#that it genuinely doesn’t occur to him that she would also be one of the many people who fear him

[daydreamerdrew]

Marvel Team-Up (1972) Annual #3

[it-was-summer]

... And Fall In Love Whenever You Can.

A/N: This fic genuinely had me tearing up as I wrote it. Therefore, it shall hold a sweet place in my heart. As a kid, I used to say, "If something makes you feel, then it is good." I still believe that today. If it makes you happy, sad, flustered, ANYTHING! To feel something while reading is such a beautiful reaction to media. I often cry at movies, I cry when I read romance novels, I cry when I read poetry, and I laugh when I do, too. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you feel something, Em <3 (I also apologize for vanishing; I got sick, and it made me feel brain fog)

Link to the Ao3: ... And Fall In Love Whenever You Can Link to the: Yee olde masterlist Tags: Grief support group, mention of death(s), loss of romantic partners, struggling with mental health, tears, the rise and fall that is nonlinear healing, fear of forgetting a loved one, falling in love after tragedy, Spencer sounds like he had therapy, Maeve mentioned, guns mentioned, she/her pronouns for reader used at like one point, Reader's POV for the most part, Reader is in extreme denial and feels guilty, a secret other thing??, lightly proofread tehe!

Genre: Light Angst, Some? Hurt/Comfort, Fluff! Pairing: Season10! Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Plot: Meeting Spencer at a grief support meeting might be the best and the worst thing to ever happen to you- but it's all relative in the eyes of love.

Word Count: 9,791

You were pacing a dimly lit parking lot outside of the funeral home. It had been eleven months, two weeks, and three days since Alexander’s death. The grief meetings occurred every third Wednesday, and everyone was lovely enough. You just couldn’t find it in yourself to go inside this particular Wednesday. Because it was on this date, two years ago, Alexander had gotten on one knee at the aquarium and asked you to marry him. It was two years ago that you had said yes, not knowing that a little over a year from then, he’d be dead. 

Your feet kept making strides to the double door entryway, only to slow to a stop when your hands reached the door’s push handle. Then, you’d shake your head and turn around to circle the parking lot once more. With your luck, the meeting would be over before you even got the courage to go inside. 

A groan escapes your throat as you firmly put your hands on your hips, tilting your head to the Summer sky. “I’m sorry,” Your voice is raw, barely a whisper as you struggle to keep yourself from crying. You knew everyone said not to keep it in, to express your grief freely. It minimized stress. At least, that’s what the grief counselors say. 

The worst part was no longer knowing who you were apologizing to— yourself or Alexander. 

You were walking around one of the parking lot’s street lamps when you saw someone standing at the doors, frozen in place. It was like watching a mirror of yourself—rigid shoulders, twitching hands, shaking head. 

You approach the man slowly, your image warped in the reflection of the glass doors. He turns to face you before you can speak, and he looks like you did eleven months ago. His eyes have dark circles around them, tinted with a red water-line and dull cheeks. That doesn’t stop you from gracing him with a gentle smile, “Are you going inside?” 

His eyes meet yours for a second, looking away to glance back at the doors. “I’m not sure.” His voice is quiet, scared. He sounds like he is still on the fence. You nod, drawing your lips into a tiny line as you drop your hands to your sides. “Are you?” He asks, stepping out of the way for you. 

You feel your mouth open to say you are going inside, but the words never come. Instead, you shake your head side-to-side timidly. “I’m not sure either,” You laugh out feebly. He nods, a dull smile gracing his delicate features for a millisecond before looking off with a forlorn expression. 

“I was thinking about walking around the parking lot again… to try to gain the confidence to go inside. You’re,” you pause, wondering if it's a good idea to offer the man an invitation, “You’re welcome to join me if you’d like.” 

The man looks at you again, his eyes widening for a second. You’re sure he’s about to decline, return to his car, and drive away, but he nods. You feel yourself smiling. It’s a little subdued, but it’s real. You mouth a silent ‘okay’ as you move your hands to your pant pockets, stepping away from the doors with this mourning stranger. You figured you didn’t have to talk if he didn’t want to, so everything was quiet as the two of you slowly walked around the large parking lot. 

Eventually, your quiet stranger speaks, “Thank you,” 

You shrug a little, sniffling, “It’s daunting, especially the first meeting.” 

He frowns a little, watching your eyes flit over to him and then back to the night sky. “That obvious?” 

“Only a little, but that’s not a bad thing.” Your voice is gentle as your feet slow to a stop, a light smile appearing on your face as you stare into the night. Spencer tilts his head to look at the stars, silently hoping that what makes you smile will make him smile, too. “Do you see her yet?” You ask, voice like honey. 

He feels like crying as he says, “No,” He doesn’t even know who you’re looking at. 

Your right hand is coming out of your coat pocket as you point to Cassiopeia slowly, tracing the stars with your index finger. “Cassiopeia, she’s a little low right now, but in a few months, she’ll get higher. You see her?”

And Spencer does. He feels his body relax, just for a moment. “I do.” He feels himself smiling a little at the sky, and the feeling feels almost foreign. His gaze falls back to you as you stuff your right-hand pack into your pocket, “I’m– I didn’t introduce myself earlier. I’m Spencer.” 

“That’s alright; I didn’t introduce myself either,” you sigh before you tell him your name. He nods at your response and follows you once your feet start moving again. 

“Have you—” He motions to the funeral home in the distance, “ever been inside?” 

“Oh, yeah. I’m a funeral home grief support group regular.” You joke lightly, though the soft chuckle you let out sounds like a sad one. 

He nods, nervously adjusting the beige cardigan on his chest. “Is everyone—I mean—” He draws his lips closed as he tries to gather his thoughts. “Do you like it?” 

Your feet slow for a second as you think about it. Sure, everyone was friendly, and the support was more helpful than harmful. But did you like it? You give him a little nod when you answer, “Yeah, it’s been nice. Less,” You tilt your head slowly like you’re choosing your words carefully. “Less Lonely.” 

Spencer lets out a relieved-sounding sigh as he mutters a gentle “Right.” 

“I just,” You swallow carefully, “I’m having a hard time going in today. My fiancé proposed two years ago today. I just— I mean everyone inside knows, I just,” You trail off for a second, sniffling lightly as a cool breeze brushes against your watering eyes. “It doesn’t matter.” 

Spencer didn’t know what to say to that. With Maeve, he had barely met her in person before she was murdered in front of him— the future pulled out from under him. Nowadays, he spends his time rereading books, remembering conversations on the phone, and mourning her silently in his apartment. Sometimes, he didn’t know which would be worse: losing her when he did or ten years down the line. Nonetheless, there is no Maeve to help him answer that question. 

He struggles to find the words for a second before he nods, slow and unsure of himself, “It matters.” 

You grin at how scared he sounds, the sound of a man holding on to the memory of a face that keeps fading away in his mind. “I know,” you can feel the ghost of the engagement ring on your left hand, a ring that now lies in a coffin. 

As the two of you get close to the building once more, you ask, “Are you going to go in?” 

Spencer swallows hard, the knot in his throat making it difficult for him to breathe. “Maybe next meeting,” 

You nod, “Me too.” You stare at your car in the distance before you feel yourself standing in the parking lot with Spencer— unmoving. “I know it’s not a lot, and I know that I can’t help that much, but,” You pull your phone out of your pocket, opening the keypad cautiously before holding it out to him. “If you ever want to talk about it, or anything really, I’d be happy to talk with you.” 

Normally, Spencer would decline such a kind gesture. He would thank you, drive home, and find solace in something familiar. His fingers twitch lightly as he reaches out for your phone, staring down at the keypad for a second before he puts in his number. He doesn’t know why he wants to talk with you. He thinks it’s because talking with a stranger about Maeve seemed less daunting than talking about it with his coworkers— his friends. You barely know him, and that makes your offer seem safe. No preconceived notions, pity, or gentle promises of being there for him, just a stranger talking to another stranger. 

Two weeks go by like usual— no text from your stranger named Spencer, coffee for one at the café that was Alexander’s favorite, taking his mom to dinner on Thursdays, and so on. Sometimes, the days blur into a muddled painting filled with muted tones, and you try your hardest to remember when everything had a vibrant hue.

Most days are easy, easier than most, at least. It’s not that you forget about him. You remember him when you see a couple holding hands or golden retrievers going for walks, you think about him with everything you see, and it feels good to remember him. You’re happy to have known him so well, loved him so deeply. But all the love inside you has nowhere to go, so you go to his grave on Saturdays, hoping you can pour all the love in your heart onto a tombstone with his name on it. It never works, of course, but it helps. 

You're running late this particular Saturday morning. You have two coffees in hand—one of which always goes untouched—and you’re stuck on the metro. That’s when you see him again, your stranger sitting in the fluorescents of the railcar. 

Pushing through a small crowd, you approach him, slowly taking the empty seat next to him. Spencer doesn’t look up at first, his eyes glued to the book in his hands. That is until you’re leaning over to him to say a small “Hello,” 

He jumps at the sound, head snapping to look at you with wide eyes. He doesn’t know why he’s so surprised you remember him, but he is. “Hello,” 

Your eyes meet his, “Do you remember me? I-I’m sorry I shouldn’t have invaded–”

“No! I mean, yes, I remember you. You’re not invading my space. You’re fine.” 

You let out a relieved sigh, looking away from him for a second to look down at the cups in your hands. His eyes follow your gaze, and he offers you a shy smile, “Are you meeting someone?” Small talk was never his strong suit. 

You look at him, eyes lingering on his polite smile. “Oh,” you laugh like it's funny. “No, it's just me.” Spencer gives you a confused look, and you quickly answer his silent question. “I visit Alex’s grave. He loved black coffee. It was the most unsettling thing about him.” 

Spencer doesn’t know how you’re smiling so wide as you say it. How could you talk about someone you lost and smile so wide talking about them? Would he smile like that one day? Would he even have things to smile about, or would what-ifs haunt him until the day he dies?

You find that you hate the silence that follows, the lack of sound creeping over your skin, making you itch to say something more. “I’ve always liked cemeteries too, so bonus, I guess.” 

That gets you a sharp laugh, “You’ve always liked cemeteries?” Spencer’s eyes seem slightly brighter now, less red than two weeks ago, and they’re laser-focused on you. 

You happily nod, “Always thought they were beautiful. It’s a creation of love, a way for your love for someone to live on.”

“Not sure everyone thinks about them that way,” 

“Well, I guess they wouldn’t, and that’s alright with me.” You hum softly as the intercom announces in a static-filled voice that the railcar will be moving soon. “It’s quieter that way.”

Spencer glances towards the intercom for a second before turning back to you, “I suppose you’re right— about the quiet thing, not sure I agree with always liking them.” And he’s smiling at you, a real smile. 

You feel yourself smiling back, wide as ever, “What’s your opinion on cemeteries then?” 

“I’d like to say I don’t have an opinion on them, but if I had to form one, I would say they’re…” He trails off for a second, thinking about it more now. He laughs for a second, “Well, I suppose I find them rather serene.” 

Your eyebrows raise for a second as you study him. How he seems to be relaxing in the conversation, and you can’t help but consider extending him an invitation to your weekly visit with Alexander. The longer you stare at him, the more you think the worst he can say is no, so you ask. “Would you like to join me?” 

Spencer reels back slightly at the invitation; it feels intimate, yet he doesn’t want to say no. He wants to see what you see, to understand your mind, “I–” He looks away for a second, staring at the still-opened book in his lap. “If you’ll have me.” 

Once you are on the street, you hum lightly while walking beside him. Spencer doesn’t seem to mind very much, his fingers fiddling with the edges of his book that now resides closed in his hand at his side. He’s nervous for some reason. He doesn’t understand why you invited him, nor why he said yes. He thinks maybe he should announce that he has other plans, turn on his heel, and book it in the other direction. 

But when the two of you tread closer to the cemetery gates, you start talking again. “I hope you don’t find it strange that I invited you. It’s been a little under a year– well, a year next week– and I know it might seem weird, but I’d like to think he’s happy about me having a new friend.” 

He knows it is a coping mechanism, and he knows Alexander cannot feel anything anymore. Spencer’s a man of science, but hearing you say that makes him feel at ease. His shoulders unwind slowly, “He sounded like a nice person,” 

You let out a playful hum, “Sometimes. If he didn’t like you, he made it pretty obvious.” You pause for a second, glancing over at Spencer. “He was tall, kind of like you, and nerdy. But he was so funny; no one knew how funny he could be. They never listened hard enough, you know? I hated that people would talk over him in a crowd. To me, he was the only person worth listening to.” 

Spencer finds him smiling at that, following you as you take a left. He sees that you're smiling, too, and when the two of you get to his grave, you’re still smiling. You let out a happy sigh as you talk, introducing Spencer as “Your new friend.”

For a while, you tell him stories—memories from when Alexander was still alive—and he finds he doesn’t mind listening to them. He sees them as a great distraction from his lack of happy stories with Maeve. You’re laughing a little as you tell him of the time that Alexander’s mother wouldn’t stop sending him a massive, bulk-sized trail mix every time she sent him a care package in college. He had so many bags that they lived under his bed for the better part of four years. 

“Did he even like trail mix?” 

“Honestly? Yes, but he only liked the chocolate and peanuts. It would just be massive bags with an abundance of raisins inside.” You shake your head a little as you stand next to Spencer. 

Spencer lets out a slightly amused hum. His mind keeps going over how good you are with everything. You talk about Alexander openly. You don’t hold your feelings back. You smile so wide, even when you look at his headstone. He wants to know your secret— some secret to grief that he has yet to uncover.

His mouth opens briefly, closing quickly as he shifts his weight awkwardly beside you. He sucks in a nervous breath as he tries to muster up the courage to speak. “How do–” He sighs heavily, “I mean, I’m sure you struggle–” He licks his lips nervously, your eyes meeting his slowly. “When does it stop hurting?” 

You’re silent for a second, your soft smile fading as you stare at him. He’s scared that maybe that’s the wrong question to ask as he watches you turn your head to look down at Alexander’s grave. He is about to apologize when you whisper, “It feels different now.” 

Spencer’s mouth snaps shut as he waits for more, his eyes scanning your side profile slowly for some sort of sign that you’re uncomfortable. “Last year, it just felt like–” A pause, your free hand rising to your chest slowly. “It felt like someone had plunged a dull knife into my chest and left me for dead.” 

Spencer’s chest tightened for a second, his own heart feeling painfully dull as he listened to you. 

“But, I’m not the one who died. Alex did. I was so angry— disappointed that he had the nerve to leave me when we were about to start the next chapter of our lives together. I had–have– all this love inside my heart for him, and he’s gone. It took me a long time to understand that, to be okay with it.”

Your words catch in your throat, and you clear your throat quickly. The familiar burn of tears threatens to build in your eyes as you force yourself to look at Alexander’s grave. “He was so kind, and once I got past that feeling,” your voice sounded thick. “Life kept going, and so did I. He wouldn’t have wanted me to stop living my life. When you love someone, you only want them to be happy– with or without you.” 

You sniffle lightly, relaxing your shoulders slightly, “It never stops hurting, I guess, but days get better. I’m happy that I got to be a part of his life. I find some comfort in that. Somewhere, in the story of him, I’m there.” Eventually, you find the courage to look over at Spencer. When your eyes meet his, you find that he’s staring at you with a compassionate expression. You can see the understanding in his eyes. You swallow hard, pushing the emotional lump down your throat. 

“It does get better.” You whisper, your voice warm. 

Spencer nods quickly, mouthing a little ‘I know’ before his eyes trail away from you for a second. A cool breeze passes between the two of you when he says, “Just needed the reminder,” 

The next time you see him, it’s the third Wednesday of the month, and he sits right next to you. You find yourself smiling a little when he does, nudging his shoulder playfully as more people fill the space. He scoffs playfully, the silent gesture letting you know he’s happy you’re here. 

The meeting passes like usual: New members share their stories, grief counselors hand out business cards with their phone numbers, recurring members offer kind sentiments, and then, just near the end, your seat partner stands up. 

Your eyes widen for a second as you watch Spencer stand, his eyes laser-focused ahead as people turn to look at him. You watch how his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. A shaky breath leaves him as he tries his hardest to start talking. His hands flex for a second, pressing against his pants to wipe off what you can only assume is sweat. 

