#emotions and conflict are never black and white)

[dedise]

comprehensive list of things CriMi fans need to accept:

both JJ and Reid were valid in their reactions in season 7: JJ didn't have a choice, as much as she saw her friends hurting if she had told just one of them that Emily was alive Emily's life would have been in serious danger; likewise, Spencer had a right to be hurt by it, and as a recovering addict it's fair that he might have thought of relapsing. both points of view were fair, JJ's comment on Reid's profiling skills was probably made so that Spencer would talk to her

people getting hung up on Rossi's comment of what he had done to the black kid when he was a child in the 60's (or around then) are incapable of accepting that people can change, and that the world isn't black and white. wether it truly happened or not, it happened during a time period where racism was, in fact, the norm, and where Rossi might not have had an easy time either (Italians weren't exactly liked by Americans at first, that's a fact). it was poor person versus poor person, an unlucky and uncomfortable situation. the fact he was wrong in his actions doesn't mean he wasn't able to grow and become better, people change

JJ's character ended up being used to shoulder everyone else, she was demonished in lieu of elevating others

Derek's "Devil's advocate" persona was unnerving, he was never right in his assumptions. sometimes he was an horrible friend, referencing to when Penelope wanted to visit the guy that almost killed her and Reid in the season 9 finale. get a grip my dude, emotions are conflicting

as much of a light in the darkness Penelope is, she was objectively too much sometimes. her being unable to keep secrets is not quirky or cute, it's embarassing. y'all defend her because she is a fictional character, if you had someone like her around you probably wouldn't be able to stand her

Hotch leaving the way he did did not make sense. he didn't leave when his wife was murdered while their son was in the house, bfr

Jason was NOT a good mentor. he brutally ignored Spencer's addiction (technically it was his problem, as Reid was his protegé), called Hotch on his birthday even tho he had the weekend off, and probably knew Hotch and Haley were having issues. he was kind of a dick tbh

Haley had her rights. she married a lawyer, not a fed. they had a child. she was worried and wanted her son to have a father, and Hotch to know his son

fans baby Spencer way too much. he's a grown ass man, the fact he's "hot" doesn't mean he can't make mistakes. "uwu autistic" he's an adult

the CriMi writers jump from one money bag to the other; when Hotch left Spencer became the sole focus of everything, now that Spencer isn't in the show anymore they're queerbaiting with Jemily, and their quirky one liners for Voit are just cringe

they're trying to paint Voit as the new Foyet, only problem is that Foyet was actually terrifying, and had a sarcastic and cynical sense of humor. Voit tries, and fails

Evolution is NOT good. the team went from incredibly smart to a bunch of idiots, Voit did not need to appear for season 17, let alone 18. Bailey's "master plan" to dismember the BAU is empty, he tells them "don't", they do, and nothing happens to them. he's there as a place holder because the writers needed a way to reach the 45 minute episode mark

the "family dynamic" in Evolution does not exist. they left Rossi to his own devices for a whole year, where's the family in that?

Luke Alvez is a good character, argue with the wall

"BAU gate" existed for years, the Unit Chiefs knew, yet Hotch didn't say anything, or Penelope (master hacker) wasn't able to close it and track the creator? yeah, no, that plotline sucks

Will DOES NOT deserve the hate he gets. he's a great husband, great father, Jemily shippers are hating on him because it gets in the way of their fantasy ship

back to Derek, when he was angry he said hurtful stuff indeed, unfortunately tho some people do react that way, it's very realistic (also considering that due to what happened when he was child, he tends to be distrustful). he's very well written, and people ignore that at his core he is a teddy bear. he's complex, and it is interesting to see the two worlds collide lmao

every BAU member is human, they all have good and bad qualities, humans are not monodimensional

maybe I left something out, lmk your thoughts (asks are open if you wish to stay anonymous)

[xoxorealitygalore]

Always A Bad Girl

Jey Uso x Black OC

Once a bad girl, always a bad girl.

Summary: When a group of girls shows up to fight his nieces and their friend, Joshua is stunned to find that his niece’s friend’s mom, Divinity, is the woman he’s been unable to forget after a one-night stand. The chemistry between them is undeniable, and Joshua quickly realizes he wants more with her. But as their connection deepens, he’s about to learn that Divinity’s wild side may be more than he bargained for.

Masterlist

Joshua had imagined his day at the park would be nothing more than an ordinary, peaceful outing. It was a simple idea: he, his twin brother Jonathan, their cousin Joe, and a handful of other relatives would spend some time outdoors with the kids, bonding over nature, food, and simple pleasures.

It was meant to be a break from the constant grip of screens and digital distractions, a chance for the younger generation to experience the world beyond their phones. He wanted to show them that there was more to life than the constant notifications, the endless scrolling, and the constant pull of the virtual world.

The morning had started as expected. The park was calm, the weather perfect, sunlight spilling through the trees in warm golden rays, the smell of fresh grass and earth filling the air. The kids, a mix of rowdy and restless, had initially complained about how boring being outside was.

But after the first hour, they had started to settle in. Joshua’s nieces Joelle and Jayla began exploring the park, and Jenova, their friend who always had a spark of energy to her, quickly became the leader of the little group. The peace Joshua had been craving was beginning to settle over him.

That peace was short-lived, however.

What began as a few loud words between Joelle, Jayla, Jenova, and a group of girls quickly escalated. Joshua looked up from his seat, sensing the shift in the air. The playful banter had turned into something sharper, more charged. His eyes followed their gaze to a group of girls that had appeared at the edge of the park, their presence slowly becoming more menacing.

At first, it wasn’t clear what was happening, but as the girls exchanged angry words with Joelle, Jayla, and Jenova, it became apparent that things weren’t as innocent as they had seemed.

This wasn’t the first time these girls had clashed with his nieces and their friends. The previous day at school, an argument had erupted—one that was now spilling into the park. When the girls saw Joelle, Jayla, and Jenova, they took it as an open invitation to settle things with fists, rather than words. The tension in the air was thick. A fight was brewing, and all of them could feel it.

“Let me call my momma!” Jenova shouted, her voice tinged with defiance and frustration, as one of the other girls' mothers marched over to her, clearly angry.

Joshua’s stomach sank. He had known Jenova for years—ever since she was just a little girl—but he had never met her parents. He knew her grandmother well, though, and that had always been enough. Her grandmother was strong, a no-nonsense woman, but Jenova’s parents? He had never heard much about them. Now, standing at the edge of the conflict, Joshua was forced to confront the reality of what was happening in front of him. This wasn’t just a kid’s fight. It was a mess of adult emotions too, and that was about to become all too clear.

Before anyone could stop it, the situation spiraled further out of control.

A car engine roared to life in the distance, and Joshua’s gaze snapped toward it. The unmistakable sound of a high-performance engine grew louder, and soon, a white Lamborghini Aventador LP 740 Roadster appeared, its sleek, aggressive design cutting through the park's serene atmosphere. The car’s wing doors opened with a dramatic swoosh, and a woman stepped out—curvy, striking, and undeniably confident.

Joshua’s heart stopped.

There, standing in front of him, was Divinity. She was Jenova’s mother.

And as the shock of recognition hit him, the puzzle pieces of his life suddenly fell into place in the most unsettling way.

He had known Divinity from that one night in Miami—an unexpected encounter that had never left his mind. A one-night stand that had seared itself into his memory. They’d met, they’d been together, and then she had disappeared as quickly as she’d arrived. Joshua had spent months trying to forget about the fiery woman who had ignited something in him that he hadn’t been able to shake.

Now, here she was, standing just a few feet away from him, a confrontation brewing as she locked eyes with the woman who had been yelling at her daughter. Joshua’s body stiffened. He had known nothing about Jenova’s mother, and certainly nothing about the fact that Divinity was the one raising Jenova. But there was no denying it now. Divinity was here, and she was livid.

Jonathan’s wife, along with a few other women, recognized Divinity almost immediately. They knew her well from the reality television shows she had been on, where her infamous temper and ability to fight had made her a fan favorite. They knew better than anyone what was coming next. The air crackled with tension. Something was about to happen that Joshua never could have anticipated in a thousand years.

Jenova dashed toward her mother, her anger fading slightly as she pointed toward the woman who had been in her face. Without a second thought, Divinity strode toward the woman with an icy determination in her step. She spoke, her voice sharp and commanding: “Anybody wanna fight?”

Before anyone could react, Divinity reached the woman and, without warning, grabbed her by the hair. In a single, fluid motion, she pulled the woman toward her and struck her hard. Chaos erupted as the others rushed to separate them, but Divinity wasn’t done. She wasn’t backing down. Again, she lunged toward the woman, this time leaving her with four painful knots on her head. The scene was pure mayhem, a spectacle that drew the attention of everyone nearby.

Joshua’s heart pounded in his chest. He couldn’t just stand there. He had to act. He rushed over and grabbed Divinity, pulling her back.

“Chill, Divinity,” he said, his voice low but urgent, trying to steady the situation before it escalated even further. Her body was tense, her anger barely contained, but his words seemed to have an effect. For a moment, she stopped struggling.

The situation was tense, but through a combination of force and quick thinking, they managed to get everyone out of the park before the police arrived. The children were shaken, and the adults were exhausted from trying to manage the chaos, but somehow, they all made it out without anyone getting arrested. The tension hung in the air like smoke, and Joshua could feel the weight of everything that had just happened.

Jenova, still visibly upset, walked over to her mother. There was a quiet conversation between them, too soft for Joshua to hear. He could see the affection and worry in Divinity’s eyes. Despite everything, she was still a mother, and she cared deeply for her daughter. And that, in a strange way, was the moment that Joshua understood Divinity a little more. Behind the bravado and the tough exterior, there was something softer, something human.

As the group made their way to the parking lot, Trinity leaned over to Joshua, her eyes narrowed in curiosity. “You know that woman, don’t you?” she asked.

Joshua nodded slowly. “Yeah. Divinity... I didn’t know she was Jenova’s mother.”

Trinity raised an eyebrow. “Small world, huh?”

Joshua couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Too small,” he replied, though his mind was still spinning.

Later that night, as Joshua sat at home, the events of the day replayed in his mind. The way Divinity had shown up out of nowhere, the anger in her eyes, the intensity of her presence. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. But now, the idea that she was Jenova’s mother and that she had been living so close to him, in a way was dizzying. There was a connection here that he hadn’t expected.

The next morning, Jonathan showed up at Joshua’s house. He had questions. Lots of them.

“Trin thinks something went down between you and Divinity,” Jonathan said, sitting down heavily on the couch. His eyes were wide with curiosity.

Joshua’s mouth went dry. “She’s right. Divinity... she’s the girl from Miami. From that night.”

Jonathan’s eyes widened further. “No way. You’re telling me that this whole time, you’ve been thinking about her, and now you find out she’s under your nose all along?”

Joshua nodded slowly. “Yup. I didn’t know she was Jenova’s mom, or that she was even connected to Joelle and Jayla. If I had known, I would’ve been all over her.”

Jonathan smirked. “I’m not surprised. You’ve been thinking about her nonstop, haven’t you?”

Joshua didn’t deny it. He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s crazy, right?”

“What’s the plan, man? Are you just gonna keep thinking about her, or are you gonna actually make a move?”

Joshua didn’t know. The truth was, he hadn’t even processed what was happening yet. All he knew was that Divinity was out there, and he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Meanwhile, across town, Divinity was talking to her older sister, Serenity. The conversation, of course, turned to Joshua.

“You mean to tell me your daughter’s friends with the nieces of the man you’ve been thinking about since Miami? The one who had you begging for his babies when he was deep in your guts?” Serenity teased.

Divinity rolled her eyes. “I regret telling you that, but yes.”

Serenity grinned. “Girl, what are you going to do about it?”

Divinity’s gaze darkened. “I want him. I want him bad.”

Serenity raised an eyebrow. “So, Jenova’s getting a little sister, huh?”

Divinity smirked.

“Maybe two or three, if everything goes my way.”

Serenity chuckled, shaking her head. “Girl, you better make sure he’s top tier, or you’re gonna regret it.”

Divinity smiled, pulling up Joshua’s Instagram profile. “Oh, trust me, he is.”

As she scrolled through his photos, her smile widened. “I love a man who knows he’s fine.”

Serenity laughed. “Just don’t like any old posts now.”

But of course, Divinity did exactly that. She shrieked, flustered. Serenity giggled, and Divinity quickly unliked the post.

“So, what’s the play?” Serenity asked.

Divinity’s eyes gleamed with determination. “I’m going to show up at the next family gathering. Get to know the people my daughter spends so much time with. And show Joshua I want him.”

Serenity raised an eyebrow. “A little late for that, don’t you think?”

Divinity shrugged. “It’s never too late.”

Serenity sighed. “Just don’t let Jenova feel like you’re ignoring her or using her to get close to Joshua. You don’t want her to end up like how we were with Mom.”

Divinity’s expression softened. “I’ll make it up to her. I’ll do better.”

And as the conversation came to an end, Divinity knew she had her plan in motion. It was time to make her move.

The following week seemed to stretch endlessly for Joshua. Every morning he woke up, the events of that day at the park replayed in his mind like a movie he couldn’t stop watching. His thoughts kept drifting back to Divinity. The way she had stepped out of that white Lamborghini—cool, confident, and undeniably magnetic. The sheer intensity of her presence had caught him off guard. He had barely been able to process what was happening before she was in the middle of the chaos, throwing punches and drawing everyone’s attention.

What was even more surreal was realizing who she was the woman he couldn’t forget from that one night in Miami. The one night that had haunted him in the best and worst ways. He hadn’t been able to forget her, no matter how hard he tried, and now, here she was standing in front of him, angry, fierce, and entirely different than the woman he remembered. Yet there was a pull, something deeper that made him rethink everything. Was he just imagining things, or was there some unspoken connection between them that had been lying dormant for all these months?

The following Saturday, Jonathan called.

“You ready for this family gathering today?” Jonathan’s voice crackled through the phone. There was something oddly knowing in his tone as if he already knew the answer.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” Joshua replied, but his words lacked conviction. He wasn’t sure if he was more anxious to see Divinity again, or if he was simply bracing for the awkwardness of what lay ahead.

“Uh-huh,” Jonathan said. “Just don’t make things weird with Trin, okay? She’s been talking about you and Divinity, and I swear, if you start acting strange, I’ll lose it.”

Joshua chuckled softly. “I’ll behave, I promise. But you’re right. This is gonna be... interesting.”

When they arrived at the gathering, the tension in the air was immediate. It wasn’t just about catching up with family or reminiscing over old memories. The kids were running around, their laughter loud and carefree, but the adults had a different energy. The women exchanged knowing looks, and even the men seemed to have a heightened awareness, glancing over at Joshua and Jonathan every few moments.

Then, she appeared.

Divinity walked into the backyard like she owned the place, her curvy frame moving with a confidence that made it hard to look away. She was wearing a fitted black dress that hugged her body in all the right places, her hair styled perfectly, and her makeup flawless. She was the kind of woman that commanded attention without even trying.

Joshua’s heart skipped a beat. He felt the pull again, the way he had felt that night in Miami. Only this time, it was stronger, more undeniable. He tried to calm his nerves, but it was hard when Divinity walked right up to him, her presence almost overwhelming.

“Well, well,” she said, her voice smooth but tinged with something playful. “Small world, huh?”

Joshua’s mouth went dry. “Yeah, too small,” he said, trying to sound casual, but his voice betrayed him.

Divinity smirked. “I didn’t expect this, but here we are.” Her eyes scanned him for a moment as if she was taking him in all over again, the way she had the first time.

The conversation felt strange at first—awkward almost, like two people who had once shared something private, only to have it thrust back into the public eye. They spoke in small bursts, light and easy, but there was an undeniable tension. Neither one of them could pretend they hadn’t been thinking about the other since that night in Miami. But neither was willing to address it, at least not directly.

As the afternoon wore on, the conversation shifted. The sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the group. The food was laid out on the picnic tables, and everyone had gathered around, catching up, and reminiscing about old family stories. It felt almost like any other gathering until Divinity sidled up next to Joshua, leaning in just enough to make his pulse quicken.

“I heard you’ve been thinking about me,” she said, her voice low, barely a whisper between them.

Joshua swallowed hard, his heart hammering in his chest. He hadn’t been expecting her to be so direct. But then again, with Divinity, he should have known better.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” Joshua admitted, trying to keep his voice steady, though his body betrayed him.

“Well, we always seem to find each other, don’t we?” Divinity’s lips curled into a small smile, her eyes glinting with something he couldn’t quite place. It was playful, but there was an undercurrent to it—something he couldn’t ignore.

Before he could respond, Jonathan appeared beside them, his eyes flicking between the two of them with a raised eyebrow.

“Alright, lovebirds,” Jonathan teased his tone light but knowing. “Don’t make things awkward for the rest of us.”

Divinity chuckled, her laughter smooth and easy. “Relax, Jonathan,” she said, turning to face him. “I’m just getting to know the family better.”

