#this was the only good reaction to finding out he was his son everyone else was boring about it

[shinysobi]

"it was awkward to see colin flirt and behave like a rake" "he gave me the ick" yes ! that is the fucking point!! congratulations! you have the media literacy skills of a fucking monkey because my 4-year old niece could understand it better than you do.

we are supposed to find colin cringey and annoying and get the ick because that is not who he is. he is not anthony, or simon, or even benedict. colin (apart from gregory) is the sweetest of all bridgerton brothers (i'm going by book canon) and his most identifiable character trait is the fact that he values an emotional connection above everything. he runs away to the continent because he wants to feel that emotional connection. he has meaningless sex in brothels because that is the example he has seen growing up, that is the norm. he tries so hard to fit into the norm. he goes out drinking, adopts an entirely new personality, learns flirtations because that is how he thinks he will fit in. he's got armour on, as violet said. he puts everyone's needs above his own, he stops rambling on and boring his family with details of his trip because he knows no one cares. he doesn't talk to anthony or benedict about his heartaches because he knows they still, somewhere in their heart of hearts, view him as the annoying younger brother. he's so devastated by his closest friend not responding to him that he adopts a new personality in the hopes that it might mask the hurt better. he runs after penelope in episode one because he is so attuned to her emotions that he knows she's hurting, and tries to comfort her even when she's spiraling and lashes out. he must have been hurt by her words in the "good night mr bridgerton" scene but he puts it aside to genuinely apologise to her when literally no one else in that family would do that. colin, instead of brooding over his own feelings, goes and corners penelope in her family's garden and apologises to her, disregarding his own hurt at being cruelly dismissed by his close friend.

penelope asking colin to kiss her is not a mark of how "pathetic" she is. she has written and shamed herself in a manner that is almost entirely unsalvageable. she is at her lowest point, and then portia comes in and reminds her of how undesirable she is, and she sinks even lower. she asks colin to kiss her because she sees it as a final act, after which she can quietly wave goodbye to her dreams of ever getting married and leaving her mother's home. colin kisses her because he is also keenly aware of how she's feeling. he knows how hurt she is, he wants to do anything to alleviate that. be it cracking a joke, or kissing her. he is gentle, because he wants it to be something she can dream of when she's by herself. penelope, at this moment, has no hope for herself, and their kiss is an act of letting go for her. no, it's not a pity kiss, no he did not like her after her glow up, he has always loved her. him being struck dumb is a reaction to her physical transformation, nothing more. he does not flirt with her in that ballroom scene, he only approaches her when she's in distress. he's not flirting with her. i can assure you penelope could wear the frumpiest most neon yellow gown of all time and colin would still go "<333 my pen" for her.

colin jumps to catch the balloon's ropes because he sees that penelope is in danger, he does not give a shit about anyone else lmao. he feels temporary relief when he sees eloise run to safety, but the moment he sees penelope in immediate danger, he rushes to take action. afterwards, when he sees that she's being comforted by debling (all my homies hate debling, even if he is aro/ace coded i do NOT claim him) he does not approach her. it would be easy for him to do so, but he does not, because he respects her boundaries. colin bridgerton is the only man in the ton who respects women (the featherington sons-in-laws are too pretty to have a thought) he calls out fife and his friends for treating women like objects and calls them cavalier. the only way he would have been more explicit about his demisexuality was if he tap danced on the club table (entertaining thought, luke newton please)

colin also rapidly takes action, something which no one in the show has done so far. simon would have died instead of accepting his feelings for daphne, daphne would have been content with a loveless marriage forever instead of asking for help. kate would have pushed edwina down the aisle and gone off to india instead of confronting her own feelings, and anthony would have married edwina if she hadn't been brave enough for the three of them to run from the altar and ruin herself. penelope stood on the sidelines for years and loved him quietly because she had no hope of him loving her back. colin, the moment he is assured of his feelings, runs to penelope, almost kisses her in the middle of a ballroom. when he hears that debling is about to propose, he goes to the ball, just to dissuade penelope one more time. he cuts into their dance because he's desperate. when he runs after her carriage, he asks her if she has been proposed to, because he would not have touched her otherwise. he confesses his feelings to her only when he knows that she hasn't gotten engaged to debling, and when she says "but we are friends" he moves away. nothing more. he would have let her go, if she did not return his feelings.

idk whether i should be flattered or offended at people misunderstanding this season because on one hand it is offensive, but on the other hand, it means only smart people get polin. seriously. your minds have been rotted by insta-love and enemies to lovers that you can't even appreciate the innate beauty of friends to lovers. being friends with someone and then holding all those feelings for them. the trepidation of possible rejection. the fulfillment of being loved by the person who knows you the best of them all. the privilege of loving someone whose feelings you know better than your own. love is gentle and kind and yes it is a violent, uprooting force but above all, love does not hurt anyone. it does not hurt you. i could love someone quietly for years and it wouldn't bother me if their feelings were requited or not because my feelings are none of their business and i consider it a privilege to love and be loved by them, even if it is not in the way i would want it to be. polin are privileged in the highest sense. they know each other better than anyone else, they know how to love each other better than anyone else. to think they are rushed or they dont deserve each other is a disservice to both of them. they would be miserable with anyone else.

in other matters, if i see one more person talking smack about luke or nicola behind the safety of their screens i will personally get a bazooka.

