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ir-abelas-vhenan · 22 hours ago

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Don't mind me, just revisiting the plot (again) and dying over this line (again). (These screenshots are going to be abysmal, but you'll get the point).

"To stop now would dishonor those I have wronged to come this far."

Yeah he's talking about Mythal (earned or not) and Felassan and Lavellan and Varric...but the way it applies to HIM, too, is what absolutely guts me.

Long post ahead...

Solas realizing that Lavellan doesn't care about how others see him or want to use him under the inquisiton, that HIS motivations as he has shared them are enough for her and worth defending against those who would tell him he's something he isn't. Solas, for the first time, being confronted with the realization that one these new elves he does not see himself in will still go to bat for him.

"You came here to help, Solas, I won't let them use that against you."

(Is he duplicitous? Yes. But intent on working against Corypheus? Undoubtedly).

“How would you stop them?”

“However I had to.”

“...thank you.”

Solas grappling with the fact that it wasn't just a one off, that this Dalish woman being faced with "hypotheticals" he's desperately been trying to get her people to entertain is jumping in head first, pushing back and disagreeing with him but never treating him worse for their differences and always admitting when he's helped shape a changing perspective. Solas daring to ask for help and marveling at the fact that he receives it, that the same woman who asked if it might some day be possible to live alongside spirits, who did not immediately shoot down his critique of THE CHANTRY REFUSING TO ACKNOWLEDGE SPIRITS AS LEGITIMATE BEINGS (GAH), who did not laugh at him for saying he preferred their company most days, this woman, is going to drop time and resources during war time preparations to personally help his friend.

And then, when he is too late and has once again failed someone he considers a friend, he disappears within himself, where he has always gone to exact punishment for the weight of the lives he believes he's betrayed. It almost works, too.

Psych. Lavellan doesn't want him to grieve alone, to stare at the place in the Fade where his friend used to be and think of all he should have done differently.

“The next time you have to mourn, you don’t need to be alone.”

“It’s been so long since I could trust someone.”

“I know.”

“I’ll work on it. And thank you.”

And still she unbalances him, accepts him, wants more. Solas is sharing a personality that brings him the closest he has ever been to his spirit form, and it is ENOUGH for her. Existing as he has always dreamt of is all takes to earn her loyalty, respect, and eventually love.

But does she stop there? No. She doesn't chafe at this random apostate who speaks with certainty and unapologetically delves into a past he believes worth preserving, even at the cost of questioning her culture as it currently stands.

The very woman he once thought of as a mistake that HE unleashed upon the world is asking to be a part of his, not because of what he can bring to the table, not because she needs a right hand man, and certainly not because she thinks he has some well of power and intelligence critical to winning over enemies she’s willing to join for "supervisory" purposes (cough cough hi Mythal). She bears the weight of choices that can and will lead to death, to pain, and when it wears on her she relies on him, not for solutions but so that at the end of it all she might smile with someone who knows her heart and the good she tried to do amidst a sea of terrible options. She wants to be known, no inch of her unturned, and worse, she thinks she knows him. But how could she? This is no longer who he is, it is merely the remnants of what he destroyed to make a world at Mythal's whim.

“You’re an admirable man. Not many people know who they are the way you do.”

“Thank you. Both for saying that and…for seeing that. Few in this world can see me instead of just seeing a pair of pointed ears”

She. Sees. Him. Every part he slowly is realizing he wants to be known for and even a few he thought he could hide. And then he gives it all up. Because he woke to a new world where spirits and elves and mages were so far removed from the role they played in Arlathan that it can only be yet another mistake he caused and must fix, never mind the fact that the dwarves have forgotten why they fled underground millennia ago in the first place.

The friend who tore him from the world he loved, urged him to take physical form? She is dead, too, never mind the fact that she ignored his urging for a different path, nevermind that he killed and tore and hurt in her name because otherwise what was losing the part of himself he loved for?

"A spirit becomes a demon when denied its original purpose.”

“It hurts. It always does, but I will survive.”

“You bound it to obedience, then commanded it to kill. That is when it turned.”

He may no longer recognize where the Dread Wolf ends and where Solas begins, but if he gives up now and permits himself the chance to remember, the pain he caused himself and others means nothing, because he did it all for Mythal and in his final discussion with her, regardless of what Veilguard tries to convey, she does not release him from his position as her agent.

And maybe that's part of why I'm so angry, because EVEN BEFORE TRESPASSER, the fragment of Mythal that ends up in Morrigan could have freed him, but she does not.

"I am sorry." He whispers.

"The failure was mine," he tells her, voice trembling. "I should pay the price."

Silence.

And do we get that "what we did, we did together" psuedo-fake ass-absolution, the one that, if given enough time and safety to put himself first he may have realised he doesn't truly need to pursue the things he deserves, that make him feel finally like himself again? No the fuck we don't.

"As am I, old friend." She murmurs.

Looking through the lens of Veilguard, this isn't an apology, it's a condemnation. It's Mythal tormenting him one more time, twisting the knife deeper, agreeing that it is Solas alone who has brought them to this point, who deserves to be punished. And then she reminds him what they are to each other, what he is supposed to be to her. What he must become again.

"It isn't abuse if I ask," Cole says in his personal quest.

"Not always true," Solas shoots back.

So he recommits to the friend he gave up his nature for, he refuses to let himself remember that Lavellan learned the full truth of his identity and still begged him not to mourn alone. Even so, he still cannot quite forget.

Var lath vir suledin. Our love will persevere.

I wish it could, vhenan.

And so he pushes onwards, spending almost a decade denying himself his true nature and regretting that he ever gave it a chance to come through because now he KNOWS that this world is different and a little broken, but it's a world he could be a part of because of the woman and the friends that made a place for him. It is a world that doesn't necessarily need to be restored as much as it might need renovation, but that is not the world Mythal demanded of him when she let him kill a remaining piece of her. And any solution but that means the hurt of taking a body, of hurting the titans, of time and time again being called on by one evanuris to fix a problem they all caused, was for nothing.

And a Pride of that magnitude, that sinister an origin, has a long, long way to fall.

And then that same uppity little shit has the audacity to tell him it's not too late, that he can turn back.

He kills again. He kills again. He kills again.

He kills a friend.

He fails to prevent the Evanuris from wreaking havoc a second time, wrenches another innocent into his war, and when they ask him about the woman he calls vhenan, he feels the mask stifling him begin to suffocate. But he never lets it fall, because to surrender now is to place her broken heart atop the pile of regrets he's been holding up like Atlas crumbling beneath the weight of the world itself. Because he still thinks it selfish to want the things that make him feel like himself again, so they need to be taken off the board entirely.

"To stop now would dishonor those I have wronged to come this far."

If he gives up now, his entire corporeal life has been a betrayal of many, but worst of all, he will have ruined himself for nothing.

But then she's there. A little older, a little sadder, and still looking at him like she did the night he almost broke and instead carefully removed any suggestion that she had ever belonged to anyone but herself.

"Didn't you hear me?" Her every action screams as she kneels to meet his gaze like he did the day he took her arm (another failure, another sacrifice he cannot let be for nothing).

The tombstone in the fade is his greatest fear, but it is not his fate. Why? She will not let it be. It cannot be his din'anshiral if she is not beside him.

Lavellan may not have understood the depth of exactly WHEN Solas first came somewhere foreign and uncertain to help, but she never once failed to keep her promise. She refuses to let his initial desire to do good be held against him any longer. And when she sees him accept that not-quite-absolution-definitely-more-of-a-power-play from the god that saw what he was capable of and molded him into a weapon, she finds her in to make sure he doesn't walk off alone to mourn again, never again will she lose him to the expectations others have of him. No doubt she wants to find a way to sink the fingers of her good hand into that spectral visage and tear it away like he wishes to do to the veil. But she is not here for Mythal. She is here for her heart, and for the man who has been carrying it since the moment her lips met his in the fade ten years ago.

“No orders to kill, no conflict with its nature, no demon.”

She forces him to see that the only remaining betrayal is to lock himself away one more irreversible time. All that's left to lose is the piece of himself he cherishes more than his greatest victories: all that he has to gain comes from making sure the love that was given to him at Skyhold, in the moment where Varric saw all he was capable of and still tried to bring him back home, was not given in vain.

"There is no fate but the love we share." She tells him as soon as Mythal's too-little-too-late platitudes send shudders through his body.

Banal nadas ar lath'ma vhenan.

It will not be so terrible a place, so unforgivable a betrayal if he can finally dare to put himself first. If, unlike that night in Crestwood, he finally gives in not to break, but to make himself whole.

There's a codex entry in Inquisiton about a spirit of wisdom who is summoned by researchers and only after a very pleasant conversation do they realize they made a mistake and never successfully bound the spirit in the first place, that it chose to speak with them of its own accord.

"I am not certain the spirit would have talked so freely had it been shackled at the time," writes the author of the entry.

I keep thinking about this alongside the datamined line of Morrigan saying, "And so, the Dread Wolf is stopped by, of all things love."

But that isn't quite right, is it?

Because in the end, of course the Dread Wolf could only ever freed by, over everything, love.

#solavellan #solas x lavellan #solas dragon age #lavellan #inquisitor lavellan #dragon age inquisiton #dragon age #dragon age veilguard #dragon age the veilguard #datv #datv spoilers #dragon age veilguard spoilers #veilguard spoilers #mythal #fen'harel #dread wolf #cole dragon age #varric tethras #veilguard

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littlelamy · 3 days ago

Note

Request hehe: Maybe Reader has some trust issues due to past cheating etc. So she is constantly doubting If Rafe is doing something behind her back and it’s damaging their relationship/Rafe is feeling very offended that she could ever think that and leaves very upset. So some self-sabotage on her part.

a/n: thank you so much for requesting!! 💗 pngs from @saizun

the tension in the room was as palpable as the crisp autumn air seeping through the edges of rafe's window. you stood by the edge of the bed, arms crossed, while rafe paced near the door, his brows furrowed and lips drawn tight. it wasn’t the first time you’d found yourself in this situation—accusations hanging in the air like a storm cloud.

“i just don’t get why you think i’m lying to you,” rafe finally said, running a hand through his messy blond hair. his voice was raw, teetering between frustration and sadness. “what did i do this time?”

the pang of guilt that shot through you was immediate, but it was quickly overshadowed by the relentless doubt that had been gnawing at you for weeks.

“i don’t know, rafe,” you muttered, staring down at your hands. “you’re just… too good to be true sometimes. i mean, look at you.” you gestured vaguely at his tall, athletic frame, the way he looked even in a simple t-shirt and jeans. “how do i know you’re not out there talking to someone else? everyone likes you.”

he stopped pacing, standing still for a moment as your words sank in.

“you think just because people like me, i’d cheat on you?” his voice was quiet, but it carried a weight that made you wince.

“it’s not like that—”

“then what is it like, y/n?” he interrupted, his tone sharp now. he stepped closer, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours. “because this isn’t the first time we’ve had this conversation. you keep accusing me of something i’m not doing, and it’s…” he exhaled shakily, taking a step back. “it’s killing me, honestly.”

the tears you’d been holding back began to sting your eyes. you hated how this always ended—with you feeling like the villain and rafe looking at you like you’d just run over his dog.

“it’s not about you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “it’s about me. i’ve been through this before, rafe. i’ve trusted someone before, and they… they betrayed me.”

“and i’m paying for what someone else did?” his voice cracked, and he shook his head in disbelief. “do you even hear yourself?”

you stayed silent, your chest tightening with every second that passed.

rafe let out a bitter laugh, running his hands over his face. “do you really think i’m that kind of person? that after everything we’ve been through, i’d just—what? throw it all away for someone else?”

“i don’t know!” you blurted out, tears finally spilling over. “i don’t know what to believe anymore. i want to trust you, rafe, but it’s so hard. every time you’re late, every time you get a text and don’t tell me who it’s from, my mind goes to the worst place.”

“that’s not fair,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “you don’t even give me the benefit of the doubt. you don’t even try to trust me.”

you wiped at your tears angrily, hating how vulnerable you felt. “maybe i don’t know how,” you admitted, your voice breaking.

rafe stared at you for a long moment, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he fought to keep his composure.

“i can’t do this,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

your heart sank. “what do you mean?”

“i can’t keep proving myself to you when i’ve done nothing wrong,” he said, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “i love you, y/n. i love you so much it hurts, but this?” he gestured between the two of you. “this is tearing me apart.”

you took a step toward him, panic rising in your chest. “rafe, please. i’m sorry. i’ll work on it, i promise. just don’t… don’t leave.”

but he shook his head, his expression a mixture of sadness and resolve. “i need some time to think,” he said, his voice trembling. “i can’t keep feeling like i’m not enough for you when i’ve given you everything i have.”

he turned and walked out the door, leaving you standing there in stunned silence. the sound of the front door closing echoed through the house, and you collapsed onto the bed, sobbing into your hands.

you had pushed him away. the one person who had always been there for you, who had loved you despite your flaws, was gone—and it was your fault.

the days that followed were a blur. you went through the motions of life, but everything felt hollow without rafe. he didn’t call, didn’t text, and the silence was deafening. you wanted to reach out, to beg for his forgiveness, but every time you picked up your phone, the shame stopped you.

instead, you spent your time reflecting on the mess you’d made. you thought about the way you’d let your past dictate your present, how you’d let your insecurities poison something good.

you thought about rafe’s face the last time you saw him—the hurt in his eyes, the way his voice broke when he said he loved you.

you loved him too. you always had. but you’d let your fear overshadow that love, and now you were paying the price.

a week later, you found yourself standing outside rafe’s house, your heart pounding in your chest. you’d rehearsed what you wanted to say a million times, but now that you were here, your mind was blank.

taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door.

it opened a moment later, and there he was—rafe, looking as handsome as ever despite the tiredness in his eyes.

“y/n,” he said, his voice soft but guarded.

“hi,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “can i come in?”

he hesitated for a moment before stepping aside to let you in. you walked into the living room, the familiar space feeling foreign without the warmth you were used to.

“i’m sorry for just showing up,” you said, turning to face him. “i just… i needed to see you.”

he nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. “what do you want, y/n?”

“i want to fix this,” you said, your voice trembling. “i want to fix us.”

rafe let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “you can’t just say that and expect everything to go back to normal.”

“i know,” you said quickly. “i know i’ve hurt you, and i hate myself for it. but i’ve spent the last week thinking about everything, and i realized… i’ve been so unfair to you, rafe. i let my past ruin what we had, and i’m so sorry.”

he looked at you, his expression unreadable. “do you even trust me?”

“yes,” you said without hesitation. “or… i want to. i know i’ve given you every reason to think i don’t, but i do, rafe. i trust you more than anyone. i’m just scared. scared of losing you, scared of getting hurt again.”

“you’re not the only one who’s scared,” he said, his voice softening. “do you know how it feels to love someone who’s always waiting for you to screw up? to feel like no matter what you do, it’s never going to be enough?”

tears welled up in your eyes, and you stepped closer to him. “i’m so sorry, rafe,” you whispered. “i never meant to make you feel that way. you are enough—more than enough. and i don’t want to lose you because i couldn’t get out of my own head.”

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “i don’t know, y/n. i don’t know if i can keep doing this.”

“please,” you said, your voice breaking. “i’ll do better. i’ll prove to you that i can be better, that i can trust you the way you deserve to be trusted.”

he studied your face, his blue eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt.

“i love you,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “but this has to change. i can’t keep living like this.”

“it will,” you promised, stepping closer and taking his hands in yours. “i’ll change. i’ll prove to you that i can be better.”

he sighed but didn’t pull away from you. “this is your last chance, y/n,” he said quietly. “i mean it.”

“i won’t waste it,” you promised, looking up at him.

for a moment, there was nothing but silence between you, the tension thick and heavy. then, slowly, rafe’s hands moved to cup your face.

“don’t make me regret this,” he murmured, his voice soft and raw.

“i won’t,” you whispered, your breath hitching as he leaned down.

his lips met yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender, a silent promise of forgiveness and hope. you clung to him, pouring every ounce of your love and regret into the kiss, vowing to yourself that this time, you would get it right.

when he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed.

“i love you, baby,” he said again, his voice steady this time.

“i love you too,” you whispered, your heart swelling with both relief and determination.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl l @evermorx89 @aariahnaa @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog

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bbkoolkatz · 3 days ago

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part 2 prof! Izuku part 1 here

synopsis: after a series of ignored apologies, you accepted (kinda) what's happened and decided to finally respond... then months go by and you've gotten over him... you think...

pairing: professor! Izuku Midoriya x student! reader. college AU

cw: angst to fluff! by not so popular demand lol! just pretend that y'all had conversations in between or something, before the party message.

blurb word count: 800+

now gimme your souls! *evil laughs* (there are three outfit photos so u can choose from them)

people were packed in the campus auditorium, sounds of murmuring and the bass of the music slightly overwhelming your ears. your friends spotted you standing alone, becoming one with the wall behind you and scuttled over offering you a drink to sip on while they chatted. they went on about, the course, how difficult finals we're, all the months of stress and boring lectures. you added to their complaints here and there, making light conversation that you didn't really pay attention to, as your eyes drifted around.

you vaguely pay attention to them raving about how great everyone's looking, how surprised they were that they passed, etc etc. and then, he walked in... tall, slim, neatly tousled green hair that exposed his forehead, dressed in a dark green shirt one size too small, squeezing his forearms at the point where he rolled them up, and black slacks, accessoried with an all might buckled belt, that held it to his waist.

might not have been much to him, but to you... it was fucking runway worthy... and you froze, the sight of him bringing back that fuzzy feeling in the pit of your stomach. the buffet table was suddenly the most interesting thing in the room as you averted your eyes from your, former professor.

"hey there," he greeted, walking up behind you.

you slowly turned around, and was soon face to face with that signature, irresistible smile of his, you tried looking away from his almost perfect lips and your eyes landed on his... big mistake... but oh how they looked like emerald gems being held hostage behind glass frames, sparkling with the flashing lights of the party.

"is something wrong?" he asked tilting his head to the side before looking over himself.

"oh! uh- no!" you awkwardly reassured. god you wanted gouge your eyes out right now... "I was starting to think you weren't gonna show," you teased, offering a small smile.

"yeah," he chuckled, "i actually wasn't sure either, but I thought it'd be nice to see y- everyone, one last time." he continued, rubbing the back of his neck.

"everyone seems so different out of the classroom huh?" was your attempt at small talk. and you mentally slapped yourself across the face.

"I was thinking the same thing!" he beamed, "it's nice to see you- all! having some fun. it's well deserved." he fiddled with his wristwatch, then with the ends of his shirt on his forearms.

"I'm sorry, parties aren't really my thing..." he admitted, breaking into a nervous sweat and you rested a hand on his to stop his fiddling.

"did you save me that dance... professor?" you chuckled, nodding toward the dancefloor where people had started to gather.

"Izuku," he corrected, "i'm not your professor anymore..." and he took your hand in his, leading you to the center of the dancefloor, weaving through te crowd of people. you've never slow danced before, but by God, at the moment all you wanted was too feel his body heat, as you swayed to whatever song the DJ decided to play.

the people around you paired up, hugging each other close as the music started, and you both followed them. you take initiative, stepping forward to rest your right hand on his shoulder and your left a little lower down his arm.

he hesitated for second, hand hovering over the curve of your waist, "i-is this okay?" he asked, ever the gentleman and.

"more than okay." you mumbled, the warmth of his palms resting awkwardly on your waist, quietly pulled you in as you began to sway in each other's arms.

the dance progressed, and the awkwardness that was there earlier, was nowhere to be seen. it felt as if your bodies were moving in perfect sync, your steps following his, as you closed your eyes and rested your head on his chest, he moved his other hand to rest lower down your back keeping you there.

for a long moment you were standing there, his scarred arms holding you close to him like he didn't want to let go. not that you were complaining... but the music had been changed to something else... more upbeat to bring life back to the party.

"thank you." you smiled and you could hear his heart rate pick up.

"was that good enough?" he whispered, rubbing circles on your back with his thumb. and you nodded against his chest. you stood there for a singular moment longer, before–

"well, i better go say hi to everyone else!" he said, reverting to his awkward state, "don't let me stop you from enjoying yourself!" and he was still holding your right hand in his.

"right," you exhaled, as he let go and you were heading off to grab another drink. "see ya around, Izuku."

"yeah," he chuckled, yet again awkwardly scratching the back of his head, "see ya around."

mlist!

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pandapetals · 1 day ago

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Couple Questions

You and Logan answer some cute couple questions!

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, your an english professor, logan is a history professor

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

a/n: not the usual update but I saw some couple questions on pinterest and thought you know what…im gonna do this because it’s cute. i may or may not also have headcanons for them lol.

What were your first impressions of each other?

You : grinning "I thought he was rude. He barely said hello when I first arrived at the mansion, just mumbled something and walked away like I wasn’t worth his time."

Logan : smirking "To be fair, I had a lot on my mind."

You : "But then I caught him staring at me in the library one day, and I thought, ‘Huh, maybe he’s not as grumpy as he looks.’ Turns out I was wrong—he’s grumpier.” teasingly nudges him

Logan : chuckling "You done? ‘Cause my first impression was that you talked too much."

You : mock gasp "Excuse me?!"

Logan : shrugging "But you had this fire about you. Didn’t take crap from anyone. Thought that was… different." pauses, his voice softening "And your laugh. First time I heard it, I couldn’t get it outta my head."