Joshua glanced at Jonathan, who gave him a knowing look before nodding in acknowledgment.

As the day wore on, Joshua and Divinity seemed to drift further into their little world, talking and laughing, exchanging glances that no one else seemed to notice. There was a subtle tension between them, a silent understanding that neither of them had put into words. They didn’t need to. They knew what was happening. It was the kind of connection that didn’t need any explanations.

However, as the evening wore on, Joshua couldn’t shake the feeling that Divinity had an agenda. She was too deliberate in her actions, too confident in the way she carried herself. She wasn’t just here to get to know the people who her daughter was with all the time. She had a purpose, and Joshua wasn’t sure what that purpose was. But he knew one thing for certain: she was determined to get what she wanted.

Later that night, after most of the family had left, including Divinity and Jenova, Joshua and Jonathan lingered outside, sitting by the fire pit with a few of the other relatives. The conversation had turned to old stories, and for a while, everything felt comfortable again. But then Jonathan turned to him, his expression serious.

“So, what’s the deal with you and Divinity?” Jonathan asked bluntly. “Are you gonna make a move or just keep pretending like nothing happened?”

Joshua chuckled nervously. He didn’t want to admit how much he had been thinking about her, but there was no denying it. The connection was undeniable.

“I don’t know, man,” Joshua said, running a hand through his hair. “It’s complicated. It’s not just about what happened in Miami anymore. There’s more to it.”

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. “More to it? You mean you want to pursue her?”

Joshua’s silence answered the question for him. He didn’t know what he was feeling, but something about Divinity had sparked a fire in him that he couldn’t ignore. The woman was a force, and no matter how hard he tried to stay detached, he couldn’t deny that she made him feel things he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Meanwhile, Divinity was at her own house, lounging on the couch and scrolling through her phone. She had been waiting for a sign, a message from Joshua, something to indicate that he was just as interested as she was. She had made her intentions clear, but there was something about him that intrigued her. He wasn’t like the others.

She heard her phone buzz with a notification. When she glanced at it, her lips curved into a smile.

Uceyjucey started following you on Instagram.

Joshua had finally found her. Divinity felt a surge of excitement. It wasn’t just about the following, it was about the message it sent. He had been thinking about her, just as she had been thinking about him. This was the beginning of something, she could feel it.

“About time,” she muttered to herself, opening Joshua’s profile and scrolling through his photos. A smirk tugged at the corners of her lips as she saw the images of him, his confident stance, his strong features, and that undeniable charm.

She hit the follow button. Let the games begin.

When Joshua arrived home, he couldn’t help but grin when he saw Divinity’s name flash on his phone screen. It seemed she was on the same timing as him.

“Let’s do this,” he muttered to himself.

As he scrolled through her photos, he knew things were only going to get more complicated from here. But part of him didn’t mind. The tension between them had been building, and now, it was about to explode into something neither of them could predict.

Next: Chapter Two

[franeridan]

thinking again about how in trigun 98 they had nick kill someone with the face of a child posing as an orphan for vash, and how in tristamp they had him kill a child in the body of a monster who had no choice in what had been done to him, and how instead in trimax nick for vash kills a man who'd approached vash for a death match, who'd demanded to either kill or be killed, a man nick had given vash a fair chance to fight and win against and who nick would have left alone hadn't said man attacked vash when his back was turned after the duel was over and done with, a man who'd been one step from possibly seriously harming vash hadn't nick stepped in. and about how after in all three versions vash yells at nick for it, but only in trimax nick tells vash that he's lucky he's there to play the devil for him so that he can stay a saint, and only in trimax in the arc right after vash ends up thanking nick for killing for him and protecting his home when vash couldn't because of his own morals, and only in trimax in the end when nick isn't there to play the bad guy for vash he ends up being right, and vash ends up having to dirty his hands himself to protect what he loves - while both in 98 and for now tristamp vash stays a saint until the end, and that fight they have ends in itself, and the only lesson it leaves you as a viewer is that nick is jaded enough to kill a child

[icarrymany]

i have horrible second hand embarrassment issues that make it hard to do literally anything but other than that my autisms empathy is LOW

[t-lostinworlds]

i don't think i will ever understand the confidence of some people to leave comments on fanfictions which are disguised as constructive criticism or thought analysis but it's just so blatantly aggressive and mean and so black and white without even trying to understand or see where the characters are coming from and that maybe, just maybe, they're reflections of humans so they're a bit complicated. it gives off "i'm in a moral high ground" and it's just jarring.

i think people need to learn that there's ways to leave comments, opinions and thoughts and constructive criticism on anything and be nice about it.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hello! I've read your soap and price fics and you are amazing!!!

I had an idea for a fic for Ghost. The reader would be Soaps slightly older sister who isnt like Johnny at all. Im thinking she either picks up soap from base after an op or from the bar. I'll leave alot of this up to you but i just wanna see Soaps Sister meeting Ghost!!

Brother's Coworker

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Soap's Sister!Reader

SYNOPSIS: In the dim illumination of the streetlights, Ghost lays eyes on a woman leaning against the body of a vintage Hillman Imp.

WORDCOUNT: 4.2k

WARNINGS: Little bit of angst, but mostly fluff and pre-relationship pining, loads of sibling banter, conflicting emotions, etc.

A/N: Finally able to use my sibling experiences for a fic lmfao, enjoy!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

The woman was leaning against the body of a vintage Hillman Imp, the custom color a deep forest green along the sides and a cream white coating the upper third. Ghost stared at her as the rest of the men filed out of the bar one after the other—Johnny and Gaz being especially loud. He blinks slowly, hands inside his blackened pockets.

Across the way, your ears perk slowly at the sound of rapturous shouts, but you only continue to look down the sidewalk at the long illuminations of street lamps and the glints of broken bottles on the ground. Over your chest, your hands shift in their hold on your biceps, your thin jacket crinkling. Light dances in your irises.

“Oi, is that who I think it is?!” Familiar Scottish drawl brings a smirk to your face, and you turn slowly to huff, snapping out of your silent thoughts. 

“Who else would it be, ya bloody git,” your voice carries, but it lacks the sheer volume of your brother’s; the great boom that reminds you of the bombs he’d used to make out of your mother’s hair spray bottles. 

Never a dull day in your childhood home, really.

“‘Bout gave me a heart attack, not answerin’ my calls like that!” Johnny laughs loudly, obviously drunk, and stumbles over merrily. You’re taken into a chest-breaking hug in mere moments, leaving you squirming with a deep grunt. “Should have your head, MacTavish.” You manage to squeak out, “Put me the fuck down, you horror. And what in the hell have you done to your hair?!”

“Oh, my dear sister.” Your brother lets you go as the three other men slink over, amused with the scene but some momentarily confused by the sudden introduction. Gaz laughs, and the Captain huffs a chuckle before fixing the position of his beanie on his head. 

Ghost, as always, chooses to watch like a looming shadow above the rest. 

Johnny puts a hand to his chest, the other remaining on your shoulder, “You wound me. Such cruelty stuck in your black soul; I say now, mother was always right—”

You smack the side of his head and Johnny grunts. 

“Ow!” He yells, glaring at you. “What the fuck?!” 

“Open your mouth again and I’ll wring you out, you arse. You know I will.” Grumbling, the Scot rubs the side of his head as you raise a brow at him. The stare-off lasts for a decent bit, and before the rest of the group knows what’s going on, the two of you are embracing each other once more; laughing loudly. 

Ghost’s eyebrows pull in slowly.

“Ah, it’s good to be back!” Johnny chuckles, holding you close as you pat his back.

“Of course, I’d find my kid brother at a damn pub on his first day home.” Taking a step away from the hulk of a boy, you brush down your shirt and jacket with a scoff. Looking up, you come to face the remaining men with an exasperated look. “He’s full of shite half the time, y’know, now. Can’t imagine what he puts you all through.”

“Bloody hell, Soap, you were holding out on us,” Gaz chuckles loudly, sticking out a hand for you to shake while he glances at the mohawked Scot who looks giddy despite being insulted by who’s very obviously his older sister. “Never knew you had siblings, Mate.” You take the man’s hand as he smiles brightly at you. 

“Kyle.” He says, and you beam back, “But Gaz’ll do just fine.”

“A pleasure,” your voice carries to John who you raise a brow at teasingly. “Well, look who the Reaper’s yet to drag down…Good to see you again, Captain.”

Price shakes his head, a smirk peeling his lips as Gaz steps back. 

“Still on that land of yours, then, Love?” The brunette asks gruffly, leaning back on his heels for a moment while you sag your side into Johnny’s arm. Your brother scoffs and loops his limb over the bridge of your shoulders as you nod. 

“You know it. Proper quiet when the neighbors aren’t up to a ruckus racin’ down the streets. Christ, those kids are devils—worse than Johnny and I when we were young.”

“Now that’s hard to believe, eh?” The man beside you laughs through his slurred words and you roll your eyes. 

Chuckling in return, you blink, spying on the intent black figure behind everyone else. Piercing brown eyes dig past flesh like a scalpel while you tilt your head to the side, interest alighting behind your skull. He doesn’t move or even greet you, just looks over you and then turns his attention to the street like a roaming bear would; hell, he certainly could be a bear with how big he was. Bigger than Johnny, even. 

This stranger wears a large brown leather jacket, the hood of his underclothes pulled up to cover most of the pale skin that would otherwise be visible. The long swish of light lashes captures you as you study the way he blinks slowly across the road. On his chin and on the top of his forehead, the fabric of a skeletal-painted balaclava shrouds him. Cargo pants and large black combat boots sit on his feet. 

He stands like a statue. 

“Who’s this then?” You call easily, and those eyes travel back to you even as the head doesn’t. It’s strange the way you seem to brush aside the blatant intimidation he exudes simply by standing.

“Ah,” John grunts, chuckling, before stepping to the side. “Simon, introduce yourself.” 

A low voice lowly wafts after a moment to silence, Manchester accent spearing you in the ears with its rough make-up, “Ghost.” 

You blink over at the Captain, but he just shakes his head and you move on. Johnny chuckles and whispers to you, “Don’t mind ‘em, Lt’s a bit rough around the edges.”

Plastering on a polite smile, your chin moves in a nod, “Pleasure to meet you, Ghost. Good to know the other two who look after Johnny out there.” The man beside you feels his face burn, free hand going to itch at his neck.

Ghost grunts and shrugs off the veiled praise, large muscles stiff.

“You’re actin’ like I’m not the one savin’ their skins half the time,” Gaz interjects on the Scot’s point.

“Is that what you call it?” You share an amused glance at John. 

Though, your eyes always sway back to Ghost, or Simon, depending on who you ask. He listens to the chatter, obviously, but he seems much more content to only stay with his hands inside of his pockets and study the street for...what exactly? The beast wasn’t shy, no, just…silent. If you didn’t know better you’d call him aggressively casual with the way his shoulders sit.

Stance relaxed but the underlying threat was palpable on the wind. Like a wolf rubbing his cheeks on the ancient trees of his territory. ‘Don’t do anything stupid,’ - it seems his very DNA states that.

Brown eyes suddenly lock with your own as if snapping into place and before you can release a squeak of alarm, you swiftly dart your gaze away back to the arguing Sergeants; face burning.

Christ, how long had you been staring at him?

“Alright, you two, ease off it!” Trying to distract yourself, you wave a hand. “You’re both too drunk to be gettin’ into street fights at this hour. Johnny, into the car ya fool.” 

Your brother slashes you with a grin.

“Fuckin’ finally, a decent bed!” It was tradition to give Johnny the spare room when he was back home—proper meals. 

“You’re callin’ mother, y’know.” You unlock your car and motion to the passenger seat with a frown. “I dinnae care if you’re trapped for hours—give the woman a rest of all her worrying.” 

“You heard the woman, Sergeant,” John forces the gravel out of his throat, rubbing at his beard. Something hits your chest as your brother opens his door as you stand in the cold. You glance at each man in turn; eyebrows pulling in with thought.

“Ah, what the hell,” your voice huffs out. Ghost watches you closely, blinking as he lifts a hand to itch at his neck from under his hood. The leather jacket crumples with tiny shifts of worn-out material. 

“Don’t suppose you boys need any good beds to rest your heads on for the night?” Wiggling your keys, you pat the top of your Hillman as you slide to the driver's side. Johnny slinks inside his own and chuckles as he closes the barrier with a careful thunk. 

“Hospitality finally leakin’ in?”

“Next time I hit ya,” you send him a bland look, “I’ll aim for the neck.” Fake flinching towards him, the man squeaks and snaps quickly back into the car door as you snicker lively. 

“Beast!” Johnny exclaims. You roll your eyes and shimmy down the window behind him, calling out as the rest share glances.

“Get in if you’re comin’ over! If not all the food I made yesterday’ll go to waste!” That seemed to get Gaz into the back, with only Price and Simon left behind. 

Brown meets blue and John’s beard pulls back with a smirk. He clears his throat, “Well, I’m not one to spit in her face.” The Captain walks over and grunts as he bends down. 

Ghost sighs under his breath and follows, impartial as to where this night is going. He wouldn’t sleep tonight, no doubt. The hard and unforgiving beds on base were the only things he could rest on now save the ground. And food? He could go without food for days.

Though, being Johnny’s sister bought you some favor, trust wasn’t something that Simon gave around freely. But the car you drove was nice, and the company of his Task Force was easy to basque in until they shipped out again. 

Simon sits down on the refurbished seat and softly closes the door behind him. Dead-eyed, he stares at Johnny’s headrest as you glance at him from the rearview mirror—seeing his shoulder dig into the glass of the window. 

You shove down a joke and hum. “Good, then, it’ll free my fridge at the very least.” 

“Thank you, Ma’am,” Gaz offers as you start up the engine, “it’s awfully nice of you to do this for us.”

“Ah,” Simon hears you dismiss as he turns to stare out of the window; so often feeling his gaze drawn back to you as a leaf attached to a tree might act. “Don’t worry your head about it. I like the company.” 

“Aye, just how she is,” Johnny says earnestly. “Was always the one to let me over with my pals when the football games were over—’cept we were usually covered in mud.”

“I’m still finding grass in my rugs, Johnny Boy,” you mumble, focusing on the road as a slight squeaking emanates from the front of the car. Simon picks up on it easily, not preoccupied with speaking. He glances at you but mentions nothing beyond a shuffling of his thighs. 

Outside the land slides past in shades of verdant green and gray as the town falls away. 

He was confused, rightly. You’d seen his standoffish nature but had chosen to extend hospitality as the old Greeks did just off a growl of his name. But maybe it was just because he was your brother’s coworker. 

Simon grunts to himself and rubs at his wrist. Throughout the ride, the two of you would glance at each other and try to forget that you had; when the long driveway of a large secluded home expands out above the car, Gaz whistles lowly.

“Bloody hell, Ma’am,” he states and John chuckles. You easily smile and roll your eyes. 

“Trust me, it was more work than it was worth.” Ghost’s attention is slightly peaked.

“You worked on it?” His tone implies he doesn’t care, but his eyes gore into the mirror to lock with your own. Blinking in surprise, even the others seem to be taken aback by the man's lack of venom in his speech. 

Ghost wasn’t afraid to speak his mind when he needed to, but he didn’t do mindless chatter. Your eyes cycle between the driveway and the masked Brit before you clear your throat. Johnny glances at you with a raised brow, slight confusion in his brows. 

“Mostly—left the nasty bits to people more knowledgeable than I am, but I did most of the grunt work, eh?” Simon hums as the car pulls to a stop inside the garage, eyes not leaving the back of your head. 

Your neck bristles at the sensation of unrelenting contact, but the burning that joins it is telltale. Licking your lips you twist the keys out and quickly shuffle out of the door to dispel the electricity in the air. 

“Alright,” you say, “out. All of ya…Johnny, you’ll be helping me with the bedding.” 

A groan is cut by an unimpressed glare. “...Yes, Ma’am.”

You huff and smirk. 

“Trainin’ him well I see,” teasing John as they all file out of the car, he shakes his head at the two of you as Simon scoffs. Gaz openly laughs as Soap’s offended look grows. 

You all enter the house as you direct them to the kitchen after they’ve taken off their boots and hung their jackets. “It’s all in the fridge, heat what you want, and don’t bother fightin’ Johnny if he takes too much. Tell me and I’ll make him sleep in the back near the chickens.” Your voice tells them as you pat your brother on the shoulder. 

Johnny grumbles and kisses the top of your head. “You’re horrible to me,” He jokes but his eyes shimmer with affection. As you leave to get a head start on the rooms, you smile and call out to him.

“That’s my job!” 

Backing out into the hallway, you leave with a deep well of happiness in you. You don’t even realize that the party had only contained three men instead of four until you’re in the linen closet and a shadow suddenly blacks out the light from the bulbs. Jumping slightly, your head swivels as you carry very many sheets and pillowcases in your grip. 