[ma1dita]

solipsism

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 5.1k

summary: (post-TLT) drink responsibly… trouble doesn’t; you punch luke in this lol (novelization spoilers? kinda canon-compliant)

The one where you finally pray to Hestia to keep your home safe, even if he's also trying to destroy it. Luke visits you four times during college, in a timeline opposite to yours (doctor x river song-coded) (lore expansion & explanation here) (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: i hurt myself with this one. anyways its canon (to me) that we’re roommates now !!!! more to come like i promised even during my birthday break ! scream at me in the comments and feel free to reblog :)

(post 3/6, edited/betad @hotchfiles )

—

solipsism (the idea that only one’s mind is sure to exist)

You didn’t mean to send a prayer out into the world so strong that it would will an apparition of an Olympian, but burning cookies seems to be your specialty. Arguably, they weren’t the good kind, just the ones you grab in the freezer aisle of Walmart, and still, somehow they set your fire alarm off. Opening a window and waving through the smoke— Hestia, goddess of the hearth and home was standing next to the rickety dining table you bought off Facebook marketplace. 

“Holy shit, you scared me!” 

There’s mirth in her eyes at your reaction, though for all you know it could be annoyance—it’s not often that an immortal could be badgered enough to reveal themselves for an accident like this one.

“Dionysus was right. You’re too much like him for your own good,” she grins, taking a seat at the table like she’s an old friend. There’s a warmth to her unlike anyone you’ve met before—fire crackling in her eyes and an aura of serenity swaddling the air that you’ve never felt before in your student accomodations.

“I’m sorry I just… with all due respect, what’s going on?”

You go to toss the hot tray of cookies in the trash bin, before hesitating and putting them on your nicest plate. A gentle shove slides them over the table to the goddess, and she takes a crunch out of one happily.

“You were praying,” she states, like its common knowledge, “so strongly, in fact, I thought I’d make a visit to one of my most loyal devotees. Though in this case, you’re the object of his devotion, yes?”

Your hands are clasped across your lap and a familiar feeling spreads through you, then she jerks her hand up and points, “There. You’re doing it again. Y’know, it’s about time you start reciprocating the effort. Hermes’ son prays for you with intention.” You were thinking about Luke before she appeared—and hope glimmered like a tiny open flame. It’s still there, in the slow beating of your heart.

“He’s waging war with the gods. I don’t think he prays to them anymore,” you reason. Luke's offerings to the hearth must have been extinguished by the wrath he’s rained on Camp Half-Blood by now. The perfect storm.

“Not when it comes to you. Mortals never fail to surprise me. But it seems you’re a special case, my sweet. He’s made a home of you.”

To love Luke feels like having to keep a secret and never being able to tell anyone, but Hestia reaches for your hands across the table and looks at you knowingly.

“When I gave up my seat on Olympus for your father it wasn’t a sign of weakness, even if I did it so that others could be happy. I think your soul is a lot like mine in that you’ve given up so much of what you want to protect others. In turn, he’s doing the best he can to protect you; I listen to him every day, sweet girl. You are not weak for loving him still. There are generations of strength in your bones.”

“What else am I supposed to do? I search for him in everyone I meet and I’m not sure I’ll ever find that type of love again.”

These are thoughts you’d never told anyone—not Annabeth, not your father, not even yourself and surely never aloud.

“I hope you never do,” the goddess says, and you know it too.

i. no winter lasts forever (a night out after a drive home from virginia)

Flick. Flick.

“Come on, Hestia. Not you too. Don’t fail me now,” you mumble. The frigid metal of your zippo lighter rubs against your thumbs as you cup it in your hands, shielding the tiny flame that fights the harsh winter wind. Trying to focus as you lean against the brick of the Inferno, you take a deep inhale of smoke to warm your bones. Healing was never supposed to be easy.

Breathe in.

It’s somewhat of a routine you’ve made since getting back from visiting Annie. You’re a regular at this pub now—not even acclimated to the ins and outs of your sleepy college town, and though you don’t know the name of the hall your classes are in, you do know there’s a barstool in the corner of the Inferno with your name on it. There’s something funny about using your father’s gift as a form of fake id, and you wonder if he knows how heavily you indulge in your vices. Five vodka redbulls down the hatch have your knees feeling weak under the alley light until a stranger looms over you like a shadow.