Describe the moment each of you knew you had feelings for each other.

You : thoughtful smile "I think it was when Jean told me Logan liked me. It just… clicked. All the banter, the little glances, the way he’d hover nearby even though he pretended not to care—it all made sense. Once I realized it, it was like… yeah, I like him too. It was terrifying and exciting at the same time."

Logan : scratching the back of his neck, pretending to look annoyed "She’s makin’ me sound soft already."

You : "You are soft."

Logan : ignoring her "For me, it was probably when I realized she wasn’t offended by my attitude. That’s when I knew she wasn’t just anyone. She was my someone."

Did either of you fight your feelings, or was it easy to accept?

You : snorting "Oh, we both fought it. He avoided me a lot of the time. I overthought everything —does he like me? What if I’m imagining it? What if I ruin our friendship?"

Logan : dryly "You do think too much. Me? I didn’t avoid you."

You : glaring playfully "You literally avoided the library for two weeks, and that’s your favorite place!"

Logan : grinning faintly "Alright, fine. Maybe I fought it a little. Was scared I’d mess things up. Didn’t think someone like you would want someone like me."

You : softly, brushing his hand "You’re an idiot for thinking that, but you’re my idiot."

When was the first time you said “I love you”? What prompted it?

You : "It was after a nightmare. Logan woke up in a cold sweat, muttering apologies for scaring me. But he hadn’t scared me—I just wanted to comfort him. And in the middle of me rambling about how it was okay, it just came out: ‘I love you.’"

Logan : quietly "Didn’t think I’d ever hear those words from someone. But when she said it, I couldn’t stop myself. Told her I loved her right back."

You : smiling softly "And then you called me a ‘damn fool’ for putting up with you."

Logan : shrugging "I stand by it."

Who is the big spoon, who is the little spoon?

You : "Oh, Logan’s the big spoon, obviously. But sometimes I’ll be the big spoon when he’s had a rough day. He pretends to hate it, but I know he secretly likes it."

Logan : grumbling "I don’t need a damn cocoon, sweetheart."

You : grinning "But you still let me."

What’s your favorite quality about each other?

You : "Logan’s loyalty. He’ll protect the people he loves with everything he has, even when he doesn’t think he deserves to be loved back."

Logan : looking at her, his voice softer "Her heart. She’s got this way of makin’ everyone feel like they matter. Like they’re worth somethin’. That’s rare."

You : teasingly "Stop, you’re gonna make me cry."

Logan : smirking "Good. Payback for all the times you make me feel stuff."

Who is the messiest?

You : raising her hand immediately "Me. Absolutely me."

Logan : snorting "Finally, somethin’ we agree on."

You : "Hey, at least I know where everything is in my mess. Your ‘organized’ piles confuse me."

Logan : "It ain’t hard, darlin’. One pile’s for weapons, the other’s for books. What’s so confusin’?"

Who sings in the shower?

You : grinning mischievously "Logan does. And he doesn’t even realize it half the time. It’s adorable."

Logan : deadpan "I don’t sing in the shower."

You : "Oh, so the other day when I walked by and heard you mumbling ‘Sweet Caroline’ under your breath, that wasn’t you?"

Logan : grumbling "I was hummin’ it. There’s a difference."

You : sarcastically "Sure, tough guy. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Who likes horror movies? Who likes romance movies?

You : grinning "Logan likes horror movies, obviously. He’ll sit there, all serious, like nothing phases him. But I swear I caught him flinch once during The Exorcist ."

Logan : gruffly "Did not."

You : "You did. Anyway, I like romance movies. Logan pretends to hate them, but he always ends up watching them with me."

Logan : smirking "That’s ‘cause I know you’ll cry, and I gotta be ready to hand you tissues."

You : rolling her eyes "And yet, who was tearing up during The Notebook last week? Hmm?"

Logan : groaning "Alright, fine. I might like some of ‘em. But don’t go tellin’ anyone."

You : "Oh, your secret’s safe with me. But I’ll totally remind you next time we watch Pride and Prejudice ."

Logan : grinning, pulling her closer "You’re somethin’ else, sweetheart."

What’s your favorite memory of us?

You:thoughtfully smiling “That’s hard to pick. But… I think it was when you planned that romantic getaway for my birthday—you bought me that dress. Or when you wrote that for me poem and gave it to me for Christmas.”

Logan:grinning faintly “You mean the one where you cried ‘cause I wrote you that little poem in the book?”

You:mock gasping “You wrote me a poem , Logan. Of course, I cried! I still have that dress, by the way.”

Logan:chuckling, his voice softer now “That was a good one. But for me? I think it’s our wedding. Just you, me, and those vows I wrote on a scrap of paper. You called me an idiot for cryin’ halfway through.”

You:sniffing dramatically “And I’ll call you an idiot for it again, but only because you cried first. You set me off.”

Logan:smirking “You weren’t even gonna cry ‘til I pulled out that damn lucky pen you gave me.”

You:“Well, yeah, it’s our lucky pen, Logan! What did you expect?”

Hugs or kisses?

You:grinning slyly “Kisses. Definitely kisses.”

Logan:raising an eyebrow “Really? I’d say hugs.”

You:blinking in mock surprise “Logan Howlett likes hugs? Who are you and what have you done with my husband?”

Logan:shrugging, smirking a little “What can I say? There’s somethin’ about you wrappin’ yourself around me that just feels right.”

You:melting a little before recovering quickly “Okay, you win that one. But kisses still come with extra perks.”

Logan:grinning wickedly “Oh, I know.”

Who finds it harder to admit they’re wrong?

You:“Oh, Logan. 100% Logan.”

Logan:gruffly “What? That’s not true.”

You:glaring playfully “Logan, you once argued with me for three hours about the best way to cook eggs—only to realize you were wrong and never admit it.”

Logan:grumbling “That’s ‘cause your way still doesn’t make sense.”

You:crossing her arms “Oh, it makes perfect sense, tough guy. You’re just stubborn.”

Logan:grinning faintly “Alright, fine. Maybe I don’t like bein’ wrong.”

You:“Maybe?!”

Who’s the boss in the marriage?

You:smirking, pointing to herself “Obviously me.”

Logan:laughing softly “Yeah, you think so, huh?”

You:“Logan, who does the meal planning? The laundry schedules? Who makes sure you actually remember birthdays and anniversaries?”

Logan:grinning “Alright, you. But who fixes stuff when it breaks? Who makes sure no one bothers you when you’re havin’ a bad day? Who makes the coffee in the mornin’ exactly how you like it?”

You:softening, smiling sweetly “Alright, fine. We’re both the boss in different ways. But let’s be honest—when it comes to arguments, you fold first.”

Logan:mock scowling “Only ‘cause you give me those damn eyes. Ain’t fair.”

Who has the best jokes?

You:grinning smugly “Me. Hands down.”

Logan:snorting “Yeah, okay. But only ‘cause your jokes are so bad, they’re funny.”

You:“Excuse me?!”

Logan:grinning “Sweetheart, half your jokes are puns. Don’t get me wrong, I love seein’ you crack yourself up, but best jokes? Nah.”

You:frowning in mock offense “Fine, then let’s hear one of your so-called ‘good’ jokes.”

Logan:deadpan “Why’d the history book break up with the science book? No chemistry.”

You:blinking, then laughing despite herself “Okay, that was actually pretty good. Damn it.”

Who is grumpier?

You:“Oh, Logan. No contest.”

Logan:shrugging, unbothered “Yeah, probably.”

You:giggling “You’re basically a walking thundercloud until you’ve had your coffee. And even then, you’ve got about an hour before you start growling at people.”

Logan:smirking “That’s true, but you’re no ray of sunshine when you’re hungry.”

Who gets angry when they’re hungry?

You:immediately “Okay, fine. That’s me. But in my defense, you always know when to feed me before I get too hangry.”

Logan:chuckling “Damn right I do. Learned that the hard way on one of our first dates.”

You:giggling “Oh, you mean the time you forgot to feed me after making me hike five miles, and I almost bit your head off?”

Logan:grinning “Yup. You didn’t even wait for the food to hit the table before tearin’ into me. Thought I was gonna lose a hand.”

You:grinning sheepishly “Hey, at least you didn’t run for the hills.”

Logan:softly, leaning closer “Nah, sweetheart. I’d take your hangry self over anyone else any day.”

#logan howlett #wolverine #fluff #x men logan #x men wolverine #james logan howlett #marvel #hugh jackman #professor logan #professor logan howlett #x men movies #days of future past #professor reader #logan howlett fluff

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lemon-berri · 3 days ago

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A Side That Only You Get to See

Most people know Satoru Gojo as the strongest sorcerer. A formidable force, renowned for his power. Respected by sorcerers and feared by curses and curse users alike. To those who do not know him, he's paramount to a legend. Untouchable. Unreachable.

While the people who work closely with him know another side. The irreverent, goofy sorcerer who fools around on the job and plays pranks on his colleagues. They're all too familiar with his boisterous laugh and unconventional ways. And while his students still respect him, they're comfortable around him like they might be with a friend, or a family member.

That's who he is. A warm personality that lights up a room. Someone who cares deeply for those around him, even if his ways of showing it are unusual. Someone who wants to improve the world around him.

But nobody knows the Gojo you do.

The one who comes home in the early hours of the morning, just to rest in his partners arms. Who's sometimes late to work because he cannot bring himself to let you go. He's enraptured by your touch, lulled into peace by your scent. He's quiet at home, a stark contrast to his usual personality. But he prefers to bask in your presence, to listen to your voice as you tell him about your day, or whatever new interest you've picked up.

The sorcerer who comes home from missions a day early without telling anyone so he can steal some more time with the one he loves. Who plans elaborate surprises, cooks for you and buys you a fresh bouquet every week. He prefers a quiet night at home rather than going out. That way he gets more of your attention.

The Gojo who's easily bored, because he's naturally good at everything, but still takes part in your hobbies and interests. He lets you teach him things he already knows, and sometimes pretends to mess up just so he can see the passion in your eyes as you explain where he went wrong. His cerulean eyes light up whenever you show him something you've created, and he'll buy you all the supplies you need, if only to see that smile.

Your Satoru, who's love language is physical touch. Who, before meeting you, had kept a barrier between himself and the rest of the world for so long that he'd become afraid to let it down. Who now clings onto you whenever you're home. He gets pouty if you're in sight but not touching him - so make sure to pay extra attention to his facial expressions.

Truly, if anyone else saw him like this he wouldn't care. He's not ashamed to show the world how much he loves you. But a part of him likes the way things are. Its like a secret, between just the two of you. As if your home exists in a world of its own, away from all the curses and higher ups and daily stress. So for now, he'll save his soft side, just for you. A side that only you get to see.

Soooooo I sorta went MIA for a few weeks.. but as we already established I do not have a post schedule so it's okay (right?).

Thank you guys for reading this! As usual it's not proofread and if you point out my spelling mistakes I'll leave and never come back.

Ily all 🩵

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #fluffy fluff #the fluffiest #my glorious blue eyed king #gojo x reader fluff #jjk x reader #soft gojo #gojo satoru x reader #i love him

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fuctacles · 3 days ago

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<< 12 | 0 | 14 >>

There's thunderous knocking on the door and it startles Eddie out of his sleep.

He needs a moment to readjust, but Robin isn't the type to give anyone even a second, so his brain catches something about a nut before it's quiet again. He blinks at the white ceiling above him.

"What."

"She said she's gonna grab some bread and doughnuts from the bakery," Steve murmurs next to him so he turns his head, suddenly remembering that he's in his friend's bed, and it's the day of their little party.

He immediately snatches his gaze back up.

"Why the fuck are you naked?!"

"Huh? Oh, sorry," Steve rolls in the sheets to cover up some of his body. He doesn't sound very sorry. "Must have shifted in my sleep."

Eddie eyes him with curiosity.

"You weren't naked last time."

"Huh?"

Steve lays on his side to listen to him, and with his bare chest and tousled hair, he looks way too relaxed for the circumstances. It is his bed, duh, but he's looking at Eddie all naked and sleepy and it feels... not wrong per se, but it makes his stomach churn in a new way.

"When you slept over at the trailer, you had clothes."

"Oh," Steve frowns, trying to remember that day. "I guess I changed to use the bathroom and didn't bother turning back."

Eddie raises his eyebrows.

"So you draw the line of doghood at peeing outside?"

"Don't call it doghood," Steve scrunches his nose in distaste. "I couldn't open the front door with my paws anyway. Otherwise, I do pee in Dinkleberg's garden quite often," he admits.

"No way," Eddie grins at the information. "Do you shit outside too?"

Steve makes a face.

"I did once. It felt too weird not being able to wipe, but his face was worth it."

Eddie bursts out laughing.

"You're so gross, man!" he says, pushing at Steve's shoulders so he loses his balance and falls against the pillows.

"You asked!"

"What if we—" a snort interrupts him and he falls forward, pressing his temple against his friend to find his bearings. "We can install a pet door for you? Wait, no, you're kinda big for that. If I wrap some rope against the handle, could you open it? I have a neighbor who really deserves some urine in his slippers."

Steve groans, pushing Eddie away.

"Well, who's being gross now?"

"I'm still not the one who shits in my neighbor's yard!" Eddie protests, but Steve is already leaving the bed with an indignant huff, and his body is suddenly on full display. "Dude!" he squawks, shielding his gaze from his friend's naked butt.

"Oh come on, we have the same parts!" Steve turns to him, but his dick moves along, making Eddie disappear under the covers.

"It's not about the parts, It's about human decency!"

"Well, I'm not fully human, so..." Steve points out, but it does sound like he's opening his wardrobe. "And I walk around naked all the time."

Eddie thinks about it for a second.

"Well, yeah, but then you're not—"

He cuts himself off.

But then you're not attractive.

"I'm not what?"

In his scramble for a comprehensive answer, Eddie escapes the confines of bed covers, hoping he'll provide more oxygen for his brain this way. But with his terrible timing, he emerges at the perfect moment to catch Steve's naked, bent-over ass just before it gets covered by a pair of boxers.

Lord have mercy.

"Not human," he finishes lamely, all coherent thoughts suddenly gone.

Steve scoffs, turning around with his dick finally out of sight.

"Yeah, I'm not," he agrees easily, way too easily, before grabbing a pair of jean shorts. "You can take whatever you want to wear," he motions to the open closet, already walking towards the door.

"And for the record, I didn't shit in Dinkleberg's yard, I did it on his doormat," he adds before leaving the room, leaving Eddie to stare at where he disappeared.

====

Eddie's glad their mismatched group includes people who know the basics of barbequing and he doesn't have to get involved. There's also the card of "I helped with preparations so fuck off" that he can pull anytime anyone gives him the stink eye. This way, he can keep his distance and just observe. His scheming seems to be paying off and the seeds he planted in the little goblins and the dog-man himself, had taken root.

Steve sits on the warmed ground while Robin's hand is in his hair, and El feeds him whatever she didn't like from her skewer. He's heard Dustin praise the burgers. Dustin. Everyone has been contributing to making Steve feel more appreciated, either with words, physical touch, or even small gestures, like Max bringing him an extra Coke from the cooler.

So that was all great. But among his observing, Eddie notices some new things too.

Like Steve's hairy chest. How his muscles move with each movement and how he absentmindedly rubs on his scars. The way the moles on his cheek jump when he smiles and his shorts fill out when he bends.

Has it always been there?

Or more importantly, has Eddie always been interested in his friend?

He'd entertained the idea of fancying men ages ago but shoved it aside at the way easier, less problematic prospect of women, their tiny skirts, and the wild rocker chicks. So the gay thing isn't the scariest part, but rather the fact that he wasn't aware.

Now he can't help but think that his whole 'helping a friend out' thing had ulterior motives behind it, conceived deep in his subconscience. Getting closer to Steve, spending time with him, touching him, oh god he's been touching him so much. He'd look at his hands in betrayal if he wasn't holding food.

He takes a bite out of his hot dog but finds it cold and dry, which makes him wonder how long he's been people-watching instead of interacting with his friends like a normal human being. When he looks up again, he meets Steve's gaze and suddenly realizes he's making very unattractive open-mouthed movements with his jaw. Eddie clicks his mouth shut and forces himself to swallow, but thankfully, Steve seems to find it more amusing than disgusting.

Not that it would matter if Steve found him unattractive and repulsive or anything.

Tags: @noodle-shenaniganery @jaytriesstrangerthings @imaginary-maggie-waggie @samsoble @croatoan-like-its-hot

@dragonmama76 @storyranger @scoops-aboy86 @ollyxar @estrellami-1

@stevesworldxx @ajeff855 @live-laugh-love-dietrich @thelittleclare @wheneverfeasible

@bumblebeecuttlefishes @blasvemous @phatomcat94 @n33dlew0rk @manliest-of-muppets

@ravenfrog

#wereshifter au #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #mine #steddie fanfiction #shapeshifter steve harrington #werewolf steve harrington

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marauder-misprint · 2 days ago

Text

People watching

Part 1 Part 2

Sirius Black x Fem!Slytherin!reader

1.3k words

cw: fluff

There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, allowing the sun to warm the grounds of Hogwarts. As if it were written in scripture, students were opting to lounge around outside rather than spend any amount of time inside. You had prepared a few snacks to bring with you while you attempted to study. You made it maybe fifteen minutes before deciding it was too beautiful of a day to be studying, even if you were outside. You wanted to enjoy it fully so now you were eating some of the snacks and people watching.

You are fairly well entertained when you notice some movement near you. There’s a squirrel, twitchy nose and bushy tail, looking at you. Or, more accurately, the sandwich in your hand. The squirrel moves closer to you, approaching with caution. It was clearly ready to sprint away in a split second if it sensed danger. You pick off a bit of crust and toss it to the side of the creature. You didn’t want to hit it. That would give it the wrong impression. You smile as the squirrel quickly grabs the crust and immediately begins to nibble on it. You swear it looks back at you with hopeful eyes. You laugh and toss a piece further away. The squirrel goes to retrieve the new crust, eats it and comes back, the same hopeful look in its eyes. You repeat your actions, tossing the small crumbs of bread greater distances. You can’t help yourself; it’s just like playing fetch with a dog.

From their usual spot near the Black Lake, the Marauders are also enjoying the weather. Unlike you, they didn’t bother to bring homework or snacks. James, Remus and Peter were discussing plans and details for their next prank. Sirius wasn’t listening. He had spotted you when they walked out and he hadn’t been able to look away. He was confused at what you were doing, periodically tossing something and laughing. He was too far away to see the squirrel.

“Oi, Earth to Padfoot!” Peter all but yells, waving his hand in front of Sirius’ face.

“Huh? What?”

“Prongs wants your opinion on dungbombs or enchanted stink pellets.”

“But now I want to know what you find so interesting,” James says, trying to see what he had been looking at.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“It’s Dorcas’ friend,” Remus says, a smile creeping up his face. “The dog person, remember?”

James’ face lights up. “Still intrigued, are you?”

“Shut up.”

“Definitely still intrigued,” Peter confirms. “I’m not sure Padfoot heard most of our conversation.”

“I did so,” Sirius tries to defend. “I was listening.”

“And staring at her,” Remus adds.

“Have you considered, oh, I don’t know, talking to her?” Peter asks. “Or go balls deep and ask her out.”

Sirius rolls his eyes, turning his full attention back to the group.

“There was a moment at the last party. She was leaving and I basically asked her to stay and she didn’t.”

“Maybe parties aren’t her thing,” James offers, trying to be helpful.

“She did leave the other one right after she talked to you,” Remus says.

“Maybe it’s talking to you she doesn’t like. That’d be a first for a girl,” Peter snorts.

“We talk just fine!”

“Maybe you’re draining?”

“Wormtail, not helping,” Remus scolds him.

“I’m again suggesting that maybe she doesn’t like parties. Or maybe it’s the Gryffindor Common Room.”

Sirius looks at James, a small smile forming on his face.

“It could be the common room. She was leaving the party and I convinced her to come to the Astronomy Tower with me. It wasn’t until I tried to get her back into the common room that she actually left.”

Peter laughs, “You took her to the Astronomy Tower? And you didn't snog her? It’s that your spot?”

Sirius rolls his eyes. “It’s a spot. Can’t say I own it.”

“You’ve taken a fair amount of girls up there though,” Remus adds.

“I went up for air.” The boys give him disbelieving looks. “Okay, and I followed her out because I didn’t want her leaving so soon. As you so kindly confirmed, I am still intrigued by her. Happy?”

James crosses his arms and nods. “Yes. Quite.”

Sirius looks back at you and his smile slowly turns down into a tight lipped frown. Some time during his friends’ interrogation, his brother had made himself at home next to you. Even as far away as you are, you’re obviously comfortable and happy in his presence. An unnerving feeling erupts in Sirius’ stomach.

---

“Slug Club is having a cocktail party in a few weeks. Old Sluggy seems adamant that everyone brings a date,” Regulus complains, disgust dripping from the last word.

You chuckle, tossing the squirrel another crumb of food.

“Salazar, Reg, you act like bringing a friend is the end of the world.”

“A friend, no. A date, yes,” he corrects you.

“Same difference. Pretty sure Horace wants to make sure all his favorites are making the connections he wants them to. No one too sketchy and ill-fitting for him.”

Regulus groans and rests his forehead on your shoulder. You ruffle his hair affectionately.