He stutters for a second, his confidence creeping away from him. You’re surprised when he turns his head to look at you. His breathing steadies as he watches you. “I’ve been having difficulties sleeping again. After,” His hands move a little as he speaks, his eyes periodically looking towards the rest of the group before trailing back over to you, “I just– I used to have a hard time sleeping, and lately, it’s been happening again. Every time I sleep, I see her, and I feel so–” He used to dream of her after her death, dreamt of touching her, but these were different. Dreams that constantly left him waking up feeling devastatingly alone. 

He shakes his head a little, “It’s been seven months, and I keep dreaming of everything that could have been.”  

The confession is met with comfortable silence and sympathetic looks, but not from you. You’re nodding, an encouraging smile spreading across your face. For some reason, he likes that better. “I don’t like leaving her when I wake up.” The admission feels like a weight lifting off his chest when he says it. 

There’s a pause of silence before he sits down, unsure of what else to say besides his admission. As one of the counselors begins to talk to Spencer, he finds himself listening intensely. Seven months, and he’s finally willing to take some much-needed advice. 

After that month’s meeting, Spencer has back-to-back cases. He’s keen on keeping in contact with you, which you’ve said he doesn’t have to do if he doesn’t want to, but he insists. He likes having someone to update, a friend waiting to see him when he’s free. 

The next time he’s free, it’s a rare Saturday. He’s been awake since five and can’t seem to go back to sleep. He does keep dreaming of Maeve, but they’re a little different now. This time, he was in a cemetery with you. It was freezing, the kind of cold where you could see your breath, and you were laughing about something when the two of you bumped into her. Maeve’s not angry. She just laughs and glances at Spencer before hugging you. You hug her right back and say something– and that’s when he wakes up. 

Spencer doesn’t like the feelings that stir inside him with that dream: confusion, curiosity, sadness, something else. The feeling is warm, tinged with an overcoat of sorrow, and he finds himself needing a good distraction. 

However, reading isn’t helping, nor is the crossword. So eventually, he finds himself getting ready to go out for the day in the search of a good distraction that will get his mind off his dream.

He doesn’t know why he thinks about the cemetery where Alex’s grave is on his way to get coffee that day, but he does. A part of him feels that a nice walk will do him good, so, coffee in hand, he finds himself walking… then taking the subway… then ending up in front of Alex’s grave… alone. 

Spencer’s lips slightly pout when he sees no coffee cup on the headstone. He knows that you have yet to visit your late fiancé today. He doesn’t exactly know why he’s visiting your late fiancé today; without you, it feels… strange. 

The longer Spencer stares at the letters etched in stone, the more he feels a realization dawn on him. He feels guilty… guilty for dreaming of you, guilty for craving your warmth right now, and guilty for a million different little reasons. 

Spencer feels his lips part for a second, a sigh escaping his lungs, before he whispers, “I’m a mess. " He knows he’s talking to thin air, but he feels lighter, admitting it to himself. 

“I don’t know what I’m feeling. All I know is that I shouldn’t be, and it won’t do anyone any good, and secretly I think–” He sucks in a cold breath of air, “Secretly, I think I don’t deserve it.” The grave is silent, of course, but Spencer smiles anyway. 

For a while, he thought his future had passed him by. A brief image graced his vision before leaving him blind. He can see now. He sees that he still has things to do, goals to accomplish, people to meet. Then he’s walking away. 

Two meetings and four coffee ‘dates’ later, you’re rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet as you watch Spencer laugh over something with one of the grief counselors. It’s a strange feeling to see him laugh so openly. It's heartwarming if you’re being honest. It’s hard to explain it, and the feeling is too intense– too raw. It’s a feeling you dimly remember, and suddenly, you’re nauseous. 

You have a crush, which is incredibly laughable because you’re an adult. The last time you had a crush on someone was three years ago, Alexander. This almost feels cruel. The longer you stare at him, the more real it becomes. 

Spencer catches your eye for a second and excuses himself from the conversation in his polite Spencer way. When he reaches you, he smiles warmly: “Somebody’s all smiles.” You hum with a playful roll of your eyes. 

Spencer pouts for a second, good-natured and playful, as he mutters a little, “When did smiling become a crime?” 

“It isn’t. I’m just being observant, and you have a nice smile.” You try to keep your voice calm and level, but he seems to catch on anyway. Spencer’s eyes seem laser-focused on you, studying you carefully. Internally, you’re beginning to pray that his profiling skills fail to notice the classic signs: your sweaty palms, wandering gaze, and too-tense shoulders. 

And if he does notice… you hope he doesn’t say anything. That’s not Spencer’s way, and you know it. “Everything okay?”  

You nod quickly, “I’m good, sorry, I was just thinking about… bills.” You know he catches the lie the second you say it; you can see it in his amused smile. 

“Bills?” 

“Bills.” 

“I’m not sure I like this story you’re going with, but if you’re sticking to it, I won’t pry.” 

You nod, letting your shoulders relax as you sling your bag over your shoulder. “Thank you,” 

“I was thinking,” Spencer starts as he grabs his messenger bag, following you out. “We could get dinner together Friday night.” 

“Why?” Your tone is a little flatter than you’d like it to be as Spencer walks you to your car. You'll admit the idea of being alone with him is nice, but the admission feels strange— still too raw, surreal. 

“Because…” He trails off slowly, hoping to find a better reason than it being because he wants to have dinner with you, but the longer he sits with the ideas, the more he feels like you’ll turn down his idea. He feels self-preservation take over, and for the first time (and what he hopes is the only time), he lies to you. “My teammates are having a get-together.” 

“Oh!” You say as the two of you reach your car. “And you want me to meet them or?” The idea seems less daunting. Yes, Spencer and you had been to get coffee together, but that was just coffee. Dinner seemed too intimate, but dinner with friends? Now, that was less scary. 

“Yeah! Yes, I think it’d be nice!’ Spencer’s voice cracks slightly before nervously clearing his throat in a weak attempt to control the anxiety that creeps into his tone. “Would you… like to meet them?” 

You’re leaning against your car door, and the air smells sharp with the promise of snow, and Spencer’s sure you’ll decline. You grin, nodding slightly, “Sure, I mean, it’s just dinner with friends. What time Friday?” Your arms fold over your chest, pulling your coat closer to your body.

“Six.” He doesn’t know how his fake dinner has a time, but he’s surprised at how easy it is to come up with one. “Nothing fancy. I’ll, um, text you the address.” 

You watch him for a second, trying to read him the way he reads you. His voice seems higher in pitch, and his eyes keep glancing at yours. You chalk it up to him being nervous. The combination of two groups already frying his nerves before it even happens. “Can’t wait. See you Friday.” 

Spencer stuffs his freezing hands in his pockets as he watches you enter your car and drive off. Then, the panic sets in. 

He’s tailing Derek desperately, “Listen, I know it’s rushed, but–” 

“I don’t see why you can’t just text her the address and ask her out. Straightforward.” Derek says as he takes the left towards Penelope’s office. “Or you could say we canceled and make it just the two of you.” 

“Considering I already lied to her once, I’d rather not lie twice. And–” He fumbles with his words for a short second. “It’s not a date. I just thought she thought it was one, and I panicked.” 

“What’s wrong with it being a date?” Derek asks, knocking on the door gently before entering Penelope’s office. 

“Date?” Penelope echoes back as she turns in her chair. 

Spencer holds out a hand defensively, “It wouldn’t— it’s complicated! Please say yes. You’re the first person I’ve asked.” 

“Asked what? Am I going to be asked?” Penelope chirps as Derek hands her a coffee. 

“Pretty boy here,” Derek motioned to Spencer with a light wave, “Lied to one of his ladies. Invited her to a team dinner that doesn’t exist.”

“A team dinner would be fun! With a new addition, too!” Penelope said with a sip of her coffee. “When?” 

“Friday,” Spencer mumbles, avoiding her gaze. 

“Friday, as in, tomorrow Friday?” She sucks in a breath of air, “Spencer…” 

He frowns and mouths a little, ‘I know’. He looks at them, pleading, “Please, even if it’s just the two of you…” He trails off slowly, watching Penelope and Derek share a look. 

“I’ll text the rest of the group.” 

“Not the whole story,” Spencer adds as Penelope pulls out her phone. “Please.”

“I’m already doing you one favor, boy genius.” 

Spencer is surprised at how many of his team members agree to dinner. JJ, Penelope, and Derek all promise to bring their respective partners. Rossi and Hotch politely decline, but given his sudden plans, he doesn’t blame them. 

However, by the time five-thirty rolls around, he can see that he’s been played. The first text comes from JJ, claiming that Henry is sick and that she can’t make it. Derek follows, saying that he accidentally double-booked and cannot cancel his reservation with Savannah. He can feel himself sending a silent prayer to Penelope before she, too, is texting him to cancel. 

So now, he stands outside the restaurant in a long brown trench coat and purple scarf tied tight around his neck. When you arrive, adorned with a cream sweater and rosy cheeks, you ask him the inevitable: “Where’s the team?” 

Spencer's throat tightens as he answers, “They’ve canceled, so it’ll be just us if that’s alright with you?” 

He can see your smile falter momentarily before you nod, “That’s fine, another time.” You shiver a little, glancing towards the restaurant. “Should we…?” Spencer, silently elated that you aren’t leaving, nods and hurriedly rushes over to open the door for you. 

Once seated, you are greeted by a slightly uncomfortable awkward silence. You’re sure that it will soon resolve itself, but Spencer seems too lost in his thoughts, and it becomes clear that if you want this long silence to end, you’ll have to speak first.

“I’m sorry every–”

“Do you–” 

The two of you stare at each other briefly before laughing softly. Spencer’s eyes crinkle a little when he’s laughing, a feature you seem to be adoring silently before he says, “I’m sorry that everyone canceled.”

You push out a little breath, your gaze falling to the menu on the table. “That’s okay, I’m sure everyone has busy lives.” You shrug a bit before glancing up at him, “I do have a question for you, though,” You watch as Spencer’s back straightens, and he gives you a small smile as the ‘go ahead.’ 

You flatten out the front of your sweater nervously, “Do you think it’s weird that I was supposed to meet your friends— the team?” 

Spencer gives you a slightly confused look before you quickly add, “I don’t think it is, but I was talking to my coworker about tonight, and she said it seemed like an excuse for a date. Then I explained it, and she called it weird, and I don’t know—Do you think it’s weird?” 

Spencer can feel his cheeks heating up against his will, and his head shakes from side to side, “No! No, it’s not weird.” he pauses, thinking about it for a second. “Well, maybe a little. But not for you, for me. You’ve never expressed an intense interest in meeting them, but they mentioned bringing someone, and I thought—” He motions to you with a shaky hand, “Thought you’d be a good person to bring to dinner. You’re lovely, and my friend, and I—”  he feels the rest of his words die in his throat. He wants to tell you that he wants the team to meet you. He wants everyone to see how wonderful and kind you are. 

He feels his mouth dry, realizing he wants you to meet the team now. He wants a third party to witness your calming effect on him, and, most importantly, he wants them to like you because he likes you. 

A slow ringing grows in his ears at the full realization of his feelings for you. Your smile, usually calming, has his heart leaping in his chest. He finds himself leaning closer when you say, “I didn’t think it was weird either,” 

Spencer lets out a little huff of relief, “Good, that’s good.” His heart was beating fast in his chest. He knew he had feelings for you but was unaware of how deep they ran. 

“Though I will say, it is strange that they all canceled.” 

He feels awful lying to you. He can count two lies now and doesn’t want to tell a third. “Yeah, I can’t explain that one. They all did it at the last minute. I’m sorry.” 

“I don’t mind, though I was scared this was all a set-up for a date.” You laugh as if it’s the silliest idea you’ve heard. 

Spencer can feel his heart in his throat, his breathing quickening slightly. “Would it be bad if it was?” he can’t stop the words from spilling out, his eyes widening at his sentence.

Your surprised face stares back at his, breathless as you look at him. You’re about to say something when the waitress comes by to take your order. You manage a slight, polite smile as you order before you’re staring off at Spencer. His nervous eyes flicker between the waitress and you as he orders quickly. 

When she’s gone, you stare at each other with bated breath. You draw in a slow, calming breath when you say, “I don’t know,” 

“You don’t… know?” 

“I just, I haven’t thought about—” You pause, knowing it’s a lie. “I have—” You correct gently before you let out a frustrated sigh. “I thought we were friends.” Your voice cracks slightly. 

Spencer draws his head back at that, “We are friends. We are. I didn't know if you ever thought about—” He doesn’t know what he’s saying. What is he aiming for here?  

“Anyone dating you would be lucky, Spencer.” You say, sweet and gentle. You don’t know how to save this situation. Your love for Alexander will always be in your heart, strong and genuine, but… looking at the man across from you. 

You watch his fingers nervously trace patterns on the glass of water in front of him, how he’s looking at you with such a sweet expression. You just didn’t think this would happen to you. You were sure that Alex was it. He was all you would ever know— you had resigned yourself to it. 

Would you be a bad person if you fell in love again? After everything, it feels… selfish, dirty, wrong, terrifying. “I’m not sure I’m your best option.”  Is what you settle on. 

Your heart silently breaks as you watch Spencer’s face fall. His nervous fingers slow their movements until he whispers a sad, “Right.” There’s a pause, like he’s deciding what to do next. He then nods, like he’s coming to terms with something. 

“Right, I’m not saying I’m looking–” His brown eyes scan your face, “I’m not even sure I want something like that. I don’t know why it sounded like I was. I just want you to know that I—” He swallows thickly, “I like being your friend.” 

“Me too! I like being your friend, too.” 

“Good!”

“Great!”

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, “So we’re on the same page?”

“Same chapter and everything.” 

Spencer lets out a huff of a laugh at that, nodding slowly. 

The rest of the dinner seems normal; the interaction from earlier seems to be brushed under the rug, and you’re grateful it is. However, the topic kept worming its way into your train of thought. The nagging thought of ‘What if…’. 

It's not a terribly horrible idea to date Spencer. If you were honest with yourself, you had thought about it before—not obsessively, just in passing. A little whisper of an idea, lovely and new. It was nice to fantasize about love, but it was just a fantasy. You had a great love, and you were grateful. 

Wanting more than that was greedy. 

After dinner, Spencer insisted on walking you home. He wouldn’t listen to a single one of your protests and simply convinced you with a firm, “I’ve seen what happens to people when they go off alone late at night,” 

The reminder made you readily accept his company on the cold December night. Walking by his side, watching how your feet started to sync in step, your mind began to wander. What did a date even feel like? It had been so long since you’ve had a date… you weren’t even sure you would know if you were on one unless it was explicitly said. 

The thought makes you chuckle, earning the interest of one Doctor Spencer Reid. “What’s on your giggling mind?” 

“Nothing,” You sigh, glancing over at him. “I was just thinking about how long it's been since I’ve been on a date. I don’t even think I would know if I was on a date if I was on one. Someone would have to sit me down and explain it to me,” 

Spencer’s lips quirk upwards at the idea, listening to you. The sweet look he’s giving you is not lost on you as you continue to ramble, “I mean, I’m not even sure I remember the last time I tried to look for a date.” 

“Care to take a guess?” 

“Uhm,” You draw out the sound as you think, your tongue wetting your lips. “Six months ago, maybe, kind of, sort of?” 

Spencer’s clever mind quickly realizes that this failed dating experience happened a month before he met you, and then he notes that it also happened ten months after Alexander’s death. “And.. What do you mean by that? How does someone, kind of, sort of, maybe look for a date?” 

You roll your eyes, “It wasn’t really my idea. My friends convinced me to go on some dating apps, and I tried!” You laugh lightly, “Well. I pretended to try. I just didn’t like it. It wasn’t what I expected.” 

“What were you expecting?” 

Your feet falter momentarily before finding their pace next to Spencer again, “Something from a Nora Ephron movie, maybe? Something like You’ve got Mail.” As you say it, you see the strange look on Spencer’s face, and it makes you grin. “It’s a romantic comedy.” 

He mouths a soft ‘oh’ and feels awkward because he still doesn’t know what you mean. You’re quick to explain, “It just means I had high expectations. Alexander and I were friends for a while before we,” You trail off before you wave the sentence off with your hand. “I just didn’t like it. Felt too forced.” 

Spencer understands that part, slowly taking a left with you. “Haven’t tried that yet.” 

“I wouldn’t recommend it.” 

