAD!!

[unhingedangstaddict]

WIP Wednesday!! Got tagged by the incredible @quintessenceofdust88 and @typicalopposite

Here's some more of my bucktommy mpreg fic All Of You, All Of Me (Intertwined)

Tommy felt nervous but also a bit angry at himself and at Evan as he walked into the 118. The first person he saw was Eddie.

“Cap’s in his office doing paperwork. Buck’s upstairs. Hen and Chim are up there too.” Eddie told him. “How ya feeling?”

“I'd rather not try and get into it all right now. Thanks for your help Eddie.” Tommy said sincerely and headed up the stairs. Sure enough, Evan was sitting at the end of the table closest to the couch, reading something on his phone. Hen was at the opposite end of the table reading a book, and Howie was on one of the couches on his phone.

Evan looked up and saw Tommy. He put his phone down and stood. “You came to my work?” Evan sounded pissed.

“I told you, we need to talk.” Tommy insisted.

“I’m not interested in whatever it is you have to say, so please leave and stop calling and texting.” Evan crossed his arms.

“Evan, please.” Tommy pleaded. He could feel Hen and Howie's eyes on them, watching but not saying anything.

“Don’t.” Evan’s tone had a sharp edge. “I said it before, and I won’t say it again. You need to leave. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to hear whatever it is you have to say. I waited months hoping to hear from you. I saw you bubbling me and yet you never reached out, Tommy. It's been almost five months. I got tired of waiting. I'm not interested anymore. You had your chance, you lost it, and you need to let it go. It's actually really shitty of you to show up like this after I have made it clear I don't want to talk.”

“I get that, I do. But you need to hear me out, please,” Tommy pleaded.

Chimney stood and walked over, almost putting himself between Tommy and Evan. “Tommy, man, you know I love you but I think it's time for you to go.”

“Evan I get it, trust me, I wouldn't want to hear from me either. But you need to hear what I have to say.” Tommy stressed.

Evan scoffed. “Fine. Say it. Say whatever the hell it is that's apparently so damn important, then Get. Out.”

It wasn’t how Tommy wanted to do it, but he had no choice now. Not to mention that he was honestly a bit hurt that Evan thought so little of Tommy that he assumed Tommy would so vehemently ignore a clearly set boundary without extremely good reason to do so. Tommy snapped. “I’m pregnant with your kid, asshole.” Tommy grabbed a sonogram photo from his pocket and tossed it in Evan’s direction, then headed for the stairs. “It’s a girl, by the way.” He added, and continued down the stairs, doing what Evan asked of him, and leaving.

No pressure tags for @ladyeyrewrites @desert--moonchild @sunnywithachanceofbi

[simonsomeriley]

sleep deprivation - sirius black ꨄ

warnings: mentions of past family trauma/abuse, sirius experiences post-traumatic stress, sleep deprivation ❤

wc: 745

The common room fire had long since died out, leaving behind the faint smell of smoke and ash. The armchair beneath you was dusty and cold, its cushions long overdue for replacement, but it hadn't been the discomfort that was keeping you awake.

It was him.

Sirius sat on the faint red rug near the hearth, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands raking through his hair. He was a mess of sharp edges and exhaustion, his face pale and gaunt in the faint light from the windows.

“Still awake?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He flinched at that, turning to look at you, his storm-grey eyes bloodshot. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?” he asked, his usual cocky lilt dulled into something hollow.

You shrugged, tucking your knees up to your chest. “Shouldn’t you?”

A bitter laugh escaped him, low and dry. “Yeah.”

You didn’t press him, but you didn’t leave either. It'd been like this for days— Sirius spiraling into sleepless nights with nothing but his thoughts for company. He’d become a ghost of himself, barely eating, & barely talking.

But tonight, the cracks were deeper, more visible.

“You need to rest.” you said softly.

“I’m fine.”

“Sirius—”

“I told you, I’m fine!” His voice lashed out like thunder, echoing in the empty room. He stood abruptly, pacing towards the window, his hands trembling as they clenched into fists.

You didn’t flinch. You’d seen him like this before— angry and hurting, but not directed at you. He was angry at himself, at the things out of his control, at the weight of a family that loomed over him like a dark cloud.

“I can’t sleep,” he muttered after a long silence, his back still to you. His voice cracked, and it took everything in you not to rush to him, “Every time I close my eyes, it’s… it’s them. Their faces. Their voices.”

You stood slowly, stepping towards him. “Your family?”

He nodded stiffly. “It’s always the same. My mother screaming. Regulus, hurt, looking at me as if I'd betrayed him…” He let out a shaky breath, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “And then it’s… it’s you.”

Your heart stuttered. “Me?”

He turned to face you, his expression raw and unguarded in a way you’d never seen him before, “You. Gone. Hurt. And I can’t stop it, or prevent it, no matter what I do.”

Your chest tightened. Sirius wasn’t the kind to admit to weakness— not to anyone, not even to himself. To see him like this, vulnerable and unraveling, felt like seeing a wound he’d kept away from sight for far too long.

“Sirius,” you said softly to him, taking another step closer. “Your thoughts aren't a manifest of reality. I’m here. I'll always be. I’m safe.”

His jaw clenched, and he looked away, his hands trembling at his sides. “But for how long? You’re close to me now, and that means you’re a target. Everyone that I care about, everyone that I love, is. And if something were to happen to you…”

He didn’t finish that last sentence, his voice trailing off into a heavy silence.

You reached for his hand, wrapping your fingers around his, “Nothing’s going to happen to me. Or you, Siri. We’re in this together.”

He looked at you then, his eyes glassy and filled with something between desperation and disbelief. “How could you be so sure?”

“Because I know you, Sirius. And I know that you'd fight like hell to protect the people you care about.” You squeezed his hand, trying to ground him. “But you can’t fight if you don’t rest.”

He let out a gentle, bitter laugh. “You’re relentless, y'know that?”

“I’ve been told.”

His lips quirked into the faintest smile to mirror yours, though it didn’t reach his eyes, “Alright,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll try.”

“Good,” you said, tugging him gently toward the couch. “Come on.”

He followed without protest, collapsing onto the cushions like a marionette with its strings cut. You sat beside him, letting him rest his head on your lap as you brushed your fingers through his dark hair.

For the first time in days, weeks, his breathing evened out, his body relaxing against you.

And as you sat there, watching the first light of dawn creep through the windows, you made a silent vow to be the one thing Sirius Black never had growing up: a constant.

[emjayewrites]

in between the lines • jules kounde (3/4)

SYNOPSIS: At Zuri’s engagement party, Senait meets her best friend’s fiancé, Aurélien, and his friend, Jules. A spontaneous hookup with Jules sparks undeniable chemistry, but when Senait ghosts him afterward, she finds herself wrestling with her insecurities as the casual fling begins shifting into something deeper.

