#i never had a problem until like this month

[rhaeheartzsquirrelz]

General Sevika Headcannons

Sevika x Female Reader (Fluff)

Content (w): You’re horny in like.. once? Angst at the end, but its short.

Proofread || Note: I didn’t mean to disappear, writers block got to me :( Kinda short and this is, a tiny bit, rushed.

MEN DO NOT INTERACT!!!!

Random

Big on whistling. Does it when she needs your attention, when she’s checking you out, even when she’s teasing. She likes seeing the look on your face. Especially eye rolls, do one with a face and she’s giddy.

Insanely good at Sudoku. She picked it up a while back when Silco taught her the magic behind the numbers. Now, she’ll challenge the old man and watch as he pinches the bridge of his nose while she’s smiling smugly.

Loves when call her, or anything that belongs to her, cool. She likes being cool. That’s probably why she lets her cape fly off during fights.

Hates her glasses, mainly because they lack functionality, but enjoys seeing you thirst over them. She’d going blind and you’re over here drooing over her, she loves that. And, just for fun, she’ll wear a turtleneck; which, gets you hornier than ever.

Expression

Is she good at being romantic? No. She’s never had someone to be.. soft with. In a way, you’re the first person she’s ever opened up to. Be it letting you know her interests, her dislikes, her favourites, or just small, “not so very tough” things about her. However, she’s only just getting used to those things.

Flowers is all Sevika really knows. On her way back from her backbreaking job, she’ll grab you a few flowers from the market or straight up pluck one she randomly saw and surprise you.

Not so good with words. That woman doesn’t have a clue on how to comfort you. Why? Because she’s never been in a situation where she’s had someone talk her through her problems. Where she’s been able to let slip an ounce of vulnerability. Tragic, but she’s learning.

Things she does that she doesn’t realize

Stares so much that, before the two of met, it scared you. You thought you were her next target and lived in fear for the next week or so until the woman, finally, decided to talk to you. And, after a few months of dating you finally brought it up. She denied it at first but, when she caught herself staring at you a million more times she came clean.

“I was only appreciating you.” She brings it up so abruptly that you’re confused, “what are you talking about?”

With a sip of her whiskey, she rolls her eyes and sighs.

“Nothing..”

Her grip’s a little too hard. Her flesh fingers always end up digging into your waist whenever she’s trying to keep you close. Your girlfriend never noticed it until you had to talk to her about the slight redness she had left on your skin. And, for the next week, Sevika brought home boquets of flowers— not the cheap kind— every day until you told her you forgave her. (You didn’t know she wanted you to say so.)

So sassy that you sometimes have to take deep breaths in order to not tell her off. It’s not on purpose, she’s just so used to having that tone. One time you thought she was pissed at you when, in reality, she was just trying to find the next row for her Sudoku round.

Snores loudly. Jannah have mercy on your soul because that woman will not stop snoring for the love of her life. You’ve tried giving her different pillows, different positions, anything and everything, but nothing seems to work. Somehow, over time, you found a way to fall asleep with her deep snores beside you, even though, sometimes, you want to smack her in the face with a pillow.

Dislikes/Hates

Being ignored. Sevika will, quite literally, go insane if you ever give her the silent treatment. She’s not used to being treated like she’s not there— hell, she’s one of the most respected woman in Zaun, why would she be alright with not being acknowledged? Just to get back at you, she’ll annoy you until you break. Chewing loudly in your ear or shaking you up by heavily sitting on the couch beside you, she’s determined, and she knows you know that.

Her own overthinking. She’s been through a lot, and she doesn’t know why you still stick around with all her problems. Even the risk of you being in danger, because of her, makes her stay awake at night, she doesn’t want to lose you and she hates how her mind needs constant reassurance that you want the same thing. Even though she rarely says the amount of doubts she has, she’ll hit you with this look that only you can read. It’s a silent need that you, happily, provide. Murmuring soft words she’ll end up being embarrassed about later.

The saddest one of them all: her face. :(((( Seeing herself in the mirror makes her feel a sense of shame that she’s never fully able to verbally express. It’s the scars that make her feel self conscious, the wrinkles on her face that makes her groan, the masculinity of her jaw that makes her question herself. But, luckily for her, she’s got this amazing girlfriend, you, who will reassure all her problems away. You swoop in when you hear how quiet the apartment has gotten, follow behind her and give her a few looks of awe and comment on whatever she needs you to. Tell her she’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen and she’ll melt. Smiling like some teenager while looking away in embarrassment; in that moment, she’s thinking about how lucky she is to have you with blush on her cheeks.

[millieisawriter]

Oh, baby

arthur morgan x reader

summary: arthur being a sweet baby daddy, even if you aren't as optimistic

wc: 2k

tw: accidental/unwanted pregnancy

all pics taken from pinterest

based on this request

a/n: yeeeehaw finally back from my break

Getting pregnant wasn’t ever something you planned nor wanted to happen. Hooking up with Arthur, you were aware of the possible consequences. Both of you were, but the consequences aren’t something you thought about during the heat of the moment. And now you were living with them. Suffering through them.

Meanwhile Arthur didn’t seem so upset.You supposed you were somewhat lucky he was the one that got you pregnant, he wasn’t running off or pretending it wasn’t happening. But his optimism was starting to piss you off. From the day you had told him, he’s been attentive, caring, and a little happier. He wasn’t that grumpy guy the gang had known anymore. Now, he had a reason to be happy, perhaps even to live.

“Brought you somethin’.”

Arthur’s voice cut through the spiraling thoughts in your head as you sat alone by the fire. No bottle nor a cigarette in your hand, as it would’ve usually been. Now you had to be careful.

You looked at Arthur as he sat down beside you on the log. “What’s that?” You muttered as he handed you a small brown paper package.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Open it and see.”

You frowned, but curiosity got the best of you and your fingers ripped the paper. Inside, there was a blanket. A new one, not stolen. It was neatly folded, soft, and warm. For the baby.

Your stomach twisted. The moment your fingers brushed over the fabric, it all felt even more real. As if it hadn’t already been real enough. And this wasn’t even the first thing Arthur had bought. If things were different, maybe you’d be happy. If you were different. But you weren’t. You didn’t want any of this.

“You keep buying all these things,” you said.

Arthur replied as if that was the most obvious thing. “Somebody has to think ahead.”

“And that somebody is you?”

“Well, I’m the father.”

You scoffed and shoved the blanket back at him. “Yeah, well, I don’t want it.”

“Ain’t for you,” he shot back, his tone softening when he realized he shouldn’t have snapped back so harshly, “it’s for the baby.”

You stood up. It’s been baby this and baby that for the past few months. No wonder it was starting to get on your nerves. “I can’t wait until this,” you gestured at your stomach, “is finally over so I can go get shitfaced.”

Arthur didn’t smirk, knowing it wasn’t a joke. He didn’t even reply, not having the words. He tried, he really tried to help you warm up to the idea. There wasn’t much he could do. He had searched for solutions to make your problem disappear. Doctors had the skills and tools to help you out, but the problem was it wasn’t legal. Doctors were scared of helping ordinary people in that matter, let alone outlaws wanted in many states with bounties bigger than the money you’ve ever made.

“I just… I hate this, Arthur,” you admitted finally, “I hate feeling slow. Weak. I hate the way y’all look at me like I ain’t me no more.”

Arthur stood up as well. Looking down at your face, he saw how glassy your eyes were. You didn’t want to cry, you were fighting it. “Ain’t nobody thinks you’re weak,” Arthur tried to assure you.

You scoffed. “Oh, please, don’t tell me you don’t see it. The way the gang treats me like I’m fragile. Like I ain’t spent the last few years robbing and shooting and killing right beside y’all.”

“Difference is, now you don’t live just for yourself.”

Arthur paused, and so did you. An uncomfortable silence settled between the two of you. The kind of silence that made the night around you feel overwhelming. You wished you could run, run away from all your problems.

Arthur continued, “I know this ain’t what you wanted. I know you’re scared—”

“I ain’t scared.”

But you knew he was right. You were scared, you had no idea how to be a mother. This had never been in the cards for you. You were an outlaw first, a woman second. And now, you were going to be a mother first.

Arthur let out a breath slowly. “Ain’t a crime to be scared,” he said, “hell, I’m scared too. But we can deal with this, you have me. Me and everyone else in this gang.”

“I don’t know how to do this, Arthur,” you muttered, your voice low.“I don’t wanna do this. I ain’t no mother material, and you ain’t exactly cut out to be a father either.”

Well, that hurt, but you had no idea about his past, about Isaac. The day Isaac and Eliza died, Arthur promised to himself that if he gets another chance, he’ll do better. And maybe you were his another chance.

“I tried,” Arthur sat back down on the log, his elbows on his knees as he stared into the dying fire, “tried to find someone, a doc, a midwife, someone who could help you. Ain’t no one who’d do it, not for us. Not for you. They’re scared to do it for normal folk, we can’t even dream of it.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but then closed it without a word. You swallowed, despite your mouth being suddenly dry. There really was no way out.

You sat down next to Arthur, closer than ever, so close your legs touched. The thing that really got to you was that he had tried. That he had gone looking, knowing well that helping you meant getting rid of something he clearly wanted to keep. Something that was important to him.

“Why?” You asked suddenly.

Arthur turned to look at you. “Why what?”

“Why did you try to help me?”

“Cause I care about you.”

Your throat tightened, and you hated it. You weren’t supposed to cry. Not over this. Not over him.

He continued. “I ain’t gonna pretend I don’t want this kid. I do. But I ain’t the one who’s gotta carry the burden, and I sure as hell ain’t the one who’s gotta go through all this. You are.”

You sniffed and looked away. “Well, ain’t no fixing it now, I guess.”

“No,” the man nodded slowly.

There was silence again, but now just a bit more comfortable. You could hear the soft hum of the night, a distant owl, the fire crackling in front of you, the wind dancing with the leaves. Maybe this wasn’t going to be that bad.

“Now,” Arthur gave your knee a light squeeze as he pushed himself to his feet, “you eaten yet?”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course I have. That thing makes me eat everything in sight.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow at you, his gaze telling you he didn’t exactly believe your words.

You huffed. “Okay. I haven’t.”

“That’s what I thought. Sit here for a moment.”

He turned around to bring you something to eat. Something he got in town, something that wasn’t Pearson’s stew.

And you weren’t going anywhere. You hadn’t moved from your place at the fire for the past few hours. That was how most of your days looked lately. From time to time, someone else would join you, but the more pregnant you were, the more snappy you were. At some point it became easier to leave you alone.

