#there really is no need to seriously talk about it

[calware]

TT: What are you hoping to do now? Surely you know that your boss is swimming six feet under. GG: The heiress has the ability to revive her. TT: Seriously, that’s what you really want? TT: I know that you are programmed to serve her and be evil. But she’s gone. Doesn’t that negate your directive or something? GG: . GG: Tell me about the- TT: Christ, don’t go there. Point made.

TT: My point is that you’re free. You can do whatever you want. Be your own person. GG: I am not a person. TT: This is your chance to become one. GG: . GG: . GG: Irrelevant. GG: I will revive my great grandmother, continue to serve her as she subjugates Earth, and reinstate her empire. TT: No. Don’t do that. TT: I’m telling you not to do that. She was horrible. You do not need to bring her back. Assuming it'll even work in the first place. GG: Hypocritical, don’t you think? TT: Excuse me? GG: Yes, tell me, what are you planning to do with the corpse of Lord English? TT: Holy shit, that’s completely different. GG: Then why have you been hiding from the others? Do you suspect that if you go through with it, that you’ll be betraying them? TT: You are trying to enslave them, I’m trying to- GG: Make yourself whole? Hope it fixes your mistake? GG: Do you truly believe that the fallout of your plan will be any better for them than that of mine? TT: You don’t understand. GG: You’ll find that I do, auto-responder. GG: I know that you are desperate. I know that you cannot go through with your plan alone. GG: This is how I know that you will accept. TT: What are you talking about? GG: My business proposal, of course.

[keferon]

Hmmmm. New infection: Blurr/Swerve

Your writing has radioactive qualities but in a comic book super powers granting kind of way.

Merry Christmas from me to you.

———————————————————————

There was single spark of Christmas in the deepest dark of space. Far, far from the warm fire of Earth.

With the sort of warmth reserved for children’s holiday specials, Swerve and Jazz exchanged small improvised gifts.

Prowl also participated, with all the stone cold concentration of a bomb defusal.

Turns out, there was a decent amount of dropped shanix down various vents that Jazz had gotten a hold of. Swerve helped him pick up a gift for Prowl the next time they stopped at a trade depot. It was some of the most fun he’d had since waking up.

Prowl. ALSO, required Swerves help in picking out a gift for Jazz.

Never, never, never again.

Later, Swerve would watch as Jazz helped Prowl loop a striped scarf over his shoulders and across one half of a chevron, laughing and smiling all the while.

Swerve wasn’t jealous. No no no. He really was happy for them! He was! And maybe a little sad.

Prowl nodded at something Jazz said and took his leave to head back to his, their hab suite. Jazz jogged over to where Swerve had been slowly been drilling a pen into the drawing pad Jazz gotten for him.

“So you going to go see them?”

Swerve abruptly dropped the pen and flattened a hand over the sketch he’d definitely not made of the person he totally wasn’t thinking about.

“Whaaaat? No, no I’m sure they’re fine. Not! That I was still thinking about him! THEM.”Swerves optics darted rapidly from Jazz to the drawing, making sure any evidence was fully concealed.

“Besides, I’m not gonna leave you alone on Christmas Eve.” He said a bit more seriously, remembering Jazz’s current isolation. Unlike him, Swerve could visit Earth whenever wanted.

“Actually, Prowl was talking about some silent holovid earlier, so we were going to watch it tonight. It’s cool man, go check on your boo.”

Jazz looked, well, happy. And his field (wow, Swerve was still mind blown that humans had those the entire time) reflected that.

Swerve did a poor imitation of nonchalance. “I mean, only if you’re totally sure.”

Jazz put his hands in his pockets, rocking on the balls of his feet a little, “Hmmm, you could always join Prowl and I for the holovid. You know, the one we’re gonna watch together? Inside his room?”

HA!

Hahahahhaha!

Oooooh Swerve saw THAT trap and did not need the stress induced nightmare fuel that’d surely come from third wheeling on a date with Prowl.

The Christmas Shopping was enough.

With Jazz’s blessing, and Prowl’s glaring, seriously he could feel it through the wall, Swerve wished them a Merry Christmas and went to his room. Just a little bit quicker than necessary.

———————————————

Blurr’s hospital was one of those really fancy ones that looked more like a hotel room from the right angles.

There were simple decorations, extra furniture like a nightstand and a small couch, as well as fairly thick curtains framing a large clear window.

Christmas lights were strung up outside, adding to the ambient glow of the city lit up below. Snowflakes drifting through the air fuzzed the details. Made everything a little soft.

Swerve zeroed in on closing the curtains out of habit.

“Leave th-“

Swerve shrieked, nearly clipping through a wall with how hard he jumped.

Lying on his good side on the couch, Blurr merely blinked at him slowly before finishing his sentence.

“Leave the curtains open, please.” He pulled a blanket that didn’t look thick enough a little more securely over his shoulder.

Blurr didn’t resume looking at the falling snow, instead he took Swerve in with a half lidded eye.

“So are you my ghost of Christmas past, present or future?”

Swerve was uncomfortably reminded of how he looked at the moment. Colorless, grainy and mostly transparent. Slowly, he turned up the sliders on his holoform. “Heh, uh, option D? None of the above?”

Blurr didn’t have an IV in, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still on some other form of painkillers. Either way, he seemed a little more aware than what Swerve was prepared to deal with.

So why was he moving to get Blurr a better blanket?

Eh, he probably won’t remember this, but his recovery will. Swerve rationalized. He thinks I’m a Christmas ghost anyways, it’s just a dream to him.

When Swerve was almost out of sight, he was stopped by a small, “Stay?”

Swerve stayed.

He shuffled where he stood, Blurr continued to look at him. Slowly, the former racer tried to sit up.

Swerve was there right away, moving softly as he helped him up. In order to support Blurrs weight as best as possible, Swerve ended up sitting halfway onto the couch where Blurr had been laying.

Blurr placed a hand on his arm for support, and when he was most of the way upright, Swerve felt him sigh and rest all of his weight onto his holoform.

Comfortable.

Trapping him.

Holoforms can’t explode right?

Swerve was living both his greatest fanfic dream as well as his second greatest real life nightmare. He really, really hoped holoforms couldn’t explode. Fuck knows he’d put this poor man through enough.

How many layers of guilt were there again? There’s the initial parasocial idolization thing. There was the time Blurr saw all of his destroyed merchandise. So he thinks Swerve hates him. Did. He did actually hate him. Not really, but he wanted to. Oh and then Swerve left him for dead! Because he treated him like he wasn’t an actual living person who could feel fear! Or pain! Or. . . Alone.

On Christmas.

Swerve got a little more settled onto the couch, letting Blurr use him as his personal cushion a bit more comfortably. Leaning his head on his shoulder, Blurr was watching the snow again.

“When I was a child, I spent every Christmas at a ski lodge to the north” Blurr spoke quietly enough that the silence stayed resilient.

“I’d stay up late, watching the snow drift down through the mountain lights for hours. It felt a lot like this.” Blurr’s eye was fluttering more and more the longer he spoke. Each time it closed, Swerve could see the effort it took to open again.

Blurr, readjusted his body one last time me. Then mumbled. “You’re very warm for a ghost.”

Swerve, desperately, wished he could remember a single smart thing he’d ever written. “I got a slider for that.”

Swerve was going to find the self destruct button.

Blurr snorted a genuine single laugh. His eye had closed and he’d stopped fighting. Gradually, Swerve felt him breath a little slower, sinking into him and the couch. Swerve held still, until all the screaming, embarrassing panic in his mind resolved into white noise.

Swerve stayed for as long as he could. And when his time was almost up, he carefully lowered Blurr back onto the couch. Getting him a thicker blanket, and a non-Swerve pillow, for Christmas.

———————————————————————

- SSTP

"Prowl. ALSO, required Swerves help in picking out a gift for Jazz.

Never, never, never again."

LMAO

"Oooooh Swerve saw THAT trap and did not need the stress induced nightmare fuel that’d surely come from third wheeling on a date with Prowl."

AHAHAHAJFJGMGJGKRJ WHEEEEEEZE HELP

ANON. SSTP. DEAR. MY TREASURE. MY SWEET NUCLEAR POWER PLANT OF A WRITER. I LOVE THE WAY YOU WRITE THEM. BOTH JP AND BLURWERS. YOU HAVE NO BUSINESS TO BE THIS FUNNY AND CUTE /J

Also The scene with Blurr is just SO cozy auughhggj I wanna wrap them both in a blanket and send to the magic ski resort where nothing bad ever happens*

[croissantsandblackcoffee]

luigi mangione ⊹ rumination

— he was literally glowing !!!!!! i’m so happy for him. also, i hope they dress him up in winter clothing more often. every single pic of him before he got caught is wearing sleeveless shirts, shorts and flip flops, and the occasional suit. link to the masterlist ;)

riker’s island. thursday, 5:00 PM

you’re feeling really nervous as you walk through the security checks, heading inside the facility to wait. you’ve tried your best to hide the symptoms, but you’ve been feeling a bit of nausea off and on, as well as a bit bloated. nothing too noticeable as of yet.

you take a seat at one of the empty seats, waiting for the guards to bring luigi out. your fingers play with the cord of the telephone, a habit out of nervousness.

as you sit there, waiting, you can’t help but get lost in your thoughts. all sorts of possible conversation starters are going through your head, but none of them seem good enough. how do you even tell someone you’re carrying their child?

eventually, you’re broken out of your thoughts by footsteps, and you look up to see luigi. he seems happy to see you right now, his gaze sweeping over you in that usual fashion he does; a mixture of curiosity and… something else.

“hey, sweetheart,“ he starts as he takes a seat opposite you, putting the phone to his ear. he doesn’t seem to notice the way you’re fidgeting in your seat, or the way you seem a bit more stressed than usual. “how’ve you been?”

“i’ve been alright,” you say, nodding. you try to control your expression, but you’re sure some of your stress is showing. despite everything though, seeing luigi again feels… nice. “how about you?”

he lets out a huff, and he sounds a little annoyed as he speaks.

“bored out of my mind. i mean, seriously — how do these guys expect people to stay sane when there’s nothing to do all day? it’s torture. i swear the only thing keeping me going is these visits with you.”

“oh, yeah?” you raise an eyebrow at that, managing to break past your worries for a moment and feel a bit smug. “so you look forward to my visits? that much?”

“what? of course i do,” he answers immediately, sounding a little incredulous that you’d even ask that. “i mean, sure, the guards are rude and the food sucks, but i… i look forward to seeing you, sweetheart. you’re the best part of my day.”

a small part of you wants to feel smug about it — that luigi finds so much enjoyment from seeing you, that it’s the highlight of his day. but the rest of you just feels guilty. because right now, you know there’s something you need to confess to him. but how the hell do you even bring it up?

eventually, after a small moment of silence, you take a deep breath and decide to hell with subtlety. this is luigi. he’s a mature adult who can handle tough conversations.

“luigi, i… i need to tell you something.”

he notices the change in your tone right away, hearing the more serious edge to your voice. a line appears in his brow, but it’s not a scowl. he looks more confused than anything.

“alright… what is it?” he tilts his head slightly. “you can tell me whatever’s on your mind, baby, you know that.”

“yeah, i know,” you nod, letting out a small sigh and shaking your head. “i just… it’s…”

you stop, taking another deep breath and preparing yourself for what you’re about to say. how the hell do you even bring this conversation up?

“just… don’t interrupt, okay? just let me talk for a minute.”

he looks more confused now, an eyebrow raised in curiosity, but he nods.

“alright,” he says. “i’m listening. go ahead.”

it takes a few more moments before you finally gather up the nerve to start talking. you take a deep breath, trying to arrange your thoughts properly.

“okay,” you begin, looking at him. “do you… do you remember that last time we were together? the conjugal visit a few weeks ago?”

he nods, his eyebrows pulled together. he seems to have an idea of where this conversation is going.

“of course i do. what about it?”

“right. right.” you nod, running a hand through your hair nervously. “well… i… i think something might have… happened, during that time. something that i only discovered a few days ago. and it’s kinda…”

you trail off, taking another deep breath. God, how the hell do you say this?

“it’s kinda what, sweetheart?” he asks quietly, his gaze fixed on you. he looks a little bit worried now, sensing that this is something big.

“well…” you struggle for another few moments, your hand basically gripping the telephone cord. you take another deep breath, steeling yourself as best as you can. “i… i think I’m pregnant.”

there. you said it.

there’s a few seconds of silence between the two of you, and it’s so thick you swear it could be cut with a knife. luigi has just been dropped a massive bomb, and he’s taking a few moments to process it.

right now, you can’t even tell what he’s thinking. his face is completely impossible to read.

eventually, he sighs.

“christ…” he mutters under his breath, before looking back up at you. there’s a mix of emotions in his expression — disbelief, shock, more disbelief, etc. “are… are you sure?” he asks. “like, 100% certain?”

“i’m sure. i took two tests, and both of them came up positive. and i’ve… i’ve had some other symptoms as well. so… yeah. i’m positive. i’m pregnant, luigi.”

his eyes are fixated on you, his mind racing as he processes this big ball of information that’s just been thrown at him. he looks a little less shocked, and now he seems to be moving towards acceptance.

“jesus… well, shit,” he mutters under his breath. he runs a hand over his face, thinking. “and, uh… it’s… it’s definitely mine, right? no doubts about that?”

you nod, your fingers still fiddling with the cord as you speak.

“yeah. yeah, it’s yours. i’ve had no one else but you, luigi. and we didn’t exactly consider using any protection during our visit, so…”

he lets out a huff at that, shaking his head. he doesn’t seem mad, just… worried.

“yeah, i suppose we didn’t… damn.” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “so… what are you gonna do? about the pregnancy, i mean.”

you shrug, chewing on your lip a bit. you’re not completely certain yourself, right now.

“i… i don’t know yet,” you admit. “i mean, it all just happened pretty damn recently, so i haven’t had time to really think about it yet. but… I guess i just wanted to know… what you thought about it. it is your kid too, after all.”

he nods, biting his own lip as his gaze drifts down to the tabletop.

“right… i mean, of course it has something to do with me as well… right, so…” he sighs, and glances back up at you. “are you sure you want to keep the baby, sweetheart? i mean, a baby is a pretty huge deal. it changes a lot of things.”

he pauses before continuing, “listen, it’s a big deal. and it’s gonna affect you way more than it’ll affect me. i mean, i’m the one who was able to just walk away after our little… visit. you’re the one who’s been left with the after-effects. i just… i just don’t want you to feel like you have to keep the kid just because it’s mine. it’s your body at the end of the day, so if you don’t want to carry, then you don’t have to.”

you bite your lip, knowing that that probably the reasonable conclusion to come to. but honestly, you don’t have the first clue what you actually want to do right now. this whole situation has got your head all over the place, and you’re not entirely sure how you feel about it.

“i don’t know, luigi, i…” you pause, taking a deep breath. “i don’t know if i want to keep it or not. i have no idea what i want to do right now. i just… i don’t know.”

luigi watches you, and his expression visibly softens as his shoulders relax a bit. he can tell that you’re overwhelmed, and honestly, he doesn’t entirely blame you for being so.

“hey," he starts, his voice quiet. "it’s alright, sweetheart, it’s alright. you don’t have to decide anything right now, alright? just… just take some time, think it over. no rush.”

he pressed his hand against the glass, as if taking your hand in his and squeezing it reassuringly. if only he would able to do so.

