#if it’s none of those why are you even bothering

[thedemoninme141]

The Maiden Of Death Part 2

Summary: You finally needed Wednesday for something and she learns some interesting things about you in exchange and yet she wants to know more.

Part 1

Pairings: Wednesday x Female reader. Wordcount: 5.8K-ish Warnings: Nothing Really? I guess roles reversed by Wednesday getting her feelings hurt just a tiny bit so a little angst?

The walk back from the bus station was a quiet one. Even Enid, who could usually fill any void with her endless chatter, seemed reluctant to speak. She kept glancing at you nervously, as though unsure whether to say something or not. Eugene walked close to her, shielding himself behind her as if you were radiating gamma rays.

You didn’t so much as glance back at the others, walking as if you were alone in the world.

Wednesday lagged behind slightly, her dark eyes fixed on you. Questions churned in her mind, but she knew that asking them outright would show her curiosity. And she would never, under any circumstances, let you know how deeply you intrigued her.

Still, the scene from earlier refused to leave her mind. The way you had dismantled those boys, it wasn’t just violence. It was precision, efficiency, calculated as if you had done this hundreds of times before.

But what stuck out the most was what she didn’t see. You hadn’t conjured any weapons. You hadn’t used whatever strange ability had allowed you to summon a parrying knife in the library.

Why?

The question burned at the edges of her thoughts. She tried to dismiss it at first, reasoning that it was none of her concern. But the more she tried to push it away, the more it consumed her. If you could summon a weapon in an instant, why bother with a bat and a chain? Why risk getting your hands dirty when you didn’t have to?

Without realizing it, she had quickened her pace and was now walking beside you. Your focus was still straight ahead as if you knew Wednesday is going to ask something.

The quiet stretched between you two, until Wednesday broke it.

“Why didn’t you just conjure a weapon?”

The question was direct, delivered with her usual bluntness.

You didn’t respond. You didn’t even glance her way.

Wednesday’s irritation flared. “It would have been faster. Cleaner. More effective.”

Still, you said nothing.

Enid and Eugene exchanged worried glances behind you. They really don't want to be caught between crossfire.

“Are you going to ignore me?” Wednesday pressed.

You finally stopped walking. Turning slightly, you met her gaze with a calmness that bordered on unsettling. For a moment, Wednesday thought you might ignore her again. But then, in a voice devoid of emotion, you said, “I can conjure weapons that I’ve… earned. Weapons that have accepted me. All of them are lethal.”

You didn’t elaborate. You didn’t explain. You simply turned and continued walking, leaving her standing there with more questions than answers.

Wednesday followed in silence, her mind racing. What did you mean by “earned”? And what exactly did a weapon have to do to “accept” someone?

She wanted to push further, to demand an explanation, but she stopped herself. It wasn’t hesitation, she told herself. It was strategy. She would learn the truth eventually, there was no need to rush.

But as she watched you walking ahead, your shoulders relaxed, your posture indifferent, Wednesday couldn’t shake the feeling that you were hiding something. Something deeper. Darker.

You were a puzzle, and Wednesday Addams would solve you.

No one exchanged a word until the four of you reached the main building. You walked away from the group without so much as a glance back. No goodbye, no acknowledgment of the people who had trailed after you all day.

Enid watched you go, a small frown tugging at her lips. “She could’ve at least said bye,” Enid sighed and nudged Wednesday. “C’mon, let’s go. I’m exhausted, and you’ve probably got some brooding to do or whatever.”

They walked in silence back to their shared dorm room. Enid occasionally glanced at Wednesday, her lips twitching as if she wanted to say something but thought better of it.

When they finally reached their room, Enid flopped onto her bed with a dramatic groan.

“I don’t even know where to start,” she said, stretching her arms above her head. “Y/N is just… wow. She’s like… you but not you. Does that make sense?”

Wednesday didn’t respond. She was already at her desk, pulling out a book and flipping it open. But despite her best efforts, the words on the page blurred together, her focus slipping.

“She’s so quiet,” Enid continued, propping herself up on her elbows. “Like, quieter than you, and I didn’t think that was possible."

Wednesday’s fingers tightened around the edge of her book.

“Did you see how she looked at those guys? Like they were… I don’t know, bugs or something. And then wham! Down they went. I mean, I get it, they deserved it, but still.”

“She handled it,” Wednesday said finally, her voice flat.

Enid rolled her eyes. “Yeah, she handled it, but it was… intense. And you don’t think I didn’t notice you staring the whole time."

“I wasn’t staring,” Wednesday snapped, her tone defensive.

Enid smirked, sitting up fully now. “Oh, you were staring. I don’t blame you, though. She’s… interesting. In a creepy, mysterious way. I mean, you two could totally be related or something. Have you asked your parents if you lost a twin or something?"

Wednesday ignored her, her eyes fixed on the pages of her book, though she hadn’t absorbed a single word.

The truth was, Enid wasn’t entirely wrong. You were interesting, irritatingly so. You were like a distorted mirror image of her, similar in some ways but fundamentally different in others. The quiet, the detachment, the sharpness, it all felt too familiar and yet so different.

As the night wore on, Enid sat cross-legged on her bed with her laptop, scrolling through social media and occasionally humming under her breath. Wednesday remained at her desk, engrossed in her book, though her thoughts strayed far from the text.

“Huh,” Enid said suddenly, breaking the silence.

“What?” Wednesday asked without looking up.

“Of course Y/N doesn’t have anything social. Can’t find her anywhere.” Enid frowned at her screen, scrolling furiously. “No Instagram, no Snapchat. It’s like she doesn’t exist. Does she even have a phone?”

“Maybe she doesn't want to be a slave to modern technology either,” Wednesday said coolly, though the revelation piqued her interest. "And why are you so concerned with finding her online?”

“Why are you so concerned with finding her online?” “Because I wanted to write a blog post about her!!!” Enid said, her eyes wide with excitement. “And, don’t you want to know more about her? Where she’s from? Why she’s here? What her deal is?”

Of course Wednesday wanted to know. She just wasn’t about to admit that to Enid.

Instead, she closed her book with a deliberate snap and said, “If she wanted us to know, she would have told us.”

“Or maybe she’s waiting for someone to ask her,” Enid countered.

Wednesday didn’t reply. For a moment, she let herself imagine what it would be like to ask you. How she would ask you. The thought annoyed her. She wasn’t supposed to care about such things. And yet, here she was, her mind tangled up in questions about you, questions she didn’t know how to ask, questions she wasn’t even sure you’d answer.

The calculated knocks startled neither of them, it was gentle but deliberate, three slow raps against the wood. Enid glanced up first. “Uh, I'll go get it.”

She hopped up and padded to the door, opening it cautiously. Her eyes widened when she saw you standing there, hands tucked into the pockets of your black hoodie.

“Is Wednesday here?” you asked.

Enid blinked, clearly surprised, before nodding and stepping aside, opening the door wider. Wednesday finally turned in her seat, and there you stood… you didn’t step in.

Wednesday’s dark eyes narrowed, reading your body language in an instant. You wanted to speak to her, but not here, not with Enid present. She closed her book before standing and as she passed Enid, she motioned with a small, firm gesture for her roommate to stay inside and close the door.

She stepped out into the hall, brushing past you with just enough space to show her own sense of control. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t even seem fazed as Enid let out a defeated sigh and shut the door behind them.

The hall was empty, silent. You didn’t waste time. “There’s another library in Nevermore.” It wasn’t a question. “Where is it?”

The Nightshade Library. Hidden deep within Nevermore, its entrance disguised behind one of the worst puzzles she has ever solved, "Snap twice", Couldn't they make it a bit more challenging?

“Why do you think I would know where it is?” she asked, her tone carefully neutral.

You tilted your head slightly, as if evaluating her. “Because if anyone knows, it’s you.”

The faintest flicker of satisfaction crossed Wednesday’s face. She liked being recognized for her intellect, especially by you.... wait what?

“And if I did know?” she countered. “Why would I share that information with you?”

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you leaned against the wall, your dark eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made her feel, for the first time in a long while, as if someone were looking through her rather than at her.

“What do you want?” you asked finally, your voice low and measured.

Wednesday hesitated. She could deny her curiosity, feign disinterest, but she knew you would see through it. So she decided on honesty, or at least a version of it.

“I’ve solved enough mysteries to recognize one when I see it,” she said, her tone steady. “And you, Y/n, are a mystery. You’re here for something. At first, I suspected it was something sinister, but…” Her lips twitched ever so slightly, not quite a smile. “Your actions at the shop earlier today disproved that theory. Not that I’m impressed or anything.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, to Wednesday’s surprise, your lips curved into a faint smirk.

“One good deed doesn’t fix a thousand sins, Wednesday,” you said.

It was the first time she had seen you smirk, and something about it unsettled her. It wasn’t the smirk itself, it was the fact that it felt… earned. As if it was meant for her and her alone.

And it lingered only for a sceond before fading.

“I’ll make you a deal,” you said. “I’ll tell you about me. Not everything, but enough to satisfy your curiosity. How much depends on how much you help me get what I need.”

Wednesday’s brows knitted together, her mind working rapidly to process your words. This was a gamble, a game of secrets and trust or lack thereof. And yet, she found herself intrigued.

“Very well,” she said finally. “But don’t think for a moment that I’ll be satisfied with scraps. If I’m helping you, I’ll expect substance, not crumbs.”

You didn’t respond, but something in your gaze shifted, a silent acknowledgment of her terms. Without another word, you turned and began walking down the hall.

Wednesday followed, her steps light and deliberate, her mind churning with questions. What were you looking for in the Nightshade Library? Why were you so guarded? And why... why did she feel something seeing your smirk?

The statue of Edgar Allan Poe was just ahead as the two of you stopped.

Wednesday stepped forward, she glanced at you, her dark eyes daring you to comment. You remained expressionless, giving her nothing, as always.

She snapped her fingers twice.

The faint clicking of mechanisms echoed, and the statue shifted. Its heavy base slid back, revealing a dark staircase spiraling downward.

Neither of you spoke as you made your way down the stairs.

Once at the center of the library, Wednesday turned to face you. “What are you looking for?”

“That’s not part of the deal.” You said as your eyes were scanning the shelves, skipping over rows of books as though you instinctively knew what you sought. She internally sighed for even offering to help.

It didn’t take long. Your gaze landed on a dusty, leather-bound tome nestled deep in the recesses of a high shelf. The book was thick and worn, and it was tightly bound by some sort of green metallic wires. It was dusty, untouched for ages like most of the books here.

As you reached for it, Wednesday approached, her curiosity clearly piqued. She peered over your shoulder as you pulled the book free, revealing its cracked and worn leather cover etched with strange, arcane symbols. You carried it to a nearby table and set it down carefully, your fingers brushing away the layers of dust.

“What is it?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

Before you could answer or more likely refuse to answer, a faint sound from behind you drew your attention.

Without hesitation, you conjured a katana in one fluid motion. You spun on your heel, the blade slicing through the air, and lunged.

The blade sang through the air as you moved with precision, grabbing the intruder and shoving him against the bookshelves. Xavier’s mask clattered to the ground as he struggled against your grip, your blade pressed firmly against his throat.

“Wait, wait, wait! Stop! Whoa! Whoa!” Xavier stammered, his wide eyes darting between the blade and your impassive face.

Wednesday smirked, crossing her arms as she observed the scene. “You shouldn’t have stopped,” she mocked dryly. “Xavier could use an upgrade. He might finally get the touch he needs so much! Getting rid of his face.”

Xavier shot her a panicked glance. “Not helping, Wednesday!”

One by one, they all came out, the members of nightshade society—Bianca, Ajax, Yoko, Kent and Divina.

“You can’t just bring whoever you want down here,��� Bianca snapped. “This place is supposed to be a secret.”

Wednesday rolled her eyes, her smirk deepening. “Clearly, it’s not much of a secret if you’re the ones guarding it.”

Bianca shot her a warning look before turning her gaze to you. “You don’t belong here,” Bianca said, her voice cold. “And in case you didn’t know, Ajax can stone you, and Yoko is faster than you’ll ever be. So I’d think twice before trying anything.”

You didn’t even flinch. Instead, you tilted your head slightly and replied in an even, calm tone, “Do you want to try?”

The group exchanged uncertain glances. Wednesday noted the faint flicker of fear in their eyes, a reaction she found... satisfying.

Yoko stepped forward, chuckling softly. “I’m not faster than you. Don’t mind Bianca; she’s still feisty from getting beaten by you in fencing.” She shot a playful look at Bianca, who scowled in response. Yoko’s grin awkwardly widened as she pulled Bianca back, making way for you.