He grins and nods, “What do you recommend?” His curious mind was getting the better of him. His left hand slipped out of his coat as he waited for your answer, his knuckles dangerously close to yours. 

“In a world seemingly becoming increasingly dependent on technology for everything? I’d recommend shooting your shot with every pretty stranger you see.” It's a joke, but the idea of Spencer asking for the numbers of every pretty person in DC made your chest feel strangely tight— a light reminder that your crush was still going strong. And you’ve already turned him down.

“I’m not sure you’ve been paying close attention to me these past four months,” He jokes lightly. 

“Oh, trust me, I have been.” The words tumble out before you can stop yourself, and you can feel your cheeks growing impossibly hot. 

Spencer’s quick to tease, “You have been?” 

You nod, trying to act like it's nothing but friendly, but your nervous breathing might give you away. You take a steady breath, happy to think that if he sees red on your cheeks, you can blame it on the cold weather. 

Instead, he slows to a stop just steps away from your apartment complex. You stop, turning to look at him, and when you see him, all composure leaves you with one little glance. Spencer’s ears are red, his hazel eyes glued to yours, and his hands nervously fidget with his long purple scarf. 

He draws in his lower lip nervously, his brow furrowing in the way that lets you know he’s meditating on something in that beautiful brain of his. His hands move as he begins to talk, “I have been too,” 

With that, you feel all the air knocked out of you, and your trembling fingers hide in your pockets. You’re not sure what he wants you to say or do. It feels like a confession, making your heart pound in your chest. His sweet eyes study you, “I’m not sure what I—” He steps closer. 

“Not sure what I want. All I know is that I feel something—” He makes a weird motion with his hands like he’s trying to shape his feelings with his hands. “Hopeful? I don’t know! I just,” 

“I know.” You rasp out, nodding quickly. “I know.” You repeat it because you do know. You know what he’s feeling, that dangerous feeling of tentative hope, the sense that something is beginning again. The world shifting into focus and becoming colorful again. 

Spencer’s gaze softens as that, and then the two of you just stare at each other for a moment. Guilt seemed to creep into your chest, invading your heart the longer you stared into those pleading brown eyes. Some part of you wanted to give it a shot, take him in your arms, and just let go. The stubborn part of you couldn’t let go of what you once knew. 

What would you say to your friends— or worse, Alexander’s family? Thinking about being happy with someone else again felt like a betrayal. 

Spencer could see the shift in your demeanor, the way your eyes glossed over with emotion, your back rigid, and he knew you weren’t ready. The feelings you were feeling were ones he wrestled with weeks ago after visiting Alexander’s grave. “I visited his grave without you a few times.”

 Your brows knit together at that, stuttering gently as you manage a soft “Why?” 

“I felt guilty about how I feel about you. I thought visiting his grave would make me back down, but it didn’t. I visited Maeve’s grave and thought about my feelings there too. She would have liked you.” 

“Spencer, don’t–”

“You told me once that he would’ve wanted you to be happy with or without him. Why can’t you let yourself be happy? I know it’s uncharted territory; it is for me, too, and he knows you don’t love him any less–” 

“You didn’t even know him!” 

Spencer's lips draw into a tight line at that. You can’t stop yourself before saying, “You don’t understand the love I had for him. It was different from how you felt about Maeve. It was special.” 

Your breathing is heavy, and you're trying to stop yourself from crying. The second you say it, you regret it. Your rigid posture slacks, and you step towards him quickly, but he steps back once you get closer. 

“You don’t get to say that,” his voice is colder, his eyes cast down to his hands. Then he takes a sharp breath and looks up at you; his warm hazel gaze turns cold. “My love for her was just as special as yours was for Alexander. I can see that, even if you can’t. But at least I can see when something exceptional is right in front of me. Unlike you, I didn’t want it to slip through my fingers again.” 

Your mouth feels dry as you try to respond, anger and guilt fighting an internal war inside you before Spencer turns on his heel and says, “Goodnight,” 

The snow starts again as you watch him walk away, blinking flakes out of your lashes, cheeks red from the tears falling as you watch him disappear around the corner. 

The conversation is still fresh in your mind at dinner with Alexander’s mom Tuesday night. She lives just outside the city in Maryland, so whenever she made her way into the city, you made it a point to meet up. 

She watches the way you’re staring at your sandwich. The intense look you’re giving the meal almost makes her laugh. “Don’t be upset with the club. We can always get you another sandwich, dear.” 

You raise your head slightly at that and let out a nervous laugh, “No, the sandwich is fine. I’m just thinking. I’m sorry, Shannon.”

Shannon lets out an understanding hum, waving you off with a simple flick of her wrist as you apologize. “Is it work?” 

You give her an easy smile, “Ah, no. It’s… confusing and probably boring; don’t worry about it.” She gives you a little look that says, ‘Come on, really?’ and it makes your smile widen. 

“When you retire, everything is confusing and boring, so lay it on me.” 

“Shannon, please, I promise you don—” 

“I will make you pay for this meal; do not force my hand.” 

“I am paying?” 

“Exactly. Now tell me what’s on your mind.” 

You slump in your seat and nod in defeat. “Alright, well,” you wet your lips nervously, trying to figure out the best way to tell her. “You remember last time I mentioned that I had that friend from the group? The genius—Spencer.” 

Shannon nods, motioning for you to keep going slowly, “Well, lately, he and I have become aware of some feelings for each other, and I–” You can feel your legs trembling, “He just doesn’t get it. I can’t do that to Alex or you. He just doesn’t understand—” 

“Sweetheart, slow down.” She held up a hand, an amused look on her face as you rambled at the speed of light. “Start over.” 

You let out a little huff, trying to calm your growing nerves. You roll your shoulders back, gaining some composure, “I have feelings for him, and I thought it was just a passing crush, but now it’s getting so messy. And he told me that he has feelings for me too, but I told him off, and we haven’t talked in four days– which would be fine if we didn’t fight, but we did— and I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know?” 

“He’s really sweet and great, but I just… I keep thinking about my love for Alex and don’t want to let go of him.” Your voice gets quiet with the admission. “I’m happy loving just him, only him.” Your voice shakes lightly, forcing your gaze down, your eyes filling with tears. 

You hated telling her this— hated telling her that your stupid heart found itself attached to someone other than her son. You mentally prepare yourself for something, anything, yet you still cringe when you feel her hand rest on yours. 

“He’s dead–”

“I know–”

“No, listen,” Shannon says sternly, watching as you lift your gaze to meet hers. “He’s dead. Every day, I have to remind myself he’s dead. I know you do, too.” She frowns for a second before she gives you a weak smile. “But, you? You’re alive. You’ve experienced a loss no one should have to experience at your age, and yet here you are. Would he be ecstatic over you falling in love with someone else? Not quite, but I know my son. He wouldn’t want you to be alone. Or worse, unhappy.” 

You blink away tears, your bottom lip trembling, “I don’t want to forget him,” 

“Who said you’re going to?” Shannon jokes lightly, giving your hand a light squeeze. After a moment, she whispers, “Knowing Alex, he probably sent Spencer your way.” 

You laugh at the idea, but the sound dissolves into a little sob, “He would.” 

Shannon brightens momentarily, “He was always jealous of how good you were at trivia night. Maybe he wanted someone to beat you for once?” 

“Spencer can!” You laugh harder than you should, but you can’t help it. You picture Alex’s face, joking about how you have too much useless knowledge in your brain. 

As your laughter dies away, a wave of anxiety rolls over you. “I was awful to him last Friday.” 

“Then make it up to him,” 

After much deliberation, you knew you would, or at least, you would die trying. The next meeting was in two weeks, which seemed too far out. After three texts, two calls, and one voicemail, you decided to go to him. 

You had been to Spencer’s apartment once before and were sure it was on this block… maybe. It was early Saturday morning, and you could only hope he would look out his window and see you pacing the sidewalk. 

But an hour passed, and the cold wind forced you into a coffee shop down the block. Shivering as you waited for your coffee, you glanced at the unread texts you sent him one last time before stuffing your phone back into your pocket. 

Clearly, he didn’t want to see you, much less talk to you. You chewed on your bottom lip, lost in thought until you resolved that seeing him at the next meeting would have to do if he didn’t text you back before then. 

And so, two weeks and no texts back later, you sat in your usual foldable seat and waited. But he never showed. Your eyes watched the doors patiently, and you counted every last participant, thinking that the next one had to be Spencer. 

But they weren’t. He was nowhere to be found. You had sat on your feelings for him for weeks, sat on with nasty comments and behavior for two weeks, and found yourself still waiting. He didn’t have to attend every meeting, but you felt even more desperate than before. Hating the feeling, you left halfway through.

It wasn’t like you could force him to talk to or forgive you. But it hurt knowing just how much you had hurt him. Were you being selfish for wanting a chance to confess to him again? Was it selfish how you looked for him in every crowd? 

The unfortunate reality of your pain was that you were so scared of falling in love again that you pushed love away before it could even touch you. You found yourself driving to Alex’s grave that night. It was out of your way, but you didn’t want to go home just to wait by the phone again. 

After parking in a nearby parking lot, you found yourself standing in the middle of a very dark, isolated cemetery. If Spencer were here, he would say how dangerous this was, maybe even throw in a statistic just to solidify his point. 

You smile, eyes adjusting in the moonlight as you look down at your dead lover’s grave. You crouch, touching a bouquet of almost-dead flowers at the foot of his grave. “Was I bad at this with you, too?” Your fingers trace the brittle petals of a dying rose. 

You can hear the crunching of gravel and slush approaching you, and a part of you freezes. As the sound gets closer, you can hear panting, your head turning cautiously to look for your rapidly approaching company. 

When you see the silhouette of a man not too far down the trail, you tense. How stupid were you to be in a secluded area in the middle of the night? You curse under your breath and stay crouched, hoping it’s just a late-night jogger passing through and that he won’t see you if you stay low. 

Your eyes stay on the figure, and you mentally go over possible escape plans when you see it— a messenger bag. What kind of serial killer or jogger wears a messenger bag? Your tense shoulders briefly relax for a second at the thought. 

Then, a hint of moonlight illuminates your huffing stranger— messy brown hair and a crooked tie. You stand, “Spencer?” You say his name when he approaches you, the moonlight letting you get a glimpse of his soft eyes for a moment. “What are you… How’d you know I’d be here? What are you doing here?” 

“You weren’t at the meeting,” He huffs, leaning over to rest his palms on his knees. 

“I–” You scoff, slightly amused. “I left early. Did you show up?” 

“No,” he admits, his tone becoming sharper as he catches his breath. “No, I–” he hesitates for a moment, “I saw your car on my way home, and I got worried, and I–” He roughly drags a hand through his curls, “You shouldn’t be in isolated places like this late at night.” 

Your shocked expression melts, and your lips quirk into a slight smile. Spencer sees this and responds sharply, “I’m being serious!”

You hold up both hands, “I know, I—” You sigh, a slight chuckle following the sound before you say, “I knew you were going to say that. I could hear your voice when I parked across the street.” 

“Maybe you should listen to it sometime,” 

You nod, and then a moment of cold silence follows. The two of you stare at each other for a long moment before you feel your lips moving against your will, “You never called,” 

Spencer can feel his heartbeat quicken, “Wasn’t aware I had to.” 

“You didn’t have to. I just would have–” You cut yourself off, nervously licking your lips. “I wanted you to.” 

Spencer stays quiet before he replies with a soft “I’m sorry,” 

You find your smile returning as you shake your head, “That’s my line,” 

He lets a little chuckle at that, ready to tell you it’s okay, when you quickly add, “I’m sorry for how I acted three weeks ago. I shouldn’t have been so cruel or close-minded, and I should have been honest with you about my feelings. I’m sorry I pushed you away. I’m sorry for implying your love for Maeve wasn’t special. Oh, Spencer,” You let out a heartbroken sigh, “I feel terrible. I was such a bad friend, and these past few weeks, all I’ve wanted to do is make it up to you.” 

You can feel the tears threatening to fill your vision, your cheeks burning in the cold as you let out a meek, “Tell me there’s something I can do to make it up to you,” 

Spencer can see your pleading eyes in the moonlight, and his chest tightens at the sight. Ignoring your calls and texts wasn’t easy, but he was convinced that it was the right thing to do. You weren’t ready to move on, and neither was he— not completely, but he didn’t want to try with anyone else. He only wanted to try with you. 

He swallows thickly when he says a sweet “You’ve already done it,” Then you’re beaming at him, and he’s right back where he was three weeks ago. As you dry your misting eyes, he softly confesses, “I watched You’ve Got Mail.” He pauses, smiling lightly when you give him a surprised look through your tears. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, so I–” He nervously moved his hands as he talked, “I watched any Romcom that I could get my hands on because I—” 

You smile as he trails off, his hands twisting together in that nervous way that tells you he’s scared to say the rest of his sentence— he’s too afraid to say he missed you. “Me too,” You confess, “I missed you, too.”

He nods, a grin on his face as he looks at you. He can feel his confession rising in his throat, his lips moving awkwardly as he tries to gain the confidence to confess to you again. 

But, before he can say anything, you’re speaking, “I don’t know if you still feel the same as you did three weeks ago, but I–” You swallow hard, clearing your throat softly. Your hands move with you as you speak, the cold making them feel slightly stiff. “For the longest time, I couldn’t imagine myself happy with anyone other than Alex.” You blow out a sigh, glancing back at his tombstone. “I thought one great love was enough— I only deserved one. I was happy with that, and I felt lucky for it.” 

You can feel yourself trembling, and you don’t know if it’s the cold or your nerves getting the better of you; nonetheless, you keep going, “But lately, I’ve been thinking— hoping really— that you’re the expectation.” You squeeze your eyes tight at that last bit, trying to calm your breathing as you wait for his response. 

“If anyone deserves more than one great love, it’s you.” Spencer’s voice sounds closer, soft. 

When you open your eyes, you realize he is closer, inches from you. You gaze up at him, giving him a light smile when he whispers, “We can take it slower,” 

“I like slower.” 

He laughs and nods, “Me too,” he holds out a cold hand for you to take, “Let me walk you to your car?” 

You stare at his palm, watching your cold fingers intertwine with his. The sensation makes the tips of your fingers buzz with anticipation. You feel his hand gives yours a slight squeeze before guiding you to the parking lot across the street. 

It’s not the last time you walk side-by-side, holding hands in the middle of the cold East Coast winter, and he’s determined to make sure it’s not your last. 

And whenever anyone asks how the two of you met, Spencer lets you tell the story, his hand slipping into yours as you say, “Well, it’s a bit of a long story.”

[m4tthewmurd0ck]

did some force take you because i didn’t pray?

─�� aegon x fem!reader (you’re one of helaena’s lady’s in waiting)

the 2 times Aegon had someone there to comfort him

(i’m slightly changing things but just go with it pls)

small a/n before we begin: no use of y/n, i do my best to avoid descriptors BUT do use she / her and mention reader being shorter than aegon. when he hugs / holds you he is able to rest his head on yours. also i know everyone has titles and long names but to save time and also make it easier i just use first names. changing aegon’s rant just so im not word for word with the show.

also disclaimer: i know aegon is not a good person by any means! this is just the alternate reality version of him where things could turn out different if he’s shown genuine love and care

For as long as you’ve known the Targaryen family, it dawns on you one day that you’ve never seen Aegon cry.

In the beginning, that didn’t mean much. You were one of Helaena’s ladies’ in waiting, and only ever saw the then prince on occasion.

Then Aegon was crowned King, and you saw him a bit more as Helaena was required to be present at what felt like too many ceremonies. Because you were almost exactly the same age, although it was against an unspoken rule, she came to see you as a friend.

When the twins were born and Helaena saw how good you were with them, it seemed to anyone who was around that she wanted you near at all times. She practically begged you to begin sleeping in her chambers to help with the fussing and crying at night, and of course you said yes. It occurred to you later that night that she could’ve just demanded it.

It wasn’t long at all before the twins also formed an attachment, as their mothers need to have you close by didn’t lessen even as they got older.

Though they both loved you, Jaehaerys in particular, was very fond of you. Jaehaera was a lot more independent and chose to play with her dolls or little trinkets by herself. But the boy, the other ladies’ in waiting and even Helaena herself, often called him your little shadow.

Whatever task you were given, it wasn’t uncommon for Jaehaerys to be nearby. As he grew a little older, he began to ask questions.