“Oh,” you mumble through cotton, smile growing as the flip in your stomach does, “Ghost! Done eating already?” 

The man is still and silent as he glances from your face to the sheets. Without a word, he halves the load and steals them as your jaw loosens in shock.

“Johnny’s outside callin’ your mum.” Ghost turns and walks out, but waits for you in the hallway to be directed. 

You push down the tightness to your throat and see the man’s feet shift on the hardwood. He looks funny, such a big man carrying bed sheets. His actions make your heart speed up. Brown eyes blink at you like a cat. 

“Well,” you chuckle, “always was one to get out of housework.” Trying a smidge more, you shift past him and turn off the light. “His barracks room dirty?”

“Pigsty.” Simon blandly states, walking slightly behind you. Your pace slows so you can stay beside him. He side-eyes you but says nothing. 

Leaning in slightly, you quip as Ghost tenses, “Can’t say I’m surprised. The man’s used to me bailin’ him out.” Chuckling, you go into the first bedroom and put everything on the bed. 

Simon grabs the pillows and starts to dress them quickly and efficiently. 

“But thank you,” you say, and the Brit pauses to look up at you, something swirling in his murky gaze. Earnestly, you tilt your head with a smile. “Ya can go back and eat more if you want. No need to help—you’re a guest.”

“Not hungry,” is all he answers, and gets back to work. You watch for a moment, perplexed, but not at all about to deny the assistance. A genuine grin twitches your lips. 

“Johnny writes about you, y’know,” your fingers pull at the fabric and you chuckle as Ghost’s incredulous look turns to you—face hidden but confusion is obviously seen. “Says he looks up to you quite a bit; something about Mexico.” 

Your face dips slightly, and Simon’s body stills. Along the pillow, his grip carefully tightens. He can’t find it in himself to walk out of the door and stand outside even if he knows he should. 

“I really can’t imagine what it’s like,” you mutter, shaking your head. Gazing at him, you study his wound muscles and secret flesh like a tapestry—wondering if he hides himself because of the safe anonymity or a sense of numb fear. 

He wouldn’t admit to either, you know. But something about Simon had captured your attention and now you had a face, or just a body really, to put to the written name like a puzzle piece. 

You take a long breath, “But you’ll never know how grateful I am.” 

By the way his chest stops moving and his body goes frozen, you think you hit something inside of him; the minute widening of his eyelids like pedals opening in the light. Simon peers at your expression, his eyes sliding from one point to another. 

Like he can’t really pinpoint what you want. 

Ironic really, because you didn’t want anything. 

“Don’t thank me,” is what he settles on, moving back to the pillow as if your words hadn’t stabbed him. “Johnny knows what he’s doing.”

Your small snort enters the air above the sliding sheets. “There’s no argument there.” A sigh echoes as you finish up, putting your hands on your hips. Across the bed, you two stare as Simon tosses down the pillows. The remainder of the sheets sit on the end of the bed. 

The man’s eyes narrow on you, and he clenches his jaw under his balaclava. 

“The only thing that I do know is that every time my brother comes back he smiles less than he did before.” You side-eye him seriously as you move. “I can only guess what all of it does to the others who don’t have anyone else to go back to.”

Simon’s breath halts in his chest before he finds the means to take down a slow inhale. Brown eyes glare intently, jaw tight, but it’s not the fire that gets to you…it’s the lack thereof.

Ghost doesn’t like this feeling, and your candidness was something he hadn’t expected.

“So,” you drawl, “I’m thanking you for giving him someone to joke around with—a distraction,” a teasing smirk, “no matter how blunt.” 

“I just told you—”

“Well, I don’t bloody care, do I?” Huffing, you smirk and tip your head back before snatching the rest of the sheets. “C’mon, we have three more rooms.” 

Simon watches you leave and tries to fight the rampage in his chest; the merciless slam of his heart to his ribcage. What had you done to him? A hand comes up and rubs into the bridge of his nose, fingers heavy and tight. 

What in the hell was going on? 

Growling under his breath, Ghost stalks out of the room only to see your back disappear into the next. In the hallway, he takes a long inhale and closes his eyes to steady himself. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” the man grunts. The tension in his shoulders was plainly visible. 

For the remainder of the room, Ghost would send you tight glances as he worked but didn’t utter another peep. You had taken his voice, or what little left of it there was. 

In many ways, you were like your loudmouth brother—your snark and your stubbornness. But you were different too. 

He feels his eyes trail down your form slowly from time to time. Capable; hardy. Simon blinked away and grunted under his breath aggressively. 

When everyone was done with their food and Johnny had come back in from his call to his mother, with a soft smile on his face, you knew it was time for bed. 

“Alright,” you strut into the kitchen with Ghost on your heels—his large arms crossed over his chest as he caught Soap's intense stare. The Lieutenant's brow raises, but Johnny only frowns in conspiracy before he looks over to you and itches at his chin. “Beds are made. You can all thank Simon for that, seein’ as Johnny used our mother as an excuse yet again.”

“And she was very pleased to hear from me!” Your brother points to you.

“She’s our mother,” you deadpan, “It’s her job to be, ya arse-face.” 

The boys all follow you down the halls as you point to the rooms. Gaz shakes your hand again and gives you a tiny hug in thanks while John pats your shoulder and calls a soft, “Goodnight, Sweetheart.” 

Both close their doors and you hear the large sighs through the wood. You have to wonder when they’d had a good bed to sleep on and a good meal. Last was your brother and Ghost, the latter of which kisses your head and hugs you tightly. 

“It’s good to see you, truly. Been missing you, little Hen. Thanks for lettin’ me over all the time when I’m home.” You melt and grip his shirt. 

“You’ll always have a place here, you know that. One call away…Now go to sleep. You smell like a pub.” He lightly chuckles against you. With a bond this tight, the two of you never had to say that you loved each other—it was just known.

Johnny squeezes you one last time before pulling away and slinking into his room, giving an unrecognizable glance to Ghost on his way in before the barrier slips into place with a quiet thunk of wood. The two of you look at and stare for a moment. 

“Lucky you,” your voice is quiet but easy to hear, “you get the room with a view of the field.” 

“Color me surprised,” he mutters, not looking enthusiastic. Against the tone, the look makes your mouth jerk in a laugh, and you cover your lips after a moment. 

Simon’s eyes unconsciously soften. 

You wave a hand, chest light, “Let’s go then, you brute.”

“Brute?” Simon grumbles, “Gettin’ familiar?” 

“Please,” you shake your head and walk to the last door in this section of the house. “You all became familiar the second we met.” 

The man rolls his eyes but has his smirk hidden as you open the door for him. He tilts his head in thanks and strolls inside.

You hum, crossing your arms ahead of you and leaning on the doorframe as he looks around, “Don’t think too much over it… The baseline is, you’ll always have a bed here if you need it.” 

Ghost slips out, “What are you? Bloody boarding house?” The swelling in his chest made his words harsher than intended, but you just smile cheekily at him as eyes lock.

“Hell’s bells, if you want ta’ get me a business card just go ahead and print ‘em off already. I’ve no problem with it.” He stares and you laugh, shrugging. “Makes me feel good.”

Splaying your hands, you back out. 

“I know you probably won’t sleep,” Simon pauses, feeling caught but not showing it. “Libraries down the hall—if you smoke, use the back door. Kitchen is free game.”  

“Why?” He asks and you blink, confused.

“Well, why not?” Simon glares.

“You shouldn’t trust people like that.” A loud laugh echoes and makes the man annoyed with you.

“Simon,” you say, and he finds himself hanging on every word that falls from your lips in the moonlight. “Not everyone is out to get you. If you’re friends of Johnny’s, then you’re friends of mine. That boy can sniff a cheat faster than a hound can find a hare.” Perhaps it was the way his shoulders went back at that, or how his brows loosened, but you finish off with a soft explanation. “You’re safe under this roof.”

You wondered, not for that last time that night, if he’d ever been told that. From how his balaclava moved with a sharp jerk of his jaw, you assumed never. It made your lungs hurt. 

With a few more seconds of quiet gazing you nod and move back. 

“Goodnight, Simon.” You leave him staring at the door as you close it—eyes boring into the grain so harshly they might catch fire. 

Ghost doesn’t know how long he stays like that, but his ears twitch at the echo of running water and soundless footsteps. He should leave, he tells himself; this is dangerous, a voice hisses. It’s not safe here, how could it be? There were no guards—no weapons. If someone were to sneak in there wouldn’t be an alarm. 

A secluded home. Nothing around. 

Then why had your words seeped into him?

“You’re safe under this roof.” Simon closes his eyes harshly.

—

In the morning once everyone’s gone back to the base, you admit you don’t know if you’ll see Simon again; you probably won’t. But you find that you can live with that. The memory of his loosening tension is all you need to feel special in your own right. Those brown eyes that, if but for a moment, had bled so effortlessly feelings of something other than blood and death. 

As you sigh a dreamy chuckle to yourself, you get ready for the day before heading to your Hillman. The silent drive to work joins with the strange mix of weight and levitation to your chest. But halfway into town, it hits you. 

Silent.

There is an obvious lack of squeaking from under the hood of your car as you slide along the countryside. 

The smile doesn’t leave your face for weeks.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[theoccultmoon]

Candle Colors: A Beginner's Guide୨ৎ 

Candles are a fundamental tool in witchcraft, offering a powerful way to focus energy and intention. Every color carries its own unique vibrations, making it a versatile and customizable element for your magical practices. Let’s explore the meanings behind some common candle colors and how you can incorporate them into your rituals. 

Color Meanings in Candle Magic

🕯️ White: 

Represents: Purity, peace, clarity, and new beginnings. 

Use for: Cleansing, protection, and healing rituals. White candles are also great substitutes for any color if you're short on supplies. 

🕯️ Black: 

Represents: Banishing negativity, protection, and endings. 

Use for: Releasing bad habits, warding off unwanted energy, and grounding during transformative periods. 

🕯️ Red: 

Represents: Passion, strength, and vitality. 

Use for: Love spells, courage, and boosting energy. Perfect for rituals focused on physical desires or personal empowerment. 

🕯️ Green: 

Represents: Abundance, growth, and connection to nature. 

Use for: Prosperity magic, garden blessings, and healing related to the heart. 

🕯️ Blue: 

Represents: Tranquility, communication, and emotional healing. 

Use for: Enhancing intuition, calming conflicts, and strengthening spiritual connection. 

🕯️ Yellow: 

Represents: Joy, creativity, and mental clarity. 

Use for: Studying, attracting inspiration, and boosting self-confidence. 

🕯️ Purple: 

Represents: Spirituality, psychic abilities, and transformation. 

Use for: Enhancing meditation, connecting with higher powers, and deepening magical knowledge. 

🕯️ Pink: 

Represents: Love, friendship, and harmony. 

Use for: Self-care rituals, strengthening bonds, and emotional healing. 

🕯️ Orange: 

Represents: Energy, enthusiasm, and success. 

Use for: Career growth, creative breakthroughs, and manifesting opportunities. 

🕯️ Brown: 

Represents: Stability, grounding, and connection to the earth. 

Use for: Home blessings, financial security, and balancing scattered energy. 

How to Use Candle Colors in Practice ✮⋆˙

☽ Set Your Intention: 

Decide on your goal for the ritual or spell. Align it with the corresponding candle color. 

☽ Cleansing and Charging: 

Before lighting, cleanse your candle by passing it through the smoke of sage or incense. Hold it in your hands and visualize your intention, “charging” it with your energy. 

☽ Dress the Candle: 

Anoint the candle with oil (like olive or lavender oil) while focusing on your intent. This enhances the connection between your energy and the candle's purpose. 

☽ Light the Flame: 

When you’re ready, light the candle and let it burn completely, if possible. Never leave it unattended,always remember to be safe when working with fire!  

Budget-Friendly Candle Tips.☘︎ ݁˖

♡ Use What You Have: Even a white tea light can be infused with powerful intent. 

♡ DIY Candle Colors: Wrap colored thread or paper around plain candles to mimic the desired color energy. 

♡ Reuse Wax: Collect remnants of old candles to create new ones for future rituals. 

Share Your Candle Magic! ୨ৎ

Do you have a favorite candle color or a personal ritual you'd like to share? Comment below, I’d love to see your practice! 

✨blessings! 

[novaursa]

What about a Jace x sister

Where he fell in love with her and in the same time he is not ok with it. He might be the only Targaryen related who thinks that’s not okay to loved their related. But no matter how he can stopped loving her, she might have a look more “Targaryen” with white hair with some black in it (narcissia Malfoy style?)

He always do some weird shit to be closed to her without drow to much attention, And when they finally get really closed their mother call all the bastard to become dragon rider. And Ulf find them in the Pit and try to get something from them in exchange of his silence.

Jace wake up and choose violence 🫣 and just say no and fuxk her in front of him and say that if he say anything he make sure his dragon will eat him

Sins of the Blood

- Summary: Jacaerys always loved his sister, more than he should. It was wrong, he knew it, but the dragon in him claimed you as his long ago.

- Pairing: sister!reader/Jacaerys Velaryon

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top. Requests are closed!

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 4 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

- A/N: I've bonded the reader with Grey Ghost for the plot.

The sea breeze dances through the open halls of Dragonstone, carrying with it the scent of salt and the distant roar of the waves. You stand with Baela and Rhaena on the sun-warmed terrace overlooking the cliffs, the three of you bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. Your laughter rings out, clear and melodic, mingling with the cries of the gulls that circle above.

Jacaerys Velaryon watches from a distance, his heart heavy with conflicting emotions. He knows he should not be here, should not be watching you so closely, but he cannot help himself. You, his sister, the only daughter of Rhaenyra, have been a constant presence in his life, a source of both comfort and confusion. His eyes trace the silver streaks in your hair, a reminder of your Targaryen blood, mingling with the deep brown inherited from your true father, though only you, he, and his mother know the truth.

He remembers when you were children, how you would chase each other through the halls of the Red Keep, your laughter infectious, your bond inseparable. He had always been protective of you, even when you didn’t need it. You were fierce, a dragon through and through, and yet, as you stand now with Baela and Rhaena, there is a softness to you, a grace that makes his breath catch in his throat.

"Do you remember the first time we flew together?" Baela’s voice pulls him from his thoughts. She grins at you, her violet eyes bright with the memory.

"Of course," you reply, a smile tugging at your lips. "I thought Jace would never let me ride my own dragon, he was so worried."

Jace feels a pang at your words, both pride and regret mingling in his chest. He had always been overly cautious with you, more so than with Luke or Joffrey. Perhaps he had always known, even then, that his feelings for you were not entirely brotherly.

Rhaena giggles, leaning in closer to you. "He’s always been that way, hasn’t he? Always the protector, always looking after you."

You shrug, though the warmth in your eyes betrays your affection. "He cares. That’s just how he is."

Jace clenches his fists at his sides, torn between the pride that swells in him at your words and the guilt that gnaws at him for the thoughts he cannot seem to banish. He knows it is wrong—this desire that burns in him like dragonfire—but it is also undeniably a part of him, a flame that refuses to be extinguished.

Take what is yours. The words echo in his mind, a voice that is both his own and something darker, something ancient. The blood of the dragon runs hot in his veins, urging him to act, to claim what he believes is his by right. You are his sister, yes, but you are also so much more. You are the embodiment of everything he has ever wanted, ever desired.

You turn then, as if sensing his gaze, and your eyes meet his. For a moment, the world seems to stop. The laughter of Baela and Rhaena fades into the background, the sound of the waves dulls, and all he can hear is the pounding of his own heart.

"Jace," you call out, your voice breaking the spell. "Come join us!"

There is no hesitation in your invitation, no hint that you are aware of the storm raging inside him. You are just his sister, inviting him to share in the simple joy of the evening, oblivious to the battle he fights within.

He forces a smile, masking the turmoil beneath, and steps forward. "I was just enjoying the view," he says, his voice betraying nothing.

Rhaena giggles again, nudging Baela. "See, I told you he’s always watching over her."

Baela laughs, a sound like the tinkling of bells. "It’s because he’s a good brother."

The words cut deeper than they should, a cruel reminder of the line he cannot cross. He wants to be a good brother, he truly does. But the blood of the dragon does not care for such boundaries. The blood of the dragon demands more.

As he approaches, you smile up at him, that same smile that has always had the power to calm him, to soothe the fire within. But today, it only stokes the flames higher.

"Are you alright?" you ask softly, your eyes searching his face for something he cannot give.

He nods, the lie slipping easily from his lips. "Of course. Just… thinking."

You raise an eyebrow, a knowing look passing over your face. "You think too much, Jace. You always have."

He laughs, though it is a strained sound. "Someone has to, with you lot always running headlong into trouble."

Baela snorts. "As if you don’t love it."

He shrugs, unable to deny it. "Perhaps."

You laugh then, a sound so pure and unburdened that it twists something deep in his chest. How can you be so carefree, so unaware of the darkness that haunts him?