“Those things are gonna kill you one day.”

Breathe out.

“Gods willing,” you laugh, stumbling over your boots and Luke catches you like he was never meant to let you go in the first place. The leather of his jacket is musky and his hair is buzzed. 

Either you were wasted or uncaring of who he was (both), you toss him your car keys and climb into the passenger seat. It’s a silent ride to your apartment besides you giving him the directions and Luke wonders how bad he must have hurt you for you to lay out for a stranger and waste away like this. But he’s the farthest thing from a stranger, even in this error in time and you’re still the daughter of the god of wine so after the third time you try to put your key in the lock he helps you because he hopes you’ll let him in.

“Y’know Annie would get a kick out of your haircut. Come inside.”

You’ve always been able to see right through him.

He’s standing in the hallway with his hand around your waist and he’s already broken too many of the titan’s orders by being here, so he scoffs, “You’re not gonna remember this by morning.” But you leave the door open anyway, dragging him by the wrist and your hand still feels the same in his even after all this time. What more is there to resist when there’s not much left of him to lose? 

This is the last time, he reminds Kronos, and there are monstrous hands around his brain, but yours are still gently holding his heart. The little part of his soul that hasn’t been eaten away holds on for a bit longer, tethered to your being by the way your hands are tied.

“I can, if you want me to.” 

He looks ready for war, and he is— yet you have him following you around the tiny living room almost in a trace as your arms loop around his neck. Luke doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know if you’d want to see him sober, especially when his absence is still fresh for you.

“Baby you look different from the last time we met,” you slur, stepping onto his feet as he takes you for a spin around the coffee table, dancing in the quiet. He’s older than you’ve ever seen him, voice deeper and colder. This is not the boy that ran from you in the forest many months ago. This is a man who’s seen horrors you haven’t lived through yet. You can deduce that he’s the cause of them too.

“So do you. Though still as beautiful as I remember,” he whispers like he’ll get struck for saying it. Your eyes are unfocused as he inspects your face, still soft and young with hope. The titan grips his features now, almost burning through his sense of self—though it’s not tangible he wonders if you could see it.

“I see you all the time. I just… usually have to drink enough to make it feel real. I just miss you.”

He looks pained at your words, and for a moment you wonder if he even heard you. Luke pushes you towards your room, an aura of darkness spreading through him like fire but he relents, pushing past the flames. He’s on borrowed time now, but Luke would gladly waste those minutes tucking you into bed.

Lifting your arms up, he pulls an old shirt of his over your shoulders, and his eyes catch onto the fact that you’re still wearing the dragon scale necklace he made you. Luke digs through your medicine cabinet while you sloppily wash your face and his calloused hands rub serums and moisturizer into your cheeks like how you taught him once upon a time. These are the things he won’t forget. Kronos can take it all away, as long as he gets to keep you. You lean against his chest and shut your eyes, scared that if you open them again he won’t be there.

“You’re not supposed to be here, are you? Are you mine?”

“I’m always going to be yours,” he says with no hesitation, “Four years later, and there is still not one living thing worth losing you,” he says, lips chasing after your fingertips as you trace his jaw. Your eyes flutter in exhaustion, and Luke’s eyes survey your room and he finds traces of you that he’s missed as he rubs your back lovingly like he has all the time in the world.

Your hands cup his face, making him look at you, and he surrenders himself to you as you pull him into a kiss. He’s a ticking time bomb about to detonate in your arms. The warnings that Kronos is beating into his head is nothing compared to the pain of knowing he won’t be with you for much longer. And he kisses you like he could save you from his blaze by doing so, lips and tongue and shattered breath saying I’m here, and this is real. Maybe your worst vice is not being able to wean yourself off the taste of him.

“Tell me what I need to hear. Even if it’s not true…Even if you’re not real,” you say between gasps, and your position on his lap makes him wonder why he’d ever give the world up and burn it down when it’s sitting right here and staring at him with violet eyes.

“It’s always going to be you and me. I’ll love you until the end of my days and then some.”

You laugh in the way that drives him crazy—though he already is, for loving you still. Luke lost all sense of himself when he left camp four years ago. All that remains is you, pushing him so that his back hits the bedspread. He lets you consume what’s left of him, and he’s on fire.

You wake up the next morning with a jolt. It’s still winter, and you’re still alone but despite the chill, you feel warm.

ii. autumn years (with a familiar visitor who finally shows up on time)

Knock, knock.

There’s someone at the door, but your date isn’t supposed to be here for another 10 minutes.