“Does Slug like you?” Regulus mumbles into your arm.

“Enough, I guess. Not skilled enough in Potions or necessarily connected to anyone to earn myself a spot in the club.” You pause. “As you should know.”

“But if I brought you, he’d approve?”

You look down at Regulus. “You’re desperate for his approval?”

He lifts his head up just to nod it vigorously. His eyes are begging you to agree to his unasked invitation. You give him an amused half smile, your eyes twinkling with mischief.

“You’re going to make me actually ask, aren’t you?”

You nod, not looking away.

“Darling, will you go to the Slug Club party with me? If I have to suffer through it, I’d like company I can stand.”

“Oh, Regulus, you sure do know how to make a girl feel special,” you say with feigned sweetness, placing your hand over your heart. Then in your normal tone, “Yes, I’ll go with you. Please tell me I don’t have to dress too fancy, do I?”

“Uh, he didn’t say. I’ll ask.”

You nod and look bad to the squirrel. It’s been inching closer to you and your food. Regulus eyes the creature warily.

“Did you befriend that or something?”

“He’s just a little hungry.” The look of mischief in your eyes brightens. “Do you think I can get him to eat out of my hand? I’ve just been tossing him small bits but now that he’s closer…”

Your voice trails off as you break off a small chunk of bread and place it in the center of your palm. You flatten your hand completely and hold it out in front of you, close to the ground so the squirrel would be able to reach it.

“Ugh, please don’t,” Regulus groans, looking away from what he assumes will be some sort of disaster.

To his surprise, he hears you giggle and tentatively looks back. Your hand is empty. The squirrel is sitting back on its haunches, bread chunk in his tiny hands being nibbled on. You slowly lean forward and run a gentle finger down the animal’s back. It doesn’t seem to mind, but Regulus is fairly certain it’s because the squirrel is too preoccupied with the food you had provided it.

“One of these days you’re going to get bitten,” he warns, making you laugh.

“From my experience and from what I've heard, I’m more likely to get a bite from a classmate.”

Regulus’ eyes go wide. “Who is going to bite you?”

“Junior fully threatened to before he got together with Evan.”

Regulus makes a face and then you both start laughing.

“I don’t think that will stop him if he decides he wants to. Evan might bite you too.”

“And maybe a hungry Gryffindor if I get between them and breakfast?”

Regulus rolls his eyes. “As long as it’s not my brother. You might get rabies.”

“Are we sure that Junior doesn’t have that?”

“No.”

You start laughing harder than before. Somehow during your entire time outside, you never looked in Sirius’ direction and never saw him watching you.

tags: @2dloveshp, @yearninglustfully, @made-for-oliverwood, @ilovejamespottersomuch, @hisparentsgallerryy, @itsseaberri, @corawithfanfiction, @devilslittlehelper, @jllyunn

#marauders fic #marauders #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black fluff #slytherin!reader #slow burn #marauder-misprint

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writing-mlm · 2 days ago

Text

Is it real?

Summary: It’s thanksgiving, current plan: ignore your family, backup plan: stay for Alfred’s left overs. Pairing: Damian Wayne x Male reader Wc: 7.1k A/n: I saw comments asking for part 2 so… rushed this out bc Thanksgiving is like… two(??) days away Warning: mentions of homophobic family but they’re silent the whole time, nothing negative is really just it’s just the feeling of knowing that they are

Damian had always known he liked men, there wasn’t one defining moment in his youth where it clicked. He didn’t watch some movie and fall in love with the lead actor, he didn’t have a love-at-first-sight moment that made everything make sense. It’s just something that’s always been. But falling for you had been something that had been gradual.

At first, you were just some intern with a loud laugh and clearly hung out with not the best people. He’d seen you in the hallway of Gotham University, which was a surprise considering how large the campus is and he grew a little suspicious. He’s Robin, of course, he’s going to be suspicious of a coincidence.

But falling for you had been incredibly easy when he looked back at it. He just remembers that one random night, after work and school, on your way back from patrol where he looked at you as you sang along (badly, he’d tease you and you’d say it was on purpose) to your patrolling playlist. It was this warm feeling that washed over him, his stomach tossed up and he was thankful that he got to spend his days next to you. It made him realize he’d been falling for a while now and in that moment, it all just felt right.

Truly Damian had never expected love to be that simple. He had expected it to be something akin to trials of battle. Something he had to defend like he defended himself. How grateful he is that he was wrong about something.

He considers himself lucky in that regard.

He looks at you as the two of you sit in the garden, looking at the fallen white snow cloaking the nearly barren bushes. The cold is nipping at his nose and it’s starting to snow again. His pants are wet and cold, his hands tense with what he thinks are the early signs of frostbite. But you look lovely, you look like everything he wants and more.

A part of him wonders if he deserves this. If his happy ending is something he has been able to get; if he’s atoned for his past. If the blood he’d split has finally dried and he’s able to truly move along. But he tries not to remind himself about his past, focusing on his present or whatever stupid thing Grayson always preaches about.

Sighing, he taps the cold bench with his knuckles before standing up.

“I believe father should be done talking with your family,” He says and you hum, following after him. You walk hand in hand, your bodies begging for warmth. He notes the recent footprints that aren’t his or yours and figures it was Diana. She’d been wearing kitten heels and that’s the print of them. It makes him smile, figuring she probably got the hint.

He glances at you as the two of you walk in tandem; he’s known about your family issues for a while. Sworn to secrecy because you didn’t want the others to pity you or try to somehow make up for your family’s shortcomings. You knew his family; you knew how much they liked you and how if they knew the truth, how your family wouldn’t even be allowed to step foot inside.

He doesn’t know why, honestly he’s tried to imagine it, but you still love them. You still answer their texts, you still wish them a happy birthday even though they rarely do the same, and you haven’t spoken truly ill of them to anyone but him.

You believed you never did anything remarkable; born to live in the middle child’s role for the rest of your life and he cannot imagine that.

Gotham University is comparable to Ivy League in almost every regard. You managed to be one of his father's best interns long before you’d gotten your powers. You had enough self-preservation and drive to uproot your entire life, growing used to the harsh environment of Gotham alone. You’ve been beaten and broken enough times to make a grown man quit and yet, you put on the suit night after night, fighting crime with a joke and a smile. You had literally no one in your corner for years and yet he watches as you smile at the snow falling on your nose.

He knows you’re incredibly strong and he wishes nothing but the best for you; which is why he’ll proudly wear your relationship on his sleeve.

You look at him, feeling his intense gaze and he grins, kissing you again.

“You okay?” You ask when he pulls away. He nods, looking back towards the manor as you exit the maze.

“I’m happy I can kiss you freely.” Is all he says and you playfully roll your eyes. Your siblings are waiting on the porch while Damian’s siblings and further in the snow, talking using sign language when Cassandra waves you both over.

“We have a plan,” She says. “We are going to act like I can’t speak. Only sign language with your family,” They do that every time the family is introduced to someone new, kept it up with Bernard for nearly a year before someone broke. You managed about two months but that’s only because you accidentally walked into a very heated conversation between her and Jason about ballet plays.

“I agree.” Damian nods.

“It’s only natural.” You agree.

“Yo,” Jason suddenly says while smacking your arm. “Is your stepmother the mom of your sister?” You cringe when you think about it and the weird family drama around them.

“No, she’s an affair baby,” You start and scratch your cheek. “She’s my mom's god-sister's daughter. Her and my dad didn’t date, though. It’s complicated.”

“Oh, okay,” Steph sighs. “Because they look so similar.”

“Oh, yeah. They’re cousins.”

“Huh?” They all blink and you glance at Damian. He shakes his head; he’s not going to explain this mess.

“It’s complicated.”

“I’m going to need a full explanation,” Tim shakes his head, arms crossed over his chest while you inhale.

“Okay, her mother is Lupe. Lupe and my dad slept together for about five years before they had my sister. My mom found out because Lupe’s mother told her because she thought my dad would ‘step up’ and marry Lupe; spoiler, he didn’t. My dad's wife is Lupe’s older sister's daughter.” You explain, using your fingers to keep track of people.

“Okay,” Cass nods. “So, how old is everyone and when did they divorce?”

“My sister, Nadia, is twenty-seven, Pat is twenty-four, Diana is eighteen, and Lupe is ten. My parents divorced before Lupe was born.”

“She has her mother's name?” Jason gasps, holding back a laugh.

“Dad tried to change it; but you need both signatures. Everyone just calls her Lulu. My mom doesn’t acknowledge her.”

“Are we done here?” Damian sighs.

“Yes, you can go back to kissing your boyfriend,” Tim rolls his eyes while Jason just shakes his head; still in disbelief that Damian had decided on his own that was in a relationship. He feels like he’s done that in another universe, too.

“So,” Steph starts just before the two of you can walk away. “When’s your anniversary? Or do you celebrate both of them?” She teases and the others laugh.

“I’m not answering that,” He grumbles and grabs your hand, pulling you away.

On the porch, he looks at Nadia and her roommate. They’re holding pinkies, testing the waters while your fingers haven’t left Damian’s in nearly twenty minutes. He feels bad for them; despite his upbringing and hardships, he can confidently say that neither side of his family is homophobic. Not even in the slightest; he’s heard about Ra’s and Bruce’s escapades— although Bruce thankfully reassured him that his grandfather was not on his vast list of people he’d taken to bed.

He goes to remove his hand, fearing you wouldn’t want your family to know but you squeeze his hand, keeping his hand firmly pressed against your skin. He looks at you and you offer a smile, guiding him to a porch bench while you wait for Bruce to let everyone back inside.

He blinks, holding back a smile while you pull out your phone with your free hand. You’re playing some tedious game about placing blocks that he finds himself captivated in. It’s as if he can see your thinking in real time; understanding how your brain works.

“So,” Nadia’s roommate— girlfriend, he corrects himself, Kendall, starts. Her voice feels almost surreal in the soft silence that fills the backyard. He’d nearly forgotten you weren’t alone. Nearly. “Are you two…”

“Dating?” You ask, voice carrying a sort of understanding that Kendall smiles at. She nods and you smile, nudging Damian’s shoulder with your own. “Yeah, we are.”

“Cool,” She says, eyes darting to Nadia’s who just looks down.

“Gross,” Pat says, eyes flickering to Damian’s. “You can do better.” Rolling your eyes, you return to your phone.

“There is no such thing,” Damian answers and you pause, your thumb-stopping as you’re about to place a block. “Your brother is the best thing to happen to me.” Smiling, you lock your phone but pretend you’re still using it. Pat rolls his eyes but he doesn’t say anything further.

From what you’ve told Damian he knows that Pat is an envious man. Envious that Nadia had won the lottery, envious Diana got your parent's love and affection, envious that you were able to escape the suffocating clutches of your parents when no one else could.

He feels bad for Pat. He wanted to be an elementary school teacher but your parents had pushed for a ‘more respectable’ degree. You said after that he lost his spark. Became a shell of himself; not that you liked him before all that. He wasn’t a good brother to you, always thought you were too childish. Too head in the clouds to do anything. It was strange, considering the close ages between the two of you and you remember a time the two of you were close.

The door opens and Damian looks over at his father as he fixes his jacket. His neck is tight but he forces himself to relax and he smiles. It’s the smile he puts on for a crowd, during gala’s, during meetings; whenever he has to put on his Brucie Wayne persona. Because anyone who knew Bruce, really knew him, knew his smile was different.

“Come on, children.” He says, stepping aside as Tim rushes in.

“He’s too anemic to be in the cold for so long,” Jason snickers, stepping in after Tim.

Damian has you walk inside first, watching as his fathers eyes track you with a solemn look. It’s the look he had when you opened up about your family and he looks forward, staring at the back of your head as you enter the room for the third time that day.

Your step-mother is no longer on your father's lap, she’s sat next to him and settles with just holding his hand. Your mother is opposite to them, her expression— Damian hates to admit it, he’s sorry for even making the connection in his head— is nearly identical to yours when you’re annoyed. Your father— again, really, he’s sorry for the connection— has the traits too. It’s the eyebrows and nose flare with your mother, the eyes and lip curl with your father.

He wonders if you realize it and that’s why you don’t like getting upset. The reason why you try to avoid conflict if possible.

Lupe climbs onto your fathers lap, the coldness has only made her more tired and he kisses her head, providing the warmth you’d never gotten from him.

Damian looks at you as you’re holding a recording device between your fingers; a conflicted expression clear on your face before Bruce slyly takes it and crushes it under his finger.

“Bruce-!” You gasp but he shakes his head, hand on your shoulder. “Okay,”

The two of you take your seats again, your head naturally finding a home on his shoulder while his arm wraps around your shoulder; tracing shapes into your arm absentmindedly.

Diana scowls as she enters the room; the two of you sit in the middle because she just knows- oh, she knows you’re doing this on purpose. You’re jealous of her so this is your revenge, you’ve always done things like this. Getting better grades, turning her friends against her (she doesn’t know how for that one yet, despite it being nearly six years ago), countless others and now this. You can’t just be happy for her.

You ignore her, still playing that damn game that Damian doesn’t know why you play.

For some strange reason, Damian remembers back to when you learned Wonder Woman’s identity. How your face had dropped and how he snickered when you muttered; ‘that’s an unfortunate name’ that Diana had raised an eyebrow to. You had quickly apologized, of course, later recounting how embarrassing it was when you were alone with Damian.

You still call her Ms. Prince, though.

His eyes flicker to Nadia and Kendall; Nadia is pressed in between your mother and Kendall, her leg bouncing while Kendall seems almost unfazed being between Nadia and Jason.

He’s probably wondering when the food is going to be done; he’s been preparing for this day. Literally; him and Tim and sometimes even Duke will take on extra patrol shifts the day before and not eat the day of Thanksgiving just to make sure they have enough room in their stomach for the feast Alfred prepares.

While Damian is a little sad that Duke wasn’t able to make it this year, he’s glad he’s able to spend it with his family this year. He says they’re getting better, it’s taken several years but the Joker venom is weaning off of them. He can tell and the doctors confirmed it. They’re good enough that he can have an actual meal with them again.

You check the time; five-sixteen, and almost sigh. Dinner always starts at eight on the dot and man, you’re hungry. Alfred doesn’t let anyone in the kitchen for a nibble on anything; just a glass of water before he kicks them out.

Maybe if you texted Damian he could sneak out and bring some food for the two of you.

“No,” He whispers when you’re hovering over your texts, debating typing it out. Grumbling, you put your phone down and look around.

There’s not much going on, a couple of conversations have broken out but nothing worthy of note. Bruce is almost guarding the door with the way he’s placed his seat, facing over everyone. You wonder what he talked about; you’re not stupid, you know it’s about you, but you want to know exactly what was said. It’s stupid but you worry that Bruce is tired of you, maybe he agrees with your parents that you’re just that kid. Nothing special.

Damian feels your pulse when his hand travels to run across your neck, his fingers ghosting from your elbow up and you shudder. His eyebrows furrow when he feels the beating and he discreetly checks on you, your eyes darting about the carpet as your worry vein starts to show on your forehead.

“Father,” Damian says and Bruce looks over, a quiet hm of acknowledgment coming from the man. “Can we be excused?”

“Of course, Damian,” He nods as a thank you and taps your back, beckoning you up from the couch and you follow him out of the room.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks once you’re a couple of steps away from the room. You shrug, fingernails digging into the rubber phone case. He hates that; hates when you don’t give him a verbal response because how is he supposed to help? He’s great at reading body language, yes, of course he is, but he wants you to talk.

“You’re worried about something,” He says as you’re traveling up the large staircase. The old wood creaks under your footsteps, the banister sharing it when your hand presses down against it.

“Does Bruce like me?” You ask and he blinks over at you.

“My father adores you. He’d adopt you if he could,” He reassures with ease and you smile. “You’re worried about what he spoke to your family about?” Nodding, he looks up the stairs and thinks for a moment.

“I’m going to be honest with you; I have a couple of theories myself. The most likely one is that father invited them here on purpose; he wants to know them because he realized at the tree that your family doesn’t treat you well. He probably played the aloof character he often does and sang your well-deserved praises, watching as your parents squirmed.”

“You really think that?”

“I’d never lie to you,” He promises, kissing your knuckles. “Do you want to take a nap?”

“Yes, please,”

—

Damian had stayed awake at his desk while you napped on his bed, curled up on his blankets and his pillows, Titus happily sharing the space with you. He hates to admit it, but he definitely watched you as you slept; simply admiring you.

The others had checked on the two of you periodically, finding Damian was more often than not simply sitting in the silence of the room. Jason wanted to make a joke, something about day one relationship bliss but he held his tongue, he didn’t know why. Don’t ask him. He totally should’ve made the joke.

When you woke up, he put his book down and waited for you to say something.

“Is the food done?” He laughs and checks his phone. Two minutes until eight.

“It should be once we head downstairs,” You smile this sleepy smile, face still pressed into his pillow and he swears his heart swells. With a quick fixing of your clothes and hair, the two of you head downstairs as Bruce is heading up.

“Good,” He breathes. “I was on my way to get the two of you.” He waits for the two of you to walk past before heading back down himself. Jason and Dick are helping bring the food into the large dining room. Two trays of food in each of their arms while Alfred carts in more trays. You can smell the food from the bottom of the stairs and you’re so glad Damian forced you to go.

You can imagine the leftovers now.

Bruce sits at the head of the table as he’s always had, Damian pulls out a chair, one away from the corner seat where he’d be sitting, and nods with his eyes for you to sit.

“He’s such a gentleman,” Tim cooes from across from you.

“Just because you were raised without class, Drake doesn’t mean the rest of us were.” Damian quickly replies. Bruce wants to smile; he’ll never admit he loves his children’s banter, but he puts on his old man's tired face to save Damian the embarrassment of knowing his father finds his actions cute.

Cassandra takes the seat across from Damian while you find Kori next to you. Dick is next to her, but Mar’i is asleep in a mobile bassinet between the two of them. They promise she’s a heavy sleeper but everyone is ever aware of their volume as she sleeps.

You wonder why more partners aren’t at the dinner. Jason usually invites at least one of the Outlaws, the Kents are almost always there, and maybe one or two of Dick’s Titans show up. You were hoping at least Jon would be there; it’s been a while since you’ve seen him.

Stephanie settles next to Tim, followed by Jason. He likes to be as far as he can from Bruce without being too far because… Bruce and Jason's things.

You don’t care where your family sits, honestly you try to block them out. Between your parents, siblings, aunt, and cousins (plus Kendall and your father's wife), you can’t bring yourself to care.

The last of the food is set and Alfred takes the seat at the other end of the table. Head of household go on the ends, is what Damian had told you when you first questioned it.

“Wanna say what we’re grateful for?” Dick grins the same way he does every single Thanksgiving that the others mouth the words as he’s saying it.

“Sure,” Bruce nods, his eyes scanning over the table. “I suppose I’ll start, then.”

“I’m thankful for my children finding happiness,” He smiles. “Wherever that may be.” He adds, looking at Jason.

“Oh, I need a drink,” Jason mutters and grabs his glass, pouring whiskey out from his flask.

It’s Cassandra’s turn and she looks around before signing

‘I’m thankful for ballet.’ Everyone replies in sign, not because they actually want to reply, but because it’s funny. You catch your family's embarrassed glances at each other when they realize they have no idea what she said and no one is willing to translate for them.

Tim doesn’t realize it’s his turn and returns to staring at his lap, trying to hide the fact that he’s working. Stephanie nudges him and he looks up, not even embarrassed that he’s been caught.

“I’m thankful for the internet in the dining room.”

“I’m thankful for…” Stephanie trails. “Cassandra.”

“I’m thankful for alcohol,” Jason says as he takes another large gulp. He wanted to say guns, he always says guns, but you guess Bruce had told him not to this year.

Kendall is next, her eyes flicker to you for a brief moment as she thinks.

“I’m thankful that I have someone to celebrate with,” Is what she settles on before it’s Nadia’s turn.

“I’m thankful for Kendall,” She smiles, her voice shaking as she says it. Kendall smiles down at the table, hiding her pink face. It continues on, your cousins are thankful for Kai Cenat, your brother says some corporate answer you forgot immediately after, Lupe says her iPad, your father says his wife, his wife says him, your mother said her husband, her husband said her, your aunt said her kids, and then it’s Diana’s turn.

“I’m thankful that Mr. Wayne opened his doors to us,” She says in this sickly sweet voice that makes you inhale and hold your tongue. Thankfully that Kori’s hair mostly blocks you from the others, you shake Damian’s shoulder and he stifles a laugh.

The married couple says sappy married couple answers and suddenly it’s your turn.

“I’m thankful that I have all of my organs,”

“You’re still on that?” Tim glares, looking up from his laptop and you laugh, the others joining in. “It happened one—“

“Kids,” Bruce says and Tim looks back down at his laptop. He looks at you and you sigh.

“I’m thankful for the blue— I’m thankful for the food Alfred cooked so tirelessly,” You say and the family nods to that, even Tim.

“I’m thankful for (Y/n),” Damian says and Jason cheers when Dick slides him a twenty. “You’re childish.”

“And you’re predictable,” He sings, holding up the crisp twenty-dollar bill. Damian goes to say something but Alfred clears his throat and anything he was going to say dies before it reaches his tongue.

“I’m thankful for another year with all of you,” Alfred smiles fondly at everyone, even you.