The conversation drifts to other things—plans for the next dragonride, the latest antics of your younger brothers—but Jace finds it hard to focus. His eyes keep returning to you, to the way the setting sun catches in your hair, to the way your eyes sparkle when you laugh. Every moment is a battle, every word a reminder of what he can never have.

Take what is yours. The voice whispers again, insistent, relentless.

He pushes it down, burying it beneath layers of duty, of honor, of love for his family. But it is there, always there, a part of him that he can never truly silence.

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting the world in shades of orange and gold, you turn to him once more, your expression soft, almost tender.

"Thank you, Jace," you say quietly.

He frowns, unsure of what you mean. "For what?"

You smile, and it is a smile that breaks him, because it is so full of warmth, of trust, of love. "For always being there. For always watching over me."

He swallows hard, forcing down the lump in his throat. "Always," he promises, and it is both a vow and a curse.

You reach out, your hand brushing against his arm, and the simple touch sends a shock through him, setting his nerves alight. For a moment, he forgets himself, forgets everything but you.

But then Baela speaks up, her voice pulling him back to reality. "We should head inside. It’s getting late."

You nod, but your eyes linger on his for a moment longer, as if searching for something, something you cannot name.

Jace watches as you turn away, following Baela and Rhaena back into the castle, your laughter fading into the evening air. He stays behind, his heart a tumult of emotion, his mind a battlefield.

He knows what he feels is wrong. He knows that he should push these thoughts away, should bury them deep where they can never see the light of day. But he also knows that the blood of the dragon is not so easily denied.

As the stars begin to twinkle in the darkening sky, Jace makes a silent vow to himself. He will protect you, he will care for you, as a brother should. But he will also fight this desire, this hunger that threatens to consume him. He will not let it destroy him, or you.

But deep down, he knows that it will be difficult.

And as he watches the last light of day fade into night, he wonders if it ever truly will be.

Months have passed since that evening on the terrace, and yet the fire within Jacaerys Velaryon has not dimmed. If anything, it has only grown stronger, a persistent heat that simmers beneath the surface, threatening to consume him at every turn. He has thrown himself into his duties, into training and studies, hoping that the rigor will burn away these unwanted desires. But nothing works. No matter how hard he tries, he cannot escape the pull you have on him.

Today, he finds himself wandering through the halls of Dragonstone, his mind restless, his heart unsettled. The castle is quiet, the stillness only amplifying his thoughts. His feet carry him to the library, a place he knows you often retreat to when you seek solace or simply a moment of peace. He tells himself it is a coincidence, that he has come here to study, to distract himself with books and knowledge. But deep down, he knows the truth.

As he enters the library, the scent of aged parchment and ink greets him, a familiar comfort. He pauses in the doorway, his eyes scanning the room until they find you, seated near the window, the light of the midday sun casting a soft glow around you. You are engrossed in a book, your silver-streaked hair falling over your face, your expression serene. The sight of you, so peaceful and unguarded, sends a wave of warmth through him, and before he can stop himself, he is walking towards you.

You look up as he approaches, a smile tugging at your lips. "Jace," you greet him, your voice soft and welcoming. "What brings you here?"

He hesitates, his mind racing for an excuse. "I thought I might find you here," he admits, the words tumbling out before he can catch them. "I wanted to see if you needed any help with your studies."

You raise an eyebrow, a playful glint in your eyes. "Since when do you offer to help with my studies?"

He shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. "I just thought... we haven't spent much time together lately. I miss it."

Your expression softens at his words, and you close the book in your hands, setting it aside. "I’ve missed it too," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper.

He can feel the tension between you, a charged energy that crackles in the air. The pull is stronger now, a magnetic force that draws him closer, and before he knows it, he is sitting beside you, his body instinctively leaning towards yours.

"What are you reading?" he asks, his voice rougher than he intended.

You glance at the book, then back at him, a small smile playing on your lips. "A history of Old Valyria. I’ve always been fascinated by our ancestors, by the dragons and the blood magic they wielded."

"Of course," he murmurs, though he hardly registers the words. He is too focused on the way your hand rests so close to his, the way your eyes seem to shimmer in the light. "Our blood is strong, isn’t it? The blood of the dragon."

You nod, your gaze holding his. "It is. It’s what makes us who we are."

The words resonate deep within him, a reminder of the truth he has tried so hard to ignore. The blood of the dragon is what binds you together, but it is also what drives him to the brink of madness. The fire that burns in his veins is not just a curse, but a part of him, a part of you. And he is no longer sure if he can continue to fight it.

"I wanted to ask you something," you say suddenly, breaking the silence that has settled between you.

He blinks, trying to focus. "What is it?"

You hesitate for a moment, as if gathering your thoughts. "I was wondering if you could help me with my dragon training. Grey Ghost is so much more... spirited than he used to be, and I thought maybe you could help me understand him better."

Jace swallows hard, the thought of spending more time with you, alone and away from prying eyes, sending a thrill through him. But it is also dangerous, more dangerous than anything he has faced before. Still, he finds himself nodding. "Of course. I’d be glad to help."

You smile, a smile that warms him from the inside out, and he knows he is lost. He cannot deny you, cannot deny himself any longer. The pull is too strong, the fire too fierce. And as you rise to your feet, gesturing for him to follow, he feels that pull tighten, like a chain around his heart, binding him to you.

The two of you walk side by side through the corridors of Dragonstone, the silence between you comfortable, yet charged with an unspoken tension. Your presence is a balm to him, calming and yet igniting something deep within, something he can no longer ignore. Every brush of your arm against his, every glance in his direction, fans the flames higher, until he feels as though he might burst from the sheer force of it.

When you reach the courtyard where the dragons are kept, you turn to him, your eyes bright with excitement. "Let’s start with the basics," you say, your voice full of eagerness. "You’ve always been better at this than I am."

Jace shakes his head, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. "It’s not about being better," he says, trying to keep his voice steady. "It’s about understanding them, forming a bond with them."

You nod, your attention fully on him now, and he feels a surge of pride at the trust you place in him. "I know," you say softly. "And I trust you to help me."

The words strike him like a blow, the weight of your trust almost too much to bear. He wants to be worthy of it, to be the brother you believe him to be. But he also wants more, so much more, and it terrifies him.

As you step closer to him, your arm brushing against his, he feels that pull again, stronger than ever. He knows he should move away, put some distance between you, but he cannot bring himself to do it. Instead, he finds himself leaning in, his body drawn to yours like a moth to flame.

"You know," you say, your voice barely above a whisper, "I’ve always felt safest when I’m with you."

The confession catches him off guard, and he looks down at you, his heart pounding in his chest. "Why?"

You smile up at him, a gentle, almost shy smile. "Because you’ve always been there for me, Jace. No matter what."

His breath catches in his throat, the intensity of the moment almost too much to bear. The pull between you is undeniable now, a force of nature that neither of you can resist. And as you stand there, so close that he can feel the warmth of your breath on his skin, he knows that he is about to cross a line that he can never return from.

But before he can act, before he can make the decision that will change everything, you reach out and take his hand in yours, your fingers curling around his. The simple touch sends a jolt of electricity through him, and he is lost, completely and utterly lost.

"Jace," you whisper, your voice trembling with something unspoken.

He looks down at you, his heart in his throat, and he knows that this is it. This is the moment he has been dreading, the moment he has been craving. The pull between you is too strong, the fire too fierce, and he knows that there is no going back.

But then, as if sensing the turmoil within him, you give his hand a gentle squeeze, your eyes full of warmth and understanding. "Thank you," you say, your voice soft and sincere. "For always being there."

And just like that, the moment passes. The tension between you eases, and you step back, releasing his hand. The pull is still there, still strong, but it is no longer overwhelming. For now, it is enough to simply be with you, to feel your presence beside him, to know that you trust him.

As you turn your attention back to the dragons, Jace takes a deep breath, steadying himself. The battle within him is far from over, but for now, he has won a small victory. He has resisted the pull, resisted the fire. But he knows it is only a matter of time before the dragon within him demands more.

And when that time comes, he is not sure if he will be able to resist.

The winds howl around the jagged peaks of Dragonmont, the volcanic heart of Dragonstone. The sky above is dark, thick clouds swirling in ominous patterns, but here, beneath the shelter of the mountain, you and Jacaerys find solace in the company of your dragons. Vermax and Grey Ghost, their massive forms partially obscured by the mist that clings to the rocky terrain, rest quietly nearby, their watchful eyes ever alert.

The air between you and Jace is charged, as it has been for days now. Since the arrival of the Dragonseeds and the beginning of the Red Sowing, there has been an unspoken tension, a shared anxiety that neither of you has fully voiced. Today, it seems, that silence is about to be broken.

Jace paces before you, his brow furrowed, his steps uneven. "I can’t help but worry," he finally says, his voice low, almost a growl. "Mother’s decision to let these Dragonseeds try to claim the dragons… it could destroy everything. The only thing that sets us apart, that makes us legitimate in the eyes of the realm, is our bond with the dragons. What happens if anyone can do it? What happens if they succeed?"

You watch him, feeling the weight of his concern settle over you like a heavy cloak. You understand his fear; it echoes within you as well. "They are Targaryen bastards, Jace," you say softly, trying to find the right words. "The blood of the dragon runs in their veins, even if the world doesn’t see them as we are seen. But you are right to be cautious. We cannot control what might happen if they succeed. But we can control how we respond."

He stops pacing, turning to face you fully. His dark eyes are intense, filled with worry and something deeper, something you’ve seen growing there in recent days. "What if it shatters everything? What if the realm no longer sees us as the rightful heirs? If they can claim dragons, what does that mean for us?"

You rise from your seat on a smooth outcropping of rock, moving closer to him, your steps slow and deliberate. You can feel the warmth of the dragons nearby, the heat from the mountain beneath your feet, but most of all, you feel the heat radiating from Jace, a fire that matches your own.

"We are more than our dragons," you say, your voice steady. "We are the blood of the dragon, yes, but we are also our mother’s children, the heirs of House Targaryen. That will not change, no matter what happens with the Dragonseeds."

Jace’s gaze softens as he looks at you, the storm in his eyes momentarily easing. "You always know what to say," he murmurs, his voice barely more than a whisper. "But I’m still afraid. Afraid of what this means for us, for our family."

You reach out, your hand finding his, and the contact sends a spark through you both. "Then we face it together," you say firmly, your fingers tightening around his. "Whatever comes, we face it together, as we always have."

For a moment, there is only silence between you, the kind of silence that speaks louder than words. The dragons are quiet too, their presence a comforting weight in the background. Jace’s thumb brushes over your knuckles, and the simple touch sends a shiver down your spine, the connection between you deepening with each passing second.

Without thinking, you step closer, and suddenly the space between you is gone. You can feel his breath on your skin, warm and unsteady, and the intensity in his eyes is almost too much to bear. The pull between you is stronger than ever, an undeniable force that you can no longer resist.

"Jace," you whisper, your voice trembling with something unspoken, something that has been building for so long.

He doesn’t reply, at least not with words. Instead, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that is both hesitant and eager, as if he is afraid you might pull away. But you don’t. Instead, you kiss him back, your hands moving to cup his face, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepens, all the pent-up emotions of the past weeks, months, perhaps even years, pouring out in that single moment. It is as if the fire that has always burned between you has finally found release, and there is no stopping it now.Jace’s hands find their way to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you can feel the desperation in his touch, the need that mirrors your own. "I’ve wanted this for so long," he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough with desire.

"So have I," you admit, the words coming out in a breathless rush. "Jace, I—"

He silences you with another kiss, more urgent this time, and you can feel his hands moving to the fastenings of your attire. There is a moment of hesitation, a final chance to turn back, but neither of you takes it. Instead, you help him, your fingers trembling as they work to undo his clothing as well.

The air is cool against your skin as your garments fall away, but you hardly notice. All you can focus on is Jace, on the way his hands move over your body, on the way he looks at you as if you are the only thing that matters in the world. And perhaps, in this moment, you are.

He guides you down onto the warm rock, his movements careful, almost reverent. The heat from the mountain seeps into your skin, mixing with the heat of his touch, and you feel yourself trembling, not from fear, but from anticipation.When he finally joins with you, the pain is brief, a sharp sting that quickly fades, leaving only the overwhelming sensation of being completely and utterly connected to him. Jace pauses, his eyes searching yours, as if waiting for your permission to continue.

You nod, your voice caught in your throat, but the look in your eyes says everything. "Please," you whisper, and that is all it takes.

He begins to move, slow at first, almost tentative, but as the moments pass, the hesitation fades, replaced by a growing urgency, a passion that neither of you can control. You cling to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders, urging him on, meeting his every movement with your own.

The world around you fades, the sounds of the dragons, the wind, the distant roar of the sea, all becoming nothing more than a distant echo. There is only Jace, only the fire that burns between you, the flames that consume you both, driving you higher and higher until you feel as though you might burst from the sheer intensity of it.

Just as you reach the peak of your union, lost in the sensation of him, you hear a sound, the soft crunch of footsteps on the volcanic rock. Your eyes snap open, and you see him—Ulf the White, one of the Dragonseeds, standing a short distance away, his expression one of surprise and amusement.

Jace’s movements slow as he becomes aware of the intruder, but he doesn’t stop, his body still pressed intimately against yours. His eyes narrow, and you can feel the tension in him, the protective instinct that flares up at the sight of another man watching you in such a vulnerable moment.

Ulf’s smirk widens as he recognizes both of you, his voice carrying an easy confidence as he speaks. "Well, well, what do we have here? Prince Jacaerys and his fair sister, indulging in some… private time, I see."

Jace doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze locked on Ulf, his body shielding yours from view. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, dangerous. "You will leave now, Ulf. And you will speak of this to no one."

Ulf’s amusement doesn’t fade. "And if I don’t? I imagine this little secret could be worth quite a bit."

Jace’s expression hardens, the dragon within him rising to the surface. "I have another proposition for you. Leave now and never speak of this, or tell someone… and Vermax will feast on your bones."

The threat hangs in the air, thick with the promise of violence. Ulf’s smile falters, the realization of Jace’s seriousness sinking in. He glances at the dragons, both Vermax and Grey Ghost now fully alert, their eyes locked on him, and he takes an involuntary step back.

"Fine," Ulf mutters, the bravado gone from his voice. "Your secret’s safe with me, Prince Jacaerys. I was never here." With that, he turns and hurries away, casting one last nervous glance at the dragons before disappearing into the mist.

Jace watches him go, his body still tense, but as the danger passes, his attention shifts back to you, his focus returning to the moment you had both been lost in. The fire that had momentarily cooled begins to burn again, his hands finding yours, his gaze intense.

"I will marry you," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "In the traditions of our ancestors, in the ways of Old Valyria. You are mine, and I am yours, for now and forever."

The words send a shiver through you, the weight of them, the promise in them, filling you with a sense of certainty, of belonging. You nod, your voice trembling as you respond. "Yes, Jace. Yes."

And as he moves within you once more, the world around you falls away, leaving only the two of you, bound together by the fire of your blood.

[nautls11]

ok but hear me out: riptide x slay the princess (big ol yap sesh and closeups below)

Chip: The Spectre

109, obviously, but also the spectre’s yearning for what once was, wanting back her “freedom” of the life she had before. The parallels between the spectre’s longing and Chip’s longing for his life with the Black Rose Pirates work so well together. Another factor is how Chip needed to learn that he was not alone anymore. He had a crew, friends, captains, siblings. Through his ups and downs, he learned respect, trust, honor, and responsibility; he learned to love again with a fiery passion he had not felt since he sailed alongside Arlin.

“I offer you absolution, and you take my hand in yours.

You felt the pain you caused another, and you were willing to sacrifice everything you thought was you to set me free.

Without sin, there is no redemption.”

“This one is vaporous. She is a dream of a life she could never have, but that longing has given her so much capacity for Kindness. She will make for a yearning heart.

Do not mourn her — she will finally be able to hold What she never knew.”

Jay: The Cage

I was heavily debating between Jay and Gill for this one, but the Cage’s final confrontation is what sold Jay for me. Her constant fear of abandoning her blood family because she has already lost so much (her sister, and soon her mother), that abandoning the last shred of family she has left would be losing everything. It is her inaction which drives much of her conflict, balancing the line between Ferin and pirate, because no matter which side she turns to, she is always afraid, because she always has something to lose. There are times where she feels like she can only watch from afar and see what will happen (especially in the case of lizzie’s war), but she must understand that inaction is most often a deficit. She has proven herself time and time again to others, she just needs to prove it to herself.

“Fear is a chain around the neck and a needle in the eye.

It was fear that made our prison, and it was fear that told the lie that

our spirits were not free to choose.

But together we left it all behind, and found a world free of burdens.

We found the beauty in accepting our dance.

This construct is a machine of fear. It has no place in our divine hearts.

Shatter it. Leave with me.”

“This one is a body that convinced herself she was only a set of eyes. She will make for a watchful heart.