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x Senait Kiros (@/subanbrn)

WARNINGS: football b.s., cursing, smut, drama, mentions of cheating/past relationships, dominant!jules, instant attraction/fast development. MINORS DNI (18+)

TAGLIST: @trenterprise @f1-football-fiend @lettersofgold @hopefulromantic1 @deonn-jaelle @perfecttrashface @queenshikongo3 @2serenity0 @saturnville @sinflowersugar @hotfudgeslug @muglermami @serpenttines-library @sucredreamer @julescpu @greyishbach @shelovesfootie @certifiedlesbianbaddie @trinitoldyouso @greedyjudge2 @peyiswriting @127hydrangeas @rosiesdior @whoevenisthiz

A/N: This is the last 'book' of the "football baes universe". Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist. Also, I don't know much about Eritrean culture besides Google...so this might be a tad wrong. Gif by @hopefulromantic1

Senait's mother had outdone herself with the spread – injera perfectly laid out, zigni and shiro steaming in their bowls, the rich scent of berbere and traditional Eritrean coffee filling the air. But the real feast, apparently, was Senait's love life.

"Dr. Tekle's son just finished his residency," her mother said, carefully casual as she spooned more zigni onto Senait's plate. "He's moving back to New York next month."

"Mama..."

"He's very handsome. Good Eritrean family."

Her father nodded in agreement, the gesture familiar from years of backing up her mother's matchmaking attempts. "His parents are from Asmara, like us."

Her phone buzzed on the table. Jules' name lit up the screen, accompanied by a photo of Maurice. She flipped the phone over, but not before her mother caught the smile she couldn't quite suppress.

"Who is that making you smile like that?"

"No one."

"Lies." Her mother's eyes sparkled as she began preparing for the coffee ceremony, the familiar ritual a backdrop to her interrogation. "Tell me about this no one."

Senait pushed food around her plate. How could she explain Jules? The professional footballer who had a pet rooster, who drank chamomile tea and watched Batman, who somehow managed to be both dominant and gentle in a way that terrified her.

"He's just... someone I met through Zuri."

"Zuri?" Her mother perked up. "The one married to the footballer?"

"Engaged," Senait corrected automatically. "And yes."

Her phone buzzed again. Another message from Jules: Maurice misses you. Judging my dinner choices don't hit like yours.

"You're smiling again," her mother observed.

"I'm not—" Senait's protest was cut short by her work phone ringing. Her boss's name flashed on the screen.

"On a Sunday?" her father frowned.

"Sorry, I have to take this." Senait escaped to the hallway, already feeling the familiar knot of anxiety tightening in her chest.

Twenty minutes later, she returned to find her parents having a silent conversation with their eyes – one perfected after twenty-six years of marriage.

"Senait," her mother said softly. "You don't look happy."

"I'm fine."

"You look tired. Stressed." Her mother reached across the table, taking her hand. "This job..."

"Pays the bills," Senait finished firmly. But even she could hear how hollow the words sounded.

Her personal phone buzzed again. Jules had sent a video this time – Maurice strutting around his enclosure while classical music played in the background.

His music taste shifted a bit. He prefers Bach over Beethoven now, Jules texted. I blame you.

Despite herself, Senait felt the tension in her shoulders ease slightly. This was Jules' way – gentle persistence, humor mixed with genuine care. Never pushing too hard, but never quite letting go either.

"There's that smile again," her mother said. "Tell me about him."

So Senait did. Not everything – not about the heated nights or the way he could command her with just his voice. But about Maurice, about his tea ritual, about how he noticed when she was stressed and never made her feel weak for it.

"He sounds... different," her mother said carefully. "From Tymir."

The name still caused a twinge, but a duller one now. "He is."

"Then why do you look scared?"

Senait stared at her half-eaten dinner. "Because what if he's not? What if I'm just... seeing what I want to see again?"

Her father cleared his throat. "Or what if you're letting fear of the past rob you of something good?"

Before Senait could respond, her work phone buzzed again. Three emails marked urgent, all requiring immediate attention.

"I have to—"

"Go," her mother sighed. "But Senait? Sometimes the biggest risk is not taking one at all."

Back in her apartment later that night, Senait found herself surrounded by work files but thinking about Jules. About his offer to help her with the calligraphy business. About how he'd noticed her true passion for it even before she'd really admitted it to herself.

Her Etsy notifications pinged – another order for custom wedding invitations. She'd been getting more lately, word of mouth spreading about her work. But it wasn't enough to live on, not in New York.

But it could be, a small voice whispered. With the right support, the right planning...

Her phone lit up with another text from Jules: Stop working. It's midnight there.

S: How do you know I'm working? J: Because I know you.

Four simple words that shouldn't have made her heart race. But they did, because they were true. Jules did know her – had taken the time to learn her, to see past her walls.

And she'd been pushing him away.

I'm scared, she typed, then deleted it. I miss you, she typed, then deleted that too.

Finally: Maurice has terrible taste in music. Bach over Beethoven? Don't blame me for this switch-up.

Jules' response was immediate: He gets it from his godfather.

S: Aurélien?

J: Oui. Terrible taste, that one.

Senait found herself smiling, even as her work phone buzzed with another "urgent" email. The contrast was stark – the anxiety that immediately rose with work notifications versus the warmth that Jules' messages brought.

Her mother's words echoed in her mind: "Sometimes the biggest risk is not taking one at all."

Opening her laptop, Senait pulled up her calligraphy portfolio. Really looked at it – the wedding invitations, the custom journals, the manifestation cards that had started as a hobby but gained a following.

Then she opened her work email, filled with demands and deadlines and soul-crushing projects.

"Let me help you start up," Jules had said.

Her phone buzzed again: You're thinking too loud, chérie.

How can you possibly know that?

Because I know you, he repeated. And I know you're probably sitting there surrounded by work, thinking about all the reasons why you can't change anything.

Senait stared at his message, feeling exposed. Stop being right all the time.

Stop being scared all the time.

The words hit her like a physical blow. Because he was right – she was scared. Scared of change, scared of dependence, scared of letting someone see her fully and decide she wasn't worth the effort.

Like Tymir had.

But Jules wasn't Tymir. Jules noticed things, cared about details, supported without suffocating. Jules had a ridiculous rooster that liked classical music and a tea ritual that would make British grandmothers proud.

Jules was... Jules.

I'm not ready, she typed finally.

J: For what? S: To quit my job. To take risks. To... J: To let someone in?

She swallowed hard. Yes.

There was a long pause before his response: Good thing I'm patient then.

And that was Jules in a nutshell – understanding her fears without letting them become walls, supporting without pushing, being solid without being suffocating.

I do miss Maurice, she admitted finally.

J: Just Maurice? S: And his terrible taste in music. J: And?

Senait took a deep breath. And his annoyingly persistent owner.

J: See? Was that so hard? S: Shut up. J: Make me.

Heat pooled in her belly at his words, remembering exactly how she'd shut him up before. In his kitchen, in his shower, against his—

Her work phone buzzed again, breaking the moment. But this time, instead of immediate anxiety, Senait felt something else: resolve.

Maybe she wasn't ready to quit her job. Maybe she wasn't ready to let Jules help her build something new. Maybe she wasn't ready for a lot of things.