“Dig in.” Getting food is nearly a free-for-all hell. It’s why Alfred always makes enough that you don’t need to reach too far to get your favorite foods. You pile food onto your plate, fighting Tim with the spoon and ever aware of your family’s bewildered expressions.

It’s strange for them to see; you’re so happy here. Clearly, in your time in Gotham, you’ve been integrated into the family, settling nicely in their bunch. You’re laughing with Jason about something they don’t get, sharing a forkful of food with Damian because he wanted you to try the tofu ham he loves so dearly. You never liked tofu before, your mother tried once, but you love their tofu ham.

You have inside jokes with them, even with Bruce. Bruce asks about your classes and they realize they can’t name a single class you take; they don’t even know your major.

But somehow, someway, it’s your fault. You don’t call enough, you don’t text enough, you don’t come home. It’s not because of them; they’ve done nothing wrong.

And you know that’s what they think.

With the initial food free-for-all done, you settle into nice conversations that often have breaks of silence because you’re talking to Cassandra. It’s also the first time Bruce participates in the ongoing gag.

“No, you nearly killed Jerry on his first Thanksgiving,” Damian insists to Jason. “You’re the reason we didn’t have a Turkey for four years.”

“I’m not the one who tried to kill me.”

“Pretty sure you have,” Tim comments, and Jason snorts before covering his face.

“We agreed to no more suicide jokes,” Bruce lazily reminded.

“Was it ever a joke…?” You test the waters and he sighs, holding his face while the others laugh.

“That’s so rude, (Y/n)!” Diana shouts and everyone goes silent. Dead silent. “Don’t joke about suicide!” The others glance at her, unsure of what to do. You blink, pushing food into your mouth and slowly chew.

“It’s harmless banter between friends and siblings,” Damian says. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“Oh…” She settles in her seat. “I guess,”

“Anyway,” Stephanie looks away from her, giving you a glance that says ‘seriously, you’re related?’ and you just shrug. “Did Jason try to kill Jerry?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Okay, let’s ask Alfred.” Alfred looks up from his plate, wiping a napkin along his mouth with wide eyes when he sees the children have turned to him for his verdict.

“Oh, well. That was so long ago, I suppose I’ve forgotten what’s happened.”

“Nonsense Pennyworth; your memory is sharp. No need to spare Todd’s feelings.”

“I know the demon spawn can be a bear but you can tell the truth, Alfred.”

Bruce sighs because he knows this topic will never end.

“It wasn’t him.” Bruce blurts before covering his mouth with a napkin. Alfred gives him a thankful look but Damian slowly turns to look at Bruce.

“What?” Damian leans over, eyes wide as he stares at his father. “Who was it, father?”

“It was…” He sighs. “Me.”

Shouting erupts at the table, you and Cassandra sit, shell-shocked as years of a feud had been for nothing— something Bruce could’ve stopped long ago.

‘Wasn’t it you?’ You ask and she nods, serving herself more mashed potatoes. You snicker, reaching over to finish Damian’s glass of wine. He takes the last sip of his father's glass, angrily downing it because the shouting has made his throat dry.

“I cannot believe you let Todd take the blame,” Damian breathes as he settles down. “It’s been nearly ten years, father!”

“Oh heavens,” Alfred shakes his head. “I shall bring out more wine.”

“Bourbon, please, Alfred.” Bruce and Jason grumble.

“Having fun?” Tim grins over at your family. The bunch are shocked; well your cousins are eating this up and Lupe is still playing on her iPad. You didn’t expect anything less from them if you’re being truthful.

“You have a… lively family,” Your father’s wife smiles.

“Hopefully you’ll marry into it, right?” Tim continues to egg them on. “Then we’ll be one big happy family.” He winks at your mother who gawks.

“Yup,” You nod, much to Damian’s shock. “One big, gay, happy wedding, right, Dames.” He quickly collects himself and nods.

“Honeymoon to whatever island you want; after our destination wedding. I’m thinking Istanbul or Cape Town, South Africa.”

“Mhmm, and then we’ll get a big mansion somewhere.”

“A farm, too.”

“That sounds nice,” Kori agrees.

“You’ll be my maid of honor, of course.”

“And Dick will be my best man.”

“He’ll be mine.” You disagree, turning to Damian.

“You cannot have both!”

“Fine, I’m taking Casandra.”

“No! She’ll be my maid of honor. Why don’t you pick Drake or something?”

“I’m busy that day,” Tim responds and Damian squints. “I might be able to squeeze you in.” Tim concedes.

“I’m taking Jon, then.”

“Oh my god,” Bruce puts his head in his hands as Alfred pours him a glass of bourbon. He downs it and Alfred quickly pours another glass. “There won’t be a marriage until you’ve finished college.”

“I didn’t know you moved that fast,” Jason teases.

“It’s not fast if I’m sure he’s the love of my life.”

You pause, staring down at your glass as the room falls silent.

Honestly, this is moving… fast. You’ve never been in love, at least you don’t think you have. You’ve never really known love; your father cheated for five years, your mother married your father's (now former) boss out of spite, your father is currently married to someone the same age as his eldest daughter, and your sister was in a hidden relationship.

Your girlfriends have been nice. You liked them enough, they weren’t bad in any way. You enjoyed being with them but you wouldn’t say you’ve ever loved any of them.

With Damian, you aren’t sure if what you’re feeling is love. Maybe puppy love but… love. You aren’t sure about that; you’d been joking about the marriage stuff. It was a joke to get your family uncomfortable. You weren’t even sure you wanted to get married! Let alone to Damian.

The relationship was literal hours long at this point— sure longer in Damian’s eyes but he’s clearly had romantic feelings for you for longer than you’ve had them for him. Maybe you hadn’t realized before, sure, yes, that’s entirely possible. But you don’t love him just yet.

“I’m gonna… use the bathroom…” Diana excuses herself, her kitten heels clicking against the freshly polished floor.

Your ears are ringing as Damian continues his conversations like normal. You glance around, finding Tim’s eyes in the chaos that’s your current state. He raises his eyebrows and you must’ve made a face because he did a short nod. Damian says something; something about you. He wants your opinion about something but you don’t know what he said. There was just one fact running through your mind.

He was in love with you. Like genuinely.

You must’ve been a horrible gay boyfriend because you smile and ask him to repeat himself.

“Oh, (Y/n),” Tim cuts you off, closing his laptop. “I wanted your opinion on something about… stuff; join me.”

“Can’t it wait?” Bruce asks. He assumes it’s about his case because Bruce was considering asking you some questions about it anyway. It had to deal with your major and why not ask the kid who’s currently studying what he thinks?

“Don’t wanna forget,” Tim shakes his head.

“It’s okay,” You smile. “I’ll be back in the second, yeah?” Damian nods, squeezing your hand as you leave the room with Tim.

“He’s a lot.” Is the first thing Tim says when you’re walking into a nearby room.

“I wouldn’t say that,” You mumble, falling onto a couch with a loud sigh.

“Really? Because he just said you’re the love of his life and you looked sick.”

“I’m just—“ Any reasoning dies before you find it and you look at him. “It was shocking.” You settle on saying.

“Yeah, you’ve been dating for maybe six hours and you were asleep for half of them. Congrats, though. You’ve clearly won him over,” Tim settles across from you, his legs hanging off of the chair while he hangs his head, staring at the dead fireplace.

“I don’t know what love is.” You blurt and he looks up, half interested.

“Considering your family is a weird fucking situation, I figured.”

“Shut up, fucking detective.”

“Ouch,” He teases with a grin. “Put ‘World’s Greatest’ in front of it next time.”

“Can you explain love? Maybe then I'll put the title.”

“You’re great at barging,” Tim sits up, now resting his chin on his fists. You stare at him, waiting and he sits there. Thinking.

“If Jon was to walk through the doors and declare his love for Damian, how would you feel?”

“Upset. Confused.” You shrug.

“How often do you look for him?”

“Not often. We’re never apart.”

“When you are.” He corrects, rolling his eyes.

“Often, I guess. I worry;” You shrug.

“About what?”

“During…” Glancing at the door. “Our side jobs, I worry that he’s been taken. I guess. Maybe worse. During classes I just miss him, I’m used to being around him.”

“Used to or want to?”

“What do you mean?” Your face pinches and Tim tilts his head.

“Are you used to being around Damian or do you want to be around Damian?”

“I want to,” You answer without hesitation. “I miss him when I sleep and he’s not there. I think of him whenever I’m shopping because I often see something he would like. I’ve…” You trail off, rubbing your hands on your legs. “Never told him I’m mildly allergic to dogs because he loves Titus.”

“You’re allergic to dogs?”

“Mhmm, my throat gets itchy for a bit when I touch them or something they’ve come into contact with. I try not to touch them too often. I think I’ve built an immunity, though.”

“I’d say you’re in love. I would never do that,” He laughs. “Maybe baby love and Damian’s full deep-end love, but love.”

“Really?” You smile and he nods, looking you up and down as if he’s judging you. He totally is.

“Yeah, only fools in love would do something that stupid.”

—

When Diana returns to the dining room, you pay her no mind. You're holding your goddaughter as she stares up at you, holding your finger. Her eyes really are green like her mother's. She smiles, cooing when Damian strokes the top of her head.

She’s not old enough to have normal food, but it doesn’t mean she likes it. She tries to grab the fork whenever she can and even tries to remove the tablecloth to get to the delicious food. Against your wishes, Kori takes her upstairs. Dick says she needs to eat and you reluctantly understand, missing her already.

“It’s time for dessert,” Alfred announces as he stands some time after Kori comes back, Mar’i once again fast asleep. Everyone had finished their plates and slumped in their seats, sure they were going to fall into a food coma.

“I’ll help clear the table,” You offer, standing up and grabbing some of the trays. Jason does the same and you stare at each other; silently agreeing you’d split the leftovers evenly if you don’t argue and alert the others.

Alfred takes the trays the two of you don’t and once they’re set on the table, he watches as the two of you rush to grab the tupperware he takes out for Thanksgiving and pile food inside.

“Do leave some for the rest of us,” He comments as he goes back into the dining room to fetch the dirty plates and utensils and you apologize but continue filling the trays. You end up with eight heavy bowls; four for you and four for Damian. It’s not a lot, all things considered. No one else really gets the vegan things so it's always going with Damian. But even with Jason’s filling, there’s more than enough for everyone else.

You put your tubs into your toolbox, preserving them exactly how they are while Jason has to put his in the fridge after slapping several sticky notes and writing on the tubs that the food is his and he will shoot whoever takes them.

You’re nearly tempted.

Alfred returns with the dishes, scraping the bones and scraps into the trash before he places them in the sink to soak.

“Go inside, you will not have first dibs on dessert.” He says, eyeing the two of you while you stand in the kitchen's doorway.

“Aw man,” You frown, dragging your feet as you walk away.

“I assume you stole the leftovers?” Damian grins when you sit back down.

“Absolutely,” You grin back, knocking his leg with yours. “All the favorites, enough for a week.” He nods in approval, once again looking over the table.

Alfred wheels in the desert and you swear it’s like feeding time at the zoo because the right side of the table eye the trays like they’re raw meat and they’re wild animals who hadn’t eaten in ages. Even Bruce.

He sets the left side first; which will have the same things as the right and your mouth waters when you see the knafeh. You know your family won’t love it the same way you do and god, you’re going to take the whole pan home. There’s an elaborate strawberry cheesecake, three pies (apple, pecan, and pumpkin), banana pudding, and crème brûlée donuts.

“I’m gonna cry,” Stephanie whispers, her leg bouncing with anticipation. “It’s so beautiful.”

When Bruce gives the nod to dig in— after Alfred pre-cut slices and gave everyone warning stares—, the dessert free-for-all is more contained. Everyone gets two slices of each pie, two of the cheesecake, enough of the pudding, and three donuts. It’s typically that way but everyone starts trading for their favorite things. You trade your pecan and pumpkin pie slices for: an apple slice, a donut, and two cheesecake slices. Or you don’t. Maybe you made it up; it’s up to your imagination, really.

Your focus is on the knafeh; everyone always gives you one of their slices out of tradition. No need to trade for those bad boys.

Alfred pours eggnog for everyone as well— he even makes special ones for those with diet restrictions.

“This is so good,” Your cousin says, face stuffed with pumpkin pie. “You’re like Gordon Ramsay, dude.”

“Thank you, young man.” Alfred gives him a warm smile that makes your cousin beam.

“I’m a man,” He whispers to his mother, eyes twinkling. She laughs and ruffles his hair.

“So, you two are in a real relationship?” Your father's wife asks, pointing her fork between you and Damian. “Like… actually?”

“Yup,” You nod, licking your spoon clean of the apple pie filling.

“Unfortunately,” Jason teases.

“Just so you know; I’m like totally cool with gay people.” She says, holding her hand in your general direction as if you were going to grab it. “I’m an ally!”

“Nice,” You nod again. She smiles and nods, sipping her spiked eggnog. She spiked it, and everyone saw. She’ll deny it later.

“They’re clearly lying!” Diana shouts. You were waiting for that; she’d been incredibly silent for most of the dinner. It was only a matter of time. “(Y/n) is jealous that me and Damian clearly have a spark! He’s… he’s messing with Damian’s mind! You saw the way he looked at me at the tree and besides— (Y/n) has had girlfriends before!”

“I’m bisexual.”

“As if! You don't even like Ryan Reynolds and I remember when you were eight and you said you’d date Red Hood if he was a girl!”

“I never said that!” You quickly shout, face heating up as the others around you snicker.

“Yes, you did! You made Nadia make you that Red Hood costume for Halloween and made posters of him! You painted our Nerf guns black! And you said you wanted to marry ‘Girl Red Hood’!”

“No, I didn’t! Oh my god, I didn’t!” You swear, shaking your head.

“You did,” Nadia nods and you cover your face, unable to look at the Wayne’s. “It was clear, in hindsight.”

“So,” Jason slowly nods. “Red Hood was your gay awakening?”

“No! I was not into Red Hood!”

“And then he was fixated on Robin for a while. The one with the swords,” Nadia continues and you almost sob, collapsing in your seat. “He wanted swords and he swore his Robin hoodie for almost two months straight; convinced dad to buy Robin bedsheets.”

“They’re lying,” Your voice is muffled under your hands. Damian rubs your shoulder but you can just tell he’s enjoying this.

“It was so much worse than the Red Hood phase,” Pat slowly agrees. “Is that why you moved here?”

“No, because that never happened.”

“It did,” Your mother slowly agrees. “But you stopped because of…” She trails, looking at your father. The conversation dies there and you’re able to breathe.

“Damian’s not even gay!”

“Diana,” You groan.

“Considering there’s a video going around of them kissing; I’d say he’s pretty gay,” Tim says and you look at him.

“You recorded us kissing?”

“Not me; that’s too weird for me.” He shakes his head, flipping his laptop to show you. “Diana was live and someone screen recorded. You’re trending with the hashtag: stuffing.”

“That’s just crazy,” You snicker but try to be serious.

“Hickeys so soon?” Stephanie wiggles her eyebrows at Damian as she watches the video.

“This is unbecoming,” Damian blinks at the video but everyone can see he’s red in the face. “I demand you stop playing the video.”

“I actually sent it to everyone already.”

“Drake!”

“Tim!”

“What?” He grins, looking between the two of you. “All of us have one— it’s a rite of passage for Bruce’s sort of kids to get caught making out and having it posted.”

—

Dinner wraps up, and you’re in the kitchen with Alfred, putting your leftovers into more Tupperware to avoid… all of them really. He’s washing the dishes, insistent that he does it alone and you let him. He won’t budge on his Thanksgiving dish duties for some odd reason.

You’re finishing up when your phone buzzes and you check it.

Diana :

Mom and dad are yelling at each other because of you. I hope you’re happy.

Just stop pretending you weren’t even bisexual yesterday.

It’s actually really sad.

They’re talking about changing custody because of you, now I won’t be able to see mom or dad EVER again.

Nadia:

I can see Diana texting you

it’s not your fault

you know how they are

and i’m proud that you came out, sorry i didn’t say it earlier

Your family had left in a haste, mostly rushed by your mother and father who climbed into a large uber with the kids and spouse. Your aunt and cousins were driven back by Dick.

You:

thanks, you too, btw

Nadia:

LOLLL maybe one day

you two should come visit us one day, see the farm

damian likes animals, right?

You:

yeah

loves them

She sends you some pictures of animals she’s gotten over the course of a couple years and you smile.

You:

oh he’ll definitely want to see them

maybe during spring break?

Nadia:

sounds perfect. stay safe, ill worry about mom and dad

You:

okay love you

Nadia:

love you too

—

Later that night, everyone is doing a late-night patrol when you hear Jason start speaking.

“Girl Red Hood?”

“They were lying!”

“For Hood’s sake, he better pray that is true.”

#x male reader #x reader #damian al ghul x male reader #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x male reader #damian wayne al ghul #robin x reader #robin x male reader

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authortelevision · 3 days ago

Text

you’re mine₊˚⊹♡

words: 3,002 ✦ .ᐟ

♯┆jealous george clarke, blow jobs, degradation, slut shaming, smut

you confess to george that you used to have a fan account about chrismd but when george finds the account himself you realise how possessive george can be and how much he wants you to know you’re only his

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hello hello !! this could technically be a part 2 to jealous george but you can also read it on its own

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You were sitting cross-legged on George’s bed, leaning against the headboard as he stretched out beside you, scrolling through his phone. His legs brushed against yours occasionally, and though it was casual, the closeness reminded you of how much you loved being his.

“I need to tell you something,” you said, your voice hesitant as you picked at a thread on the hem of your sweater.

George glanced up at you, sensing your unease. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, exactly…” You exhaled, cheeks already heating. “It’s just… okay, you have to promise not to get mad.”

He sat up a little straighter, narrowing his eyes. “That’s not a good start. What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” you said quickly, clutching a pillow to your chest. “It’s just… it’s something kind of embarrassing. About me. And, um… Chris.”

George’s expression shifted instantly, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. “Chris?” he repeated, his voice just a bit cooler. “What about Chris?”

You winced. “So, in 2020, I, um… I had a fan account for him.”

George blinked, clearly trying to process what you’d just said. And then, he laughed. But it wasn’t his usual easy, full laugh. This one sounded slightly forced, like he was trying to play it off.

“A fan account? For Chris?” he asked, his voice rising incredulously.

“Yes!” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I’m so embarrassed. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

George didn’t say anything for a moment, and when you peeked up at him, his lips were pressed into a thin line.

“So, what kind of fan account are we talking here?” he asked, a little too casually. “Were you posting thirst traps of him or something?”

“What? No!” you exclaimed, horrified. “It was just, like… appreciation posts! Pictures from his games, funny things he said in his videos, that sort of stuff.”

George let out a short laugh, but there was a tightness in his jaw that you couldn’t miss. “Right. Just a harmless little crush, then?”

“It wasn’t a crush!” you said quickly, the heat in your cheeks intensifying. “It was 2020. I was bored, and Chris just happened to be… entertaining.”

“Entertaining,” George repeated, his tone flat.

You groaned, throwing the pillow at him. “Oh my god, stop making it weird!”

“I’m not the one who made it weird,” he shot back, catching the pillow but holding onto it like he needed something to fidget with. “You’re the one confessing to having a fan account for Chris of all people.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, catching the edge in his voice. “George… are you jealous?”

“Jealous?” he repeated, scoffing. “Of Chris? Don’t be ridiculous.”

But the way he tossed the pillow aside a little too forcefully and crossed his arms said otherwise.

“You are jealous,” you said, a teasing grin breaking across your face despite your embarrassment.

“I’m not jealous,” he insisted, though his gaze flicked away from yours. “It’s just… it’s Chris. The guy who leaves his gym socks all over the flat and takes 45-minute showers. That’s who you thought was worthy of a fan account?”

You laughed, leaning closer to him. “It was years ago, George. I didn’t even know you or him back then.”

“Yeah, well,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair, “if I’d known, I would’ve made sure to stop it.”

“Oh, really?” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder. “And how exactly would you have done that?”

His eyes finally met yours, and there was an ounce of something possessive in them. “By making sure you knew there were better options.”

Your breath caught for a moment before you shook your head, laughing softly. “George, it wasn’t that deep. I wasn’t in love with him or anything.”

He huffed, still looking unimpressed. “Good. Because if I have to hear one more time about how Chris is ‘underrated’ or whatever…”

“Oh my god,” you said, groaning dramatically. “I regret telling you this already.”

George’s lips twitched into a smirk, though the jealousy still lingered in his eyes. “You know, I think I should make my own fan account. Post appreciation pictures of myself and see how you like it.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning over to kiss him lightly. “I’d be your biggest fan, George. You know that.”

His smirk softened into a genuine smile as he pulled you closer. “Good. Because I don’t want to compete with Chris for your attention.”

“You’re so weird,” you said, laughing as you settled into his arms.

“And you’re mine,” he murmured, the words warming your cheeks.

Chris might’ve been entertaining once, but sitting there with George, having him kiss all over your face, you couldn’t imagine ever thinking of anyone else. That was until now.

George had been distant all day. Usually, he’d find ways to hover near you, cracking jokes or stealing bites of your food just to make you roll your eyes. But today, he barely said a word. Instead, he spent most of the day holed up in his room or deliberately avoiding you in the flat.

At first, you thought maybe he was just having an off day, everyone had them. But when he brushed past you in the hallway without so much as a glance, it started to feel deliberate.