Do not mourn her. She is now what she wished that she could be.”

Gill: The Drowned Grey

Unlike the others, I couldn’t really find a princess that fit gill as well as the others did, so I decided to do a more specific moment of gill’s story for his princess: his oath of vengeance and dunjon arc.

The Drowned Grey is a story of hurt, loss, and rebirth. Gill loses everything; his friends, his closest companion, and is taken away from the life he once knew to be trapped in an endless white void, to be judged by the apparitions of those who had always judged him before. He is raw, violent emotion, rage being the only way he knows to understand his pain, and thus inflicts it onto others. His actions endangered those who wanted to help him be because all he could process was his loss. And that loss he screamed at the elder’s with his entire soul, only to be swept away in the dark depths of Niklaus’ control. But after the anger, was his rebirth. He was never meant to remain in an endless void for eternity, and Born anew in the eye of a leviathan’s storm, the violence and grief was left behind him in the cold icy storm. He had his catharsis, leaving those demons behind him in the darkest depths.

“I kill you. You kill me. Back and forth we go, faster and faster and faster. I kill you. You kill me.

Hollow eyes watch from the dark corners of a forgotten place flooded by emotions left unspoken. The tide rises.

I kill you and me.

An ending is a passion that can only be expressed with a moment in time. It is a seed for a new beginning. To linger on an ending is to rob it of its life.

And without me, all that's left to do is linger.”

“This one is guarded sorrow. She saw herself as alone but in the end had courage to share with another. She will make for a deep heart.

Do not mourn her - she has finally been heard.”

anyways uhh thanks for coming to my tedtalk, i lowkey wanna do this for other campaigns, currently thinking about prime defenders and the suckening so ye 👍👍

[goldenwoods]

This post is about the gaiman situation.

Right off the bat, fuck him and his associates. It's rare for someone in a position of power to get what they deserve but I hope he joins that short list. And I wish the victims well. What a horrible situation to be abused by a man masquerading as a champion for inclusivity and human rights.

That said, I don't understand the vitriol put towards people who're trying to recontextualise their relationship to gaiman's media in light of the revelations. I'm talking about those posts and comments getting angry at people for grieving, accusing them of not prioritising the victims.

Which is such an unwarranted accusation. Obviously, if they're under a post or article about the victim's testimony and they go "my season 3 :(((" or "my poor characters don't deserve this :("in the comment section then yeah, they're pretty disgusting. But the same accusations shouldn't be levied at people trying to come to terms with the fact that their formative experience was written by a monster ON THEIR OWN BLOG.

This isn't putting fictional characters before victims, it's just that there can't be much said about such a black and white situation that isn't already said by a million other posts ("fuck gaiman, fuck his supporters, hope the victims get justice"), whereas how a reader themselves deal with the fall of someone they've put on a pedestal is a much more complicated and nuanced process that they have to think through. If anything, I think it's a sign of a healthy community who treat 'fuck gaiman' as common sense and not something that needs arguments about. I don't know if there are ways to help the victims yet beyond just showing support on social media (let me know if i've missed something), but I don't think going after any fan daring to talk about their own relationship to the text is helpful at all. And I can guarantee you those who're grappling with how they feel towards the text now –– those feeling betrayed and angry –– will be quick to rally to support the victims because they're only feeling conflicted because of how disgusted they are with the author.

(For context, I don't feel attached to Gaiman at all so this is not related to any personal stakes I have in this. I enjoyed GO the show, but never read or watched any of his works otherwise. I was planning to get a copy of GO the book but the allegations surfaced first so that didn't end up happening either. I am partial to David and Michael's acting but even then I'm just a casual fan and if they react in a disappointing way to the Gaiman situation, I feel like I could stop consuming their works without much emotional turmoil.)

EDIT: since this is getting a fair bit of attention, i want to summarise my midnight ramble a bit: the crux of the problem is that lots of people treat this blogspace as a mega-conversation, which is how the 'you're not focussing on the victims enough' accusation come up. Think if you're in a conversation about how person A had been hurt by B: OF COURSE your response should be 'gosh that's fucked up. hope A's doing okay', and if your response ON THE SPOT is 'ohhhhh shit i don't know how to feel about the fact that I used to really like B lemme monologue about my complicated emotions out loud' then yeah you're the problem. But if you respond compassionately but spend a sizeable amount of time afterwards in your own head ruminating over how you used to think B was a really good person? ...then you're just a normal human being with a moral compass. Tumblr is the latter and not the former. It's the collection of dumping grounds for people's thoughts, not an online forum that give you a measure of where people's priorities are.

[lcvemiyuki]

“crossed lines” | tsukishima, hq

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋🎧ྀི - "the walls" by chase atlantic

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓊝 ࿐𓂃𓂃𓂃

content: he thought he knew the answers to everything and made sure to map out his every action. yet, none could rationalize the way you made his insides churn with a burn of conflicting emotions

warnings: suggestive (no smut!), enemies-to-lovers (they dislike each other), college student!tsukishima, swearing, fem!reader, lots of tension, pov switching

character(s): tsukishima

word count: 1518

a/n: heavily inspired by that riff part in 'the walls' by chase atlantic (had to listen to it a million times to perfectly describe it as in my head lolol)...this is my 1st time writing something so intense AHHH, i hope you like it!

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

“Tsukki, wait!” Yamaguchi’s voice echoed into the rain-soaked street, the downpour muffling his words to a mere whisper against the relentless pattering of raindrops on the cobblestone pavement. 

“She’s such an idiot,” Tsukishima muttered under his breath, his annoyance palpable in the tightness of his voice as he followed your retreating figure, a lone silhouette against the cold, relentless rain. Yamaguchi had just relayed the latest news about your on-again, off-again boyfriend. The twitch in Tsukishima’s right eye, a clear sign of his irritation, was hidden by his black-rimmed glasses, but the tension in his body language was unmistakable.

He couldn’t believe you were storming out from the dorms into the darkness yet again. 

An invisible force pulled him in your direction, but instead of a gentle tug, it was more like a high-speed collision. The more Yamaguchi detailed the fiasco with your so-called “Mr. Perfect,” the tighter Tsukishima’s fists clenched until his knuckles turned a ghostly white. When he finally released his grip, deep red nail marks were etched into his pale skin. He didn’t hear his friend’s confused questions; all he could hear was the ringing in his ears and the pounding of his own heart in his chest, like a desperate drum seeking his attention as he followed after you.

When he finally caught up to you, he reached out, his hand hovering just above your shoulder before he firmly turned you around to face him. 

Your eyes were red and puffy from crying, a testament to the pain you were feeling, and your hand instantly rejected his touch, aggressively shrugging off his hold. 

“Are you seriously thinking about taking him back?” His voice cut through the thundering rain, raised just enough to be heard over the downpour. You scoffed in disbelief, tightening your grip on the baby pink umbrella, trying to recompose yourself.

“And what’s it to you, huh?” you snapped, your voice wavering with emotion as you lifted your chin defiantly. 

If this day could get any worse, it had to involve seeing his annoyingly, fault-finding face. He always acted with judgment and you knew he looked down on your every mistake. And what made it worse was that his opinion always spoke some cut-throat truth you couldn't swallow.

Now here he was, sticking his nose into your business and voicing his input.

“You just don’t get it, do you?” His eyes narrowed, his voice dripping with disdain. “It’s pitiful.”

His t-shirt clung to his body, soaked through, but the heat of the moment kept the shivers at bay. You were infuriating, and he knew the feeling was mutual.

So why did he feel compelled to chase after you?

He should be sneering at your stupidity. Yet, here you were, crowding his thoughts, his vision, everything.

His insults only fueled your anger, the words cutting deeper than you wanted to admit. Yet, beneath the rage, a sliver of fear crept in—fear that he might be right. It was the unspoken truth that gnawed at you, the one everyone else probably thought but never dared to voice. But Tsukishima, with his sharp tongue and piercing gaze, had no such reservations.

If Tsukishima excelled at one thing, it was his uncanny ability to read you like an open book. He knew you too well, his eyes always catching the smallest, most insignificant details that he would mercilessly call out. Every comment was a well-aimed dart, hitting precisely where you were most vulnerable. It was infuriating how effortlessly he could unravel you, laying bare your insecurities with a few well-chosen words.

You clenched your fists, feeling the sting of his remarks, the heat of your anger battling the cold edge of your fingertips. His words echoed in your mind, a relentless reminder of the truths you tried to bury. Despite the fury blazing in your chest, you couldn't shake the nagging thought that he saw you more clearly than anyone else ever could. And that realization, more than his biting words, left a pit in your stomach.

The truth made you want to scream out into the looming darkness.

“Pitiful?” you questioned as your feet stepped down the curb, “if I’m so pathetic, then leave me be. Go project your judgment onto someone else other than rubbing it in my fucking face” you spat out harshly.

You didn’t want to deal with him tonight, not when you felt the weight of his words slowly sinking into your pores. You turned around to flee, but Tsukishima’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Wait.”

You paused but didn’t turn back. His voice, though steady, carried an intensity that made your heart race—a quiet before the storm that left you both anxious and drawn in.

“Why do you care so much?” you mustered, your voice cracking slightly as you tried to stand your ground. When there was no response to be heard, you hesitantly turned around once more.

And the sight was maddening.

His blonde locks, usually slightly short, now stretched longer down his forehead, the rain streaming down his face. Although his whole body was soaked from head to toe, his expression remained unchanged. He looked on toward you, eyes darkened and burning holes in your body. His head tilted slightly as if he was trying to piece together what you were thinking—or maybe, reanalyzing his own.

“Tsukishima, why do you care?” you demanded once more.

Maybe it was the curiosity that urged you to repeat yourself; maybe it was the way you’ve never seen the six-foot-two man in front of you look so—disheveled.

He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, he took a step closer, almost unconsciously, as if he didn’t even know what he was doing. Those golden-brown eyes burned with a mix of frustration and something else you couldn’t quite place. Your heart raced as your breath escaped in a long, slow huff through your nose. Your glazed eyes locked onto his, watching tiny droplets slide down his glasses and cling to his long lashes. The heat between you was palpable; the rain felt like gasoline, fueling the raging fire.

“Why do I care?” he whispered, his voice barely audible as his gaze fixated on your lips. It was as if he was echoing your words, distracted by the movement of your mouth as his eyebrows furrowed.

‘Because I burn with emotions that you sear into my whole being’

“Because you’re aggravating,” he seethed through gritted teeth, his frustration evident in the sharp edge of his voice. Yet, despite his irritation, his gaze remained fixated on your lips. 

You felt the intensity of his gaze, a magnetic pull that seemed to draw every fiber of your being towards him. 

But just as quickly as the moment had built, Tsukishima pulled back, his expression hardening once more. His jaw clenched tensely, taking a step back while his gaze shifted, trying to focus on something else. The uncertainty still lingered in the narrow space between you. 

“Just forget it,” he spoke under his breath. Turning on his heel, he walked away, leaving you standing there, frozen and stranded for answers. 

You watched him retreat, the distance between you growing with each step. Your heart pounded in your chest, a tumult of emotions circulating inside you. You thought he was leaving for good as the breath you exhaled was shaky.

But then, he stopped—standing there for several aching seconds. 

His gaze shifted among the surrounding objects as if building a barrier to contain his internal uncertainty. He swallowed the growing lump in his throat, the weight of his conflicting emotions settling heavily in his stomach. Each thought rushed through his mind like a relentless torrent, creating a storm of confusion and frustration.

He couldn't pinpoint exactly why he felt this way, why he cared so much. 

The analytical part of his mind tried to dissect every possible reason, but the emotions swirling inside him defied logical explanation. 

He shouldn't have followed you out here.

He wanted to escape the turmoil, to drown out the noise in his mind.

 “—Fuck it,” he muttered. 

And something inside him snapped. 

He turned back and closed the distance between you in a few long strides; his cold hands cupping your face.

Before you could muster a word, his lips came crashing onto yours.

The kiss was fierce, filled with all the pent-up frustration and anger. His lips moved against yours with a desperate urgency, as if trying to convey all the things he couldn’t put into words. You responded in kind, caught up in the whirlwind of emotions. Your hands instinctively found their way to his soaked shirt. You gripped the fabric tightly as if trying to anchor yourself in the storm that was Tsukishima.

At that moment, the precarious line of his loathing finally broke. 

The intense curiosity that had simmered beneath his animosity surged to the forefront. He was engrossed by a burning desire to understand the root of it all. 

Why did you consume him entirely? 

The need for answers outweighed his self-imposed boundaries, and he crossed the line he had sworn never to.

𓇼𓆉𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆉𓇼

want more?

⤷ masterlist.

[solitude4chiron]

Hobie Headcannons cs some of y’all be treating this man like he’s some white goth nga that’s never had black experiences 😭😭 these are js off the top of my head so don’t tweak out… JUH VIBE

He’s most likely Jamaican/British or African/British because he’s from the UK

He has had multiple people try to force him into playing basketball at least once because he’s 6’5

“Man, so you telling me you ain’t never tried going D1?”

“Never even played.”

“NIGGA WHAT?”

Has gotten his hand popped multiple times from touching his hair while getting it done

“How many do you have left?”

“Boy move that damn hand.”

Gives horrible advice then says “but I don’t kno, thats just me”

“She cheated on me bru. Like cheated. Called me ON FACETIME while they was hunchin.”

“Me personally I would find the guy and start a gas leak in their house while his family is sleeping. But ion kno, that’s just me tho.”

Played soccer as a kid with a makeshift paper soccer ball

Was one of those kids who were forced to finish their plate before leaving the dinner table so he would sit at the table till the next day playing with his food

Illegally listens to and downloads most of the music he likes

“Wanna do a Spotify blend?”

“Y’all use that shi?”

“who df are you bro…”

Will side eye you till you burst out laughing if you both see something crazy in public 

Sung chi-chi man religiously as a child before he knew what the song meant (iykyk)

Takes pictures of white people with braids or locs

Hobie: Attachment: 1

disgusting creatures…

Hangs trash bags on his doorknobs around the house

Had entire debates as a child with older people at the cookout on why he should be able to eat ribs instead of hotdogs

“These steaks for the adults, go grab a lil hotdog and a juice.”

“But why? Can’t we both eat and enjoy the same things without you having to dehumanize me and view me only as a child without preferences for food?”

“Boy go get that fuckin hotdog and caprisun get out my face.”

Had his hairline pushed back astronomically far when he was little (Nigerian boy canon event)

On the other hand he probably never had his hair cut as a kid and started free-forming when he was young (I’m conflicted between both)

Constantly had a smart mouth as a kid (he still does), like CONSTANTLY. Once he got his lips snatched and balled into a fist

Would steal, get caught and say is “it cause I’m black?”

“Yo, were you stealing back there?”

“Why bruv? Cause I’m black?”

“Nevermind.”

Touches hot ass food with his bare hands. Like he will flip pancakes with his hands.

Can literally sleep anywhere.. like anywhere. People in his band have pictures of him hunched over on sinks, sleeping on bathroom floors, in bathtubs with the curtains wrapped around him, on the bus. Anywhere you can think of.

He doesn’t spend much money on birthday gifts or gifts in general. He likes to make things by hand even if he has to spend a few weeks

After his shows he loves to meet people in the crowd, even if they freak out. He isn’t really for the idolizing so he doesn’t know how to express his emotions too much on that.

“OH MY GOD HOBIE!?!”

“i aint think i was that special but thanks luv”

• His jacket makes HELLA noise and he doesn’t realize it. Just like if he had beads in his hair.

“imma get bro good this time..”

“Hobie don’t even try to scare me, i hear that big ass jacket thumpin down the hallway.”

• The first time he kissed a girl with lip piercings like his, they got caught on each other. They sat there for almost half and hour trying to untangle each other without hurting each other.

• He’s definitely been called a few different celebrities before, none really looked like him.

“Are you playboi carti?!”

“Bruv.”

over.

“Your that rockstar dude lancey right?”

“bru…”

and over.

“you Opium?”

“I’m starting to feel this is lowkey sterotypical…”

and over again.

• When he’s in the pit at concerts he looks out for the younger people towards the front to make sure they don’t get thrashed around too hard.

“you good young’n?”

“I CANT FEEL MY FACE”

“that’s cool too”

• He only really steals from big corporations, not small family owned places. Just out of respect. Even when they say he can take things for free he still pays, maybe a few dollars over budget.

• He loves collecting trinkets and little things he finds on the streets or backstage. He has multiple spoons, buttons and scrap fabrics laying around

• When he first learned about capitalism he realized it everywhere, like EVERYWHERE. That boy was pissed.