“Eat,” Arthur ordered as he gave you some bread, cheese, and an apple. Then, he reached into his satchel to take out a chocolate bar.

It was a lovely gesture. The food wasn’t some fancy dinner, but not like you expected anything fancy. Fancy isn’t a thing when it comes to any aspect of the outlaw life. The food was simple, but better than whatever was floating in Pearson’s stew.

“Thank you.”

You bit into the bread first, interchangeably taking bites of the cheese. Then, not having fully swallowed the cheese yet, you opened the chocolate and took a few bites. And later on you finished it off with the apple.

You didn’t deserve that kind of understanding. Arthur had wanted this baby. He was probably excited, dreaming about a future you couldn’t bring yourself to imagine. Even if he himself would deny it, you knew he deserved better.

Out of a sudden, you asked, “Why ain’t you mad at me?”

Arthur frowned. “Why would I be mad?”

“Because I don’t want this, and you do. I’ve been a pain in the ass to everyone, you included.”

“You have every right to be like this. Your body isn’t yours anymore. I’d be mad as hell if I were in your shoes.”

Arthur was so understanding it made you nauseous. You wanted to hit him and cuddle into him at the same time.

Then, you felt something. As you threw the apple core into the fire, you felt a weird sensation in your belly. Some shifting, pressing from the inside. Then, a sharp kick.

“What the hell?” You hissed, looking down at the curve of your belly.

Arthur straightened immediately. “What’s wrong?”

“It just kicked me,” your hands went to your stomach, fingers pressing against the spot, feeling the kick again. “You want me to throw you a real punch, little bastard?”

You heard Arthur laugh. His laughter was genuine, probably for the first time ever.

“You wouldn’t be laughing if a baby was trying to kick its way out of your guts, Arthur.” You groaned, rubbing a hand over your belly. Another kick made you jolt slightly. It wasn’t something you were used to, the baby didn’t kick before. “Keep that up and I’ll— ouch!”

Arthur’s laughter died down, and now he was just smiling as he leaned in. He hesitated before saying, “Lemme feel.”

You looked at him with disbelief. “What?”

“The baby. Lemme feel the kicks.”

You sighed, eyeing him for a moment before grabbing his wrist and placing his hand on your belly. His touch was warm, but soft. When you let go of his wrist, his hand practically hovered millimeters above your skin as if he were scared of pressing too hard.

For a second, there was nothing. You were about to tell him to forget it when another kick landed right against his hand. Arthur stilled completely. You could see his face firstly flash with a surprise, which soon switched into a smile. He looked damn near mesmerized.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered, eyes focused on where his hand rested.

You could see it in his face, how much this meant to him. It was strange, seeing Arthur Morgan like that. He looked younger somehow, hopeful in a way you hadn’t seen the whole time you knew him.

You scoffed, trying to ignore the lump forming in your throat. “Told you. Little shit’s got an attitude already.”

Arthur grinned. “Must take after you.”

You looked at the man as he kept his attention on your stomach. Nobody was arguing, nobody was scheming, nobody was running from the law. Just the two of you sitting there, Arthur’s palm resting against your stomach, feeling the proof of the thing that had turned your whole damn world upside down.

After a while, he finally broke the silence. “You ever think maybe this don’t gotta be as bad as you think?”

You didn’t answer right away, because, yeah, you had thought about it. Not in a hopeful way, not in the way Arthur had, but in a tired, resigned sort of way. You weren’t getting rid of it. You weren’t running from it. Whether you liked it or not, this was happening.

Then, suddenly, all you said was, “We can’t let the baby become like us.” And your voice finally carried a softness that wasn’t there for the past few months.

Arthur smiled, finally pulling his hand away. “We won’t.”

[nameless-jamie]

MY OUR HOUSE

Glimpse Into the Future - Jamie Tartt x fem!PA reader

Masterlist

A/N: AHHHH! First one of this series! Let's gooo. Please read the PA x Jamie Tartt series first, so you'll get it! I hope you love it, hardcore fluff!

TW: cursing, suggestive scenes

Yup, they finally did it. Jamie Tartt and Y/N, his trusty assistant have been together for over a year now. They’ve been through the awkward stages—the miscommunications, the unresolved tension, the late-night talks about feelings they hadn’t yet fully admitted. But they were solid now. The days of pretending they were just an assistant and her prickish football player boss are over. As a couple, they’d found their rhythm and pulse together. How, you ask? Well, that happened a year ago and it's a totally different story. Now they are the happy couple, that everyone predicted they would be. And though they didn’t have it all figured out all the time—Who did?—there was a certainty now. A warmth in knowing that they were on this wild ride together. No matter what.

Currently, they have one problem, though. Jamie and Y/N were tired. Tired of commuting between Jamie's huge bachelor mansion and Y/N's small flat. So, today, they were taking a massive step. After weeks of debating where to live, they were finally choosing a place to call their own.

And it all started like this: Y/N stood in the middle of Jamie’s house, looking around with a mixture of disbelief and a lack of affection. She could see the effort Jamie had put into this space, making it the perfect bachelor pad—though she wouldn’t call his million-dollar mansion "homey," it was very much his—but there was something about it that felt cold, empty even. A place that might look good in a magazine but never felt lived in.

"Honey, I love you, but your place is a fucking nightmare," she said, her voice a little softer than usual. It wasn’t criticism—just an honest statement. She loved him more than anything, but the house… not so much.

Jamie, dramatically clutching his chest like she’d just insulted the very foundation of his existence, gasped. “Babe, you take that back. My place is well nice!” His grin was infectious, but it didn’t quite convince her.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, an exhale slipping from her lips as she glanced around. "Jamie, it looks like a footballer’s bachelor pad exploded and no one cleaned it up."

Jamie scoffed. "It’s modern. S’called style."

Y/N crossed her arms, her lips forming a playful but pointed frown. “It’s sterile, and way too big for one person. How do you even live here?” She gave the room another glance. “It’s like a showroom for nothing.”

“Modern,” Jamie repeated, more to himself than to her, before shrugging with a little smile. “And, it’s... practical.”

Y/N chuckled, her shoulders softening. “Yeah, for someone who’s single and ready to mingle.”

That made Jamie smirk...the perverted kind. "Nah, I'm taken...still ready to mingle, though...If you're up for it." He said with wiggling brows.

"Nope, not until we fix this commuting situation or this Playboy mansion..."

Jamie grinned. "S’pose I should get someone to move in, then."

Her lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Well yes maybe. D'you have someone in mind, yet?”

They both paused the air between them thick with the unspoken. Moving in or not? She knew he wasn’t wrong; they’d spent months now navigating their relationship—learning each other’s quirks, arguing and laughing, and eventually learning how to move forward from it all. They've known each other long before that, even lived together for like a week (scratch that, that was a nightmare). But this? This was a bigger step.

Y/N sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Jamie, we’ve been dating for a year," she continued, her voice a little quieter now, but firm. “We spend almost every night together, but neither of us wants to live in the other’s place. What does that tell you?”

Jamie blinked. "That you should stop bein’ stubborn and move in with me?"

Y/N groaned. "Jamie!"

"What?!"

Y/N chuckled, rolling her eyes. "It means we should get a place together. Something that actually feels like ours. Not just a place that’s convenient. Not just your empty bachelor pad."

Jamie’s grin faltered slightly, just for a second, as if he was still trying to figure out how to reconcile her vision with his own. And then, slowly, a warmth spread across his face. She wants to go all in, he thought. It wasn’t just the cheeky grin she knew so well of him; it was something more vulnerable, something real.

“Yeah,” he murmured softly, his voice taking on a quieter, more sincere tone, his heart full. “Yeah, we should. I would love that, baby.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered, surprised at how deeply those words resonated. This wasn’t about the perfect space, the perfect decor, or the perfect house—it was about the two of them finally deciding to make a space for themselves. Something that belonged to both of them, something that could hold their life and their future together.

The house-hunting process was… a disaster at first.

Jamie hated anything that didn’t have state-of-the-art amenities.

“Babe, the shower pressure is shite,” Jamie had groaned when they toured a particularly swanky house, clearly unimpressed with the plumbing.

Y/N wanted a place that felt warm, lived in, and a home that would make them feel grounded. Jamie? He had other priorities.

Y/N hadn’t even blinked while looking through another very steril, very fancy home. “Jamie, this house has zero personality.”

Jamie had flashed her a sheepish grin, clearly not understanding what she meant. “It’s got everything, baby.”

She shook her head, exasperated. “It’s a showroom, not a home. Where’s the character?”

They had almost given up.

And then, as if by fate, they stumbled across a house just outside the city. A little larger than what Y/N had imagined, but perfect in every other way. The second they walked in, there was an overwhelming feeling of comfort. The high ceilings, the natural light that poured in through every window, the spacious kitchen that was begging to be used—it felt like the kind of place where their lives could unfold, messy but beautiful.

They stood in the living room, not speaking for a few seconds, just taking in the space.

It was perfect.

Big, but not ridiculous. Warm, and welcoming. It even has a freakin' garden.

“Sooo,” Y/N finally said, voice soft and a little teary-eyed. “This one, yeah?”

Jamie wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer as he looked around, letting out a long breath. Finally, their home. “Yeah. I think so. That's the one.”

And for the first time, Y/N realized they weren't just talking about the house. They were talking about the future they were building together.

Jamie’s voice broke the silence, low and teasing as his fingers traced patterns over her waist. “Loads of space,” he murmured, looking around at the open floor plan. “For all your books. For all our shoes. For me trophies.”

Y/N laughed, but it wasn’t just the usual teasing. There was something more in her heart, something deeper. She was happy. She shot him a knowing glance. “You mean your one trophy?”

Jamie gasped in mock disbelief, hand dramatically placed over his chest. “Babe. Unbelievable.”

Y/N grinned. "Anything else?"

Jamie grinned devilishly, eyes glinting. “Loads of space for babies.”

Y/N paused. Her heart skipped, but she kept her voice steady, not letting her emotions fully spill out just yet. “Jamie…”

“Oi, I’m just sayin’,” he teased, stepping closer, his hand brushing her side. “Reckon we could have a whole little team, yeah? Tartt FC.”

Y/N smiled softly, the weight of his words settling over her like a promise. "Let’s move in first before you start planning a whole squad, alright?"

Jamie smiled back, but there was something so warm in his eyes that Y/N couldn’t help but feel everything fall into place.

“Deal.”

The first night in their new house was chaos.