“George?” you called after him as he walked into his room, shutting the door behind him without a word.

Your patience finally snapped. You marched down the hall, pushed open his door without knocking, and slammed it shut behind you.

“What the hell is your problem?” you demanded, arms crossed as you glared at him.

George was standing by his desk, his back to you, his shoulders stiff. When he finally turned around, there was something sharp in his eyes that made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

“You know what’s the problem?” he said, his voice low but brimming with frustration. “You. You’re the problem.”

You blinked, stunned. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He stepped closer, his jaw tight. “I found it, by the way.”

“Found what?” you asked, your confusion genuine.

“The account,” he said, his voice cold. “Your fan account. The one you swore was harmless.”

You stared at him, your heart sinking. “Wait—how did you—”

“I looked for it,” he snapped, cutting you off. “And you lied to me. All those posts, all those things you wrote about him, how much you wanted him…” His voice cracked slightly, his frustration boiling over. “And you let him flirt with you, knowing you used to feel that way.”

“George,” you said, shaking your head, “what are you talking about? I told you, it wasn’t like that—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he interrupted, his voice louder now. “You wanted to fuck him, didn’t you?” George’s voice was sharp, accusing, the words slicing through the air like a knife.

“Excuse me?” you spoke back, stunned and furious. “That’s not fair, George. I never—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he interrupted again, his tone raising, his frustration spilling over. “You can’t seriously expect me to believe you made all those posts about him, said all those things, and didn’t mean it.”

“It was years ago!” you shouted, your voice shaking with anger. “It was a stupid, meaningless thing I did when I was bored and stuck at home. I wasn’t thinking—”

“Yeah, well, I’m thinking about it now,” he shot back, stepping closer. “Thinking about the way he looks at you, the way you let him flirt with you—”

“I don’t let him do anything!” you cut him off, your face hot with frustration. “Chris was just being Chris. I didn’t take it seriously, and neither should you!”

"Oh, come on," George scoffed, shaking his head, his jaw tight. "You're telling me there's nothing left from that ‘stupid crush’? That part of you doesn't like the attention?"

“George what the fuck is wrong with you?”

He paused for a moment, his eyes scanning your face as he exhales, forcefully biting his lip, enough to leave an indent. “Wrong with me? The only thing wrong with me is the fact I thought a relationship with a slut like you would ever work out.”

Your breath caught in your throat, his words slamming into you like a physical blow. A mix of shock and rage surged through you, your body stiffening as the full weight of what he’d just said sank in.

“What the fuck did you just say?” you fought back, your voice low and trembling, your hands curling into fists at your sides.

George’s jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling as he looked at you, his face hard and unreadable. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to take it back, but then his expression hardened again, his voice cutting.

“You heard me.”

“No.” You took a step forward, your anger blazing. “Say it again, George. I dare you.”

He stayed silent, his lips pressing into a thin line as his gaze flicked away from you, like he couldn’t bear to look at the fury in your eyes.

“You’re unbelievable,” you spat, your voice breaking slightly despite your best efforts. “After everything, after all the times I’ve told you how much I care about you, this is what you think of me?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t,” you snapped, cutting him off. “Don’t you fucking dare say you didn’t mean it. You don’t get to throw a word like that at me and act like it’s nothing.”

George finally looked at you, his eyes filled with something raw and painful that made your stomach twist. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice rough.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, George,” you shot back. “You don’t trust me. You don’t believe me when I say I don’t want Chris. And now you’re calling me a slut? What the hell is wrong with you?”

He raked a hand through his hair, frustration radiating off him in waves. “I don’t know, okay? I don’t fucking know! I just—”

“What?” you demanded, stepping even closer. “You just what? Go on, say it.”

His hands clenched at his sides, his voice rising. “I just hate the way he looks at you! The way he talks to you like he’s got a chance, like I’m not even in the fucking picture!”

You stared at him, your anger warring with confusion. “And that’s my fault? You think I encourage him?”

“I don’t know!” George burst out, his voice breaking. “I don’t know what to think anymore! I just—”

His words faltered as he looked at you, his eyes dark and stormy with emotions he didn’t know how to express.

“You just what?” you whispered, your voice quieter now but no less fierce.

He exhaled shakily, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I just— I can’t stand the thought of anyone else having you.”

You opened your mouth to respond, a mix of anger and confusion bubbling to the surface, but before you could even form a sentence, George surged forward. His lips crashed against yours, the force of it silencing any protest you might have had.

You froze for a second, startled by the suddenness of it, your mind spinning. But then his hands cupped your face, holding you in place, and the desperation in the kiss pulled you under.

It wasn’t sweet or careful—it was messy and raw, all teeth and tongue as he kissed you like he was trying to prove something. You hesitated, the weight of your unresolved argument hanging heavy, but then his hands slid to your waist, pulling you against him, and you gave in.

Your fingers fisted in the fabric of his shirt as you kissed him back, meeting his intensity with your own. It was chaotic, your breaths mingling as you stumbled together, his body pressing into yours until the edge of the bed hit the backs of your knees.

You fell back onto the mattress, George following without hesitation. His weight pinned you down as his lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, then lower, finding the soft curve of your neck. He kissed you there, the sensation sharp and hot.

His hands gripped your waist, sliding under your shirt just enough for his fingers to brush your bare skin. Every touch, every kiss felt frantic, like he was trying to erase the fight, the tension, and every trace of doubt you’d left between you.

“George…” you managed, your voice breaking as you tried to catch your breath, your fingers gripping his shoulders.

But he didn’t stop, didn’t let you finish. His lips pressed harder against your neck, his teeth biting down on your skin in a way that made you gasp.

“Don’t,” he muttered against your neck, his voice thick. “Don’t say anything right now.”

And so you didn’t. Instead, you let him keep going, the messy desperation between you spilling over as he kissed you like he needed you to understand exactly what he felt, whether or not he could find the words to say it.

George pinned your wrists to the sides of your head, his eyes blazing with a primal lust. Your arms landed on the soft sheets, your heart racing as he loomed over you, his body casting a shadow across your trembling form.

"You're mine," he growled, his voice thick with passion. "And I'm going to remind you of that."

With that, he took both your wrists in one hand, using the other to rip your shirt open, buttons flying across the room, exposing your breasts. His hands, rough and calloused, cupped your flesh, squeezing and kneading, causing you to arch your back and moan in pleasure.

"Oh, George..." you panted, your nipples hardening under his touch. "Please..."

He leaned down, his lips capturing one of your nipples, sucking and biting gently. His free hand trailed down your stomach, fingers tracing the outline of your underwear, teasing the damp fabric.

"You're so wet for me," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot on your sensitive breasts. "Tell me, who makes you feel like this?"

"You do," you whispered, your voice scratchy. "Only you, George. No one else can make me feel this way."

His hand slipped into your underwear, his fingers finding your throbbing clit, circling it and pressing down. You bucked against his touch, your hips rising off the bed, seeking more of his touch.

"That's right," he growled, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Only I can make you come like this. Only I can fuck you."

As his fingers worked, you felt your orgasm building quicker than usual, a tidal wave of pleasure threatening to consume you. Your body trembled, and you clutched at the sheets, desperate for release.

"Please, George..." you begged, your voice a mere whisper. "Make me come... I’m only yours."

George's fingers quickened their pace, his thumb pressing against your sensitivity. "Come for me, you little slut. Show me how much you want it."

The pleasure became unbearable, and with a cry, you climaxed, your body shaking every feeling of ecstasy washed over you. George's fingers continued their relentless touches, milking every last drop of pleasure from your quivering body.

As your orgasm subsided, George withdrew his hand, leaving you breathless and worthless. He stood at the edge of the bed, his eyes burning with a possessive gleam.

"Fuck, you really are desperate for someone to fuck you," he said, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Now, get on your knees, and show me how much you’re mine."

You didn't hesitate. You wanted to please him, to submit to his every desire. Slowly, you rose to your knees, your eyes locked on his, a silent promise to make him feel good.

George's cock, already hard and straining against his jeans, made your mouth water in desperation. You reached out, your fingers trembling as you unzipped his fly, eager to set it free. As his length sprang forth, you couldn't help but gasp at the sight.

"Suck it," he commanded, his voice rough. "Show me how much of a slut you are for me."

You leaned forward, your lips parting to take him in. His thick cock filled your mouth, and you moaned around it, the taste and feel of him driving you wild. George's hands gripped your hair, guiding your movements, controlling the pace.

"That's it, babygirl," he grunted, his hips thrusting gently as his tugged at your hair laced around his fingers. "Take it all, take me deep into your throat."

You obeyed, your mouth working faster as his commands spur you on, your tongue licking the slit on the top of his head, tasting his salty pre-cum. His hand moved from your hair to cradle your face in his large hand forcing you to look up at him through your eyelashes.

"You're such a good girl," he growled. "Make me come right down your throat."

You paused for a moment to take him out of your mouth letting his cock rest on your tongue. George's breathing became ragged, and you could feel his cock twitching in your mouth, a sure sign he was close to the edge. You wrapped your mouth around him once more, sucking eagerly as he thrusted aggressively into your wet mouth.

With a final, powerful motion, George came, his hot cum flooding your mouth. You swallowed proudly, savouring the taste of him. He held your head in place, his hips jerking as he emptied himself into your willing mouth.

As he withdrew, you looked up at him, your eyes shining with satisfaction as you licked your bottom lip of the last of him. George's face was that of pure love, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"You look so beautiful," he confessed, his voice husky. "You’re mine, you know that, only mine my love."

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a/n: thank you so much to @arthurhillmastermind for all your help on this fic !!

#george clarkey #george clarke #georgeclarkey #george clarke fics #george clarkey smut

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focusonkayjay · 3 days ago

Text

between the ride and the roses (3)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn, angst, smut, fluff

Word count: 3.8k

Series summary: There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.

Chapter Warnings: argument, jungkook is mean, OC is mean. both have high egos.

A/N: part 3 is here <3 i'm having sm fun writing this. also, i got this anonymous ask which stated i was using chat-gpt for my stories. i didn't like the tone of their message so i blocked them. however, i just want to say i have not used chat-gpt for my stories. i take time out of my day to type this story because i really want to put content out there that people might enjoy reading. i want to make stories that i have always wanted to read, but never found. truthfully, i did use chat gpt for the names of a few flowers, plants and bouquet combinations though, because i'm not a professional florist and i have no idea about flowers. i hope that's understandable. anyways, thank u for reading. let me know your thoughts :)

part 3: blooming grudges

The sun is setting, painting the street in hues of orange and pink, but the peace you’re so badly yearning for is shattered by the rumble of motorcycles and boisterous laughter right outside your shop. It’s been a week since Jungkook’s shop had started running and it has surprisingly quickly become a hotspot for bikers to gather in the evenings. The constant noise and chaos spill over into your once-quiet corner of the neighborhood.

You have no idea what they do and what the point of all these gatherings are, but you dread it every single time you hear a bunch of men lounging outside your shop.

As the evening progresses, you’re in the middle of arranging a bouquet when the sharp crash of breaking pottery jolts you out of your work. Heart pounding, you glance outside and see one of Jungkook’s biker friends near the sidewalk through your window. Still confused, you stand up and storm out to see what the hell had happened.

Anger surges through your veins as you spot the man casually standing there as if he didn’t just knock over one of your handmade ceramic pots off the display stand that was right outside your shop. “What the hell is wrong with you??!!?!” you snap, glaring at the man and then at the jagged pieces of your pot just lying there, near his feet.

The biker barely spares you a glance, shrugging nonchalantly. “Relax. It’s just a pot.” he says.

“Just a pot?” you repeat, your voice rising. “Do you have any idea how much time and effort went into that? Or do you only care about things you can rev or ride?” you feel your heart thumping as your anger skyrockets.

Before the man can respond, Jungkook suddenly steps out of the crowd near his shop. His leather jacket gleams in the fading light, and his dark eyes flicker to the broken pot before landing on you. “What’s going on?” he questions, his voice low and calm, but there’s an edge of warning to it.

You point at the shards of pottery. “What’s going on? One of your friends just broke my pot and doesn’t even have the decency to apologize!” Jungkook looks at his friend, who just shrugs, then back at you. “It was an accident.” he dismisses, his tone clipped. “I’ll pay for it.” he continues and you watch his friend just leave the scene, completely unbothered.

You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “Pay for it? Do you think that solves everything? This isn’t just about the pot, Jungkook. Every night, this street turns into a circus because of your shop. My customers can’t park anymore, and now your friends are trashing my things.” you begin, moving your hands as you speak, unable to remain calm anymore.

His jaw tightens, and he takes a step closer. “Look, I’m sorry about the pot, but don’t act like I’m the reason your shop isn’t doing well. Maybe it’s not the noise. Maybe people just don’t care about overpriced flowers.”

Your breath catches, his words cutting deeper than you expect. “Wow,” you say, your voice trembling with anger. “You really think you’re better than everyone, don’t you? Just because you’ve got your flashy bikes and your little gang of followers?” you ignore the way your heart twitches at how he had just disrespected you and your business.

His expression hardens. “Better than everyone? No. But at least I’m not the one blaming other people for my problems. You’re so focused on what’s wrong with my shop, but maybe the issue isn’t me. Maybe it’s you.”

Your fists clench at your sides. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve been here for years, building this business from the ground up. And you waltz in, turning this neighborhood into a mess, and act like you’re doing everyone a favor?” you see red as you fight with him, unable to contain the flow of words that are spilling out of your mouth.

Jungkook’s voice sharpens and he doesn’t hold back. “You think I don’t work hard? That I haven’t sacrificed everything to make this shop work? You don’t know anything about me. But sure, keep throwing stones from your little glass house.” he counters harshly.

“Oh so you can say anything about my business, but i can’t? You can talk about me like you know me, but i can’t?” There’s venom in your voice as you argue and Jungkook clenches his jaw, trying to calm himself down.

The tension between the two of you is suffocating and each word cuts like a blade. As an awkward silence fills the air, you shake your head. “You’re unbelievable.” you breathily say. “You don’t care about anyone but yourself.” you add.

“And you...” he fires back, “care so much about your damn shop that you can’t see past your own damn ego.” You look at him with your lips parted, unable to come up with a comeback. You feel your eyes sting and nothing makes sense anymore. You hate it here. You hate him.

Before you can respond, one of the bikers calls out to Jungkook, and he turns away, his shoulders tense. He doesn’t bother looking back at you and just leaves.

Fuming, you crouch down to pick up the broken shards of your pot. Your hands tremble as you scoop up the jagged pieces, and a sharp piece slices right through your finger. You hiss, dropping the shard as blood wells up from the cut. Your eyes tear up as you watch your finger bleed. You were so done with this man and his stupid shop.

Ignoring the sting, you finish cleaning up and head back inside, pressing a tissue to your finger. You flip the sign on your door, deciding to call it a day since you weren’t really in the mood to face any new customers. You retreat to your counter, where you slump into your chair, frustrated, exhausted and seething.

Inside Throttle and Torque, the atmosphere is much quieter, now that the bikers have left. Jungkook leans against the counter, his expression stormy as he thinks of the interaction he had with you 4 hours ago. Yoongi, Jimin, and Hoseok sit nearby, watching him with varying degrees of curiosity and amusement.

“You look like you’re about to punch something.” Jimin says, breaking the silence. Jungkook scoffs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s that flower shop owner again. She’s impossible.”

“Y/N?” Hoseok grins. “What did she do this time?” he questions. Jungkook glares at him. “One of the guys broke her pot, and she went off like it was the end of the world. Then she starts blaming me for everything—says I’m ruining the whole street. Like it’s my fault her shop isn’t getting customers.” he speaks, his tone filled with annoyance.

“Isn’t it, though?” Jimin teases, earning a sharp look from Jungkook. Yoongi, raises an eyebrow. “Sounds like there’s more to it than just a pot.” he states.

“She doesn’t get it hyung...” Jungkook says, his voice growing louder. “She acts like she’s the only one who works hard, like I haven’t busted my ass to get this place running. And then she has the nerve to call me selfish? Like she knows anything about me.”

“Sounds like she hit a nerve.” Hoseok snorts, a smirk on his face. “Shut up,” Jungkook mutters, but the irritation in his voice betrays him. “She thinks she’s so perfect, but all she does is complain. It’s like she’s looking for reasons to hate me.” he rolls his eyes.

“Maybe she is.” Yoongi says, his tone thoughtful. “Or maybe you’ve already given her enough reasons to hate you.” he continues. The room falls silent, and Jungkook scoffs, pushing off the counter. “Whatever. She’s not worth it.” he dismisses, not wanting to think of you or the raging encounter he just had with you.

the next day; The morning sun spills through the large windows of your flower shop as you rearrange a fresh batch of chrysanthemums. Despite the beautiful blooms around you, there’s a heaviness in your heart. Last night’s argument with Jungkook replays in your mind, his sharp words still stinging.

The little bell above the door jingles, pulling you out from your trance. You turn to see a man walking in—a face you recognize from the group that always lingers outside Jungkook’s shop and sometimes with him as well. “Hi.” he says, his voice calm but kind. “Y/N, right?”

You blink in surprise. “Yeah… and you’re one of Jungkook’s friends, i suppose.” you say, moving away from the flowers as dry your hands on your apron. You notice how his eyes fall on the bandage wrapped around your finger, so you quickly hide it by crossing your arms over your chest. He pretends like he’s seen nothing and nods, his hands tucked into the pockets of his leather jacket. “I’m Yoongi. I came here because I wanted to talk to you, if you don’t mind.” he says, his voice tender.

Your instinct is to put up a wall, but something about his tone disarms you. “If this is about last night—”

“It is.” Yoongi interrupts gently. “But not in the way you think.” He steps closer, his gaze steady but non-threatening. “I’m here to apologize. On behalf of Jungkook. And… the idiot who broke your pot.”

You blink again, caught off guard. “You’re apologizing? Why?” you gulp, something about this, not sitting right with you. “Because he won’t.” Yoongi says with a faint smile, though his tone carries a hint of seriousness. “Jungkook’s stubborn. He knows he messed up, but he’s too proud to admit it outright. And, well, someone has to try to make things right.” he admits, blinking his eyes.

Yoongi observes your expression, noticing how you still look quite unconvinced. His face softens as he continues. “Jungkook’s not a bad guy, Y/N. He just… rough around the edges. Give him time. He doesn’t always know how to handle things. He gets defensive when he feels cornered.”

“Cornered?” you echo, frowning. “I wasn’t cornering him. I just wanted some peace.” you defend yourself. “I know.” Yoongi agrees. “And I think, deep down, he knows it too. But he’s been under a lot of pressure with the shop, and sometimes he lashes out without meaning to. Not that it excuses anything.” he adds quickly. “You didn’t deserve what he said. Or how he treated you. ”

His honesty surprises you, and for the first time, you feel a part of the weight lift off from your chest. “Why are you telling me this?” you suddenly ask, eyeing him even though, deep down you’re trying your best to believe everything this man says.

“Because I think you’re both better than this petty back-and-forth... interactions.” Yoongi says simply, shrugging. “And maybe, if you understand where he’s coming from, it’ll help. Or not. I don’t know. I just thought you deserved an actual apology, even if it’s not from him directly.” he finishes, flashing you a small, kind smile.

For a moment, you’re silent, processing his words. Then, to your own surprise, you smile faintly. “You’re a good friend, Yoongi.” you softly say, earning a chuckle from him as he scratches the back of his neck. “Someone’s gotta keep him in check.” he grins.

After a moment, he steps back towards the door, pausing before leaving. “Take care, Y/N. And if he steps out of line again, let me know. I’ll knock some sense into him.” he nods at you and you laugh lightly, the sound easing some of the tension in the room. “I’ll keep that in mind.” you say, waving at him.

Jungkook sits on the edge of the counter, a wrench in hand, intently focused as he works while Jimin, Hoseok, and Yoongi lounge around. The conversation flows between them, lighthearted at first, until Yoongi brings up his visit to your shop.

“So....” Yoongi begins casually, “I stopped by Y/N’s shop today.” he says. Jungkook freezes for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “What for?” he asks, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“To apologize.” Yoongi replies, leaning back in his chair. “On your behalf. Figured someone had to.” he adds. Jimin snickers, while Hoseok whistles low. “Apologizing for Jungkook? That’s new.” he laughs as Jimin gives him a high five.

“Very funny.” Jungkook mutters, but his attention stays on Yoongi. “What’d she say?” he questions and Yoongi shrugs. “She wasn’t exactly thrilled to hear your name, but we talked. She’s not as tough as she seems, you know. She’s just… tired. Your shop and the noise—it’s really messing with her.” he explains calmly.

Jungkook doesn’t reply, his jaw tightening. “And she’s hurt, by the way.” Yoongi adds, his tone sharper. “I noticed her hand. I guess she cut her finger while picking up the broken pieces of the pot your friend broke yesterday.” he explains.

The guilt that had been simmering in Jungkook since last night, suddenly boils over. “Why didn’t she say anything?” he snaps, more to himself than to his friends. “Maybe because you were too busy arguing with her to notice,” Yoongi retorts, his voice calm but firm. “She’s not your enemy, Jungkook. Stop treating her like one.” he says gently, hoping the younger one understands.

The room goes quiet, the weight of Yoongi’s words settling over them. Jimin and Hoseok exchange a glance, sensing the tension. Jungkook exhales heavily, tossing the wrench aside. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.” he admits quietly. “I just—” He stops, frustration lacing his voice.