Once, he asked why his mother wore such fancy dresses, but yours and the rest of the ladies’ were only ever plain. It hadn’t occurred to you that because you spent so much time with him and had a big hand in raising him, he saw you as family and genuinely didn’t understand why you dressed differently.

Luckily, you didn’t need to answer. Aegon appeared from around the corner, calling for his son. Once Jaehaerys ran to him, he gave you a nod before grabbing his sons hand and leading him in the opposite direction.

To the King, you were a mystery. He knew his sister preferred you to the other ladies’ in waiting, and he knew she’d rather you over any of them to be looking after the twins when she was busy, but he didn’t know why. Still, his sister was set in her ways, and in the end he simply decided it was best to not ask questions. Even he could see that you cared deeply for his children, and for him that was enough.

On the day Aegon wished for his son to sit in on a council meeting, Jaehaerys was being a bit difficult that morning. For whatever reason, he refused to go unless it was you that escorted him.

After assuring him that you’d only get the boy in the room and then quickly make your exit, Aegon nodded and led the 2 of you into the room.

Just like you knew he would, Jaehaerys immediately went for “the ball” as he called it, in front of Tyland Lannister. You could see irritation immediately all over the man’s face, but to his credit he did his best to hide it.

The third time the ball was grabbed, you were the only one that heard it when Tyland snapped. The meeting hadn’t yet begun but you could see he already wished it to be over.

“That child doesn’t belong in here,” he muttered to himself, unaware that you could hear him.

“I will escort him to his mothers chambers now. Is the heir to the throne bothering you a bit too much?��� That last bit slipped out, and you immediately regretted it as the room grew silent and all eyes turned to the 3 of you. After a few tense seconds, most everyone resumed their conversations.

You slowly stood up, Jaehaerys now on your back as that was the only way he agreed to leave the room. “Apologies Ser Lan—”

“Hold on,” the room stilled once again when it was Aegon that spoke this time. He looked at you, then back at Tyland. “She has nothing to apologize for. And I believe she asked you a question. Is the heir to the throne, my son, is he bothering you?”

Even Alicent opted to look down and fiddle with her hands rather than step in. You didn’t think you’d ever been more grateful for Aegon that in that moment.

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

ONE.

On the night Jaehaerys was murdered, you were knocked unconscious. You’d later find out it was the man they called Blood that hurt you, but at the time all you knew / remembered was waking to a loud noise. Immediately you got out of bed, but before you could properly realize what was happening, you felt something sharp across your cheek. And before you’d even had time to cry out, something hard hit the side of your head, causing everything to go dark.

When you woke, you ignored the maesters requests to stay in bed. As soon as you stood up, you almost wished you’d listened as you immediately felt dizzy. That was also when you felt the stinging pain of the cut on your cheek. The maester explained that you wouldn’t need to have it stitched up, but he hadn’t yet bandaged you because even in your sleep, you tossed and turn whenever he tried to tend to that injury.

After agreeing to not over exert yourself, you were off to find Helaena. It was then that another one of the ladies’ in waiting broke the news to you.

When you were let in to Alicent’s chambers, and locked eyes with Helaena, she immediately stood up from her spot on the floor and ran to you, Jaehaera still held tightly in her arms.

“Are you alright?” You knew she would be with the maester if she were injured, but you still had to ask. “They said—”

“He’s dead,” was all Helaena could say. That and “they killed him”.

What felt like an eternity later, and you’d gotten Jaehaera to sleep and convinced Helaena to at least lay down with her, you were unsure of what to do. Only a few moments later, you found yourself wandering the halls. Every inch of the place had been searched almost immediately, so you know that the halls were alright once again.

Part of you felt like you didn’t have a right to mourn Jaehaerys, as he wasn’t actually your son. You were just trying to process the fact that you’d never see his little smile again. Never again would you turn a corner and be greeted with that sweet voice asking where the 2 of you were going, because him staying with anyone else was out of the question.

You were one of the first to hold him after he was born, and had seen him every day since. To already be in a world where he no longer existed, it seemed cruel.

When you stopped walking, you realized that you’d come to Aegon’s chambers. The doors were obviously closed, and you had only managed to take a few steps back the way you came, when you heard them open.

“Oh, good,” you turned around, surprised that it was Alicent that had spoken. “Did Helaena send you?”

You stuttered as you tried to form a response, but she seemed to take your silence as a confirmation.

“He’s distraught, obviously. I’m not sure he’ll speak to you but…” she seemed unsure of herself. In the end she sort of motioned towards the doors, before turning and walking away.

Before you even raised your hand to knock, you heard sobbing. It was then that you realized you were wrong. Yes, your heart could break even more.

It didn’t escape your notice that Alicent left the room as her son was sobbing. You knew she wasn’t the comforting type, but you couldn’t imagine simply walking the other way.

After a few knocks, you weren’t surprised when there was no answer. As you slowly opened the door, then shut it behind you, you thought to yourself that you should’ve thought about what to say beforehand. Here was this normally stone-faced man, showing more emotion now than he had in the entire time you’d known him. And after more thought, you realized that perhaps Alicent had tried to comfort him but was asked to leave.

“Who is there?” Aegon finally seemed to notice someone else’s presence, but hadn’t actually looked up. His head remained in his hands, and you could hear him trying to quiet his cries.

“I am sorry, I— I just thought I should check on you.” You noticed how pathetic you sounded only after the words left your mouth.

He let out a humorless chuckle, then slowly stood up and made his way towards you. “Check up on me?”

You nodded. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. Stupid question to ask if you’re okay, I know.”

He studied your face for a moment, and his guard came down ever so slightly. He believed your concern to be genuine. And for Gods sakes, his own mother couldn’t even comfort him. She left quietly and Aegon knew it was in the hopes that he wouldn’t know she’d ever entered the room.

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to answer you. Instead he returned to his sitting position, once again leaning forward so that his head was in his hands.

“I should’ve been there,” he spoke so softly that you didn’t quite hear him.

“Pardon?”

He looked up at you, fresh tears in his eyes. “I should’ve been there!” When he saw how you flinched, he regretted being so loud. But a larger part of him didn’t care. You were the first person to allow him to speak freely. He needed to let out his emotions somewhere. “I should have been there. But I thought who’d be stupid enough to try anything here? Look at how wrong I was.”

“There’s nothing you could’ve done,” you shook your head.

“That is bullshit!” He stood up and began pacing back and forth. “My son is DEAD! It was an act of revenge, why else do you think the rest of you were left alive?”

You were about to ask if they already know who is responsible, but it’s as if he read your mind.

“My brother kills her son, so she has taken it upon herself to exact revenge, a son for a son!” He laughs, but again there is no humor in his tone. “My son, the heir to the throne, he is gone. Murdered while he slept and I did nothing!”

As he sat crying, you kneeled in front of him. Trying not to think about it too much, you placed your hands on his and forced him to look at you.

“Everyone around knows how much you love that boy. And he loved you just as much.” You decided it was better to not repeat that he couldn’t have done anything. Right now in front of you, was a father who needed to grieve.

Aegon knew he should be cautious. His sister knew you well, but he did not. He was already ashamed that you’ve seen him cry. Yet you didn’t seem repulsed. You allowed him to rant and didn’t try to shove advice down his throat. His son was gone, but you reminded him of the love that existed, that still exists.

The angry part of him wanted to shout at you to leave, but he couldn’t bring himself to yell again in that moment. So he allowed your hands to remain on his as he cried for his son.

You prayed that no one would walk in, as you stood up and pulled Aegon up with you. Before he could ask what was happening, you gave him a hug.

His first instinct was again, one of anger. He resisted the brief urge to push you away. After a few seconds, he even surprised himself when he almost melted into your touch. He genuinely couldn’t remember the last time he was in someone else’s embrace like this. And you didn’t ask questions. You only held him and listened to his heartbeat.

He found himself crying again as he returned the gesture and wrapped his arms around you. Although he knew he could never speak of this, and he’d have to ask that you not do the same at some point, he allowed himself to do nothing but mourn the loss of his son as you held him in your arms, and you in his.

He was grateful that at least in this moment, you allowed him to grieve.

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

TWO.

After that, there was a noticeable change. Aegon gravitated towards you if he entered a room and you were already there. Everyone noticed, but none dared to speak on the matter, not even Alicent or Otto.

You heard about the meeting in which it was ultimately decided that Jaehaerys’ body would be placed on a carriage led through the streets, so that the public might see just what Queen Rhaenyra was capable of. You didn’t think this was her doing. How could a mother who has just lost her son, inflict that pain onto someone else? Surely she wouldn’t. But everyone else was so sure. And you were but a low-born lady in waiting, so you remained silent.

The thought of Jaehaerys being used, paraded through the streets for all to gawk at, it angered you. Yes, he was a prince. And you understood the message that they hoped it would send, but it didn’t make you any less upset. He was just a boy. You thought of the boy who would run into your embrace whenever you walked in to his mothers chambers.

You couldn’t even imagine how Aegon was feeling. He loved that boy deeply, and you had no doubt that he was pressured into agreeing.

That same night, you were abruptly woken up. Immediately you looked to Helaena’s bed, filled with relief to see her and Jaehaera fast asleep. But it alarmed you that it was Ser Criston Cole of all people, who’d woken you up.

He put a finger to his lips, then turned and exited the room. You made sure you looked at least half decent before you followed him, wondering what on earth possessed him to wake you at such an hour.

“I—” He looked unsure of where to start.

“Has something happened?”

“It’s the King.” He didn’t wait for you to respond, instead turning and practically running out of the room.

As you chased after him, it did occur to you that it was odd for him to fetch the King’s sisters ladies’ in waiting. You also realized that he never technically responded when you asked if something happened.

When the 2 of you finally reached Aegon’s chambers, Criston didn’t even open the door. He didn’t need to though, you could hear the shouting and loud noises from outside.

“Who else is in there?” You fiddled with your hands, unsure of what you were walking into.

Criston merely shook his head. “No one. He kicked everyone out. But I know you helped him that— that night. Can you…?”

Without giving it a second thought, you nodded. Instead of leaving, Criston sort of stood guard right outside the door. You’d seen Aegon angry before, and were secretly relieved that he was outside should anything go wrong.

This time, you didn’t bother knocking. You did, however, try to open and then close the door as quietly as possible.

“I declare war!” It was the first thing you heard since entering the room, and you didn’t bother asking who he was declaring war on.

“My King —”

It was as if he was in a sort of angry trance. You speaking didn’t even cause him to look in your direction.

“I want them all dead! They’ll all pay for this, every fucking one of them!” As he spoke, he moved about the room destroying King Viserys’ carefully and meticulously constructed display.

You could see he needed to let his anger out. And didn’t exactly want to approach him while he held something that could hurt you. Not that he intentionally would, but seeing as he had no reaction to you calling out to him, you didn’t think it wise to sneak up on him.

As the smashing and destruction went on, you could see Aegon begin to wear himself out. It wasn’t so much that the anger was leaving his body, but rather that he was losing the energy to continue. Now, you thought to yourself, was a good time to gauge where he’s at mentally / emotionally.

“My King—” you tried again. This would be a moment you’d come to regret, seeing as you hadn’t considered the fact that Aegon was so blinded by his rage that he hadn’t noticed it was you in the room. Sure he heard the doors open and close, but he assumed it had been one of his men.

Not registering who it was that just spoke, and only hearing that someone was interrupting his rampage, he turned around with an arm swung out. It ended up being sort of a backhanded slap, and unfortunately he was wearing a ring.

Once he realized it was you that he’d just harmed, Aegon froze. His eyes widened and he immediately dropped to his knees.

“Are you hurt? Did I— did I…” He didn’t seem to know what he wanted to ask.

You put a hand to your cheek and examined your fingers, nothing a small amount of blood. He hit almost exactly where you were cut, and by the feel of it you guessed that his hit reopened the wound.

“It’s fine,” you tried to reassure him. “I am sure I will be healed in no time. There is no need—” Before you could finish speaking, he’d fled from the room, but not before hurriedly asking you to stay put.

Only a short while later he returned with the maester quickly following behind him.

As the man tended to your face, you could practically see the gears turning in his head as he debated on speaking. In the end, he decided to ask the question.

“How did you manage to reopen this wound?”

Luckily for you, you’d studied the room and had your answer prepared.

You pointed to a spot on the floor where a glass of wine lay spilt. “I slipped just there. Tried to steady myself and ended up landing on my face and cutting it with one of the broken pieces.”

Because you spoke immediately and with such confidence, your lie was believed.

“Might not heal as well if it’s opened a third time. Still doesn’t need stitches, just try not to fall again, eh?” He gave you a pat on the shoulder before giving you a small jar of ointment to apply to the cut, instructing you to apply it once a day.

As soon as the man left the room, you studied Aegon. He was pacing the entire time, only stopping once the maester had left.

“Why?” He whispered.

You knew what he was asking. “I did not think it would do any good for him to know the truth. I know you didn’t mean to,” you shrugged.

He was almost in a state of shock. Here he’d just injured you, accidentally, sure, but it was still done in anger. And it wasn’t that long ago that he broke down in front of you. Despite all of that, you were still kind to him. You covered for him.

Aegon fell to his knees once again in front of a large portion of the mess he created. “I’m sorry,” he spoke softly.

“My King you do not need to apologize. As I said, I know it wasn’t on purpose.”

He looked up at you, fresh tears in his eyes, and you lost count on how many times your heart broke for him. You joined him on the floor, and put what you hoped was a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I can’t do anything right,” the first tear fell, but he didn’t bother wiping it away. “I allowed men to break in and murder my son, and this is twice now you’re hurt because of me.”

The fact that he blamed himself for it still, brought tears to your eyes as well.

“No one thinks this was your doing, and I swear to you that I don’t blame you.”

He was silent for a moment, deep in thought. “How am I meant to continue?”

His question caught you off guard. “Pardon?”

“My son is dead. Murdered, and my dear sister that claims to be the rightful heir may not have held the knife but I know she commanded the men that did. How am I supposed to to sit on the throne and continue to rule as if none of this has happened?”

“I do not think anyone expects you to act as if nothing has happened —”

Hearing that caused Aegon to laugh. “Have you met my mother? She is one of the many against me declaring war.”

“This tragedy —”

He cuts you off once again. “Tragedy? Hah! Understatement of the fucking year. And people are already speaking about my sons murder as if it’s a lesson! My grandfather, dear old Otto Hightower, wants to parade my sons body for all to see. Says it will show them the kind of Queen that Rhaenyra really is. You should’ve seen how many nodded their heads in agreement. How do I just hand him over to be stared at, as if he is no more than a piece of meat on display at the market?”

“I hate this,” you finally get a chance to speak. “Jaehaerys was the sweetest little boy I kno—knew. And I wish his death wasn’t being used in this way. A tragedy should not always be a lesson. Sometimes it should be allowed to be just that, a tragedy. I am truly sorry you are having to deal with all of this.”

Something about what you’ve said causes tears to spring to Aegon’s eyes. Perhaps it’s the way you speak so kindly of his son. He knows you genuinely loved the boy, after all. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” His quiet sobs begin as he echoes your use of those 2 words, and when you turned to face him, he practically falls into your embrace. You stop counting how many times he utters I’m sorry. In between the I’m sorry’s, he mostly said his sons name, but you heard your name as well as Helaena and Jaehaera’s.

Night turned into morning and Aegon finds himself in your arms once again. Eventually his sobs had slowed down, and he fell asleep, laying on the hard floor with his head in your lap.

As he slept, you allowed yourself to run your hands through his hair, just for a moment. Aegon let out a content sigh, finding comfort in your movements even in his sleep.

Here was this boy who was feared by many, who didn’t ever want anyone to see him as weak, and yet twice he allowed himself to cry and grieve in front of you.

At some point, you gently wake Aegon and convince him to get into bed.

As you take one last look at him before exiting his chambers, you can’t help but silently hope that the future would be a little kinder to him.

TAGLIST — @blupblupfish | @sapphirest0nes

If you’d like to be tagged in future Aegon pieces, let me know!

[rinnsverse]

COMPARISON — scar

You know Scar, and you know why he’s so obsessed with this ‘Rover’ character — he’s told you why, but why does it still hurt watching him act as if he was a lovesick puppy to them?

contains: established relationship, the relationship is lowk toxic, jealousy, insecurity, rovers gender is left ambiguous, canon-ish, swearing, angst, short fic

a/n: scar is so pretty omg; also the lack of scar x reader content is CRIMINAL

‘IT’S JUST FOR the mission, it’s just for the mission,’ is what you kept on repeatedly telling yourself in your mind, but it really doesn’t look like it from your side.