Jamie had insisted on carrying Y/N over the threshold in some grand romantic gesture, but it was more of a comedy show than a scene from a fairytale. He’d almost dropped her because he misjudged the step, and they both ended up laughing, tangled up in each other in the doorway.

“Babe, you’re movin’ too much!” Jamie said, panicked, as they teetered dangerously on the edge of disaster.

“Jamie, put me down before we both die!” Y/N gasped, laughing through the ridiculousness of it all.

But eventually, they made it inside, safe and sound, only to find that the unpacking wasn’t much less chaotic. Jamie was distracted by his attempt to get the TV working, while Y/N took on the bulk of the unpacking.

“Jamie, love of my life, what are you doing there?” Y/N called over to him, already knowing the answer, but indulging him anyway.

“Setting up Sky Sports,” Jamie muttered, eyes glued to the TV. “Priorities, babe.”

Y/N couldn’t help herself. “Your priorities should be helping me unpack so we can actually sleep in a bed tonight.”

Jamie shrugged, looking at her from over his shoulder. “We could just sleep on the couch. Wouldn’t be the first time we did it on a couch.”

Y/N arched a brow. “Jamie Tartt, if you think we’re spending our first night in our new house on the couch, you’ve lost your mind.”

Jamie grinned mischievously. “Wouldn’t be the worst idea. S’not like we’d be sleeping much anyway.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but there was affection behind the sarcasm. “You’re insufferable.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jamie teased, stepping toward her and wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her close. “You love it. Babe, we gotta break in the new bed, yeah?”

Y/N sighed dramatically, but her voice was laced with nothing but affection. “Unbelievable.”

Jamie laughed softly, leaning in to kiss the top of her head, a gentle smile resting on his lips.

By the time they finally got everything done, bed built, things unpacked, it was late as hell.

They collapsed into bed—their bed, in their house—and just lay there, soaking it all in.

Jamie turned his head, watching Y/N’s beautiful face in the dim light.

"We did it, baby," he murmured.

Y/N smiled, reaching over to lace her fingers with his. "Yeah. We did."

Jamie squeezed her hand. "We’re gonna have a good life here, I promise. I love you so much."

"I love you more, honey." Y/N hummed, then turned her head. "You still thinking about your very own Tartt FC, huh?"

Jamie smirked. "'Course I am."

Y/N rolled onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow. "You really want a bunch of little Baby Tartts running around?"

Jamie smirked. "Babe, who wouldn’t want that?"

Y/N snorted. "The world isn’t ready."

Jamie laughed, tugging her down so she was flush against his chest. "Reckon we should start practicin’ then, yeah?"

Y/N laughed, swatting his arm. "Go to sleep, Jamie."

Jamie kissed the top of her head, grinning against her hair.

"Yeah, alright. But tomorrow," he murmured, "we’ll start scouting for the team."

Yes, Y/N knew exactly what he meant by that...

[beesandwasps]

Since Gaza isn’t being bombed any more, they’re actually in better shape now than they were under Biden. They’re still being shot at with impunity by Israelis, but that was happening for the last 70 years so don’t pretend you care about it if you didn’t notice until now.

I would never ask a Democrat for help anyway, because they exist to prevent help from being provided. And I’m totally sure you speak for all black women and all lgbt, and the ones I follow who say the exact opposite of what you do don’t actually exist.

End the Iraq war early? Nope, we leave on Bush’s timeline (and even then Obama tried to keep us there beyond it).

Prosecute the Too Big To Fail Banks for the 2008 meltdown? Haha, nope, they’re Obama’s donors.

Cut the military budget when times are tough? That’s firm — let’s have austerity for social spending instead!

Healthcare? Oh, we’re going to get a legal mandate to buy private insurance in the form of the ACA. I’m sure that will help, it’s not like they’re the ones who created the problem in the first place. (Are you fucking kidding me?!)

Fossil fuels? Obama won’t prosecute BP for the Deepwater Horizon spill and Biden will increase production! And also put tariffs on solar panels and wind turbines from China, when there are basically no other suppliers! (But tariffs aren’t bad when Democrats do them!)

Police violence? Biden will give them federal funds they never had before so they can hire more officers and buy better equipment!

Immigration? In Trump’s first term, he deported fewer people than either Biden’s four years or any four years of Obama, and nearly all the facilities ICE is using (and were using in Trump’s first term) were built by Obama or Biden.

Gaza? 15 months of livestreamed genocide, hospitals and schools bombed into rubble, and Biden constantly lied to the public to make sure the money and weapons kept flowing to Israel, and had the US veto any UN resolutions which might have ended it. (Every single Democrat is going to hell for that if there’s a hell. Including Harris, who said out loud that she couldn’t think of a single thing she would have done differently from Biden.)

Domestic spying? GWB proposed “Total Information Awareness” which the Democrats and the press mocked because it was so obviously fascist overreach, and he backed off. Obama implemented literally every part of the proposal except the name.

Disease? More people died of Covid-19 under Biden’s first two years, when there were vaccines against it, than did under Trump, because he ignored the science and cut relief almost immediately after taking office. He also let corporations dictate the bird flu response so the probable next epidemic could be created.

Foreign interference? Obama approved CIA participation in Operation Car Wash to overthrow the left-leaning Brazilian government and install the Trump-like Bolsonaro, among other meddling in South America.

War? Obama invaded Libya based on lies, sent troops around Africa, and continued GWB’s drone bombing — as did Biden — despite both the CIA and an independent academic study saying that this is actively counterproductive! Oh, and he also petitioned Congress for money to refurbish existing nukes and build new “tactical” ones which Trump now controls.

The Democrats literally could not have produced a more convenient setup for Trump. Why people like you defend them is a mystery.

Why are they so fucking dumb. Does this mean we’ll at least get in new deal in 2040?

[melodyreads]

Matchmaker

hamzah x reader

summary: The reader's friend has been trying make a move at Hamzah ever since she started seeing his online personality. While the reader tries to be a supportive friend, her feelings seem to be getting in the way of things. What if he feels the same?

this came to me in a dream, hope y'all enjoy

---

"Oh my god I can't do this"

It had been like this for almost an hour now.

You and your friend Holly were in the bathroom of Mandy and Martin's apartment. Music echoed in the background as Y/n leaned against the bathroom door tapping her foot as she started to get impatient.

"Seriously girl, just go talk to him. It's really not that deep, you're making it harder than it needs to be."

Y/n didn't care if she was being blunt it was what her friend needed to hear. She had always prided herself on being a good friend. Always offering to be the DD. Always listening to the boy's problems no matter how often she recommended the friend should just break up with him. So after Holly begged her to try and hook her up with Hamzah, the answer would obviously be yes. Why wouldn't it be? Being straightforward and honest came easy, so why did she feel she was holding something back.

She gripped the door handle once more, "Just follow my lead, it's all gonna work out."

Holly let out a sigh of relief, "Seriously Y/n.. what would I do without you."

Y/n flashed her a reassuring smile before turning with a more serious expression flashed her face. Y/n knew that this was Holly's first time actually meeting Hamzah, but it definitely wasn't hers.

Hamzah had been talking to Y/n over Instagram DM's for months now. From casual replies to story posts to sending each other random memes, it was easy to determine they would get along once they finally met each other at a party.

It was almost intimidating how well they got along, Y/n admired all the effort he put into his channel and how well he managed it all. Turns out, thousands of girls felt the same way.

With Holly's hand in yours, you searched for a familiar face through the crowd until you ran into Mandy.

She turned around looking surprised, "There you are! I've been searching everywhere for you two." Mandy pointed behind her, the boys have been so obsessed with that karaoke machine, I should have never purchased it."

Y/n looked past Mandy to see Hamzah and Martin singing karaoke together as if it were a competition on who could make the most noise. Hamzah wore a pink colored shirt that fit him a little too good with a hat that allowed his dark curls to peak through.

"That's a inappropriate way to describe your friend" she thought silently.

Y/n thanked Mandy before walking up to the boys with microphones. As she approached them she could feel a slight tug on her arm as she turned around to meet Holly's worried expression.

"Don't worry" she mouthed as she continued her way over to the duo. Her heart seemed to beat harder as she reached out to touch the arm of curly-haired boy. Probably due to him being the subject of the night.

As he turned to look at you, Hamzah's face practically lite up at the sight of your face.

"Y/n! Where have you been?" He reached down and hugged you with his one free hand and still held the microphone in the other. "I kept asking Mandy about where you ran off to." Y/n chuckled into the embrace. "I wasn't even gone that long,"

"Felt like ages." He muttered. Y/n tried not to think about how just one arm completely wrapped around her waist and how his fingers dug into her hips just right.

Holly cleared her throat.

"Shoot" She almost forgot why she was here.

Y/n released Hamzah with a jolt as she stepped to the side to introduce her friend, "I wanted you to meet Holly. Holly this is Hamzah, Hamzah this is Holly."

"You said that already" Holly said softly.

"Did I? Well... you get my point." Y/n looked back to Hamzah to see him he was staring back at her almost in disbelief.

Hamzah blinked, as if suddenly snapping out of a daze. His usual easygoing smirk returned, and he turned to Holly with a friendly nod.

"Hey, nice to meet you," he said, extending his hand.

Holly hesitated for a second before shaking it, her grip noticeably stiff. Y/n could feel the tension rolling off her friend, and she silently begged Holly to just relax. This was what she wanted, right?

"You too," Holly replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Y/n talks about you a lot."

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat. Did she really? Before she could gauge Hamzah’s reaction, he chuckled, looking between the two girls.

"All good things, I hope?"

Y/n forced a laugh, ignoring the way her palms suddenly felt clammy. "Mostly," she teased, hoping to lighten the mood. "Except for the part where you butcher every song you sing."

Hamzah gasped dramatically. "Excuse you, I was putting on a performance. It’s about passion, not pitch."

Martin, who had been silently watching the exchange with an amused grin, finally spoke up. "Man, you’re gonna pretend like you weren’t just screaming into the mic?"

Hamzah shrugged. "I was creating a vibe."

Y/n rolled her eyes, but she was grateful for the slight shift in energy. She glanced at Holly, who still looked nervous but was at least smiling now. That was progress.

"Speaking of vibes," Hamzah said, tilting his head. "You’re acting different tonight."

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat. "Different how?"

His eyes searched hers, as if trying to figure something out. "I dunno," he admitted. "Just... different."

Holly laughed, breaking the moment. "Probably because she’s been hyping me up for this conversation all night."