“You don’t know how to back down,” Jimin finishes for him, a teasing edge to his tone. Jungkook glares at him but doesn’t deny it. Instead, he leans back against the counter, running a hand through his hair. “What else did she say to you?” he questions Yoongi. He smirks slightly. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he asks, wiggling his brows.

Jungkook’s glare intensifies, and Yoongi chuckles. “Relax. She was civil. We just talked about you a little and that’s all. She thinks I’m the ‘good friend,’ by the way.” he smiles to himself.

The comment makes Jungkook’s stomach churn with something he doesn’t want to name—guilt, jealousy, maybe both. He stays quiet as the others laugh, his thoughts swirling.

He’s messed up, and he knows it. And now, the thought of you opening up to someone else, even Yoongi, twists something deep inside him. For the first time, he wonders if the damage he’s caused can ever be repaired.

It’s just another day—or at least you hope it will be. After the pot-breaking incident a week ago, things between you and Jungkook have only grown tenser. Though Yoongi apologized to you on behalf of his actions, you were still very annoyed by the way things still hadn’t changed.

His friends still gather outside his shop in the evenings, their bikes parked so close to your store it’s nearly impossible for customers to walk in without squeezing past them. You’ve been trying to keep your head down, avoiding any unnecessary interaction with Jungkook.

However, despite the ongoing tension you can’t help but notice how hardworking Jungkook is. For a brief moment, you feel a twinge of guilt as you think about the bad blood between you guys. Maybe you need to start putting your differences aside and try to get along with him.

You shake your head, telling yourself not to think about that. You leave that thought for another day, when you’re less busy and have more time to waste.

A new shipment of flowers and pots arrives after about an hour. You’re juggling the chaos of directing the delivery workers when disaster strikes. One of the crates slips from a worker’s hands, scattering flowers and dirt all across the curb—and, unfortunately, onto one of the shiny motorcycles parked outside Jungkook’s shop.

You barely have time to assess the mess before Jungkook storms out. His face is a mask of irritation, and his voice cuts like a blade. “What the hell is this?” he immediately snaps, gesturing at the scattered soil and dirt-streaked bike.

You sigh, already bracing yourself. “It was an accident. We’ll clean it up right away.” you calmly say, knowing damn well this wasn’t something you were about to get to away with. “An accident?” he repeats, his tone laced with disbelief. “You really need to start taking responsibility, Y/N. You can’t just keep saying it’s an accident every time you screw something up.” he angrily says.

Your frustration bubbles over. “Excuse me? This is the first time I’ve caused any inconvenience to you. Meanwhile, your friends park their bikes outside my shop every evening, blocking the entrance, and I don’t say a thing!” you argue.

“Oh, here we go...” Jungkook retorts, his voice rising. “You’re always whining about the bikes. Maybe if you managed your deliveries better, this wouldn’t have happened.” he scoffs loudly.

“Don’t turn this on me!!” you snap, stepping closer. “You act like this street belongs to you and your gang of bikers. Maybe if you had a little consideration for others, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation!” you stomp your feet at the last word, wanting this interaction to just end. But were you going to be the first one to stop? no.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think he might say something even harsher. But he just shakes his head, his expression dark. “You know what? Forget it. Clean up your mess and stay out of my way.” He coldly says as he turns around and walks back into his shop, leaving you standing there with your hands clenched into fists.

After the chaos of the day, you’re sitting in your shop long after closing time, staring blankly at the broken pieces of another pot that lays lifeless on a piece of paper on your counter —a casualty of the earlier mishap. You close your eyes, feeling an overwhelming sense of exhaustion.

Yoongi’s voice echoes in your mind from the other day, when he’d come into your shop to apologize on Jungkook’s behalf after the first pot-breaking incident. “Jungkook’s not a bad guy.” Yoongi had said, his voice calm and reassuring. “He’s just… rough around the edges. Give him time.”

You had wanted to believe him. For a moment, you even thought there might be a chance for you and Jungkook to coexist peacefully. But now? Now you feel stupid for ever entertaining the idea. Jungkook has made it perfectly clear that he has no intention of meeting you halfway.

You sigh, rubbing your face. You didn’t like how this whole thing had been affecting you. It was draining and just sooooo not worth it.

Forcing yourself to get up, you clean up one last time and then proceed to lock up the shop, so that you can finally head home. As you begin your walk home, you notice how the streets are quiet, the faint hum of distant traffic is the only sound accompanying your footsteps.

Your thoughts are heavy, clouded by everything that’s happened. The arguments, the pot-breaking, the way Jungkook’s words today had stung more than you wanted to admit. You wonder if you’re overthinking things, but the lump in your throat says otherwise.

You hug your jacket tighter against the cool night air, eyes focused on the pavement in front of you as you walk briskly towards your house.

Jungkook stands outside his shop, ready to lock up he watches you walk down the stairs at your entrance and cross the road, not noticing his presence at all. His chest feels tight, an unfamiliar mix of guilt and something he can’t quite name. He doesn’t like how things escalated today. He doesn’t like the way your voice cracked when you argued with him.

As much as he hates to admit it, he knows he’s been unfair. It wasn’t just about the dirt on the bike or the delivery mishap—it was the way you stood up to him, pointing out how inconsiderate he and his friends had been. You weren’t wrong.

He steps away from his shop, just to get a clearer view of your walking form. He watches intently, observing the way your shoulders are hunched slightly as if the weight of the world rests on them. The sight stirs something protective in him. It’s late, the streets are too quiet, and he knows better than anyone the kind of dangers that can lurk around in the dark.

For a split second, he considers calling out to you so that he can offer you a ride home. But then his pride kicks in, the argument from earlier replaying in his head. His ego won’t let him take that step—not yet.

Instead, Jungkook makes a quick decision. He leaves his bike parked outside his shop, shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket, and starts following you from a distance. You walk briskly, your mind elsewhere, completely unaware of the quiet footsteps trailing behind you. Jungkook keeps his distance, making sure to stay out of your line of sight.

His gaze scans the dimly lit street, the quiet unnerving even to him. He can’t help but feel protective as he watches your small frame move through the shadowy paths. Every now and then, he glances around, hyper-aware of his surroundings.

He follows you for several blocks, his pace matching yours but always a few steps behind. When you pause to adjust the strap of your bag or check the time on your phone, he stops, leaning casually against a lamppost or pretending to examine something in a shop window.

You finally reach your building, pausing to fumble with your keys at the front door. Jungkook stays back, watching as you disappear inside. Only when he hears the click of the door locking do his shoulders relax slightly. He lets out a long breath, rubbing his nape as he turns to head back towards his shop.

As he walks back, his mind is restless. He thinks he’s ridiculous for following you all the way home just to make sure you reach safely. “Why do you care so much?” he mutters to himself, kicking a loose pebble on the sidewalk. But he already knows the answer, even if he’s not ready to admit it.

When he finally reaches his shop, his bike still waiting where he left it, Jungkook glances once more in the direction of your shop. A strange mixture of guilt and something warmer lingers in his chest. He doesn’t know what to do about it, so he just sighs, climbs onto his bike, and decides to head home.

While he rides back home that night, a quiet resolve settles in his chest—a growing realization that maybe, just maybe, he owes you more than just a silent apology.

<- part 2 // part 4->

#jungkook fic #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #bts #bts jungkook #bts fic #enemies to lovers #jungkook fanfiction

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fairiesthrum · 12 hours ago

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Can I be 🧚‍♀️ anon if it's not taken pls!! And ok... what are your thoughts on cult leader Geto? 🫣🫣

🎀 — OFC U CAN BE FAIRY ANON AHAKSJAUSJ

and abt cult leader geto hmmmm (incoming yap session y’all)

ngl, i expect his wife to absolutely HATE his guts. like i’m talking melania trump core (i made a small post abt this before).

i can just imagine some young woman from a powerful clan being forced to marry some weirdo obsessed with monkeys (cuz yes, you genuinely didn’t know what he was talking abt when he said monkeys and thought he was insane in the beginning. well, you still think he’s crazy).

i would describe suguru’s wife to be the “nonchalant” kind, very elegant, just cares abt that bag and living a good life.

you have no interest in sexual relations with him at first (though he was super hot and that’s what pushed you to agree to the marriage in the first place), and neither does he (the both of you actually sleep in separate rooms). suguru only married you to gain support and followers so all you had to do was make appearances beside him, sit pretty, act like everything is fine, and spend the rest of your life not having to lift a finger whilst gawking at your husband’s dashing looks. easy enough, right?

wrong. you actually end up learning he’s a cult leader through these strange meetings (yeah, your parents forgot to fill you in abt that part).

it sets you off (like fr mom and dad? a cult leader??) and you become more irritated with him and everything he does as the days pass. you start acting like an entirely different person, smacking his hand away when he tries to hold it in public, opting to clutch onto your designer purse instead. and geto just stands there with a close-eyed smile, laughing it off.

you couldn’t even stand to look at him. you married a psycho obsessed with killing non-sorcerers. but what could you do? your parents basically sold you to him, so the smartest thing you could think of in terms of fighting back was to just not listen to him. it’s really awkward for the people around you both when you’re constantly acting like a bitch and geto sits there with a tight smile while everyone else in the room shares concerned and nervous glances.

nowadays, all you ever really did was grovel abt your terrible life while wearing your designer clothes and wiping your tears with the designer handkerchief that you pull out of your designer handbag #richpplproblems

but suguru brushes off your behavior all the time, he assumes you were having trouble adjusting even though it’s been two months and you acted pretty normal in the beginning of your marriage. so he doesn’t do anything abt your attitude… until you really embarrass him.

it ends up with him dragging you into his bedroom, seething and red-faced. it was totally unlike your calm and collected husband, and you were smug that you’ve finally gotten a reaction. it placated something inside you, a part that was desperate for revenge cuz you were stuck in this god awful marriage.

he notices the change in your eyes, and then the both of you go back and forth, yelling and screaming. until he slams his lips onto yours, shutting you up.

clothes are ripped off and then the next thing you know, both of you fuck on your marriage bed for the first time while gasping out between moans abt how much you can’t stand each other.

just a bunch of hate fucking and then acting normal and back to snide remarks the next day until it happens again… and again… and again.

cause both of you are scared to admit you enjoy the steamy sex and the fact you’ve started having feelings for each other since you’re both stubborn. so, the two of you just find an excuse to fuck all the time.

anyways, that’s my take on cult leader geto ₓₓ

#ihatemybf #@🧚‍♀️ nonnie #💌 letters #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #suguru x reader #jjk headcanons #geto headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #geto smut

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le-fruit-de-la-passion · 2 days ago

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Does a bad ending ruin a good story? A comprehensive guide to my feelings on the Arcane finale

*Spoilers for Arcane season 2*

So. You just finished the show, and you're staring at the screen in bewilderment. Perhaps you’re even with some friends, shouting words of confusion to the rolling credits. Try as you might, you can barely hear them, because a single thought echoes in your mind and pushes away any other:

“What the fuck just happened?”

If this happened to you, then boy oh boy, we're on the same boat. If it didn't, well, I'm glad for you friend! We might not have been looking for the same things from this story. But this is my post, meaning I will give my opinions (which are objectively correct because this is my blog and I'm the mayor here) on everything that Arcane broke and failed to deliver in its last 2 episodes.

Let's start with characters, and why none of it mattered.

Jinx symbolized the fear we all have of not belonging somewhere, of not having anything to call home or anyone to call a family. Her anger stemmed from wanting to carve a place in a society and a world that had so harshly rejected her (i.e., Vi leaving her). Her existence was a huge middle finger to all that refused to let her live, a fight to build herself something wholeheartedly hers (hence her being an inventor). It was proof that despite the world telling her she was better off dead, she would never stop fighting to prove it wrong.

… and she died.

She died, and that means all the suffering she went through to exist simply amounted to nothing. She left nothing behind either, no trace of a legacy, something that would have left her mark on that world. Isha, the child she raised as a daughter, died. Silco, who she taught love and care to, died. Vander, who she brought back from years of trauma and torture, died. Jinx fought so hard to live, and in the end, it was as if she hadn't lived at all.

Viktor is most certainly the character that made me the angriest, because of how attached I am to the person he is in season 1 (and even the first two acts of season 2 to an extent). Everything that made him so beautifully complex… gone, in about 10 minutes. There was NO reason to make him the surprise ultimate villain. Viktor had always, always been a pacificist. That's why he was so adamant Hextech not be used as a weapon. That's why every time there were chances to test hextech to hurt, he tried to learn how it could heal. Yes, his fusion with the hexcore had changed him; but NOT into a man who didn't care for human life. He wanted to help all the hurt done to his people. People like him, living day to day in the undercity, but who had never gotten a chance to crawl out of their hell. His community was about HEALING, not controlling. The very IDEA that he would accept killing innocents and ally with Noxus, the warmongers, is so ridiculous I could genuinely laugh if it didn't make me so angry. The show needed an easy, black-and-white showdown to conclude a story that would have needed so much more time to tell. And they chose Viktor. Because it was the easy way out. It was the perfect foil to the return of the Golden Boy. And that PISSES me off.

There is this really shitty concept in popular media that the handicapped/chronically ill character is always in the pursuit of being “cured” and that they need outside help to realize “that their imperfections make them perfect”. Fuck. You. As someone with chronic illness and who just finished beating blood cancer, fuck you. That realization, that you're you with every part of your being, even the ‘bad’ ones, cannot come from outside. It's YOU who needs to learn it. It's you who needs to discover how your body and your mind are so much stronger than you previously thought them to be. Not your lover, your family, your friends, or God forbid your able-bodied lab partner. You. Others may tell you as many times as they want your illness doesn't define you; it won't matter until you, yourself, have understood why and have accepted it. Having someone swoop in and “fix” Viktor with a “you don't have to change uwu” is just….. so reductive I can barely find the words for it. That was VIKTOR’S path to find, and not Jayce’s role to find it for him.

Also… Viktor wasn't trying to ‘fix’ his leg; he was trying to find a cure to a deadly illness ravaging his body and no doubt the bodies of many in Zaun. The HELL is the message here??? That he should have just rolled with it because the deadly illness was part of him??? Again, as a cancer survivor. Fuck right off.

Of course, I can't just ignore the hideous get-up they put him in at the end. The man who laughed at Jayce's narcissism….you want me to believe… he would put on that fucking edge lord costume and not DIE of embarrassment??? The design makes no sense from a narrative standpoint either: if his cane has become the sceptre, why is he still keeping it? He doesn't need it anymore to walk, and it's a reminder of his weaknesses as a human that he apparently hated so much. Why the hell does he keep it then? And the hexclaw. Where did that bad boy come out from?? Did you all see a secret extra bonus scene where he steals it from the lab, because I sure didn't. It doesn't add anything to his sets of powers either it’s… it's a fucking laser gun. WHY. And oh sweet god that mask… there would have been so many ways of designing a mask more meaningful than the one from LoL. This one is just. A piece of metal he spawned in embryo. Get it? Because he's made of metal now and also hiding his face means no more humanity? Get it?? Of fucking course you do, because this was the easiest and worst possible way they could have integrated the mask.

Viktor and Jayce had a fantastic dynamic in that Viktor had started out as the loner, the underdog scientist from the slums; while Jayce was the leader figure, living in comfort that made him attachingly naive, his face plastered on posters stroking his ego. The shift is delightfully slow, as Viktor gains in confidence and determination to see his invention through no matter what, while Jayce is confronted with harsher and harsher truths about the world he so blissfully ignored. By Act 2, they have fully switched roles: Viktor is now the leader figure, a symbol of the future for the people, while Jayce is desperately alone, both physically in the hexcore anomaly, and mentally in being the only one who has seen the devastating future. Excellent stuff. What would be a great way to push these parallels further and to show the complexity of these characters, and perhaps how they can balance each other out? Well, Fortiche sure didn't know, now Viktor is the bad bad guy and Jayce is mister hero. Zaun bad, Piltover good. All nuance, gone. Proving that indeed, the man from poverty and inequality turns out evil, while the one from comfort and wealth turns out to be the hero of the story. The whole “giving a warm speech to the bad villain about how you care for them, somehow immediately changing their ways, and dying together to save the world” can work well in shounen anime where friendship is magic, or in the Ben 10 live-action movie (yes, that's the plot, I thought that wasn't deep when I was like 7 years old so imagine now), but not in a show like Arcane. Not with the ethical and moral nuances they have accustomed us to.

And now, let's explore...

Plotholes and incomplete storylines galore.

Ekko’s tree and the contamination of Zaun from Piltover? Fuck that. The huge showdown between the two opposite yet sister cities, like Jinx and Vi, that has been built up for two seasons? Fuck that. And for what?

For the Noxus sequel teaser.

Mel’s plotline about finding her mage origins had NOTHING to do with the main plot. Absolutely nothing. It added 0 twists or intrigues to the story, and served no purpose except making her a deus ex machina for a broken ending. All it was there for was to lay the base for a following show on Noxus and the Black Rose. Time that could have been spent either giving Mel a proper arc related to the plot, or giving all the other rushed character arcs more development.

Finally, and I deeply regret having to say this, but… the end of Vi and Cait's relationship was majorly disappointing to me. As an LGBTQ+ person myself, who feels attraction to women, it was a delight to have such a realistically portrayed w/w relationship on screen. Popular media tends to portray m/m relationships as these doomed, sinful feelings between two repressed guys, while w/w relationships are shown to just be all sunshine and rainbows and teddy bears, because two women together are a cute little accessory to have on screen. It’s non-threatening. But not Cait and Vi; their bond was raw, and rocky, with violent lows and passionate highs in a world that seemed to want to keep them apart. Their separation and the introduction of Maddie showed the reality of a w/w relationship, where fights and cheating ARE things that happen, because they're two adult women with different beliefs, objectives, an trauma. Putting them back together, as if nothing had happened, without giving us anything about how their relationship would have evolved from the breakup? I'd never thought I'd say this, but it's too easy. How about Caitlyn's literal descent into fascism??? We’ll just ignore that? Vi will just ignore that?

As with everything else, this last part of Arcane destroys all the complex emotions that exist between these characters, the resentment, the anger, the frustration, built upon years of different social conditioning… gone. Because they had 2 episodes left to wrap it up, and there was no way to make a coherent and natural transition to them getting back together with that kind of time. And can I just say. The decision to have Vi, symbol of Zaun, go down on Caitlyn, symbol of Piltover and enforcers, in a prison cell that has held innocent Zaunites and represents their complete lack of freedom as individuals by a cop state that oppresses them….. yeah, bad. So bad.

And… the multiverse. Yup, they went the multiverse route. Now, that's not necessarily a bad thing: the concept of multiverses itself is interesting in a vacuum, and quite a few properties have managed to make it work coherently. But it has been terribly overused and bastardized in serialized content in the last few years, for the simple reason that it's extremely practical. Why make a new, original series when you already have worlds and characters that are developed, and come with built-in fans? It's a money-saving hack! Why dedicate yourself to an ending that is meaningful in its finality and wraps the story properly when you can just say “It's just one ending in the multiverse!”. It takes away any accountability to the fans, and leaves the door open to a potential other version of the story! The perfect combo!

…except in practice, it comes off as lazy in a medium where that trope is overly saturated (don't start me on Marvel), and like a cowardly way of escaping from the responsibility of really taking the time to craft a good, solid ending to end your story.

So, with all that said: does it ruin Arcane for me? No, absolutely not, and I don’t think it should be for you either. The intricate artistry and raw talent that went into making the first season (and I would say a majority of the two first acts of season 2) is undeniable, and will stay undeniable. Nothing can touch that story. It will forever be one of my favourite pieces of animated media, which is saying a lot because I'm currently getting my master's degree on that topic.

However, it does give Arcane, as a whole rather than two separate seasons/entities, a very bittersweet feeling that is hard to forget. Thinking of what could have been, just if a little more time had been given to the minds behind the masterpiece you so loved… it's its own form of heartbreak. Academics have even compared it to experiencing a form of death of a loved one, before they ever got to reach their fullest potential and live the life they deserved. It may sound dramatic, but the feelings you feel in this moment, watching the horrible end of a fiction you have so much love for, are real. No one can take those away from you. You're allowed to grieve the loss of something that meant a lot to you.

Tldr; No, Arcane is not a bad series because of its rushed and incomprehensible ending. As they say, it's all about the journey, not the destination, even if that's one of the parts we tend to remember the most. And I don't know about you, but this was one of the best journeys I've ever been on.

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acute-crashout-jeyuso · 3 days ago

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Sacrifices/ BTR Book 2: a Jhea fanfic.

Chapter 17: Preparations..

Jey took Jeyce up to his room, the silence between them growing heavier with each step. Once inside, they both sat down on Jeyce’s bed. Jey leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and took a deep, steadying breath.

Jey finally broke the silence, his tone calm but firm. “Jeyce, I want you to know something. I’m happy for you—finding your first girlfriend, feeling all these new things—that’s part of growing up.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “But what you did tonight? Sneaking out, lying to us, and crossing boundaries in someone else’s house? That’s not how we raised you.”

Jeyce kept his head low, fiddling with the edge of his bedsheet, unable to meet his father’s gaze.

“To be a man,” Jey continued, his voice softer now, “you have to respect people’s boundaries. Mr. Bartley? That’s Demi’s father. That’s his home, his rules. And you didn’t just disrespect him—you disrespected Demi too by putting her in that kind of situation.”