But she was ready to stop pushing away something good just because she was scared it might turn bad.

I have next weekend free, she typed before she could talk herself out of it.

Booking your flight now, came his immediate response.

And for once, Senait didn't argue. Didn't push back. Just let herself feel the anticipation, the warmth, the possibility.

Because maybe her mother was right. Maybe the biggest risk wasn't in letting someone in.

Maybe it was in keeping them out.

_______________________________________________

LaGuardia's familiar chaos felt different this time. Senait wheeled her carry-on through security, phone pressed to her ear as Zuri's excitement bubbled through the speaker.

"You're really going to do it?" Zuri asked for the third time. "Like, actually quit?"

"I'm thinking about it," Senait corrected, finding her gate. "Which is crazy enough."

"Not crazy. Overdue." Zuri's voice took on that influencer tone she used when discussing manifestation. "Your current job is literally killing your soul."

Senait couldn't argue. Working at Precision PR wasn't terrible – the mid-sized firm handled decent clients, and her junior account executive position kept her afloat in New York, even if just barely. But fifty-hour weeks managing entitled clients' social media crises while making just enough to afford her small Bushwick apartment and once-in-a-while luxuries wasn't exactly living the dream.

Big ups for my side job and savings though.

"The new intern's been helpful at least," Senait said, settling into a seat. "Pretty sure Kelly would sacrifice her firstborn for a full-time offer."

"Good. Let her handle the bullshit while you plan your exit strategy." There was a pause. "You know, I could promote your calligraphy—"

"Zuri, no."

"My platform's growing! Ever since the media found out I'm dating Aurélien—"

"I appreciate it," Senait cut in. "Really. And if you want to refer actual clients my way, amazing. But I need to do this myself."

"Fine, fine." Zuri's smile was audible. "So… two extra days with Jules, huh?"

Senait was glad her friend couldn't see her cheeks flush. "I had the PTO saved up."

"Mhmm. Nothing to do with missing him?"

"I miss Maurice."

"Girl, please. You're literally flying to Barcelona for dick."

"I'm hanging up now."

"Tell Jules I say hi! And that if he hurts you, I'll have Aurélien break his legs!"

Senait ended the call, shaking her head but smiling. Her phone immediately lit up with a text from Jules: Boarded yet?

S: Still at my gate. Flight's on time though. J: Good. Maurice is preparing a welcome concert. S: You're ridiculous. J: You like it.

And she did, that was the problem. She liked everything about him – his playfulness, his quiet strength, the way he commanded without controlling. Even his absolutely absurd relationship with that rooster.

The flight passed in a blur of work emails (mostly Kelly asking clarifying questions about projects) and half-hearted attempts at napping. By the time they landed in Barcelona, Senait's body was confused about what time it was, but her heart knew exactly where it was going.

Jules waited by baggage claim, looking effortlessly sexy in a pair of shorts, a plain white t-shirt, and Adidas Sambas. The sight of him – tall, dreads pulled back, quiet confidence radiating – made something in her chest tighten.

"Chérie," he murmured, pulling her into his arms. She melted against him, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne.

"Hi," she managed, suddenly shy despite everything they'd shared.

His hand found the small of her back, guiding her toward the exit. "Tired?"

"A little."

"Good thing I have a very good shower."

The drive to his house was comfortable, Jules' hand resting on her thigh as he caught her up on Maurice's latest musical preferences ("He's now developed a thing for jazz") and team gossip. Senait found herself relaxing, the constant tension she carried in New York easing just from his presence.

"You're quieter than usual," he observed, pulling into his driveway.

"Just thinking."

"About?"

Senait watched him carry her bag inside, appreciating the view. "Life. Work. Changes."

Jules set her bag down, turning to study her face. "Good changes?"

"Scary ones."

He stepped closer, tucking a curl behind her ear. "Tell me."

So she did. About Kelly's eager assistance providing unexpected breathing room, about her Etsy sales increasing, about possibilities she'd never let herself consider before.

Jules listened, his hands working the tension from her shoulders as she talked. When she finished, he kissed her temple.

"Shower first," he decided. "Then we talk more."

The shower was exactly what she needed – hot water sluicing away travel grime, Jules' hands gentle as he washed her hair. For once, there was nothing sexual about it. Just care, just comfort.

"I missed this," she admitted quietly, letting him work conditioner through her curls.

"Just this?"

"Maybe other things too."

His chuckle rumbled through his chest. "We'll get to those other things. But tonight, you rest."

"Jules—"

"Not a discussion, chérie." His voice carried that tone that brooked no argument. "You're exhausted, stressed, and probably haven't eaten properly in days."

She wanted to protest, but he wasn't wrong. "Since when are you the voice of reason?"

"Since you needed one." He rinsed her hair carefully. "I have food warming. Then sleep."

"So bossy," she murmured, but there was no heat in it.

"You love it."

And maybe she did. How he took care of her without making her feel weak. How he commanded without constraining. How he just… knew what she needed.

After the shower, Jules wrapped her in what had to be the softest towel she'd ever felt. "Better?"

Senait nodded, letting him guide her to his bedroom where he'd laid out one of his t-shirts for her to sleep in.

"Food first," he insisted when she eyed the bed longingly. "Then sleep."

They ate on his balcony, the Barcelona night warm around them. Jules told her about training, about everything and nothing. His voice washed over her, soothing in its familiarity.

"I missed you," he said suddenly, seriously. "Not just the sex. Just… you. Here. Being yourself."

Something in Senait's chest cracked open at his words. At their simple honesty, their quiet certainty.

"I missed you too," she whispered, the admission feeling like surrender and victory all at once.

Jules smiled, the expression soft in a way few people ever got to see. "I know." He stood, pulling her up with him. "Come on. Bed."

As they settled under his ridiculously high-thread-count sheets, Senait found herself curling into him automatically. His arms came around her, solid and sure.

"Sleep," he murmured into her hair. "We have time."

It was at that moment she realized this wasn't just a fling anymore, wasn't just physical attraction and witty banter.

This was becoming something real. Something with potential for both great joy and devastating hurt.

But as Jules' breathing evened out beside her, as the distant sound of Barcelona nightlife mixed with the occasional comment from Maurice, Senait found she wasn't as scared now.

Because Jules was right – they had time. Time to figure this out, time to face those scary changes together, time to see where this could go.

And for the first time in a long time, Senait was ready to take that time. To see what happens when she stop running and start building instead.

Even if what she was building involved a French footballer with a musically inclined rooster.

Especially if it involved that.

_______________________________________________

Jules couldn't stop smiling, even during Flick's intense training drills. The past few days with Senait had been perfect – watching her explore his favorite spots in Barcelona, her genuine excitement over the vintage Hermès scarf she'd found at his go-to shop, the way she'd curl into him during their Netflix marathons.

And the sex... well, that was getting better too, if that was even possible. Something had shifted since her arrival this time. She was more open, more present, less guarded about showing how much she wanted him.