Hamzah raised an eyebrow. "This conversation?"

Y/n winced. So much for being subtle.

"She thinks you and Holly would make a great match," Martin chimed in, completely oblivious to the way Y/n’s stomach twisted at hearing it said out loud.

For a split second, something flickered in Hamzah’s expression—too fast for Y/n to catch. Then, he smiled. "Oh yeah?"

Holly nodded quickly. "I mean, yeah. You seem cool. And I think we’d get along?"

It came out more like a question than a statement, and Y/n resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands. She wanted to help, but something about this whole situation felt... off.

Hamzah glanced at Y/n again before turning back to Holly. "Well, I appreciate the intro," he said smoothly. "But I gotta admit, I didn’t expect this."

Y/n frowned. "Expect what?"

He hesitated, then grinned. "You playing matchmaker."

Her stomach dropped. There was something in the way he said it, something that made her feel like she had completely miscalculated. Before she could respond, Hamzah lifted his mic again.

"Anyway," he said, turning to Martin. "We got a song to finish."

And just like that, the moment was over.

Y/n watched as he walked away, laughing as Martin passed him the next song choice. Holly exhaled beside her.

"That wasn’t terrible," she murmured.

Y/n nodded numbly, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had just shifted. And she wasn’t sure if she liked it.

--

The night continued as if nothing had happened. Holly chatted away, occasionally stealing glances at Hamzah, and Y/n did her best to stay present in the conversation. But her mind was elsewhere.

She kept replaying Hamzah’s words in her head. You playing matchmaker.

Why did it sound like there was something more behind them?

After a while, Holly got up to get another drink, and Martin was too busy butchering the lyrics to some 2000s throwback to notice the way Y/n was zoning out.

That’s when she felt someone slide into the seat beside her.

"Hey," Hamzah said, voice lower than usual.

Y/n turned to him with a surprised look plastered on her face. "...Hey."

He exhaled, drumming his fingers on the table. "So... Holly, huh?"

Y/n forced a smile. "Yeah. She’s great, right?"

Hamzah tilted his head, studying her. "She seems nice."

There was something careful about his tone, something measured. Y/n suddenly felt exposed, like he could see right through her.

"You don’t seem convinced," she pointed out.

He let out a soft chuckle. "It’s not that." He paused, then shook his head. "I just—I need to ask you something."

Y/n’s stomach tightened. "Okay?"

Hamzah leaned in slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why are you trying so hard to set me up with someone else?"

Her breath hitched. Feeling as though she had just been accused of murder. "What?"

"You heard me." His eyes searched hers, serious now. "Is it because you actually think we’d be good together? Or because you’re trying to convince yourself of something?"

Y/n’s pulse quickened. "That’s not—"

"Because if it’s the second one," he continued, his gaze unwavering, "then I need you to tell me right now."

Y/n swallowed hard. The air around them felt heavier, charged. "Hamzah, I was just trying to—"

"To ignore this?" he interrupted.

She froze.

Hamzah ran a hand through his hair, as if frustrated with himself. "Look, I wasn’t gonna say anything. I thought maybe I was imagining things. But then you tried to push me toward Holly, and all I could think was—why would you do that? Unless you were trying to avoid something."

Y/n’s heart was pounding now.

Before she could react, he reached out, gently taking her hand in his. It wasn’t dramatic, wasn’t rushed. Just quiet, steady.

"Tell me I’m wrong," he said. "Tell me there’s nothing here, and I’ll drop it."

Y/n opened her mouth, but no words came out. Because she couldn’t say it.

"What would Holly think?"

As if he could read her mind Hamzah sighed and spoke again, "Can you please stop thinking about what everyone else wants and just tell me.. what do you want?"

Y/n felt a pang of guilt matched with a sudden urge to jump on top of the boy in front of her.

Hamzah exhaled, his grip tightening just slightly. "Y/n, I like you."

The words settled between them, heavy and undeniable.

She sucked in a sharp breath. "You—"

"I like you," he repeated, softer this time. "Not Holly. Not anyone else. And I think... I think you feel the same way."

Y/n felt like the entire world had just shifted.

Because, for the first time, she couldn’t run from it.

But she was done running.

Y/n placed her hand on the side of Hamzah's face and pulled him in for a kiss that made her forget about every person that could be watching around her.

He matched her vigor as their lips moved against each other with fever. His free hand grabbed at her waist as if it would disappear if he let it go for too long while his other hand softly ran up and down the arm still cupping his face.

Y/n broke the kiss with a shaky breath as she finally spoke, "I like you too."

The moment the words left her lips, something in Hamzah’s expression shifted. Relief. Something deeper.

"You do?" he asked, as if he needed to hear it again to believe it.

Y/n let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. "Yeah. I do."

A slow, lopsided smile spread across his face. "Then why were you trying to set me up with Holly?"

Y/n groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Because I was just trying to make everyone happy. I thought... I don't know, I thought the two of you might have got along and I figured that was more important than what I wanted."

Hamzah chuckled, tugging her hand away from her face. "You really thought that would work?"

She shrugged, feeling suddenly shy. "It was worth a shot."

He shook his head, amused. "Y/n, I’ve only ever had eyes for you."

She felt her breath hitch at these words.

"From the moment we met," he continued, his voice quieter now, "it’s always been you."

Y/n felt her heart squeeze.

And as he laced his fingers through hers, Y/n realized she had been waiting too.

[malsmind]

more than we thought

a bsf!mat xbsf!reader series by @ 𝓂𝒶𝓁𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒹

chapter 1

warnings: swearing, slight flirting

wc: 1.5k

english is not my first language!

unexpectedly, you and matt met on the east coast, where you both lived a few years back, making your first actual and geniuine bond of friendship with the triplets when you were fifteen and they were seventeen. you got along with his brothers, then they inroduced you to matt. it just clicked. the both of you got along instantly, the same interests you shared along with your and matts mental health, dealing with similar problems just made you feel understood, and he felt the same.

who would have thought that about four years later, you guys would share a bond thats even stronger, a friendship that you'd never want to lose.

creating content on the internet, making youtube videos.. it was a job that wasn't your cup of tea, but your closest friends loved it. you always supported them, every step of the way til this day, you were happy for them, it made you happy to see them so happy about it.

even when in 2022, when you were seventeen, and they were nineteen, they moved to Los Angeles.

they came to visit, obviously because of their family and friends. it was weird at first, not hanging out with them during the summer, not getting to go for late night drives with matt when school was draining you again, but it wasn't the worst. you knew you'd join them soon after you graduated, that's how you always planned it to be. when that day finally came, you were beyond excited, and so were nick, matt and chris. eventually, you did find your passion in making content on social media. not fully commited to it, but you still did your occaisonal little vlog, posted tiktoks, instagram dumps and appeared on your friends youtube channel every now and then. it was safe to say, you were happy in life. highschool sucked for you, you had friends, sure, but none that you'd actually feel happy around. no real friends, no friends that'd actually have you feeling like you had someone you could trust, laugh with, share memories with. so moving to LA to where your real friends were, getting your first own apartment, growing independent felt like a dream come true.

you were currently sat on matt's bed, looking for some decoration and furniture for your apartment. you moved in almost a year ago but you didn't get the chance to fully furnish and decorate your apartment yet. decisions on what you want and the various options making it harder than it needed to be.

"i can't find a good coffee table. they all just look the same." you sighed, throwing your phone aside and flopping down into matt's pile of pillows.

he turned around from where he was sat at his desk, playing fortnite with chris, taking a look at your phone display layed out with pictures of coffee tables. they indeed all looked the same. "well, you got any idea what you want specifically?" matt asked you, turning back around to face is screen. "anything that doesn't look like those right there. they look too modern and it's just not for me." you picked up your phone again, trying your luck on facebook marketplace, vinted, and other second hand places. vintage was always your way to go. the aesthetic fitting your personality just right. at the end of the day, your apartment was like your safe space, so your goal was to make it look cozy and feel like it too.

noticing you were now back into focusing on your deep dive on furniture, matt didn't say anything more. you scrolled for what felt like ages until you finally found your dream coffee table for your living room, a perfect match for the couch you had bought two months ago. you apbrubtly got up from matt's bed, holding your phone for him to look at your find. "oh my god. tell me this isn't the most PERFECT coffee table you've ever seen" matt turned his head, shoving his headset off on one side to be able to pay you more attention, his eyes squiting at the picture in front of him. "how much is that?"

"$200" you smiled, happy with your find.

"$200 for that old thing??" matt frowned at you as if trying to ask you if you were seriously going to spend that much money on it. "it's a fair price, dude." you returned his expression, turning your phone off and shoving it into your pocket. matt shrugged "you gonna go pick it up?"

"yup, you wanna come along?" you asked him, fixing your hair from laying on it for the past two hours. "yeah, lemme just finish this game" matt said, putting his headset back on, letting chris know too. you made your way out of matt's room, sitting down on the couch next to nick while waiting.

"nick look" you squealed, proud and happy of what you're about to pick up. nick looked up from his laptop, grabbing your phone and swiping trough the pictures. "oh my god, that's PERFECT for your living room!" nick exclaimed, matching your excitement. "literally what i said. i think plants by the wall next to the couch would look SO good with that coffee table in the room." you said, picturing it. nick agreed, handing you your phone back. "you wanna come along with me and matt and pick it up?" you asked nick, typing out a message for the seller to let him know you'll be on your way soon. "i gotta edit our friday video, sorry. but i'll come by when you got it!" nick offered and you nodded. "no worries."

matt's door opened and he walked up to you and nick, stretching. "you ready to head out?" he asked, nodding his head at you. you got up with a yes, waving goodbye to nick and making your way downstairs, matt following close. matt had picked you up earlier today, so your car was back at your place. he drove to the location put into the gps of the car, bobbing his head along to whatever song you put on aux. you were restless with excitement, admiring the pictures of the piece of furtniture that you were soon to call your own.

you arrived at the sellers place after about 15 minutes of driving, getting out of the car with a slight jump of happiness. matt shook his head with a chuckle, locking the car and following you. the coffee table looked just like it did on the photos, just perfect. after getting it into the car and driving to your place, you and matt carried it up into your apartment, placing it down on the rug in your living room. just how you imagined it, it looked perfect. you loved it. "it's so fucking perfect i'm gonna cry!" you chirped excitedly, hugging matt's side tightly. he hugged you back, matching your happiness. "still can't believe you spent $200 on it though."

"one hundred precent worth it and you know it" you smiled, proudly looking at your finally fully furnished living room area.