Jeyce swallowed hard, the lump in his throat growing. “I—I didn’t mean to, Dad,” he mumbled.

Jey sighed deeply, placing a hand on Jeyce’s shoulder. “I know you didn’t. But intentions don’t erase actions, son. What matters is that you learn from this. And tonight… tonight, I’m just really disappointed in you.”

Jeyce flinched at the words, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. “I’m sorry, Dad. I really am.”

Jey pulled him into a hug, his strong arms wrapping around his son. “I know you are, Jeyce. And this doesn’t change the fact that I love you, no matter what. But love means teaching you when you’re wrong, even when it’s hard.”

Jeyce sniffled, his small hands gripping the back of his father’s shirt. “I’ll do better, Dad. I promise.”

Jey nodded, pulling back to look him in the eyes. “That’s all I need to hear..”

“Love you dad..” Jeyce replied, his voice barely audible.

Jey kiss his son’s forehead and a small but encouraging smile breaking through his stern expression. “Alright, get some rest. You’ve got some work to do to earn back our trust, but I know you can do it.”

As Jeyce nodded and climbed under his covers, Jey stood up, glancing around the room before heading toward the door. He paused, looking back at his son. “Goodnight, buddy.”

“Goodnight, Dad,” Jeyce replied, his voice tinged with a mix of relief and guilt.

Jey closed the door softly behind him, leaning against the hallway wall for a moment. He exhaled deeply, shaking his head. “Puberty.” he muttered to himself before heading downstairs to debrief with Rhea.

As Jey walked down the stairs, he noticed Liv and Dom had returned and were sitting comfortably on the couch with Rhea. She was mid-laugh at something Liv had said, and when she saw Jey enter, she smiled and held her arms out. Jey walked over, sinking into the seat beside her and pulling her into his embrace.

Dom leaned forward, a curious look on his face. “So… how’d the talk go?”

Jey rolled his eyes dramatically, letting out a small groan. “Puberty.”

The room erupted in laughter, even Jey cracking a small grin at his own frustration. Just as the laughter died down, the front door opened, and Jaciyah stepped inside, still wearing his work uniform. Jey’s eyes immediately honed in on him, noticing something unusual. “Why’s your uniform so clean?” Jey asked, narrowing his gaze.

Jaciyah froze for a moment, then shrugged, trying to play it cool. “It was an easy shift, that’s all,” he replied, a goofy smile spreading across his face. Without waiting for further questions, he quickly made his way up the stairs toward his room.

Jey watched his eldest son disappear, suspicion tugging at the back of his mind. “What was that all about?” he muttered.

Dom leaned back, crossing his arms with a knowing smirk. “Man, I know that look.”

Jey turned toward him, raising a brow. “What look?”

Dom’s smirk widened as he replied, “Oh, he either had his first drink or… was deflowered.”

Jey’s eyes widened in shock, his mind racing. His gaze shot back to the staircase, his jaw tightening as realization began to sink in.

Rhea noticed his trance-like state and placed a hand on his arm. “Babe… babe…” she called, her voice soothing but firm as she tried to snap him out of it.

Jey blinked, finally looking at her. “You think Dom’s right?” he asked, his voice laced with both disbelief and concern.

Rhea shrugged, her lips twitching as if fighting back a smile. “It’s possible. But maybe don’t go interrogating him just yet, okay?”

Dom chuckled, nudging Liv playfully. “Jey’s about to pull out a flashlight and ask where his son was at 7:03 p.m. on a Friday night.”

The room burst into laughter again, but Jey didn’t join in this time. He was too busy staring at the stairs, debating whether or not to march up there and demand answers.

“Babe,” Rhea said again, pulling his focus back to her. “Let it go for now. He’s growing up. He’ll come to you when he’s ready.”

Jey let out a long sigh, leaning back into the couch. “What am I going to do? Take up drinking?”

Liv grinned, raising her glass of water in a mock toast. “Amen to that.”

Dom laughed, chiming in. “Just wait until you and Rhea’s kid hit their teen years. You’ll be wishing for the good old days.”

Jey groaned at the thought, shaking his head. “Don’t even joke about that.”

The group laughed, and slowly, the tension in Jey’s shoulders eased. He decided, for now, to let Jaciyah have his moment—whatever it was—and enjoy the rest of the evening with Rhea and their friends.

—

As Dom and Liv called it a night, Jey and Rhea followed suit. The weight of the evening still hung in the air, but there was a sense of relief in the quiet. Rhea had retreated to the bathroom for a shower, and Jey knew this was his chance to talk to Jaciyah.

Jey took a deep breath as he walked up the stairs. The house was quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioning, and Jey could hear the distant sound of water running from Rhea’s shower. He paused outside Jaciyah’s door, his mind already racing with what he was going to say.

He knocked softly.

“Come in,” Jaciyah’s voice came from inside, calm yet with a hint of uncertainty.

Jey opened the door, taking a moment to gather himself before walking inside. His eyes scanned the room briefly—Jaciyah was sitting at his desk, papers scattered in front of him, but he wasn’t really focused. His son had that look on his face, the same one Jey had worn at his age when he was trying to pretend everything was fine, but his mind was running a mile a minute.

“So,” Jey began, his voice steady but with a quiet intensity. “What’s going on with you?”

Jaciyah didn’t look up immediately. He shifted a bit in his chair, his fingers tapping nervously on the desk. Jey knew it wasn’t just the homework that was on his mind.

“Nothing, just finishing up some work,” Jaciyah replied, avoiding eye contact.

Jey walked further into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, not taking his eyes off of his son as he noticed the all to familiar mark. God damnit Jaciyah.. He had to be direct, but he also wanted to make sure Jaciyah didn’t feel cornered. This wasn’t about catching him in a lie, it was about understanding what was happening in his life.

Jey sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I see the hickey, Jaciyah.”

Jaciyah froze. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the soft buzz of the air conditioning. Then Jaciyah slowly turned to face his father, his expression a mixture of embarrassment and guilt.

“I—I didn’t mean for you to see that,” Jaciyah muttered.

Jey held up a hand, trying to ease the tension. “Son, it’s not about the hickey. It’s about understanding what you’re getting yourself into.” He leaned forward, looking at Jaciyah seriously. “You’re growing up fast, and I know things can feel overwhelming, but you need to know something—there’s a lot more to relationships than just feeling good in the moment.”

Jaciyah shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I know, Dad. It’s just—when you like someone, you don’t really think about anything else, you know?”

Jey nodded slowly, understanding exactly where his son was coming from. He’d been there, felt those same emotions, that rush of attraction and excitement. But he also knew it was his job to make sure Jaciyah understood the responsibility that came with those feelings.

“Yeah, I get that,” Jey replied, his voice softer now. “I’ve been there, believe me. But that’s not all there is to it. When you start getting serious with someone, you’re not just dealing with your own emotions, you’re dealing with theirs, too. It’s important to be honest, to be careful. You can’t just rush into things without thinking it through.”

Jaciyah was quiet, his gaze fixed on his hands. “I don’t want to mess up. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Jey’s heart softened at the vulnerability in his son’s voice. He could see how much Jaciyah cared, how much he wanted to do the right thing but was still figuring out what that was.

“You’re not going to mess up, as long as you take things slow,” Jey said, his tone firm but comforting. “I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did, son. The mistakes I didn’t even realize I was making until it was too late.”

He paused, giving Jaciyah a moment to absorb his words. “Relationships aren’t just about what feels good in the moment. It’s about timing, respect, and making sure you’re both ready for what’s next. If you like this girl, then treat her right. Take your time. You don’t have to rush. You don’t need to have all the answers now, but you do need to make sure you’re doing things for the right reasons.”

Jaciyah looked up at Jey, his face more serious now, the weight of his father’s words settling in. “I’ll try, Dad. I didn’t really think about it like that.”

Jey smiled slightly, glad that his son was listening. “That’s all I’m asking for, son. You’re growing up, and that means you’re going to make mistakes. But you’ve got to learn from them, and you’ve got to keep working on being a good man. That’s what matters in the end.”

Jaciyah nodded, his expression softening as he processed everything Jey had said. “I’m not perfect, Dad, but I’ll do better. I don’t want to let you down.”

Jey stood up, placing a hand on his son’s shoulder. “You won’t, kid. Just keep learning, keep being honest with yourself, and we’ll figure it out together. Always.”

As Jey turned to leave, he paused at the door and looked back at Jaciyah. “And hey, don’t be too hard on yourself, alright? You’re still figuring things out. Just make sure you talk to me when you need to.”

Jaciyah looked up, a small but genuine smile on his face. “Thanks, Dad.”

Jey smiled back, nodding. “Anytime, son. Anytime.” And with that, he left Jaciyah’s room, feeling a little lighter, knowing he had made a step toward guiding his son through this tricky part of growing up.

—

As the night grew quieter, Jey found himself lost in thought, even as he held Rhea close. His mind wandered, and the doubts he had been carrying for so long resurfaced. There were moments where he felt torn in two—caught between his love for his family and his passion for his career.

Jey shifted slightly, his hand still resting on Rhea’s stomach as he stared into the dimly lit room. Rhea could feel the tension in his body, the subtle shift in the air that told her his mind was elsewhere.

“Jey,” she whispered softly, her voice calm but knowing. “Talk to me.”

Jey looked down at her, his heart heavy with a quiet frustration. “It’s hard, Rhea. I’ve been thinking a lot, and I don’t know how to balance it all. Being there for you, being there for our baby, and still doing what I love—what I’ve worked so hard for.”

Rhea didn’t say anything at first. She just let him speak, knowing he needed to voice these fears. Jey let out a shaky breath, his gaze distant as he tried to find the right words.

“With Jaciyah… with Jeyce… I was always gone. I was always on the road, working, traveling. I missed so much of their childhood. And now with our baby on the way, I’m scared I’ll miss out again. I feel like I’ve been given a second chance, but what if I screw it up again? What if I’m too focused on my career and I miss everything? What if I miss our baby’s first words? Their first steps? The things that matter the most?”

He paused, his throat tightening as he fought to keep his emotions in check.

“I’m supposed to be their father, right? But I feel like I was so wrapped up in my own dreams, my own career… that I didn’t really be there for them the way I should’ve. I wasn’t present enough. And I don’t want to make the same mistake with this baby. I want to do better, Rhea. I want to be the dad I always should’ve been, but I’m torn between being the man who’s there for his kids… and being the man who has to work. And I feel like, no matter what, I lose either way.”

Rhea’s heart broke a little as she listened to Jey. She knew how much this weighed on him. She knew how much guilt he carried over the time he missed with Jaciyah and Jeyce. It was one of the reasons why he’d worked so hard to build a future for them, but in the process, it had come at the cost of missing moments that couldn’t be reclaimed.

Rhea placed her hand gently on his cheek, turning his face so he could meet her gaze.

“Jey, I know how much you love them,” she said softly, her voice unwavering. “I can see it every day in the way you try, in the way you care. You are trying to be a better dad. That’s what matters. But you can’t be everything to everyone all the time. You’re only human.”

Jey looked at her, his brow furrowed as the weight of her words settled in. “But I should’ve been there more. For Jaciyah. For Jeyce. They’re growing up so fast, and I wasn’t there like I should’ve been. They needed me.”

Rhea nodded, understanding his pain. “They did, but they also know you’re their dad. And they know you love them. I think that’s the most important thing you can give them. It’s not about being perfect—it’s about showing up, even when you’re tired, even when it’s hard. And you are showing up. You showed up for Jaciyah tonight. And you’re showing up for me. And you’ll show up for our baby, too.”

Jey’s eyes softened as he took in her words. He knew deep down that Rhea was right. But the guilt still clung to him, like a shadow he couldn’t shake. He had missed moments with Jaciyah and Jeyce that he would never get back. Moments that, no matter how hard he worked now, would remain a part of his past.

“It’s just… I don’t want to miss any more of their lives. I can’t lose out on being the dad they need. I want to be here, Rhea. I want to be the man they look up to.” Jey’s voice cracked a little as the weight of his emotions caught up to him.

Rhea took a deep breath and sat up slightly, shifting so she could face him more directly. She cupped his face in her hands, her expression soft but firm.

“Jey,” she said, her tone serious but full of love. “You already are the dad they need. And I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but you’re already making up for a lot of the time you feel you’ve missed. You’re here, you’re present, and that’s what matters. You can’t change the past, but you can be here for the future. And our baby is going to have you by their side, every step of the way. You’ll get to make all of those memories. And that’s what counts.”

Jey felt a wave of relief wash over him as Rhea’s words sank in. He knew she was right. There was no perfect formula for being a parent—no perfect way to balance everything. But he was trying. He was trying for his family, and that was all he could do.

“I’m scared, Rhea,” he confessed, his voice quieter now. “I don’t know if I can do this. Be everything to everyone. I don’t want to be a failure again.”

Rhea leaned in, resting her forehead against his. “You’re not a failure, Jey. You’re the father your kids need. And you’re going to be the best father to our baby. Just take it one day at a time. We’ll figure it out together.”

Jey closed his eyes, taking in her warmth, her strength. The fear and doubt that had clouded his mind started to dissipate. There was still a long road ahead, and there would be challenges, but with Rhea by his side, he knew he wouldn’t have to walk it alone.

“I’m lucky to have you,” Jey whispered, his voice filled with gratitude.

Rhea smiled softly, her hand resting over his heart. “And I’m lucky to have you.”

As they lay back down, Jey pulled her into his arms, his heart a little lighter than before. He still had a long way to go in balancing his career and his role as a father, but he was willing to try. For his kids. For his family. And for the future they were building together.

—

February 15th, 2025 9:12 AM

The next day came in easily, and Rhea awoke first. Stretching, she slipped into the shower, letting the warm water wake her fully. Once she was done, she brushed her teeth and pulled on a pair of comfortable loungewear—a soft hoodie and leggings. Slipping on some fuzzy socks, she headed downstairs, Bella and Barry trotting close behind her, with Storm lazily trailing behind.

As she glanced out the kitchen window, she noticed Jey’s cousins—Jeremiah, Jesse, and Jeremy—already outside doing their morning patrols of the property. She smiled at the sight of their dedication, feeling reassured. Opening the back door, she let the pets out, giving each a quick pat before attaching GoPro cameras to their collars. Ever since Luna had passed, the cameras had been her way of keeping an eye on her furry companions and easing her anxiety.

Rhea returned to the kitchen and connected her phone to the Bluetooth stereo, scrolling through her playlist labeled Yeetman’s Jamz—a collection of songs Jey had sent her over time. She grinned, selecting “Sunshine” by Lil Flip, and the cheerful beat filled the room. With the music setting the tone, she moved to the fridge and gathered the ingredients for breakfast: eggs, milk, bread, bacon, and a hint of cinnamon for the French toast.

As the smell of sizzling bacon began to fill the air, Jey was the first to come downstairs. His hair was slightly messy, and his hoodie hung loose on his frame, but his smile was warm and familiar. “Morning, baby,” he said, leaning in to give her a kiss on the temple.

“Morning, love,” Rhea replied, handing him a fresh cup of coffee. Jey took a sip, humming in satisfaction as he sat down at the kitchen table, watching her work.

Not long after, Liv and Dom joined them, both dressed in mismatched pajamas and looking slightly groggy. Dom yawned loudly as Liv mumbled, “Morning,” before plopping down at the table.

“Breakfast is almost ready,” Rhea announced as she flipped the last piece of French toast onto a plate. She set the table with bacon, eggs, and the golden slices of toast, and soon, the four of them were digging in.

As they ate, Liv looked up and asked, “So, what are the plans for today?”

Rhea thought for a moment before suggesting, “You guys wanna do BBQ again? It was fun last time.”

Dom shook his head, his expression lighting up. “Nah, let’s do something different. I wanna make enchiladas today.”

Jey paused mid-bite, raising an eyebrow at Dom. “Enchiladas? You know how to make those, or are you just craving them?”

Dom rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair. “Man, don’t play with me. I’ve been in the kitchen with my mom since I was a kid. I know my way around enchiladas, thank you very much.”

Rhea chuckled, nudging Jey. “Alright, we’re sold. Dom’s in charge of dinner.”

Liv grinned. “Oh, this is gonna be good. You better not disappoint, Dom.”

Dom smirked confidently. “Trust me, you’re all gonna love it. Just wait.”

The group laughed and continued their breakfast, the easy camaraderie filling the room as sunlight poured through the windows, promising a relaxed, fun-filled day ahead.

Jey felt a buzz in his phone and pulled it out, seeing a text from Takecia, his ex-wife and the mother of his children. The message read:

“I just finished setting up the last piece of furniture in Jeyce and Jaciyah’s rooms at the apartment. Just wanted to ask if the boys could stay with me for the next two weeks.”

Relief washed over Jey as he quickly typed out a reply, agreeing to her request. Takecia responded almost immediately: “Perfect! I’ll pick them up in about an hour.”

He put his phone down and turned to Rhea, who was finishing up her decaf coffee at the kitchen table. “Takecia’s taking the boys for the next two weeks,” he said, his voice a little lighter than before.

Rhea smiled and nodded. “That’s good, babe. Gives you some time to digress.”

Jey sighed, feeling the weight lift slightly off his chest. “Yeah, it’s gonna help. But I gotta let her know what’s been happening so she understands what they’re going through too. I can’t just leave it like this.”

Rhea agreed. “You’re doing the right thing. The boys need to know that you’re still there, even when they’re with their mom. And Takecia deserves to know what’s been going on.”

After breakfast, Jey made his way upstairs to Jeyce’s room. He knocked softly before stepping in. “Hey, Jeyce, can you pack a bag? Your mom’s coming to pick you up in about an hour,” he said, trying to sound casual.

Jeyce looked up from his sketchbook and nodded. “Okay, Dad. I’ll be right there.”

Jey smiled and walked over to his son, pulling a small bag from the closet. “Also, I’m gonna give you your phone back. Just for the two weeks, okay? I want you to have it while you’re at your mom’s.”

Jeyce’s face lit up, “Thank you, Dad! I’ve missed having it!”

“I know, I know,” Jey chuckled.

“I love you dad..” Jeyce said, running to start packing.

Satisfied that Jeyce was all set, Jey made his way to Jaciyah’s room. He knocked gently before stepping inside. “Jaciyah, can you pack a bag? Your mom’s coming to get you too.”

Jaciyah was lying on his bed, scrolling through his phone. He looked up and nodded. “Okay.”

Jey walked over to his son’s bed, sitting on the edge. “Listen, I need to talk to you about something,” he said, his voice serious but calm.

Jaciyah sat up, looking a little concerned. “What’s up, Dad?”

Jey hesitated for a moment, then said, “I’m gonna tell your mom about the hickey you’ve got on your neck.”

Jaciyah’s eyes widened, and he quickly glanced down at his shirt collar, tugging it higher. “Dad, no! Please don’t!”

Jey placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m not doing this to get you in trouble, Jaciyah. But you need to know that it’s not something you can just hide. And I’m telling your mom because she needs to know what’s going on.”

Jaciyah sighed, looking down at his hands. “I know, I know… I just didn’t want her to freak out.”

“I get that,” Jey said. “You’ve got to be honest, especially with your mom. She’s gonna respect that more than if you try to cover it up.”

Jaciyah nodded reluctantly. “Okay, Dad. I get it. I’ll be ready for whatever she says.”

“Good,” Jey said with a nod. “You’re growing up, man. And with that comes responsibility. Just make sure you’re being safe and respectful. Alright?”

“Alright,” Jaciyah replied, a little more subdued but still understanding.

Jey stood up and ruffled his son’s hair before walking toward the door. “I’ll let you finish packing.”

As Jey closed the door behind him, he felt a wave of emotion. There was a lot on his plate—his relationship with Rhea, the pressure, and now the real responsibility of being a parent. But at least for the next two weeks, he knew the boys would be with Takecia, and that gave him some breathing room.

When he returned downstairs, Rhea was sitting on the couch, watching TV. He sat next to her, his gaze distant.

“Everything good?” she asked, noticing his expression.

Jey nodded, but his voice was soft. “Yeah, just… a lot to think about. I know I’ve got some stuff to work through, but it’s good to have some space with the boys gone for a bit. I just don’t want them to think I’m neglecting them.”

Rhea took his hand and squeezed it. “You’re not neglecting them, Jey. You’re just figuring things out. They’ll understand that.”

He smiled faintly, grateful for her support. “I hope so.”

—

A knock on the door signaled that Takecia was here to pick up the boys. Jey stood up, giving Rhea a reassuring kiss on the cheek before walking to the door.

“Take care of them, alright?” he said to Takecia as she stepped inside.

She nodded. “You know I will.”

Jey looked at Takecia, his face serious as he asked, “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Takecia, who was standing by the door, gave him a nod and followed him into the dining room, away from where Rhea was sitting in the living room. Jey pulled out a chair and motioned for Takecia to sit down. They both took a seat, the noise of the house settling around them as Jey gathered his thoughts.

“Look, I know it’s been a lot lately, and I wanted to fill you in on what’s been going on with the boys,” Jey began, running a hand through his hair. Takecia nodded, her arms crossed as she leaned back in her chair, silently listening.

Jey took a deep breath. “Jeyce—he’s been having some issues at school. He hit a kid with a lunchbox. And, well… he’s got a girlfriend now. Sneaking out to her house, kissing her on the couch when I’m not around.”