“Babe, someone’s here for you!” your roommate Jo calls out, and you tell her it’s fine to let them in.

The pantyhose clings to the lotion on your thighs and you fix the bracelet on your wrist, stepping out from the bathroom hollering, “You’re early, Kit! Don’t tell me you’re skipping to the good part; I’m a lady i–”

“Who’s Kit?”

Luke’s standing in the doorway of your bedroom and his eyes flit to the reflection of your naked back peeking through the undone zipper of your dress. You look stunning, lips painted red and eyes smoky, but you’re also furious. Too bad he’s always thought you looked extra hot when you’re mad.

“None of your business. As you can see, I don’t exactly have the time for this, Castellan.”

He shrugs, closing the door behind him gently and with the raise of his brow, Luke is leering at you like a teenage boy. Respectfully, of course. The glint of celestial bronze against his hip reminds you who he’s become though.

“I’ll make the time if you say the words, Trouble.”

Sighing, you step forward, but then he does that thing again from the last time you saw him out on sea, twisting the crick in his neck like he has to resist your touch.

“You’re still funny. Some old habits die hard I guess,” you scoff, turning and lifting your hair out of the way so that he can zip you up. He opts to not touch you, sliding the dress closed until it fits against your body. You think you can feel his fingers ghost above your skin, and goosebumps rise where he leaves and his breath is warm on the back of your neck.

“Leave your weapons at the door. I run a tight ship, unlike you.” 

Gliding away from him while his hands are still in the air, you turn and sit at the edge of your bed, crossing your legs as you nod at him. Luke picks up the pair of heels next to where he sets the sword against the wall, and like it’s nothing out of the sort, he gets on his knees. You offer a foot to him while he speaks, “I could tell by the taser on your bedside table. You’ve killed monsters before, why a taser?”

There’s freckles on his tanned cheeks and he smells like the sun. You wonder what he’s done to come see you tonight.

“I’ve found out that not all monsters are mythical. When…are you?”

His eyes dart away from yours, securing the buckles on your ankles, and his touch sears through the mesh of your pantyhose.

“A few months ahead.”

There’s an eyelash on his nose, and your finger reaches out to touch it, but he flinches away. Face pulling into a frown, you spit, “You never slow down enough to let me catch up with you, huh?”

You can hear the microwave whirring in the kitchen, your roommate none the wiser of the sound of two hearts breaking. The both of you suddenly realize this is the first time you two have been alone (and the same age) since he left camp. There’s a silent question of if it will ever happen again as he gets up from the floor.

“So you’re seeing other people. Must’ve been easy, h—”

You punch him in the face before he finishes speaking, and all he can do is laugh. You would never let him off so easily.

“Fuck you. What, you think you can just hop in here and act like everything’s okay? What do you want, Castellan? For me to grovel at your feet and beg for you to fix what you broke?”

And you’re right, he supposes. This is the closest to peace that you’ll get in this life you’ve created without him. He won’t be able to take you on nice dinner dates like Kit can, or hold your hand without feeling like fate is going to smite him for existing. You scoff at the lack of his response.

“What happens next?”

Luke watches you chew on your lip, and even if he shouldn’t touch you in fear that you’ll will away his reason for defecting, by the gods does he want to.

“What do you mean?” he mutters. The cord of his necklace is tucked into your dress now that he looks closer.

“If I’m right,” you say (and it’s rare that you’re not), “each version of you that comes to see me knows less, and each time I see you I learn more. You were 23 last time. Why didn’t you see me at 22?” You know he won’t have an answer, but this is the only time you’ll be able to ask the real him. The one that’s yours, just a few steps ahead.

“There’s already been a lot that’s happened since I last saw you.”

“Are you going to hurt me?” you offer him, like he hasn’t already. He can feel the bruise blooming on his cheekbone and he grimaces with what he’s about to say.

“Never intentionally. I’ll try not to.”

It sounds stupid coming out of his mouth and you feel stupid with how empty you feel just watching him. He’s made a home of you, choosing moments in time to visit, but when he inevitably leaves, then what? Luke taught you how to be a home, forgetting you exist until it’s convenient and now there are things about yourself that you can’t unlearn yet don’t know what to do with.

Your roommate knocks on your door asking if you want a shot of vodka before your date starts, and Luke is already walking towards it since he’s overstayed his welcome. He raises his sword to open a portal but you shake your head.

“Go out the way you came,” you swallow, fiddling with the copper pendant around your neck, “and take the purple umbrella in the hall. It’s raining outside.”

When you walk into the kitchen moments later, the front door shuts gently and Jo’s sitting at the table with a mouthful of ramen noodles.

“Is he warming up the car? Your date’s hot as fuck, babe,” she grins, steam coating her glasses.

Knock, knock.