...

the soft sound of your spotify playlist coming from the TV filled the room, along with conversation between you and your friends. you were laying between matt's legs on the couch, the back of your head resting against his chest while talking to nick and chris. "i mean, it's technically the same fuckin' thing, no?" matt huffed, shrugging. "kid, no. a TV show takes so much more effort to like, get trough." chris spoke. "not really to be honest. if you fuck with it it's not gonna feel as dragging like it would when you don't, obviously."

"nah but still, i'd rather just watch a movie than dedicate a whole day to grinding episodes. like you fully plan your day out around watching a whole season of a TV show" chris argued.

you and nick both exchanged looks, trying to hold your laughter at the meaningless conversation between the other two. the argument about what's better to watch kept going on for a little while longer until it eventually died down.

for the late evening, all of you decided on doordashing some food, eating it while watching a movie. when the movie finished, everyone got up, matt tapped your shoulders that his hands were rested on, urging you to get up so he could too. you got up, stretching, matt matched your movements. "i'll probably be out tomorrow but i can swing by later on." you let them know and they nodded, making their way to the front door of your apartment. hugging you goodbye, nick and chris made their way to the car. matt hugged you, "text me when you guys get home" you mumbled into his hoodie, hugging him back.

you said your goodbyes to matt for the night, closing the door and making your way into the living room, cleaning up the empty cartons of pizza and cans of sodas.

finished with your nightly routine, wiping off your makeup and doing some skincare, you got into bed, picking up your phone.

series link (everything you need to know)

taglist

@grace-sturnz @rcklessheavn @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @chrissturniolossidebitch

[hrizantemy]

I was searching for quotes to talk about something else, and while I was searching, I found this, and now I wanna rant cause it pisses me off.

“There were only a few blocks in the city like that. When I’d asked Rhys about them, about why they had not been improved, he merely said that he had tried. But displacing people while their homes were torn down and rebuilt … Tricky.” (Chapter 4 of ACOFAS)

So... Rhys was aware that people, other than Nesta, lived in the same apartment complex as her. He also understood that it was tricky to renovate, much less tear down, an entire apartment building that people lived in, even to improve it. Yet, it became no problem when he needed to punish Nesta.

He set his plan into motion the day before the intervention, meaning the residents got a one day notice that their home was being torn down. More over, there's no indication that he found them somewhere else to stay, or if it would be acceptable to them. I mean, with a day's notice, they don't really have a choice, do they? It's that or the streets.

On top of that, he didn't even rebuild or renovate them for the original tenants to move back into. It was a shelter for those displaced by the war, which is all well and good, but where have those people been in the last year, while Feysand built their fifth mansion? In the teaser at the end of ACOFAS, Cassian is about to knock on Nesta's door, and as he does, he acknowledged that both the town house and house of wind are empty, because they all stay at the river house, so it wasn't either of those places, even though the citizens, seemed to be able to come and go from there freely.

“As High Lady, I hosted weekly open audiences with Rhys at the House of Wind.” (ACOFAS Chapter 4)

If I remember right, the go there for star fall too, so clearly there isn't an issue with people coming and going. Was there some secret exit Nesta was never told about? How do people not find the entire thing suspicious?

And let’s not forget—the entire intervention was planned behind Nesta’s back. She had no warning, no say, and no chance to prepare. Rhys had already decided the day before that she was losing her home, meaning that no matter what Nesta said or did in that room, the outcome was set. This wasn’t an intervention; it was an ambush. They gave her an illusion of choice while making it clear there was only one “acceptable” answer: obey or be cast out. And worse? The others just stood by and let it happen.

Feyre, who should have understood what it felt like to be powerless, didn’t hesitate to use her High Lady title to force Nesta’s compliance. Cassian, who knew how much Nesta hated the House of Wind, didn’t argue against her being trapped there. Amren, who claimed to be Nesta’s friend, mocked her in front of everyone and stood with them instead. And Rhys? Rhys acted like he was being merciful, like this wasn’t about control, as if tearing down an entire apartment complex overnight wasn’t an extreme punishment over drinking and meaningless hookups.

And let’s talk about the hypocrisy of the Inner Circle’s “concern.” They spent months watching Nesta spiral, judging her from a distance, but did any of them try a real, genuine conversation with her? Did anyone sit her down before this and ask her what she needed? Offer her options that weren’t just “get better on our terms or be exiled”? No. Because it was never about Nesta’s well-being. If it were, they wouldn’t have waited until they were personally inconvenienced to act. They wouldn’t have forced her into a place they knew she’d feel like a prisoner. They wouldn’t have ripped her home away from her overnight without a second thought for the people who lived there.

The worst part? Rhysand frames it like this was some great kindness, like they saved Nesta from herself. But you don’t save someone by taking away their choices. You don’t save someone by punishing them for grieving the wrong way. You don’t save someone by isolating them under the guise of help. What Rhys did wasn’t help—it was control wrapped in the pretty lie of “what’s best for her.” And the fact that nobody in the Inner Circle questioned it? That just makes it even worse.

What makes it even more infuriating is how Rhys gets to play the benevolent ruler while doing the exact same things he would never let another High Lord get away with. If Tamlin had done something like this—had forcibly removed a vulnerable person from their home under the guise of “helping” them—everyone would be up in arms about how controlling and abusive it was. But because it’s Rhysand, the so-called progressive, feminist ruler, it’s somehow acceptable? It’s somehow for Nesta’s own good?

This wasn’t just about Nesta—it was a show of power. It was Rhys reminding everyone that he had control over them, that their homes, their choices, their lives were ultimately in his hands. If he could do this to Nesta, Feyre’s own sister, then what chance did any regular citizen of Velaris have? He made a conscious choice to tear down that apartment complex overnight, without warning, to send a message. Nesta wasn’t just being punished—she was being humiliated, made an example of, and the collateral damage? The people who also lived there? They were just an afterthought.

If this shelter was so important, why wasn’t it prioritized before? Why wasn’t it part of the many rebuilding efforts after the war? Why did it only become urgent when it gave them an excuse to strip Nesta of her independence? They had the time, the money, and the resources to build an entire mansion for Rhys and Feyre, but they couldn’t be bothered to create a shelter for displaced citizens until it served their agenda? It just proves that this was never about doing what was right—it was about controlling Nesta under the guise of righteousness.

They gaslight her into thinking this was all her fault. That if she had just behaved the way they wanted, if she had just healed the way they deemed acceptable, none of this would have happened. They make her feel like the problem, when in reality, she was a grieving, traumatized woman who needed support, not exile disguised as an intervention. But no, instead of meeting her with real compassion, they met her with control, force, and punishment. And somehow, Nesta is the villain? Absolutely not.

They rip away her autonomy, humiliate her, isolate her in the House of Wind, and then act like she should thank them for “saving” her. But saving someone means meeting them where they are, not dragging them somewhere they don’t want to be and forcing them into a version of healing that only benefits you. And let’s be real—their idea of “healing” was never about what Nesta needed. It was about making her palatable to them, easier to deal with, more like who they wanted her to be.

And what really gets me? The double standards. Rhysand and Cassian both use drinking and sex as coping mechanisms, but when Nesta does it? Suddenly, it’s a problem. Suddenly, it’s out of control and dangerous. Cassian drinks just as much, but nobody’s forcing him into an intervention. Rhysand literally spent years letting his trauma dictate his choices, but Nesta doesn’t get that same space to process? Instead, she gets punished for grieving the wrong way.

Let’s talk about how the Inner Circle treats Nesta’s trauma like it’s something she owes them to fix. Like she should be getting better on their timeline and in a way that makes them comfortable. But what did they ever do to actually help her before this? Feyre never once genuinely tried to reach Nesta without judgment. Cassian would show up to her apartment when it suited him, but did he ever try to truly understand why she was pushing everyone away? Amren, who Nesta thought was her friend, turned on her the moment she didn’t act how Amren wanted. And Rhys? Rhys had been looking for an excuse to control Nesta from the moment she refused to bow to him.

What’s even more disgusting is how they used Feyre’s pregnancy as a weapon against Nesta. As if Nesta, the same person who risked her life to save Feyre twice, would ever wish harm on her or her child. They act like she’s a danger, like she’s this uncontrollable force, when in reality, they just couldn’t stand that she wouldn’t submit to their version of what a “healed” Nesta should look like.

The truth is, they didn’t want Nesta to heal—they wanted her to conform. They wanted her to stop being difficult, stop reminding them of their own failures, and stop making them uncomfortable. And that’s not love. That’s not care. That’s control. They acted like she was choosing to self-destruct, like she was deliberately making their lives harder, when in reality, she was just drowning and no one threw her a lifeline until it became inconvenient for them. Where was this intervention months ago, when she was spiraling? Where was this support before they decided she was an embarrassment? They didn’t help her because they cared—they helped her because they were tired of dealing with her.

Rhysand’s entire inner circle is made up of people who have coped with their trauma in violent and self-destructive ways, but only Nesta gets treated like a threat. And the fact that they expect her to be grateful? To look back and thank them for tearing apart her life, forcing her into isolation, and treating her like a burden?

[hergrandplan]

"He's the one"

thank you @enjoythesilentworld for this fun tag!!

Post a 1-5 paragraph excerpt of a WIP/fic idea that may never make it out of your drafts but is near and dear to your heart.

I started this so so long ago and actually looked at it a few days ago and realized that this may simply be one I can't figure out. I know what it's supposed to be (exes who are friends, and then Simon gets engaged and Wille becomes his best man) but I don't know how, and either way, I don't think this particular scene will make it in! So here it is, for your enjoyment (yes. this is longer than 1-5 paragraphs. it could have been even longer but there were too many square brackets in the final few that I couldn't figure out. but hey. More cake!)

**

With a loud “Wille, you’ll never believe what happened!” Simon stormed into the living room, temporarily making Wille look up from the book he was reading. A book he was enjoying.

He already regretted giving Simon the keys to his house. One of these days, he was sure, Wille was going to come home and find Simon splayed out on his couch, having raided his cupboards and eating all his snacks.

“What, Simon?” he said with feigned disinterest, while trying to finish this last paragraph.

Simon grabbed the book out of his hands before he could, and tossed to the other side of the room.

“Hey!” Wille exclaimed. [maybe this needs to be more of a description of the sound like ‘disgruntled noise’ or something but not disgruntled] “I was reading that!”

“You can read later, I have something to tell you.” Simon sat down on the couch next to him, the widest grin possible on his face and a sparkle in his eyes. “I met someone. And I’m pretty sure he’s the one.”