You can tell that this ‘Rover’ is prone to noticing the little things and figuring out everything with just one piece of the puzzle, so you decide that it’s best to keep your distance from the matter at hand occurring in the village.

The conversation they were both having was being played clearly in your ear — a hidden microphone on Scar’s waist, his idea, not yours. He offered up this idea as a way to assure you nothing special was happening, but you wish you would’ve never accepted it in the first place.

Hearing the words Scar say would’ve been sweet, if only they were directed towards you. You weren’t dumb, you could hear the flirtatious undertone in his voice as he spoke to them.

Swallowing thickly, you take a look at the picture given to you previously as to what Rover’s appearance was like; suddenly Scar’s words made more sense in your head.

Their dark hair was disheveled but still managed to look effortlessly good on them; did Scar ever think of you that way whenever he saw you get out of bed? Their clothes complimenting their natural appearance beautifully; did the red and white of your clothes really suit you?

It took you years to achieve what you have with Scar now, but Rover was able to see and receive genuine interest from Scar in just a matter of moments.

Just listening in on their conversation felt like you were the one interrupting something, like you were third-wheeling your own boyfriend, as if you were a side piece in your own relationship.

Embarrassing.

“Huh?” you audibly let out, tapping your earpiece with your gloved finger multiple times. Only the sound of static could be heard. “Shit.”

Scrambling for your binoculars in your messenger bag, you shuffle them out and life them to your eyes to see what has occurred in the village below. Narrowing your eyes, you see that Rover had skillfully disabled the microphone on Scar’s waist with their blade.

“Of course,” you scoff out, dropping your binoculars back in your bag and proceeding to walk away from the scene.

Your terminal beeps and lights up and you pause, seeing that Phrolova had called you. “Leaving so soon?”

Huffing out a sigh at her words, “I see no point in staying.”

Humming in thought for a moment, she merely says, “Alright, go on then.”

The soil beneath your feet crunches underneath you with droplets wetting them at the same time; the sky is clear today.

SCAR’S EYES WIDENED at the sound of the mic clattering onto the ground, falling from his waist. “Well, aren’t you good? I thought you wouldn’t notice it so soon.”

“And I thought you said you didn’t want anybody else intruding on our conversation, seems kind of hypocritical to have a microphone attached at your hip,” they taunt.

“Perhaps,” he shrugs, burying down the feeling in his stomach. “But they too, were special to me, I just wanted to share a conversation with two very special people, and what’s the matter with that?”

“So they’re special to you?” they raised a brow, suddenly interested in the newfound topic raised.

Scar laughed at their attempt to get him to reveal information about himself, but he would never put you in jeopardy like that — never in a thousand years. “Did I say that?

“Well, it’s not like you’ll ever get to find out any time soon,” he stomps on the already broken microphone, smashing it to pieces.

Rover simply rolled their eyes, “Just give me back Yanyang so we can be done with already, I’m bored of your story.”

“And here I thought that we already established,” Scar took a few strides forward, “That you aren’t in the position to bargain.”

Unbeknownst to Scar, you had left your earpiece in, the sound of static becoming wonderful white noise to you. The unfortunate part was that you could only hear a few bits and pieces of their conversation out of context.

“…were special—“ were? What does he mean by that? Why is he using past tense? Is he saying that to fuck with them or because he thinks you can’t hear him anymore? Or are you just reading to far into it?

“..two very special people—“ it should only be one, shouldn’t there? Is he saying that Rover’s already as important — if not more important than you?

Harshly taking out your earpiece, you throw it into the dirt. Unable to let out a frustrated scream you let your anger out through crushing the earpiece under your foot.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you glare back down at the shattered earpiece beside you. Rubbing the corners of your eyes, you begin to walk away, “The white noise wasn’t even that good anyways.”

a/n: not my best work — obviously — since i wrote this in an hour, on my phone, with fake nails. but i was feeling like shit so i dumped it all here, sorry kinda sorry

[iiseult]

Hello, I was wondering what the life of the female reader would be like when King Baldwin was not a leper. I mean, what would their life be like together as a married couple?

𝐵𝒶𝓁𝒹𝓌𝒾𝓃 𝐼𝒱 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈: 𝒩𝑜𝓃-𝓁𝑒𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝐸𝒹𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃

CWs → fluff, smut, probable historical inaccuracies, she/her pronouns, afab reader, mentions of religion, childbirth

Note: I know this took like over a month to get to, but in my defense I was working on completing the first arc of my multichapter Baldwin x reader fic. Also, if anyone’s interested, I started posting an alternate version of that on ao3 that’s in third person and from the perspective of a girl named Semele. As far as actual writing goes I think it’s much better quality simply because I don’t have to do all that corny second person bullshit or use the words “Y/N.” That’s a real pain in my ass. Anyway! 

Wordcount: 852

King Baldwin’s standards are high. He is a gorgeous young man with the world at his fingertips and he wants a woman, not a girl, to explore it with him. 

She must be good. She does not need to be rich or noble, but she needs to be selfless and kind and bold. And he needs someone who can match him in intellect so he doesn’t get bored. 

His hair frames his face in charming golden waves that fall to about his chin. His eyes are a deep cerulean, lined by long lashes, and his lips are pink and shapely, if a bit on the thin side. The nose is strong and straight, the jaw is square and sharp, the cheekbones are high and structured, and the skin covering it all is smooth and healthy. A light smattering of tiny freckles paint his nose and cheeks. His body is strong, with substantial broad shoulders, and what muscle he has is subtle but genuine. 

Sometimes his movements are awkward, a little different from other well-bred boys his age, and perhaps that’s what makes him so appealing. So mysterious. And, by the way, he certainly is appealing. 

Every woman that lays eyes on him, and even some that have never had that honor and know of him only from word of mouth, want him. Every woman thinks she can somehow be good enough for him. Of course, maybe one in one thousand of them actually is. 

When a lady finally catches his eye, it would be for her wit or her bravery. Perhaps she would beat him in a game of chess, or speak out against what she thinks is wrong. The more cruelty in her smile, the more attractive she becomes. 

When he proposes, it’s very romantic, very personal, and above all, very private. Though he surely makes the experience memorable for his future wife, he doesn’t do anything over-the-top. It does not involve other people, and perhaps it doesn’t even take place at a particular spot. The most important part of the proposal, after all, is the words he is speaking, the vow he is making. He puts his silver tongue to good use, so that saying no isn’t even an option anymore. How could she possibly turn him down? 

 He can’t wait to get his hands on her. The wedding night is something he has long been looking forward to, knowing that it would be worth it to wait for the right woman, and of course, it exceeds his expectations. How could he have guessed how soft, how supple her flesh would feel beneath him? How sweet and yielding? There was nothing that could have prepared him for the feeling of warmth that wholly enveloped him the first time they made love. It was something that could never be recreated by his own hand. It could only ever occur by the soft hand, or the cruel, relentless lips of his young wife. 

His body is young and robust, as is hers, and they are both brimming with passion and want. The first month of the marriage is spent mostly alone together, trapped in an endless cycle of tiring each other out, sleeping, waking, and doing the whole damned thing all over again. It would take no time at all for the seed to be planted in her fertile womb and a baby to begin to grow. 

Seeing his wife pregnant would only make him fall in love with her more, if such a thing were even possible. Now she is carrying a little miracle inside her, and to him, the world around her positively glows. He is, in a word, infatuated. So proud. He takes her into town and practically parades her around, the curve of her swollen belly growing more and more obvious under the fabric of her gown. Isn’t she beautiful, he would say to Raymond, and to Sybilla, and to anyone else who was unlucky enough to engage him in conversation. 

During the birth, he stayed by her side. He was the one to wipe the sweat from her forehead with damp towels, to hold her hand and cry softly from seeing her in such pain. He loves her so much, and he was going to love that baby, too. He was going to positively spoil it. That is, if it didn’t kill her! He cries more than she does during the birth, and though he does everything he can to ease her pain and help the midwife speed along the process, mostly he can do nothing but stand around and wring his hands and look helplessly at his love, his eyes swimming with wild fear and affection and awe. She’s so strong, how is she doing it? 

Once the baby is born, though the sheets of her bed are soiled with various fluids, he lays down next to his wife and holds her in his arms and she holds their baby in her arms, and they all sleep, a perfect family. The baby is going to look just like her, he thinks, and he will love it. 

[slamdunkhcs]

Found some of my older essays in my google docs… you guys are very lucky. This may or may not be the last post until my winter break (depending on if i find more old essays)

love in slam dunk

Slam Dunk is best known for its intense basketball action and character-driven storytelling, but it also features some of the most pure and heartfelt depictions of love in shōnen manga. The relationships between Ryota Miyagi and Ayako, as well as Hanamichi Sakuragi and Haruko Akagi, provide a fresh perspective on romance, one that diverts from over-the-top romance tropes common in the Shonen genre, instead opting for moments of emotional authenticity among the series’s main two couples.

Ryota Miyagi’s feelings for Ayako are sometimes loud or obvious, but they are undeniably genuine. Ryota admires Ayako not just for her beauty but for her maturity, intelligence, and leadership as the team’s manager. One memorable example occurs when Ayako scolds Ryota for his brashness during practice, and instead of becoming defensive or aggressive, he listens attentively and takes her words to heart. He even scolds the others to listen to her words. This shows the respect Ryota holds for her, not as an idealized love interest but as someone who inspires him to be better.

What makes their dynamic so refreshing is Ayako’s independence and confidence. She acknowledges Ryota’s admiration without being dismissive or overly accommodating.

Throughout the series, Ayako’s support for Ryota goes beyond her role as the team manager. During games, she often singles him out with specific advice and encouragement, such as reminding him to stay calm under pressure or praising his quick decisions.

These moments may seem small, but they show Ayako’s awareness of Ryota’s struggles and it is her own way of reciprocating his feelings. Ayako doesn’t openly express romantic affection, but her actions��like cheering him on when he feels overwhelmed—speak volumes about her care for him.

Their dynamic, where love is expressed through small, caring acts rather than overt declarations/gestures, reflects a level of maturity rare in shonen manga. Their relationship thrives on mutual respect and understanding, and it shows that love doesn’t always need to be dramatic to be meaningful.

Hanamichi Sakuragi’s love for Haruko Akagi is one of the driving forces behind his decision to join the basketball team, but it is far from a typical romance. His feelings for Haruko are pure and earnest, fueled by admiration for her kindness and enthusiasm for the sport. What makes their dynamic unique is how Haruko inspires Hanamichi to grow—not by demanding it, but simply by believing in his potential.

Another thing sets their dynamic apart is how Hanamichi’s love is portrayed not as an obsessive or idealized fantasy, but as an innocent longing for connection. This innocence is most evident in Hanamichi’s fantasy of what it would mean to have a girlfriend. Unlike typical shonen protagonists, whose romantic aspirations might revolve around physical attraction or “weird” scenarios, Hanamichi’s dream is simply to walk a girl to and from school. This vision is strikingly pure and reflective of the awkward, genuine feelings of a teenager experiencing love for the first time. It is a big contrast to many shonen, which often sexualize their female characters or present romance in a way that feels transactional

Haruko, for her part, never mocks or diminishes Hanamichi’s feelings. While she is unaware of his crush, she consistently treats him with kindness and encourages his growth. A memorable example is when she praises Hanamichi for staying late to practice his shooting, showing that she values his effort and determination. Though Haruko’s heart belongs to Rukawa, her warmth and encouragement play a massive role in Hanamichi’s journey toward self discovery.

What makes Hanamichi and Haruko’s relationship so compelling is its emotional weight. Hanamichi’s crush is not rewarded with a confession or a dramatic romantic arc, but it serves as a catalyst for his personal growth. By channeling his love for Haruko into his newfound passion for basketball, Hanamichi discovers a sense of purpose and self-worth. Their relationship captures the awkwardness and uncertainty of teenage infatuation while showing how love, even unrequited, can push someone to be their best self.

In many shonen series, romantic subplots are rife with clichés. Female characters are often reduced to idealized figures or comic relief, while male protagonists are rewarded with their love interests after overcoming obstacles that have little to do with the relationship itself. In contrast, Slam Dunk grounds its romances in simple, yet authentic moments. Ryota’s admiration for Ayako and Hanamichi’s earnest crush on Haruko feel more like reflections of real human relationships than formulaic storylines.

For example, Ryota doesn’t win Ayako’s heart by performing some dramatic act; instead, his feelings are expressed through his consistent respect for her and the way he values her advice. Similarly, Hanamichi’s love for Haruko isn’t the reason he succeeds in basketball, but it serves as a gentle nudge toward discovering his own passion and discipline. These relationships are not about conquering or achieving love—they are about learning, growing, and connecting on a deeper level.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

You might’ve already received an ask like this, but I think it’s interesting how similar Malleus and what we see of Maleanor(I think that’s how you spell her name) are. I mean they are mother and son they’re obviously going to be similar, but specifically I find it interesting that they have almost the exact same arrogance.

When reacting to the threat of the Silver Owls and S.T.Y.X’s forces respectively, both the previous princess and the current prince treat it like more of an annoyance than a real threat. The thought that they could genuinely lose doesn’t even seem to cross their mind, I mean in all fairness Maleanor does acknowledge the idea that she might lose but I doubt she really feels scared in the moment.

There isn’t much to this ask, I just think it’s interesting and might be some foreshadowing on how Malleus’ arrogance is going to lead to his downfall.

This isn’t exactly the same thing, but this ask also compares and contrasts Malleus with his mother under the scope of “maturity”.

Arrogance is a natural consequence of anyone having power, especially for a family as powerful as the Draconias. It often doesn’t occur to those at the top that they could fall from grace. In other cases, it’s ignorance as the result of never wanting and thus having a limited understanding of the world beyond their small insulated one. (This is the case for Kalim.)

I think the circumstances you described aren’t exactly equivalent so it’s somewhat limited to directly compare mother and son. Malleus already knows what Styx is (thanks to Lilia) and suspects they aren’t after him (because why would they be at this point in the story??). This is confirmed in one of Malleus’s dialogue lines: “No wonder they didn’t come after me.” Maleanor, meanwhile, is facing a significant foreign threat and knows she has a target on her back, since she leads the military forces. She also has a lot more riding on her shoulders if she fails, considering she has both her country and her newborn son to think about.

But I think your general point is still valid; Malleus and Maleanor are arrogant because their immense power affords them this luxury. It’s a vulnerability they share as mother and son, but I also think that they differ due to their ages and the eras in which they grew up.

Maleanor had to be strong and resilient because she lived in a period of time when mages (and fae in particular) seemed to still be feared. Malleus has a lot less life experience but he also lives in an era of relative peace. He does not need to be as alert as his mother was, and has yet to face any real national-level threat. Thus, Malleus is more arrogant because he has yet to be challenged to the same degree his mother was.

I would say that Maleanor is still arrogant (she clearly still feels comfortable making demands of Lilia and throwing fits when she doesn’t get her way), that much is true. However, she also has lived long enough to gain far more wisdom and experience than Malleus has. When you’re a child, you feel as though nothing can touch you. When you’re an adult (as Maleanor is), you’re aware of many more factors which could topple you.

We can’t be certain how she really felt about the Silver Owls storming her country, but I get the sense that Maleanor realized she was in danger and only put on a brave face because she’s such an important public figure. That’s where her arrogance comes in; she can’t afford to let that slip. If she shows weakness, it doesn’t exactly reassure her people, who are already very stressed. She has already seen many of her soldiers fall on top of her husband (someone whom she loves deeply) going missing. These are prominent reminders to her that fae, no matter how powerful or influential they are, can be ended. Maleanor also speaks in a manner which implies she is fully willing to make that ultimate sacrifice; she hands her child to Lilia and instructs him to guard her son in her stead, then casts a spell which prevents Lilia from running to her side to fight with her. It makes me feel like she knows she’s essentially marching to her death. She didn’t want to get her dear friend and son caught up in that, so she sent them on their way while she stayed behind.