Your phone buzzes and there’s another knock at the door. Kit is 15 minutes late.

iii. auld lang syne (ringing in the new year with an old friend, or more)

Your apartment is filled with friends and acquaintances, but who the fuck cares anyway? There’s 10 minutes to midnight and you’re crossed out of your mind. Holding onto a half-empty bottle of prosecco, your heels clomp over to the window in the living room as you crawl onto the fire escape. 

Clack, clack.

The air is chilly as you hug yourself, and you hear someone step out onto the stairs behind you. 

“What are you doing out here alone?”

You sigh, not even turning to look at him, “What are you doing here, period?”

He takes the bottle of prosecco out of your hands, making you swivel your head to look at him as he takes a big gulp. He’s younger again, and it makes you laugh at how fucked up your luck must be to never be able to see him when you want. It’s always been on Luke’s terms.

“You’re too young to be drinking that,” you drawl, knees bumping against his when he takes a seat next to you. Long Island is quiet at night, and the lack of city lights is nice when you can see the stars so clearly. Music blares through your JBL speaker in the living room, and the sound of cheers gets louder when The Neighborhood starts playing.

“We used to do worse,” he laughs, but something in it sounds hollow. The breeze picks up and you shiver, taking the bottle back from him and swigging it.

“All these visits…you sure do know how to make a girl feel special. But you never come in the summer.” 

He clears his throat, before leaning back on his elbows, “ I haven’t gone a summer without you since we were 14.” This Luke doesn’t know what’s ahead of him yet, but you realize that he’s right. Even now, he keeps up the habit of pissing you off and raising hell on Camp Half-Blood every summer. You notice he’s not wearing his camp beads, and he notices you shiver again in the chill. 

Clack, clack.

Your heels rattle the metal of the fire escape as you readjust your position. He takes off his jacket to sling it around your shoulders and neither of you realize you’ve missed the countdown until fireworks burst in the sky above you. The red and blue reflect off the planes of his face, but what stands out to you is the orange of his shirt, and you comprehend now where he just came from.

“I had to see you. I didn’t get to say goodbye when I left,” he says, and you take another sip before handing him the bottle to finish off. The only new years’ kiss you’re getting is through the lips that hold the last remaining drops of prosecco. 

You nod, remembering it all too well as you both watch the fireworks in silence. He wasn’t able to watch them properly the last time he was with you, Annie, and Percy just a few hours prior.

iv. spring cleaning (only big days are ahead for the both of you) 

It’s quiet in your college apartment this morning. 

The moving boxes are half-packed and stacked against the wall of the entryway and the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the French press on your kitchen counter permeates the air. Perhaps the idea of caffeine is the last thing on your mind, hands twitching as they smooth over the black polyester of your graduation regalia. There’s a few hours still before the ceremony, but you’ve never liked being unprepared. Pollux is driving your dad down the Island because despite the war you’ll inevitably be fighting in once you cross the stage and get your degree, D specifically told Zeus that he’d wage another if he was made to miss your big day.

Parting your hair to fit under the ugly graduation cap, the tassel swings in front of your face as you grab a few bobby pins from the side table. A golden medallion of Castor’s smiling face almost whips into your cornea and you stifle a laugh. D said in his Iris message last night that all three of them would cheer so loud you’d be able to hear it from Elysium (and honestly, jokes aside—he probably has a way of making that happen). A staggered breath leaves your lungs, and you’re filled with anticipation, though you’re not sure what for. 

Time is a thief and you know that too well by now. After all, you’ve spent the past four years running from the truth of your heritage—dodging monsters between study sessions and grief welcoming you every time you come home. Four years later, and who are you trying to fool? While walking across that stage later you might as well take a bow. After all, your ex-boyfriend is the reason why there’s going to be a war of both blood and ichor, mortal and undying and still, you find yourself in the middle of it. You’ve found yourself fielding questions this last semester like dodging celestial bronze, the questions always a little too close to home and the answers you give are too entertaining to be considered the truth.

So, what are your future plans? 

Oh no big deal, just going home and dealing with generations-old family drama. If it drives me crazy enough I might enlist! 

Gods. 

How do you even articulate that these past few years were those future plans? That you didn’t expect to be alive this long, much less have the comfort of feeling secure enough to dream… It’s been years since you’ve had a good dream to work towards with a boy you once knew holding your hand through it all. But the expensive piece of paper you’ll be receiving later feels fake somehow. 

Who does that belong to? Surely not you…surely, someone who dreams without bearing the weight that comes with it. Someone who doesn’t have to look over their shoulder everytime they walk to work in the mornings, who can convince children that monsters aren’t real without having to lie. Psychology was a great field to learn from the mortal side of things—to know the reasons why brain chemistry affects us so deeply instead of just willing it away with the touch of your fingers. You like making people feel better. But who can ever do that for you?