“By the way,” Yoko added, glancing at Xavier, who was still pinned to the bookshelf, “can I make a tiny request? Not really important, but maybe let go of him before he has a heart attack?”

Your gaze shifted to Xavier, the look in your eyes promising, If you try that again, I won’t stop my sword next time. Slowly, you pulled the blade back as it vanished into the air as you unconjured it.

Without sparing another glance at the group, you reached for the book, tucking it under your arm as you turned to leave.

Wednesday followed, pausing only to glance over her shoulder at the stunned group. “I’d say it was nice catching up, but I’d be lying.”

You didn’t speak as Wednesday walked behind you. She didn’t expect you to. But the weight of unanswered questions was pressing on her. Finally, she broke it.

“What’s in the book?” she asked,

“Information,” you replied simply.

She frowned slightly, pressing further. “Information about what?”

“Not me.”

The two words were curt, but their meaning was clear. Wednesday’s mind immediately clicked back to the terms of your deal. She had taken you to the Nightshade Library, and in return, you had promised to answer her questions about yourself. But this book wasn’t part of that exchange. It was something else entirely.

“Fine,” Wednesday said “Now it’s my part of the deal. I ask you questions about yourself, and you answer truthfully. Do not attempt to lie. I can tell the difference.”

Finally, you stopped and turned. There was something unreadable in your expression—calm, detached, as always, but then it shifted. Slowly, deliberately, your lips curled into the faintest smirk. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but Wednesday caught it.

That smirk.

She hadn’t seen any emotion on your face Enid had tried to engage you, when the Nightshade Society had surrounded you with suspicion and hostility. She had only seen it when it was only you and her, it was there, just for her.

It was... unsettling.

Before Wednesday could dwell on it, your voice pulled her from her thoughts. “Ask your questions and be done with it.”

Wednesday’s fingers twitched behind her back as her mind raced through the countless questions she wanted to ask. But she knew she had to start somewhere.

“Why are you really here?”

You raised an eyebrow.

"What did you do at your last school to get transferred here, or did you come willingly?” she elaborated.

“I came willingly,” you said without hesitation, your voice calm, as if the answer was obvious.

“Why?” she pressed.

“I had work.”

“Work?”

“Demon hunting.”

It was so matter-of-fact, so devoid of emotion, that Wednesday was momentarily speechless. She blinked, half-expecting that smirk to return, telling her it was sarcasm. But you didn’t. Your face remained neutral, your posture relaxed yet guarded, as if you had just told her something as mundane as the weather forecast.

“What… what does that mean?” she asked, her voice quieter but no less intense.

“It means exactly what it sounds like,” you said evenly. “I get hired to hunt demons. My father trained me.”

The words landed with an almost tangible weight. Wednesday prided herself on her composure, but even she found it difficult to mask the intrigue and unease bubbling inside her.

Her mind raced. Demon hunting? It sounded absurdly dangerous, but the calmness with which you spoke of it suggested otherwise. Still, she found herself grappling with the idea of someone her age taking on such a task.

“How old are you?” she blurted before she could stop herself. She instantly hated how curious she sounded, but the question lingered nonetheless.

You rolled your eyes, the closest thing to irritation she’d seen from you. “I age normally. I’m your age.”

It was such a simple answer, but it left her with more questions than before. Why would someone your age be hunting demons? Why would your father send you to Nevermore now? And more importantly, why did you move through the world with such deadly precision, like you were always preparing for the next fight?

“Why do you hunt demons?” she asked, her voice softer now, almost hesitant.

You didn’t answer immediately. For a moment, you simply looked at her, your expression unreadable. Then, finally, you said, “I think the questions you’ve asked are enough payment for your assistance.”

It wasn’t a refusal, but it was a wall, just like the one's she has built around herself. You weren’t going to answer. Not now. And yet, the way you avoided the question only made her more determined to uncover the truth. Wednesday wasn’t used to being denied, and she found the challenge you presented both infuriating and... intriguing.

She followed you silently as you began walking again, her gaze flicking to the book in your hands.

“Demons,” she finally said, her voice slicing through the quiet. “What are they exactly? Giant monsters? Beasts with claws and fangs? Creatures of folktales?”

You didn’t answer as if her words had evaporated into the night air.

The lack of response was infuriating and Wednesday wasn’t even surprised. She had expected resistance. Still, she persisted. “You claim to hunt them. Surely you can describe what it is you face. Or do you find it amusing to leave me in ignorance?”

Again, you didn’t respond, and Wednesday’s jaw tightened. Her dark eyes flicked to the book you held, its worn cover and metallic bindings catching the faint light. Now the book intrigued her just as much as you did.

Her mind raced with possibilities. She couldn’t simply take the book from you; you would sense her intent before she could act.

Dispatching Thing to steal it was out of the question as well. She could already envision the outcome: you sensing Thing’s presence, catching him mid-act, and possibly doing something drastic. The way you had nearly sliced Xavier’s throat in the blink of an eye without any hesitation just for sneaking up on you... No, she couldn’t risk Thing. She would need another way to learn more.

Her voice cut through the silence again. “Your swordsmanship, was that something your father taught you?”

This time, you slowed your steps, just enough for her to notice. For a fleeting moment, something flickered in your eyes, an emotion she couldn’t quite place.

“No,” you said simply. “I figured that out.”

Wednesday’s brows knitted together in disbelief. “You figured that out?” she repeated, her tone laced with skepticism. “No one simply ‘figures out’ swordsmanship. It takes years of training, discipline—”

You interrupted her “I figured it out,” you repeated, leaving no room for argument.

Frustration simmered beneath Wednesday’s composed exterior. Your cryptic responses were as infuriating as they were intriguing. She couldn’t fathom how someone could master a skill like that without instruction. But then, nothing about you followed conventional logic.

The two of you reached the steps to Ophelia Hall, for a moment, it seemed the conversation was over, but Wednesday’s curiosity refused to let her remain silent.

When the hallway to her dorm came into view, her frustration boiled into something she rarely allowed herself to feel: desperation. You had what you wanted now. There was no more reason for you to seek her out, no leverage she could use to force you into another exchange.

This was it.

For the first time, Wednesday Addams felt the sting of helplessness. And she hated it.

As you turned to leave, something in her snapped. “Wait.”

You paused, glancing over your shoulder. “What?”

Her mind scrambled for something, anything to keep the conversation from ending. The words tumbled out before she could stop them. “Show me.”

“Show you what?”

“The way you beat me,” she clarified, her tone sharpening as if to mask the vulnerability behind her request. “During our last fencing match.”

You turned fully now, facing her.

She continued, her voice cool and measured. “I know how to handle a rapier. I’ve studied various forms of swordsmanship. But the technique you used—it's unlike anything I’ve seen. It could prove… useful.”

“Useful?” you repeated, your tone neutral but tinged with curiosity

Wednesday hesitated for a fraction of a second, but she quickly masked it coming up with something. “Yes. I’ve been meaning to put Bianca in her place again. Your technique might be just the thing to humiliate her properly.”

“And what makes you think I’d teach you?”

She rolled her eyes as her tone sharpened. “It’s not a matter of ‘teaching.’ You wouldn’t need to explain. I can observe. All I need is for you to demonstrate. You seem to enjoy a challenge. Consider this one.”

You tilted your head slightly, studying her. The faintest smirk tugged at the corner of your lips, and Wednesday felt her irritation flare. That expression again. She hated how it made her feel—off-balance, as though you were the one dissecting her.

“I’ll think about it,” you said at last.

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. “That wasn’t an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting right now,” you replied.

You turned without another word, continuing down the hall toward your dorm. Wednesday remained rooted to the spot. Her thoughts spiraled, replaying every word, every glance, every flicker of emotion you had allowed her... only her to see.

She had what she wanted, another thread to pull, another opportunity to uncover more about you. But even as she told herself it was all for the sake of satisfying her curiosity, a nagging voice in the back of her mind whispered otherwise.

She ignored it. Or at least, she tried to.

When Wednesday stepped into her room, Enid bolted upright in her bed,

“Wednesday! Oh my god, you’re finally back!” Enid whisper-yelled, her voice a mix of relief and exasperation. She clutched her phone like it was her emotional support animal.

“I was so scared you were out there doing something... you know... Wednesday-ish. And with Y/N? Are you kidding me? I thought for sure I was gonna get a text saying you’d been arrested. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking,” Wednesday finally replied, “that I do not require your approval or your concern.”

Enid huffed, crossing her arms over her pink top, “Well, someone has to worry about you because you clearly don’t!” She paused, “Anyway... how was the date?”

Wednesday froze mid-step as she turned to face Enid. “Excuse me?”

“The date,” Enid said, emphasizing the word with a mischievous grin. “You know, you and Y/N, sneaking off together into the night, exchanging cryptic looks and intense vibes. Classic romance. Sooo... how did it go?”

Wednesday glared at her, the look sharp enough to cut glass. “It wasn’t a date, Enid. It was an interrogation. One that, I might add, yielded frustratingly little information.”

Enid flopped back onto her bed dramatically, groaning. “Ugh, you’re no fun. How can it not be a date? I mean, the two of you are so...” She gestured vaguely, her hands mimicking some kind of explosion. “...tension-y.”

“Tension-y is not a word,” Wednesday deadpanned, moving toward her wardrobe to retrieve her nightclothes. She disappeared behind the changing screen, her voice carrying through. “And whatever you imagine my interactions with Y/N to be, I assure you, they are nothing of the sort. It was just an exchange of information, nothing more.”

“You’re no fun. Fine, it wasn’t a date. But you can’t deny there’s something going on between you two. Totally intense. And you-”

“Enough, Enid,” Wednesday cut her off, climbing into bed. “If you insist on fantasizing about my personal life, at least do so silently. I require rest.”

Enid rolled her eyes but smiled. “Fine, fine. Goodnight, Wens. Sweet dreams of a certain someone.”

Wednesday groaned internally as she closed her eyes, letting the darkness of sleep swallow her. But even as her mind began to drift, she couldn’t help but replay your last words to her: “I’ll think about it.”

Wednesday’s gaze flicked over the students passing by. You should be here, she thought, where are you?

“You’re weirdly quiet this morning,” Enid noted, glancing at Wednesday as they approached their table with breakfast “Not that you’re usually a chatterbox, but still.”

“I was reflecting on the peaceful silence I enjoyed before you began speaking,” Wednesday replied dryly.

Enid rolled her eyes but let it slide. The two of them sat down, Enid immediately reaching for the stack of waffles in front of her.

“So,” Enid began between bites " I was thinking-"

"Truly a groundbreaking moment in history." Wednesday muttered.

“Ha ha,” Enid said sarcastically. “As I was saying, the Poe Cup is coming up, and we need to form a team.”

Wednesday sipped her coffee, unimpressed. “You mean, you need to form a team. I’m not interested.”

“Oh, come on!” Enid said, pouting. “Last year was so much fun, and we actually won! Don’t you want to keep the streak alive?”

“No.”

“Please? Pretty please?” Enid got out her puppy eyes.

Wednesday sighed, setting her cup down with more force than necessary. “Why don’t you find someone else? I have better things to do.”

“Well,” Enid said, fidgeting with her fork, “that’s the thing. One of the girls on our team transferred out after all the drama last year. So... we’re already down a person even if you join.”

“Tragic,” Wednesday said dryly.

"And everyone seems too afraid to participate, no one seems to come up... So I was actually thinking about asking Y/N to join too.”

Wednesday froze. Slowly, she turned to face Enid, her eyes narrowing. “You were planning to ask her?”

“Yeah,” Enid said brightly, oblivious to Wednesday’s sudden tension. “I mean, if she says yes, you and her in the same team? We will have the most unstoppable team in Nevermore history. And if she says no... well, I’ll just have to work extra hard to convince her.”

Wednesday didn’t respond, her mind preoccupied with conflicting thoughts. On the one hand, she had no desire to participate in another Poe Cup. On the other, the idea of you aligning with Enid’s cheerful chaos—and possibly bonding with her—left an unpleasant taste in her mouth.

Finally, Enid broke the silence. “So? Are you in?”

She let out a tired sigh. “Fine. I’ll join your team. But only because your incessant whining is insufferable.”

Enid beamed, clapping her hands together. “Yes! You won’t regret it, Wens. We’re going to crush everyone. And when Y/N joins, it’ll be game over for the competition.”