"¡Julio!" Lamine called, sending a cross his way. Jules controlled it perfectly, muscle memory taking over despite his wandering thoughts.

Between training sessions, he grabbed his water bottle and checked his phone. Senait had finally posted about Barcelona – a carousel of photos that made his heart do something stupid in his chest. The first was of her in that vintage shop, wrapped in various scarves, laughing at the camera. Then shots of various cafes, architecture, and finally – Jules grinned – Maurice in all his glory, mid-strut with the caption: "Met a very sophisticated gentleman."

He liked the post immediately, scrolling through the comments. The usual suspects were there – Zuri with a string of heart emojis, some of Senait's work friends, her cousin...

Then a comment made him pause: "Still looking good, Sen 🔥"

The username caught his eye: tymir__gants

Something in Jules' gut tightened. He clicked on the profile, finding himself looking at what had to be Senait's ex. Recent photos showed him with a baby, some pickup basketball shots at local courts, gym selfies.

Jules scrolled, a sick curiosity driving him deeper into the profile. Then he found it – buried at the bottom, probably forgotten to delete: Senait and Tymir together, her looking younger, softer somehow. The caption read: "My smart girl 📚❤️"

"Pedazo de mierda," Jules muttered, taking in Tymir's perfectly curated feed. The man had a whole new family, had hurt Senait in ways that still affected her, yet had the audacity to comment on her photos?

"¿Estás bien?" Pedri asked, passing by with his own water bottle. (“You good?”)

"Sí." Jules locked his phone, shoving it back in his bag. He wasn't mad at Senait – she'd probably delete the comment as soon as she saw it. But the nerve of this guy...

The rest of training was intense, but Jules' mind kept drifting back to that profile. The more he thought about it, the more things clicked into place – Senait's careful distance, her fear of getting too attached, the way she'd tense sometimes when he was too openly affectionate.

"Jules! Focus!" Flick called out as Jules misplaced a pass.

He shook his head, forcing himself back into the moment. The Sevilla match was crucial, and he needed his head in the game. But during water breaks, he found himself thinking about Senait's face when she'd mentioned seeing Tymir at Whole Foods, how small her voice had gotten.

My smart girl. The caption echoed in his head. Like she was some possession, some trophy to be claimed and discarded.

"You're thinking too loud," Lewandowski commented during their cool-down stretches. "Girl problems?"

Jules managed a small smile. "Not exactly."

But maybe it was. Because Senait was at his house right now, probably working on her laptop, wearing one of his shirts like she belonged there. And some piece of shit from her past thought he had the right to comment on her photos like he hadn't broken her trust in the worst way.

"Heard she's coming to the Sevilla match," Lewandowski added in, always up for some gossip. "First time watching you play, right?"

"Yeah." The thought warmed him despite his irritation. Senait had been adamant about not being a "football girlfriend" but had casually mentioned wanting to see him play. Progress.

After training, he showered and changed, but then Jules found himself scrolling through Tymir's profile again in his car. The guy played pickup basketball now, probably still dining out on his almost-went-pro story. His recent photos showed him at parks, at clubs, with his baby mama – living his life like he hadn't nearly destroyed someone else's.

His phone buzzed with a text from Senait: Your rooster is judging my lunch choices again.

Jules smiled despite himself. What are you eating?

S: Leftover pizza. J: No wonder he's judging.

There was a pause, then: Come home and feed me better then.

Home. She'd said it so casually, probably didn't even realize. But it made something warm unfurl in Jules' chest, temporarily displacing his anger about Tymir.

J: On my way, chérie.

As he drove, Jules thought about how different Senait was with him now – still sassy, still independent, but softer around the edges. More willing to let him take care of her, to lean into the comfort he offered.

His phone buzzed at a red light. A notification that Senait had deleted a comment on her post.

Good girl, he thought, satisfaction curling through him. She didn't need him to fight her battles. She was handling it herself, just as he'd known she would.

Still... the audacity of that man. To cheat on her repeatedly, get another woman pregnant, and then have the nerve to comment on her photos years later like he had any right to her attention.

Jules pulled into his driveway, cutting the engine. Through the car window, he could see Senait on his balcony, laptop open, Maurice strutting nearby. She had one of his hoodies on despite the Barcelona heat, her hair pulled back into a low bun.

This was what Tymir had thrown away. This brilliant, beautiful woman who could match Jules wit for wit, who challenged him even as she melted for him, who was slowly learning to trust him with her walls down.

His loss, Jules thought, heading inside and then upstairs to his room. My gain.

"Your rooster is a menace," Senait called as he approached. "He knocked over my water trying to get to my pizza crust."

"He was saving you from yourself." Jules bent to kiss her, inhaling the familiar scent of her shampoo mixed with his hoodie. "Pizza for lunch? Really?"

"I was working! And it was there."

"Clearly I need to come home for lunch more often."

She rolled her eyes but didn't protest when he pulled her up from her chair. "I have deadlines."

"You have ten minutes while I make you real food." His hands slid under the hoodie, finding warm skin. "Then maybe I'll let you get back to work."

"So bossy," she murmured, but she was already melting into him.

"You love it."

She didn't deny it, just hummed noncommittally. Progress.

As Jules went downstairs to prepare a proper lunch, he watched Senait return to her work at the counter. She belonged here, he realized.

And really, that was the best revenge on Tymir's audacity – Senait, happy and thriving, choosing her own path.

Choosing someone who saw her value, who wouldn't take her for granted.

Choosing him.

He smiled, plating their food. Let Tymir keep his Instagram comments and pickup games. Jules had the real prize – Senait, in his hoodie, on his balcony, building a strange friendship with his judgmental rooster.

And he wasn't letting go.

Sunday morning found Senait setting up her away messages with unusual determination. "Out of office until Wednesday - limited access to email," she typed, finger hovering over the send button before adding, "For urgent matters, please contact Kelly."

For once, she meant it. No sneaking peeks at work emails, no "quick responses" that turned into hours of crisis management. This was her time – to watch Jules play, to explore Barcelona, to figure out what this thing between them was becoming.

You're getting so fuckin' soft, Sen, her inner voice warned. But maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. Maybe she needed soft, needed balance, needed to stop treating her life like one endless PR emergency.

The Luís Companys Olympic Stadium loomed before her, Camp Nou's temporary replacement humming with pre-match energy. Jules had arranged everything – her ticket, instructions on where to meet after, and a security escort who spoke perfect English.

"First football match?" the escort, Maria, asked as they navigated the crowds.

"That obvious?"

Maria smiled. "You have that look. Don't worry - just follow the crowd's energy. They'll let you know when to cheer."

Her seat offered a perfect view of the pitch. Senait tried to absorb the atmosphere – the chants she couldn't quite understand, the sea of Barcelona colors, the electric anticipation in the air. This was Jules' world, she realized. So different from her Manhattan conference rooms and endless Zoom calls.

The match itself was… well, she mostly followed along. She recognized Jules instantly – his graceful movement distinct even from her elevated position. She found herself holding her breath when he had the ball, cheering with the crowd when Barcelona scored.