• He loves girls who can beat him tf up, like whoop his ass. Or girls who will cuss him tf out. Sometimes you both will be arguing and he’ll just sit back and let you go off on him.

anyways yawl that’s it lmk if I should drop some more this was fun asl to make 😛

[corydora-writes]

A Glimpse of Us

Summary: You've been married to Bruce Wayne for the past three years, an arrangement initially orchestrated as a strategic alliance. With time, genuine affection and love blossomed between you. Burdened by his internal conflicts, Bruce vehemently denied his feelings and distanced himself from you, cloaking his emotions in an impenetrable facade. Then, an unexpected and mysterious visitor from the future compels him to confront the undeniable truth of his feelings for you.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Plus Size Female Reader

Expect a blend of fluff and angst. Reader is of fairy & human lineage.

Word Count: 5,356

A/N: So, here I go again. I don't know. I just have a thing for happy families and fairies, I guess. But hey, I wrote this two years ago and felt like sharing it. Also… I didn’t bother to edit it much. But nonetheless, ENJOY! X

The Batcave hummed with a low, almost silent energy. The air was thick with the scent of ozone and the distant whirring of the Batcomputer. Bruce Wayne, clad in the familiar black armor, stared at the unmistakable crimson beacon on the screen. Beside the beacon was your photo and your current location. You were working tirelessly at your clinic in Gotham. Bruce knew you were safe, not that you needed any protection. He had observed you multiple times on the battlefield amidst the chaos and danger and was genuinely impressed by your skill and composure under pressure. 

Bruce vividly recalled the first time he encountered you during a covert mission with the Justice League Dark, where he was introduced to your existence in the most unexpected circumstances. As was his vigilant and cautious nature, he initially harbored suspicions about you, questioning your motives and abilities. However, you remained indifferent to his opinions, exuding an air of confidence that left a lasting impression. You made it unequivocally clear that his concerns were his own and owed him no explanations, standing your ground with unwavering resolve. 

Bruce couldn't help but smile as he reminisced about the past, recalling the intensity of that initial encounter and the unexpected turn of events. Little did he know that a simple partnership would eventually lead to marriage, which seemed unimaginable amid initial skepticism and guarded interactions.

Three years. It had been three years since your arranged marriage, a union born from the need to bridge the gap between two worlds. He, the human that was best suitable for you, and you, the fairy-human queen of a realm beyond the veil. The initial resentment had long simmered down to a dull ache, replaced by a love that felt like a betrayal, a betrayal of his vows, his mission, his very being. Instead of being truthful and honest, he told you that he never saw this arrangement becoming more than mere duty. And so, he cowardly pushed you away, encouraged you to date others, to find happiness outside your arranged marriage. But the truth was, he couldn't bear the thought of you with anyone else and a sense of great, hurtful regret pierced his heart when he saw you on a date with Kyle Rayner. And despite that, Bruce felt that the way you smiled, your laugh, the sparkle in your eyes, it all belonged to him, even if he refused to admit it.

He had hoped his avoidance would make the feelings fade, but instead, each passing day amplified them. He craved your touch, the soft brush of your fingers against his skin, the warmth of your embrace. It was torture, this yearning he couldn't acknowledge.

The red dot on the screen, now pulsating with a rhythmic urgency, pulled his gaze back from the memories. It was time.

'Alfred, I'm going out.'

'Very well, Master Bruce. Mind the streets, and be careful.' Alfred said.

Bruce, mid-way through donning his utility belt, froze when a blinding white light erupted from the cavern's entrance, momentarily eclipsing everything. As his vision adjusted, Bruce saw a towering silhouette, broad-shouldered and cloaked in darkness, silhouetted against the fading light.

'Who are you?' Bruce roared, his voice echoing in the cavern. But the figure remained silent, a stoic enigma, and then vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

Bruce, adrenaline coursing through him, cautiously approached the direction of the blinding light. His gaze fell upon a simple, woven basket resting on the cold concrete floor. Inside, nestled in a bed of soft fabric, lay a tiny infant, their face still and peaceful.

He surveyed the scene with a cold, distant gaze, his eyes tracing the sleeping face of the baby. A tremor ran through him, a shiver of something he couldn't quite place. 

A note folded neatly, sat beside the basket. Bruce picked it up, his heart pounding in his chest. His eyes scanned the familiar script, a calligraphy he recognized but couldn't quite place. It read simply, 'Keep her safe. I will be back for her.'

Alfred's attention shifted to the basket, his normally stoic features contorting with bewilderment. He knelt beside it, his eyes wide at the sight of the baby.

'Master Bruce,' Alfred rasped, his voice barely a whisper, “She…  she has the Wayne emblem.'

Bruce's own gaze fell on the tiny silver emblem pinned to the infant’s swaddling clothes. The emblem, a symbol of his family’s legacy, now marked this tiny stranger.

He glanced at Alfred, who stood beside him, his usually impassive face etched with concern. 

“Alfred, is everything alright?" Bruce asked, needing the reassurance of a familiar voice in the wake of the impossible. “Is she… is she okay?”

"Certainly, Master Bruce," Alfred replied, his voice steady. "Except for the extraordinary circumstance that just transpired. I must confess, I have never seen anything like it."

With trembling hands, he studied the note once more. The handwriting was unmistakable—the flowing penmanship, the distinctive slant…

“Alfred,” Bruce uttered. “I- I think I wrote this note.” 

Alfred looked away from the sleeping oblivious baby and turned his gaze to Bruce.

“This doesn't make sense. I've always been against time travel. I have cautioned Barry Allen against his impulsive use of the Speed Force for reckless time travel,” Bruce said firmly. 

Time travel was a game of dominoes, one misplaced move, one alteration, and the entire future could crumble. 

Alfred smiled. "Indeed, sir. But allow me to propose an alternate perspective. Your future self may not have been reckless. He may have simply been acting as a father protecting his child. All rules and protocols are rendered moot when the safety of a loved one is at stake."

Bruce carefully took a small pinch of blood from the baby's heel. 

"Batcomputer, DNA analysis. Cross-reference with all known subjects in the Wayne database. And, I need a full medical report." 

"Initiating cross-reference procedure. Estimated time of completion: two hours."

He turned to Alfred who had the baby cradled in his arms. “Alfred, take the child to Y/N. She can check her to ensure she’s healthy. And bring her up to speed. Inform her about… everything.” 

The air hung heavy with unspoken questions, anxieties simmering beneath the surface. Alfred, his face etched with concern, nodded, carefully cradling the sleeping baby. 

“What will you do, sir, in the meantime?” he asked, his voice laced with an undercurrent of worry.

Bruce’s eyes, dark and bottomless, met Alfred’s. “I will wait for the results. We need to know, Alfred. We need to understand.”

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps it's unnecessary, sir. The baby bears an uncanny resemblance to both you and Dr. Y/L/N."

Bruce’s jaw tightened, a flicker of incredulity crossing his face. “I know, Alfred. That’s precisely what defies logic. I need to know if this is… possible. If what I’m seeing… is real.”

“I understand,” Alfred said firmly. He respected Bruce's request. As the butler carried the infant away, Bruce retreated to the colossal screen. 

The Batcave was silent save for Bruce’s loud thoughts. 

Bruce found himself unable to continue his vigilante activities as Batman. His need for facts gnawed at him incessantly. After an interminable wait, the Batcomputer whirred to life, casting an eerie glow across the cavern. Bruce observed, his heart racing as the data streamed across the illuminated screen.

Bruce stumbled back, his hand instinctively reaching for the support of the lab counter.

The Batcomputer’s monotone voice echoed through the lab. 

DNA results for the six-month-old alien subject: maternal match - Y/N L/N; paternal match - Bruce Thomas Wayne. The alien subject possesses magical abilities, some are dormant at birth. Recommend further study and careful observation.

—

As the clock struck 10:00 pm, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief after a long and tiring day at your clinic. The thought of finally returning to the warmth and comfort of your cottage was a comforting prospect. As you gathered your belongings, the exhaustion started to lift, and you looked forward to reveling in a book at home. However, just as you were about to leave, the tranquility was shattered by the unexpected sound of the doorbell echoing through the empty clinic.

Alfred stood at the entrance and held a swaddled baby. When you first laid eyes on the baby, the world around you fell away. Alfred let himself exhale a whoosh of relief and he stared into your eyes that sparkled with ancient wisdom and held a kind of magic that transcended the mundane. You were one of a kind—your dual lineage woven into your very spirit, allowing you to navigate both the realms of humanity and the mystique of the fairies with grace.

Before Alfred could open his mouth to explain, you spoke. 

“She’s… mine and Bruce’s daughter.” Your voice trembled with disbelief and joy. Yet, beneath that disbelief lay a current of understanding. You were no stranger to the extraordinary; you had always dwelled in its embrace. 

You delicately lifted the infant from Alfred's embrace. The baby, with her tiny nose and delicate fingers, wrapped around your thumb and stirred. As you held the baby, a strange sensation washed over you. A rush of warmth, a sense of familiarity. It was as if a forgotten memory had been awakened.  The baby gazed up at you with eyes that sparkled like stars, and as she held your gaze, she conveyed images of futures untold—a lush hyacinth garden where a radiant you twirled in laughter beside a strong, confident Bruce who gently held his baby girl. His gaze was on you, tenderness and love in his eyes you had never witnessed. He was filled with a love for you that transcended time, a love that had bloomed in the years that had passed. 

“Our beautiful Mercy,” Bruce uttered and leaned in to press a gentle kiss on your lips.

The vision faded leaving you breathless. You looked back at the baby and noticed her delicate features that carried the echoes of Bruce and as if you even needed the reassurance, just helped to solidify the truth.  You wondered if you had become the woman Bruce had always wanted. The mother his future daughter needed? Or were you just a vessel, a safe haven for a child who belonged to another time?

Somewhere, in the shadows of the present, the man who shared her bloodline, the man she had grown to love, wrestled with his own demons, a man forever bound to you by the invisible threads of time. 

"She's got your eyes," Alfred remarked, as the baby wriggled in your arms.

Your heart ached with a love you weren’t sure you deserved and smiled faintly. "I see a little Bruce there, too..." you sighed. 

“I hope he finds the courage to speak his heart. He can be quite adept at handling challenges—both in the city and in his personal life,” Alfred said, probably to cheer you up.

—

You had decided to keep your distance from Bruce, who had vanished into the shadows after the revelation a week ago. Alfred, his loyal servant, offered no explanation, only a knowing glance that confirmed your suspicions. He was avoiding you. You couldn't blame him. Not really. Your marriage was a forced union for leverage and had been built on mutual indifference. Love had never been a part of the equation, even if you had allowed it to bloom in the fertile ground of his warmth and the shared care for his sons. But now, this child, this tiny miracle, had changed everything.

While a tinge of sadness lingered in your heart, you resolved to make the most of the time you had with your baby girl. 

Your modest cottage was livelier than ever. Your heart swelled with a love so intense, it threatened to consume you. Here you were with all your children who were a source of comfort and amusement. Then, there was Alfred, a reassuring presence in the chaos, who busied himself with changing diapers and preparing bottles while you rested. And each brother had taken on a different role in caring for Mercy. Dick had a knack for entertaining her, his playful antics making her giggle in delight. Jason, with his rough edges softened by tenderness, had taken to changing diapers with a grim determination that made everyone laugh. Damian, it seemed, was a little perplexed by the whole situation but had assumed the role of protector with a seriousness only he could muster.

You found yourself standing by the doorframe, unable to resist eavesdropping on the boys' conversation in the nursery. Though you wanted to join in, you decided to stay silent and just listen.

Dick plopped himself onto the floor, tossing a brightly colored rattle in the air with a flourish. “Just think about it,” he began, his voice energetic and animated. “With mom’s powers, Bruce’s detective knacks, and my martial arts skills, she’ll be unstoppable. I’ll take her training seriously, starting with the basics. I’ll teach her the best moves, and–”

“Who the hell made you primary trainer, Dick? I’ve died before and came back to life. A badass. If anyone can hone her skills, it’s me.” Jason chimed in, tongue-in-cheek, leaning against the wall, crossing his arms with a smirk.

Dick raised an eyebrow. “And yet that experience has made you reckless. You’re good, Jason, but lack discipline.”

“Discipline?” Jason scoffed. “I get the job done fast and efficiently-”

Damian scoffed, perched on the edge of your bed as he cradled his baby sister. 

He looked down at Mercy. “Unlike Grayson and Todd,” he declared with an air of authority, “I will continue to keep Gotham safe so you don’t have to burden yourself with protecting it. You’ll have the liberty to do normal things like run a bakery or help me manage Wayne Enterprises.” He paused, his expression softening as he looked at the baby in their midst. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t teach you how to defend yourself, baby sister.”

"And I swear,” Damian continued. “I will not let you walk the same path we did, well unless you want to. No night terrors, no endless chases through the dark. None of that. You’ll have your choice, and I’ll be damned if I let anything happen to you. And know this—you are never alone. No one gets left behind in this family.” As if sensing his gaze, his baby sister shifted slightly, her tiny hand brushing against his shirt. She might not understand his words yet, but in that fleeting moment, Damian felt an unbreakable bond form between them. He would be her protector, her brother, and the one who would teach her how to protect herself.

The unexpected declaration hung in the air, filling the nursery with an aura of warmth that caught everyone off guard. The corner of Dick’s mouth twitched upward, half-proud, half-amused. Jason raised an eyebrow, his typical bravado faltering for a moment. They hadn’t expected the youngest Wayne to express himself with such affection. 

You leaned against the doorframe, your arms wrapped lovingly around yourself, your heart swelling with affection as you listened to your sons. They had taken to their roles as older brothers with unexpected zeal, and you found it beautiful and precious to witness.

“I think Mercy might just end up becoming a mix of all of you three,” you said lovingly.

Mercy let out a series of delighted squeals, her arms flailing as she instinctively reached for you, the sound of her laughter filling the cottage like music. 

—

The Wayne Manor had been eerily silent for the past week, creating a palpable sense of wrongness. Bruce longed for the familiar sounds of his sons' bickering, Alfred's witty remarks, and, most of all, your presence. Your daily presence at the Manor had become a comforting routine. To the outside world, you and Bruce presented a facade of a content, married couple. Little did they know that a single room in the Manor held an enchantment, serving as a secret passage to your hidden cottage where every morning you’d come out of and every night, you’d enter. But for the past week, you didn’t. 

Bruce found himself standing in front of your door. It wasn't a coincidence or a fleeting moment of courage; it was a deliberate choice that he had been wrestling with since the arrival of your daughter from the future. The weight of his unspoken emotions had become too heavy to bear, and he knew he couldn't continue to run away. As he hesitantly raised his hand to knock, he felt the weight of every missed opportunity and every unspoken word. It took every ounce of courage he possessed to face you and finally admit that he had been a fool and a coward for evading his true feelings for so long. 

As if sensing Bruce’s presence, Alfred opened the door. 

“About time,” Alfred said bluntly, crossing his arms with an amused glint in his eye. “You let this go on long enough, Master Wayne.”

Bruce sighed. “I know. I just… needed time to think.”

“Think? Or avoid?” Alfred raised an eyebrow. “It’s been almost 8 days since you’ve seen your wife. 8 days of avoidance that likely brewed more uncertainty, I’m sure.”

“I don’t know what to say, Alfred,” Bruce replied, frustration evident in his tone. “I was just afraid,” he admitted. “What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if I ruin everything?”

Alfred sighed, adjusting his cufflinks and preparing to deliver his trademark wisdom. “Bruce, she’s your wife—not a foe to be defeated. It’s time to drop the pretense of the Bat and be a man. You’ve fought countless battles; this one requires only honesty.”

"I know," Bruce said, determination lacing his voice. "That’s why I’m here, Alfred."

Alfred offered a rare, genuine smile. "That’s the spirit, sir. I’ll be here, waiting to hear all about it—hopefully, with good news." Alfred's piercing gaze surveyed Bruce's disheveled appearance clad in his armor but bereft of his mask. He crossed his arms, a subtle display of his disapproval. “But first, for heaven’s sake, shower! You can’t confront the woman you’re in love with while smelling like sweat and leather.”

Bruce paused, a small, reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You always know how to make me laugh, Alfred. But… you’re right.” Bruce wore the suit like a second skin that he forgot he was still donning it. He let out a soft breath, the weight of his internal conflict lifting slightly.

“Go on, then,” Alfred prompted. “Wash away the grime of your nightly escapades.”

“Alright. Alright, Alfred.  I’m on it,” Bruce replied, finally conceding.

—

As Bruce returned and entered the cozy cottage, the scent of aged books and mahogany enveloped him. He followed Alfred down a hallway, lined with family portraits of your sisters, human parents, Bruce, and your sons. He came to a halt before a nursery, the moonlight spilling through the window and illuminating a cradle. You laid curled beside it. Bruce thought you looked ethereal, your face etched with exhaustion, yet your eyes, when they opened, were filled with a warmth that melted the ice around his heart.

“My precious little one,” your voice was soft and melodious as you spoke, your words imbued with the same warmth and kindness that had captivated Bruce's heart. “your tiny face is the mirror image of your daddy's. And just like him, I know you will grow up to be courageous, compassionate, and filled with the same unwavering determination to do what is right.”Your voice filled with an emotion he could only describe as pure, unadulterated joy. 