Wednesday didn’t share Enid’s enthusiasm, but she couldn’t deny a flicker of curiosity. If you agreed to join the team, it would be yet another opportunity to observe you up close, to understand what makes you- you.

“Ready to lose, Addams?” Bianca asked, adjusting her grip.

“I don’t lose. I simply assess flaws in my opponents’ technique until they defeat themselves.”  Wednesday replied, stepping into position.

Strike, parry, lunge—her movements were precise, calculated, and relentless. But even as she focused on the match, her thoughts were elsewhere.

Where are you?

You weren't at breakfast, You hadn’t appeared for fencing class. She told herself it was curiosity, maybe her need for a rematch, nothing more. But the faint pang of disappointment at not seeing you was a feeling she couldn’t entirely suppress.

Bianca’s blade grazed Wednesday’s shoulder, snapping her attention back to the match.

“Distracted today, Addams?” Bianca taunted, taking the advantage to press forward.

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. She wouldn’t allow anyone, least of all Bianca, to expose a moment of weakness. With a swift disengage and a perfectly timed riposte, she scored a touch on Bianca’s chest, earning a point.

“Hardly,” Wednesday replied, her voice icy.

The match ended in her victory, as expected, but it felt hollow. Even as she returned her rapier to its rack and packed away her gear, her mind kept circling back to you.

Alchemy class had started precisely ten minutes ago. Wednesday sat at her station, her notebook open and pen poised, ready to absorb whatever instruction was given. Despite her usual attentiveness, her gaze kept flicking to the door.

It wasn’t until the teacher began explaining the chemical interactions of reagents in transmutation circles then you finally entered.

You walked in as if you owned the room. No apology, no explanation. Your footsteps were measured, calm, as though arriving late was entirely intentional. The other students turned to look, whispering to one another, but you ignored them all. And took the empty seat beside Wednesday.

She waited for you to offer some explanation, but none came.

Finally, she leaned slightly toward you, her voice low enough not to attract attention. “Where were you?”

Without even looking at her, you replied, “I don’t think that’s any of your concern.”

The curt dismissal sent a flicker of irritation through her. She narrowed her eyes, studying your profile.

“Interesting,” Wednesday said, her tone flat but with a razor’s edge. “Your penchant for evasion is almost as impressive as your talent for making enemies.”

“I didn’t realize I was supposed to inform you of my every move. Should I start providing hourly updates?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if it weren’t relevant,” Wednesday countered.

"I fail to see how my schedule has any bearing on your life.” you replied, turning your attention to the potion ingredients laid out in front of you.

Wednesday’s fingers tightened around her pen.

After last night, she had thought they had... progressed, in some way. Not to friendship, she didn’t entertain such trivialities, but to something more than this cold indifference.

Evidently, she was wrong.

She turned her attention back to the professor, though her thoughts remained stubbornly fixed on you.

When class ended, Wednesday packed her things with more force than necessary. You, as usual, seemed unbothered, moving at your own unhurried pace.

She considered leaving without a word, but the thought of you dismissing her again was unbearable.

As the two of you exited the classroom, she matched your stride.

She didn’t speak immediately, her mind grappling with the questions swirling in her head.

Finally, she broke the silence. “About last night.”

“What about it?” you asked, not looking at her.

“I thought we had reached some… understanding,” she said, her tone carefully neutral.

You finally turned to look at her, your eyes sharp and unyielding. “I told you what I’d tell you. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Her jaw tightened. “And the demonstration you promised?”

“I didn’t promise anything,” you said evenly. “I said I’d think about it.”

“And?” she pressed.

“I haven’t had time to think about it,” you replied, your tone dismissive.

“You seemed to have plenty of time last night.” she said.

Your lips quirked slightly, not quite a smirk but close. “You think too highly of yourself if you believe I’ve spent the entire night pondering your request. And now that I do think about it, I don’t see why it matters. You’re not worth wasting my time.”

The words struck Wednesday harder than she expected. She kept her face impassive, but inside, a strange, unfamiliar ache bloomed. Her jaw tightened, her fists clenching at her sides. She hated the way her chest ached, hated the vulnerability that threatened to surface.

But she would never let you see it.

“I see,” Wednesday said finally, her voice icy. “Then perhaps I shouldn’t waste any more of your valuable time.” Without waiting for a response, she quickened her pace, leaving you behind. Behind her, your steps slowed, and she resisted the urge to look back.

Botany class passed in a blur for Wednesday. The usually calming task of handling deadly poisonous plants gave no solace. Her mind churned with your words, replaying them over and over. She hated how much they stung, hated the power you seemed to wield over her thoughts.

And yet, when class ended, you approached her.

“Meet me behind the greenhouse,” you said, your voice low and deliberate. “After the sun falls.”

Before she could respond, you turned and walked away. She hated how you left her with more questions than answers. But despite herself, she knew she would meet you.

[A/n: Tried another new route, in most fics I see that it is the reader character who earns Wednesday's smile, so I thought I should reverse the roles a bit, how did you guys like this one?]

Taglist: @rqizzu @sevyscoven @kingoftheracoons @masterofpuppets-10

[starryjkoo]

will always find it so interesting how army made the "jk is a minimoni anti" joke about him being jealous over namjoon....

https://x.com/jklovesjoon/status/1870891537451950488

Oh my god, that video 😬 just… so corny and unfunny. My thing is, why wouldn’t they just make it a namjikook throuple thing - aren’t ARMYs all about poly-BTS? That’s why the ARMYs who make it about only n*mkook are so transparent to me… 👀

Anyways, imo one of the reasons for this is because there’s actually a lot of HL x JM/JK shippers in this fandom who feel a similar way about Jikook as tkkrs do (just not as extreme lol). Maybe 90% of the fandom are shippers & that also includes a lot of HL x ML shippers who operate like, well, shippers. It doesn’t really matter if they think their ship is real or not, it’s still pretty common to feel jealous/resentful when another “rival” ship is getting all the moments they want for their own ship - especially when a lot of BTS shippers are basically Y/N’s who heavily project onto one member of their ship while being infatuated with the other.

This is pretty common in shipping in general, tons of fictional ships have absolutely batshit insane fanwars so it wouldn’t surprise me if there were lots of non-serious BTS shippers who also got weird and dismissive about Jikook out of the same kind of petty jealousy that tkkrs feel. They don’t even have to be a shipper to feel that way tbh, some people are just really attached to the idea of their faves being the closest (and I’m not saying everyone who ships other pairings that involve JM/JK feel this way, plenty are normal and even like jkk, but there’s definitely a large enough group who are super weird about it…)

I think this is one of the reasons why so many Jikook moments get so heavily OT7-ified compared to other duos. The way that the fandom still refers to JK’s JM live as JK’s "BTS content" live is the biggest example of this to me, it’s actually insane. I remember the way the quotes were just full of people talking about how much JK “missed his hyungs” and how he’s “watching BTS content just like me!”. It felt like none of them even acknowledged that it was a Jimin teasing video either, the whole thing was pretty wild. It's sort of the same situation with AYS and the kinds of clips that would circulate ARMY spaces vs the ones that were noticeably absent.

Like, can you imagine how many ARMYs were probably a little bothered by JK saying that the AYS trips were the best of his life? - literally every brand of JK shipper + the really intense OT7 ARMYs who want to think that they’re only happy as seven and have no individuality outside of being a group, hopefully you know the sort of ARMYs I mean, obviously I know JK loves the group and I’m sure the next BV will be very meaningful.

Anyways, sorry for giving you such a long and serious answer to this lmao 😭 it’s a petty rant and not that big of a deal or anything, but it’s just kind of tiring the way this fandom is constantly downplaying jkks bond, picking it apart and making it about other members. It would be nice if they could just give jkk their flowers and celebrate their moments w/out so much obvious jealousy or whatever. And ofc I don’t care what other people ship or if someone wants to make that whole mini/moni thing about nmkook because they ship it, it’s just annoying that those people will pose as non-biased ARMYs and how all of that has really impacted the whole fandom climate & how jikook are treated/talked about. It’s definitely not the end of the world or anything, but it annoys me enough to rant about every now and then lol.

Also, ofc I know there’s plenty of cool non-jkkr ARMYs who do totally appreciate and hype Jikook!! Maybe even the majority of them are totally normal about it, it’s just that there's enough people who are like this that it’s noticeable and annoying.

I was talking about this with someone the other day but - I’m not sure if you know what a “NOTP” is - I’m pretty sure Jikook make up the majority of NOTPs in the fandom lol.

[starvu]

Crosswords and Cuddles || s. reid

where you and spencer spend some quiet and peaceful time together after he comes home from work

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader (if something doesn't seem right to gn, please let me know)

genre: pure fluff

content warnings: none

word count: 1,8k

a/n: my second fanfiction, we're on the right track!! still sorry for my not so good english, i'm struggling not to repeat myself too much and use different adjectives, but i'm having a bit of trouble with that for now. anyway, i hope it won't bother you too much, have fun :))

You and Spencer loved spending time together and tried to spend as much time together as possible. Even though he spent most of his time working for the BAU on new cases and your job was demanding. That's why after two years of being together, you moved in together so you could share as many small, mundane moments together as possible.

Spending time together, you didn't even have to exchange much conversation. Your mutual presence was enough in most cases. The awareness of each other's warmth and care, a feeling that was clearly felt in the air, even if it was unspoken. You simply loved to accompany him in everything, and he loved having you around.

This evening was no different. Spencer didn't have any demanding cases this time. He could work with the team at Quantico. They didn't have to fly anywhere far, so he could come back to you every evening. You never knew when he would fly out again, so you were always happy when he could be home. Your peace was never certain. They could always have a new, demanding, brutal case that would cause him to disappear to the other side of the country, neglect sleep, drink more coffee than usual, and give no signs of life.

You were lying on the couch in your dark apartment. The apartment smelled of old books and coffee. This was the smell of your home now, it reminded you of the place you returned to and lived in. Your coats hung next to each other on the hangers in the hallway, your shoes were lined up neatly on the shelf, and your mugs were waiting in the kitchen cabinet. Your cup of coffee, which had way too much milk in it, stood on the dark brown, oak coffee table, accompanied by crosswords books, pens and scientific books from many fields from the library.

You two had brought those books by the kilos in canvas bags a few days ago. You couldn't even carry that many books from the library and you just made gooey eyes and a slightly bribing smile at the old lady librarian. This poor old woman, after so many of your visits, was already giving in to you. Spencer even tried to go above and beyond for you and just put some books away, but you fought for them. You were absolutely happy to have them in your bags, sitting on the subway, and riding home. Okay, actually you both were really excited to read all of these books.

You were wrapped in blankets, slightly sleepy the couch, even if the living room was lit with warm, not too bright light from a lamp. You had probably done everything, you had cooked dinner, you had read, you had done crosswords and looked up nonsense on your phone, you had even rearranged the books on the shelf, but not enough to disturb Spencer. You simply couldn't wait for him to finally come home, You yourself came back from work earlier than usual, so you waited a while, and the afternoon without him seemed so long.

As you were slowly dozing off with one eye, you heard the sound of a key turning in the lock of the door. You got up from the couch, still a little sleepy, but your expression brightened when you saw Spencer walking in front of the door. After he quickly hung his brown leather bag and navy coat on the rack and took off his sneakers, he wrapped his arms around your waist and hugged you tightly, resting his chin on the top of your head, feeling at peace after the whole day. He finally breathed a sigh of relief as he felt your closeness and your familiar, calming scent.

"It's good to see you." He mumbled, adding nothing more. That was enough for you to understand how his day had gone. It had gone hard.

You smiled as you rested your head on his chest, you were glad he was finally around. You didn't ask about his day right away, you didn't want him to have to deal with it even at home, in his quiet place.

"It's good to see you too." You said quietly in a sleepy voice.

He recognized your sleepy, tired voice immediately, and he pulled away slightly but still held you close, running his fingers through your hair. “Did you sleep, sleepyhead?” He smiled warmly.

"Uh no, no. I was just waiting for you. Tired after a whole week of work, you know how it is." 

He just nodded slightly in understanding, leaned down slightly and kissed your forehead. “Don’t overwork yourself, please.”

His concern always warmed your heart, you appreciated the care like nothing else, but it also worried you a little. It worried you that he always worried about you more than himself.

"You really shouldn't worry so much, I'm fine, Spence." You always repeated the same words, trying to reassure him and make him not worry so much, focus on something else, something less worrying.

He just sighed quietly in disapproval of your words. He knew perfectly well how you felt about his concern. He also knew that you were strong and could handle yourself perfectly well, and yet he wanted to make sure that everything was okay.