A gust of wind sweeps through your room, the multicolored tassels hanging off your neck swaying from the force and you shut your eyes knowing he’s there again. Citrus and musk, and something that’s just him. He knocks over your hamper, cussing under his breath until his eyes follow your motionless figure in front of the mirror.

“Shit. I can explain, um… I thought you’d still be asleep,” Luke sputters, his converse falling into your laundry pile like quicksand. He bends over, stuffing your pajamas and sweatshirts back into the bin with fidgety hands as his eyes take a quick scan of your room. There are no pictures of you and him on the bedside table. For a moment, he wonders what that means but then his cheeks redden when he picks up a pair of your lacy underwear. He shoves that down too.

“Big day today. You know I can’t sleep when I know something is about to happen,” you smile wistfully, and you keep your eyes shut for longer, because like this, it’s almost like he’s actually there in real time. In a world where things went your way, this would be his apartment too, and his clothes would be scattered around your shared bedroom like how they used to back in cabin 12. You always used to put them on The Chair, as he would call it—but Luke’s known to make a mess of your life regardless of your efforts.

“When isn’t there? Something’s always going on when you’re around, Trouble.”

Click. Scattered memories flicker in your head like images through a view-finder, spinning through your vision as you hear the sound of his laughter, gently tapping away at your heart again. Click. In the ones you pre-selected, he’s draped in sunlight, honey eyes sweet and kind, and his kisses are perpetual instead of an indulgence. Click. He’s always wearing faded orange, worn-out, but most of all well-loved. Click.

You open your eyes and they meet his own in the mirror. Time stops for once, letting you catch your breath.

Right now, he looks just as you like to remember him, as you knew him four years ago. Multicolored camp beads are resting easily against his broad neck instead of weighing him down, and he’s wearing the red converse his dad gave him. He’s too young, and so in love with you that it blinds him, but even then…now, he knows the look on your face and it makes him ask, “It’s not my first time visiting you is it?”

“You’re usually more discreet, the door right behind me wouldn’t have been your first option. But you’ve never failed to surprise me before. Tell me about your day, Luke.”

A hesitant smile crosses his face as he sheathes Backbiter against his hip, adjusting under the weight like he’s not used to it yet, and then he speaks, “We ate strawberries in the fields today, straight off the vine, but I argued that the ones you conjure will always taste sweeter to me. You smushed one against my face and I carried you home. You?”

You nod, turning around to face a ghost of your past, and the both of you meet in the middle only a hairs distance away as you admire each other.

“I graduate today. Annabeth’s driving up with her boyfriend and the rest of my family is coming to celebrate.”

He doesn’t know of Percy yet, of Chris’ insanity, of your brother’s death, and the immense hurt he’s caused everyone. The smile that lights up his face makes you realize he thinks he's still a part of this—with you. And you miss him—even when he’s right here, fuck, you miss all the versions of him that have come to visit, even the ones you don’t know of yet. Tears brim your waterline as you take a deep breath; the last thing you want to do is scare him away.

“This was his promise to me. By showing me something I was sure of—and I always knew you’d graduate and make it big. Wanted to see it for myself, baby,” he grins, tangling his fingers with yours like your strings of fate, and though you know the answer to your next question you still take a chance, just in case.

“If I tell you what’s happened since…you. Would it be too late to change your mind?”

“Trouble, do you want me to? Kronos’ plan is already set in motion. I think…” he swallows, and your vision blurs without your permission as tears start to fall. Through the film over your violet eyes, Luke frowns and pulls your fingertips to his lips, kissing each one. He hasn’t done that in years.

“Did I make a mistake? Do I lose you, in the end?”

“Angelface…” you sniff, leaning your cheek against his hand, “You were so scared of losing me that you didn't even stop to think of what losing you would do to me. I lost you so long ago, Luke. And you’re not mine anymore. I don't think you have been in a long time.” In these heels, your forehead is closer to his lips so he kisses that too, hoping that somehow this time he can will away your pain instead of his. He doesn’t know what to do but hold you until you say something again.

“I’ll tell you something you need to hear. And no matter what you say or think, babe—it’s the truth. Even without all the glory in the world I would still be yours. I still am, even if I can’t bear it.”

Though he’s holding you, it somehow feels like the opposite—a purer version of him in your embrace while he holds the broken pieces of you together with his golden touch. Right now, you look into honey instead of gold. The both of you look at each other in the mirror melded together like kintsugi, something good still shining through the cracks of you two together like this.

The sound of keys jangling in the lock of the front door lifts you from his embrace, and with one look you both know its time for him to go; Luke’s brows furrow as he mutters, “I’m sorry. I’ll fix this, and we’ll be together. I promise.” You nod anyway, hoping at least one of you believe it.