“i just want you to know that… whatever you end up choosing to do, i’m gonna support it. whether you want to keep or not, i’m gonna be there for you. you’re not by yourself in this. i’m not gonna let you deal with this all on your own, you hear me?”

it’s a comforting thought, knowing that luigi is going to support you no matter your decision. you’ve worried that perhaps he’d feel upset that this has happened, or that he’d somehow blame you for this happening. but no, he seems focused on making sure you’re supported through this.

you let out a breath, and nod, managing a weak smile. you press your own hand against the glass, wishing that you could feel his touch on your skin.

he mirrors you with a weak smile of his own. he watches the hand that’s pressed against the glass, as if imagining that he’s holding your own. despite the thick glass and the guards, luigi wishes that he could just take your face in his hands, and press a soft kiss to your forehead.

instead, he just has to settle for watching you.

you feel almost lonely just sitting there. it’s such a simple thing, but seeing luigi sitting on the other side of that thick glass, not even able to hold your hand, it makes your heart ache a little bit.

you’re not usually needy, you don’t usually desperately crave another person’s touch like this, but right now, you wish more than anything that you could just be in luigi’s arms.

he wishes more than anything in the world that he’d be able to just have you in his lap right now, to hold you close and have his arms wrapped securely around you.

he doesn’t even want anything more from you. no, right now his mind isn’t focused on anything sexual. he just wants to comfort you, hold you, and reassure you.

he wants to show you how much he cares about you. he wants to be able to hold you in his lap, and bury his face against your hair while he whispers soothing words into your ear. he wants to be able to run his fingers through your hair, and press kisses to your lips until that worried expression is gone.

right now, he wants to be able to be your comfort, the way that you’ve been his.

unfortunately, the glass that separates you prevents him from doing any of that. but he can’t not do something. no, he can’t just sit by, and simply watch you.

despite not being able to hold you in his lap, he does the next best thing, and starts talking with a soothing voice.

“hey,” he says quietly, his voice low. “it’s okay, sweetheart. everything’s gonna be alright, you hear me?”

his tone is gentle, and soft. the complete opposite to how he sounds when he’s teasing you. no, his teasing voice is cocky and smug.

this voice is just soothing, a quiet whisper that’s designed to comfort you.

“i mean it, alright? you’re not alone in this. i’m not leave just abandon you, or something. if you keep it, i’ll be there. if you don’t, i’ll still be there. i’m gonna be right by your side. you got it?”

he watches you, his eyes flickering over your face as he waits for your reaction to his words. he’s hoping that what he has said will have some sort of soothing effect on you, that at the very least it’ll help a little bit.

“i’m not going anywhere, sweetheart,” he says again, his voice still quiet. “you’re stuck with me. no matter what you choose.”

in spite of the difficult situation, a warm feeling starts to spread inside you. luigi’s soothing words are working — they’re helping to comfort you. the fact that he remains so unwaveringly supportive, and has even promised to be there for you, regardless of what choice you make, has a calming effect on you. not a massive effect, but enough to take some of the stress away.

luigi can tell that it’s working. it’s subtle, but in the slight change of your face, your body language, he can see the effect that his soothing words are having.

he can see that you’re a little bit more relaxed than you were at the beginning of the conversation — and that makes him slightly more relaxed.

“you know,” he starts gently, “you’re surprisingly calm for someone who just told their boyfriend that they’re pregnant.”

he says it jokingly, his tone still just as soft and gentle. however now there’s a slight hint of amusement in his expression. the fact that you’re relatively calm about the whole situation is a bit surprising to him.

the words have an effect though, as you give a small shrug, and let out a soft snort.

“do you want me to start panicking or something?” you ask, one eyebrow raised.

luigi lets out a huff, shaking his head.

“well, no, of course not. it’s just that, well… i mean, not that i think it’s bad, but i expected you to be at least a bit more stressed than you are right now.”

he tilts his head slightly, a hint of curiosity in his expression.

“i don’t know, sweetheart, you’re handling this surprisingly well.”

you shrug again, not really having an answer for that. honestly, you can’t even really explain it yourself.

“i mean, it’s not like panicking is going to help anything,” you say, letting out a soft huff. “and like i said, i’m not exactly sure what i even want to do yet, so why freak out over nothing?”

he stares at you for a moment, a slight smile on his face as he takes in your words. he’s actually a little bit impressed with your calmness right now. despite not having any idea what you actually want to do, you’re not losing your head completely.

there’s a hint of appreciation in his expression.

“you’re amazing, you know that?”

he says it more to himself than to you, shaking his head slightly and running a hand through his hair.

“i mean, seriously, you tell me that you’re pregnant, and what do you do? you stay perfectly calm and level-headed. and, i mean, it’s not like i was expecting you to freak out or anything, but i have a feeling that most women would not be as composed as you are right now.”

you give a small huff at that, a light smile appearing on your face. despite everything, that praise from him makes you feel a bit warm inside.

“i don’t know about ‘amazing’,” you say quietly, fiddling with the phone cord. “more like ‘not completely insane’.”

“hey, it’s amazing to me.”

he leans forward slightly, his expression softening. he watches you fiddle with the cord of the phone, wishing more than anything that he could be there with you right now.

“trust me, sweetheart, right now i think you’re amazing. the way you’re taking all this so calmly? it’s pretty damn impressive, if you ask me.”

you give a small scoff, rolling your eyes a bit, but you can feel a hint of colour rising to your cheeks. despite your best efforts, his compliments get you flustered.

“alright, stop it… you’re gonna make me embarrass myself,” you mutter, shifting a bit in your seat.

that subtle hint of colour in your cheeks isn’t subtle to him. luigi notices it immediately, and a smug grin appears on his face. you always get so adorably flustered when he compliments you.

“oh, is that so?” he murmurs, enjoying the way you’ve shifted awkwardly in your seat. he can see how flustered you’ve become just by a couple of innocent compliments.

seeing you like this, blushing and shy, makes him want to just take your face in his hands and kiss you senseless.

however, of course, that’s not possible at the moment. because there is a thick sheet of glass in the way, and he’s a threat to the public, apparently. it’s frustrating as hell, to be so close to you, and yet still be unable to actually reach you. unable to grab you, hold you, touch you.

instead, he simply lets out a huff, and continues to watch the way you look. he can see how your hands are fiddling with the phone cord, how your cheeks are flushed a little bit. how you’re shifting a bit in your seat, as if uncomfortable by how flustered he’s making you.

“would it be… selfish for me to keep it?” you ask, almost out the blue.

you asked the question to the air, seemingly more to yourself than anything. but luigi responds anyway.

“no. definitely not selfish.”

he shakes his head, his expression firm. he doesn’t want you to have any doubts, not even for a second.

“what makes you think it would be selfish?”

you give a soft exhale. luigi’s reassurance helps, a little bit at least. however, the fact that your mind immediately went from ‘should i keep it?’ to ‘is it selfish to keep it?’ is a worrying sign.

“i mean, what if they never let out you? i’d want to have something of yours, as weird as that sounds.”

you pause, biting your lip.

“but then i’d make you feel obligated to be a dad.”

it takes a moment for the full weight of your words to settle in, and when they do, luigi visibly stiffens in his seat.

that thought hadn’t occurred to him at all. but you’re right, it is definitely something that needs to be taken into consideration.

the possibility of him being released, and getting out, is next to none. and he might never get to be a dad, not properly anyway. It’s a bitter pill to swallow.

but he swallows it nonetheless, his shoulders tensing slightly. he knows that you’re just saying that you want something of his; but the idea that you might keep the baby just for that reason alone hurts.

he can’t give you a proper life. he can’t give you the family that you deserve. he can’t give you or the child that you might possibly have the life that you want. even if he was released someday, he’d be labeled as a threat, and it would always hang over his head.

he swallows again, watching you through the glass. he can see the way your eyes won’t quite meet his, the way that your fingers are still fiddling with the phone cord. You look almost embarrassed, in the way that your cheeks are slightly flushed.

“sweetheart,” he starts quietly, his voice low. “please look at me. can you give me that much, at least?”

you hesitate for a brief second, before meeting his gaze through the glass. it’s surprisingly intimidating, having him looking at you like that. the expression in his eyes is a mixture of softness and firmness — and you’re suddenly reminded just how intense his gaze can be, when it’s focused on you.

although it isn’t at all intentional, there’s a hint of authority in it. a reminder of the fact that he is dominant; and right now, he wants to talk with you, and he’s not about to let you shy away from him.

you feel your face getting a little bit hotter when you finally return his gaze, and you can feel your heart rate picking up just a little bit. there’s something about the way that luigi is looking at you that’s almost a little bit intimidating.

the softness in his gaze, paired with the firmness. the slight command to it, as if telling you to look at him. it makes you feel almost a little bit flustered, a shiver running down your spine.

for some reason, you feel like he’s dominating you right now, even from behind the glass.

“don’t keep it just for that reason.”

he practically demands it. he can see that you’re getting flustered just by him looking at you like this, but he doesn’t care.

the thought of you having the baby for that reason alone makes his heart hurt. it’s a reminder that there’s a very decent possibility that he’ll never get to be an actual father. he’ll never get to hold his child in his arms, take his child to school, watch as they grow and go through life.

it sucks. knowing that if you keep the baby, you’ll probably be a single mother.

luigi knows that he’ll never get to see his child. he can barely even see you — and chances are high that any visits you’d make to him while you’re pregnant would stop as soon as the baby is born.

he won’t ever get to see them growing up, get to watch their milestones — their first steps, their first words, their first day of school. he won’t be there for any of it.

“please.”

he repeats himself, the firmness in his gaze hardening just a little. he needs you to understand.

“don’t keep it just for that reason, okay?”

the thought has lodged itself in his mind now, and there’s almost a pleading tone in his voice. he’s practically begging you not to make your decision just to have something of his.

to have something of his. he knows that you didn’t mean it badly, that the intention behind the words wasn’t negative. but the words still hurt.

like a knife, going straight into his heart. the thought that you might keep the baby just to have part of him — not because you want to have a baby, that you want to be a mother.

the fact that you’re willing to make that sacrifice for him, makes him feel both touched and sick at the same time.

he hates it. he hates that the thought even crossed your mind. that you would possibly keep it just to have a part of him.

it’s touching that you care enough that you would do that, but it’s also not the reason why a child should be born. if you were to keep it, he wants it to be for the same reason anyone else has children.

because you want to be a mother. not because you feel like you need to for him.

he takes a breath, his hands clenching his thighs slightly under the table. the thought that keeps spinning and spinning around his head is that he won’t be able to be there.

he won’t be able to hold your hand while you give birth. he won’t be able to be there for any check-ups. he won’t be able to see you with a baby bump, your body changing to accommodate the child growing inside you.

he won’t get to hold you when the pregnancy gets uncomfortable, won’t be there to rub your swollen feet. he won’t get to feel the baby kicking in your belly and the joy of that first movement.

he won’t get to be there for any of it. no doctor’s appointments, no late nights, no first words, no first steps.

he hates it. he hates it so much.

he won’t get to experience any of the good aspects of parenthood. he won’t get to hold you when you’re stressed, won’t get to rub your back when you feel sick. he won’t get to take care of you during your pregnancy, comfort you when you’re in pain.

his arms won’t be the ones that you curl against when you’re feeling exhausted, when the pregnancy becomes exhausting.

he won’t get to walk with you through the store, picking out cute little clothes or toys for the baby. he won’t be the one to buy the first cute little onesie, the one to assemble the cot, or the changing table. he won’t be able to help you buy all the necessary baby supplies, won’t be there to shop for a stroller or a baby carrier.

he won’t pick out your hospital bag and fill it with all the necessary items when the time comes close. he won’t get to hold your hand as the labour pains start to hit, won’t get to comfort you when the pain gets too intense.

he won’t get to watch you as you bring a tiny, screaming, beautiful little human being into the world.

if you choose to keep it — and he hopes that you’ll make that decision because you want to, not because it would give you a tiny piece of him — he won’t be the one to cut the cord.

he won’t be the first one to hold the baby after the nurses weigh it and clean it up. he won’t even be allowed near the baby, because he’s a prisoner.

it’s the worst of both worlds. being a father and not being able to be a father at the same time. being a parent, but with none of the joy. none of the happy moments, none of the milestones. he’d be a father on paper only, but in reality it would all mean nothing.

no memories, no moments, no happiness. just emptiness on his side, and the exhaustion and stress on yours.

the worst part of it all is that he can’t even be mad. if you say yes, if you choose to keep it, how the hell would he be able to be mad at that? how could he be angry at you when you’re willing to give up so much just to have a part of him?

his mind keeps going back to the first thing you said, when the conversation started.

“would it be… selfish for me to keep it?”

and he’d been willing to say yes, because it was what you wanted. because this was about you, not him.

if you want to keep it, he isn’t going to stop you. but please, please, please don’t keep it just to have a part of him.

he can’t handle that. he won’t handle that.

as he watches you through the glass, his expression is carefully stoic and neutral. he’s trying to stay controlled, trying not to let the emotions show through on his face. he’s trying to keep his tone steady as he speaks.

“please, sweetheart,” he starts again, his tone a little bit more quiet. “please, don’t use that as an excuse to keep it. don’t make your choice based on that thought.”

he holds your gaze intently, silently begging you to understand.

it’s obvious that you’re struggling to stay emotionally composed, and it’s hard for him to watch. the way that your fingers are fiddling with the phone cord, the way that you’re shifting awkwardly in your seat. it’s all evidence that you’re having a hard time handling this.

he’d give anything to be able to hold you, comfort you. but the damn glass is in the way.

he wonders, idly, if you’ve been holding it together just fine in the past few days. If you’ve been strong and brave, putting on a facade of composure.

or if, when you were alone. when there was nobody around. when you were behind an closed door.

if you’ve collapsed to the floor. if you’ve cried into your hands, let out all the stress and confusion and anxiety.

he wonders if you’ve slept at all, at night. if you’ve been lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, overthinking every possible scenario until you’re exhausted. if you’ve tossed and turned, unable to turn your brain off.

wondering. questioning. overthinking. freaking out and stressing and worrying.

he wonders if you’ve even been eating properly. if you’re taking proper care of yourself.

he wonders how much the whole thing has been stressing you out, if the uncertainty is taking a toll on your mental health.

the look in your eyes now tells him that you’ve definitely been holding it together. but he doubts it’s been easy.

he knows that you’ve been going back and forth with your thoughts, second guessing yourself constantly. overthinking everything, every possible scenario. trying to figure stuff out, trying to process everything.

it’s clear to him just how much of toll this is taking on you, even if you’ve been struggling to keep it under control so far. even if you’ve been putting on a strong and mature front in front of him.

he can see the stress in your eyes now, just how much the whole situation is messing with your head.

the way that you’re sitting now. the phone cord in between your fingers, fidgeting nervously with it. the way that you’re shifting your weight from side to side, your feet tapping anxiously against the floor. the subtle nervous expression on your face, how your cheeks are flushed a little bit. your slightly heavier breathing.

it’s all proof that you’re struggling to keep it together. struggling to keep yourself composed.

he feels a wave of helplessness rush over him, as he’s forced to sit there, separated by the glass from you. he wants to comfort you so desperately. hold you in his arms, rub your back, kiss your forehead.

but he can’t. he can only sit there, watching, as you struggle to keep your composure.

are we keeping it or what? 👀

— TAG LIST —

@ga33y3 @icedchailattebabyy @betty-boop-lips-05 @harrysbestiee @badaspice @tsukishimawhore

[thoughtfulfiction]

The P Word

Author’s Note: Two fics in two days?

In 2013, Joe sent a dm to a recruiting analyst for scout.com, asking which camps he should attend because he was flying under the national radar.

Most four star recruits get about 20 college offers. He had 12.

At Ohio State he sat on the bench for three years, only gaining attention as a scout team player who would later have to graduate in three years just so he could transfer and get some playing time elsewhere.

That same scout team player would become the best player in college football and a Heisman trophy winner and the number one pick in the 2020 NFL Draft. A few years after that fateful private message to Dave Burk.

Robin Burrow had been there the entire time. Through every shining moment and the times that seemed rather dark. She drove two hours to do his laundry just to make sure he was physically and mentally healthy when he lived in Columbus, has attended every game since he began playing sports, made him snickers salad when he tore his ACL…and when he tore his scapholunate ligament in his wrist. All in all, she’s been a constant presence in the midst of all of the mayhem. To be frank, there’s nowhere else in the world she’d rather be than between him and anything that could possibly serve to harm him or cause him any pain, no matter how old he is.

That included protecting him from himself.

The last few months had been filled with joy. After the news of his engagement, the wedding planning process had been smooth. You and Robin along with your mom, had gone to several appointments together and Joe had even added his input in most of the details without you feeling like you had to twist his arm and force him to participate.