So in a way, Malleus and Maleanor’s arrogance is paralleled rather than being the exact same. The inexperienced son is still riding the high of being untouchable, while the mother, knowing that her time had come, wasn’t willing to go down without a fight. Slightly different circumstances, as I’ve said—but it’s still interesting to see how the traits of the parent persist in their child, and how that may indicate how Malleus develops moving forward.

[nixthelapin]

A Jekyll&Hyde type akuma whose power is to bring out a hidden or repressed part of your personality (but like, making two of you instead of switching in one body), and when Chat gets hit suddenly there’s both “normal” Chat (I’ll get to that in a sec) and Cat Walker/Patte de Velours at the same time.

(Cue Ladybug freaking out upon learning they’re the same person)

“Normal” Chat looks the same, but is just a bit more intense (since this is Adrien’s way of “letting loose” to not be how he is as a civilian, he’s not too different, but because of the split he does lose some usual traits). I.e. *heavily* flirting with LB, going at it with the puns, more agressive and impulsive with the akuma, doesnt like following orders (especially with the remaining feelings of anger towards the partnership being put further into question as LB prefers CW), heart on his sleeve

Cat Walker is also not super different to the episode he was in, but is also more intense thanks to the akuma: all business- no nonsense, doesn’t laugh at jokes (even in a “I’ll laugh if you want” way, like in Kuroneko), cordial to LB, follows LB’s orders to a T (to the point of not making his own decisions in battle), calm and collected (almost emotionless, even with that plastered smile)

CN starts to hate CW as the fight goes on, because LB seems to prefer him (and she’s understandably getting annoyed with CN’s impulsivity). CN gets territorial, saying that he’s LB’s partner. CW: “then why did she replace you with me?” (Man, look at all the self hatred in Adrien’s psyche!)

So CN runs off and leaves them alone to fight the akuma. This ticks LB off even more, but she has an akuma to deal with- and she has CW- so she lets him go.

As the fight goes on, some of the same issues from Kuroneko occur, so she also gets frustrated with CW too.

Since he’s acting more extreme than normal (more like someone awaiting orders than a partner due to the Jekyll&Hyde thing), it causes more problems (like him waiting for her decisions leaving openings where he could’ve done something proactive)

She actually blows up at him, asking why he didn’t do anything (“I was waiting for you to tell me the plan!”), and she says he should be able to think on his own, he doesn’t need her to tell him everything, but- “I thought I was just being what you wanted.”

(He’s shocked and genuinely hurt- though it’s still pretty quiet emotion, subdued and apologetic)

And that’s when it clicks for her what becoming CW was back in Kuroneko. He was molding himself for her. And this version of CW is even more of that. She realizes just how much CN suppresses, not just for her, but for everyone- why else would this be a major aspect of his personality?

(Also, Patte de Velours? Velvet Paw? That’s basically saying he’s been declawed. Yikes.)

She makes CN get his butt back to the fight (or she finds him- he may have been doing something while away like talking with someone, maybe Alya or Nino, or Luka). CN and CW argue more, with insults. Then she goes on a whole rant/lecture to them about how important they both are, both to her and to each other, how they are one person, and their traits are both important, but each extreme is not great. Ex: instinct/impulse and service/obedience (the key is self control, so that your emotions aren’t controlling you, but neither is another person). He is allowed to be both! Neither personality is bad, and hating one is just hating himself- he can’t just reject a fundamental part of himself.

She makes them agree to work together to defeat the akuma. It’s awkward at first, but they get a rhythm by seeing where each one is needed in the plan (LB does still do that, but how they follow is more fluid now). Two cataclysms now! Yay! (Maybe they used their powers already and have to de transform, and they see themselves as Adrien- the same one, not different, and it gets through their skulls. Idk I’m spitballing).

They have a quick talk between the two about accepting each other, it won’t be easy, I’m nervous, we’ll be okay (“yeah, I think we will :)”), etc.

Ends with them combining back with the ladybug cure. Surprise! His outfit is combined too! (Honestly, I just want the ponytail with the fluffy hair)

LB and CN have a talk after recharging about everything. CN apologizes for lying about CW and explains why and how he did it. LB didn’t realize how much he hid. She never meant for him to change or hate parts of himself. He thought she didn’t like the CN parts of him, but LB promises that isn’t true. She admits she did get… annoyed, but never hate! She loves both sides of him. Besides, CW didn’t work out that first time, remember? (Though she very much leaves out her intense crushing being the deciding factor there)

CN admits he feels more, well, not whole, exactly, he’s actually still pretty uncertain about what all this means for “who he is,” but… he can at least say he feels less like he has to perform all the time. He loves being Chat Noir, but he is exaggerating a bit when he transforms, in part to be not like his civilian life. He tells her he’s not like that as a civilian, but he’s also not like Cat Walker. But he’s not really sure who “he” is yet. (What I’m getting at is Oblivio!Adrien- dorky, but not over the top, in love, trusts his lady to make the plan, but is still proactive, etc.)

LB says that’s okay, he doesn’t have to figure it out right away. But she’ll be there to help him figure it out.

END

[lightlycareless]

imagine naoya leaving for work then comes naomi chasing after him with tears in her eyes because she knows she won’t see him for days.😭

HELLO!!!!

WELP MORE DOMESTIC STUFF ON THE WAY!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I love baby Naomi 😭 I wish it could be us Naoya and our baby happy together forever.

This has the same energy as when you and Naoya cry when realizing Naomi has to go to school or is at school and not home anymore 🤣 but omg this is such a dramatic moment in her life, the moment she realizes her papa isn't actually there most of the time, kept oblivious thanks to your consistent work of distracting her 😭 how dare we fool her?!

Anyways, here are the warnings: fluff. you have a daughter with naoya named naomi. she is smol... we need to protect her 🥺💖

Happy reading!

How you managed to keep the truth from Naomi for so long is something that has to be commended! Though your daughter’s innocence helped you a lot.

Naturally you felt bad for taking advantage of her naïveté, but it was genuinely the only way to prevent her from crying—alongside the video calls Naoya would always try to make back home: one in the morning during breakfast, another at lunch, and the last one before heading to bed.

Though it seemed that these calls were mostly made with Naoya’s benefit in mind, for the sight of Naomi's face lightening up upon hearing her dear papa's voice is one that always melted all his worries away, as well as anxious to return home.

So that, alongside your constant distraction of Naomi by bringing her with you to wherever you went, whether it being going from one side of the estate to the other to oversee your duties, or going out shopping with your staff, nobody could say your daughter was unattended—and subsequently, ignorant of her father’s absence.

Because of said things, the two thought of themselves to be very lucky to have such a well-behaved child, the envy of some in more ways than one!

Until she grew old enough to realize what was going on.

It was only inevitable, encouraged that she’d become conscious of her surroundings, which you began to notice when she started giving slightly more complex storylines to her dolls when playing with them… as silly as that might sound.

And while it was endearing to see her grow, it was also highly worrying, for you fretted about the kind of reaction she’d have when she finally acknowledges the reason why her father wasn’t around—an unprecedented event that occurred as followed.

As customary, you always made sure to either ask your staff to distract Naomi whenever you were off to bid your farewells to Naoya, or if his departure is happening at night, place her in bed, rocked to sleep by her papa before carefully sneaking out of the bedroom and meeting by the entrance.

Tonight, was to be the latter, with Naoya placing one last kiss on Naomi’s forehead as she snored softly, a sight that squeezed his heart, silently cursing his responsibilities and his supposed duty to the clan, collecting himself afterwards and heading over to your direction to get another spoonful of that same regret—why did he have to leave?

“When will you come back?” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his chest and holding him tightly against you, not wanting to let go.

“In a few weeks.” Naoya sighs, kissing the top of your head and resting his head above yours. “I hope Naomi doesn’t grow too much when I’m away.”

The slightest hesitation in your response is enough for Naoya to pursue the matter, placing his fingers underneath your chin and raising your gaze to his.

“What is it?”

“Oh, well—Naomi doesn’t fit in her onesies again; the ones I got her last month!” you respond. “…I fear that when you come back, she might not be as small as you remember.”

Naoya frowns.

There is one thing he hated from coming back home and that was realizing he’s missed out in his daughter’s growth—and for something as stupid as doing these lousy missions HQ couldn’t bother to assign to literally anyone else.

Though, in some ways, it was his fault. For he wanted to reassure his position as the future leader of the clan, prove that he was worthy, and apparently the only way to do so was to drown himself with work.

«It won’t be much longer» Is what he’d tell himself from time to time. «Everything I do is for my family’s wellbeing. To give them a life where they can be safe and happy.»

A life where the only things either would have to worry about is what stuffed animals to buy for Naomi, or where should they go for holiday next time he’s off work…

Or what to do with a curious baby girl that woke up earlier than anticipated, upset that her parents weren’t by her side, leading her to exit her bedroom and head towards the direction she hears them to be, all in the innocent quest for answers— coincidentally, her parent’s torment.

“Pa—pa! Mama!” Naomi coos upon seeing her parents, a wide smile on her chubby little face as she rushed to them, a sight that would’ve normally inspired the two to run to her in return and scoop her into their arms. But for now, only made you wonder how she managed to escape Mariya’s attention?! Wasn’t she supposed to keep an eye on her?!

“Pumpkin, you’re supposed to be asleep!” Naoya says, perhaps thinking Naomi would stop on her tracks and head back—or who knows?

But she ignores his words, diligently continuing her way to them until she was able to cling onto Naoya’s leg, lightly tugging at the fabric of his pants as if asking him to pick her up and pepper her with all the kisses he gives her whenever doing so.

And while Naomi doesn’t retaliate when you’re the one that gives her those gestures, it’s only when you slowly begin to separate her from her papa that the issues begin.

Naomi first attempts to break away from your embrace by pushing away, looking over to Naoya then back to you with a whine and pout that lets you know this isn’t what she wanted, nor is she open to negotiate.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping, mochi.” You say, hoping she’ll understand and stop moving. But she doesn’t, if anything she insists even more! “Naomi, you have to—"

“No!” she cries, shaking her head. “Want papa!”

Her disappointment doesn’t come until she sees Naoya’s lack of initiative, the unusually quiet, distant response to her calls that made her eyes tear up a bit.

But her heartbreak only occurs when you eventually resort to the thing the two probably should’ve done way before, and that is, telling her the truth.

“No, baby, you can’t have papa because, well, he has to leave.”

Naomi frowns, the last sliver of hope unwilling to give up just yet, as if skeptical of your words, believing you to be hiding the truth…

Until Naoya confirms it as well.

“I won’t be gone for long— I just gotta do some missions, I’ll be back before you even—”

“No!” Naomi shakes her head. “Papa no go!”

“I have to. It’s my job; you know I’m a sorcerer and—”

“No! You don’t—you don’t—leave…!”

And so, she weeps, pouring her small heart out with the most heart wrenching cries either have ever heard in their life—because they weren’t ones of hunger or displeasure. They were ones of sadness, upset that one of the most important people in her life is leaving, to return God knows when.

“Naomi…” you murmur, attempting to comfort her by resting her head against your shoulder, to no avail. It was clear what she wanted, who she wanted, so Naoya decides to take her from your arms and soothe her himself, which in reality only made her cry even more, as if realizing this is the last time he was going to hug her—for now.

“I won’t be gone for long, princess.” Naoya attempts to comfort her, pinching her cheek in the usual teasing way that always had her giggling—but she was too distraught to do anything else but cry.

She couldn’t be blamed, for Naomi was only a child that just began to understand that sometimes, her parents weren’t always going to be there by her side. There would be moments where they’d have to temporarily part ways to do other things, but that didn’t mean they didn’t love her. Or that she wouldn’t be ok.

Maybe this was the result of your over-endearing ways. Perhaps the two were simply too much for her, and this led her to have issues at the mere thought of either’s departure. You were always there for her, anyways, so why did it have to be different now?

“Princess, there’s nothing to cry about, you know I’ll always be here with you…”

“Pa…paaa—!” she gaps, tightly holding onto his shirt with an unprecedented strength that only serves to reflect how heartbroken she was by his words. “No go!”

And she’d continue to cry well into the following days. Soon after waking up, having tired herself out by her tears, when remembering her papa wasn’t there anymore, and wouldn’t be, not even if she searched all around the estate.

The once hilarious video calls, for Naomi thought her father had shrunk, were now nothing but a sad endeavor, accompanied by her sobs and quiet pleads of his quick return.

“I love you, little mochi. I only left because I needed to.” Naoya would always remind her. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Mnnno!” She shakes her head. “Come back!”

“If you promise to behave, I’ll take you to that park you like so much.” Her papa offers. “We’ll get all the sweets you want, and we’ll also go visit your grandpa. You like it when we go visit him, right? With auntie Hinata and uncle Ren.”

But Naomi doesn’t stop, showing him again and again that she doesn’t want any of those things—she just wants her father back and that’s it!

…

It would be the first thing Naoya wouldn’t be able to fulfill for his daughter, the same one that provided him with the much-needed reminder that being a parent is more than just giving everything to your children; it’s also preparing them for the surrounding world. Teaching them that some things are simply not meant to be and that it was ok.

While this change was initially painful, for no parent would ever want their child to suffer, as well as difficult because at the end of the day, Naomi was still a child, and thus, struggled to grasp certain subjects…

It was also very gratifying to observe Naomi grow up. See her do things that she couldn’t before, or perhaps never cared about, and help her overcome them. Because it reflected the love and care both had for their small family, and all that was yet to come.

Things that neither could wait to see happen, the realization of the amazing person she was always meant to be and supporting her every step of the way.

Ngl you and naoya were moved that she was that emotional about her father but at the same time you obviously didn't want her to cry. aaaaa parenthood is conflicting, but we love naomi nonetheless.

Thank you so much for sending in this ask!! I love writing about these small moments, it makes their dynamic so much more enjoyable. I hope to get to write about Naomi's first day of school soon!!!

Until then, take care, and hope to see you soon 🥰💖

[theunsinkableship1]

LUKOLA FANDOM: The bad and the ugly

DISCLAIMER: This is LUKOLALAND only. Skip this if you're not a shipper. This is only my point of view. No harm intended

Luke

Luke has recently found himself at the center of an undeserved hate campaign. Luke is not only a talented actor but also a genuinely kind and down-to-earth person. Those who know him personally often speak highly of his warmth, and strong work ethic. His colleagues frequently commend his positive attitude on set, his dedication to his craft, and his ability to bring a nuanced, relatable charm to his characters.

Despite this, Luke has been unfairly criticized for a range of baseless reasons. One of the most prominent accusations involves "Papgate," where he was allegedly involved in a publicity stunt that some claim detracted from the show's success. However, it's important to recognize that Luke has always been committed to the success of Bridgerton. As a professional, he understands the importance of the show's reputation and would never intentionally jeopardize it. A professional PR team would never have advised Luke to engage in such a stunt, especially given that there was no pressing need or benefit in doing so, after all, the hard launch has yet to occur. It's clear that Luke genuinely admires his good pal Nicola and values their relationship too much to have intentionally ruined their night. The lack of evidence to support these accusations further highlights the unfair nature of this criticism. His hard work and talent should be celebrated, not overshadowed by baseless accusations.

Another point of contention has been Luke's personal life, with some fans unfairly speculating and judging his choices. However, Luke, like anyone, has the right to live his life privately and without undue scrutiny. We might raise an eyebrow at some of Luke's associations and choices, but that's something we can ponder in the privacy of our Lukolaland without spreading negativity. Luke wasn’t jobless; he was taking a well-deserved vacation after months of hard work with his friends before returning to work in August, just like many do. There's nothing out of the ordinary here. It’s important to remember that we don’t have all the details, so we shouldn’t be quick to judge without knowing the full story. I trust that both Luke and Nicola will navigate this situation wisely and come through just fine. He has conducted himself with integrity, and the assumptions made about his relationships are purely speculative and often harmful. It’s wrong to attack him, his family and friends.

Luke Newton is a promising young actor with a bright future ahead of him. Beyond his undeniable talent, he is known for his kindness, and humility. Luke has always been a good-looking guy, though attraction is subjective. If he’s not your type, that’s fine, but many others do find him attractive, and it doesn’t make sense to broadcast your disinterest across Lukolaland. If you’re not a fan, simply move on without trying to ruin it for others. What truly matters is the work he’s done. Luke plays Colin with skill, bringing depth, relevance, and nuance to the role, with a performance that is both detailed and deeply empathetic. If his performance wasn’t to your taste, feel free to critique it constructively, but keep the focus on his acting. Luke is talented, passionate, and generous, and those who know him appreciate and love him for that. Even his Barbie, I mean-his costar, Nicola has nothing but kind words to say about him. While fans may have opinions, it is important to approach these with empathy and respect, rather than extending unwarranted criticism.