By the time they won 5-1, Senait's voice was hoarse from yelling. She followed Maria's lead to the designated waiting area, noticing immediately the small crowd of women already gathered there.

"Player chasers," Maria explained quietly. "Every club has them."

Senait watched the women, all perfectly made up, designer bags on display. They wore Barcelona jerseys like fashion statements, giggling and posing for social media.

This is why Jules keeps us quiet, she thought. Not because he was ashamed, but because he was protecting whatever this was between them from becoming public consumption.

When Jules emerged, freshly showered and changed, several phones raised to capture him. But he moved past the waiting fans and groupies with practiced ease, finding Senait with unerring accuracy.

"Ready?" he asked simply, hand finding its usual spot on her lower back.

They slipped out a back entrance, the night air cool on Senait's flushed cheeks. In his car, Jules finally relaxed fully.

"Hungry?" he asked, pulling into traffic. "I know a place."

The place turned out to be a hole-in-the-wall serving the best street food Senait had ever tasted. They sat at a tiny table, Jules explaining plays she'd missed while she tried not to moan over her patatas bravas.

"El Clásico's next Saturday," he mentioned casually. "In Madrid. You should come."

Senait paused mid-bite. "I leave Tuesday."

"You could extend your stay."

"Jules…"

"The project can wait."

She shook her head. "It really can't. And I've already used so much PTO—"

"When's the last time you took a real break?" His voice was gentle but firm. "Not working through vacation, not checking emails between meetings. Just… lived?"

The question hit harder than she expected. When had she last truly disconnected? Even this trip, she'd planned to work through it until something in her finally rebelled.

"I'll think about it," she offered finally.

Jules seemed to accept this, turning the conversation to lighter topics. But his question lingered in her mind as they drove back to his house, as they climbed the stairs to his bedroom, as he pressed her against his door.

"You're thinking too loud," he murmured against her neck.

"Your fault. Making me question my life choices."

His laugh rumbled through his chest. "Good. Someone should."

Then his mouth found hers, and thinking became secondary to feeling. To the way he walked them backward toward his bed, to how his hands always knew exactly where to touch.

Home, some traitorous part of her mind whispered as they fell onto his ridiculously comfortable mattress. This feels like home.

But instead of panicking at the thought, Senait just pulled him closer, let herself sink into the sensation of his weight above her, his hands in her hair, his mouth trailing fire down her throat.

Maybe she would go to Madrid. Maybe she wouldn't.

But for now, she was here. Present. Living.

And that felt like progress.

_______________________________________________

Wednesday morning hit differently when you landed at LaGuardia at 2 AM. Senait stifled another yawn, staring at her laptop screen as the words blurred together. Her body was still on Barcelona time, still remembering Jules' goodbye kiss at the airport.

Her phone buzzed: Did you get any sleep?

Define sleep, she typed back to Jules.

That's a no. Take care of yourself, chérie.

Before she could respond, Kelly appeared at her cubicle, looking nervous. "Greg wants everyone in the conference room. Like, now."

Senait suppressed a groan. Greg Schultz, VP of Account Management and certified dickhead, was the last person she wanted to deal with on three hours of sleep.

The conference room was already half full when she arrived. She caught Maya's eye, her coworker subtly rolling her eyes. They'd spent enough happy hours commiserating about Greg's various microaggressions – like the time he'd told Maya her braids weren't "professional enough" for client meetings, or how he always seemed to question Senait's strategy decisions more harshly than her white colleagues'.

"Good morning, team!" Greg's fake enthusiasm filled the room. At forty-five, he embodied every corporate cliché – from his Brooks Brothers suits to his "work hard, play harder" mentality. "Big news about the Thompson account."

Senait's heart sank. Thompson meant overtime, meant endless revisions, meant—

"All hands on deck for this one," Greg continued, confirming her fears. "We're talking late nights, weekends, whatever it takes to make this launch perfect."

There goes Madrid, Senait thought, barely registering the rest of Greg's speech about dedication and career growth.

"Everyone but Senait can go," Greg announced as the meeting wrapped up. "Need a word."

Kelly shot her a sympathetic look as she filed out with the others. Senait stayed seated, already knowing where this was going.

"Senait," Greg settled into the chair across from her. "You're one of our best. But all this time off recently? Not a good look."

"One was a medical emergency," she started, careful to not mention how seeing Tymir had triggered an anxiety spiral that left her barely functional.

Greg waved his hand dismissively. "We all have personal stuff. But you want to make senior account executive? You better learn to sleep when you're dead."

Senait blinked, processing the casual disregard for her health.

"Look," he continued, "there's potential for promotion here. Small raise, bigger projects. But you need to get your head in the game. Drop everything else. The work needs you. Understand?"

She nodded automatically, mind already spinning.

"Good. That's all."

Senait left on autopilot, pausing only to tell a shocked Kelly, "Taking lunch."

"It's 11 AM!"

But Senait was already gone, her tote bag clutched like a lifeline as she headed for the elevator.

Three years. She'd given Precision PR three years of overtime, of cancelled plans, of rarely ever taking time off, of stress headaches and anxiety attacks. And for what? To be told her health didn't matter? That she should be grateful for the possibility of a "small raise"?

Her phone pinged – new Etsy notifications. Three orders:

Custom wedding signage and place cards: $2,500 (deposit paid)

Birthday signage and place cards: $1,600 (deposit paid)

Baby shower personalized 'welcome' signage: $500

Then, like the universe was trying to tell her something, an email from Raima Barcelona: "Re: Calligraphy Instructor Position - 32€/hour, Part-Time."

Senait looked up at the lobby ceiling. "Are you fucking with me?"

But maybe this wasn't a joke. Maybe this was permission.

She had savings – she'd always been careful with money, living well below her means even in New York. Her parents had made it clear their home was always open if things got tough. Zuri would help promote her work (though Senait would need to swallow her pride to accept). And Jules…

Jules, who'd offered support without pressure. Who saw her potential even when she doubted herself. Who'd probably book her a flight back to Barcelona right now if she asked.

"Fuck this job," she declared to no one in particular, heading to her favorite deli.

One Reuben sandwich and large coffee later, Senait sat at her desk, fingers hovering over her keyboard. The resignation letter was simple, professional:

"Dear Greg,

Please accept this letter as formal notification of my immediate resignation from my position as Junior Account Executive at Precision PR.

Thank you for the opportunities for growth over the past three years.

Best regards, Senait Kiros"

Her cursor hovered over "Send." Three years of stability, of knowing exactly what each day would bring, of comfortable misery – all balanced on one click.

But as she sat there, Senait noticed something: the constant tension in her shoulders, the one that had briefly disappeared in Barcelona, was already back. Not even 24 hours in New York and her body was already bracing for impact.

She hit send.

The next thirty minutes passed in a blur – clearing her personal items (fortunately few) from her desk, backing up relevant files, heading to HR with her laptop and badge.

"But… why?" the HR rep, Susan, stammered. "Was there an incident?"