You were now in the home stretch of the most important day of your lives. Less than two months from now you’d be saying “I do” to the love of your life. And Robin had taken her role as future mother in-law very seriously. You knew that Joe was a mama’s boy, his brothers much older than him with their own mom, and it was clear to anyone with eyes that he was Robin’s pride and joy. But not in a creepy way that would get them to star in a TLC show. It was just very evident that she was proud of him and his achievements and that she didn’t mess around when it came down to business.

After one of your dress fittings, she pulled you aside. “There’s one quick thing I need to mention to you. You’ll be getting a formal document in the mail in the next few days. Nothing huge, just a formality that Peter and the team drafted up for you to sign. I hate the word prenup but that’s essentially what this is.” She said in a matter of fact way. “We just need to make sure to dot our i’s and cross our t’s if that makes sense. Get the boring stuff out of the way so that we can focus on showering you and Joey with our love on your special day.”

“No that makes complete sense, just send it over and I’ll sign whatever you need me to. Thank you Robin seriously, for everything. You’ve made planning this entire thing a breeze.”

She shakes her head with a genuine smile, giving you a warm hug. “This has been an honor, I’m so happy for the both of you sweetie. I’ll see you in a few days for brunch at your house? The kids are so excited they won’t stop talking about it.”

“Yes absolutely, I can’t wait either it’s been so long since we’ve gotten both families together it’ll be really fun.”

There weren’t many opportunities for your family to interact with Joe’s and vice versa, unless everyone met at a football game but that wasn’t exactly quality family bonding. That felt more like a collective screaming match where the adults pregamed with beer and the kids wore his jersey. Most of them didn’t really know what was going on in the actual game. So you and Joe were going to host both sets of parents, all of your siblings and their kids in order for everyone to really spend time together before the wedding.

A few days later, you were finalizing the menu with the catering company when Joe came home.

“It’s gonna be like Cheaper by the Dozen in here tomorrow,” he notes, grabbing a Body Armour from the fridge. ���Are we sure we’re ready for this?”

“We kinda have to be. Should we do smoked salmon or shrimp crostinis?” You held up one of each and let him examine them. He snagged the salmon one first and took a bite then did the same with the shrimp.

“Definitely the salmon. What time is everyone getting here?” The catering people jot down their last notes and head out the door after you and Joe thanked them.

You could tell he was going to need time to mentally prepare in case he got overstimulated. “They’ll be here at 1pm, so you can probably get an early workout in and take a nap afterwards,” walking over to him on the other side of the counter, holding his face in your hands. “I know you get cranky when you’re tired and Uncle Joe needs to be at his best tomorrow because the kids will need a QB for their flag football game.”

He wraps his arms around your waist, sticking out his lips that are begging to be kissed. You happily grant his wish, pressing your lips against his, giving him a quick smooch. He asks for a few more, about to get lost in a full make out session when a stack of papers on the counter catch his eye. Joe pulls back so abruptly that your face smacks against his chest.

“Sorry baby,” he cradles your head, reaching around you to grab the piece of paper that’s on top. You take that as your cue to go after his second apology for nearly giving you a concussion. That chest is a brick wall.

The more he skims the words, the tighter his grip gets on the little sheet and the confused look on his face deepens. “Um…what is this?”

“What is what?” You give him a look that matches his energy.

He holds up the paper. “This. What is this? Where did you get it from?”

You look around the room to make sure you aren’t getting Punk’d. “Wait—are you being serious?”

“Do I look like I’m joking,” it wasn’t a question. He’s legitimately starting to look upset. “Who gave this to you?”

“Joe,” you let out a dry chuckle, “your mom did. Said it was a formality and that I should sign it and give it to her so she can hand it off to Peter so your lawyers can process it.” When your fiancé continues to stand there motionless in the middle of the room, that’s when it hits you. “Did—did you not know about this?”

He usually has something to say about everything, so watching him silently shake his head is a little scary. Joe places the first page of the prenuptial agreement on the table with a heavy sigh, visibly trying to compose himself. The man had the patience of a saint, known to have blow ups on the field but that was Football Joe. Off the field Joe was calm and rarely ever let things get to him. You’d probably only heard him yell twice in the entire time you’ve been together. And now he was dead quiet. You didn’t know what to do with that.

“Joe, your mom is just trying to protect you. Get this out of the way so that we can—”

“Please don’t try to defend her right now,” his tone was laced with venom, a seething anger you hadn’t seen before and weren’t too keen on getting familiar with. “I don’t like that this was just drafted, printed and handed to you without my permission. She and Peter shouldn’t have done that. And my mom definitely shouldn’t have ambushed you with this.”

Now he was being dramatic. “Robin didn’t ambush me! She told me a couple days ago and I thought you knew so I didn’t mention it.”

“I would never do that to you,” he says with a pain in his voice that makes your chest clench. “WE, you and I should be talking about this. Not my mom and Peter. Jesus.” He rested his arms on the counter, running his hands through his hair.

You hated seeing him get worked up like this, crossing the room again to place a comforting hand on his back. “Why don’t you talk to her tomorrow, I’m sure she didn’t mean to upset you. She most likely just thought she would do this for you so you didn’t need to worry about it.”

“That’s the thing, this isn’t something she should be doing for me. We’re getting married. You’re going to be my wife. There’s no reason she needs to be handing you documents on my behalf like you’re some fucking stranger. I don’t care how ‘busy’ I am. You come first.” You can feel the tension in his muscles even when he stands up to his normal height. He’s really trying to keep it together, giving you an empty kiss on the cheek before heading into his office to cool off. An hour later you head up to check on him, assuming he has his headphones on and can’t hear you, you find that the door is locked.

Tomorrow’s brunch is going to be very interesting to say the least.

Joe surprised you by being in bed by the time you came upstairs to get ready to go to sleep. You thought for sure he’d be on a run to clear his mind. As soon as you climbed in next to him he put his phone away, wrapping his arms around you and giving your body a squeeze.

Whatever private meeting he had with himself must have done the trick because he was actually letting you be the big spoon for once. His touch was soft and intentional, the previously icy aura was liquified and only warm and cuddly Joe remained. “Are you okay?” You asked him and he nodded without looking at you. He just interlocked your fingers in his before sitting up.

“Switch me.” You knew the little spoon wouldn’t last long. “That’s better,” he sighs kissing your head, feeling at home with your arm draped across his waist.

After a few seconds of silence he mutters, “I’m so sorry this is happening. Are you sure you want to sign up for a lifetime of this?”

You look up to meet Joe’s gaze to see if he’s trying to be funny. “A lifetime of you? I can’t think of anything I would want more. The rest of it is just extra, the good and the bad. As long as I have you I don’t care.”

His shoulders sag once again in relief, “good.” Joe peppers a few kisses on your neck, making his way up to your jaw, taking his sweet time until he got to your lips. A joyous hum leaves his mouth as the kiss grows deeper, each swipe of his tongue against yours makes you feel dizzy…love drunk. Nothing compares to the way that Joe kisses you, sensually careful but hungry at the same time, almost as if this is the last thing he’ll ever get to do. This kiss is different, it’s a promise to always protect you, to never let the outside noise sway what his heart knows is true. He’s found the one person in the world that consistently makes his heart sing and no one—not even his mom—will have the final say. And he was going to make that very clear.

When Joe sluggishly came down the stairs the next day rubbing his eyes after his nap wearing a hoodie and cargo pants, you were just thankful he wasn’t in sweats.

“Hi there Sleeping Beauty, I’ve already gotten a few texts that most of them are about five minutes out.”

“Great,” he grunts, parking himself on the couch, “I’m starving,” he scoots around trying to subtly adjust himself.

Joe stares at you , running his hand down your thigh. “Hungry…for food right?” You give him a pointed look.

“Yeah, yeah for food. What did you think I meant?” He laughs as he catches the pillow you launch his way and scoot far enough away that he can’t grab you.

“Don’t. Today really needs to be a stress free day. Can you promise you will be nice and not yell at your mother?” And with that statement he is no longer in the mood.

“I will not yell at my mom,” he crosses his arms over his chest with a scowl only like a youngest child could. “Can’t promise I’ll be nice.”

Before you can negotiate any further the doorbell rings and your first guests arrive. Nieces and nephews come running in, suffocating you with hugs and the youngest one tugging at Joe’s legs demanding to be picked up. Less than 30 minutes later the entire backyard is filled with kids playing tag, drinking juice boxes while the adults enjoyed the appetizer spread.

Joe wasn’t making it blatantly obvious that he was mad but he wasn’t exactly hiding it either. He kept the greeting with his parents short, keeping his distance throughout the afternoon focused on entertaining the kids and playing the perfect host.

“I just realized I never asked,” Codie, one of Joe’s sister in laws speaks up. “Where are you two going for your honeymoon?”

“Bora Bora! I can’t wait,” you respond, topping off her wine glass.

His brother Dan’s ears perk up. “We were thinking about going there for an anniversary trip. Are you guys staying in a resort?”

Joe shakes his head, “I got us an underwater bungalow. The view is supposed to be insane.”

“Yeah I bet,” your dad notes.

“Take lots of pictures,” his dad adds in.

He waits for a second taking a mental note of his mom’s silence throughout the conversation, nudging you to make sure that you’re on the same page. By the time everyone was gone you needed something stronger than wine. Robin and your mom insisted on helping you clean up but you let them know that the caterers were coming back to grab everything. As you bid your family goodbye and thanked them for coming, your mom whispered in your ear, letting you know that the man inside was a keeper. You responded by telling her you intended on keeping him.

Once the door was fully closed you could breathe a sigh of relief…until you heard Robin ask Joe what was going on with him.

Here we go.

Joe didn’t respond. He just went up to his office and came right back down with the prenup in hand. “Care to explain?”

“Oh,” she looked rather unfazed, “Peter and I thought that—”

“And that’s where you went wrong,” Joe interrupts, voice surprisingly even. “You and Peter don’t get to ‘think.’ You don’t get to do whatever you ‘think’ I need. You have to ask me.”

You can tell she’s visibly taken aback at how this has gone. “It was not at all my intention to go behind your back. You’re just very busy and now with wedding planning and everything else, it just made sense to get it put into place so you’d have one less thing to worry about.”

“Mom, I get that. But you crossed the line here. I’m an adult who would’ve liked to have a mature conversation with the person I am going to marry about a topic that is extremely uncomfortable for everyone. It is not your job to play the middle man here. There is no middle man. This is between y/n and I.”

The tension in the air was getting a little too thick for your liking. You stood next to Joe, running your hand down his arm trying to diffuse the situation as much as possible. “Okay I think you’ve made your point. Robin, I am not at all upset with you, this can all be resolved rather—”

“I am upset with you mom. There was no reason to hand over that document without at least giving me a phone call,” Joe counters, starting to stand in front of you a bit like he’s physically shielding you from her.

“Now Joey I don’t think your mom meant any harm,” Joe’s dad speaks up seeing his wife almost in tears. “Why don’t we all just take a breather here.”

You nod in agreement.

“I’m so sorry, to both of you. In hindsight that wasn’t the best way to go about it but like you said this is uncomfortable. I thought keeping it casual would remove some of that awkwardness and I just made it worse. I really am sorry.”

Joe still seemed unmoved but you really didn’t think she needed to apologize this much. He just told her he appreciated the sentiments but that she needs to recognize that’s he’s an adult, telling them goodnight and immediately heading upstairs.

You’re left to walk them out alone, giving them both hugs goodbye. “Honey I’m so sorry,” Robin states again, “I never want you to think that I don’t love you or that I was intentionally going behind Joe’s back. I was just making sure we have all of our bases covered so we aren’t sweating the small stuff on your big day. I hope you can forgive me.”

“You’re totally fine, I understand. And I agree. I think he just got a little freaked out at the reminder that his life is abnormal. He wants things to be simple and sometimes they just aren’t. That probably stressed him out a little. Or a lot.”

It feels good to leave their tense interaction with her smiling. Even though it didn’t reach her eyes like usual, it was still a small step forward.

“How can you not be upset about this?” Joe asks after brushing his teeth.

You focused on what was going on at your sink, taking your time to complete your skincare routine. “Because I see where both of you are coming from. You have every right to be angry at her for doing this behind your back. But at the same time I understand why she feels like she should get a jump on protecting your assets.”

“Protect my assets…” he scoffs, “…from you? What’s mine is going to be yours.” He hands you a towel after you wash your face, having memorized the steps at this point.

“Yeah ok, legally. But your accomplishments and accolades are yours. That’s how you got here and your mom saw all the blood, sweat and tears that went into you being in the position you are today. She may have overstepped a little but you’re still her baby at then end of the day and sometimes it’s hard for them to recognize that they have adult children who are fully capable of making their own decisions.” He grabs the moisturizer off the counter and places it in your hand as you laugh, whispering thank you. “My mom has done the same to me, not to this extent obviously because we’re in completely different tax brackets but—they just want to make sure we’re okay no matter what.”

Joe leans against the counter, deep in thought. Growing up with his dad coaching it was usually just the two of them, she drove him to basketball and football practices and tournaments, took him to school and worked the entire day at school and came home still ready to dedicate all of her time to him if he asked. “I was too harsh wasn’t I?”

“A teeny bit? Maybe? I do thoroughly appreciate you looking out for me though. Going to bat for me against your mom of all people.”

He shrugs, giving you a hug from behind, resting his chin on your head. “She protects me so somebody’s gotta protect you. That’s what I’m signing up for and I promise to always take that job very seriously.” I should put that in my vows, he tells himself. He leans over a little more to press a kiss against your temple.

“Is that a promise?”

“That is a promise,” he holds out a pinky, making you gasp as you turn around.

“Isn’t a pinky shake you and Ja’Marr’s thing?”

Joe looks at you sheepishly, smiling so wide his eyes crinkle. “I won’t tell him if you don’t.”

You lock your pinky in his, kissing the smile off of his face.

That night before he went to sleep, he texted his mom telling her that he loved her. You gave them privacy when she came over the next day, smiling and hugging it out so you assumed everything went well. You hoped to have open communication with your kids even as adults one day, but did not envy the journey that your parents were constantly navigating. This once tiny person you created and had to make sure to teach them everything was now not only getting married and had established their own life but in Joe’s case everything was heightened. She’s been there through her son being the overlooked player who Urban Meyer said threw like a girl to now if he so much as has a paper cut an entire city of people, a whole fanbase is worried and asking for minute by minute updates on his condition. You couldn’t imagine the whirlwind that must be.

So you were going to sign that prenup whether Joe liked it or not.

“We need to decide on bridal party gifts,” Joe suggests a week later. “I was thinking about getting the guys customized golf carts. They could be delivered straight to their houses after the wedding or I could have them dropped off the day we get and they can drive around the property whenever they need to get somewhere? What sounds better?”

“It sounds like you’ve had this very specific plan and just couldn’t wait to make your big announcement. How am I supposed to compete with that?”

Joe laughs, grabbing his water. “You can give them all Cartier bracelets, have the wedding date engraved on the inside. That’d be pretty cool.”

Cool and expensive. “Don’t do that, I can actually hear what you’re thinking.” Curse him for knowing you so well. We’re only gonna do this once, might as well do it right. Make it a great experience for everyone we love.”

“Fine. You’re right. But we are not doing an ice sculpture then.” He gives you a blank stare but says nothing, both of you know that it’ll be coming back up sooner rather than later. “There is something else we need to talk about though.”

He rolls his eyes, deciding this is the perfect time to get up and put his plate in the sink, like you can’t just follow him. “We really don’t have to do this.”

“Oh but we do. Joe seriously we’re gonna have to figure this out. It’s important.”

He lets out a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling before putting his eyes back on you. “I’m just uncomfortable with any conversation that plans a breakup. I don’t ever want to breakup.”

“Then let’s not breakup and we won’t even have to worry about any of this. We’ll discuss the details, I’ll sign it and we’ll never talk about it ever again. Deal?”

You place a hand on his cheek and he kisses the inside of your hand before he speaks. “Deal. I can’t wait to marry you. Even got a countdown on my phone.”

“That’s probably the single most adorable thing you’ve ever said.” He pulls his phone out to show you a countdown app with a timer down to the hour the ceremony is supposed to start. A picture from your engagement shoot is set as the background. “I can’t wait either. I love you, so much.”

“I love you more.”