You quickly disappeared into the depths of the apartment, accessible, undemanding conversation, occasional laughter and the sound of forks clinking against plates filled the silence that had previously reigned throughout the apartment, only broken by the ticking of the clock in the living room.

Empty plates sat on the edge of the coffee table, even if it irritated Spencer in some way. Your coffee had long since gone cold, and you fidgeted a bit as you lay together on your completely too-small couch. That was the way you spent your time together without words. You were lying on opposite ends of the couch, buried under blankets, each of you with your own crossword puzzle and pen in hand, although sometimes you just preferred to glance up and watch Spencer concentrate, maybe stare a little. But that wasn't a bad thing, was it? Especially when he seemed oblivious to your actions. Sometimes you would nudge him in the ribs a little with your foot.

You really enjoyed these moments, sometimes when you relied on Spencer's intelligence and wanted to get a hint for your crossword, you had to pay a price for it, in the form of a quick kiss or a peck. You weren't even sure which of you preferred this way of rewarding for a hint more. In truth, Spencer always believed that if you put in the effort, you would find the answers to your questions yourself and that you were capable of more, but he didn't argue with you much. Instead, he would often start blabbing about the topics you asked about, telling you more about them, and you listened devotedly.

This time, however, Spencer noticed that you weren't very active on your crossword puzzle and paused his own for a moment. Well, you were just tired and your brain wasn't working at a very high level anymore.

"Hey, is something wrong, are you okay?" He asked with genuine concern and warmth in his voice. "You seem off."

You shook your head. "No, everything is still fine." But instead of staying on your end of the couch, you put the crosswords and pen on the table and, fidgeting a bit again, turned completely the other way. It's very possible that you'd crushed Spencer's side a bit with your leg in the meantime. Now your head was right on his shoulder, you were lying on the same side. He smiled slightly.

"Oh, you’re really clingy."

You just looked up, giving him a slightly exaggerated, scowl, even if you weren't mad at him for saying it. He raised his hand, letting you rest your head on his chest. He still held the crossword puzzle in one hand, the pen in the other, but he kept making sure you were comfortable. You felt at peace when you felt the warmth of his chest and the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat. He felt the same way when it came to your closeness. He slowed down his pace of solving the puzzle, letting you answer the words you already knew the answer to. 

He usually solved crosswords as fast as he could, beating his previous results, but this time it was about your peace. Even when both of his hands were occupied, he held you close and tight, kissing the top of your head with every clue you knew the answer to. And sometimes with a clue he knew the answer to. You suspected that he was just looking for an excuse to some extent, because he actually kissed the top of your head when you were thinking about the answer, or for no reason at all.

After solving a few more sheets, he put what he was holding on the table. He wrapped his arms around you and you didn't protest in any way, you let him. You knew that sleeping on this couch wasn't good for either of you, your backs and well-being, but everything indicated that this was where you would be sleeping. After a moment, he snuggled up to you even tighter, shifted slightly and put his head in the crook of your neck, placed a few lazy kisses there, drawing patterns on your back with his fingers. At that moment he was more laying on top of you with his whole body, but careful enough not to crush you and put his whole weight on you. With each situation like this you felt like you loved this man even more.

That didn't stop you from teasing him a little, referring to his previous comment. "Who's the clingy one now?" You smirked.

He raised his head slightly, staring at your face, even secretly admiring it, although he remembered every detail it hid, every mole, eyelash and freckle. He wanted to defend himself somehow from your words, but in the end he lowered his head and went back to holding it in the crook of your neck. "Okay, maybe I'm guilty." He admitted, but he didn't loosen his grip around you one bit.

"Yeah, you are."

"Is it bad?"

"No." You even replied a little quieter than usual.

It wasn't a bad thing, you loved his clingy moments. You slowly raised your hand to run your fingers through his messy, slightly overgrown hair. He didn't have to ask for it, you knew it would ease his tiredness after the whole day and he would fall asleep faster without the agony he often had before going to sleep. Somehow you felt his growing calmness and sense of security as you made all these little gestures.

[fuck1ng-queen]

Strawberries and Memories

Noah Sebastian x Reader

Words: 0,7k

Warnings: none, just some fluff for today (maybe a slight insinuation of sex, if you blink you miss)

Author comments: hello, my beautiful people! merry christmas for those who celebrate! i made a poll a few days ago asking about my next content being something fluffy or spicy and you answered fluffy, soooo, here we go <3 don't forget english is not my first language, so mistakes can happen. to join my taglist, please, let me know via ask. i hope you all like it!

Although you knew it was cold, you were naive to think that in the middle of December leaving home early wearing just a thin cold sweater to spend the whole day outside would warm you up enough. You body hurt, your fingers were stiff and your teeth chattered, and although you weren’t that bothered by the cold, it made you miss summer days, specially the last ones, where you and Noah had spent the most incredible afternoons ever under the sun and in the ocean water. You sighed as you remembered that even though you forgot using sunscreen on the last day at the beach, making you both back home burned and sensitive, those days were deliciously unforgettable.

You took your phone off your pocket and walking back to the office after lunch, you typed a few words to your man: 

“babe, I’m missing those days at the beach, remember? just haven’t decided what I miss more… if it’s the heat (i mean, seriously? what was i thinking when i left home today morning with no warm clothes?) or just cuddling up with you without worring about anything else in life.” 

And you couldn’t help smiling as you read the reply:

“Message from Nowah💕: be home asap to cuddle up a little, then i heat you up and we solve both of your problems.” 

(…)

The day had just fallen and you returned home on the subway while thinking about that week at the beach, and how you would give it all up for the heat of that day. Then you unlocked the phone screen and went straight to your photos, looking for a specific one: Noah with his lips in a straw drinking coconut water. That was one of the ones you liked the most, and not only of the trip, but of him himself. His gaze was calm and his face seemed rested as you haven't seen in weeks. You were a little surprised he didn’t answer your last messages. At that time of day he was always online, but you figured he might be busy with something else or still behind the wheel, late to get home. You didn’t mind so much. In fact you just wanted to get home soon, put on some proper clothes, and plant yourself in front of the fireplace until take roots.

Leaving the station, you faced the wet, freezing wind from the street and damn, you could have sworn you could remember times you cut yourself with a kitchen knife or fell off your bike and felt less pain than at that moment. As you walked down the two or three blocks from the station to your house you hummed something to distract yourself, making you think a little less about the shivering under the wrong clothe you had chosen to wear.

When you got home you saw that Noah’s car was at the garage, which was strange because he rarely failed to answer your messages when he was home. Anyway, you grabbed the keys from your pocket, and as you opened the door you felt a strong thermal shock, stronger than you imagined. You went inside, already feeling much better from the temperature, but… Why on earth would Noah leave the air turned on at such that high temperature?

“Baby? I’m home, you in?” you asked, curious to know what he might be up to.

“Yup, babe, kitchen.” You heard his voice answer.

Almost there, you saw him appear at the door, in shorts and barefoot, his hair messy, basically reproducing the picture you had seen earlier, which he knew you liked so much. He was holding a coconut in his hands, with a straw, and smiling, happy to see you. He came up to kiss you, and damn, you loved that feeling when you felt him smile during the kiss. Releasing his lips from yours he looked at you tenderly and pulled you by the hand into the kitchen so that you could see several fruits, all chopped up, just waiting for you. He took the bowl of fruit and said:

“Honey, I just didn’t have time to get the beach, okay? But the cuddling part…” he paused slightly, putting a strawberry in your mouth. “We can work that one out right now.”

Your eyes sparkled and you couldn’t help but giggle and kiss him as you realized what he had done, unable to believe how lucky you were to have Noah by your side, and happy to know that that weekend would probably be as precious in your memories as the last hot summer days.

.

.

masterlist | taglist: @lacy1986 @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard

[rustedleopard]

(gaymeatcore) how aware do you think other characters were of Chujins treatment of his family? like ceroba sort of covers it up but do you think Starlo for example could tell him hiding so much was bothering her? That she felt a bit unloved? I think if he did he'd be so hyped for her if they divorced like he doesn't even mind if he's not the one who gets to be her new partner so long as she gets someone who loves her like she deserves. I just want to see her get what she deserved why would he do all that why did he not trust and adore her....Her unhealthy devotion is just so sad because she gets barely anything in return. like sure he gives her some stuff (most of it material) but he can't even tell her he loves her on his deathbed....

You may not like my answer, but I'd say that others aren't very aware of how Chujin treats his family.

The thing is, not even Ceroba is aware of how taken advantage of she is. She still follows through with Chujin's plan despite how much she personally doesn't want to go through with it/the amount of stress it's added onto her life. She still sees him as flawless and perfect despite all the evidence otherwise. She was wholly content with the life that she made for herself; she CHOSE to become a housewife and the breadwinner of the family so Chujin can keep doing the things that he wanted to. So it's really hard to tell how bad the familial situation is if the person/people most affected by it aren't even aware of how bad it is. Blind admiration and devotion is one hell of a drug.

The closest I can see Ceroba comes to realizing how bad her situation is (in a canon-conforming way) is her coming home from a very bad shift at Cafe Dune; it's one of those days where your feet hurt and you're in a bad mood and once you lay down, you know you won't want to get back up again, and as she's changing out her work clothes she thinks to herself "I miss when Chujin was working at the Steamworks and I didn't have to do all this." But then Kanako asks what's for dinner or Chujin comes home or something happens and she has to pull herself together because her family needs her and Chujin is doing good things for the Underground, she shouldn't complain. She's strong, she's independent, she's mature, she's capable, she's an adult. She can handle it! So if Ceroba isn't all that aware, I can't see others being aware either.

Plus, the Ketsukanes are already pretty private people: their estate is locked behind an ornate gate, Chujin has his whole "hiding my basement study/SOUL experiments/Axis/the reason why I got fired from the Steamworks from my wife" thing going on, nobody else knows about Kanako's Falling Down besides Starlo and the Feisty Four (though I imagine what happened was that Ceroba told Starlo and Starlo told the Feisty Four instead of her telling all of them at once, and even then none of them knew the specifics), nobody knew about the plans that Ceroba had for Clover until the Five were cleaning out her house. And I can go on. The Ketsukanes have a good reputation among the Dunes residents, you can most directly see that with the rock-monster in Oasis Valley that stands next to the oasis after Clover explores their estate. They call the Ketsukanes something along the lines of "Good folks." So I can't see others being all that aware of the dynamic that's happening behind closed doors.

But let's hone in on a few key characters:

Martlet never even saw Chujin's house, so she wouldn't know much about what's going on in her mentor's domestic life. She calls Ceroba an acquaintance, which means they've likely only really met each other a handful of times. Martlet really admires/looks up to Chujin and sees him as a guiding figure in her life and that image only sours when she sees the tapes. If she knew what his home life was like and all the specifics, that would've changed her perspective on him a lot sooner.

Dina doesn't even know that Kanako fell down, so she wouldn't know anything too personal about Ceroba's life. Chujin also only came by Dina's Saloon once, and that was when he came to drink because he "saw a ghost" so she doesn't know him all that well either.

As I stated earlier with the Feisty Four, I feel like the only reason why they knew that Kanako fell down was because Starlo broke the news to them. They are entitled to know why Ceroba is bunking with them for weeks on end all of a sudden but I can't see Ceroba telling them because she isn't part of the posse. Starlo also probably roped them into helping cheer her up by going along with more of his antics (to a limit, of course).

And Starlo. I don't see Starlo knowing what exactly is happening. He's not going to go snooping around into her life and her circumstances for a myriad of reasons: He is busy running the Wild East. Ceroba seems content with her life so why go looking into her business if everything looks fine on the surface? Whether he got over his feelings or not, it's still weird to look into his (former?) crush's love life. He's the sort to need things spelled out more directly in order to understand what's going on. And I don't think he understands how deeply and unhealthily her devotion to Chujin runs. Sure, he might find it a bit odd that Ceroba is working and taking care of the house and Kanako, but he also knows Ceroba wouldn't take shit from other people. So if she's not complaining about her circumstances then this must be something that she and Chujin worked out together. It's not his business. The least he can do for her is let her unwind whenever she swings by the Wild East and entertain Kanako so she can get a break from what he would probably see as the usual stresses of motherhood (this likely helped Ceroba far more than she realizes). Also, Starlo does have some respect for Chujin despite not liking him as a person. In post-Pacifist, when Ceroba comes out with what happened and what Chujin put her up to, I can see Starlo admonishing himself for not realizing how bad their relationship was sooner and would lose that respect for Chujin (even if Ceroba is still at a point where she sees Chujin as perfect). Hindsight is 20/20 after all.