“You said that about the previous guy. And the guy before that. And the guy before that.”

“Yeah, but this time I’m sure of it.” Simon fell back against the couch cushions, and ran a hand through his black curls. “He’s sweet, and considerate, and incredible in bed. I mean the way he–“

“Okay, okay, I do not need to hear you go on about your sexual escapades again, please. Where did you meet him?”

Simon’s hand got stuck in his curls, and he blushed. Actually blushed, and that’s how Wille knew the answer.

“Please don’t say the club.”

Simon didn’t reply.

“Simon, we talked about this. Not every guy you fuck is the one.”

“Yeah, but this time it’s different! I mean, I met him last Saturday and we went out for dinner last night and Wille,” Simon sat up again, stared into Wille’s eyes. “I came from his place just now. I haven’t even been home yet since Saturday. He has a bed frame. A bed frame that is incredibly suitable to – ” Wille gave him a look, and Simon stopped mid-sentence. “Okay, it doesn’t matter what it’s suitable to, but c’mon.”

“Wait, but if you met him Saturday –“ Wille quickly did the math in his head. “Simon, you’ve known this guy for what, 4 days?”

“I know, I know, it’s too soon but truly, I’m telling you, he’s the one. For real this time.”

Wille rolled his eyes and get up to get his book from where Simon had flung it to heedlessly.

“Sure. Tell me again in a month when it hasn’t crashed and burned again, and maybe I’ll believe you.”

Simon’s problem, according to himself, was that he just loved too much and that they were never able to handle it. And maybe he was right, a bit – almost every guy he met was the one until he found they weren’t ready for a relationship, were still in love with their ex, or, in more than one case, had a girlfriend already.

Simon’s problem, according to Wille, was that he couldn’t see past all the raging red flags. Simon would have killed it if he were a bull fighting in the arena.

Not tagging anyone bc Idk who has been tagged already and I sadly dont have the brain capacity or the time for that rn. So if you see this and want to join in: this is your sign!

[spideyson-stuff]

‼️ANGST‼️

Tony is the kind of person who is rude without realizing it, and Peter is not very sensitive but is still a teenager who needs approval and affection, so Tony only realizes he is being an idiot when it is too late

So he would be an asshole without realizing it, belittling Peter's efforts sometimes

Tony: Wow, you call THAT an experiment? boy, at your age I already had 3 PHD's HA!

Peter: Oh... so cool haha...

Or simply belittling Peter for being younger, just with the intention of protecting him, but wow, he does it the wrong way...

Tony: Avengers, come on, everyone united is important

Peter: Ok I'll get my suit-

Tony: No no no no no, you are a reckless child, you will only cause us problems

Peter: Uh... ok... see you later then...

Or worse, he would embarrass himself in front of everyone for fun, thinking he was being funny

Tony: Hey hey hey calm down kid, we don't want you to freak out like last time, do we?

Steve: What... are you talking about?

Tony: Puff, you know, kids, he got all pissed off because I didn't listen to him about a test and he started yelling like crazy talking nonsense, and I had to ground him hahaha

And everyone knows you SHOULDN'T go around talking about someone having a tantrum but Tony doesn't listen and keeps doing similar things

Or just bad jokes about how Peter's parents are dead and how Peter will never see them again, honestly cruel stuff if the person you're making the joke with isn't comfortable with it

He's also kind of controlling and hypocritical, but I've already talked about that, in short, he's a jerk to Peter without realizing it.

One day he yells at Peter by accident because he was having a bad day, it was the last straw, Peter just started crying without realizing it and ran away from the tower and didn't speak to Tony for weeks

Tony doesn't know why but everyone throws in his face what an idiot he's being, Peter doesn't forgive him until months later, Tony doesn't blame him for it...

Everything turns out okay in the end? I don't know

[nomsfaultau]

The Promised Neverland au for S3I. 

Starts out with Tommy in a strong Emma position, only he’s younger and has a different type of intelligence. Less genius, more charisma type ringleading people. When he goes to return the left toy and learns the truth, he’s alone. Tommy immediately tells Techno and Phil, two older boys he trusts. While at first they claim they don’t believe him (and tease quite a bit about it) they’re clever enough to figure it out once given the push. Not doing well under the pressure, Tommy’s already mediocre grades start to slip. Phil and Techno help tutor him which makes for an excellent cover for planning their escape. Young, naive, and optimistic Tommy is determined to break out everyone.

Techno (Ray-ish) is a lot more jaded, thinking about themselves getting out first and foremost, and planning to start a revolution against the tyrannical system once they’re out. Leads to terse conflict between him and Tommy, because Techno isn’t going to die like a hero would. He doesn’t have perfect recall, but instead schizophrenia that he had to learn to deal with fast and silently. The paranoia aspects were what led him to be so suspicious and eventually realize the truth, but until Tommy confirmed it he’d been plagued with doubt that it was a hallucination. As the situation grows more dire, his mentality switches from escape to turning the orphanage into a crater. What he tries is less self immolation and more anarchist firebombing combined with a (potentially manic) conviction that Technoblade Never Dies.

Philza (Norman-ish) wants everyone out, but doesn’t see a practical way, and deep down is a realist. He’d also sacrifice himself for the others in a heartbeat, but doesn’t see how that would do any good (at first). Philza is ruthless and cunning when it comes to protecting his family. He puts a lot of pressure on himself to always put the younger kids first  since he’s the oldest (only by a few months) and tries to comfort them. But he’s not perfect at it, since he is just a kid and it’s a lot of responsibility. Had Philza been a girl he would’ve been offered the role of Mom. But he isn’t. And since the other children always come before himself, when the time comes Philza accepts his ‘adoption’ and is devoured to buy more time. For real because I don’t like that plot twist. 

New troubles arise from things like Tommy struggling to keep high enough grades to not get adopted next, Philza being easier to tempt to doomsday thinking, Techno not being as adept a liar as Ray for the double crossing spy aspect (or perhaps Mom gaslit him instead?). Another huge problem is that Tommy actually is easier to manipulate, and for a while is convinced that Mom doesn’t know and is their friend while Techno and Philza desperately try to prevent the younger kid from going to Mom for help.

[othernightslikethis]

White Emperor

Ningning x Male Reader x Winter (aespa)

Not really a couple with three btw, maybe.

It’s normal for frustration to become an unrelenting shadow, dogging your every step, and there’s something exasperating about how others seem to sneer at that reality. Not that it should matter to you—at least, that was the illusion you clung to. Life, up until now, had been kind enough that you never had to worry too much. And perhaps that was the true crux of the problem.

Real Madrid represents the pinnacle of any footballer’s career, an undeniable testament to the greatness that so few ever reach. Even the most inattentive observer recognises this indisputable truth, for it is the greatest club in the world—a monument erected upon history and immortal glory. To feel indifferent to the privilege of donning the white shirt would be an affront to the very nature of the sport

“We’re loaning you out.”

The words from the club official struck like a shard of reality embedding itself in your soul, reverberating with the force of a deafening crash. You had never imagined such a sentence could wound you so deeply, and yet it did—devastatingly so. The truth crashed down upon you like a runaway car slamming into a wall—sudden, inescapable, and catastrophic. No longer useful to Real Madrid. No longer indispensable. Reduced to the status of a disposable piece, an obsolete cog in the machine, a mere remnant of a glory that no longer belonged to you. Disgust coursed through your veins like a biting chill; bile surged up your throat, thick and acrid, and you swallowed it so quickly you barely registered the bitter taste burning your windpipe. Your eyes, vacant and wandering, swept across the room until they landed on the imposing figure of president Florentino Pérez.

— Y-you can’t…? — you stammered, suffocated by desperation. — Surely not! There must something… I’ll work harder… You can’t… I—” The firm weight of a hand on your shoulder cut your plea short. Your eyes blinked, dispelling the mist of tears beginning to form, and when your vision finally cleared, you found yourself staring at the imposing figure of your agent. More than an agent, he was a mentor. More than a mentor, he was your father.

— Where are we going? His voice, deep and unwavering, sought no explanation—only a destination. There were no pointless questions, no futile protests. Only acceptance—not resigned, but tinged with something worse. A certain… disappointment. No, that wasn’t quite right. What resonated in his tone was not mere dissatisfaction. It was disillusionment. And in that moment, you knew—you had failed.

— London — came the emotionless response. — Your destination for the next twelve months is Tottenham Hotspur.

The sentence was passed. The judgment, final. The weight of exile settled upon your shoulders like an unappealable verdict, and all that remained was to press forward, even as each step became a merciless reminder of what you had lost.

Your transfer would be finalised within a week, and the urgency weighed on you like an inescapable burden. You needed to gather your belongings and organise the essential paperwork for the transaction, even though the club had already handled most of the bureaucratic procedures. Time was slipping through your fingers like fine sand, and each passing moment served as a reminder that your departure was imminent. It was on one of those nights, as you returned home, utterly drained by the relentless routine, that a heavy sigh escaped you before you collapsed onto your bed. Just then, your phone buzzed, momentarily cutting through the exhaustion that had taken hold of your body. With your vision blurred by fatigue, you hesitated for a brief moment, debating whether to answer the call or let it fade into oblivion. But that hesitation vanished the instant your eyes landed on the illuminated icon on the screen.

Soulmate❄️

A smile—subtle yet undeniable—curved your lips as you immediately recognised the person behind the notification. Kim Min-jeong, or rather, Winter. A name that evoked vivid memories of an indelible past, shaped by a friendship that had withstood the relentless passage of time. You had grown up together, sharing not only the carefree innocence of childhood but also the turmoil and discoveries of adolescence. Though she was two years older, that difference had never been a barrier between you; if anything, it only strengthened the bond you shared.

As a child, you had been a timid boy, always hesitant, your words stumbling on your tongue before they could be spoken. Winter, however, embraced your fragility without hesitation, becoming both your shield and your voice when yours failed you. You were the shy boy who hid behind her, and she, the fierce storm that pulled you fearlessly into the world.

Yet, as the years passed, as childhood gave way to adolescence and, eventually, adulthood, the feelings you harboured for her began to shift. The fraternal affection transformed into a silent admiration, which in turn grew into a massive crush. And before you could fully grasp what was happening in your own heart, you realised that friendship was no longer enough. You loved her, and you knew it with the certainty of someone recognising an undeniable truth

Perhaps she even knew it too.