Bruce couldn't speak and relished that intimate moment, the way you held your daughter, his future, in your arms.

Bruce took a step forward, the creak of the floorboard drawing your attention. You looked up, startled, but then a soft smile spread across your face. 

"Bruce," you whispered, your voice laced with relief and a touch of awe. “You came.”

A smile slowly spread across his face. “Can I come in?” he asked, his voice rough with emotion. 

“Please,” you retorted.

Bruce walked into the room, his heart heavy but strangely lighter at the same time. He saw the tiny face nestled against you, the tiny fingers wrapped around your finger, and felt a surge of love that he had never experienced before. 

“She’s beautiful,” he said, his voice rough. "So much like you."

You bit your lip, trying to contain the swell of emotions you were feeling. 

Alfred, who had been watching the exchange with a stoic expression, cleared his throat. “May I suggest a more private location?” Alfred’s tone was both firm and kind. 

You turned to look at Bruce.

“We can talk in my study,” you said, brushing the lingering thoughts of the intimacy shared in that moment aside. “If that’s okay with you, Bruce.” 

“Of course,” Bruce responded.

Alfred raised an eyebrow, ever the observer, before nodding with a hint of a smirk that suggested he knew more than he let on. "Very well,” he said as he grabbed the baby from your arms. 

Bruce followed you to your study room. You closed the door behind you, the click echoing in the quiet room, and a sense of intimacy settled between you two. "Please sit," you said, your voice soft but firm.

The room was bathed in the warm glow of a lamp, the rest of the study dark save for the faint moonlight filtering through the window. The scent of mahogany and aged parchment pervaded the air, mingling with the faint aroma of exotic herbs. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves adorned the walls, their spines whispering tales untold. Artifacts and curiosities from all over the world were carefully arranged on delicate display cases, hinting at a hidden passion for exploration. You were a naturopathic doctor, a fact he knew, but he rarely saw this side of you. 

"I apologize for the mess here." Your eyes met his briefly before you turned back to the bottles, your fingers tracing the delicate script on the labels. "This is my workspace, my haven. Sometimes, I just need to be surrounded by knowledge, by the potential for discovery…” you set down the obsidian bottle on the table and turned to meet Bruce’s gaze. “but anyway, we’re here to talk about much important things.” You paused. "I was starting to think you weren't coming,” you admitted.

"I’m sorry," Bruce finally choked out, his voice rough. "I… I didn’t know what to do." He could sense the tension in the room, the weight of unsaid words lingering in the air like a storm about to break.

“Bruce,” You began, your voice soft, “don’t apologize. I know this is a lot to take in. But I need you to understand that this future doesn’t have to happen... and it probably won’t.”

You paused, your gaze fixed upon your husband, who remained seated, his piercing blue eyes inscrutable. "I mean, our marriage is not a decree of destiny," you insisted, your voice trembling with a mix of frustration and longing. "This future is not written in stone."

Bruce watched you with a heavy heart. Your words cut him deeply. Had he pushed you away so vehemently that you didn’t envision a future with him? You continued your unstoppable torrent of words, oblivious to his inner turmoil.

“I'm not blind to your feelings, Bruce. I am an obligation, nothing more,” you uttered.

Bruce's gaze met yours, a brief moment of vulnerability in his impenetrable facade. A wave of guilt crashed over him. He’d been a cold, distant husband, his heart a locked vault, refusing to admit the truth of his feelings to you.

“That is not true, Y/N. Don’t ever say that.” Bruce uttered, his voice gaining strength. 

“Then speak your mind, Bruce," you pleaded. "Because for the past 3 years, your silence has betrayed your statement."

The tension in the room became palpable. Bruce stood up from the worn leather chair, his eyes narrowed with determination as he took a deliberate step towards you. In response, you took a step back involuntarily, feeling the weight of the room's tension pressing in on you.

"Y/N," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, "you make me feel things I've never allowed myself to feel. It's terrifying and exhilarating all at once. I never thought I'd want to be vulnerable with someone, but here I am, wanting to share everything with you."

you shifted slightly, your gaze piercing into his. Your eyes showed an understanding and a quiet recognition of his struggles. 

"and it feels so right," he added, now more earnest. "Being with you feels like home, which frightens me more than anything else. I've built up so many defenses to protect myself, but you—you're breaking through them, and I can't help but want to let you in."

Bruce took another step closer to you. "Yes, I admit, our marriage was merely a formal strategic alliance. Before you, I never saw myself sharing a future with anyone because until three years ago, I didn't know I had one."

For a moment, Bruce feared you might look away and leave him exposed.

Bruce continued with unwavering determination as he made another step forward, his eyes reflecting a mix of wonder and excitement. "But a week ago, I caught a glimpse of my future. And damn it, it's incredible."

"Bruce," you whispered, your voice barely audible, and found yourself locked in a trance by the intensity of his gaze. Without realizing it, he had closed the distance between you, and when you attempted to retreat, you felt your legs pressed against your desk. Feeling the hard surface behind you, you instinctively leaned into it, seeking its support as your pulse quickened with anticipation and uncertainty.

"Y/N, I'm not usually one for superstition, but I strongly feel we were meant to be together. It's as if our paths were always meant to converge, with you destined to be mine and I, yours."

"Bruce..." you repeated, soft and quiet. He was so close to you now that you could feel the heat radiating from his body.

But Bruce said enough. He lowered his head, his lips pressing against your soft lips. He poured every ounce of his unspoken emotions into that kiss - the longing, the regret, the desperate hope that he wasn't too late. You froze for a moment, your mind reeling. This wasn't the Bruce you knew, the man who treated you with polite indifference, who saw you as a pawn in a game of power. This was a man who craved you, who yearned for your touch, who bared his soul in a single, impassioned kiss.

Bruce’s hands traveled from your waist to the small of your back, holding you securely as if you were the only thing that mattered. You kissed him back intensely, welcoming his tongue with yours. You could feel the thrill of adrenaline coursing through you, mixing with the warmth of his body against yours. 

Breaking the kiss, you gazed into his deep eyes, searching for reassurance that this was real. Bruce smiled, his expression playful yet serious, and he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

Bruce knelt before you. “I love you,” Bruce whispered hoarsely, his words a confession long overdue. “You transformed my world, Y/N, and I want to spend my life showing you how much you mean to me. Will you marry me again? Only this time it’ll be honest and intimate. Just us.” 

Bruce pulled from his pocket, a vintage gemstone you knew had belonged to his mother. 

your eyes widen in shock and delight, Your breath catching in your throat. Then, you looked into Bruce’s sincere eyes, feeling the weight of his words.

“Yes!” You exclaimed, tears of happiness sparkling in your eyes. 

Bruce slid the ring onto your finger and planted a gentle kiss on your hand.

This was a new beginning, a chance to build something real, something true, something that was yours and Bruce’s alone.

—

Together, you approached the nursery, where Alfred had the baby in his arms. He smiled at both of you, knowing that you both had surrendered to love. “Baby Mercy eagerly waited for you, Master Bruce.”

He carefully placed the baby in Bruce's arms, mindful of her fragility. As Bruce cradled her, he felt the gentle warmth of her tiny body against his skin. Looking down at her, he noticed her unblinking gaze, so full of wonder and innocence, as if she were already trying to understand the world around her. Despite the weight of his responsibilities, a rare and tender smile adorned Bruce's face, softening the hardened lines that defined it. "Welcome home, Mercy," he murmured, feeling a rush of love and protectiveness wash over him as he held his daughter close.

Your smile grew, your eyes sparkling with joy as you watched Bruce gaze at your daughter with a softness he had never shown before. Mercy giggled, a sound that seemed to echo through the room like a gentle melody. It was as if the universe itself rejoiced at this reunion.

“I think she wants to show you something,” you smiled. 

The first vision-like memory flickered to life, blooming before Bruce. He could see himself as a distant figure, surveying the scene from the doorway, his expression a blend of wonder and amusement. He stood in a warm kitchen filled with the aroma of freshly baked cookies. Mercy, no older than five, wore a tiny apron adorned with colorful motifs. An older version of his son, Damian Wayne, was busy rolling out dough. Flour dusted the air like fairy dust as Damian orchestrated their little culinary adventure with serious intent.

“Watch, Daddy!” Mercy exclaimed, her voice a melodic chime. The two of them were collaborating on baking a batch of cookies. Damian, with all his precision, carefully measured the ingredients while his sister, in a flurry of excitement, added spoonfuls of sprinkles and chocolate chips into the mix.

“Too many!” Damian chided, suppressing a smile despite his best efforts. The kitchen was filled with laughter and the delightful chaos of sibling bonding.

The scene shifted with a swirl of color, pulling Bruce into another cherished moment from the future—a day at Wayne Enterprises. The sleek, modern building glimmered under the sun, its towering structure a symbol of the legacy Bruce had built. Inside, his daughter, now slightly older, wandered through the gleaming halls, hand in hand with her father.

“Daddy, can we go to the rooftop garden?” she asked her voice a melody of excitement. Bruce nodded, his heart swelling with pride as he watched her interact with the bustling world of business around them.

The rooftop was a breathtaking oasis, filled with vibrant flowers and greenery that you had carefully nurtured. 

Bruce and Mercy sat together on a sun-drenched bench, a picnic spread before them. 

“Did you know that if you talk to the flowers, they can grow even more?” Mercy said, leaning closer to the petals, her delicate breath almost a whisper. A soft breeze stirred the leaves.

“Are you going to be a botanist and save the world?” Bruce teased, gently ruffling her hair.

“I’ll be a hero like you, Daddy. Only with cakes and magic,” she replied earnestly, her eyes shimmering with determination. 

“That’s incredible, sweetheart. You have a gift,” Bruce said, his heart swelling with pride.

The visions filled your heart with warmth, giving you the undeniable certainty that this baby was the embodiment of yours and Bruce’s future, born from a love so deep, so profound, that not even time could erase it.

[just-a-ghost00]

Crush series : what is their current love status ?

This is for those of you that are puzzled right now about their crush and don’t know much about them yet. We are asking spirit to help us clarify what their situation is so that you can act accordingly. To pick your group, you can choose one of these emojis.

✍🏼 🧛🏻‍♀️ 🎓

Group 1 ✍🏼

Cards : Emperor, 4 of pentacles, Queen of cups, 5 of swords, Queen of pentacles, 8 of cups, 8 of wands as the overall energy

This person is single. They are focused on their own accomplishments and well being, mainly when it comes to their career. They are very busy and taking part in many projects. Their heart space is closed. They are friendly with a lot of people but they don’t connect with them on a deeper level. They may flirt here and there but that never goes too far because they don’t want to be involved in drama. This person draws a lot of attention and they are wary of connections because of past experiences. Also, dating could impact their societal status and their personal life drastically if it went wrong so they try to avoid dating as much as possible. This person could have been used for their wealth and power in the past or dealt with people that were not genuine. They could struggle with trusting people and/or being vulnerable. However, they are starting to feel lonely and a part of them wants to find somewhere they belong and a person that can match their vibe and support them during hard times. A part of them may doubt that they are ever going to find such a person. They tend to feel pessimistic when it comes to love and romance. I asked for a card to clarify the 5 of swords and got the knight of cups. This person feels confused when people express feelings towards them. They may have recently come across someone that showed them affection and they felt conflicted about it. If that person is you, the expression of your emotions sets them off balance. This is something they did not expect and that they are not used to.

Confirmation signs : Aries, Taurus, Scorpio, Sagittarius, numbers 4, 5 and 8

Group 2 🧛🏻‍♀️

Cards : The Empress, The World, The Fool, 3 of pentacles reversed, Hierophant, Justice, overall energy is the White Numen

Your crush is looking for committed and deep love. They are in a phase of their life where they are finally where they wanted to be, they are embodying the version of themselves they always dreamed of. They are finally loving themselves and feeling empowered. They’ve come to terms with their self confidence issues and they are now taking control over their life. Their energy feels very feminine and very confident. Very sensual also. This person wants to create, to gather with other people, not just a romantic partner but all kinds of people to express their true potential. But they are also looking for their ride or die. Their partner in crime. The person that will love and support them no matter what, that will match their crazy and follow them anywhere they may go. This person is starting anew and moving forward with a positive mind and receptive energy. They may enjoy traveling alone or indulging in creative endeavors. They also spend a lot of time taking care of their body, dressing themselves up, working on their body image. Though the Hierophant represents commitment I think that this person is mainly committed to themselves and their own well being. They’ve been through a lot and the wheel has just recently turned in their favor. Justice is being served by blessing this person with everything they ever wanted. I feel like this person is entrusting the divine with their love life and hoping for the best. They are just existing and shining at the maximum of their capacity, hoping that their light will reach someone worth their time and love.

Confirmation signs : Taurus, Leo, Aquarius, Scorpio, Pisces, numbers 3, 5 and 21

Group 3 🎓

Cards : Black Numen, Tower reversed, Moon, Ace of pentacles rx, knight of pentacles reversed, 4 of wands, overall energy 2 of pentacles

This person is either single or in a situation ship. They have gone through a major transformation in their life and/or a rough period of time where they were isolated, possibly struggling with depression or anxiety. They felt like things were not going in their favor and faced a lot of fears. This person is now dreaming of a time of peace where their life isn’t as chaotic and messy. Especially when it comes to romance. They are hoping for a serious relationship that doesn’t seem to want to manifest in their life. They feel like things are moving too slow in that area of their life. One one hand they want that connection so bad but on the other hand they are scared to let anyone in right now considering how their life is all over the place. This person feels conflicted. They may try to interact with people and then retreat back to their bubble because they don’t trust themselves and/or others. A part of them doubts that they’ll ever find someone to be with. They may think they’re not worthy of love or that they don’t have enough time and room for someone to be in their life. However they feel lonely and out of luck and a part of them may believe that having someone in their life would help them get back on track and be more successful. This person may daydream a lot about being in a relationship. They may have a lot of crushes but never act upon them. They may be very shy, introverted, scared of being left out or rejected. They possibly tried to be in a relationship in the past which ended terribly. Their plans to be with this person were not fruitful. Maybe because their family did not accept their partner or because of their work taking too much of their time.

Confirmation signs : Scorpio, Pisces, Taurus, Virgo, numbers 18, 16, 1, 2 and 4.

[ladykailitha]

The Au Pair Boy Part 9

Hey guys! Only one chapter of this one this week, I promise. But it's the chapter. The best chapter.

Eddie comes home! And Steve gets help in the kitchen.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8

~

Eddie insisted on having a cook come in and make dinner three times a week. That included Steve’s day off, so he would be cooking for most of their meals but that he would have help on those three days.

Steve disregarded professional chefs right off the bat. Eddie didn’t need to pay some big named star to make mediocre food for the girls. And would have stuck to that if the best candidate wasn’t a French Culinary school graduate with having owned two Michelin star restaurants.

His name was Benny Hammond and he was retired. He just wanted something fun to do in his spare time. Steve talked about what the girls liked, what recipes he had and when Eddie would be home.

“I haven’t cooked for kids in ages,” he said with a grin. “That sounds like a fun challenge. Count me in!”

Just after one week with Benny making all the meals, Eddie cackled an ‘I told you so!’ on his evening call with the girls.

“I didn’t realize how much energy all the cooking was taking until I had a day without doing it,” Steve whined.

“He made us grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup,” Joan said brightly. “It was nummy, Daddy.”

“And the soup didn’t even come in a can!” Janice crowed. “Not even the tomatoes.”

“It was better than how I make it,” Steve grumbled into Joan’s hair.

But Eddie caught it anyway. “Sounds like someone was right. So what do we say, Stevie?”

Steve wanted to pout but that would set a really bad example for the girls so he straightened up and sighed. “Thank you Eddie. Benny was the final piece of the puzzle we all needed to for a well run household.”

“Good!” Eddie said brightly. “I have some news. It’s bad news for the band, but good news for everyone else.”

Both girls perked up and started talking over each other as they tried to guess what it was.

“Joanie! Janie!” Eddie barked from the tablet Steve was holding. “If you’ll let me talk, I’ll be able to tell you.” Once both girls had settled, Eddie cleared his throat. “Thanks to a major hurricane, the last two shows have been combined into one big fundraiser for the towns devastated by the storm.”

“I heard about that on the news,” Steve said with a nod. “I’m sorry the tour has to wrap up early, though. I know you were really looking forward to playing in Ashville.”

“It is what it is,” Eddie said resigned. “But all proceeds will go to disaster relief so some good will come out of it.”

“Well, that’s good,” Steve murmured. “I’ve got to get these little munchkin to their bath, but I guess we’ll see you on Saturday.”

“So you will,” Eddie replied warmly. “Good night, girlies!”

“Night, Daddy!” Janice and Joan chorused. Then they clambered off Steve’s lap and tore off for their bedroom.