Now, if Ceroba started to realize how much her life sucks and the cracks showed earlier, of course he'd pull her aside and try to sort out what's going on and see if he can help. He'd support her in any path that she chooses for herself, whether it be couple's counseling (massive doubt) or divorce (yeah, that's what would happen). Starlo isn't a petty person and respects Ceroba so when that divorce inevitably happens, he might be like "You lost your chance with a wonderful person" to Chujin, not "Ha, you lost your wife!!! Lmao, I win!!!" Even if Ceroba chooses to get into a relationship with someone else or doesn't choose anyone at all, what matters most to Starlo is that she's happy.

It's fortunate for Cerojin that Chujin died when he did because if he were still alive, at some point the fuse on the powder keg that was their relationship would've reached its end, and when that happened their relationship would've blown up with the messiest fallout. To everybody else (except those in the know), it would've looked like the lovely and happy couple of Oasis Valley spontaneously fell apart in a matter of days/weeks.

[juniperhillpatient]

creepy vhs style weird old animated horror shorts are the only videos on YouTube that hold any level of interest for me. you start trying to talk to me about your favorite vlogger & I look at you with glossed over empty eyes like a doll

[piko-rose]

My Personal Headcanon On Why Amy's Love For Sonic Died Down Lately (and their dynamic)

When they were younger, Amy's love for Sonic was pretty extreme, and Sonic was, understandable, uncomfortable for the most part. He knows she means well, but that girl needs to calm down.

She can fight, but sometimes her hammer could only stun her enemies for a while. (It took her a long time to get rid of that robot that has been chasing her around Station Square.) She wasn't fully independent yet, even if she fought on her own a couple of times.

She often follows Sonic and his friends around. She is part of the team, but she was not a strong as she is now at the time yet.

She admires Sonic. A LOT. And Sonic knows that. Obviously, he could only run away from something like that, since he is NOT ready for that kind of thing, and whether Amy takes the hint or stop, she still loves him.

...BUT, I think things were slightly starting to change between her and Sonic after Lost World.

Remember this line?

You remember that? Okay, okay. Here's another totally unrelated question:

Before the events of Lost World, when was the last time Amy said "I love you" to Sonic out loud?

...YEP. 😈 (Unless I'm missing something, let me know lmao)

As more games and adventures come out, the characters get slightly older, and Amy is 12 to 13 now, and she is most certainly at that age where her body starts to change, but especially on how she views Sonic.

She knows she loves Sonic, but it was this moment during her change where she actually wanted to admit that she loves him.

I believe that Amy was all about sharing her affection to him not through confessions, but through obvious hints. Sonic totally got it, and there was no need to confess. Sonic knows she loves her.

...But she never said it. And she almost did, but she never did again for a while.

I think this was the moment in her life where, oh, God, she actually loves Sonic. SHE LOVES HIM, WHAT.

And she was looking back at all the times she had with Sonic that she can now see were unpleasant to Sonic (At least that's what she thinks) and that's probably why she isn't so expressive about her love to him than how she used to back then.

She wasn't sure what to do with this realization, and sets aside it for a while, and nearly stayed as her casual, peppy self... until the Eggman War happened.

During the 6 months of being with the Resistance, fighting Eggman's army all day and all night, all she can think of was Sonic.

She dreams that he still with not just her, but with her friends. She just wanted to see Sonic again, she just wants to be with her hero again.

But I'd like to think that she was also thinking about how she used to treat Sonic back when they were younger, how Sonic would almost always run away from her whenever she asks him out, or always look so uncomfortable whenever she gets so close to him.

Cringing at those memories big time, she wanted to change and hopefully when Sonic is okay and comes back, she can be better for him.

...Or will he still find her uncomfortable regardless? Would he even be happy to see her at all if he did survive?

But, hold on! She can't just give up her love for Sonic! He made her who she is today! A peppy, nature-loving, hammer-swinging, confident, brave... loud-mouth... annoying... Sonic obsessed... weak... pathetic... lonely little girl.

If she gives up on Sonic, it'll be like she gave up on the one hedgehog who saved her life. If she didn't she'll still be the same ol' Amy.

I also like to think she had parents a long while before she met Sonic, and was even expecting a little sister, but a robot invasion happened from where she was and attacked her parents and instead of trying to save them, after getting hurt, she ran away, hoping that they'll come back okay. But they never did.

She was all alone, and needed someone, a friend, a new family, someone who will hold her hand, anyone, to be there for her. But she was ignored by lots, and at that point, she's better off by herself, but still longed for company.

Eventually though, her tarot cards told her her future hero, and there might be hope after all. She encountered Sonic, held onto the belief of the cards tight, and the rest is history.

So, with that headcanon in mind, not only did Amy loose her parents that she didn't save because of her cowardliness (she was only so little at the time that happened) and also Sonic, who she thought will be her only hope, but now gone.

She doesn't even care if he did come back, he'd probably hate her now after everything she did to him, always talking about their "future wedding" or forcing him to go to Twinkle Park.

For the last few months of the war, it was nothing but Amy mentally beating herself up for either refusing to change or moving on, and they are both not fine choices.

She loves Sonic, but he does not love her, and she finally, finally realized it. And it's probably for the best if no body loved her at all.

But of course Sonic did survive and all of her worries wash away in an instant, she's just not expressive about her love for Sonic AT ALL now, since she's still worried about it but rather not mention it to Sonic because it doesn't matter.

If Sonic doesn't love her, then her feelings don't matter to him, and according to Amy herself, that is okay.

But also, I'd like to think that Sonic was thinking about his friends a lot up in the Death Egg for the past months, sometimes it's Tails (worried for his safety), sometimes it's Shadow (because he's wondering why he would join Eggman.) At some point, for a few days, Amy was in his mind the longest, and he felt bad about how he thought he was rude and pushy to her.

He wondered if she's not thinking about it too much, and if she is, will she give up on him? Yeah, he doesn't feel the same and still not looking for a relationship, but it's so strange but interesting how anyone could ever like someone like Sonic the Hedgehog. Amy was never afraid to show that, and she probably might be now.

He couldn't help but feel guilty. They were kids when she was like this, but he was so... arrogant at the time too. Not a lot happened at the time yet. He'd always have trouble expressing how much he value his friends, until he shattered the Paradox Prism. (I'd like to think Prime took place before Forces. It makes sense.)

She is such a sweet girl, and he probably made her believe that he didn't care for her. Just because he doesn't feel the same, that doesn't mean he hates her at all.

He wished he never ran away from Amy... Worrying for his little bro and wishing to be a good person for Amy was when Sonic cried in the Death Egg for the first and only time.

Frontiers, in my opinion, is kind of confirming their dynamic now. Sonic is a lot more sincere and kinder to Amy and she is not all hyperactive and lovey to Sonic. There is probably a real reason for this now.

They are both hiding their feelings from them, and they are both unaware of this. Amy, hiding her mental issues from Sonic, and Sonic, hiding his guilt away from Amy.

None of those things are important now. Sonic is with Amy and Amy is with Sonic. They are here with each other. They can be finally be better for each other now.

They don't care if they'll ever be something more when they get older. None of that matters anymore. They are here with each other. They can be finally be better for each other now.

Maybe someday they'll both talk about it, but for now, the present is important. They care about each other too much to think about it right now.

It's the kind of love that is unbreakable. It doesn't even have to be romantic. It's just love. Love is important for everyone, in any form. It's something Sonic and his friends need. And especially Sonic and Amy.

Amy Rose is the living embodiment of love, and without her, a lot would go downhill for Sonic and co. Heck, if it weren't for her, Shadow wouldn't have never remembered Maria's promise, which lead him to save the world with Sonic, before he temporarily disappeared from their lives for a while.

She is always there to lend a helping hand for anybody, even bad guys like Metal Sonic, and despite what she had been through, both in Forces and headcanon wise, she still fights back, even without her hammer.

She will pick you back up on your feet, reminding you that you are important and that you are loved, and that you should never give up. It's pretty much the words of encouragement she herself needed also...

She is still the happy, hyper, butt-kicking hedgehog we all know and love, but she still need someone to pick her back up on her feet after so long. Thankfully, she has her friends and her blue hero. The hero who made her who she is today.

I think Amy has no idea how important she thought she is, but Sonic does. Sonic knows fully well how important she is to a lot of people. It's about time he returns the favor to her. It's his turn to remind her how much a lot of people love her.

How much he loves her.

And I feel like The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog was the moment where their dynamic really shined, but also the starting point of their relationship not only healing, but also the next chapter of what's to come for them.

Everyone, friends old and new, gathered around for a special birthday. A birthday for the confident, unshakable, and radiant Amy Rose.

It was such a special moment in Amy's life. After years of chasing and following the people she look up to, she is part of the team, but most importantly, she is part of the family.

She is fully realized as someone more than just a fangirl, but someone strong, courageous, creative, kind and a big inspiration for others.

I feel like this moment here...

-is where Amy is eternally grateful to call her friends her family. A family she thought she'll never have again. She's not alone anymore, and as long as they're by her side, she'll never will be again.

Her chasing days are over. She's finally caught up to them. She's finally home.

And it's all thanks to Sonic.

If it weren't for him, she'd probably be alone forever. Her past moments with Sonic might be embarrassing to look back on for a while, but they are good memories regardless, because they involve him.

Sonic saved her life in more ways than one, and despite everything, he's grateful to have her too.

He cares about her. He really does... And in her eyes, that all she needed to know. As long as Sonic loves her in his own way, she'll be happy.

Amy hasn't given up on Sonic. As long as Amy always supports him, he'll be happy.

Maybe sometime in the future, they can talk about their problems, but that's a story for another time. At this point, they need to. Right now, they are happy. They are okay.

They are here for each other. They are finally better for each other now.

"You guys won't ever leave me, right?"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

[britneyshakespeare]

you know i don't bring this up as a light anecdote because it involves me being talked about in really perverted ways behind my back. but when i was like 20 i was part of this large group of friends that was mostly a bunch of guys, and a couple of girlfriends. and the energy if you were a girl starting to hang around them was like. "ok, so who are you gonna hook up with/date?" and it didn't last long bc of course when the answer ended up being "well none of you," the patience they had for me evaporated. lol. so i was being talked about among literally every single one of them behind my back in a gigantic group chat, of like literally everyone in the original group chat (including the ppl who never fucking used it, and it was over twelve people) minus a few other ppl they didn't like, decidedly. and eventually one of my GOOD friends (that i am still friends w to this day) told me about it and then there was the whole drama of people not being able to accept consequences for their actions, not owning up to being cowardly bullies, etc... yawn yawn yawn. truly that was some stupid middle school shit from a bunch of immature ppl that i didn't really take to heart. not the guys, anyway. i was honestly very hurt by a couple of girls who partook in it though, that i thought genuinely liked me and who i genuinely liked in return, so that was shocking to me.

but anyway. after this all happened my sister went OFF on this one guy in particular. bc he had been a nuisance before. he was a slimy creep honestly. i used to feel a lot of pity for him bc i thought he was just sad and wanted attention but that was just my 20-year-old nonsense brain way of interpreting it. he was incredibly annoying and would wear girls down, would hop from one girl to another week after week, each one not reciprocating his constant desperate flirting and lovebombing. and there was a joke he participated in about me and my (also queer, female) friend that was particularly crossing a line. so kaily just ripped this guy a new one when he went to try and offer an explanation. like imagine trying to even talk to someone after you just humiliated and bullied their sister... couldn't be me. like i was literally the one being bullied in this instant but i can't imagine the kind of white hot rage i'd be in if someone did that to my sister. you know? so yeah.

at the end of this rant kaily told him "go to hell." you know. like fuck off. go fuck yourself. go to hell. good old indecent words to throw out at someone you loathe, right? i'm literally ONLY bringing this up because i cannot stop thinking, all these years later, about how one of the girls who participated in it, and was the least apologetic about it (in fact weirdly a year later she came back just to taunt me again and tell me how much better her life is without me and how stupid i was for breaking up a 'wonderful' friend group?? yeah that sounds like the behavior of someone who is over it)... i don't remember where but someone told me she talked particularly about that message to that guy and said "kaily told (name) to burn in hell" like. like that whole time she interpreted my sister as like a conservative christian who was calling him a dirty sinner. bc presumably she had never heard the phrase "go to hell" in a non-literal context before, or just never understood it?? like that girl didn't necessarily strike me as incredibly bright or something, in the short time i knew her, but i never would've guessed she could be so dumb...

but for the record that pervert guy yeah he is gonna burn in hell.