“Go home, Luke. She…I still need you. I’m always gonna.”

He’s already got Backbiter in hand and one foot through time when he looks back at you. Your voice sounds a lot like how it does when you tell him you love him. Luke wonders how long it’s been since you did. Your bedroom door opens with a bang and some laughter.

“Hey troublemaker, you left the dryer on! All your clothes are gonna shrink,” Jo grins, peeking her head through the doorway of your room and she’s looking at you in your graduation gown standing there alone.

“Were you on the phone? Who were you talking to?”

It’s quiet in the apartment again. Your fingernails make indents in your palms, bunching up into fists before you let go. A sad smile crosses your face as you let the settling wind kiss your cheeks, before reality kicks in and everything settles back to how it was before. 

“Just someone I used to know.”

—

“And no one can ever figure out what you want, and you won’t tell them, and you realize the one person in the world who loves you isn’t the one you thought it would be, and you don’t trust him to love you in a way you would enjoy.” -Richard Siken

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?)

1/2 luke taglist: @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko@bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303  @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r@visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri

[gallavichsreddie1128]

The Bet (Homelander)

Description: Homelander and Y/N make a bet that ends sexual

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 1,545k

Homelander and Y/N had an odd friendship. Not many people that meet the man put up with him or consider him a friend except Y/N. She knew he was fucked up and not okay in the head but he wasn’t an asshole to her like he was everyone else. She didn’t think much of it given the fact that she seemed to be the only one nice to him. Annie questioned her about it all the time, telling Y/N he was awful and that she couldn’t understand what Y/N saw in him. Y/N seemed to be the only one that put up with his bullshit. Y/N always told her the same thing. “He doesn’t act like that towards me.” Cuz he didn’t. Nobody knew why or understood it but that’s how it was. 

“Black Noir would kick A-Train’s ass. Are you kidding me?” Homelander said. Y/N Shrugged. “I don’t know. A-Train is fast.” “Fast is all he has.” Homelander says. Y/N stood up. “Alright then. Why don’t we make a bet?” She asked. “What kind of bet?” He asked. “If I win you have to be my personal slave for the entire week.” “And If I win..” “That’s up to you.” He smirked. “If I win I get to fuck you. Here on this table.” She was taken back by what he said. Her jaw dropped and he held the smirk. “Wait what?” She asked. He stood up from his chair. “Oh come on, Don’t act like you don’t want me to.” He said. He was a cocky son of a bitch that’s for sure. But she hadn’t really thought about it. She did find him attractive and they had a decent friendship but the thought of them having sex never crossed her mind before. “I can change it if that was too much.” He said. She shook her head. “No, it’s fine. Deal.” She said and they shook hands. 

Her jaw dropped as she watched A-Train fall to the ground. Black Noir won so quickly and easily she really didn’t stand a chance at winning this bet. Homelander had a huge smile as the scene played out in front of him. He wanted to shout “yes” at the rooftops but he looked over at Y/N and she looked defeated. He wondered if that was from the bet itself or from the fact that she lost. Either way his dick was going to be inside of her by the end of the night. She looked at him with wide eyes. “I didn’t even stand a chance.” She said. “Well I don’t know about you but I’d rather be in your shoes than A-Trains.” He said and she laughed. “And besides at least now you’ll be fucked like you deserved to be.” He whispered in her ear. That sent shivers down her body. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath trying to calm herself. He smirked at her reaction and walked away. 

She stood inside the quarters for the seven as she waited for Homelander to arrive. Her nerves were through the roof as she paced around the room. She went and bought a matching set that was red and it was under her clothes. She wasn’t in her costume but she figured he would be. She heard the door open and she stopped pacing and turned to see Homelander with a smirk on his face. She looked at him as he walked over to her. He didn’t look the least bit nervous but she was. “How long have you been in here for?” He asked her. “An hour.” She whispered. He chuckled and got closer to her. “Are you nervous?” He asked her.

She nodded and he backed her up to the table. His gloved hand put strands of hair behind her ear. “Well don’t be beautiful. I’m gonna make you feel so good.” He whispered the last part in her ear and bit it gently. She closed her eyes and sighed. His hands traveled down to her hips and lifted her on the table. She looked at him and they kissed. His lips moved against hers roughly and she pulled back. “Be gentle baby, we’ve got all night.” She whispered against his lips. Her calling him baby turned him on even more but he listened. She cupped his jaw as they kissed softly this time. His hands went under her shirt and cupped her boobs making her moan into the kiss. She pulled back from the kiss and took off her shirt revealing the red lace bra. His eyes darkened at the sight of her. He pushed her so she was laying down on the table and he kissed down her chest to her abdomen. He undid her jeans and pulled them off her revealing the red panties that matched the bra.