Senait thought about Greg's dismissal of her health. About three years of racial undermining. About putting her job above everything else.

"It's just time," she said simply, turning in her company property. "Time for something new." And better….healthier. Time to live my life on my terms.

As she walked out of Precision PR's glass doors for the last time, Senait felt something she hadn't expected: peace.

Her phone buzzed – Jules again: Did you eat yet?

Senait smiled, stepping into the New York sunshine.

S: Actually, yes. And I have news.

J: Tell me.

She took a deep breath, typing: I just quit my job.

The three dots appeared immediately, then: Finally. When are you coming back to Barcelona?

Senait laughed out loud, startling a passing businessman. I JUST QUIT. Like, five minutes ago.

J: Perfect timing. El Clásico is Saturday. S: Jules… J: Book the flight, chérie. Maurice misses you. S: Just Maurice? J: And his very persistent owner.

Standing there on the sidewalk, free from Greg's toxicity and corporate expectations, Senait felt lighter than she had in years. Was she scared? Absolutely. But for once, the fear felt like excitement rather than dread.

Her phone buzzed again: I'll take care of you.

Three years ago, those words would have sent her running. Now, they felt like permission to fly.

Booking the flight now, she typed. But I'm paying for it myself.

J: Whatever you say, chérie. Just come back.

To Barcelona. To Jules. To a life she was finally brave enough to choose.

See you tomorrow, she sent, already pulling up flight options.

Sometimes the biggest risk was not taking one at all. But sometimes, Senait was learning, the biggest risk paid the biggest rewards.

And she was ready to collect.

TO BE CONTINUED.....

[saphig-iawn]

Finally Let Off His Leash - Part 2

[part 1]

I had my puppy on my lap again.

Since our first session he as opened up so much with me. Like the exciteable and bubbly puppy in him is reaching out into his life and making it a little brighter.

When our call connected I could tell he was just brimming with excitement, but it felt like he was trying his best not to be too forward with it.

I know how that can feel sometimes, that your passion or excitement can be something with so much energy that it makes people retreat ever so slightly.

I never want him to shrink in my care like that.

So I spoke my spell and I heard the most beautiful, heart-deep laugh and giggles ripple and then burst from his lips like an emergency slide inflating. A gentle start but explosive finish.

All I had to do was say hi to my sweet puppy and he rumbled like an old engine at me, full of happiness.

Now we had planned that our session was to be about weaving him some tantalising bondage spells (which I will write about soon), but I wanted to make sure he was nice and relaxed.

You see, he had a very stressful day and the time between our previous session was enough time that he had those little pockets of stress hidden within his muscles, so being able to tend to him right at the beginning just felt so good.

With content barks and low happy grumbles, he agreed.

Then, I treated him to some well deserved cuddle time.

I rolled him onto his side and stroked his belly and rubbed between his eyes and told him about all the places I would walk him in my town and in Wales.

Through old castle ruins, weaving between the grand arches of old viaducts, wandering over the sleeping mountains.

He did the cutest thing when I started talking about the coastal walks we could do, the rock pools we could explore when the tide was out, the beaches he could run free on.

I said how seagulls are everywhere in these places because of the food people buy, and when I said that I would let him chase the seagulls away, he began to sniff and sniff and sniff like he was there ready to pounce!

I always love the sessions I do, but sessions like these, full of care and tenderness really make my heart feel full. Giving some a space to be unapologetically themselves is something I will always strive to do with my hypnosis.

(This writing is about a real hypnosis session with real hypnosis and real people. If you would like to see more writing like this, then please support me over at https://ko-fi.com/saphig, where you can also commission 1-on-1 hypnosis sessions and have your own piece of writing just like this!)

[mikamii25]

In his arms (Chuuya fic)

Warnings: Slight angst, Fluff! <3

Chuuya Nakahara x Fem reader!

Summery: You get to go home from work at the PM early, but Chuuya has to stay, and it’s already late. It’s time to go to bed, but you can’t help but miss him. You miss being in his arms.

Word count: 715

more under cut!

“it’s so cold” you say as you hop into bed. You wished he was here with you. God how you wished Chuuya was here. I mean.. you were able to go home from the P.M. early, but it sucked that Chuuya had to stay and go on yet another long mission, that would most likely last all night. All you wanted was him, and that’s all you could think about all you think about. All you could think about were the nights when Chuuya held you close, in a tight embrace, warm and cozy under the covers after a long day at work. The moonlight Shining through the curtains and the wind howling quietly in the night. You missed him a lot. You closed your eyes as you began to think about that night…

.

.

.

“hey babe, I’m home” he said, taking his jacket off and placing it in the coat rack, along with his hat. “Oh, hey Chuuya! I missed you!” You said while walking over to the door to greet him. “God… how do you keep getting let out early? Does mori hate me or something?? Ugh- that bastard. Just can’t catch a break, can I”

You giggled, then spoke again. “I guess not, but im sure he doesn’t hate you. You’re just so good on missions, that’s all. Your good at your job” he giggles a bit “yeah, I know I am, and you are too” he said as he gave you a little kiss on the forehead. “Wow, you made dinner? I thought it was my turn to make something” he spoke while walking over to the kitchen. “Yeah, well.. I knew you were gonna come home a bit late, so I took it upon myself to make dinner instead” you said proudly as you pulled him a chair. Chuuya spoke once again “God, I’m so lucky to have such a sweet girl like you to come home to”

You both sat down at the table and ate the food you prepared. The both of you happily talked about your day, enjoying each other’s company. Afterward, he went to go take a shower and you, who had already took one earlier, grabbed a book you were reading and hopped in bed. About 20 minutes later, he came out of the bathroom, dressed in his pajamas and hopped in bed with you. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, then spoke quietly. “I’m so glad to finally be in bed with you. Been waiting for this all day, darlin'…. Work sucks"

I know it does.. trust me" you say, before yawning. Work did suck. Long hours and stressful missions, but it’s what you had to do. I mean, it wasn’t that bad since you were with Chuuya. He was good at protecting you on missions, even if he knew you could handle yourself. “Well, goodnight love” he said with a soft voice before fluttering his eyes shut. You began to feel your eyes become heavy, so you closed your eyes as well. Safe and sound, in your sweet boyfriend’s arms.

.

.

.

thinking of that night made you want Chuuya even more already, but you began to feel your eyes get heavy, so you fluttered them shut. Clutching onto the covers for warmth as you slowly fell asleep. Still so cold and alone.

an hour later, the door to the house opens, then shuts. Then the door to the room. He threw his stuff in the room and began to undress. Taking off everything except his plain button shirt. Then sliding in bed next to you. He places a warm kiss on your forehead as he speaks. “Hey darlin'.. I’m sorry I couldn’t be home sooner"

he then wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a warm and sleepy embrace. He watches your face light up slightly in your sleep. It seems you have realized that your boyfriend Chuuya is here, even though you’re asleep. God how he loved that pretty face of yours. It made him feel so happy to see you like that. He gently placed his hand on the back of your head and gives you another warm forehead kiss. “Sleep well darlin'…. I love you"

.