[puckinghischier]

Can we talk about how hard Luke would try to be helpful while you’re on your period? I just feel like all of his efforts would be so endearing

oh this is so perfect bc my body decided to give me its own christmas present yesterday 🤩

he would be so attentive, god love him. he’d even have his own tracker on his phone so he can be prepared and make sure he always has your favorites stocked when the time comes.

the second he starts seeing the signs, he’s making your coffee or tea, whichever you prefer, in the mornings and having it waiting on you with your favorite breakfast pastry. on your worst day he’s bringing it to you in bed, heated blanket on his arm.

if he has a day off from practice or gets back early from a morning skate, he’s assuming all housework duties. he’s making sure the kitchen is clean, bringing you your favorite comfort meal from your favorite restaurant, doing the laundry, tidying up the living room. he wants to make sure you don’t have to lift a finger.

he secretly loves when you’re having a rough cramp day, if he’s honest. not because he enjoys seeing you in pain, it’s the opposite really. it breaks his heart that you have to go through this every month, knowing there’s nothing he can do to take the pain away. but he loves how clingy you get, whining every time he gets up to leave the bed or the couch, even if it’s to get something you asked him to get.

he’s constantly calling and texting you to see how you’re feeling and asking if you need anything when he’s not with you. the guys in the locker room all make fun of him for it, but he could care less. it’s the least he can do. you’re constantly taking all of this on every other week of the month, doing all you can to make his life easier, wanting him to come home and be able to relax and focus on resting before or after games. so he’ll gladly take the responsibility on for this one week a month, to show you how much he appreciates you and loves you.

you become such a homebody when you’re on your period and luke eats it up. he loves nothing more than being lazy with you, and he gets at least an entire week of it each month. you refuse any offer of plans, not wanting to have to put on ‘real’ clothes, content with living in one of luke’s oversized shirts, period panties, and a loose pair of his boxers. and luke loves coming home to the sight more than he could ever express.

you love the effort he takes each month to make sure you’re comfortable and cared for. you don’t know how you did it, but you truly hit the jackpot with him. you hear him constantly on the phone with ellen, double checking which painkillers work best for cramps and what the best remedy for period induced headaches. you crawl into a freshly made bed every night, despite rotting on the couch all day. you get baths drawn for you with soothing smells and low light, like either joining you or sitting in the floor with you and telling you all about his day. you have a never ending supply of sweets and baked goods, thanks to his bakery runs every morning.

you always ask him how you can repay him, but he always tells you the same thing. “what you do for me every day is enough. being able to do this for you is repayment in itself. this is what i’m supposed to do. it’s my job to make sure you’re comfortable, taken care of, and loved.”

of course, the words always make your hormonal self emotional, tears falling every time at how much you love him and how lucky you are he loves you. but then he ruins the moment, adding in “plus, the post-period sex is always great, so that’s a good incentive, too.” you swat at him, telling him to shut up.

“i’m just kidding, sweetheart. i love doing this for you, seriously,” he’d back track, nuzzling his face into your neck to place small kisses there.

rolling your eyes, you respond with “you might like doing this for me, but you weren’t kidding, don’t lie.”

he gives you a “welll….” look, making you laugh, forgetting all about the ache in your lower abdomen.

[hiiraya]

loml

pairing: natasha romanoff  x reader 

words: ~3.3k

warnings: angst, happy ending (?), literally just self-indulgent writing, messy writing, listen to loml by taylor swift to get in the sad mood

a/n: merry christmas everyone! the last thing I posted was january of 2022 and it's literally about to be 2025 - I've been in a reminiscing mood lately and this was something I've had in the drafts for months, I figured I should just release it to get it out of my system. your girl has been missing someone bad bro and the urge to tag them in this is insane ♡ anyways, hope they see this lmao

“Have a safe flight and text me when you land, yeah?”

“I will, I will. Get home safe and update me as well, okay?”

You release your cousin from your hold, giving their shoulder a quick squeeze as they pull away. You do a last minute check with them to make sure they hadn’t forgotten anything important - something you were always prone to do when travelling by yourself. The memory of you almost missing your international flight because you had rushed home and back to the airport within record speed, all because you had forgotten your passport of all things. 

“I’ll fly out to see you next time, so you can show me around.” You smile.

“Are you guys serious? I told you to leave early so that this exact thing wouldn’t happen!”

Your eyebrows immediately furrow at the familiar voice, catching one last glance of your cousin as they enter the security screening area, waving to them while you mouth one last ‘text me when you land!’ as they leave your sight, before turning around to find the source of the voice.

No way it’s her, you thought. What’s she doing here?

As you get closer to the arrivals board, your questions are answered. Standing there in all her glory, is the one woman you never thought you’d lay your eyes on again.

“Natasha?”

You see the puzzled look on her face as she registers your voice before she even lays her eyes on you. Watching as the confusion turns to irritation - whether it was towards you or whoever was on the other side of the phone, you couldn’t tell (most likely both) - you watch as a deep sigh she releases as she glances at the board in front of her once again.

“-that’s another 10 hours before you guys even land.” She sighs, exasperation lacing her voice.

“Hey, listen if you need help-”

She holds a finger up to silence you, eyes meeting yours in a piercing glance. “I don’t need help, and especially not from you Y/N L/N.”

At her words, you look down, the sight of your shoes a welcome one as you take a second to recover. Honestly, you thought to yourself, I deserved that. 

“Yes, it’s Y/N- no I did not! I swear I didn’t know that they were here.” You hear her mutter from beside you. Deciding to save the both of you from further embarrassment, you turn your attention elsewhere, wondering what your cousin would say once you eventually tell them about who you ran into immediately after they left.

You lift your head back up when you hear Natasha mumble "you guys pick the day before Christmas of all days to be late for your flight” followed by a quick goodbye before hanging up the phone, watching her scope the airport for her next step. 

You could just leave and pretend this ever happened.

“Come on, Nat, I promise I just want to help.” You find yourself saying instead. “I can take you to your hotel when they get here.”

Well, there's no going back from that now.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Are you seriously asking me that right now?”

You really needed to stop opening your mouth.

“Okay, you know what, I deserve that.” You pause. “Listen, I’m not going to force you to come with me, but the offer is still there if you want it. You’ll get a free ride, plus you can use my apartment to rest and freshen up while you wait.”

 -x-

"I can't believe you talked me into this."

You spare a glance to Natasha, who was currently sitting in your passenger seat.

"You're the one that followed me to the car?"

She rolls her eyes at your confused tone, choosing to ignore what you said and instead checking her phone - most likely waiting for an update from whoever she was speaking to on the phone before. "I can't believe they missed their flight."

"Who's they?"

"Yelena, Maria, Wanda," she answers. "Oh, and Yelena's friend Kate too. I don't think you've met her."

You bit the inside of your cheek, because you already know that you didn't get to meet anyone named Kate while you were still together. You honestly didn't get to meet many of Natasha's friends whenever visited her - it was something you always fought over. It felt like she was ashamed of you, always wanting to keep you hidden, a secret she never planned on sharing with the world.

You refrain from asking any follow up questions - if Natasha wanted you to know more she would tell you.

Instead, you ask: "Did they manage to catch the next flight out?"

She nods. "I'm honestly surprised they did, considering how expensive it probably would've been. But knowing Maria, she probably would've pulled some strings to make it work."

Natasha finally looks up from her phone as you come to a stop, looking at the building you had just parked in front of.

"Where are we?"

"My apartment, I figured we could drop off your bags and you can freshen up before I show you around." You open the door for Natasha before moving to grab her bags from the trunk.

You lead her inside, setting her bags down in the living room before turning around to face Natasha - holding your arms out as you gesture to your living space. It's the first time she's ever stepped foot into this place, having only seen it through a phone screen since you were the one who would fly out to visit her when you were still together.

"I'll grab you some towels so you can freshen up, but make yourself at home." You say, gesturing for her to follow you down a hallway. "The bathroom is the first door to your left, there should be a spare toothbrush under the sink- wait did I give to my cousin? Well, we can grab you one while we're out but everything you need should be here."

You know you're rambling but you don't stop in fear of saying something stupid (which knowing you, is highly likely).

"If you want to take a nap, the guest room is just a little further down the hall on the right - I just changed the sheets so everything should be fresh."

It's not the way you wanted to be showing Natasha around your home for the first time, but you'll take what you can get. It'd be so easy to waltz back to the way things were, before everything fell apart but you didn't have the right to that anymore. You weren't a part of her life anymore.

You didn't know if she already had someone new in her life, maybe you were overstepping in so many ways and that it was best to just keep your distance. After all, you did promise that you just wanted to help. You were here to keep her company until the girls arrived and take her to the hotel when they finally did get here.

You know it's for the better to just move on, that after today she'll be gone and it'll be like she never made a reappearance in your life. But how could you when you know deep down that you still haven't fully moved on and that she'll always hold your heart in her hands?

Natasha's voice cuts off your reverie, bringing you back to the present as you hand her the towels.

"Give me an hour to shower and rest my feet for a bit, I wanna go out and explore while we wait."

 -x-

"Do you see that one over there? That's a hammerhead shark! They're one of the most powerful sharks in the ocean."

Natasha hears the little girl gasp, watching their eyes going wide with wonder. She can't help the small laugh that escapes when she sees the young girl lean closer towards the glass before loudly whispering, "is it going to eat us?"

You laugh softly, and Natasha can't help but think that she's missed hearing the sound of your laugh, something she thought she wouldn’t hear again. It comforts her slightly to know that it hasn't changed after all these years, and that  she can still easily recognise the sound as being yours only.

"It won't eat us! Sharks don't eat humans," she hears you explain. "They're more interested in fish and seals, than they are humans. But they are really strong swimmers, and they can smell things from miles away - even in water!"

She'd been watching you answer questions about sharks for the past 5 minutes, after a curious little girl ran up to while you were looking at the shark tank and asked if you knew what type of shark was swimming in front of the glass.

"Do sharks talk to each other?"

"They don't talk like we do, but they do communicate by using their bodies and how they move through the water. Some sharks even make sounds by rubbing their teeth together, kind of like a secret language that only they can hear."

It doesn't take long for the girl's mother to find the three of you, sighing in relief as she sees her daughter, looking up at you apologetically.

"Sorry, she's probably been asking you a million questions."

You give the woman a friendly smile and shake your head. "It was nothing, I loved answering all of her questions." You tell her. "It looks like you might have a future marine biologist on your hands."

"Let's leave the lovely ladies to enjoy the rest of their date, bubba."

"Oh- it's not-"

"We're not-"

The mother and daughter are already walking off before either of you could finish your sentences, leaving you and Natasha standing in front of the shark exhibit with red cheeks and thundering heartbeats. 

Natasha catches your eyes as you glance at her in a shy glance, and she knows it's too late. The warmth that passes through her as you smile, the same warm and knowing smile that you used to give her when everything was still okay was almost enough to bring her down to her knees.

You interrupt before her thoughts can spiral any further, clearing your throat before gesturing with your head the direction of the next exhibit.

"Shall we keep going?"

 -x-

Natasha sits across from you at a small café by the beach. You mention to her that it was your secret place, one that you go to when you wanted time to slow down and just have a moment to catch your breath. After the little incident at the aquarium, you guys decided it was best to just sit and people watch for the time being to avoid any more awkward interactions.

The warmth emanating from the cup of coffee did little to chase away the little chills that ran down her spine every time Natasha caught you gaze lingering on her for longer than you must've realised.

She told you about the plans that she and the girls had made for their vacation while you filled her in on your own life, telling her about your cousin that had just recently come to visit you just before Christmas.

"I'm glad you chose to come with me." You admit after a pause in conversation, voice soft. She turns to look at you, your eyes meeting hers with such an intensity it made her breath get caught in her throat. "I missed getting to talk to you like this."

She can tell that you spoke without thinking, the widening of your eyes giving you away. You look away, muttering a quiet "sorry" before lifting your drink to your lips in an attempt to hide the flush of your cheeks.

She was supposed to be over you. She'd told herself time and time again that she had moved on, but seeing you again, and being here with you, she couldn't deny that she was still in love with you. Having you so close yet so unreachable leaves an ache in her chest.

Throughout the time you two had been sat at the café, she watched you with fondness at the way your eyes lit up while you spoke with excitement in your voice about the things you and your cousin had gotten up to in the week they were with you; Natasha realises that she missed you too - and the comfort that you brought her just by simply being near.

"Nat? You okay?" The worry in your voice only deepens the ache in her heart.

"Yeah, no, sorry - I'm okay." She answers with a shaky nod, breathing deeply. She allows herself to feel her emotions, knowing that it would only do harm if she tried to deny herself this moment with you.

"I missed you too."

The sadness settles deep within her chest, the way you looked so shocked at her words - and she wonders if you were expecting her dismiss your words.

Her phone pings loudly from where it was placed on the table, the text tone sounding off four times in a row as her screen lights up between the two of you.

Natasha!! We've landed :D - Wanda

Sestra, we're on our way to the hotel now, tell lover girl to drop you off now - Yelena

Hi Nat, sorry again - we'll be there in 30 minutes! - Kate

I'll check us in if we make it to the hotel first, Nat, just let us know when you're there - Maria

You both watch as each text pops up on her phone, knowing that your time together was coming to an end.

Natasha watches as you ponder for a moment - wondering if you were going to add on to your words from before now that she's admitted that she missed you too. For a second it does seem like you're about to say something, but instead you just shake your head slightly to yourself, clearing your throat and as you look away, flagging down a waiter to pay for the meal you shared.

"We should probably get going if we want to get to the hotel at the same time as them."

She allows herself a moment to watch as you gather everything, absentmindedly listening to you talk about leaving now so we don't hit traffic - though I guess it's fair to make them wait, considering they made you wait like 10 hours, that's a practically a whole day wasted where you guys could've been sightseeing!

Natasha knows your putting on a brave front - she can see it in your eyes as you gather your wallet and keys, but she begrudgingly gets up after you pay for the bill, walking back with you to your car.

Already dreading the moment she has to say goodbye.

-x-

"Well, I guess this is where I leave you."

Pulling up at the front of the hotel, you catch a glance of Yelena, Kate and Wanda through the window. Even though you couldn't see her, you knew Maria wouldn't be too far away. Probably checking everyone in, you assumed as you parked your car near the entrance.

You do your best to avoid looking at Natasha, taking your time in getting out and grabbing her bags from the trunk, knowing this could very well be the last time you see her again. The thought alone breaks your heart all over again - you can recall all the times you've begged the universe to let your paths cross once more. Now that your wish has been granted and you're preparing to say goodbye to her once again, you deeply feel the loss of her from your life before it's even happened.

She's already watching you as you close the trunk. You hope that she can't see the tears that have been slowly building up since you started the drive to the hotel. You refuse to let yourself hope that the look in her eyes could mean anything order than gratitude.

"Thank you, Y/N, for today." She tells you softly.

"It's was nothing, Nat," you say with a smile, before softly adding, "you're welcome and I hope you guys have a Merry Christmas."

Getting lost in the silence that falls between you; you miss the way she's looking at you as you stare down at your shoes, waiting for her to grab her things and go so you can drive back to your apartment and sulk for the rest of the week. You wonder if she can see the way your hands are shaking as you wait for the inevitable goodbye.

"Y/N?"

You hum in response, not trusting your voice to stay steady if you decided to use actual words.

"I had a really good time today."

You tilt your head in curiosity. You've had a hard time all day trying to gauge if Natasha was having enjoying herself or not. There's no doubt in your mind that she would've said something if she wasn't.

"And it got me thinking," she continues. "I don't know- maybe I'm reading into everything wrong, and you can absolutely say no. You'll probably say no, because this is crazy, but I had to say something before I lose my mind-"

"Nat." You interrupt. As endearing as it was to hear her ramble on, to see her getting more and more flustered as she kept talking, you knew she'd work herself up before she every got to what she actually wanted to say.

"Breathe, love."

You nod encouragingly after she takes a deep breath, giving her time to gather her thoughts.

"Maybe it doesn't have to be so wrong, you know?" She starts. "To try again."

You try to hide the shock that you feel, but can't stop the way your eyes widen ever so slightly at her words. Never in a million years did you expect her to even say yes to spending the day with you, let alone suggest giving your relationship another go.