[shineyma]

the number of posts that go around the batfandom that can basically be boiled down to "people aren't writing about the character I want them to write about so I'm gonna shame them"

good lord

[claratyler]

what did pj do /genq

he posted a video with pewdiepie a few days ago. Needless to say it gave me whiplash to see that in my youtube recommendations.. but it's more shocking to me to see that everyone was enjoying the video in the comments. or that here on tumblr, people have continued to post about pj completely ignoring the fact that he's out here collabing with Mr Notoriously Racist Youtuber

[actual-changeling]

my therapist be like "you communicate just fine" ok then why does no one ever understand what i mean

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[bileroom]

we're going to have our own safe home again and then we can process the. aughh

[imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul]

Overprotective- Jacaerys Velaryon

A/N: My thoughts lie only on HOTD, and most of those thoughts are on this PRINCE. I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader Word Count: 3.0k Synopsis: Jace's overprotective nature begins to grate on the reader's nerves as the birth of their first child looms closer.

Legend told that when in the womb, Targaryen babies started out as dragons before transforming into human children. It was nothing more than a silly folktale, your Targaryen family had assured you. But waking up in the dark of night, flinging the covers off of your scorching body, you aren't so sure.

Your nights had been spent like this for nearly two months now. If it wasn't the heat that coated your body, clinging sweat to your brow, it was waking up nearly ever hour to relieve yourself.

The child growing in your stomach was truly a Targaryen - passionate and unyielding.

The first four months of your pregnancy had been wonderful. You had none of the sickness that so many face in the early stages of their maternity. Back then you were often tired, but the child slept whenever you did. And to top it all off, Jace was a perfect husband. He brought you water when you needed it, rubbed your feet when they were aching, and then, you had wanted him constantly, and he had been more than happy to oblige.

But things change quickly during pregnancy, you are coming to understand. Jace wakes up next to you now, sitting up immediately.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"Nothing," you say, turning to face him. Your bedroom is dark, but even so, you can see the worry in his eyes. "Just too hot."

"Can I do anything for you? Should I call the Maester?"

"No, I'm fine," you say, straining to get out of bed. He supports your back, giving you the extra push to get up. You hate that he has to do this, that he has to push on your sweat drenched back, in order for you to stand.

"Where are you going?" he asks.

"To relieve myself."

"You just got up--"

"I know, Jacaerys," you snap, holding your stomach as you leave the room.

Jace had been wonderful those first few months, when you had been in high spirits. But now, you were in pain constantly, which made you irritable, which made any attempt he made to help you irksome.

When you came back into the room, Jace is still up, his head resting on his pillow. He lifts it a little when you come back in, smiling at you gently. The sheets have been changed - another new routine - but one that doesn't bother you so much. It made a world of difference to lay down in a cool, clean bed after waking in a pool of your own sweat.

"All right?" he asks as you lay down beside him.

"Yes."

"Sure?"

"Yes, why?" you ask, tilting your head up to look at him.

"Because you called me Jacaerys," he says, brushing a stray hair off your brow. "You only do that when you're mad at me." You let out a breath of laughter, but immediately feel like the emotion could change into a sob. Jace must see it, too, because he scoots closer, pulling you into his bare arms.

"Hey," he says, kissing your forehead, "You can call me Jacaerys whenever you like."

"I'm not mad at you," you say, turning into him, so your growing stomach presses into his. "There's just this monster inside of me making me go mad." Jace smiles to himself, nodding his head.

"I know."

"I love you," you say, a hand to his cheek. He leans in to kiss you, his lips cool. When you break apart, you realize the windows are wide open, and while you've been sweating all night, he has to be freezing. You start to say something about it, but he cuts you off.

"I'm fine," he says. "I love you. Please just try to get some sleep."

"Get off me, then," you say, pushing him playfully. He smirks, falling back over to his side, taking your share of the blankets, as well. You lay on your back, and can't help the groan of pain at the pressure the position puts on you. Jace immediately reaches for your hand.

"Jacaerys," you say, squeezing his palm once. He laughs.

"Good night, Y/N."

"Goodnight."

At seven months pregnant, the burning has finally stopped, but you feel weaker still. Every movement puts pain on your back, your shoulders, your feet. You and Jace speak a language that is mostly moans and groans, and not the kind that used to be typical for the two of you.

One morning, when Jace is away at Driftmark, Rhaenyra joins you for breakfast. At the sight of your sovereign, you try to stand, which makes Rhaenyra laugh.

"Don't trouble yourself, Y/N," she says, walking towards you. "I remember when I was your size. Took me all morning just to get out of bed." You give her a tight lipped smile, settling back into the comfy position you had arranged for yourself.

"Thank you, Your Grace."

"How are you feeling?" she asks, pouring herself a cup of tea. She motions to you, but you decline with a shake of your head.

"I'm alright."

"Is she kicking?" she asks, nodding to the hand on your belly.

"Only when I'm trying to sleep," you say with a laugh. "You agree with Jace, then? You think it'll be a girl?"

"The way you're carrying, yes, but one never really can tell. What are you hoping for?" she asks.

"For these next months to pass quickly," you say, straining when a nerve pinches in your side. You adjust your position, and find that Rhaenyra is looking at you with a small, understanding smile. "And of course, for a healthy baby."

"Of course."

"I don't know how you've done this so many times," you say. "Does it get any easier?"

"No," she says simply. You sigh, which makes her smile grow. "How has Jace been?" she asks.

"Very protective," you say, smiling. "Maybe too much so. I feel like if I just breathe wrong he's on alert, worried something has happened." A strange expression passes over Rhaenyra's face - equal parts pride and sorrow.

"I'm afraid Jacaerys has seen more than his fair share of pregnancies gone wrong," she says gently.

"I'm sorry, I know," you say, embarrassment passing through you.

"That's not to say that he isn't overbearing," she adds with a smile. "He's much like his father that way."

"Really?"

"He couldn't always be there," she says, "But when he was, he made up for the time apart with his watch over me." You smile at her as the door opens across the room, and Jace enters.

"You're back early," Rhaenyra says, lifting an eyebrow at him. He smells salty when he leans down to kiss you. He smiles at you, then looks to his mother.

"Thought I might join you for breakfast," he says, sitting next to you. "Besides, I was needed here more than at Driftmark." You exchange a look with Rhaenyra.

"How are you feeling this morning?" he asks you.

"Just fine, Jacaerys," you say, patting his cheek. "You didn't need to cut your visit short."

"Well, there is something I need to do here nonetheless."

"What's that?" you ask.

"It seems Syrax has laid another clutch of eggs. Joff and I are going to retrieve them, and the younger boys are going to help us pick one for the babe," he says, a hand on your stomach. You smile at him, at the gentle caress of his hand. You know he comes from a place of love with his attention.

"Do you want to join us?" he asks.

"I doubt I could make it downstairs, much less down to the Dragonpit."

"We could bring them to you," he says.

"No," you say, "Decide with your brothers. Just pick out a good one." He nods to you, leaning in to kiss your temple.

At the end of breakfast, Jace goes off to the Dragonpit, but only at your insistence. He wanted to walk you back to your chambers, but Rhaenyra assured him she was more than up to the task. Once he was out of sight, she laughed to herself.

"I see what you mean," she says.

Jace returns to your room that night with a shiny, white dragon egg.

Jace's lips are soft on yours. At eight months pregnant, finding moments with him is getting harder every day. He lies next to you, a hand on your stomach, the other cradling the back of your head.

"Y/N," he hums, each word spoken onto your lips, "I want you." You make a sound in your throat, both in agreement and in discomfort. It has been too long since the two of you have been intimate.

"I'm huge," you say.

"You're not and I don't care," he says, his mouth moving across your jaw.

"The last time we did this," you breathe, arching into him when he nips at your earlobe, "We had to stop because you worried you'd hurt the baby."

"I promise I'll relax this time," he says.

"How could you even get to me?" you ask with a laugh. Jace smiles at you as his hand moves from your stomach to your hip, turning you onto your side easily. He presses up behind you, kissing along your neck.

You sigh, relaxing into him. His hand pulls up the skirt of your nightgown, exposing your legs to the cool night air. It has been so long that you know you're ready for him immediately.

"Just tell me if I'm hurting you," he says. You groan, putting a hand to his face to stop him from kissing you more. "Y/N."

"Jace." You scoot away from him, turning slowly to face him.

"I didn't mean anything by it," he says with a sigh.

"How many times have you fucked me in that same position?" you ask. Jace frowns, frustration evident on his face. "Have you ever hurt me?"

"No, but things are different," he says. "What's the harm in asking if you feel okay?"

"It doesn't make me feel desirable," you say, looking up at the ceiling, stupid, frustrating tears forming in your eyes again. Jace sighs and moves to your side, propping himself up on an elbow so you have to look at him.

"Y/N," he says gently. "Of course you are desirable. You are still the most beautiful, incredible woman I know. And it's because you are so incredible that I want to make sure that I don't do anything that puts you in more pain than I know you are already in."

"I promise I will tell you if I am hurting, okay? You don't have to coddle me."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," you say, hand on his cheek to bring his lips to yours. "I'm the bitch for complaining about her kind husband." He laughs and kisses your palm.

"You're not a bitch," he says. You kiss him again. "Now please roll onto your side and let me fuck you." You laugh, doing as he says.

"Of course, My Prince."

Jace is at Dragonstone Castle when you go into labor. He has been anxious for the last month, knowing that any day the baby could arrive. He intended to postpone this meeting with the great houses, but you assured him that the babe would not come today. The only thing that kept him to his promise was the fact that Vermax could bring him back to the Red Keep quickly.

When Joffrey bursts into the room, Jace is immediately on his feet, already fearing the worst.

"What is it?" he asks.

"Y/N has gone into labor."

Jace barely spares a glance at the lords around the table. He urges Joffrey along. His brother had the foresight to request that Vermax be readied for when they arrived upon the shore.

The ride is quick, as he knew it would be, but he still urges Vermax along, wanting and needing to be close to you as soon as he can.

When he gets to the Red Keep, he runs up to your chambers, intending to throw them open and run to your side. Instead, he finds that they are locked. He can hear soft discussion, encouragements, but the loudest sound coming through the door is your screaming.

Joffrey followed him to the door and carefully peels him away. "She's alright," he insists. Jace won't be able to agree until he can see you himself.

Together, they sit outside your door for the next three hours. Joffrey doesn't say much, but when your screaming gets louder, or there seems to be a rise in urgency to the voices inside, he puts a comforting hand on his shoulder.

It seems like ages have passed when the doors finally open.

He doesn't wait to hear what the Maester has to say. He rushes into the room, his eyes going immediately to your bed. Midwives quickly take away bloodied sheets, and when they clear, he sees you. You are drenched in sweat, your hair matted all around you, and he's not sure he's ever seen you look more beautiful.

"Y/N," he says, as if he's looking upon the gods themselves. You look up at him, your face breaking into a smile. He rushes to your side.

"Are you okay?" he asks, taking your face in his hands.

"I'm okay," you say, laying a hand over his. He laughs. It's a result of the built up tension from the hallway, and he can't stop himself. He laughs as he kisses you, over and over. You laugh, too, and he tastes the salt of your tears on your lips.

"What is it?" he asks, quickly studying your face.

"Don't you want to meet him?" you ask.

"Him?" Jace's face falls in awe.

"Him," you say. You look towards one of the midwives and they bring over the smallest bundle Jace has ever seen. He sinks onto the bed beside you as the babe is placed in his arms.

"Hello," he says quietly. You lean onto his shoulder, looking down at your son with a smile on your face.

"Isn't he beautiful?" you ask, your voice a whisper.

"Yes," he says, his heart still thundering from the surprise. "What have you called him?" he asks.

"I assumed we'd discuss that together," you say, "But I was thinking Lucerys, if that'd be alright." Jace has tears of his own in his eyes. He bites back his smile, unable to put into words what the name means to him, what you mean to him. He nods his head.

"Does that sound good to you, Lucerys?" you ask, your finger touching the blanket over the baby's stomach. He starts to move around, crying out just a little. Like you've done it a million times before, you take Lucerys into your arms and shush him gently.

Jace kisses your temple repeatedly, until you laugh. You turn towards him and kiss him fully, passionately.

"I love you so much," he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

"I love you, too."