.

.

And you both slept well, nice and cozy in each other arms 🧡

[atimeofyourlife]

Go ahead, rip my heart out

Part 2 of the make it worse before it gets better (part 1 here | ao3)

rated: t | wc: 1283

There was a little bit of a whirlwind once they knew what was going on. Maddie was going to call Chimney while Eddie let Bobby know, and then the message would get passed on to Hen.

Bobby and Athena were the first to arrive, followed by Chimney, followed by Hen. It felt all too familiar, gathering together in a hospital waiting room sharing information while waiting for news on Buck.

"What even happened?" Hen asked, looking between Eddie and Maddie. "Have you called Tommy?"

Eddie sighed, hating that he was going to have to break the news. "Buck came over to mine last night after Tommy broke up with him. We split a six pack and he slept on my couch. When I woke up this morning he was having cardiac symptoms so I called for an ambulance and here we are."

"They're still doing testing but the doctors think it's broken heart syndrome." Maddie added.

"Is that even a real thing?" Athena asked after a beat of silence.

"The clinical name is takotsubo cardiomyopathy. It's a sudden weakening of a the heart muscle." Hen explained, sounding like she was repeating verbatim something she had read in a medical textbook when she was in medical school.

"Yeah." Maddie replied, nodding at Hen. "It's often caused by sudden physical or emotional stress. Like the loss of a loved one or a break up. That's why it's called broken heart syndrome."

read more below the cut or on ao3

Once Buck was done with the testing and was allowed visitors, Eddie, Maddie, and Bobby joined Buck to hear what the doctors had to say.

"The scans we have done are showing an enlargement of the left ventricle, which is the standard presentation of takotsubo cardiomyopathy. We're going to need to keep you in for a few days, for continued monitoring, but the outlook is good."

"What does it mean for work? I'm a firefighter." Buck asked, still sounding a little out of breath but nowhere near as bad as he had before Eddie had called 911.

"Well, you are going to be out for a while. Maybe on light duty behind a desk for a few months. But the majority of people recover to full health. The heart muscle usually heals within a month, and it's generally around two months for patients to get back to full health. We will continue monitoring, so you won't be able to return to full duty until you have received the all clear from us."

"What is the chance of recurrence?" Maddie asked, sounding a little worried.

"Recurrence is seen in the region of 4 to 10 percent of cases, and there is no solid way to guarantee prevention. But we recommend eating well, sleeping well, regular exercise. If you haven't already, maybe look into therapy to talk about the emotional stressors both on and off the job."

"I have been in therapy, but not for a while. I guess I need to call Doctor Copeland." Buck sighed. "What about complications?"

"That was going to be my next point. Complications are rare, but as a precaution we will be starting you on blood thinners, because of your history of blood clots. The complication we are most concerned about in your case is a blood clot in the heart wall."

"Great." Buck slumped back into his pillows, seeming defeated.

"I'll give you some time. A nurse will be in shortly with your medication." The doctor said, before leaving the room.

"Buck, as soon as you're cleared medically, you can come back. If you're still on blood thinners, it won't be a deal breaker. I won't make that same mistake again." Bobby assured him.

"It's not." Buck sighed. "It's just hitting all the greatest hits right now. Someone I love has left me again, god I've lost count of how many times that has happened. I'm back on blood thinners, like after my leg was crushed. Worried about my heart health, like after the lightning strike. I just can't help wondering what's next?"

--

Working without Buck felt strange. They were back on shift a couple of days after Buck had been admitted to the hospital, and everything just felt slightly off. Eddie knew that they all should be used to working down a man between all the injuries and health scares they'd accumulated over the years, or all the times personal reasons had kept them off the job, like the months he was working at dispatch as a liaison. Hell, they hadn't long had Bobby back at the head of the 118. But Buck, he was the glue that held their family together. Eddie had heard the stories from before he'd joined, before Buck had joined. People had been friends, but not family. It had been Buck's stubbornness and huge heart that had turned the station into a family.

And he couldn't help worrying. What if something else happened to Buck? Sure, Buck was in hospital, and it was the best place for him to be. And he was already responding to the treatment. But there was always that what if. Everyone else had told him that Buck would be okay, that the doctor had assured them that he would make a full recovery. But they hadn't seen him. Only Eddie had seen how he'd been that morning. How terrifying it had been to see his best friend in so much pain, not knowing what was going on.

The only thing keeping him going was knowing that Buck would never be alone for long. Even while they were on shift, there was a revolving cast of friends and family that would continue to check in on him. Maddie, Athena, Karen, Carla, Pepa, Josh, Linda, Sue. People that could stop by for a few minutes, others for a longer visit. Somewhat replicating what had happened when Buck was recovering from the lightning strike, but more to keep him company while he was in the hospital than having people constantly on his doorstep to check in without actually letting him rest.

--

It was a four alarm fire at an apartment complex near the end of shift. There were so many houses on scene, Eddie tried to focus on the job rather than trying to figure out who else was involved. He had noticed the 217 engine, and could only hope that Tommy was on air support. He wasn't ready to have that conversation. Hell, he wasn't sure he would be able to have that conversation without it turning to anger. What could he even say to the man who had just broken his best friend's heart so bad it had landed him in the hospital.

"Diaz." He was just packing down the equipment at the end when he was approached by one of the 133 paramedics. "How's Buckley doing?"

"Better. He's responding to treatment, still in hospital." Eddie replied.

"That's good to hear, we were pretty worried about him. Thought it could be some delayed reaction to the lightning."

"No. It- uh-it's a type of cardiomyopathy." Eddie said, choosing his words carefully. Not wanting to share too many details of Buck's health. "The doctor said he should make a full recovery within a few months."

"Nothing keeps you guys at the 118 down for long. Let him know we're all thinking about him."

"Will do, thanks man." Eddie nodded and the paramedic left to join the rest of the 133.

Eddie finished loading the equipment back into the engine, and made to get in, when he noticed Tommy standing a few feet away. He didn't want to acknowledge him, but Tommy beat him to it.

"Eddie," Tommy's voice sounded a little hoarse, a slightly distant look on his face. "Where's Evan?"

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Ruby: I feel like I need a can opener with you. It's like - ugh - aren't you frustrated?

Jaune: No I am.

Ruby: Well why aren't you showing it? And your semblance. You never get excited when it activates while we're training.

Jaune: It doesn't do anything. Doesn't last long. And only makes me glow.

Jaune: *internally* Fitting. If I would have had this power at Beacon I would have been just as useless for Pyrrha.

Ruby: *jabs him in the ribs past a gap in his armor she casually exploited*

Jaune: *hisses in pain*

Ruby: I heard that. You were thinking you were useless again. Weren't you Jaune.

Jaune: Fuck.

Ruby: I'm sure it does more than make you look good.

Jaune: *experiencing emotional whiplash*

Ruby: Well?

Jaune: Well to what in all of that?

Ruby: All of it!

Jaune: I'm just trying to stay on track and get you to Haven.

Ruby: Ugh.