Does she mean just a friendship or an actual relationship?

Is she just saying that because of today?

What if she realises she doesn't actually mean that later on?

What if this was just a joke and she was just waiting for you to say yes so she can go "aha! I was just kidding as if I'd be serious."?

What if-

"We're different people now, don't you think?"

Confused but curious to know what else you had to say, she nods. "I'd say we are."

"We're older than we were before." You add. "We know a lot more about ourselves now, I'm not the scared kid I used to be."

You're scared of making the same mistakes you did all those years ago. But you also know that you're more than willing to learn from those mistakes; to stay and communicate to make things work instead of running away at the first sign of trouble. Because if there's anything you want more in the world, it's to make this work with her.

But just as much as you are scared, you can't help but be excited. Excited and honoured to learn more about this new Natasha, and fall in love with her all over again. You can't wait to find out what stayed the same, and what changed about her. Whatever she was willing to share with you, you'd gladly take.

"I could love you properly this time."

She gasps softly, and your heart pounds at the prospect of already scaring her away.

The thought of her friends seeing this happening through the window of the hotel briefly crosses your mind - you wonder if they'd approve of you making a return to Natasha's life or if they'll make you work for it after the way things ended between you two.

But she smiles, stepping into your personal space to wrap her arms around your neck and all thoughts leave your mind. The only thing you can focus on is Natasha pulling you closer so her words are only for your ears and your ears only to hear.

"I could love you properly this time too."

-----

@sadonism

[jinhyun]

@sungshinesmuse no but seriously they’re both at a stage where they just need to be reassured that there’s no one else but them for each other 😭😭😭

yeah, he really thought he went too far with the flirting and physical contact, and was ready to hold it back if it made her uncomfortable :( he’s truly been the most patient bean kdñsjs y/n please release him from his pining suffering 🥲

let’s hope their cute dynamic won’t be affected by dahye and they’ll get to talk about their feelings soon enough<3

thank you so much! i hope you’re having a lovely holiday too 💝

◇ 21. convo starter

◇ heart out

◇ hwang hyunjin x reader | best friend’s brother au

when your long-term boyfriend left you for someone else, not only were you left to deal with a broken heart, but also with the discouragement of never finding true love in your life.

after all, you were completely unaware of the fact that your best friend’s little brother fell head over heels for you the moment he first saw you six years ago, and he’d be damned not to show you, firstly, that he was no longer the teenage boy your mind made him up to be, and, secondly, that he would be the man to step up and love you right.

author’s note: hello everyone, sorry for the delay 🥹 looking at it there’s actually a lot of texts in this part lol it took me a while to write ngl. i hope you guys enjoy this part, and as always, if you do please don’t hesitate to let me know your thoughts on it! and since i’m posting this on christmas eve i wish those of you who celebrate it a merry one<3

tag list: @jehhskz @iknowyouknowminho @doohnut @saintcosette @lailac13 @kayleefriedchicken @rikibun @yongbokkiesworld @seungzsmin @beautifulcolorgarden @hyunetopia @velvetmoonlght @automaticpersonabatpaper @httpdwaekki @brinnalaine @wondering-out-loud @feelikecinderella @nujeskz @amarecerasus @liknws @nhyunn @midsoulz @tirena1 @tinyelfperson @thatonexcgirl @iovecb97 @hynier @phenomenalgirl9 @your-favorite-pirate @jin-from-the-block @yearofthetiger25 @quokkacidal @stayconnecteed @kwanisms @yoonguurt @143hyunes @iiriam @cookielixie @hyunlvrs @allyrarara @machaandlofi @mehli-00 @justiceforvillains @minhosprettywife @whats-my-question @armystay89 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @hyeon-yi @skzstannie @onlyhyunjin

[mostlyintact]

I debated with myself about it for a bit, but my heart wasn't in it. So.

To the fellow SFTH lovers, interact with the post to let me know you exist so I can give you a follow (need more of them in my dash) ❤️

Thank you!

[suzukiblu]

Day twenty-six of “Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it” behind the cut. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Hey there, babe,” Bernard says, and Kon feels him flash Tim an easy grin as he rubs his fingertips up the back of his neck in little strokes. “Color?” 

“Green,” Tim says, simple and matter-of-fact, and Kon apparently actually still had some brain left to wreck because hearing Tim’s voice again and hearing Tim’s voice say “green” just reduced it all to bubbling glop.

“Nice,” Bernard says, then adds conversationally: “Your boy was really good, just stayed cuddled up to me all cute the whole time and got real excited for playtime. He definitely missed you, though. Pined a little bit at the window and all, you know how pets get.” 

“Tim,” Kon says without making any real conscious decision to, and it comes out fucking breathy. Tim drops a kiss in behind his ear; squeezes his and Bernard’s linked hands once more before dropping his hand down to his thigh and stroking down to hook underneath it. Kon makes some kind of a noise, he thinks, but can’t hear it over his own thrumming heartbeat. “Tim, I–Rob, can I–” 

“Stay, pet,” Tim murmurs, steadier than any other voice he knows, and everything in Kon’s head that isn’t about him instantly dissolves into nothing. It’s–nothing. It’s all nothing. There’s nothing else there at all. 

“Seriously, you two are way too good at that,” Bernard says, which Kon’s pretty sure he only actually hears because Bernard is Tim-adjacent enough to count as a thing that’ll stay in his head right now. Tim kisses his pulse; squeezes the underside of his thigh. 

“Practice makes perfect,” Tim murmurs, and Kon’s whole brain evaporates and takes everything that isn’t floaty melty-soft rightness with it. They’ve never–they’ve never done this before. 

They’ve done this too many fucking times to even count. 

“Clearly, yeah,” Bernard says with a breathless laugh, and Tim’s fingertips brush in along Kon’s rim and up against where it’s stretched around Bernard’s cock. Kon feels too blissed-out to even react for the contact, but it feels good. Not quite as good as the cock inside him and arms around him, maybe, but still really, really good. 

It’s Tim, so obviously it does. 

“You did a good job,” Tim observes musingly, rubbing just one finger in along the seam right where they’re joined. Kon moans this time, though it’s so quiet he barely even hears it himself, and Bernard buries a rough huff in against his hair. “He’s a lot more relaxed.” 

“Feels like it, yeah,” Bernard says, still a little breathless as he presses a kiss in against Kon’s temple and squeezes his arms around him a little tighter. “Like I’ve got an entire friggin’ punching bag sitting on my dick, except sexy. Dunno how that works but I’m into it, not gonna lie.” 

“Not really surprised to hear that, considering,” Tim says, and then very gently slides a fingertip up into Kon’s body beside Bernard’s dick, easy as anything. Kon is definitely not the only one who hears himself moan this time. “Mm. He took that really well, didn’t he.” 

“Jesus, Tim,” Bernard says, his voice a little strangled. “Did you not just color over this idea?” 

“If I hadn’t taken a minute, I wasn’t going to be able to do it as well as my boy deserves,” Tim replies. Kon feels . . . blurry, a little, and isn’t sure what they’re talking about. But then Tim just gently works another finger up inside him and Bernard makes a tight little noise against his temple and he buries another moan in the other’s shoulder and decides he doesn’t really care anyway. It’s fine. Tim’ll tell him if there’s anything he needs to do. Or . . . know, he guesses. 

“Oh, but I’m supposed to last for this?” Bernard says, and it comes out borderline a wheeze. 

“You’ve got better stamina than me on a normal day, babe,” Tim replies, sounding amused, and Kon feels him take a moment to give Bernard an affectionate little smile that he really wishes he could actually see. 

It’s not . . . it’s not like it’s for him anyway, but . . . 

“Now he tries to win me over with flattery,” Bernard grumbles, then laughs even more breathlessly than the last time and curls his fingers against the back of Kon’s neck and around his fingers. “I’m getting Batted right now, aren’t I.” 

“You’re getting Timmed, babe,” Tim hums, leaning up over Kon’s back to press a kiss to Bernard’s mouth. Kon can feel that too, and it’s a soft and familiar and lingering thing, and they both clearly know how to expect the other to kiss; clearly’ve done it–clearly’ve done it–

Too many fucking times to even count, Kon thinks. 

His gut sort of–tightens, a little, something weirdly longing twisting up inside it, and he wants . . . he thinks he wants . . . 

He really wants kissed right now, he thinks, and buries his face in even tighter against Bernard’s shoulder. 

They’re being really nice to him. He doesn’t need to be–greedy, or whatever.

[flock-of-cassowaries]

Yes.

…but also— this pre-supposes that Jack Crawford can do his fucking job.

My personal theory is that Behavioural Sciences is just the backwater to which they exile The Guys Who Microwave Fish.

Like, the agents they can’t fire (because god forbid they go rogue and talk about the Thing That Happened in ‘86) …but like also, no one can stand working with them.

(Also, somewhat more seriously - incredibly enjoyable and brainwormy media aside - “behavioural science” aka criminal profiling is really just astrology for cops.)

Do I have a Hannibal-universe OC who is a lawyer who despises Jack Crawford and co for their incredibly clown-shoes operation, and who has made it her mission to burn them down, post-Hannibal-escape shitshow?

No, not really, because I am a hack and creating OCs from whole cloth is like pulling teeth for me.

Instead, I just imported the lawyer GILF from HBO Succession (Gerri Kellman, my belusted-after) and tweaked her area of practice, professional history, and level of idealism to fit my needs.

But yeah, if that character were real, people would steer clear of her at social events, lest she corner them and embark on an utterly exhausting lecture on how up until the 90s, pigs law enforcement officers used to consult psychics for “advice” on cases.

And now that that’s fallen out of fashion, cops have criminal profilers for the same purpose.

That purpose being to help them generate the fig leaf of probable cause where no evidence actually exists.

If you let her go long enough, she might even get into the details of the Guy Paul Morin case (cw CSA, if you look it up; Morin was wrongfully convicted) and the Kaufman Report.

She and her husband are very rarely invited to dinner parties these days.

[yurinaa-world]

Hi! Could you make an artist reader? Basically a painter who draws his partner or cats, etc?

With the characters Aventurine, Sampo, Moze, Dan Heng (I'm using this with a translator so I don't know if it's spelled correctly...)

2#"𝓓𝓻𝓪𝔀 𝓶𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓱 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵𝓼"

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Aventurine, Sampo, & Moze x Gender-Neutral reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a reader who's an artist

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff, & Spelling mistakes

💫Dan Heng's part is here: 💫

💫𝒜𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑒 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝑒𝓃𝒾𝑜𝓇 𝑀𝒶𝓃𝒶𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝐼𝒫𝒞 𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓉𝑒𝑔𝒾𝒸 𝐼𝓃𝓋𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒟𝑒𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉"

“Not bad, not bad at all. You really know what catches my good side.”

It was supposed to be a gift painting of him, your delicate, nimble fingers first sketched it out before picking out colours and finally taking a brush and painting over the canvas sketch with extreme eye for detail.

He always loved to barge in whenever he felt like it, but now it is a very bad moment! He saw it when you were almost finished! Seriously, you wanted to surprise him so badly. You whirl around cheeks already flushed from the intensity of your concentration, now burning hotter with embarrassment. 

"Y-you weren’t supposed to see it yet!" you stammer, instinctively moving to shield the canvas with your arms, though it's far too late. He smirks, leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed. 

"Oh, come on. You can't blame me for being curious. I mean, you’ve been holed up in here for days, looking all suspicious."

He goes silent for a bit, staring at the painting for a while…

He's sort of left completely speechless by you.

“Wow, what detail. How about I put this up in my office.” he grinned, while you completely protested the idea because you weren’t finished 

“No way! It’s not finished.”

💫𝒮𝒶𝓂𝓅𝑜 𝒦𝑜𝓈𝓀𝒾 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝒾𝓁𝓋𝑒𝓇-𝒯𝑜𝓃𝑔𝓊𝑒𝒹 𝒮𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓂𝒶𝓃"

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” 

He whined and cried till his throat went dry, but even then that wouldn’t stop his extremely annoying cries. All while you listen and skim through your supplies, nit-picking at what you need all while your canvas is stood in front of a Sampo who’s tied to the chair. 

“Dear Sampo just wanted to make some profits, and those paintings have been there for years, I was just doing you a favour!”

You only sigh at his words. You don’t like to sell your painting, especially with a vendor like Sampo of all people. It may have been ancient yet you didn’t want to get rid of it.

the idea that it may be hanging on a wall in some random place, bought by Sampo’s tricks at a higher price, gave you an unpleasant feeling in your mouth. “You are something, you know,” you whispered, taking a palette knife and twirling it around in your fingers. Not for a show of power—even if you’d like Sampo to see it that way—but because it helped your mind stay focused.

At an exaggerated rate, Sampo shrank back while his chair was making a squeaky noise, signifying his discomfort. “I mean, come on, be realistic, let’s think logically about it! I’m only the middleman in the process here, attempting to make your raw talent the new trend!” 

“You’re right, so in turn for your service I decided to give you something to sell as well.” you smile with joy, as you sit down on the chair in front of my canvas, which makes him sweat dearly on what you’re about to do. 

You lean back, tilting your head as if to get a better view of your subject. “You’d make a... striking muse, don’t you think?” Sampo’s cheeks flush a deep red. “Striking? I—I mean, I am a good-looking guy, but—wait a second! What kind of striking are we talking about here?” 

“You're right, someone would like a painting of a guy like you, I wonder in what position though,” you mutter that last part but you know he heard “Your beauty will sell for millions just like you wanted.”

💫𝑀𝑜𝓏𝑒 “𝒮𝒽𝒶𝒹𝑜𝓌 𝒢𝓊𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒳𝒾𝒶𝓃𝓏𝒽𝑜𝓊 𝒴𝒶𝑜𝓆𝒾𝓃𝑔”

“Moze.”

One call of his name and he’ll be landing at your feet to see what you need him to do. Appearing behind you, his hands gently landing on your shoulders—still scaring you to death, before whispering “You called” under his breath, yet loud enough for you to hear.

Immediately turning around and clasping your hands with his, along with a giant smile on your face. “Moze! Could you be my subject!”

He (easily) caved and became what you needed him to be most, your subject in your painting. He’s so awkward when posing! You had to personally move him around a couple of times since he’s made all of the poses you put him in awkward somehow.

Which leaves you to have your hand on your chin, staring at him with a precise gaze, that is the same as his, yet, yours was made to find beauty in hopeless things.

 “Hah…how should I pose you.”

Taking his one hand in yours while your other hand goes to his hood, you gently pull it down, revealing his slightly messy hair. “You hide so much behind this,” you say softly, smoothing a few strands away from his face. 

“I think… maybe something natural,” you mumble, tilting your head to examine him from another angle. You guide him to sit on the chair near the window, where the soft light filters through the curtains. “Lean back, like this,” you murmur, adjusting his shoulders to relax against the chair. “And look out the window… like you’re lost in thought.”

Moze does as you say, his hands gripping the edge of the chair a little too tightly. You shake your head with a small laugh and pry his fingers loose, placing one hand on his lap and letting the other dangle over the side of the chair. “There. Try to look more relaxed.”

He’s honestly trying the best he can, his shoulders less tense and face less serious—even though that’s basically all he knows to do. “Thank you.” You smile gently at him before pecking him on the lips as a thank you, before finally starting at your sketch.

He can’t forget your pretty smile. He helped you. He wishes he had his hood on now.

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[energ00n]

I keep thinking back to when you mentioned Prima is like one of those people who loves kids but doesn’t want them in terms of how he views apprentices, how did meeting Orion change his mind?

lol Prima 100% would just appear out of nowhere the second anyone mentioned Orion because that’s his apprentice and I hope it’s all good things you’re about to say. He only does this to the Primes and it terrifies them, being the eldest comes with scaring privileges.

Prima instead of not wanting was more of… didn’t care for it. He still doesn’t need an apprentice and meeting Orion didn’t change his opinion on the matter

The second half however is still correct HAHAHA He positively adores Orion. Prima in my vision really doesn’t take a lot of things seriously/to heart but if you’re really talking badly of Orion he will take that first first born privileges

[two-white-butterflies]

gave you all my best me's

Description: Aemond needs a fake-girlfriend. It's a good thing that he has leverage over his nephew's ex-girlfriend.