Steve turned off the app and laid the tablet down with a sigh. It was a good thing that Eddie was coming home. He just felt conflicted about how soon it was now. He thought he would have more to get his emotions under control.

~

Janice and Joan wanted to dress up really nice for their dad so Steve helped them pick out their outfits.

Janice had completely surprised Steve when she pulled out a pretty plaid skirt and a white blouse. She was such a tomboy most of the time, that he wasn’t even aware she had skirts and dresses in her closet.

Joan wore a matching plaid jumper dress with a similar style in blouse. They even had matching black Mary Jane shoes.

Steve had never seen them look more like twins in the whole time he had known them. They even asked him for matching French braid pigtails.

Janice and Joan sat in front of the window, anxiously waiting for the Uber that would be dropping their dad off so they could see him in person for the first time in months. Steve had originally tried to distract them from the ever present ticking clock, but gave up about an hour in.

They were just too keyed up.

Then an unknown silver SUV pulled up to the house and out Eddie popped. The girls started screaming and jumping up and down.

“Girls go get your signs!” Steve said brightly and they ran off to grab the signs they had made yesterday.

The door opened to a very bedraggled Eddie and the second he saw his girls with matching outfits and cute little signs saying Welcome Home, he dropped to his knees. He threw open his arms and both girls dogpiled him.

There were tears flowing down all three of their faces. Eddie picked them both up and walked toward the sofa, then he carefully lowered himself onto its surface.

Steve just smiled and walked away.

He made his way to the kitchen where Benny was slaving away at marvelous homecoming meal. Steve leaned up against the doorway and watched as the large chef chopped away at some vegetables. His skill was always fun to watch.

“I thought I told you that you weren’t allowed in the kitchen when I work,” Benny said without turning around.

Steve huffed out a breathy laugh. “I’m following your rule, you grumpy old man. I’m not in the kitchen.”

Benny turned around and sniffed. “Close enough.” He looked up at the clock. “Shouldn’t the master of the house be home by now.” He waved to a bar stool for Steve to take a seat.

“He’s here,” Steve said, sitting down. “But I don’t know him well enough to know if he’s the kind of man that likes crying in front of other adults. Especially ones he doesn’t know well.”

Benny stopped for a moment and then nodded, going back to his chopping. “That’s fair. You’re like me, when things get too emotional, we come to kitchen to work out those emotions.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, nodding back. “I love having you here. It makes taking care of the girls so much easier...”

“But sometimes you wish that you can just come into the kitchen and make something?” Benny finished. “Next time you feel that way, let me know and I’ll teach you a technique or a new recipe, all right?”

“Thanks, Benny.”

After a few minutes of contented silence Benny spoke, “You should probably go check on them and makes sure they’re alive enough to eat my dinner.”

Steve laughed, slapping a hand the counter and getting up. “You got it.”

He wandered back to the front room but no one was there. Steve frowned and went to Eddie’s office, but they weren’t there either. He put his hands on his hips and pursed his lips. Where could they have gone?

He tapped his lips thoughtfully and the darted up the stairs, taking them at two at a time. He reached the top in no time at all and sure enough he could hear giggling. With a sigh of relief he walked to the girls’ room and pushed open the partially closed door.

Joan had decorated Eddie’s hair with ribbons while Janice read “Opposites” to him in a very serious tone.

Steve couldn’t hold back the bark of laughter when he saw the absolutely besotted expression on Eddie’s face.

Eddie looked up in shock and then when he saw who it was, he grinned. “Do I look pretty?”

“The prettiest,” Steve confirmed, moving further into the room. “Benny sent me in search of everyone because dinner is almost ready.”

Eddie’s face really lit up. “Ooh. He asked me what my favorite dish was and is making it for me. I’m really excited to see what a Michelin chef can do with poor people food.”

The girls both made faces and Steve gave them a look. “Remember when you went to Maria’s birthday party and the cake was carrot and you didn’t like it?”

Both girls nodded and Eddie looked suddenly interested in the new lesson they learned. “What’s this?” he asked gleefully.

“When it’s someone else’s day,” Joan said, “they can have whatever they want for their party.” She scuffed her shoe on the carpet. “So since it’s Daddy’s homecoming day, he can have whatever he wants.”

Eddie cackled in satisfaction. “Yes, girls that is a very important lesson to learn. It’s hardly my fault you inherited your Papa’s palate. I like it and so we are going to have it for dinner.”

“I’ve seen it,” Steve said, barely concealing a smile. “It looks fantastic. I can’t wait to try it.” He bent down to the girls’ level. “Remember the three bite rule. You take three regular sized bites and if you don’t like it, you can have something else.”

Joan nodded solemnly but Janice’s face as twisted up in distaste. Steve just shook his head. “Go wash your hands, girls and then join us at the dinner table.”

Both girls were off with a flash and Steve held out his hand to help Eddie to his feet. Once on his feet Eddie flashed him a broad smile that really showed off those dimples. He looked...cute.

Just then the door to the girls’ bathroom burst open and Steve dropped Eddie’s hand. Not quick or harsh. Just a simple act of letting go.

“I’ll race you to the table!” Eddie crowed, ducking around Steve.

Both girls squealed in delight and they were off like a shot, tearing down the stairs like a herd of elephants being told that it was peanut time.

Steve followed more slowly behind just soaking up how happy the girls were that their dad was home at last. The trip had clearly done Eddie good. He had color in his cheeks and his shoulders were no longer up around his ears, like dog expecting to be hit. Time away from the girls really helped him out.

“Come sit by me!” Joan cried when he entered the dinning room. She patted the spot between her and across from Eddie.

Eddie lit up at that and grinned at Steve. “Looks like you’re stuck with us now, Stevie boy! Once Joanie’s got her hooks in ya, you can’t leave.”

Steve smiled and shook his head fondly. “That would imply that I would want to leave in the first place.” He bopped Joan’s nose and she giggled. “And that would never happen ever!”

Just then Benny came in hold a large casserole dish. It had tatter tots covered with cheese and it just smelled heavenly. Benny set it on the table and began serving them. Inside was fresh peas and carrots and shredded beef in a mushroom sauce, gently seasoned with herbs and spices. Steve couldn’t wait to dig in.

Eddie was served first and he bit into that first bite. The moan of pleasure that escaped his lips, caused Steve’s eyes to roll back and flutter shut as he tried to think of very gross things to keep his embarrassing erection to a minimum.

“Benny!” Eddie cried. “This is amazing! You really out did yourself.” He grabbed the spoon from the dish and brandished it at Steve and the twins. “Mine! All for me!”

Steve laughed and then took a bite of his own and his eyes snapped up. “Sorry girls, but it appears I’m going to have duel your dad for the rest of this casserole.”

“Betrayed!” Eddie said, clutching the spoon to him. Suddenly he got a wicked gleam in his eye and he licked the spoon.

“Ewww...” Janice crowed.

“Gross!” Joan agreed.

Steve just shook his head and turned back to his meal. He wasn’t going to do something in front of the girls, because it would be the wrong lesson to teach, but he was highly tempted to grab the spoon and lick another stripe right next to Eddie’s. But for now he would bide his time.

The two girls managed to eat about half before declaring they wanted something else. So Benny took them into the kitchen to fix them something they would eat.

Steve leaned over and whispered, “Jokes on you, I’m a nanny, a little spit won’t deter me from what I want.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide and he shoved his hair in front of his face to hide his blush as Steve helped himself to another spoonful of the casserole.

Steve ate in smug silence as Eddie took a moment to come back online. He cleared his throat a couple of times but didn’t dare speak.

Once Steve had eaten his fill, he picked up the girls’ dishes and piled them on his plate. He stood up but before turning away to take the dishes into the kitchen, he said softly. “I’m glad you’re home too.”

Eddie looked up at him in awe and nodded. “It’s good to be home, Stevie. It’s so good to be home.”

Steve smiled and walked away.

~

Part 10 Part 11

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @tartarusknight @gregre369

2- ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi

3- @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch

4- @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @ollieolive @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1

5- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

6- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

7- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

8- @sadisticaltarts @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @dolphincliffs @steddie-as-they-go @steddieislife

9- @kultiras @morallyundefined @themoonagainstmers @fearieshadow @blondie1006

10- @thesecondfate @wheneverfeasible @depressed-freak13 @genderless-spoon @yesdangerpls

[nejiverse]

UNTIL I FALL ASLEEP

Sae Itoshi [pt2 to 'his amnesiac']

In which Y/n unravels the mysteries shrouding her lost memories. Fem! Reader

part 1

cw: c/n is cat's name, reader owns glasses, angst

1980 words

"I'm your wife but to me, you're a stranger".

Wife.

Sae's words were caught up in his throat. Even before the accident, him and Y/n weren't married yet, only engaged.

In spite of this, Sae always used to call Y/n his wife and it would never cease to make her flustered.

The fact that she referred to herself as his wife made him extremely happy.

Pitter-patter noises interrupted the loud silence between them as Y/n turned her head to the side. Sae had no reaction seeing as he already knew who the culprit was.

A snowy white cat made its appearance from behind the couch and immediately made itself cozy in Y/n's lap.

She was startled at first but found herself smiling as she reluctantly brought her hand down to pet it.

Sae could see the brightness in her eyes from the mere presence of the cat. Y/n was always fond of them and it took weeks of convincing for Sae to finally give in and let them get a cat.

"What's its name?", she asked, her hands fiddling with the dainty bell of the collar around the cat's neck.

"Just cat", he responded.

"Are you serious?", Y/n chuckled lightly.

"Well you called her (c/n) but I always thought cat was just fine", he shrugged his shoulders.

Sae's eyes fell on the large clock hanging opposite them, turning away to prepare dinner. "You hungry?", he asked.

"She's got eyes just like yours".

Sae's feet stopped.

————

Y/n gasped.

"This one! This is the one I want".

She oohed and awed at the cat who pawed at her feet, taking the feline in her arms and shoving it Sae's face.

"She's adorable isn't she!".

"You said you wanted to come in here for a 'look' not to take one home", Sae raised a brow. He wasn't fond of the thought of cat fur everywhere.

"Aw but Saeee", she drawled out, inching closer to her fiancé. "Can we please take her home?".

Sae internally scolded himself for being so weak to Y/n's pleading eyes. He grumbled under his breath and sighed in defeat.

"I suppose..", if it made her happy then he'd buy the whole store.

"You're the best!", she spoke as she held his cheeks in her hands and placed a kiss on his lips once, twice, before pulling away and taking the cat up in her arms again.

"Slate outer rings with teal all the way to the black".

"What?".

With that smile he grew to love so much, she asked. "Wanna know why I chose her?".

"Why?".

"Cause she's got eyes just like yours".

————

His eyes stung. So bad. He needed to leave before he let his emotions get the best of him, and he did just that.

Entering the kitchen, Sae closed the door behind him and leaned against it, his arm coming up over his eyes and his teeth clenching together.

He missed her so dearly. The old Y/n. The one he fell in love with.

They say you don't know what you have until it's gone. It was a phrase Sae heard a couple of times in his lifetime.

And now that he was living this phrase, he understood it all too well.

She was like a blessing sent from above, and what did he ever do deserve such a gift? Nothing. Sae doesn't think he's ever done anything in his life to be deserving of such a blessing. Maybe that's why it was all taken from him.

What an unfortunate life.

Dinner was quiet— nothing new.

Y/n was conflicted. And the quietness only gave room for negative thoughts to pile up in her head. She felt like the body she was in wasn't hers. She felt like an intruder.

She looked at her reflection in the spoon she held in her hand.

She was so different.

"Sae", she spoke.

She said his name.

If Sae was a puppy, his ears would've perked up by now.

"Tell me more about your fiancée", she said.

Y/n knew what kind of person she was, and how she lived her life before the accident. But she didn't need that version of herself because no one who knew that her was around anymore. She needed to know who she was in Sae's life because he's the only person she has left.

"My fiancée..", he repeated, his spoon tapping against his plate and his eyes falling onto the carrots at the side of his plate that he had no intentions of eating.

He didn't even know where to begin with describing her... he was starting to believe there were no words to describe her. She was just so perfect.

He opted to describe what she liked and her occupation.

"My fiancée, she was a neurosurgeon. Well not an official one, she was still doing her apprenticeship. She also loved romance movies. That was how our Friday night always went. She was the best cook to ever exist, ever since we started dating I could barely survive a day without a home cooked meal. She was so kind that we never had an argument. She always opted to sit down and talk about it. That is until the day of the accident..but that was different. It wasn't her at all, it was me. I provoked her to anger", he tightened his hold on his spoon.

"And she was way too beautiful for her own good. She always beat herself up about her looks and I would always do anything and everything to reassure her that she was wrong. Actions speak louder that words right?".

Y/n's eyes widened and she covered her red cheeks, flustered as to what Sae was implying. Suddenly the old grocery list stuck onto the fridge with a magnet that said 'Mallorca' couldn't have looked more interesting.

"She was also..", Sae pushed the glasses case that laid on the far side of the table towards her. "As blind as a bat", only when it came to reading though but regardless, Sae always teased her for squinting her eyes when she was too lazy to put on her glasses.

"You're really lovesick, Sae", she laughed. "I'm sure your fiancée would've made fun of you for it". His words really helped her mind settle down.

Of course he was lovesick. In fact, he used to think love was stupid and was only for fools who had no aspirations for themselves. He never thought he'd fall in love, let alone with someone as gentle and as kind as Y/n.

What Sae wouldn't give to be able to turn back time.

Bed time was less awkward.

Y/n glanced around the room which her and Sae used to share, it felt so familiar, yet she couldn't recall a single instance where she slept or rather did anything at all in that room.

Y/n opened the wardrobe and ran her hand across the variety of clothes hung up neatly, looking for pyjamas to change into.

She had no luck so she searched the chest of drawers across from the large king sized bed and luckily found a nightdress in which she could change into.

Y/n was once again help captive by her train of thoughts as she undressed. The familiar smells lingering around the room made her head ache from trying to pull the forgotten memories deep in her mind forward.

She pulled her top up over her head as it fell onto her lap, her eyes coming in contact with the framed photo of her and Sae in a country she knew was nowhere near Japan displayed on the dresser. She had no recollection of posing for that picture and it was breaking her heart because she looked so happy in it.

Was it really possible for her to regain her old life?

In that same instance, Y/n heard the bathroom door swing open, making her turn her head sharply.

"I'm changing!", she blurted without a second thought.

Sae shut the door again until it was slightly ajar.

"Oh sorry. This is new for me too", he spoke in a neutral tone.

Y/n bit the inside of her cheek, feeling a bit bad for her reaction. Did she even have the right to react that way? They were engaged before the accident and Sae was merely doing what came natural to him.

This naturalness was something he deeply missed. Especially when he used to sneak up behind her right after taking a shower and embrace her, purposefully getting her clothes damp.

He would've been able to do just that if only he had apologised that day.

How he longed to be able to touch her again.

"It's okay", Y/n retorted, slipping into the nightdress. "Can you show me to my room please? I'd like to go to bed now", she spoke in a voice just loud enough for Sae to hear. She was sure a good night's sleep would help her get rid of unpleasant thoughts.

Upon arriving at the spare room, it was the first time Y/n had gotten time to herself after the accident.

She sat on the bed and let out a sigh that seemed to have been stuck deep down in her chest for a while now.

She wished this was all a joke. She wished someone would flick on the lights and jump in front of her rambling on about how easily she fell for it.

That would never happen though.

The moonlight would be the only source of light the bedroom would receive unless she got up and flicked the lights on herself, and most certainly, no one would jump in front of her because it was only her in the room.

Her attention was drawn to the lengthy mirror standing in the corner of the room. Y/n narrowed her eyes at her reflection.

"I've changed so much...I find it hard to believe this is me", she uttered to herself, her hands making their way up to her face.

Y/n got up and stood before the mirror, her reflection a stranger staring back at her. The person she saw was familiar yet foreign, a jumble of features she couldn't quite place. Her hand trembled as she reached out, fingertips grazing the cool surface of the glass.

With a shaky breath, she whispered, "Why did this have to happen to me of all people?".

The words hung heavy in the air, unanswered.

It wasn't fair.

As she gazed into unfamiliar eyes, she felt her vision begin to blur and her legs tremble just like her lips.

Y/n collapsed onto the floor and hid her face in the palms of her hands, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Each sob ripped through her chest, a symphony of anguish echoing in the silence of the room.

Sae paused in the doorway, the faint sound of stifled sobs pulling at his heartstrings. His mind told him to just let her be for now but his heart disagreed. Soon enough he found himself outside her room.

He knocked on the door before opening it and for a moment, he stood frozen, a myriad of emotions swirling within him. His heart ached at the sight of her pain, aching to ease the burden she carried.

But there was little he could do, and he felt so useless for that.

Y/n wiped her eyes upon sensing the presence of a second person and turned her head towards the man behind her.

"This might be a bit selfish of me Sae but, can you stay with me? Until I fall asleep".

masterlist :)