Jaune: Huh. Is it something I said.

Ruby: *distinctly doesn't look impressed by that* Then what's it like? I forced you out here. To come with me to Haven and trek all the way across the world with me. Even though I had no idea how far that was.

Jaune: Ruby I did know how far it was. And I know if you hadn't...

If she hadn't what, exactly? He was trying to fight but it was hard. It was a little like Weiss had rubbed off on Ruby, in some of her best ways. He'd found that confidence and authority attractive before but when it was directed at me it was hard to fight.

What could he possibly tell her? That he needed her to tell him what to do and give his life direction?

She just told him how stressed she was. He couldn't add to that. He clicked my jaw in thought.

His teeth clacked together audibly.

Ruby: *looked from my eyes to his jaw. Like he just bit her hard* You shouldn't do that to yourself.

Jaune: That's what I mean. What would I do if I didn't have you right now? If you hadn't taken me in, I don't know where I would have gone.

Ruby: You would have found something.

No. His family. He stole this from them. He couldn't go back. And Nora and Ren they got in with like a scholarship for orphan hunters-to-be or something. They were homeless again. He thought they thought he'd abandon them.

Jaune: No. So, when you asked me to come it was just-it was a no-brainer. What would I have done? What alternatives would I have had? And if I hadn't gone with you, would I have found Pyrrha’s armor, even? Would I know for sure what happened? It was like destiny. And this is too.

Ruby: You really think so? *her hands fidget through her hair, somehow plucking at the red tips even out of the corner of her eye*

Jaune: Well no, it’s more like I need to make this the timeline where I succeed, but we can. You know?

Ruby: You think if we're smart and hardworking enough, it'll be enough? That's not like you.

Jaune: Ruby, this is just a setback. Even if it takes months. We have no timetable for getting to Haven. No tournament. No obvious target beyond the school and city which should be in a state of high alert.

Ruby: But what about your semblance? You and me. Are we making progress there?”

Jaune: We’ll have time to figure out how to use it.

Jaune: *internally* If it had a use.

Jaune: Tss. *He clutched a rib. She jabbed him again.*

Ruby: You and me. You butt.

Jaune: Us?

Ruby: What are we, Jaune? What am I to you?

Good question.

He thought about it. It wasn't like he could just say she was his partner because that had connotations to huntsmen. If he just blurted out, she was his new partner it would hurt everyone.

Besides, she had made it clear that Weiss was her best friend. Whatever that meant to her.

Jaune: You're my oldest friend for sure. Things are rough for me right now but it wasn't like I didn't think about you before, too.

Ruby: That's not fair. Pyrrha was…She made it clear she liked you a lot.

Ouch. But…

Jaune: You were so nice and sweet to me when I didn't deserve it. I could always count on you for advice and it was always good.

Ruby: I don't know…

Jaune: Even if it wasn't what I wanted to hear. So, it sounds dumb to say something like boyfriend, but you can if you want.

Ruby: We're a couple. You make things so complicated.

Jaune: The thing about that is-

Ruby: Do you love me?

Jaune: Uh, yeah.

She smiled, flushing, but she managed to roll her eyes and look right at him. For a moment he could hear nothing but the rain against the tent.

Ruby: Jaune I need you to better than 'uh yeah.' *she smiled adorably. It took him a second to realize she was teasing him. By the time he did so, his eyes flicked down to her lips and back up to her eyes. It was too late. Her smile roared across her face*

Ruby: You really want to kiss me, don't you? You can. You know. Maybe not all the time but you can kiss me.

Does so. He pushed her back against her thin mattress. He could feel her hip bone against my abdomen and the smooth curve of her sides. He put his hands around her back and pulled her in close to me and she let out a tiny sigh.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

[<==PREV PAGES] [NEXT PAGE==>(not out yet.wait a year.or maybe more.imagine.]

saw alot of comments on prev pages; saying 'i HATE that mean teacher! im gonna FIGHT HIM!!' & i LOVE the energy!! it WOULD be nice. to have that catharsis. but the story of young tidestrider is Not one of catharsis. it is a story of being so small and so special and sucking so bad.

[hauntingblue]

WATER SEVEN BABYYYYY

Look at robin reacting when luffy says he wont give her up.... 🥺🥺

This is a joke right now but its actually a one piece tenet aldjsisjka

Usopp aksbaksjakqk the foreshadow is foreshadowing... Also Robin being happy with the crew after the Aokiji incident... Fuck!!!!

Sanji thinking robin just vanished or flew away and suddenly usopp is soaring thru the skies... imagine

AAAAARGGGGHHHH YOU CAN SEE THE GEARS TURNING

Zoro talking to merry..... only while he is alone of course

Why are nami and sanji matching ajdhakjsk look at the citrus sisters

Carpenter: maybe it was the government

Gov agent: I don't think so, also don't say that they are everywhere

LUFFY SUPPORTS WOMEN'S WRONGS!!!

Don't scream att chopper like that!!! Look at him... So small....

Imu tease???? (No) (Also I've changed websites again bc the translation is kinda off , I can't find a good quality b&w spanish translation and the colors scare me (i want the real manga experience))

GET HIM ICEBURG!!!!

I truly forgor if this is just a lie about her wanting to find the rio poneglyphs or genuine because she wants to die and will do it for them... because in skypiea she says she is not interested in the weapons so maybe if the gov pardons her but considering what she wants is illegal then idk abdjabjs this is such a dumb thing to forget... like thats important girl where did it go (reading this after remembering and it's kinda funny... i will make any sacrifice to kill myself (and keep you safe)... she goes HARD)

Little paulie and mozu and kiwi.... omg hello (the SBS says the twins wanted to be shipwrights too omg)

Franky's backstory is small but it does so much for me like it is so central to the themes... boats and people...

DID SOMEBODY ORDER MORE TRAGIC BROTHERS?

The fact that franky needs to learn this lesson to pass it on to robin.... do you understand how big this is.... also Tom does exactly as he says and takes responsibility for franky and what he has done... because he has done nothing wrong AND THAT'S HIS SON and he just punched spandam bc he wanta him to feel the pain franky feels... Tom is such a man..... proud of having built eater 7 up with the sea train.... goes out with a boom.... should we all kill ourselves....

I am crying again................... franky my god.... and the fucking frog!!! And of course franky can't stop Tom's hope for his island... of course he can't.... he hasnt learnt the lesson yet but this guy isn't over yet!! He has a life of being a pervert cyborg ahead!!! Iceburg following Tom's footsteps but franky not being able to do that bc of his guilt....

This is one of the coolest things chopper has done btw...

NAMII 😭😭😭

Robin damning the world for her crew when all she has ever done is damn her companions for her own sake.... how big is this...

I can't take this...... it's always nami in these positions... it happens AGAIN in Zou with Sanji... there is no way

The love letter gag is too good like damn that's so funny

AND IT'S NAMI GOING THROUGH IT AGAIN!!!! SHE LOVES ROBIN SO MUCH!!!!

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

It is just me and my complicated relationship with c!Phil against the world.