Nicola

I've come across articles and comments that unfairly critique Nicola’s appearance, suggesting she isn’t attractive enough due to her so-called "average" or "oversized" body. The only thing average about her body is that it fits an average size. Let's set the record straight: Nicola is neither fat nor skinny, she’s simply herself. And let's stop equating body size with beauty. Fat people can be stunning, just as skinny people can be less so; it's a fact of life. To claim she doesn't meet certain standards of beauty is not only incorrect but downright absurd. Have you seen her? She is a definition of beauty, both inside and out. Her radiance is undeniable, fitting most conventional beauty standards effortlessly with her baby blue eyes. She embodies all the qualities we value collectively in terms of feminine beauty and her body is a Roman empire.

While you might not personally be attracted to her, that view is far from the majority. Nicola outshines 99% of the population, and among the remaining 1%, she’s in the top tier, thanks to the beauty that comes from within. Her intelligence, brightness, and wisdom add to her allure, making her truly captivating. It's absurd to claim that Luke isn't attracted to Nicola simply because she doesn't fit someone's narrow idea of "his type." Attraction is highly personal and goes far beyond superficial traits. Luke and Nicola share an evident deep connection that likely transcends physical appearance, focusing more on personality, shared values, and mutual respect. Moreover, the idea that Luke wouldn’t be attracted to someone as radiant, talented, and charming as Nicola is equally baseless, if anything, she embodies qualities that many find irresistibly attractive. And we have no definitive idea of what "his type" is as both of his exes looked different and the only trait that they have in common is that they’re attractive talented genuine and kind women who are actresses; Its therefore not wrong to assume that Nicola could fit that description and not the contrary. Just as some may assume Nicola isn't his type, the reverse could be just as true, maybe she is not attracted to tall, dark and handsome men with a remarkable shade of blue eyes, which only underscores how irrelevant these superficial judgments are. Nicola is human, at least I think that she is, and like all of us, she might make mistakes. But unlike many, she is thoughtful and deliberate in her life choices. Nicola has every right to choose her own partner, and while we may wish otherwise, that decision is hers alone. She’s independent and career-driven, and she’s certainly not desperately waiting around for just anyone, only for the one who truly makes a difference in her life. That’s likely why she hasn’t publicly claimed anyone yet. Thankfully, we can trust her judgment, as she knows best who brings happiness and adds value to her life.

Tifaine

Within the Lukola fandom, some creators have been unfairly attacked for their dedication and hard work. Tifaine, in particular, has faced criticism despite her contributions to the community. While it may seem unusual to outsiders that grown people dedicate so much time to shipping real people, it is essential to understand that this community is built on love and admiration, not harm. The only people who have the right to criticize this are Luke and Nicola themselves, and they have expressed appreciation for the support they receive from fans. If Nicola or Luke ever express discomfort or a desire to reassess those boundaries, most of us would comply or, would stop because, contrary to popular belief, we are functioning adults with full lives.

Tifaine's work in the fandom has been invaluable, and while disagreements may arise, it is important to recognize the effort and passion she brings to the community.She has certainly sacrificed time, money for the cause and she puts herself out there which attracts a lot of negativity. Based on my understanding, she was merely presenting facts mostly well-known and non-detrimental ones that do not undermine what’s happening between the two leads. She has consistently shown that she cares deeply for both of them and genuinely wishes for their success, whether individually or together. I trust her intentions and appreciate the significant effort she has put into her work, which is far from negligible. Her dedication is commendable, and her contributions have helped create a space where fans can come together to celebrate the love and success of Luke and Nicola.

In conclusion, I believe that the recent wave of negativity in the community is both unwarranted and harmful and frankly quite counterproductive. And if none of them is above criticism, it is crucial to remember that behind the screens they are real people deserving of respect and kindness. As fans, our role should be to support and uplift, not tear down. By fostering a community built on love and understanding, we can ensure that the fandom remains a positive and welcoming space.

[wingdingery]

ohhhh i always have requests! quite fond of lil drabble ideas: bruce teaching dick to dance and (years later when they’re together) they recreating some of their first dances, slade being the one to gift dick his first leather jacket that he still regularly wears, An Event Occurs and in the aftermath dick realizes how irreplaceable he is to bruce and just how much bruce both loves him and needs him, bruce and dick’s undercover aliases that keep getting more and more romantic over the years

In Dick’s experience, returning to his apartment after a week away and finding a mysterious box on the coffee table that was definitely not there when he left is, usually, not actually a big deal.

He’s still careful—the little Batman that lives in the back of his head would never give him a moment of peace if he wasn’t—but he’s just very aware of the fact that, nine times out of ten, the not-so-little Batman is the one breaking in and leaving little treats for him to find later, because Bruce is deathly allergic to seeing people’s reactions to his gifts in real-time.

Dick runs through the standard checks, but nothing sounds or smells off, and nothing pings as suspicious on infrared or the particulate detector. He steps closer to inspect the box. It’s rectangular, all white, and generally unremarkable except for the fact that he didn’t put it there.

Carefully, he lifts the lid. He’s expecting some kind of gear—it wouldn’t be the first time a new suit or toys showed up unannounced.

What he finds is a leather moto jacket.

He gently lifts it out of the box and stares at it, bemused. It’s very nice—genuine Italian leather by the feel of it, black with silver hardware and diagonal pockets in the shape of a V, and just his size. There’s no note of any kind, but when he sniffs the leather, he also gets a whiff of maple and gun oil—and that feels like a signature in and of itself.

Dick pulls out his phone, dials in the number from memory, and sinks into the couch as it rings. 

“Happy birthday,” Slade says when he picks up, voice low and rumbling.

Dick suppresses a smile. “You’re late.”

“I was busy.”

“Doing what?”

“You really wanna know the answer to that?”

Dick bites the inside of his cheek and fiddles with the zipper of the jacket. They’ve been getting along all right ever since they’d been forced to team up on the cruise ship from hell, but still, a little plausible deniability goes a long way, between them. “How long ‘til I find out on my own?”

“Now that depends,” Slade says, drawing out the words. “You still talking to Rose?”

Dick blinks. “You were visiting Rose?”

“Something like that.”

“She shut the door in your face,” Dick guesses.

Slade grunts. “We can meet not at her apartment.”

“And she’s moving?”

“And she’s moving.” Slade doesn’t sound particularly annoyed about it, but then again, finding people who don’t want to be found is basically his job. Dick makes a mental note to see if Rose wants a hand making her dad’s life harder.

“So why the jacket?” Dick says, running his hand over the leather. It really is nice. He wonders where Slade got it, and whether it was paid for in money or blood. He probably doesn’t want to know.

“You complained I made you ruin yours,” Slade says. “Reckon we’re square now.”

Dick raises his eyebrows, even though Slade can’t see it. “I don’t remember doing that, but if I did, it had to have been, what… seven years ago? At least?”

“I’ve got a long memory.” It sounds vaguely like a threat, in Slade’s voice, but the jacket itself seems far from one, so Dick lets it pass.

“If you’re trying to make up for that,” Dick says, “then you’re really late.”

“You’d’ve thrown it straight in the trash if I ever tried before.”

“I could still do that.”

“You won’t.”

“Well, now I have to.”

Slade scoffs. “Go ahead. Would be a waste of perfectly good leather, though.”

The desire for knowledge wins out. “Where’d you get it?”

“Made it.”

Dick pauses, uncertain he’d heard correctly. When Slade doesn’t elaborate, though, Dick echoes, uncertainly, “Made it?”

“Wintergreen helped some.”

Dick opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Made it?

“Who exactly did you think made my first few costumes?” Slade says, sounding amused. “Not all of us have your daddy’s resources.”

It’s one thing for Slade to have bought him something; Dick can explain that away as just a whim—an act of opportunity, as it were. But Slade spending the time and energy to make it himself?

That’s premeditation.

“This isn’t a birthday gift.”

“I said happy birthday, didn’t I?”

“This isn’t just a birthday gift,” Dick presses.

Slade doesn’t respond, and Dick lets the silence stretch far past the point of discomfort. Still, neither of them hangs up. Slade may be a stubborn asshole, but Dick has been trained in the art of silence-offs by the most frustratingly stoic of them all.

Dick smooths out the collar of the jacket and straightens out the arms while he waits. Now that he’s looking closer, he can tell the seams aren’t the tidy stitches of a lifelong craftsman, but it’s impressive work, all the same. Work that must have taken a hell of a lot of effort. 

Finally, Slade breaks the rhythm of quiet breathing. “Whatever it is,” he says, “it’s yours now. Throw it in the trash if you want. Or don’t. It’s got nothing to do with me.”

It has everything to do with Slade, but the fact that Slade is insisting so hard that it doesn’t is both a little funny and extremely sad. Dick can recognize a fear of rejection when he hears it. 

Dick puts a hand on top of the jacket. “It doesn’t really make sense to give me this,” he says, “if you’re never going to see me wear it.”

Slade is silent for a moment, but not as long as before. “I’ve got time,” he says, slowly, like he’s leaving space for Dick to cut him off between one word and the next. “Two weeks from now.”

“Two weeks,” Dick agrees. “I assume you don’t need the address.”

“Think I’ve got it.” Slade’s voice is dry, but lacking its usual knife-sharp edge. “See you soon, kid.”

He hangs up before Dick can respond. 

Dick smiles anyway. “See you soon.”

----

Footnote: RIP Dick's expensive jacket (this is $300 in 80s money)

[tojiscrack]

on my weekly re-read of liar liar, and i was GOING TO pull an all nighter and finish it all, but i feel asleep before i could 😞😞

ANYWAYS!! i find it so funny that throughout the first chapter (and even later chapters, but not as much) its mentioned (and made very obvious) that y/n is a little devil child, that can be too much to handle, but never w megumi. like, idk how to explain it, but hes never thought shes “too much”, and lets her do what she wants, just puts his input in (like when she switched classes, he didnt feel overly annoyed by it, just told her that she was gonna get in trouble) (i might be wrong about this LMAO) youve written them in a way that they balance each other PERFECTLY, like they are genuinely soulmates.

the end scene of the first chapter is oddly one of my favourite parts of the fic, because we get other characters (albeit, minor characters, but wtv) opinions on them, and youve written them exactly like how they describe it. they keep each other in line, and thats why they work so well together.

anyways!!! i love this fanfic so sosososooos much!!! i dont understand how this isnt more popular because???? ITS SO GOOD???? literally how arent people falling in love with your writing within the first 1k words??

(also i meant to include this in a previous ask, but i forgot lol, BUT ONE OF MY FAV DUOS IN THE FIC (and in canon lfmao) is megumi and nobara?? everytime they’re together i genuinely laugh, you nailed their characters and character dynamic)

liar, liar masterlist here:

INCOMING YAP SESSION CUZ THIS ASK GOT ME SUPER DUPER EXCITED KSJSJDIWJ

WEEKLY reread? girl, stop, you’re gonna notice all the typos i cba to get rid of 🫣

HAHAHA, NO STOP, I HAVEN’T HAD ANYONE MENTION THE WHOLE ‘DEVIL CHILD’ THING SINCE THE FIRST TWO CHAPTERS WERE RELEASED 😭 and that, my friend, was months ago 🌝

so i’m so excited to just talk about this omggg!!! 😫💘

yes indeed 😤 megumi would most likely say she’s sm to handle, but really, he lowkey enjoys it. it’s the only time he can be an accomplice witness to such foolish behaviour, and not be reprimanded for it as much ‘cause he just has her to fall back on and blame. he won’t ever stop her, per se, but he’ll tell her once or twice ‘whatever you’re doing, it’s not gonna work’ or ‘don’t be dumb’, and think he’s done his part before being influenced by her 💀

‘i might be wro-’ stfu you’re right and you know it 🙄❤️

and you’re also right in it not being mentioned as much when they’re older. no, i did not forget to add it, that was done intentionally for two reasons:

they’re older now, so as much as she does what she wants with him, she’s a lot more tame than she was as a child. that doesn’t mean she ever regrets the stupid things she’s done (except for the whole mermaid thing, that is a lifelong regret she’ll always have 😭)

the idea that she’s such a menace has been established enough over the years to the point where no one feels the need to voice it. new characters probably would — someone like miss b who was introduced in the middle school chapter — but even then, she was exposed to the more tame versions of the chaotic duo. so everyone kinda silently acknowledges it, and only during crazy moments (like the tragic helicopter incident of 2016, rip satoru/suguru’s will to live 😔) will it actually be voiced (like ogi mistakenly believing that y/n didn’t start any of the nonsense that occurred during the incident, and that was mentioned cuz of the fact that she’s famously known to be so incredibly out of control).

the bonus scene for the first chapter was my fav to write as wellll (tho arguably, i say that about so many scenes, so the value of this statement is probably worth nothing 💀). bonus scenes were initially meant to be ONLY from other people’s pov, but i noticed how so many things from y/n and megumi’s childhood tgth are littered around the story, and that the only way you could ever get any insight of them is through the bonus scene since the chapters are too long to add flashbacks AND bonus scenes. i could always do a separate set of oneshots for them, but i don’t have the time for that (yk this through my horrid updating schedule) 😟

but i am so glad you’re telling me what you enjoyed — and more importantly, being specific about it. it lets me put into perspective how the later chapters (tho already planned) should be set out. your feedback means the world to me, and you deserve a million set of kisses every night for them <3333

‘i love this fanfic sosososo much!!! i don’t understand how this isn’t more popular because??? IT’S SO GOOD???’

okay brb, gonna go and find my right to exist and have the perfect life when cutie pies like you grace this earth 😖💞💓💗💞

maybe one day it’ll get bigger 😊 if that day ever comes, i’ll remember my og readers. i’ll remember the support i was given from them. i’ll remember people like you, who continuously flood my inbox with enough love to pull yank me out of writer’s block and squeeze out another chapter, how because of your long and juicy asks/messages/dms, the cycle of writing i have going on here continues, and i feel more and more proud that i even developed such a fic to begin with ❤️

‘literally how aren’t people falling in love with your writing after the first 1k words’ — errr probably ‘cause the first 1k words were just y/n trying (and failing) to explain what happens in her horror stories without stuttering 💀 LMFAO, SORRY 😭 i’d fall asleep on that carpet if i were the kids surrounding her, and they went to listen willingly.

but ugh, that’s so nice of you, i’m gonna siwjosnwidjwjd

AND OMG YOU’RE SO RIGHT

like everyone talks about yuji/nobara, or yuji/megumi, bUT WHAT ABOUT MY BEANS NOBARA/MEGUMI? they have a level of deep understanding with each other in canon (and in my fic, which will be addressed CHAPTERSSSS later) that i’d love to yap about, but i’ve already yapped enough, like you’re probably cringing rn i’m sorry 😭 another time, maybe 😔

[skrifores]

I have seen the point being made that you don’t have to be in a romantic relationship for some behaviour to constitute domestic violence. I’m seeing this said with regards to Our Flag Means Death and what some people perceive as domestic abuse on Ed’s part - that him not being romantically involved with Izzy shouldn’t mean behaviour between can’t be considered domestic abuse.

It is an excellent point that in many places, the definition of domestic abuse isn’t restricted to intimate partners! It is often widened to consider any violence, coercion and emotional harm taking place within a home environment. Under this definition, children can be victims of domestic abuse by their parents, it can occur between siblings, even roommates - especially with a live-in landlord situation. And of course, the Revenge as well as being a workplace is ultimately where the characters live.

I think it’s very clear that the show is a workplace comedy about pirates, but if you want to apply the definition of violence, coercion and emotional harm within a home environment to your reading to the show, that can be done.

Of course, I would be surprised if you genuinely view it that way and still made it as far as even watching Season 2, given the way what you consider to be domestic abuse in this fictional setting happens so very often with little to no moral consequence, and is often intended to be taken as a joke.

I mean. In the very first episode, the crew talk about killing Stede, and begin to plan for this, including lighting him on fire.

Jim threatens Lucius and actually physically locks him in a small wooden box in the second episode for what seems to be quite a long time.