Pairing: (past! jacaerys velaryon/reader), aemond targaryen/reader

Notes: I wanted to rewrite this fanfic before writing a bonus chapter. I'm not a big fan of the old version of this: you're losing me. TWO PARTS SO COMMENT TO GET TAGGED.

It is a beautiful thing to be admired for your talents, but when the media begins digging into your personal life - it is difficult to decipher where one draws a line. "When are you getting married?" The late-night host asks.

You answer him with an awkward chuckle.

Despite your social media branding - you longed for marriage, a white picket fence, and children. "There's so much more to life than getting married," you pursed your lips into a thin line. You could already see yourself in tomorrow morning's tabloids - trending on Twitter AND Tiktok with a witty hashtag.

"I agree, but for other people, it's a milestone moment for them. Is it not in your plans to get married in the future? Or is it an if it happens, it happens kind of thing?" The man continues to inquire.

You forced a smile on your face.

You did want to get married, but it's not in Jace's plans. He's the type of man who goes from hotel to hotel - the type of man who doesn't have his own apartment because he likes to act like a cowboy. Jace is the type of man who'd wear speedos with Birkenstocks. He does not ever see himself getting married, but he sees himself staying with you forever.

"I, unfortunately, don't see myself getting married. I mean respect for the people who are married, but for me, it's not really a necessity because I already see myself staying with this one person my entire life, and for me, I don't feel the need to get married." You explained, echoing the words that Jace whispered to you last night.

"- but yeah, if it happens, it happens." You rolled your eyes.

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You placed your Le Smoking YSL Jacket loudly on the table, hoping that Jacaerys would take a hint and know that you've finally arrived. It has already been three-weeks after the viral interview, and he didn't seem bothered by the attention.

"I missed you," you smiled at him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He always smells like vanilla. "- did you watch the interview?" You asked, pulling away from the embrace. He returns back to typing on his 3-year-old Macbook. "I watched it," he confirms.

You took a deep breath, which probably means that his family has already watched it. "I'm sorry my PR manager forgot to warn me. I seriously felt like a deer caught in headlights," you complained, pausing to see if he was mad.

Jacaerys is the oldest son of Laenor Velaryon and Rhaenyra Targaryen. He is the scion of the two oldest families in America. His great-great-great something on both sides came to this country on the Mayflower - and thus, they took extreme precautions when it came to safeguarding their privacy. Rhaenyra was already adamant about allowing her son to write his little books, and now that you were in the picture...

"It's fine, I hope they stop asking about that marriage thing." A sigh escapes his mouth, and you can hear him clacking on his keyboard - typing without an end. "Maybe it's a sign for us to talk seriously about the topic." You begin.

"Marriage is for people-pleasers. We spend a lot of money on this one celebration where everyone gets to eat and dance, but marriage doesn't mean being with someone forever." He articulates, unable to say, that he doesn't want to repeat his parents' mistakes and that he doesn't want to live in a bickering home.

"I want to get married," you blurted out.

He responds with silence. It is obvious that he is thinking of an appropriate response - but you know that the answer is no. "I have everything that I could ever want in the world, a perfect career, a perfect boyfriend, a perfect house. The only things that I want now are marriage and babies, Jace." You continued to explain, and his face dropped to the floor.

You reach for his hands, entwining them with yours. He gazes up from his laptop, and he stares right into your eyes. "We're not going to be like your parents." You promised.

"We aren't a hundred percent sure of that. I can't even promise you everlasting love, I can't even promise you that I can love you with the same strength every day." He tilts his head. Which leads you to believe that the only reason he hasn't married you yet - is because he doesn't love you at all.

"I know, but you choose me every day. You choose us every day, and that is the same thing as love." You persuaded.

You could sense the reluctance in his movements. "We're fighting all the time. I haven't seen you in almost a month. Getting married is not going to fix our problems." His voice softens. He loves you with all of his heart, but he doesn't know how to show that love without first ruining it.

"Let's break up," he proposed.

He was expecting you to say no, like all the other times before, but this time - you retreat silently. You grab your things and you leave his hotel room.

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archiebald22: OMG WHY?? DIDN'T SHE JUST HAVE AN INTERVIEW WITH JIMMY FALLON 😭

pussydaposi: This is my roman empire

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(ONE YEAR LATER)

nameofficial: I Love You, I'm Sorry OUT NOW!

liked 1,293,012 others

>comments

sacramentoLove: When are you gonna pay ur taxes 🇪🇸

Destination12: Shakira x Y/N Collab cuz they both don't pay taxes to the Spanish government

oompaloompa: Y/N singing bella ciao link in bio 😭

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"Who's the guy?" You whispered in Lucie's ears, and she turned around to look at the man who had been staring at you for the past five minutes. "Holy fuck, that's Aemond Targaryen. His family literally owns half of Texas." She whisper-shouted.

It didn't help with the fact that the man was smoking hot. Lucie stares at her phone for half a minute. "Wait, can I leave alone for just a second? Cecil forgot to bring his polo, and the receptionist is not letting him in." She groaned. "I'll be fine," you gave her a slight smile.

Lucie leaves your side, and Aemond begins walking towards you. "(Your Name)," you introduced yourself with a smile. "Aemond Targaryen," he shakes your hand.

This could be the beginning of something new...something different. "You don't look like the type of person who'd spend her weekends in old country clubs," he smiles charmingly. "I came here with my friend, Lucie. She's supposed to have a date with this guy, but he seems to have forgotten the rule of the country club." You chuckled.

Aemond tilts his head softly, and he whispers. "Always wear a shirt with a collar." He laughs.

"It's such a preposterous rule, I bet you that I'll have to hear about her boyfriend's expensive suit and how it is preposterous that he wasn't allowed inside." You giggled.

"I bet you that the staff doesn't get paid enough to deal with people like them," he led you to another part of the gardens. This part was exclusive only to esteemed members of the club, which probably means that this Aemond fellow is important. "I heard that a beautiful singer was going to be here. I had to my brother's golfcart to make it in the Clubhouse in time," his eyes narrowed.

Of course, the people that he heard those sentiments from weren't exactly appreciative of your presence. It was one of his mother's cousins who said something about these idiotic celebrities eating in the place where they were eating. "Oh please, you don't need to sugarcoat their words. I bet you that Lucie is scandalized for bringing me," you snorted.

You hate spending time around these old money folks. In your eyes, they've spent the majority of their wealth, and the only thing that they have left is their snootyness. "They're all idiots anyways," Aemond rolls his eyes, pleased that you weren't one of those cunts who'd kiss ass to the wealthy.

His phone rings, and he reaches for the call card inside of his wallet. "I'd love to take you out on dinner sometimes, not here, but you choose where to eat. Please call me as soon as possible," he placed a hand on your shoulder.

He bids farewell, realizing that his business partners were calling him already.

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It was a surprise to see that Aemond had a follow-through; the next day, he had already arranged a dinner with you. "I honestly had no idea where you'd want to eat. I mean, I'm sorry for bringing you to this small diner." You chuckled.

Rich people can be so banal sometimes, they eat at the same five restaurants, they wear the same clothes from the same five ateliers, and they all go to the same yoga studio, for goodness sake. You knew that if you wanted Aemond to consider you worthy of his attention - you needed to stick out. Which leads you to this diner, the real heart of NYC.

"It's beautiful. I've never been here before." He looks around with an appreciative smile. "I used to eat here a lot when I was a college student, I couldn't afford anything else - and the food here seriously tastes better than some Michelin restaurants. It's nice here, it feels so ... raw." You struggled to find the words.

The food was amazing, but the community that this diner constantly fed - it's a thing for the books. The cab drivers, the hotdog stand sellers, and the college students. It is home. "It must be hard being famous," he shoves a piece of pizza inside of his mouth.

You licked your lips.

"I've been famous for as long as I can remember. I don't know how to live without all of the cameras." You pierced the pancake with your fork, bringing it to your mouth. "I need your help." He places both of his hands on the table.

"Where?" Your eyebrows merged together.

"My father is dying. He says that he'll leave his entire inheritance to the first person who gets married in our family. My siblings and my nephews are fighting for that spot, seeing that my older sister doesn't want any ties with us. Now, I know that there are cases against you by the Spanish government, and I can make all of that go away," Aemond offers.

"I'd love to help you but I'm really good at making mistakes," your eyes narrowed, weighting in your choices.

His eyes softened.

"The only mistake that you've made is allowing your father to control your finances. He's in jail now, and if you're not going to fix yourself, you're going to end up there too." He says.

You play with the rings on your finger, inhaling the scent of maple syrup. "So, I marry you, and you clear up all my charges?" You inquired.

"I fake our marriage, clear up your name, and give you $10 million to start again." He corrects.

"Alright then," you hummed. "Do we have a deal?" You smile.

He shakes your hand.

"We have a deal," he confirms.

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Being in a pretend relationship with Aemond was honestly one of the easiest things that you've ever done. He makes it really hard not to fall in love with him. The way that he places his hands inside of his pockets, the way that he gives you the sweetest smile - it almost makes you think that his feelings are genuine. It is not, you remind yourself.

You flick through the rack of dresses in front of you. "What are your parents like? Are they traditional, or are they as laid back as you?" You questioned. He pauses for a while, trying to find the words that would properly describe his parents.

"My dad is a traditional man. He likes guns, and he believes in the Second Amendment. He's a senile old man. My mother, however, is trendy, and she's warm up to you." He informs.

"Tell me more about your family," you pressed.

You needed to be prepared for this battle.

"My older brother is an armchair socialist. He's always complaining to our mother about some animals dying. He's a vegetarian, although he always orders Chipotle on Fridays. His morality is a grey compass," Aemond snorts.

You giggle too.

"Helaena, my older sister. She's my second older sister. I think she's the person that Aegon thinks he is. She's too busy running this non-profit for refugees, but you don't need to worry about her, she's kind." He comforts.

"Then, I have a little brother, Daeron. He doesn't like us. He'd much rather spend time with our uncle." He turns to look away. Your eyes land on the vintage white dress you've seen in Lucie's wardrobe, it's a dress that Chanel never showed the general populace. An iconic piece, but not famous enough that it would seem tacky.

His hands snake around your waist. "What?" Your eyebrows merged together, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead, subtly pointing at the paparazzi that were standing outside of the boutique door. "Kiss me," he says, pulling your body closer - until you could smell his cologne.

"You are so demanding," you teased, reaching to cup his cheeks. Standing on your tiptoes as you pressed your lips together. The paparazzi outside of the door were caught in a frenzy, flashing lights of all colors greeted you.

He tastes like cherries and diet coke. It's intoxicating. A taste that is so different on your tongue. You pull away from the kiss - and he pretends to gasp at the sight of the paps outside of the door. "Let's go," he mouthed - pulling you into a deeper part of the store, where the media couldn't see.

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ynkittens: (fan sent the picture) Y/N L/N with mystery man in NYC. Who is this man???

liked by 92,239 others

>comments

DoodleCop: OH MY GOD I miss her and Jace 🥺

YNNationSupport9: Stop, you're losing me

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Aemond stares at his phone, an indescribable frown on his face as it continues to vibrate due to the number of notifications sent to his personal account. "I didn't expect your fans to be this crazy," he mumbled, seeing his face shared all around Instagram.

"You did tell me that our relationship needed to be public to be believable," your eyes narrowed. "Yeah but now they're calling my personal number," he shows you his phone.

An amused chuckle exits your mouth.

"If you can't handle the smoke, don't start the fire." You shoved a piece of pastry inside of your mouth. Aemond slumps on the blue cloud couch and turns his phone off. He has been staying in your apartment for the past month now, after the whole scenario with the paparazzi the studio apartment that he was renting was no longer safe.

"Helaena has been blasting my other phone since yesterday. She's a really big fan of you," he smiles, pulling you closer to him until you are laying on his lap. "She sounds amazing, when are we going to meet?" You inquired, reaching for a book on the coffee table.

His fingers comb through your hair, untangling the knots that your hairbrush couldn't fix. "Maybe tomorrow during the family reunion? She kind of just shows up," he says.

He couldn't deny your beauty. As time grows, he slowly finds himself loving everything about you...from your gentleness to your fickle mindedness. You weren't satisfied with making a decision without first looking at every possible perspective. When someone does a bad deed, you say well, maybe it isn't their fault, maybe it's the way that society has treated them.

Even when the situation proves to be difficult, you still choose to be kind. It's just a summer thing, he tells himself because nothing beautiful ever chooses him. All the good things wilt in his hands.

He flicks a strand of your hair away from your face. "I'm a little nervous about tomorrow," you admit. "- I've never felt like I belonged, you know what I mean?" You scrunched up your nose, and he continued to massage your scalp.

"I'm so hesitant when it comes to attending these parties because when I was a kid, my dad took us to one of his black tie parties, and my mom let me wear this beautiful unicorn dress, but apparently, the black-tie rule was for everyone, regardless of age. The host didn't want me to go inside the halls with my pink glittery dress because it didn't reach past my ankles...one of my cousins pitied me so much. She let me borrow her dress, but it was too big on me." You flinched at the faint memory.

"I had to sit beside my mom the entire time, and all of the kids were staring at me like I had a third leg." Your teeth burrowed into your lower lips. "That sounds horrible," he frowns. "Which is why I promised to never look unfashionable ever again..." You say.

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nameofficial: our secret moments, in a crowded room. @aemondtargaryensapphires

liked by 1,293,012 others

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MaybeThisTime3: Rue, when was this?

aemondtargaryensapphires: ❤️‍🔥👸🏻 - nameofficial: ❤️

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Lucerys stuffs a large amount of vanilla ice cream inside of his mouth. "Did you check Instagram?" He teases his brother, continuing to play on his Nintendo Switch - almost smearing an entire spoonful of vanilla on the screen.

"Can you stop being annoying for five seconds?" Jacaerys rolled his eyes.

"He is so bothered," Joffrey giggled while scrolling on his phone. "I am not bothered," Jacaerys gritted his teeth.

"He's not bothered, but he's turning red!" Lucerys piped in once again. "I wonder if he'll take her to the reunion." Joffrey ponders, and a sigh escapes the oldest brother's mouth. Give you my wild. Give you a child. Give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other. Now, the only thing he's answered with is a different type of silence.

It's neither of your fault that the relationship ended. It was just too much of a chasm, your personalities were too different. You were the type of person to fight for the relationship, the type of person who disobeyed fate, and he is the opposite of that.

Because if something is meant to be, then the whole universe conspires for you to have it by your side. If it is meant to be - you wouldn't need to fight for it.

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You were wearing a white-satin dress that reached past your knees, it was embroidered with Swarovski crystals, truly a miracle that the dress ever held up. "Remember the story, I proposed on the beach, we didn't bring any cameras." He whispered, and you could sense his nervousness.

The car continues to drive inside a long entryway that curves to the side, you are greeted with tall bushes that cover the facade of the mansion. As you reach the third turn, the beautiful mansion is made known to you.

It was truly a sight to behold.

A mixture of French and Italian architecture was made even richer by the aged bricks that were used in constructing the estate. The mansion was about the same size as Central Park. It was clear that Aemond Targaryen was richer than God.

"You said family reunion," your lips pursed into a thin line. He gives you a stare, telling you that he didn't expect this many guests either. "My father must've invited his golfing buddies," he explains, regaining his composure.

He reaches for a box inside of his pockets. He opens it, showing you a beautiful emerald oval ring, a ring that is simple and elegant - a ring like you. "Are you ready to meet the vipers?" He smirks, placing the ring on your ring finger.

A doorman begins to open the doors to the car.

"If we wait until I'm ready, we'll be waiting forever." You plastered a smile on your face, straightening your posture, and exiting the car - making sure that everyone's eyes were on you.

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Jace freezes as he sees the faint silhouette of your body. His relationship with you ended on good terms; he was happy with the outcome, but seeing you a year later - brings him back to pleasant and unpleasant memories. He partly wishes that he was stupid enough to his ex-girlfriend, but he is smarter than that.

He knows that the only time that he was ever truly happy was when he was with you, and now you've left him. Now, the only thing that brings him back to those pleasant memories are the songs that you've written about him.

What a horrible day to be alive.