You stay in that position for an hour or so, Jace holding you, and you holding Lucerys. Joffrey is the first to meet the future heir to the throne, and he kisses you on the cheek when he learns his nephew's name.

When his mother enters the room, Jace doesn't stand, wanting to keep you in his arms forever. She is all smiles as she leans over your opposite shoulder. You sit up slowly, and Jace's arm around you helps guide you upright.

"Hello, little one," Rhaenyra says, taking the child into her arms. You sigh happily, watching her interact with him. Jace can't keep from kissing your face a few more times. He doesn't think he has ever been this in love with you.

"And what is the name of our little prince?" Rhaenyra asks, looking between the two of you. Jace looks down at you, but you nod your head to him.

"We've decided to name him Lucerys," he says simply. Rhaenyra's expression changes immediately, her eyes welling up with tears of her own. Holding Lucerys in one arm, she leans down to kiss you both.

"A fine name," she says through tears. "You did well," she says, looking at you. You smile back, tears forming again in your own.

After a few moments in her arms, she hands your son back to you, and departs, letting the two of you get acquainted to your new family. Neither of you say much. You just watch Lucerys with rapt attention, counting his fingers, and touching his soft patch of hair.

"He's so beautiful," you say quietly.

"He is."

"I don't think I'm ever going to let him out of my sight," you say, looking up at Jace with a smile. He smiles back, but notices the exhaustion on your face.

"Maybe you can for a little while," he says, "Just to get some rest."

"Still so overprotective," you say with a smirk.

"I've got two to protect now," he says, "So if you could just once let me take care of you without arguing--" You cut him off with a kiss.

"I'll try," you say. "But don't either of you leave this room."

"I don't think you could kick us out if you wanted to."

Jace stands with his son in his arms, watching as you lay down. The midwives come back in to check on you and Lucerys, before leaving the three of you alone for the time.

"It's okay, Y/N," he says lowly, when you still haven't shut your eyes, your gaze locked on the two of them. "We'll be here."

"Promise?"

"I swear it," he says, giving you an easy smile. He watches you close your eyes, and in a few moments, your breath falls into an easy rhythm, just like Lucerys's.

Jace looks down at his son. He doesn't want to disturb his sleep, but he wants to tell him, here and now, that he'll always be overprotective. So he makes the vow to himself, just like the one he made when he married you. He is always going to protect the people he loves, even if it sometimes drives them mad.

[sp0o0kylights]

Steve’s seen it before.

The barely concealed expression of horror, made right as a lady hears one of his cornball, goofy jokes and speeds through the five stages of grief as they realize they still want to fuck him. 

Even if he says shit so ridiculous a middle schooler couldn’t get away with it. 

(And Steve would know, because he’s watched Dustin try.)  

It’s a core part of his personality really. He was smooth about it when he cared about appearances, locked the corny shit away until they were alone and he could reveal just enough of his real self to seal the deal.  

Then he was all about making teddy bears talk and all other kinds of stupid shit. 

Nowadays he doesn't bother with putting on the cool guy front. 

Steve is who he is, and likes who he likes, and that perhaps, is why this particular look of horrified acceptance is so amusing.

Because it’s not on a girl's face.

It’s on Eddie’s. 

Which he expected, because Steve’s not as stupid as the kids think.

Just as Eddie isn’t the best at hiding his crushes like he thinks he is. 

The over-the-top showmanship and teasing, the jokes and theatrics might fool most of the Party, and had even Robin second guessing for a while, but none of them have done their time in the trenches.

Romance is, and has always been, Steve’s game.

“What did you say?” Eddie asks, laughter ringing through his voice, and with a cocky grin, Steve steps into his space and happily repeats himself. 

“I said--if no one’s done it yet, then let me be the first to thank you for wearing those pants.” For the second time, Steve sends his eyes downward, only to slowly pull them back up. “What are they made out of? Boyfriend material?” 

“oh my God.” Eddie says but he’s grinning, a finger pulling some hair across his face and Steve knows then and there that he’s won.

[chuluoyi]

fear

- gojo satoru x reader

his best friend’s defection is still a hard topic for him to swallow, and it leads into an unexpected argument that spurs you to leave, only to unlock a new fear in him when you get into an unfortunate accident afterwards.

genre/warnings: angst, gojo being mean, one scene with a worried nanami *wink*, injured reader, hurt/comfort, fluff in the end

notes: *sigh* my coping mechanism is still gojo’s past arc, which is why this piece takes place on that timeline. just a little context: reader is in the same class with nanami & haibara and was in the same mission that took haibara's life. this is probably the longest oneshot i've written so far sooo… enjoy! :)

general masterlist

A year and a half had passed since Suguru embarked on his path as a curse user. In that one year and a half, Satoru had finished his last year at Jujutsu High, and now was in the halls of his alma mater, speaking to the newly appointed headmaster who was none other than his teacher.

"You're applying to become a teacher?" Yaga asked again with a frown. He still couldn't wrap his head around it. Granted, he was his most troublesome pupil. "Why, Satoru?"

"If I said it's because I want to train young sorcerers to be strong, would you believe me?"

That was not a lie. It was actually 50% of his main reasons anyway. The other 50% was to repent what he missed with Suguru when he chose his dark path—his contempt with the current system of this jujutsu world.

"I would," Yaga responded gruffly. To him, Satoru was irritating, but he also knew that he was also extremely capable, and thus everything he did wasn't just out of nowhere. "But you still have to submit your applications. We can't make an exception even if you come from a prestigious clan."

"That's fine with me," he grinned. "Thanks, sensei."

On summer days, he'd get reminded of Suguru and silly things they had done together. Eating shaved ice, cycling together, driving either you, Shoko or Nanami mad. Satoru missed those days, it hadn't been the same ever since. Not knowing if his best friend was alright—if he was still alive at all—was exhausting.

Sometimes, he felt like he was the only one who was affected by his departure, the only one who stayed right where Suguru left him. Shoko didn't seem ruffled, if anything she just went to more bars and pachinko parlors as of late. Nanami was always a recluse, he never disclosed his feelings. You mourned him, but it was clear that most part of you would always be more focused on Haibara's death.

Satoru understood that he couldn't force anyone to feel what he felt, and he had no right to. But sometimes, he just wanted someone to connect with at his level. Someone to get him just like Suguru did.

And so when he got back to his condo that night—just right next to the one he rented for Megumi and Tsumiki, since he had moved out of his dorm—to find his girlfriend there with a big smile and a tray of cupcakes, unaware of everything and anything, he merely scoffed to himself.

"Satoru, you're back," you acknowledged, beaming like the sunshine you were. "I just baked these for the kids. Do you want some?"

Usually he'd smother you, throw some pickup lines here and there and say yes, but today, he just felt drained. "No." And with that, he stalked away to the bathroom, not glancing back at you.

It was wrong. But tonight he just wanted some peace and quiet, and so keeping his silence seemed to be the best choice as he didn't want to start a pointless argument with you. But you weren’t anything but observant, and definitely noticed that something was amiss with him.

"Are you... alright?" You approached him warily after he came out of the bathroom with wet hair. "Where were you today?"

"Just somewhere," he replied curtly. Afterwards he turned on the hairdryer, drowning the whole place with the noise even as you stood behind him with a visible question mark.

But you were still there after he dried his hair. "Is something bothering you?" you asked with a tilt of your head, concerned. By all means, you mean well. You just wanted to know if he could use your help at all.

When you pulled that expression, he couldn't help feeling annoyed, like he wanted you to take a hint, but you just didn't. "If you know, then just shut it."

It was probably the first time since the two of you got together that Satoru actually said something harsh. But you still tried to be reasonable though, bless you.

"Satoru, I don't know what got into your nerves like this, but I think sleeping through it might help. Have a rest."

"Why are you talking as if you know it?" he snapped, finally turning to you with his cold gaze. "You might not know anything, so don't be a know-it-all. Just mind your own business."

Now you were frustrated with his reply. "Once again, I don't know what happened to you. But if you're taking it out on me because I'm the closest you have—"

"Who said that?" Satoru didn't know where he got all this venom from. It was just at the forefront of his mind and he just got the urge to spew it. "You're considering yourself closest to me? Where did you get that big head from?"

You were aghast, and you blinked a few times to get your bearings. "Let me guess, it's about Geto-san, isn't it? Or the higher ups. Either of that must be what causing you to blindly place your anger on me."

"So what if it was? It isn't like you'll understand anyway."

"Satoru," you started, trying to even your breathing. "What happened to Geto-san isn't your fault. I've been telling you this. It can't be helped—"

"Can't be helped?" he jeered. "Do you know why it has come to this?" his tone took a dangerous edge as he stepped closer. He reached for you, grasping your wrist.

"Maybe because I was too blind back then. If it weren't for you—if only I didn't spend that much time on you, maybe he would still be here."

Did he just say that? Did he just imply that he had regretted the two of you getting together?

You felt your lower lip start to tremble and something seemed to obscure and blur your vision, making it hard to see him clearly. "You... don't mean that."

"Really?" the corner of his lips curled into a disparaging smile. "You never know. Before you know it, this can be over already. After all, I could have anyone out there that I want. Maybe someone less nosey than—”

That did it. You wrenched your arm out of his grip violently, as your first tear fell. His smirk vanished too, replaced with a total stillness to cover his sudden panic that was followed by a sudden sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach.

"You selfish, self-obsessed jerk," you hissed through watery eyes. He was taken aback, even amidst your anger and possible fear of him, your still managed to throw daggers at him. "Fine. You have it. I'll see myself out."

Satoru never wanted you to leave. Honestly, he would've made you stay. But he wasn't in the right state of mind and it was too late to take back what he said. He didn't want to mess this up even further.

You left the cupcakes, even throwing it away just to spite him. Driven by pain and humiliation, you choked back your sob and didn't spare a glance at him as you shut the door.

Peace and quiet. There he had it, he thought as he clenched his fists, at the cost of everything else.

Leaving that condo, every step you took felt like needles piercing your shattered heart. You wiped your tears roughly. No, you refused to cry over such asshole. He made it clear, didn't he? Whatever it was that you two shared, it was at the cost of his best friend leaving him. So now the blame was on you.

If you were thinking clearly, you would've understood that his words were likely a result of his own pent-up pain and frustration that he had kept to himself for some while. But you had no patience for that or even pinpoint what you felt right now—anger, disappointment or dread, or perhaps all three. You just felt wrongly accused.

Your feet brought you back to your dorm in the school. Now it wasn't as bustling as it once were. After Satoru and Shoko's graduation, you didn't really get close to anyone. There was Ichiji, but he treated you more like a mentor rather than a classmate.

As you sank into the comforts of your bed, You replayed the events, trying to find where it went wrong—and found nothing. After all, you had already said all that could be said. It wasn't just him who lost Geto, but you, Shoko and Nanami did too, but it was more convenient for Satoru to blame everyone else rather than trying to understand that they too shared this pain.

Nevertheless, you were disappointed. You didn't expect half of what he spouted, and it got you doubting everything you had.

"You've royally fucked up."

Satoru exhaled, glaring at Shoko through the corner of his eyes. "Yeah, maybe."

The reverse cursed technique user threw him a blank stare, taking in everything from his disheveled hair to his wrinkled trousers. "Gojo, as much as I can’t care less about your sorry ass, I'm saying this not out of concern for you, but rather for Y/N. You are an asshole."

The puff of smoke she blew expanded to create a cloud-like shape. "Yaga-sensei was our teacher. His student is now a mass murderer and wanted dead. Can you even imagine how he feels? And I can't believe I'm saying this—but weren't there three of us?"

A week had gone by and instead of doing the right thing like trying to get into your good graces, Satoru was in Shoko's infirmary in the headquarters instead. He didn't exactly know what he was looking for by going here. Maybe some lingering taste of his happier student days, and Shoko was the only one remaining.

Three of us, huh... she was right. That was precisely why he came here after all.

"You're just sulking because it seems no one cares about your best friend being the best there is. But have you thought about how our juniors also lost Haibara? Right in front of their eyes? Haibara was our friend too."

He was wrong, of course he was. Satoru realized that now. But it felt wrong to ask for your forgiveness now, not to mention the disrupting thought he had—should he let you go for good altogether?

The phone suddenly rang with such fervor that made Shoko utter a swear word. She was on call duty for the rescue team today, and it was supposedly a peaceful day until Satoru decided to barge in to become her company. "Hello? Ichiji? What—speak clearly, I can't hear you."