Takecia raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt, waiting for him to continue.

“And then there’s Jaciyah,” Jey said, his voice a little softer. “He sneaked a girl in the house, and now he’s got a hickey on his neck. I need you to know all this because… well, it’s been a lot, and I want to make sure you’re aware of what’s going on with them.”

Jey sat back, his hands resting on the table as he looked at Takecia. “I don’t know what to do, Takecia. I’m trying to handle it, but it feels like it’s just one thing after another.”

Takecia, to his surprise, started to laugh. Jey blinked, confused. “What’s so funny?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.

Takecia wiped a tear from her eye as she continued chuckling. “Jey,” she said between laughs, “they’re boys! What did you expect? Gray hairs? Stress lines? Of course they’re acting up. It’s just part of the deal.”

Jey sat there for a moment, staring at her, and then his own lips curled into a reluctant smile. “I didn’t think it’d come this fast. But yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Takecia’s laughter died down, and she looked at him seriously. “Look, Jey, you’re doing the best you can. I know it’s not easy, especially with everything going on right now. But you’ve gotta remember—boys are gonna be boys. We just have to keep an eye on them and guide them as best we can.”

Jey nodded slowly, feeling some of the weight lift off his shoulders. “I know, I know. But sometimes it feels like I’m failing them, you know? Like I’m not doing enough.”

Takecia softened, her tone more gentle now. “You’re not failing them. Just keep being present. They need that more than anything right now. And we’ll work together on this—just like we always have.”

Jey leaned back in his chair, exhaling deeply. “Thanks, Takecia. I appreciate it.”

She smiled, standing up and moving to the door. “Don’t forget, Jey—being their dad doesn’t stop just because they’re with me.”

Jey stood as well, giving her a nod. “I won’t forget. I’ll check in on them, and I’ll be here when they get back.”

Takecia waved him off with a wink as she stepped into the living room to gather the boys. “I’ll make sure they’re on their best behavior at my place, besides you know me.. I don’t tolerate that no-no nonsense shit.” she teased.

Jey chuckled and followed her out to the front door. He watched as Takecia led Jeyce and Jaciyah out to her car, waving as they drove off.

As the car disappeared, Jey felt the weight of the house grow quieter. He turned back to the house, heading toward the living room, where Rhea was sitting, a curious look on her face.

Rhea looked up at him. “Everything good with Takecia?”

Jey nodded, walking over to her and sitting down beside her. “Yeah. We had a good talk..”

Rhea smiled, reaching for his hand. “I’m glad. You needed that, Jey.”

He squeezed her hand and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Yeah, I did. But now… it’s just us.”

Rhea’s smile deepened as she looked up at him. “So, what are you looking forward to?”

“I’m looking forward to said Enchiladas now..”

—

Tuesday February 18th, 2025 1:48 PM

Rhea sat at her desk in her office at WWE Headquarters, a stack of notes and scripts spread across her workspace. She dipped a chicken nugget into a small cup of barbecue sauce and popped it into her mouth as she scribbled another idea for the NXT invasion storyline. The song Drive by Incubus hummed softly in the background, providing a steady rhythm to her brainstorming session. It was only Rhea’s second day back at work but she was already getting into the groove of everything.

As she leaned back to stretch, there was a knock at her door. “Come in,” she called, quickly grabbing a napkin to wipe her hands.

The door opened, and Bruce Prichard stepped in, his usual clipboard tucked under his arm. “Got a second?” he asked.

“Of course,” Rhea said, motioning to the chair across from her.

Bruce sat down and got straight to the point. “I need your thoughts on Roman’s WrestleMania direction. We’ve got a few ideas floating around, but nothing feels solid yet.”

Rhea nodded, setting her pen down. “I’ve been thinking about his arc too. Let’s keep it personal, tie it into the Shield fallout. Something with Seth to keep the made family dynamic at the forefront.”

Before Bruce could respond, there was a quick knock at the door, and an intern poked their head in. “Ms. Bennett, you’re needed in the conference room. Now.”

Rhea raised an eyebrow, surprised. She glanced at Bruce, who waved her off. “Go ahead. We’ll pick this back up later.”

Gathering her notebook, Rhea stood and followed the intern down the hallway. As they approached the frosted glass doors of the conference room, her stomach tightened. She had no idea what awaited her on the other side.

The intern opened the door for her, and she stepped inside.

Rhea smiled warmly as she stepped into the conference room, immediately recognizing Julian Velasquez, the lawyer she and Jey relied on for all their legal needs, especially with WWE keeping him on retainer for them. Julian stood to greet her, his face lighting up as he took in her appearance.

“Rhea! Oh my—your belly!” he exclaimed, pulling her in for a brief hug. “It’s starting to show. My wife didn’t even start showing until the end of her second trimester.”

Rhea laughed, rubbing her very slightly rounded stomach. “I know, right? Honestly, I think I’m going to have a big baby. But for now, I’m just a little curvy.”

Julian grinned, stepping back. “Curvy suits you. Any cravings yet?”

“Nothing too wild,” Rhea replied with a shrug. “But earlier, I was craving pickles with cream cheese and spicy Doritos.”

Julian chuckled as he gestured for her to sit down. “Classic. My wife went through a hot sauce and chocolate milk phase.”

Rhea scrunched her nose in mock disgust. “I don’t know about that combo.”

Julian laughed again as they settled into their seats. He adjusted his tie and opened his portfolio, flipping through neatly organized papers. “Alright, let’s get down to it. We’ve got a lot to cover.”

Rhea rested her hands on the table. “So, any updates? How’s everything looking?”

Julian sighed, his tone shifting to one of seriousness. “It’s… a lot. I’ve already spoken with Hunter and the WWE legal team. We’re making progress, but there are a few hurdles we need to work through before everything is set in stone.”

Julian cleared his throat and slid a photo across the table, his expression turning somber. “I need to know if you recognize this man.”

Rhea leaned forward, picking up the picture. It was a mugshot of an older man, maybe in his late 50s or early 60s, with deep wrinkles etched across his stern face. She studied it carefully but felt no spark of familiarity. Shaking her head, she said, “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

Julian sighed heavily, his tone gentle but firm. “I know your brain injury from the overdose has made remembering things harder for you, but I need you to really think back on this.”

Rhea’s stomach tightened as she looked at the photo again, her fingers trembling slightly. “Who is he?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

Julian clasped his hands together, the gravity of the situation weighing on him. “This man’s prints were found on Liv and Dominik’s rental car when the police retrieved it. There was another set of prints as well, but they haven’t been able to identify the second person.”

Rhea’s heart skipped a beat. “Liv and Dom’s car? When was this?”

“When they reported it missing. I’ve been keeping tabs on the investigation for you, and this photo only just came across my desk.”

Rhea stared hard at the image, searching for any flicker of recognition, but her mind was blank. She finally shook her head. “I really don’t remember him. Who is he?”

Julian leaned forward, his voice dropping. “This man is Demetri Jackson’s father, Frances James Jackson.”

Time seemed to stop. Rhea’s entire body froze at the mere mention of her ex’s name. Her breathing became shallow as her vision blurred slightly, and a wave of memories she’d fought so hard to suppress threatened to surface.

Julian gave her a moment, then pressed on, his tone cautious but insistent. “Rhea… I know about the incident in 2022. I know it was ruled as self-defense, but I need to ask you something very serious.”

Rhea swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “What?”

Julian pointed back to the mugshot. “Do you think this man—Demetri’s father—might hold a vendetta against you because of what happened? Because you took his son away from him?”

Rhea’s lips parted, but no words came out at first. Her mind raced, piecing together fragments of the past and trying to reconcile them with the present. She clenched her fists as her voice finally broke through, hoarse and uncertain. “I… I don’t know, Julian. I didn’t even know Demetri’s father was still alive.”

Julian nodded solemnly, understanding the emotional weight she was carrying. “I need you to think, Rhea. Anything you can remember, even the smallest detail, might help us figure out if he’s involved. This could be more than a coincidence.”

Rhea exhaled shakily, her heart pounding. “I’ll try,” she said softly, though the fear and uncertainty in her voice were unmistakable.

Julian reached into his briefcase, pulling out another photo and sliding it across the table. “What about him? Do you know this man?” he asked, his voice low but serious.

Rhea picked up the photo, her eyes narrowing as she looked at the face staring back at her. It was the same one that Detective Hart had shown Matthew, the one where Liv and Dominik were seen talking to someone outside of a gas station. The man in the photo was posing as a cop, standing by a re-painted police car.

Rhea stared at the image for a long moment, her mind racing. She touched the face on the picture, feeling a strange, unfamiliar jolt. “I… I really don’t know,” she admitted, her voice uncertain.

Julian sighed, frustration creeping into his tone as he leaned back in his chair. “I need you to dig deeper, Rhea. Any connection, any feeling of familiarity? This could be important.”

Rhea shook her head, her fingers still brushing the photo, trying to draw a memory from the recesses of her mind. But there was nothing—only a cloud of uncertainty.

She looked up at Julian, her brow furrowed. “The car,” she asked, her curiosity piqued. “What happened to the car to Liv and Dom’s car?”

Julian didn’t hesitate. “It was found in a tow yard, registered under a fictitious name: Imed Ttenneb.” He paused, letting the information settle. “That’s your name spelled backwards, Rhea.”

Rhea’s stomach dropped. She stared at him, stunned. “What? My name?”

Julian continued, his eyes locking onto hers as he spoke. “The police found Liv and Dominik’s personal belongings, but there was one thing missing—Liv’s championship belt. Liv’s nameplates were scratched off, badly damaged but the belt is still missing.”

Rhea’s thoughts swirled as she processed all the details—each one adding more weight to the situation. She took a deep breath, her hands trembling slightly.

Julian stood up and moved closer, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. His grip was firm, grounding her in the midst of the chaos. “Rhea…” He said her name softly, almost like a plea. “I don’t believe Matt just assaulted you because you wanted to leave him for Jey. I don’t believe that Matt just randomly came in one night and shot Jey in the shoulder. And I definitely don’t believe that blowing up Jon and Trinity’s cars, the car accident involving Liv and Dom, Damian and Kayden’s assault in New York—were all just a series of coincidences.”

Rhea’s breath hitched. She shook her head, trying to make sense of everything. “Then what do you believe, Julian?” she whispered, barely able to keep her voice steady.

He squeezed her shoulder gently, looking down at her with sincerity. “I believe some people are after you, Rhea. They’ve been after you because of what happened back in 2022. The pieces are starting to fit together, but we still don’t know who exactly is pulling the strings.”

Rhea swallowed hard, a knot forming in her throat. She tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her chest, but it was impossible. She had always known her past might catch up with her, but never like this—never in this way. The people she cared about, the ones she loved, were being targeted, and she was powerless to stop it.

Rhea sat back in her chair, her mind racing with the weight of everything Julian had just told her. The air in the room seemed heavier now, more suffocating. She stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest. “What should I do?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, a mix of exhaustion and uncertainty.

Julian’s expression softened as he watched her. He had seen Rhea face many challenges before, but this one was different. “Hunter informed me that you have family patrolling your property,” he said, his tone firm but reassuring. “I think you should keep them there until this blows over. It’s a precaution, nothing more.”

Rhea’s gaze dropped to her hands, instinctively resting on her belly as if the touch could anchor her. “My life, Julian… my life.” Her voice cracked slightly, the realization of her situation sinking in. “I can’t just stop everything because people have a vendetta against me. I’m going to be a mom, I’m literally due in late July. I have two bonus sons. How can I manage all this?”

The vulnerability in her words struck Julian. He knew she was facing the impossible—trying to balance the life she was building with the chaos from her past. He leaned forward, his voice calm but steady. “I understand your frustration, Rhea. This isn’t easy, and it’s a lot to handle all at once.”

Rhea took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but it was hard. The future she had envisioned—peace, family, a growing bond with Jey and his children—was suddenly clouded with uncertainty.

Julian gave her a moment of silence, letting her process before speaking again. “You gotta keep pushing, Rhea. Keep doing what you do. Don’t let fear control you. But do stay aware. Don’t let your guard down, not even for a second. You’re stronger than you realize, and you’ve got people who are going to support you through this.”

Rhea wiped away the stray tear that had escaped down her cheek. “It’s just… it feels like everything’s out of my control, Julian.”

Julian smiled softly. “It may feel that way, but you’re not alone in this. Not now, not ever.”

She nodded slowly, still feeling the weight of it all, but Julian’s words—his unwavering support—gave her a bit of strength. “I’ll keep my family close,” she said, her voice steadying, “but I won’t stop. I can’t. Not now.”

Julian gave her a reassuring look. “That’s the Rhea I know. You’ll get through this, I have no doubt. Just don’t forget to lean on the people who care about you. And always remember, you’ve got this.”

Rhea took another breath, glancing down at her belly once more, feeling the new life inside her. She was going to be a mother, and no matter what threats loomed ahead, she wasn’t going to let anything take that from her. Not now. Not ever.

“I’ll keep going,” she said quietly, her resolve slowly but surely solidifying. “For me. For Jey. For our kids.”

Julian nodded. “Exactly.” He stood up from his chair and gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder. “I’ll be in touch. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to reach out.”

As he left, Rhea sat there for a moment, the room still heavy but her mind clearing. There was no turning back now. Whatever was coming next, she would face it head-on, because she had to. For herself. For her family. For the future they were building together.

—

5:01 PM

As Rhea stuffed her backpack with binders and her work materials, she felt the weight of the conversation with Julian still lingering in her mind. The questions, the uncertainty—it all felt so overwhelming, but she knew she had to keep pushing forward. She grabbed her phone and turned off the lights in her office, the quiet hum of the building reminding her that the day was over.

She made her way down to the elevator, the soft ding echoing in the empty hallway. As the doors opened, she stepped inside, pressing the button for the garage. The descent felt slow, giving her more time to think, but as she exited the building and walked to Jey’s Mercedes, her thoughts wandered to him. She missed him—his smile, the warmth of his touch, the quiet comfort he always provided, especially now.

Rhea unlocked the car door and climbed in, the familiar scent of the leather and the smooth hum of the engine welcoming her. She hooked up her phone to the car’s system, and the moment she did, Not Like Us by Kendrick Lamar began to play. She smiled softly to herself, hearing Jey’s favorite song fill the car. It was such a small thing, but it grounded her, reminded her of him and of the life they were building together.

The long drive home felt longer than usual, her thoughts clouded by Julian’s words. She had so much to consider, so much at risk. But as she pulled into the driveway and typed in the code for the gate, her worries momentarily faded. The gate swung open, and she drove through, the security lights illuminating the path to their home. She pressed the garage door opener, but then, just as she was about to drive in, she stopped.

There, standing in the garage, was Jey. His arms stretched wide, a big grin on his face as he yelled, “Surprise!!!”

Rhea blinked, her exhaustion melting away as her eyes landed on the enormous plum-colored Tahoe parked in front of the garage. It was sleek, bold, and unmistakably stunning.

She laughed, her heart lightening at the surprise. “Oh my god, you really surprised me,” she said, getting out of the car and walking toward him. “But I love the color. It’s… perfect.”

Jey chuckled, handing her the keys with a proud grin. “Only the best for my soon-to-be wife,” he said, his voice full of love and warmth.

Rhea took the keys, her fingers brushing his as she smiled up at him. The weight of the day seemed to lift as she stood there, in front of her family’s home, with the man she loved. Her heart swelled, feeling the love and the excitement for what was to come.

“Thank you, Jey. I love it,” she said softly, before leaning up to kiss him, the world fading away in that simple, quiet moment.

Rhea and Jey walked through the garage door, the warmth of their home wrapping around them like a soft embrace. As they made their way to the kitchen, Rhea glanced over at Jey, the comfort of his presence making her feel lighter after the chaotic day. “So, what’s for dinner?” she asked, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Jey, with a confident grin, opened the stove and said, “I’m making steamed vegetables with steak.”

Rhea raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What kind of vegetables?”

Jey looked back at her with a playful smirk. “Your favorite. Brussels sprouts and carrots.” He closed the oven with a satisfying thud.

Rhea smiled warmly, but as the smell of the food filled the air, her stomach turned. She took a step closer to the counter, trying to ignore the sudden wave of nausea, but it hit her too fast. Without warning, she rushed over to the trash can, covering her mouth as she bent over and threw up.

Jey’s eyes went wide with concern as he immediately rushed to her side. He reached out to pull her hair back, a gesture that made her feel safe despite the discomfort. As she finished, he made a lighthearted comment, trying to ease the tension. “I swear, my cooking ain’t that bad, babe,” he teased with a laugh.

Rhea, still feeling queasy, managed to give him a weak smile, her hand resting on his arm for support. Jey quickly grabbed a dish towel and gently wiped her lips, his worry evident in his eyes.

Rhea took a deep breath, feeling a bit better now that the immediate nausea had passed. She chuckled softly, shaking her head. “It’s not you, babe. It’s the baby. I smelled Bruce’s cologne earlier today and threw up in his office.”

Jey’s expression softened with understanding, a chuckle escaping him as he pulled her into a gentle hug. “Guess that’s one way to tell him to lay off the cologne, huh?” he said, his voice warm and reassuring.

Rhea rested her head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, the weight of the day catching up with her. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Rhea,” Jey said, his hand rubbing her back comfortingly. “I’m here, okay? We’re in this together. Just focus on taking care of yourself—and the baby.”

—

After dinner, Jey and Rhea decided to take her new Yukon for a spin. Rhea settled into the passenger seat, the plush leather seat cradling her as she admired the smooth ride and the spacious interior. She fiddled with the radio, settling on a playlist Jey had made, the rhythmic beats of Kanye West’s Flashing Lights filling the car as they cruised down the road.

“You know,” Rhea began, smiling at her reflection in the passenger mirror, “this car is a game-changer. You really outdid yourself baby…”

Jey smirked, one hand resting casually on the steering wheel. “Only the best for you Riri’.”

Rhea rolled her eyes playfully, shaking her head. “Okay Jeyjey’.”

The drive started peacefully, the couple enjoying the quiet moments together. But as the ride stretched on, Rhea started to notice they weren’t heading anywhere familiar. The streets grew less residential and more industrial, the orange glow of streetlights lining the empty roads. She furrowed her brow and glanced at Jey, suspicion creeping into her voice.

“Okay, where are we going?” she asked, sitting up a little straighter.

Jey’s lips curled into a knowing smile, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “You’ll see.”

Rhea crossed her arms, a skeptical look on her face. “If it’s not a candy store I’m gonna be annoyed.”

“Trust me, babe. You’ll thank me for this one.”

Soon, Jey turned into a parking lot, the large glowing sign above the building catching Rhea’s attention. She leaned forward, reading it aloud. “Stamford Firearm Training.” Her eyebrows shot up as she turned to him, clearly unimpressed. “The gun range? Seriously?”

Jey put the car in park and turned to face her, his expression earnest. “Listen, I know this isn’t exactly your idea of fun, but just hear me out.”

Rhea gave him a dubious look, leaning back in her seat. “I’m listening.”

“Baby,” Jey began, his voice steady but soft, “I know you were not too thrilled to hear of it last time but now… right now.. I need to know you’re safe. Especially when I go back on the road. Knowing you can protect yourself, the baby, and the boys… it would mean everything to me.”

Rhea sighed, her arms still crossed. “Jey, I get what you’re saying, but I’m just not comfortable with the idea of having a firearm. It’s not… me.”

Jey reached over, gently taking her hand in his. His eyes, full of concern and love, locked onto hers. “Babe, I wouldn’t push this if it wasn’t important. It’s not about turning you into some gun enthusiast—it’s about peace of mind. For me. For us. You’ve already been through so much. I need to know you’re prepared if, God forbid, something happens.”

Rhea hesitated, his words sinking in. She knew where he was coming from, the depths of his worry, especially with everything that had happened over the past five months. The threats, the incidents, the constant uncertainty—they weren’t living a normal life, and she couldn’t deny that.

Finally, she let out a resigned sigh, her shoulders relaxing. “Fine,” she said, her voice softer now. “But don’t expect me to turn into some sharpshooter overnight.”

Jey grinned, his relief evident as he leaned over to kiss her hand. “Thank you, baby. I promise, it won’t be so bad.”

“Yeah, we’ll see,” Rhea muttered as they stepped out of the car.

Inside the facility, the atmosphere was surprisingly calm. The hum of faint activity echoed in the background, but it wasn’t the chaotic, intimidating scene Rhea had envisioned. Jey approached the front desk, where a clerk greeted them with a polite nod.

“Private class for Fatu and Bennett,” Jey said confidently.

The clerk tapped a few keys on her computer and looked up with a smile. “Got it. Right this way.”

Rhea followed reluctantly, her steps slower than Jey’s as they were led toward a private training area. Her mind was already racing with doubts and questions. Would she even be able to handle this? Could she do what Jey was asking of her?

As they stepped into the private room, a friendly-looking instructor greeted them, gesturing to a counter lined with safety gear and training pistols. “Welcome! First time for both of you?”

Jey shook his head. “Nah, I’ve done this before. But it’s her first time.”

The instructor nodded with a warm smile. “No worries, we’ll start with the basics.”

Rhea glanced at Jey, who gave her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. “You got this,” he said.

Taking a deep breath, Rhea stepped forward. “Alright,” she said, more to herself than anyone else. “Let’s do this.”

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