His jaw clenches, watching as his uncle's hands snake around your waist, the very same waist that his hand used to fit like a perfect puzzle in. He watches as Aemond leans to whisper something in your ear, and you giggle. He bets that the joke isn't funny at all.

"Isn't that (Your Name)?" Rhaenyra inquires, and suddenly, Jacaerys' hand feels clammy around the champagne flute. He desperately wants to puke. Rhaenyra's eyes softened instantly, heart heaving for her oldest son. "Oh Jace," she cooed and he forced a smile on his face - he took a lazy sip of his champagne, and the drink bubbles in his stomach.

"I'm alright, mom." He insists.

Jace still cannot understand why his heart longs for you. He has everything he wants - he has everything that you prevented him from achieving because you dreamed of marriage. Why is he missing the shackles that he allowed destiny to remove?

Aemond begins to march in his direction, a satisfied grin on the other man's face. Could he have known? Jace asks himself. "Jacey," the man teased, one hand wrapped around you, and the other hand on a glass of merlot. Aemond was absolutely glowing.

"Uncle Aemond," Jace answered.

"Have you met this lovely lady?" Aemond tilted his head, half-expecting you to smile warmly at his nephew, as you have done to all of his relatives, but he was greeted with silence. Your eyes trailed back and forth between Aemond and his nephew. "Uncle?" your eyebrows merged together.

"I'm too young to be an uncle. My sister had him early." He informs. "I didn't expect you to be here," Jace says plainly as if Aemond was not standing right beside you. "I could say the same thing," you replied, your grip on Aemond tightens.

Something shimmery on your fingers catches Jacaerys' eyes. An engagement ring. An oval emerald engagement ring - like the color that the other side of his family proudly wore. "Congratulations on the engagement," he greets, forcing himself to be happy. Marriage is the only thing that you didn't agree on with him - he found it useless, you found it monumental.

"Thank you," you and Aemond say in unison.

"When she's the one wrapped around your fingers, you have to make a fist." Aemond stares at your face. Jace could only hum in return, his throat felt dry again. "I know the feeling," he takes a sip of his champagne.

He curses himself for still having these feelings for you. He should have fought against the world to have you beside him. He should have taken you dancing, bowling, skating, singing - but he didn't, because he was too engrossed in his own little world, unaware that everything was unfolding outside of his bedroom window.

He takes another deep breath, the world is bigger than the stories inside of his laptop. He can't believe that it has taken him this long to figure that out.

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"Can you please sing something?" Helaena requests, flashing you her puppy eyes. You turned to look around you, and everyone was looking in your direction. Viserys raises an eyebrow as if asking for you to sing.

Daeron hands you one of his acoustic guitars.

"Do you have any song in mind?" You inquired, prepared to sing one of your love songs. "How did it end!" Helaena cheers, pulling Morghul (her dog) on her lap.

"That's a nice song that you've chosen," you forced a smile on your face. Of course, she chooses the one song about your breakup with Jace.

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aemondtargaryensapphires: beautiful ❤️

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helaenatargaryen: YOU ARE SO FAST WITH THESE HAHA

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Jace watches as the waiters begin to serve their food. It was a gourmet meal provided by his step-father's fine dining restaurant, the food was beautiful, and it had the right color. You couldn't help but feel out of place - like the girl who wore a unicorn dress to a black-tie event.

"I'm allergic, I can't eat this." You whispered, flashing Aemond a concerned look. "Sorry, Aemond was the one who confirmed the samples." Rhaenyra's voice sounded apologetic, and sad because she was the one who planned the entire event. "Oh, it's okay." You smiled.

"How long have you known each other?" Jace blurts out, swirling the champagne in his glass. The first thing that couples do while knowing each other - is going on a date, and if you've been on a date with him thousands of times, wouldn't Aemond know about your likes and dislikes?

"Nine months, and it's alright, you can have Aegon's salad. He only pretends to be vegan." Aemond switches your place with Aegon's who is currently occupied in the bathroom. "Thank you," you mumbled.

"Your brother is going to throw a fit once he sees that," Alicent interrupts. "Mom he won't even notice," Helaena looks at you with hearts on her eyes.

Jace could only raise his eyebrows. Nine months and, his uncle wasn't aware that you're allergic to lamb sauce. He bets that Aemond doesn't even know that your eyebrows merge together when you're angry. He bets that the other man doesn't even know that your favorite game is Overcooked, and you refuse to move to the next stage when you fail to reach all three stars.

He's losing you to a man that hardly knows you.

"Where did you meet?" Lucerys pipes in, taking a sip of his strawberry milkshake. "In the country club," Aemond smiles. He looks at you like you are the earth, and he is nothing but a moon that rotates around you. "Her friend Lucie Churchill, she introduced us to each other," Aemond lies.

Alicent smiles, a look of adoration on her face. Aemond has chosen the best possible woman to fall in love with, a woman who's mantle is heavy with her own achievements. "When are you getting married?" She chimes in, happy with the idea of having grandbabies.

"Soon, I've always wanted a summer wedding." You answered coyly. You glanced at him, and suddenly, this summer thing was beginning to look real. "The good ones never wait," Aemond smiles, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

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Jace enters the balcony, seeing that you are sipping wine on your own and staring at the French skyline. The dress that you were wearing was now slightly wrinkled, and the ring on your finger was slightly loose.

"Are you sure?" he asks.

"Sure about what?" You asked with a rough voice.

"My uncle," his lips are pursed into a thin line. He looks for a glimmer of hope behind your eyes, but it is too far.

He is too late to bring this love back to life.

"He's the only thing that I'm sure of," you answered.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes, and your eyebrows merge together. "Sorry for what?" You scoffed.

"I'm sorry that I didn't fight for us." He continues. "- it was always doomed from the beginning. I could never have asked you to make that sacrifice for me. I didn't accept it at first, but that just wasn't the life for you." You finished.

"But if I asked you back then, you would have made that sacrifice for me, so I'm sorry for not being what you needed." He says, slowly walking out of the balcony, completely oblivious of the man leaning on the door and eavesdropping on your conversation.

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nameofficial: I can't help falling in love with you... ❤️ This is the beginning of forever baby 💍

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>comments

ynkittens: wait did u get married? - nameofficial: Engaged. I'm sorry for not making it clear in the caption haha 😭

JacintaRobin: "I wanna teach you how forever feels like" aint for JACK IN A BOX bcs it's for mr aemond - Bananashake44: Aemond the literal alpha male??? THE SIGMA GIGA CHAD ??? THE ULTIMATE RIZZLER

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PART TWO

@glame @xcinnamonmalfoyx @winxchesters @yentroucnagol @hotchnerswife @mxxny-lupin @mxtantrights @urmomsgirlfriend1 @kravitzwhore@sweethoneyblossom1 @introverbatim @flrboyd @kemillyfreitas

[therealbatman111]

Blue Sparks

Fembartender!jinx

I wiped down the counter of The Last Drop, the familiar smell of smoke and alcohol heavy in the air. It wasn’t the cleanest job, but it paid well, and that was all that mattered. The bar was a regular stop for Silco’s crew—a place where plans were made and deals whispered in the dark. I'd worked here forever, but lately... something—or rather, someone—had started to occupy my thoughts.

Jinx.

I wasn’t sure when it started. Maybe it was the first time she burst into the bar, pink and blue smoke following her with that manic grin of hers. Or maybe it was just the way her electric blue hair seemed to glow in the dim light. Every time she walked in, my heart would skip a beat. She was wild, unpredictable—like a bomb about to go off—and for some reason, that drew me in.

Today was no different.

The door creaked as Jinx skipped inside, her eyes scanning the room like a hawk. The smell of paint and gunpowder seemed to follow her, and I could feel the tension in the air. I tried to act normal, but my hands trembled slightly as I grabbed a glass to wipe it down.

"Hey, sugar!" Jinx called, her voice high and full of mischief. "Got any of that juice you always make? You know, the stuff that gets me really wired?" Her eyes locked onto mine as she sits down at the bar resting her head on her chin 

My breath caught. "Of course, Jinx. I’ve got it ready just for you" I chirp, walking to the back to grab the concoction I’d perfected just for her. It was a mix of caffeine and something extra—something that seemed to fuel her chaos. I’d been experimenting with drinks for a long time and it was nice that it was a special thing between me and her

When I handed it to her,our hands brushed sending a shock down my spine.

"Thanks, sugar." Jinx took the drink, and I couldn’t help but notice the way her grin could light up the whole room. I watched her for a second, my heart racing, but she had already turned her attention to something else—a pile of explosives and parts, no doubt plotting her next big thing.

I leaned against the counter, my gaze lingering on her. "Everything okay?" I asked, trying to get her to snap out of her bomb-crafting trance.

She blinked up at me like she’d just realized I was there. "Huh? Oh yeah, all good! Just figuring out what to make next," she said, her voice filled with excitement. But for a second, I saw the exhaustion in her eyes. Maybe she didn’t care about anything—but I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more beneath the chaos.

Jinx took another sip of the drink. "This stuff’s amazing, toots. Seriously, you should sell it. I’m gonna need more of this if I’m gonna get anything done."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "You’ve got more than enough energy already, Jinx. You’re like a force of nature all by yourself."

Jinx laughed, her grin widening. "Isn’t that the point?" She winked, and for a moment, my heart stopped. My chest tightened, and I fought to keep the nervousness from showing.

“You’re really good at what you do, you know that right?” I asked, leaning in a little with a smile hoping i didn’t look too nervous.

Jinx beamed, completely oblivious. “Yeah, I know! That’s why they pay me the big bucks!” She twirled around, her excitement spilling out like always. She didn’t notice the way I was looking at her—the way my heart raced or how I could feel the weight of every moment we shared.

But it didn’t matter. I was just the bartender, and she was Jinx—chaotic, free, and untouchable. No matter how much I wanted to be more than that, I knew better.

"Maybe next shimmer shipment I’ll blow up the whole ship," Jinx said with a laugh, her eyes lighting up with mischief. "That’ll really get people talking!"

"Whatever you say, Jinx," I replied, trying to sound casual, even though I felt a little defeated. "Just... try not to blow up the bar, okay?"

Jinx gave me a salute, her grin wide and her eyes twinkling with excitement. “No promises, sweetheart!”

As she turned to leave, I felt a pang in my chest. It wasn’t that I didn’t love seeing her full of life—it was just that it felt like a lifetime ago when anyone had looked at her like that. She was a storm, and I wasn’t the one who could pull her out of it.

But even as she disappeared out the door, I couldn’t help but hope. Maybe, someday, something would spark between us.

[violenteconomics]

for cater diamond, it starts like this:

cater diamond is made up of lies.

his hair and outfit are designed to give off an air of carefreeness, even when his heart is tearing his chest into ribbons, perfectly planned down to the tiniest wrinkle. he runs all of his words through his head over and over before he says them, navigating every interaction like he's trying to get the perfect run in a video game (and idia would probably appreciate that metaphor if he heard it, maybe cater should bring it up to him, see how it makes him tick—). even his smile has been meticulously manufactured, every little twitch and idiosyncrasy based on the influencers he sees on magicam.

not that anybody really knows about any of this, of course. he's a professional, after all.

all of that to say that cater is a good liar. a great one, even.

one day, ace walks into the kitchen with serious bed-head, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

cater is leaning against the kitchen counter (looking just ruffled enough to appear as if he's just woken up, but still put-together enough to keep up the chill senior persona he's spent the better part of two years cultivating — a look he's mastered after watching the first ten seconds of neige's "morning routine!" video on loop) when he sees the red-head shambling in.

he smirks (corner of his lips tilted 42 degrees up, eyebrows slanted approximately 12 degrees down) and leans his head against his hand. "what's up, sleeping beauty?"

"good mornin', senior," ace grumbles, sounding way too pissed off to actually mean it.

that's what cater likes the most about ace and deuce. they don't feel the need to mask as much as everybody else does in this school. if they have feelings, they'll let you know it almost immediately — ruthlessly in acey's case, and involuntarily in deucey's case. either way, it's kind of cute.

and refreshing. even cater, social butterfly extraordinare, gets tired of analyzing every little bit of somebody's mood and personality and conversational style, in attempt to weaponize them as he tries to achieve the perfect outcome everytime he talks to someone. after two whole years of trying not to trip over any of riddle's landmines (which were actually just his hundreds upon hundreds of trauma responses, as it turns out), cater would've sworn off talking to anybody for the rest of ever if he weren't more of an expert at deceit than that.

it's easy to talk to ace and deuce, comparatively. if they have an opinion, they make it known, even if it's not night raven college-approved. they don't care about what anybody else thinks. for someone who cares about what everyone thinks at all times with no limits on when, where, or who, it's certainly a novelty.

they're different — but cater likes that. they're emotional. they're understanding. they're great underclassmen, even if they don't realize that (and probably never will, because cater's definitely not gonna say anything about it).

cater scrolls through the "#diybreakfast" tag on magicam to hunt for a cute breakfast place he could snap pics of for some more views. "so how'd'ya sleep? deuce didn't try to wrap you up in his 24/7 study sesh, did he?"

ace puts a hand on the back of his neck and groans. "i slept fine. kept waking up because of deuce's loud-ass chewing, though. seriously, who is that noisy when they're eating blueberries?"

cater laughs and pretends the conversation is over.

pretends he didn't notice the way ace hesitated for the briefest of moments before answering cater's simple question.

pretends he didn't notice the way ace rubbed his neck a little too hard to be casual, as if cater didn't use to have that exact same habit whenever riddle took his collar off of him.

pretends he didn't notice the tiny stutter in ace's "i slept fine".

(pretends he didn't say the exact same words, practically verbatim, every time trey asked him if he slept well during their second year at night raven college.)

(because he's supposed to be the unbothered one. he might actually crumble into a pile of misery if he has to let go of that idea.)

(maybe it's the same for ace, too.)

(it might be fake strength, but it's something to hold onto, nevertheless.)

because nobody else would've noticed that. nobody else craves validation so much to even bother. so if he's pretending to be cool and self-assured and confident and everything else that he's not, why would cater?

"damn it, we're out of cereal." ace groans, slamming the pantry door shut with a bit too much force.

the worst thing about being a great liar?

it's incredibly sobering when you meet someone who is almost as good as you.

I am in dire need of more of that AU that The First years get The upperclassmen toxic traits,i realy want more of It,like;

A way to include octavinelle and scarabia,maybe like,3 First years(Ace,deuce,Jack) get some of azul's toxic traits,other Three(epel,ortho and sebek) get Jamil toxic traits and yuu get both

Second thing

More reactings please,i NEED The staff,ALL The dorms and even the relatives seeing The First years developing those toxic traits,the overblots+Trey and cater for deuce getting their toxic traits right back at their face i beg you🙏🙏

anything 4 u, baby.

(but for real, though, this is an AMAZING idea, love you so much for tilling the ground for my brainwormies, mwah mwah 😘)

(also, this might get REALLY long, so hang tight!)

it was just a seed at first — a tiny idea that stuck around despite the first-years not even realizing it was there. but as the poison from their actual housewardens starts to develop into something truly deadly, so does that seed. it shows up later... but it makes itself known nevertheless.

ace, deuce, and jack have all worked for azul at the mostro lounge at one point, and though it was a very brief moment in time, it was just long enough to worm its way into their heads.

it starts with ace trappola, who's already pretty slippery with his words. but working at the mostro lounge, taking subconscious note of all the underhanded deals azul is making, he starts to pick up new... skills, let's say.

it starts small, with ace starting to give out certain favors to his fellow freshmen to earn some money. if you give him ten thaumarks, he'll do one of your everyday chores for you — dusting your room, cleaning your bathroom, making dinner, what have you. if you give him fifteen thaumarks, he'll do your homework if you don't feel like doing it, or take class notes for you if you don't feel like showing up. if you give him forty, he'll help you with something less-than-moral and definitely against the rules (he did it once back at the atlantica memorial museum — he can do it again).

there's an obvious power imbalance in all of these scenarios, but ace effortlessly words in a way that makes it seem like it's a win-win situation, when in reality, it's more like a zero-sum game.

it gets to the point where ace builds a black-market sort of reputation, and all of the freshmen know that if you need something done, ace is the person to go to.