She switched it to loudspeaker. "...iri-san! Ieiri-san—h-help—please—"

It was noisy, and blaring at the same time, and Ichiji was... Sobbing? Choking? His voice was terribly muffled and—

"L/N-san!" he cried, and Satoru remembered at that moment that you should be in a mission with Ichiji, he remembered you telling him before.

"Hic—s-she fell... hic—she fell! B-blood! She i-is bleeding so much! I-Ieiri-san—hic—s-send help! Please!"

"Hey, stay awake. Breathe. Just breathe."

Everything hurt. Most notably, your head. You could hardly think straight when all you felt was blinding pain and how your breaths came in short wheezes. 

Your vision was blurry. The numbness had started to set in and chills ran up and down your spine. You couldn't make out who in front of you was. Was it Ichiji, who went with you in this mission? The only thing that glared was blue.

"You can't sleep, you hear me?" the voice was commanding, willing you to do his bidding. It was familiar, but usually his tone of voice was much lighter, happier.

Satoru.

But why was he here? He wasn't in this mission. It was supposed to be a mission for you and Ichiji.

You remembered getting the cursed spirit after manifesting your domain expansion, until in its last ditch attempt, it went after Ichiji. You had no choice—even when your cursed energy had burned out, you still shoved him away at the cost of being flung from the top of a building.

Not again. Not after Haibara. You’d gladly pay the price if it meant you didn't have to see anyone die in front of you again.

"I..." You managed to croak out—breathing hurt, and you felt your hands being grasped tightly.

"Hey, just breathe. Y/N. Look at me.” Through your blurry haze, you focused on that cold blue, and you saw him. Satoru's sharp eyes, pursed lips and frown. He's really here.

Satoru always said that if there was a cursed spirit apocalypse, then Ichiji would be the first to die. You used to scold him for that, but now as you a laid here possibly dying in your own pool of blood, you found it to be true.

Yet at the same time you knew that with him here, Ichiji must be safe already, and it gave you reassurance so great even when you were on the verge of dying. "I... can't..."

"Yes, you can. Just look at me," he firmly rebuked, his voice came out in a hiss. For all the time you had been with him, you had never heard him so forceful. "If you close your eyes now, I won't forgive you. So please, just hang in there."

It was a struggle to take in any air and darkness encroached on your vision as your consciousness began slipping away.

And everything faded to nothingness.

Satoru honestly thought he had no fears. His worst fear had fully realized after all—Suguru going away into the darkness. What more could he possibly fear?

But when he heard Ichiji's distress call for rescue team, about how you fell from a rooftop of a building and unconscious, he realized that it was a fear he didn't know existed. His mind got disoriented and he teleported to the scene on impulse. He just had to see it for himself. With their petty argument still lacking closure, he felt even worse.

And the sight before him gave him so much fright he never thought was possible.

It was a mistake, he should have brought Shoko along.

You had laid there like a broken doll, your eyes dimmed, and not been able to breathe. He desperately tried to keep you awake, his presence beside you, yet it didn't seem to matter. He watched helplessly as you passed out in his arms.

Satoru felt nothing. The panic that had set in was suddenly gone as your limp body slumped against him, replaced by incessant ringing in his ears and tremor wracking his nervous system. It wasn't long until the rescue team came to retrieve you and even then he still felt numb. He rejected the idea that you might possibly die on him.

That went on until Shoko, who assisted in the emergency treatment, came out of the surgery, sweat on her forehead.

"It's even worse than the aftermath of the guardian deity mission last year," Shoko explained with a grim expression. "Her brain has sustained damage and it affects everything. It may take her quite a while before she can go back to the field."

When she said that, Satoru felt terror washed over him again. You almost died—was all he perceived.

The two of you had no contact for a week just because of his ego. He could still recall that day with vivid clarity, feeling a burning ache in his chest. If someone were to ask him what heartbreak was like, now he certainly would he able the to tell them the two instances in which he experienced them. What he felt now mirrored the same stinging sensation he had felt when Suguru left him.

He visited you when he was allowed to, and you were still unconscious, with many machines connected to your body. It was a sight he still couldn’t bring himself to get used to. He had seen you injured before, but never seen you in your own pool of blood, so this made him feel sick to his stomach.

"Stupid," he whispered, gently rubbing your forehead. His eyes remained fixated on you as you rested, his insides still churning with emotions. "You're not weak, and you're not hopeless." Once upon a time, Satoru might have thought of you as weak, but now he knew better.

"So why you always pick the worst decision?" The more he thought this could've been avoided, the more irked he was. The thought that he could have done something to prevent it intensified the sting of guilt, and he continued to punish himself with it.

And the more he dwelled on the idea that he had hurt you prior to this, the tighter his breath became.

But that was who you were. Self-sacrificing to a fault. And he loved you for that. There was no way of him letting you go now.

It astonished even himself—that he was capable of this love thing. At first it was an attraction, but now that you had been going on for more than a year, it felt like it was no longer a silly infatuation after all.

"Hurry and wake up, will you?" Satoru gently brushed your hair aside, his eyes fixed on you. He didn't know it even as his gut twisted, his frown deepened and his touch quivered, that he was worried sick. "I have a lot to make up for."

And he left you with a tender brush of his lips against your forehead.

Nanami Kento was the first person you saw when you awoke from coma.

You struggled to regain your senses, still feeling absolutely broken. The dull throb on the back of your head was still there, and as if you had found yourself trapped in a fog, you were only able to move sluggishly.

"You're awake?" his gruff voice greeted, laced with concern. In his hand were a bucket of fresh flowers and fruits basket, which he soon placed at the table next to your bed.

It was unexpected, because ever since the tragedy that costed Haibara's life, the two of you had been drifting apart.

You nodded, and let out a hum in response—all you could manage at the moment.

"Thank God." Nanami sounded relieved as he pinched the bridge between his eyes, and you were moved that he had shown this degree of concern.

Your remaining classmate, who suffered the burden of Haibara's life just like you. He was always quiet or brooding somewhere, hiding his own feelings.

You felt tears pricking the corner of your eyes. The fact that he visited you meant that he hadn't decided to cut you out of his life yet.

"Gojo-san is out today, but he'll be back by afternoon," he said, mistranslating your tears as some sort of a want to have your annoying—ex?—boyfriend at your side.

The two of you were still not on talking terms, weren’t you?

You so badly wanted to say thank you to him—and tell him that no, you weren't looking for Satoru—but it came out hoarse and barely above a whisper.

"Huh?" Nanami then realized what you were trying to say, and a faint smile graced his lips. "Just... get well soon, L/N. Have a good rest."

Just before you drifted back to sleep, you could hear him sigh and mutter, "Hello, Gojo-san? L/N has awakened. Just letting you know is all.”

You weren't sure how much time had passed when you woke up the second time, but the curtains were already drawn and only darkness came from the window. Your body felt lighter, but you still felt like a mess and and couldn't help but groan in discomfort.

Satoru was there, he perked up at the noise you made. And you realized that it was the first time in about a week that he faced you after that disasterous almost-breakup.

He walked up to you, his expression was more hopeful than you had ever seen him before, like a kid whose wish had been granted. He slowly shifted to sit beside you.

"Hey, welcome back." His voice was soft. It was a change of pace for him, as you were used to seeing him all loud and silly.

Now your voice no longer sounds like a lead. "Hey."

"How are you feeling?" he asked and you took a moment to look at him. He was smiling, but exhaustion reached his bright eyes, dimming them. "You know, with the whole you passing out and almost dying thing?"

His words were almost humorous as he spoke, like he didn't know what else to say except try to lighten the mood, but there was also a strain on his tone, like he was holding back.

"I'm quite fine now, I suppose..." You still felt the lingering pain and dizziness as you slowly sat up. Satoru reached out to steady you—and you realized how his fingers trembled when they made contact with your body—as his brows furrowed with worry when you winced.

"You don't look like it though." His voice dropped and the humor was gone, replaced by this haunted look. You blinked. It was probably the first time you had seem him this ruffled.

He immediately pulled you into a hug, cradling your head to his neck gently, as if to protect and shield you from the world altogether. Exhaling heavily, he leaned on you. "You scared me, you know that?"

You wondered out loud if you really had that hold over him. "Did I?"

"You can't do that to me, you hear?" Satoru stroked your hair, nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck. His voice quivered. “Don't ever do that again.”

He pulled you tighter against him, but still careful not to crush you.

You let out a snicker, letting go of everything you felt during this horrible week. "Heh, afraid to lose me, huh?"

"Shut up,” he grumbled. “What were you thinking anyway? How did you calculate that freefalling is better than letting that cursed spirit attack Ichiji?”

"He was defenseless. He could die, you know that."

"And you also can," he quipped, upset, pulling away enough to look you squarely in the eyes, his eyes devoid of any expression, yet filled with a raging wave that you could only interpret as undiluted concern.

The emphasis in his tone made you recoil and feel guilty. If you were in his shoes, you probably would've said the same thing and so you had nothing to say to that.

But the more pressing agenda in the list was the unspoken silent treatment the two of you saw fit to use against each other for the last few days. Satoru was the one who decided to address it first.

"About that night..." he faltered, looking away. "I didn't mean what I said. I'm sorry."

Satoru always had trouble processing emotions. This time too. He must've a hard time dealing with the anxiety caused by the possibility of him losing you for good, no matter how much he tried to be unaware of it.

"..." You wanted to respond, to make him understand your point, but somehow right now you were just too weary. And he sensed your reluctance. So you blurted the first thing that gnawed at your mind.

“You said you could have any other women out there—”

"No, really—" he started to panic, and it was blatantly too, which surprised you. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Us. I don't regret anything. I’m not breaking up with you. Being with you is the happiest I've been ever since Suguru left."

“That's...” you blinked, before letting out a small sigh. “Okay. Fine then. Let's just put it behind us for now.”

“I—” he almost wheezed, his bright blue eyes were overtaken with sheer urgency to explain how wrong everything had been that night. “You must know that I didn’t mean any of it. And that I hate hurting you the way I did. I won’t—”

"Satoru, I understand," you let out another sigh, fidgeting with your fingers. "Sometimes when I’m reminded of Haibara, I also get sad. I don't want to presume but I think I know how you feel. Just next time, maybe," you shifted your gaze on him, seeing how you had his attention fully. Gojo Satoru, the strongest now, was looking at you as if you had his fate in your hands. "Just tell me if you need space and I would have understood."

"Yeah, okay, sure," he responded immediately, relieved, before a lopsided grin appeared on his face, turning him back into your dork slash boyfriend. "So, am I forgiven now?"

"A thank you would be nice."

In the end, he chuckled, seemingly resigned. "You should sleep more."

He positioned himself into bed next to you, and you let him pull you into his chest again. You could feel how his taut back started to relax upon the contact. He pressed his lips on your forehead in a fleeting kiss.

"Promise me you won't pull that stunt again.”

You smirked. "I can't. What if Ichiji—"

"Then just let him die."

You swatted his arm playfully, pressing your head to his chest as he continued to run his fingers on your hair. He cushioned you carefully, and you felt the tension in him slowly melt away with each breath you took. In your mind, you figured he needed this closeness more than you did, if anything, for the sake of his sanity.

“I love you,” he whispered by your ear, kissing it lightly.

“Mmhm.”

As you felt Satoru's calming presence, it helped ease you into slumber. You soon found yourself in a deep sleep, comfortably held in his embrace.

Epilogue

Ichiji gulped as Satoru stared him down, sizing him up as if he was the most despicable creature on this planet.

Okay, he might be. He was a coward, all he could do was trembling in the face of evil. But he had come in peace, even bringing fruits as an offering! He felt bad too that he was the partial cause for you to be this injured.

He was used to Satoru terrorizing him—calling him names, slapping him, and whatnot—and he could take it. Just this time, he really looked like he could murder him on the spot if he wanted to. A small part of Ichiji mourned that you were his girlfriend, because that pretty much sealed his fate that Gojo Satoru could indeed murder him on the spot because he had a valid enough reason to.

"You are—"

"No! I'm sorry, Gojo-san! I'm sorry for my incompetence!"

"Hah?"

If he was mildly irked before, now Satoru was visibly irritated.

"You're not cut out to be a jujutsu sorcerer," he started. "You're useless. You just get in the way most of the time."

Ichiji kept his head down. No, no. He can't cry!

"Get your driving license or I'll slap the shit out of you."

"Oh?" and before he knew it, Satoru had stalked away, leaving him in the dust. How rude! But...

Get a driver license? Quit the jujutsu work?

Hey, that sounds like something I can do!