But then, Winter chose a path that led her away from you. She embraced the fleeting, dazzling life of an idol, and you, in turn, felt your world waver under the weight of that decision. You understood that each of you had your own ambitions and responsibilities, but that didn’t stop your heart from shattering as you watched her leave. Fate, ever cruel and unyielding, pulled your paths apart. And still, you hid your pain beneath a mask of quiet acceptance.

You never openly confessed the feelings that had taken root in your chest, but neither did you make any real effort to conceal them. Small gestures gave away what your voice never dared to say—like the fact that her contact was saved as "Soulmate" or that your wallpaper was still a photo of the two of you, arms wrapped around each other. Yet she never seemed to notice. And if she did, she never gave any indication of reciprocation.

But perhaps none of that mattered anymore. Life’s twists and turns had led you down separate roads. She had followed the fleeting glow of the spotlight, and you, in pursuit of your own dreams, had left Korea behind—drifting further away from the only person who had ever made your heart waver between hope and heartbreak.

Sliding your finger across the screen, your eyes caught the slightly sloppy text—likely due to the late hour. She must have just woken up or something.

"I heard u gonna switch again."

The message was simple, and yet you grin like an idiot when you see it, your fingers moving before you know it.

"Yeah. Feels like I’m lettin’ everyone down lately."

"Oh. So sad. I'll call ya."

When the phone rang, you already knew it was her. As you answered, her voice sounded familiar, yet tinged with a tone that made you shudder.

— I thought the circumstances were considerably better.

You nearly let out a laugh—dry, laced with a bitterness that would linger within you for weeks on end.

— If only everything in life were that easy. Your voice takes on a sharper edge. — Do you already know where they’re sending me?

— Tottenham. I saw the rumours on social media. Good luck?

That was when, at last, you surrendered to disbelief and burst into laughter—a loud, sarcastic, scornful laugh, as if the whole situation were nothing but a cruel joke, a distorted delusion of reality. Were you truly being forced to abandon the club of your dreams… to join the less decorated side of London?

— You must be joking! Do you have any idea when they last won the English league? Abeoji was still crawling around stark naked, mumbling his first words!

For reasons beyond comprehension, her laughter dissipated some of the fire raging inside you. For a fleeting moment, you almost forgot how delightful that sound was.

— Someone sounds utterly disillusioned. You can always come back home. She singsongs while you raise an eyebrow, though your expression soon darkens.

— No. The deal’s already done, only my signature remains. And stepping foot in that league, oversaturated with mediocre players, would be the equivalent of signing my own downfall.

On the other end of the line, she hesitates, lost in thought. Only after a few moments does she dare break the silence.

— You really think you’re better than the Korean league, yet you can’t even make the Real Madrid bench? Hmmm. Naughty boy.

You shrug, though she can’t see it, and reply with the unshaken calm of someone who harbours no doubt.

— I don’t think I’m better. I know I am.

[youdontknowhowtodiequietly]

@tuehquestionmark hiya! i saw your comment and i'm addressing it in a reblog bc i hate writing long paragraphs in the comments (i'm on mobile so it's hell on earth)

Love the argument for Andrew as The Desolation. I can still argue for The Web and I'll get into that in this post, but The Desolation being his fear is actually such a good argument. I also agree Kevin can be The Web; I was actually going to say that in my initial post but I had just given The Web to Andrew and Neil so I thought it was a bit overkill. I think what we should bare in mind is these characters are sick as fuck (pos) and they have so many intricate little fears and I love them and Nora did such a good job RAHH-

Okay, enough with all that. Lemme explain my main point about why I think Neil is The Web, far more than I think The End is (I'm not shitting on your point, btw, I can totally see why his fear is The End as well)

I think The End was Mary's fear, through and through. It's why she ran in the first place. I know most people see The End as just the Death fear, but it can also 100% be the end of anything - a relationship, a project, a book. When it becomes a fear it is when you are terrified of what might happen After. Of what might happen to you, yourself, now that you have nothing you feel is worth living for. I think it can probably manifest itself a lot more in codependent relationships and the fear of them Ending.

Initially, Mary was not afraid of Neil dying, she was afraid of losing him and never seeing him again because she likely knew the conditions of the Ravens and the fact they have no contact with their family once they join. When they ran, however, it definitely also became about dying, but I think the core element of it was losing Neil for whatever reason.

So I think The End is Mary's fear, and I think her actions because of that fear contributes towards Neil's fear of The Web.

We see that Neil is a skittish little critter. He hadn't stayed in one place for probably for longer than 6 months, for about 11 years (I think he was 7 when they ran, and he was 18 when he joined the Foxes) until Palmetto. That shit 100% created attachment and commitment issues. He was terrified of getting close to people, because he saw that as a Venus Flytrap. He knew that if he got attached to someone, he wouldn't be able to run again.

The scary thing about The Web is, for the most part, you don't realise you've been caught until it's too late. A fly does not realise the predicament it has got itself into until it sees the spider coming.

Neil did not realise how close he'd got with everyone until it was too late and Nathan came for vengeance.

Nathan is just one side of Neil's fear of The Web. It's the one thing he's been Aware of for all those years. The Moriyamas' are the other side, and he did not see those coming until it was too late.

The Moriyamas', I think, are the true Spider in Neil's story. They have been watching for a very long time, but it wasn't until Neil got caught, struggling and screaming in their Web, that Ichirou came crawling down to see to its problem.

Neil gets out (some-fucking-how), but he knows that the Spider is only up the Web, waiting for his next slip-up.

Which I think is how Neil's fear can also be The Eye. Until Ichirou, his fear is being Known and Seen, and when Ichirou comes along, it's the fear of Always Being Watched. There's a bunch of fics out there of Neil getting injured on caught and think "But what about Ichirou?"

But I still think Neil's fear is The Web through and through.

neil josten's fear is The Web

andrew minyard's fear is also The Web

[whumpfish]

I'm really gonna need people to let me, a person with chronic pain, write about that pain and label it what it is (chronic pain) without jumping my ass telling me it's "your" tag for "your" community.

It's my community, too. I'm allowed to write about it.

This hostility to the just the idea of fiction being anywhere near chronic pain spaces is so self-destructive and just perpetuates already painful isolation. I would have loved to find Word of Honor posts tagged "chronic pain," it would have led me to the series (whose main character has chronic pain! finally, rep that isn't some asshole doctor with a show about what an asshole he is) a lot sooner.

Here's the thing about this blog and the reference posts I make:

Whump saved my life.

This is not an exaggeration. It was the only place I could talk about pain where it would be not only not taboo, but appreciated. When my ME/CFS hit critical mass, I was more alone and powerless than I'd ever been in my life. I had lost my job, my "friends," my apartment, my independence, my health. Everything. I was devastated. I couldn't even write anymore. Everything was pain. That was the lens I now had to view life through, and in the able world, talking about pain is impolite and burdensome to others. So my existence became impolite and burdensome to others.

But then I found the whump community. I could write about pain and it wasn't weird. People didn't leave when I talked about pain, they were interested. They had questions. They wanted to improve their understanding of it. They wanted to improve how they represented it in their own writing. So I started making reference posts.

Now my pain was useful. It was positive. It connected me to others instead of cutting me off from them. Not all of these others have chronic pain or even disabilities, but I refuse to push away people just because they aren't like me. I literally have to live in a world where I'm on the receiving end of that every day, why would I continue it online?

If all my posts about chronic pain are meant only for those who also have it, what good have I done? We all know what pain is like. We all agree it's isolating, we agree isolation feels terrible, so why defend that isolation with both barrels?

Why attack anyone who unites real experiences with better fictional representation of those experiences and assume the person talking is an abled idiot who's in it for the "blorbos?" (I hate that word, by the way. Am I allowed back into my own community yet?) That's what's insulting. The idea that writing about my pain and allowing for the possibility that others might connect to me through both their writing and mine makes me no different from an abled person who's never felt a moment of pain in her life.

I have a chronic illness. I have chronic pain. I write about both. And I don't owe you an explanation.

Block me if you don't like it. But don't jump my ass about "your" community like it's not mine, too. Don't jump my ass about "the" community/tag as if writing about it means I have to turn in my disabled badge.

[nameless-jamie]

hi babes i was wondering if you could write a jamie x reader and she is rebecca’s longtime pa even though she’s in her early twenties and she is really ambitious and hardworking but also incredibly sweet and everyone in the club loves her, even roy and especially rebecca who is very protective over her. so jamie has always appreciated how nice she is to him even when he was a prick and he starts to like her but he’s to afraid to ask her out because he thinks he doesn’t deserve someone like her but his teammates and becca and keeley set them up somehow 🫶🏻 it’s totally okay if you ignore this, i just want to say that i love your writing sm and i hope you’re having a great day/night ❤️

The Setup

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! Rebecca's assistant reader

TW: cursing, kissing

A/N: Another rather long one! Thank you so much for your request and all the nice words!!!!!!!! I hope this does your idea justice. I wanted to try something new and added a clumsy/awkward Jamie vibe.

Jamie Tartt was known for his swagger. He was a confident footballer, a guy who walked into a room with the sort of energy that made heads turn.

It is safe to say Jamie Tartt had been called many things in his life—cocky, talented, a pain in the arse—but one thing he had never been called? Awkward.

At least, not until Y/N entered his life.

Y/N was sweet, hardworking, and ambitious—everything Jamie wasn’t sure he deserved. And it was that thought that sent him spiraling into awkwardness every time they crossed paths.

She was Rebecca’s longtime personal assistant, and despite being in her early twenties, she was the most competent person Jamie had ever met. She kept the club running smoothly, could handle an entire boardroom full of old men with nothing but a sharp look, and somehow still managed to be the sweetest person alive.

It wasn’t like Jamie could help it. There was just something about her—how she smiled at him, how she was always so kind, even when he acted like a total arse. And it was clear to everyone around him: Jamie Tartt had a massive crush on Rebecca’s personal assistant.

The first person to notice, oddly enough, was Roy. And he thought that Jamie's behavior was some sort of joke.

Jamie? The guy who never had a problem with women? Awkward around one?

Roy was in Y/N's office at the time, to go through some schedules, when he witnessed Jamie's awkwardness around the assistant for the first time.

"Morning, Y/N," Jamie greeted, practically tripping over the carpeted floor as he walked into her office. He straightened up and gave a goofy grin, hoping she didn’t notice. Of course, she did.

"Morning, Jamie," she smiled softly, hiding her amusement. She had been working with him for months, and while she liked him a lot, she couldn’t help but chuckle at how he turned into a nervous wreck whenever she was around.