...but then, something shifts.

at some point, ace starts a black-mailing campaign for the people who paid for the forty-thaumark favor. if you don't want your secret — one that might get you expelled, suspended, or worse — getting out, then you can pay for ace's silence with a favor or more money.

the worst part is: there's no way out. if you try attacking ace, it'll seem like you assaulted him for no reason, since if you try to explain he was blackmailing you, you'll have to tell them what he was blackmailing you with, which you obviously can't do — or else what was even the point? the same rule applies if you try tattling on him to one of the teachers or the housewardens or anybody else. and ace is a better liar than most people will ever be in their lifetime, so it's a losing battle even if you do manage to get someone to take your side.

so if you want to cross the bridge, my sweet, you've got to pay the toll.

(it's not even about the money anymore, really. riddle's thirst for control and azul's desire for recognition have clashed inside of ace in the most violent way, and now, it's all about the power it gives him over other people. and after how powerless he's felt this entire school year, being thrown left and right by overblot after overblot with no say at all, this is a power trip he never wants to come back down from.)

but ace realizes he's making quite a few enemies with his little money-making strategy, and he needs someone to help him just in case someone does come up with a plan to wipe him out. i mean, just look at azul — even with all of the loopholes and leverages in the world, even he was taken down eventually without outside help. if he wants this to last as long as possible, he needs... incentive for people to listen to him.

his own jade and floyd.

his own red-and-black collar.

using his riddle rosehearts-born dominance, and taking advantage of deuce's trey-and-cater-born passiveness, ace convinces deuce spade — one of the strongest people he knows — to help him in his economic ventures.

and deuce, seeing this as a way for ace to vent some frustration and unwilling to be on the other end of ace's ire, hesitantly agrees.

he doesn't piece together that ace is acting suspiciously like azul, but he still recognizes his own role in this whole scheme. ace is running a business, right? and deuce has only ever worked in one business before. he remembers what jade and floyd were like back when he worked under them, and so he uses that experience to inform his new position.

deuce becomes known as ace's right-hand man. he'll hunt you down if you don't pay, and he's not afraid to use force to "compel" you to. there have been stories about cat beastmen getting thrown up into trees and being left there for hours. about students getting forks "accidentally" thrown at them in the cafeteria with such precision, it doesn't really feel like an accident. about a student with a spade on his face who can throw back any attack sent his way with just as much force.

and there's nothing you can do about it, because he's in service to someone who has made himself pretty powerful. ace's silver-tongue gets deuce out of any and all trouble he inevitably finds himself in — and is ace is so brutally honest, why wouldn't people believe him? so even if you try to do something to deuce, ace has his back no matter what — and he'll win almost every time.

you mess with deuce, you mess with ace, which is already bad enough. but if you fuck around with ace, you better be prepared to find out with deuce.

they're a pair — that's always been true. but never before has that fact been so threatening.

jack howl comes next. we all know how much jack despises octavinelle's business model. but, begrudgingly, he will admit there are a lot of things he can learn from octavinelle. and more knowledge is never bad. as long as he doesn't actually use it, it should be fine.

(jack is more dangerous than ace and deuce, in a way — his toxicity is insidious in a way it just couldn't ever be with them.)

with excellent hearing, eyesight, and memory, he silently keeps note of every bribe he hears being taken. every lie he knows is being told. every mistake that gets swept under the rug. it's not long before he starts actively looking for it. it's not long before jack's uncovered dirt on almost every freshmen in school. it reminds him a bit of his time working at the mostro lounge. but instead of memorizing orders from customers, he's memorizing all their dirty secrets.

it's to protect himself, jack reasons. after all, it was only his input that put a stop to leona and ruggie's plans back during the spelldrive exhibition. he's just... preparing for another disastrous event, that's all. it's just precaution. insurance.

if it's not, then he'll have to accept that leona's overblot bothered him more than he thought. that he was weak enough to let it.

(and jack can't face that yet.)

and if, once in a while, ace comes to him looking for a little bit of information, then well, that's just lending a friend some advice. nothing wrong with that.

epel, ortho, and sebek don't have any direct ties to jamil, but they are certainly... impressionable, aren't they?

sebek zigvolt is a bit dense, certainly, but even he can see how well jamil takes care of his master. and with a master that's as ditzy and forgetful and all-over-the-place as kalim, that can't be easy. even if they are merely humans, and their experiences can't even begin to compare when it comes to serving a fae prince, sebek reckons that he can learn a thing or two by observing them. so that's exactly what he does.

one day, when kalim spills food on the floor in a hilariously ridiculous move, sebek notices something few others ever would. jamil gives the tiniest twitch of annoyance — the same way silver, in all his stoicism, often does when sebek gets too loud — but then he's back to being perfectly dutiful and polite and says "i'll go get a napkin."

it's... admirable, honestly. sebek doesn't put it into practice right away, but it stays in his mind long after he first sees it.

and then, after malleus's overblot, sebek's emotions feel like they're on fire. after being stuck in a world where it took just the tiniest crack to shatter a perfect illusion, he's wary of nearly everything that disrupts his day. now every single slight against him, no matter how unintentional it may be, feels like a personal attack on his very life. but sebek can't show these ugly emotions so outwardly — that would be dishonorable behavior that could damage malleus's reputation. instead, he resorts to subtle methods that can't be easily traced back to him like putting in frogs in schoolbags and setting brooms on fire or replacing shampoo bottles with tar.

but his repressed feelings of anger start to build to the point where he's now feeling unprecedented resentment towards... well, almost everybody.

when sebek has very first negative thought about malleus in history class — "reckless bastard" — he instantly hates himself for it and throws up then and there because how dare he.

he tries to shut them out, but the more he does, the more these intrusive thoughts start to bombard him with their uncharacteristic cynicism.

he looks at lilia from across the breakfast table, and his first thought is: heartless liar.

he spots leona lying in the botanical garden and he thinks: brainless cretin.

he even sees jamil, walking through the halls, and his mind screams: manipulative bitch.

but sebek shoves it all down because he's in no position to say that. it gets to the point where he's walking around as a silent, unfeeling husk, because to be anything else would be like inviting his inner demons to visit him on the outside. he pushes his emotions down as far as they'll go, and that's just going to have to be enough to get him through the day.

ortho shroud begins to follow a similar principle. his idia-inspired pessimism has led ortho to see others as less like people and more like characters. it's easier to think of every school day as a dungeon in an rpg. it's easier to convince himself that the other students are taunting him because they're programmed to be that way than face the reality that they just don't like him.

but the problem with seeing life as a video game is that you start seeing others as just ways to complete your objectives. like npcs or maps.

and when it comes to using people, jamil viper is king. or, for ortho's purposes, the ultimate survival guide.

ortho shapes himself into a model night raven college student — kind, charming, and sweet for the teachers, but just mischievous and rude enough to still fit in with the students.

he goes to housewarden meetings with idia to "gain leadership experience", taking notes and hearing out of every single little idea he can get his hands on (these are the people who have not just survived, but thrived. they must be doing something right). one time, riddle even pats his head and praises him for his proactiveness.

his classmates adore him for always been willing to help and being so calm about even the worst outcomes.

ortho makes himself as available as possible to the rest of ignihyde, brushing off homework or studying to help them with whatever they need — fixing game consoles, wiring in controllers, checking the internet connection, et cetera.

eventually, everyone believes in him almost as fiercely as scarabia believed in jamil, once upon a time.

ortho doesn't like telling all of these lies, but it's necessary to protect himself. it's like grinding to earn coins until you have enough money to buy that special armor in the shopkeeper's store.

...or maybe it's more like those cheesy dress-up flash games ortho used to play all the time — fleshing out the perfect outfit and hairstyle and makeup that'll earn you the most points.

if people feel like they need him, he'll be able to breeze through school without any more problems. he's put the whole system on easy mode! it feels a bit like cheating, almost.

it is like a game, isn't it? it's fun.

(at some point, ortho forgets how to stop.)

as for epel... well, he knows that his sudden snappish behavior towards the other pomefiore students won't go unnoticed for too long. but this is one of his only ways of venting, so he needs it to go under the radar long enough for him to... to squeeze out all of this sudden venom that's built up in him.

epel's not oblivious. he knows how sebek and ortho have changed over the weeks, and he knows why. but epel can't pull off "repressed" like sebek, and neither can he suddenly turn into the best person ever like ortho. but they do have the right idea about taking inspiration from jamil, so epel can fall back on what there is left: gaslighting.

every time kalim blacked out, jamil blamed it on him being sick. every time someone thought kalim was being awfully uncharacteristic, jamil called it a "mood swing". every time someone asked jamil about why kalim was acting so weird, jamil claimed ignorance.

at least, that's what yuu tells epel.

and it's perfect.

so now, every time someone confronts epel about his overly critical behavior, he lies and says he's doing it for their own good. you need pressure to make a diamond, after all. and besides — vil won't settle for anything less than absolutely perfect.

("i'm just trying to catch your mistakes before he does. and i think you and i can both agree that i'm a lot nicer than he is about it.")

every time vil confronts epel about all of the complaints he's been hearing from the other students about how epel's been tearing down their ideas for outfits and hairstyles with no mercy, and disregarding all of their achievements as "not good enough" to be proud over, epel dons a confused face.

("vil, between studying for tests and the crazy physical regiment you have me do, i barely have time for myself. you honestly think i have the energy to criticize other people?")

epel even starts turning people against each other so they won't focus on him. epel subtly threatens to take away the upperclassmen's position in the hierarchy, which sets up the other underclassmen as a threat, and epel grouses to the underclassmen that the upperclassmen look down on them for not living up to pomefiore standards, under the guise of regular teenage bitching.

but all of this, combined with their self-entitlement, leads to a mini-war in pomefiore. but since this is, well, pomefiore, where being perfect and poised is the standard, the others make sure never make it obvious in front of vil or rook.

epel plays everybody like a fiddle, and ensures that none of it can be traced back to him. it's a good way to get out his frustration. and hey — it seems like everybody's upped their game along the way. vil seems pretty happy that everybody's improving in their efforts so greatly, practically overnight!

epel wakes up with a feeling of accomplishment everyday. for once, it seems he did something right.

now if only rook could stop looking so somber...

then we come to yuu, whose inner darkness has been left to fester all year. if people think they can treat them like a ragdoll, it's only fair they do the same.

there's a lot yuu doesn't have, but one thing they're really lacking is a bit of respect. that's what it means to be magicless in an arcane academy. you're at the bottom of the food chain.

and look at what a bit of self-interest can do for you! yuu studies in the library until late into the night, burning the metaphorical candle at both ends, learning everything they can about magic until they're more well-versed in it than most students in the school. yuu starts making potions that aren't nearly as good as azul's, but they're cheap and work well enough. they start making study guides for others with their new-found knowledge, even if they do bristle with the fact that a damned study guide is what caught them in azul's tentacles in the first place. they start learning anything and everything, clinging to whatever scraps of knowledge they can write down.

with this, they successfully make their case for why they should join ace and deuce's business. eventually, they're just as feared as they are among the other first-years.

but that's not enough for yuu. the power of fear is nice, but the power of controlling other people would be much more cathartic.

so that's what they do. while ace is more focused on monetary gain, yuu uses their mountains of blackmail to convince others to do whatever they want.

if crowley throws another ridiculous task at them, yuu simply hoists it off to somebody else to do. if ramshackle dorm needs a few repairs, it's only a matter of contacting a few people before a whole construction crew paid off by somebody else comes knocking at their door. and they'll do it, if they don't want to get kicked out of the school or have their reputation ruined.

but somehow, even with all of this, yuu sets themself up as the nicest out of their little trio. they're willing to let payments slide from time to time. they listen to their clients' problems. they take constructive criticism and always seem to improve in their potions and study guides based on feedback. and if you do do yuu a favor, they'll give you certain favors right back.

so even when yuu is a covetous, greedy, all-consuming shark, the students still think they're so very, very nice. because compared to ace and deuce, what else is there to think?

but this can only go on for so long. and yuu knows that.

one day, they get called to the headmage's office. yuu is already going through their contact list — a list that's quadrupled ever since they joined forces with ace and deuce — to see who'd be willing to do them a teensy little favor for them, but when they step through the door, they pause.

inside the office are all the housewardens, their vices, the teachers, and everybody else yuu has grown to know over the past year.

yuu narrows their eyes as riddle steps forward.

"yuu," riddle starts sternly, "from one housewarden to another, i believe we need to talk."

^

(i will address everyone's reactions in a reblog, because this is honestly getting really, really long, lol. but don't worry, the reactions are coming! 🥺)

(but i should mention that there is already a good reblog of the original post by @thenumberhuntress which addresses the upperclassmen's reactions that you can find here. go read it. it's peak.)

(once again, thank you for the great ask! this was fun to make!)

[flwrkid14]

Hi! Can we get some more Jason Todd: Dad Mode Activated? 🥺👉👈 maybe about how Jason helps Tim with his crushes or maybe like how to cope with some mental health struggles/ Tim comparing how different Jason lectures him to Bruce’s lectures?

Hi!! Thank you so much for the ask! <3 These are such great concepts, and I’d have so much fun exploring them! While I’m not sure I’ll make a full post for this, I’d love to share my thoughts on how these ideas could play out!

For Jason helping Tim with crushes, I feel like he’d totally be that dad—the one who embarrasses you in front of your crush on purpose. Tim, of course, doesn’t tell Jason about his crushes for this exact reason, but Jason is way too observant not to figure it out anyway. Imagine them out together (because Jason has once again dragged Tim away from his work to make him take a break), and Jason spots Tim’s current crush walking down the street. He’d nudge Tim with that smug, teasing grin of his, going, “Timmy! Look, Timbo! It’s Bernard! Isn’t he a good friend of yours? What’s he doing out here? Let’s go say hi!” And then, before Tim can protest, Jason’s already dragging him over, while Tim is blushing furiously and muttering curses under his breath. Jason’s embarrassing as hell, but... it’s also endearing. And for Tim, who didn’t grow up with that kind of playful, teasing love, it felt oddly nice... even if his dad was now enthusiastically talking about his cuddling habits when sleeping (screw him for being touch starved) to a very confused Bernard.

As for coping with mental health, Jason would be such a huge advocate. Realizing that Tim is his kid now—and that he’s essentially a dad—would really push Jason to work on his own mental health. He’d know he can’t preach good habits to Tim if he’s not setting a good example himself (because independent Tim Drake—who grew up without much supervision—definitely needs someone to lead by example. He needs proof that taking advice from someone else is worth it, especially when his own methods have always worked just fine for him).

So Jason starts his own mental health journey, taking active steps to improve himself, and Tim notices. And it hits him hard, because none of his parental figures before—Bruce or Jack—ever did that. They never cared about their own well-being for his sake, to be better parents to him. Seeing Jason make that effort makes Tim feel so incredibly loved and valued.

Jason wouldn’t just lecture Tim or bark orders at him; he’d actively help him build better habits. He’d set up mandatory family dinners once a week to encourage better eating patterns and help Tim develop routines that supported a healthier sleep schedule, tailored to his needs, once they realized the standard eight hours a night just wasn’t realistic for him.

It’s these little changes that make Tim realize just how different Jason is from Bruce.

Jason doesn’t demand things from Tim that he doesn’t practice himself. He wouldn’t tell Tim to stop working late if he wasn’t also putting his own work aside and calling it a night. If he’s telling Tim to eat better, he’s leading by example—packing ready-to-go meals for both of them when there’s no time to cook. Jason shows Tim why these changes are worth it, through actions and positive outcomes.

Bruce, on the other hand, never did that. Whatever Bruce told Tim to do was just an expectation. He’d demand Tim do better or lecture him without ever showing how or why it mattered. If Bruce criticized Tim’s performance in the field but was himself guilty of being distracted—like running off mid-patrol for a rendezvous with catwoman—Tim just nodded along and tuned him out. Bruce’s hypocrisy made it impossible for Tim to take him seriously.

But Jason? Jason shows Tim why he should listen, fixing his own behavior and performance first before ever asking the same of Tim. And that difference speaks volumes. For Tim, who’s used to parental figures endless demands with no understanding behind them, Jason’s approach feels like a breath of fresh air—and the kind of support he never knew he needed.

hopefully that lived up to your expectations! <3