I think in 4, Izzy pulls on Fang’s beard and it really upsets him. He also talks pretty openly about the intention to kill the Revenge crew, though I’ll let that go at this stage since he doesn’t really live there so much as being there for the purpose of murdering them and stealing their stuff. Still, poor Fang, that looked like it hurt.

While we’re on Izzy, he does also actively try to kill Stede by stabbing him, and he then he goes and does the olde worlde equivalent of calling the cops on him on the intention of having him executed, which seems pretty fucked up on the ‘violence’ part of our DA definition but also hits pretty hard on coercive control since he’s doing this to get Ed to behave differently.

He does prevent the Navy from executing Ed, which is nice, but he does point out that he regrets this, which, ouch, emotional harm. If we’re doing real world definitions, “I should’ve let the cops I called on you murder you” is the sort of thing that would make me feel pretty fucked up. And we all know what it means when someone tells you to watch your step.

But it’s not all about Izzy! (It’s really not, guys, there’s a whole TV show here!) Buttons bites Lucius - who ends up needing the whole finger gone! And he’s a visual artist!

Even my darling man Roach tries to eat the Swede, and I’ve gotta say, I don’t think they were on that island long enough to justify murder.

And who could forget Mary?? Wonderfully written character, love her, but, she does with malice aforethought attempt to kill her spouse in his sleep with a skewer. She was right to do it, in my opinion, but y’know, even without broadening the definition beyond partner relationships, murder of your spouse is pretty classic domestic abuse.

So, y’know, the point I’m getting at really is that if your definition of domestic abuse is violence and control wherein the perpetrator and victim share a significant aspect of their lives like living space - that’s a fine definition in real life. It is the one I use, in real life. But if you apply it to Our Flag Means Death, I really don’t understand how you stomached watching the first season or why you came back for more.

And if you only apply this definition with regards to Ed’s behaviour, but not the rest of the characters, I do wonder why that might be.

[uvonobu]

Some thoughts abt the new chapters cause they come out soon and I’m gonna die

(Not predictions, just me yapping)

okay dawg. So we all know the phantom troupe members are almost DEFINITELY gonna die. So I’m gonna yap abt what I need to see from them before they die bc if they all die stupid anti climatic deaths I’m gonna CRASH OUT

So I’ve known Shizuku and Nobunaga were gonna die from the start. With Shizuku, I’ve prepared myself for her death. So I won’t crash out THAT bad. Though, I really hope we get some dialogue about why she joined the troupe. I’m calling it right now, it’s gonna be that she joined the troupe because she wanted meteor city reforms but the useless fucking village elders don’t do shit so joined the only group that had actually made changes in meteor city. Yes, she knew what she was getting into, and yes, she knows they aren’t heroes. But their influence is super important to meteor city and I think it’d also be a good way to show the troupe’s relationship with the meteorians in a way that doesn’t feel forced. Plus it’d also flesh out Shizuku’s character more. Two birds with one stone pls hear my cries Togashi pleas

With Nobunaga, I’ve also accepted his death. Though there are certain things I need to see before he dies to be fully okay with it. For example, seeing his hatsu. If he dies without us seeing his hatsu, I’m crashing out. Actually, yk what’s worse? If we see his hatsu and it’s FUCKING STUPID. LIKE. DAWG. WE’VE WAITED YEARS TO SEE NOBUNAGA’S HASTU AND UR GONNA TELL ME ITS SRSLY SOME DUMB ASS SHIT. BRO. I KNOW HES AN ENHANCER BUT CMON…. I’ll forgive both of these things if Nobunaga gets to talk or think about Uvo one last time before his death. You guys know how I am…. Rrrrr… uvonaga….. but overall, if he dies in an anticlimactic way at the hands of hisoka I wont crash out THAT bad. I’ll be annoyed, but I could handle it

Now…. There’s a theory going around that Nobunaga might go by himself to fight Kurapika if he learns he’s on the boat. And I’m not here to talk about the logistics of that, but if that DOES happen, ohbmy god. Nobunaga straying from their mission to kill Hisoka so he can kill the chain user would be SO . OH MY GOD. It would be so selfish. But oh my god, it would be so good… it would really show how strong their bond really was. Nobunaga dying for Uvo genuinely might make throw up I’m getting nauseous thinking about it god that would be such a perfect way to end their story imgonnadie

Okay sorry moving on . If Bono’s gonna die PLEASE make it later down the line. Pls . I cannot handle his death vro. I mean, like… I’ll understand if he DOES die but I won’t be happy abt it…. We just need some more time with him pls Togashi pls… let the readers form an attachment to him first…. PLEADHHRHEJKSK all I’m asking for with Bono is more time and more dialogue thats all I want

Machi was already set to die. It’s so crazy, but Togashi wanted to kill her off when Hisoka woke up. She’s basically living on overtime right now, she was NOT meant to live this long. So I can’t really be that mad if she does die cause he was already being generous in giving us more time with her

Okay so I actually will not be crashing out if Phinks dies . Like at all. Sorry Phinks I love you but your death would be SO interesting. God, can you imagine Feitan’s reaction to that? I need to see it so bad. I’ll be super sad if he dies but I’ll also be excited because it’ll open the door to so many interesting paths to take the phantom troupe with

Feitan will probably be one of the last to die so I will probably be numb by then. I’ll probably cry cause he’ll die with all his friends gone and he wasn’t able to protect them and that’s rlly sad to think abt so I won’t be crashing out per say but I’ll definitely be depressed

So. With all the other members, I had been thinking about their deaths since I started rewatching hxh. But. It only recently occurred to me that Franklin might die. And !!! I will be brutally murdering all of you😄😄😁 I will kill everyone on tumblr I will kill everyone on TikTok I will definitely kill everyone on twitter and I will kill everyone I know irl you guys will see me on the news for mass murder I will GENUINELY crash out none of you will be safe from my wrath I will have unprecedented levels of pure rage in my system and I will be doing nothing but screaming in agony for multiple days on end you guys will unfortunately have to deal with my posts about her death for at least two weeks straight I will not be nice about this I will grab a gun and air out this fuckass app in memory of Franklin she means so much to me I will cry so hard I will NOT be okay

And Chrollo’s just not dying. I FULLY believe that Hisoka will just leave Chrollo alone after killing all the spiders. Why? Because it’d be so unspeakably cruel. And it would fit the narrative themes so well. I think Chrollo losing his nen and Kurapika saying he’ll have to understand understand the grief of losing the people he loves was foreshadowing... or maybe I’m delusional… but think about how insane that would be guys I fully believe this I’m sticking with it unless I get proven wrong

And that’s all thanks for my listening to my yap sesh if Franklin dies I will livestream viral rope and chair challenge😁😁😁😁😁😁

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️ Ranking Richonne

#26: We Should Go To Washington (S5E09)

This moment - Powerful. Pivotal. Romantic. I’ve said before that I believe Rick and Michonne more fully fell in love with each other by the end of season 4. And to me, how they interact with each other throughout season 5 just further confirmed my theory, especially in this stunning episode 'What Happened And What's Going On.' And part of what's going on is Rick and Michonne falling for each other even more as they make a big game-changing decision rooted in the love and trust they've developed. I love that this is where Rick shows he would truly go the distance for Michonne...

(Sidenote: Now this scene ranking might be my most controversially-placed one because I know this is a very beloved classic Richonne scene that would understandably make a lot of ppl's Top 10s and even Top 5s. It’s a super significant moment between Rick and Michonne and I love it, I promise. Richonne's journey is just that abundant with top-10 worthy moments so I had to make some sacrifices on my list because I adore every second of every moment they’re on screen.😅)

So I already just love the way Rick and Michonne are color-coordinated in their brown outfits. So much of season 5 really established how R&M are a pair and each other's match.

And in this ep, Rick touches her, I believe, for the first time since she told him never to touch her again in s3., showing their growth and the strengthening of those magnets.

Something I appreciate about the Richonne 5B scenes that occur before they arrive at ASZ is that they really did an effective job of confirming the depth of their bond. During this period, we consistently see just how much Rick and Michonne's attraction to each other is more than skin-deep because they've built a genuine love and trust with each other.

They cement their partnership in so many ways during this time of searching for a home, and it's important to see this depicted before they enter ASZ because it lets you know that while there will be situations that could potentially cause a divide between them at Alexandria, it's 5B scenes like this Washington one that tell you Rick and Michonne's bond was too strong, too battle-tested, and too important to them for anything in ASZ to break it.

It’s also very clear throughout this season 5 mid-season premiere how much Michonne’s well-being is on Rick’s radar and really matters to him, and it becomes extra clear in this #26 scene here. 

Michonne is making her case for why this place could maybe still work as a home, only to find that the community clearly was brutally attacked as severed body parts lay scattered around. Michonne is quietly disappointed as she walks and observes, and Rick’s attention immediately shifts to her as he follows behind her. It’s one of the clearest cases of their damn-near literal magnetic connection. 🧲

She doesn’t leave his sight. Even when Glenn says, "it doesn’t matter," Rick stays staring at Michonne. I love that their “you're okay, I'm okay” interconnectedness is so visible. Michonne isn’t okay, and that so clearly doesn’t sit well with Rick, so she’s top of mind for him in this scene.

Glenn starts speaking, and Rick peels himself away from looking at Michonne to hear Glenn share a very bleak perspective on how it wouldn’t matter who killed Dawn. Michonne turns around and pitches that they go to Washington. At the end of this season, a very special scene will have Rick admitting the way Michonne can influence his decisions, and this moment in 5.09 is an example of that. 

Michonne turns to Rick and tells him they're close, and it's 100 miles away - and one thing I love about this point in their relationship is that she and Rick have established enough trust with each other that Michonne can be vulnerable enough to really show some raw emotion here and speak her mind. 

Rick listens as Michonne questions what if there are people there and what if it’s a chance to be safe. “It’s a possibility. It’s a chance” This is the season of Michonne really wanting tf to find a home and I know so much of that would be rooted in the fact that she was one of the few who knows what it’s like to extensively wander out in the woods and go a bit mad. She doesn’t want that for her and her new family.

Michonne gets more emotional but still with such poise as she suggests going to Washington is better than just being out there and just making it since making it looks like all those bodies sprawled on the ground. I love that she’s pouring her heart out to him. And what a great man that Rick is so ready to not take this lightly and to really hear her.

And we get another one of those long lingering looks from Rick as he stares right at her, listening. The arresting effect she always has on him is gold, and I appreciate that he lets her words seep in. Especially when Michonne asks, “Don’t you want one more day with with a chance?” 

Danai again slays the vulnerable delivery of that line and it’s also deep for Michonne to pose this question hoping Rick also wants to live and not just survive. This is important for her to know too because her last man had given up on trying to have one more day with a chance and so it’s great she gets this confirmation that Rick is different and far more aligned with her.

(Also watching s1 back, in the finale, Dr. Jenner asks what they want, and Rick says, “A chance.” which just further indicates how he and Michonne are cut from the same cloth) 

Then I love the romantic way this next part plays out cuz the walkers draw near, Rick says we should go, and Glenn and Michonne think he means we should leave the area. So Michonne turns away thinking her words fell on deaf ears, but then Rick reveals no I heard you and I will go where you lead, when he repeats her words and says, "It’s 100 miles away...We should go to Washington."

Hearing this gets both Glenn and Michonne to stop in their tracks and turn to look at Rick  Cuz this isn’t a choice Rick would make this quickly for just anyone. And Michonne’s look of surprise is so touching. I was just looking at this moment thinking - that’s right girl, he’d do anything for you.😊

I’ve always felt like in this scene Glenn is an adorable third wheel to the Richonne bubble because Rick is completely facing and staring at Michonne solely when he says this. It just makes it clear that he is declaring this because of her. Like of course he wants to secure a home for his whole family, but in this moment what's especially evident is Rick wants to give a home to Michonne.

So Rick makes this big decision for the group fully based on what Michonne thinks is best and once again it really was giving romantic when he looked right at her and said, "We should go to Washington."

And then Michonne's subtle smile...that’s an “I love this man” reaction, y’all. Better yet, she's looking at Rick like...

I appreciate how Rick and Michonne’s love for each other makes them do things differently, because while in the past it was said by Lori that Rick would never just go somewhere on a hunch, here he’s showing that he would go somewhere and bring all of tf with him if Michonne’s instincts say it’s a good move.

I love that here Rick can’t help but be so focused and in tune with her and Michonne can’t help but look at him with so much love. Again she gets confirmation Rick is different from her past and cut from the same cloth as her. The way Rick looks at her and looks away, I really feel like it’s a brief moment of him knowing that he so swiftly agreed to this for and because of her because he loves her. Whipped in the best healthiest way.

It's also great watching scenes like these back and knowing Rick is looking at the woman who he will go onto happily make his wife, and Michonne is looking at the man she will fully embrace as her husband. 🥰

All of Rick and Michonne's s5 scenes suggest that they had fallen for each other and were becoming more and more aware of how special and influential they were in each other's lives. And this moment was a beautiful illustration of what Richonne means to each other and what they’ll do for each other. Scenes like these - weighty, quiet, but full of love, just solidify that this is a beautiful love story for the ages. 😌

[nebula-blitzar]

Just kinda in the mood to post this so like

There’s a lot of rumors and speculations on how Fizz and Oz met and when so I thought I would share my personal theory.

I think when the incident first occurred, Mam freaked the fuck out because he had just signed a contract, had been doing work for him on the side, and made him lots of money. So Mam calls up Oz and asks him for prosthetics for cheap. They were decent quality (especially for the price,) and Oz had written instructions and stuck them to the prosthetics so Mam would see them. Mam, being the lazy ass he is, threw them away and just gave Fizz the prosthetics, with no guidance on how to use them.

Now Fizz was further indebted to Mammon, so he couldn’t really leave. He worked full time for him, and was still paid as much as he needed to get by (decent apartment, food). At some point along this timeline, Mam also had Asmodeus make the Fizz-bots, which lightened the load. But Fizz’s performances became more intense, and further put stress on him.

I do want to note I have a theory that imps with irises (all the time) have chronic anxiety or other problems. Since other imps’ irises only appear when they’re upset in some way, shape, or form. So that would be Barb, Blitzø, and Fizz. Cash didn’t have irises, but Tilla did, and since she was sick and shit, it kinda makes sense.

So with all of this stuff happening to Fizz and around Fizz with no one to help him, he had worsened anxiety. But he kept performing since he felt so indebted to Mammon. Around the four and a quarter year mark, Fizz started to feel some pain where his limbs were attached to his body. So he asked Mammon. Mam, being the asshole he is, said no, obviously, so he just kinda..kept performing through the pain.

Since the pain was persistent enough to get in the way of Fizz’s performances, he kept asking Mammon. Finally, Mam let him go do it so he would shut up about it. So Fizz and Oz finally got to meet in person, and they learned the problem was basically some pretty severe friction burns from not wearing them properly (y’know since Mam threw the instructions away) and so Oz was pissed about Mammon not listening to him (as always) and wanted to call him to give him a piece of his mind.

Fizz stops him, saying it’s a bad idea, and that Fizz will get in more trouble, so he doesn’t call Mam.

Then Fizz leaves, and Oz goes back to work, but not without texting Bee asking if they can meet up (if you don’t hc Bee and Ozzie as friends we can’t be friends/j) sometime soon. Bee is obviously like totes dude and a few days later, they meet up.

Oz asked to hang out to consult Bee on the fact he kinda had a crush on Fizz, Bee is super excited (duh) and is like tell me everything they talk more and come to the conclusion Oz has a genuine crush, and him and Fizz should talk more.

Oz doesn’t want to be awkward and text Fizz just to talk, but lucky for him, a few weeks later, Fizz applies for a job application at Ozzie’s, cause he wants to be able to afford some luxuries, and for that he needs more money, and Mammons not gonna give him a pay raise. Since Fizz actually is a really good fit for the job, he gets it.

Anyway the pair get really close both business wise and friend wise, and Fizz does more shifts at Ozzie’s. Mam isn’t actually that mad since he has the Fizz-Bots to perform, advertise and sell.

At some point near the five year mark, the pair kiss, and while both sides enjoy it, it keeps both of them up late. So the next day after Ozzie’s closes they talk it out and end up accidentally confessing their feeling to each other.

So yeah that’s first meeting, how they got together, and why they got to know each other. I am writing a fanfic about this in more detail, and this is probably not the last time I mention this theory, so stay tuned!

Ps thanks for reading this long ass rant lol