Jamie tried to act cool, leaning casually against the doorframe. "You, uh, need anything? I’m good at, like, you know, organizing things. Keeping stuff on track n'all that."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Are you offering to help me organize the team’s calendar, Jamie Tartt?"

He stiffened, eyes wide. "I... well... uh, no. I mean, I could. I don’t know if I’m the best for that." He scratched the back of his neck, then, trying to recover, added, "But I’m really good at... um... I can, like, open doors for you? Like, literal doors. Not metaphorical ones."

Y/N couldn’t hold back a laugh, and she bit her lip, trying to suppress it. "Thanks, Jamie. I’ll keep that in mind."

Roy thought he'd lost his fucking mind. Jamie Tartt acting like...like Bambi trying to walk on ice. Like he's never talked to a girl before.

Unbeknownst to them, the whole club had noticed Jamie’s odd behavior around her. Rebecca, being the sharp-eyed smart woman that she is, had already picked up on his ridiculous attempts to impress Y/N.

How could she not. Rebecca's and Y/N's offices are conjoined and share one hallway. It wasn't hard to notice a certain Jamie Tartt lingering there, for unusual amounts of times.

"Hi Y/N, what are ya up to?— No that's sounds dumb." Jamie scratched his head walking the hallway to Y/N office up and down "Hi Y/N would you like to 'ave lunch— Fuuuck, no, no, no."

Rebecca sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose while finally daring to walk out of her office door. Yup. She heard all that, and not for the first time this week.

"You know, she's not here Jamie" She tapped him on the shoulder scaring him out of his head-space. "She's on lunch break, probably eating in the stands again."

Jamie's head turned so fast, he could've broken his neck "The stands, yeah?"

"Exactly."

And with that, he ran off...you guessed it, to the stands to catch a certain girl...

Keeley was a little late to notice the whole ordeal, but she did. She thought it was just normal Jamie behavior at first, maybe a new flirting technique. They were walking along the hallways of AFC Richmond. Jamie and Keleey. Just talking about some Instagram posts he had to make for a new sponsor when Jamie suddenly spotted Y/N.

“Hey, Y/N!” Jamie called out too loudly, his voice squeaky. He quickly cleared his throat. “Uh, hey, Y/N... uh... you doin' anythin' excitin' today?”

Y/N smiled at him, her voice sweet as always. “Just the usual. A few meetings and some scheduling updates. Nothing too exciting, I’m afraid.”

Jamie, who had been preparing himself for this moment all day, suddenly didn’t know what to do with his hands. They started fidgeting, one hand tugging at his shirt, the other scratching his neck in a way that looked like a nervous tic.

“Right... uh, right. Cool, cool,” he stammered. He attempted to take a step back but forgot that Keeley stood right behind him.

"Ow! What the fuck Jamie. These are Prada, for fuck sake. Since when are you so clumsy?" Keeley held her foot in pain. The same foot Jamie just trampled over.

"Fuck. Shit, I'm sorry, Keeley. I was just distracted." He looked up again, but Y/N had already vanished down the hallway.

"Distracted? Jamie, you're a goner for her!" Keeley mused. "Babes, you’ve got to stop acting like a kid around her. Just talk to her. Be real. She likes you."

Jamie, a nervous wreck, tried to sound casual. “Yeah, yeah, I will. But, uh, what do I even say?”

“Say anything, just don’t trip over my feet again!”

The team was the last and most excited to learn of Jamie's crush. His awkwardness had proper teasing potential.

Jamie just couldn’t act normal around her. At all.

"Morning, Jamie!" Y/N greeted him cheerfully as she passed by his locker, holding a stack of files for Rebecca.

Jamie, who had just taken a sip of his protein shake, choked immediately. He coughed violently, slapping his chest, while the rest of the locker room watched in horrified amusement.

"You alright, mate?" Sam asked, trying (and failing) to hold back a grin.

Jamie wheezed. "Yeah. Yeah, all good. Just… air. Wrong pipe."

Y/N giggled. "Well, try not to die. Rebecca needs me in a meeting, but I’ll see you later!"

Jamie just nodded, speechless, as she walked away. Then, as soon as she was out of sight, he let out a dramatic sigh and slumped forward.

The entire team erupted in laughter.

"You’re pathetic," Colin said, shaking his head.

Keeley, who had been standing by the door of the locker room that same morning, smirked. She was reporting everything back to Rebecca immediately. "Oh my God. He’s so into her. He looked like he was malfunctioning"

Rebecca, arms crossed, studied Keeley with an amused expression.

"Yeah, and the funniest part? She’s just as clueless," Keeley said, nudging Rebecca. "Y/N’s way too sweet to think Jamie Tartt of all people could have a crush on her."

"Well, he does," Rebecca hummed, watching her assistant Y/N work at her own desk, from their connecting office door.

"We have to set them up," Keeley whispered excitedly.

"Do you really think that is a good idea? He is Jamie Tartt. He brought two dates to the last fucking charity gala because he couldn't decide between them. Keeley Y/N's like a daughter to me, if he—"

Keeley sighed. "Wow, Rebecca, clipping Amor's wings with a machete... They are in love with each other and it is so obvious. Jamie isn't the same guy he used to be. He tripped over my fucking foot because of her, he's stuttering in front of her and all that stuff. I promise you, Rebecca, she will be damn happy with this Jamie!"

Rebecca thought about that for a moment. Y/N really was talking a lot about Jamie. She's never talked about Sam or Dani or any other equally good-looking player like that. And Y/N has been single for quite a while.

"Shit, ok. What's the plan?"

A few days later...

“There’s a light out in the boot room,” Roy grunted at Jamie one afternoon after training. Yup, Roy was in on the plan too...

Jamie raised a skeptical brow. “And what does that have to do with me?”

“Will is uh...like scared of the dark or some shit so he can't fix it,” Roy chimed in as if it was common knowledge.

“And why can't you do it then?” Jamie said dryly.

Roy grumbled at what he was about to say, just for this fucking setup. “Because I'm too fucking old, my knee and stuff.”

Jamie squinted at him and grinned a little. Haha, grandad just admitted he's old. “Ok and why do I have to do it now?”

“Because I said so,” Roy growled, crossing his arms.

Jamie looked between Roy and the boot room, clearly unconvinced. He opened his mouth to protest, but Roy leaned in just slightly, his glare enough to shut Jamie up.

“…Fine,” Jamie muttered. “But if I die of an electric shock or some shit, I’m hauntin’ you first, Roy.”

Meanwhile, on the other side of the building, Rebecca casually turned to Y/N.

“Darling, the boot room needs a lightbulb change,” she said smoothly. “Would you be a dear and handle it?”

Y/N blinked. “Me?”

Rebecca smiled. “I’d do it myself, but I have a meeting with Higgins. And I’d rather not ask anyone else.”

“Oh! Of course,” Y/N said, ever eager to be helpful.

And with that, the plan was set.

Jamie walked into the dimly lit room, squinting in the near-darkness. “Right, let’s get this over with…”

Then he turned and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Y/N entering from the other side.

“Shit!” Jamie exclaimed. “What’re you doin’ here?”

Y/N frowned. “Rebecca asked me to change the lightbulb. What are you doing here?”

“Roy told me to do it,” Jamie said suspiciously. Then realization dawned on him. “Oh, those sneaky bastards.”

Before Y/N could ask what he meant, the door behind them suddenly shut.

And locked.

Y/N gasped. “Wait—what?”

Jamie rushed to the door, jiggling the handle. “No, no, no—oh, you pricks!” he called through the door.

A muffled voice—Keeley—responded cheerfully, “You’re welcome!”

Jamie groaned and rested his forehead against the door. “I can’t believe this.”

Y/N, still processing, turned in a slow circle and then gasped again when she spotted something on the small bench in the center of the room.

A neatly arranged picnic-style setup—complete with wine, glasses, and a plate of sandwiches.

Y/N turned back to Jamie. “…Are we being set up?”

Jamie sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, I think we are.”

Silence fell between them.

Then Jamie huffed out a laugh and turned to face her. “Well. Guess we’re stuck here for a bit.”

Y/N bit her lip, shifting on her feet. “I suppose so.”

Jamie studied her for a moment, and then, with a small smirk, he gestured to the bench. “Wine?”

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head but accepting the glass he handed her. They sat down, the tension easing as they started talking—real talking, not just the usual pleasantries exchanged at work. No awkward stuttering, no stumbling, just talking.

Jamie told her about his journey back to Richmond, about his mistakes, about how he was trying to be better. Y/N listened, genuinely interested, and in turn, shared her own stories—how she ended up working for Rebecca, how much she loved the team, how she sometimes felt like she didn’t quite belong in such a chaotic environment.

Jamie, without hesitation, told her she absolutely belonged.

One glass of wine turned into two. Conversations turned into laughter.

And then, at some point, the air between them shifted.

Y/N realized how close they were sitting, how Jamie’s arm had ended up draped along the back of the bench they had migrated to. His knee brushed against hers, and neither of them moved away.

Jamie looked at her, really looked at her. “Y’know,” he murmured, voice softer now, “I think I’ve liked you for ages.”

Y/N’s breath hitched. “You… do?”

Jamie let out a small chuckle. “Yeah. ‘Course I do. You’re smart, and funny, and you’re always nice to me—even when I was a right dickhead.” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Didn’t think I deserved you, though. And I kind of lose me rizz as soon as I see ya, so I could never make proper move.”

Y/N swallowed, heart pounding. “Jamie…”

He turned to her, eyes filled with something she couldn’t quite name. And before she lost the courage, she leaned in—just slightly.

Jamie noticed. His lips curled into a slow grin. “You makin’ a move on me now, love?”

Y/N’s face went warm. “Maybe.”

Jamie hummed, clearly pleased. “About time someone did that.”

And then he kissed her.

It started slow, tentative—but the moment she kissed him back, Jamie deepened it, his hand coming up to cradle her cheek. Y/N melted into it, her fingers grasping at his shirt as he pulled her closer.

Neither of them noticed the click of the lock or the way the door cracked open slightly.

Nor did they hear Rebecca, Keeley, and Roy quietly high-fiving on the other side.

[waywardlampcookieturkey]

The one thing I still haven't seen anyone talking about when mentioning Xie Lian's gigantic statue that Hua Cheng carved when he was inside the kiln is that... Well, He Xuan also went into the kiln... years after Hua Cheng came out I'm pretty sure... Do you see where I'm going with this????

[heartorbit]

a mob of emus for an artstyle game on twt! ^_^