He took in the sight of her and sighed. “You are so beautiful.” He said, making her blush. He hooked his fingers in her lace panties but saw a hole where her pussy was showing out of. “So you wanna be fucked in the lingerie?” He asked. “Yes.” She said which made him smirk. He dropped to his knees and got the scent of her wet pussy. She smelled delicious and sweet. He nuzzled his nose in her making her gasp out and grab ahold of his hair. He took a big sniff and moaned. “Fuck, you smell so good.” He moaned and licked a big stripe up her pussy. She let out a loud moan. He took that as a sign to continue. He pulled her legs so they were over his shoulder and he started sucking and licking her pussy like it was his last meal. Her noises were loud and whiny. He was thankful the room was soundproof or some of the other heroes staying there could walk in.

He wouldn’t care if they did but he also didn’t want anyone else to see her like this. Her moans were so pretty and hot that he was getting so hard just hearing her. Her hips started humping his face and she screamed out at the feeling. His nose managed to bump perfectly on her clit making her sob. He groaned at the noise getting more turned on by the second. She was clenching around nothing and was so close. “Homelander.” She cried. “John.” He told her his name and it was all she could moan. Her breathing was getting louder and she started panting like a dog. “John, I'm gonna cum.” She whined out. He hummed against her and didn’t stop. Both of their movements were sloppy and seconds later she came with a loud moan of his name. He lapped up her juices as they spilled out of her and onto his face.

She pushed his face away once her climax had settled and she felt sensitive. He laughed and looked at her. Her chest was moving up and down fast and her eyes were closed. He stood up and she opened her eyes. She looked at him and was instantly wet again at the sight. His mouth and nose were covered in her slick. “You taste pretty good.” He chuckled. She let out a breathy laugh and sat up. She watched as he pulled down the bottom of his suit. His dick was huge and it made her shiver at bit just the thought of that inside of her. He chuckled at her reaction and pulled her closer to him. “I plan on making you cum 100 times tonight.” He growled as he entered her. She moaned out at the feeling and he groaned. She was squeezing him so hard. “Fuck, you’re tight.” He growled and started moving his hips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and placed her head on his shoulder. His arms were already around her holding her as close as possible.

They were basically hugging as he fucked her hard. The table was making a weird noise but it could barely be heard over her loud moans and his groans. “I’ve dreamed about this moment.” He growled and she moaned in response. She never would have thought that this would be the best sex of her life but it was. His hips knocking into hers. His name was all she seemed to know. He was moaning too but to her that was the hottest thing she has ever heard. Her body was falling onto his as she was getting close to her orgasm. He felt her clenching around him making him whine her name. “I’m so close, baby.” He moaned out and she nodded and looked up at him.

She managed to lean up and kiss him with everything she had. He kissed her back and she whined into the kiss and he felt her cum all over him. That triggered his release and his hips lost their rhythm. They pulled away from the kiss to moan and to breathe. They were both panting at this point and Y/N collapsed on the table. He didn’t pull out of her and got hard again. She looked up at him and he smirked at her. “I told you I was making you cum 100 times tonight.” He smirked. Boy he wasn’t kidding.

[lazycats-stuff]

HEYYY, firstly how are you! I wanted to ask if you could write about a teen male reader with the Batfam. He is kinda like the winter soldier if you know what I mean ( skilled fighter, metal arm..), since he lived with the Batfam he was doing a good mental recovery, but one day he goes back to winter soldier mode on the fam, and they try to get him back to normal again, idk

Thanks you bye !

Hi anon, I'm well and I hope you are doing okay too. I can do it, no worries.

Summary: (Y/N) gets back into the Winter Soldier mode.

Warnings: implications of torture, mind control, mentions of Hydra, Bruce is sad for (Y/N), some violence... And everything else that goes with Hydra and brain washing.

The road to recovery is often a long one. Bruce thought of it when he first saw (Y/N), aka the Winter Soldier. The infamous one, a ghost within the intel community. Many people didn't believe that the Winter Soldier even existed. But the trail of neat and clean murders was the one thing that made Bruce think there is something more.

Of course, the way to get (Y/N) was hell. Hell being and understatement of the decade. Bruce at one thought that he was indeed chasing a Ghost, but something in his mind told him that the Winter Soldier was real. Something in his gut made him chase that ghost.

Months of chasing, fighting and hoping he would be alive by the next encounter, they finally got him. Bruce was lucky to be alive. He hugged all of his kids right then and there. (Y/N) was put into a glass box, strong enough to contain Bane.

(Y/N) refused to back down, refused to retreat. He punched the glass of the cage with his metal arm and some were worried that he would actually brake it. Bruce knew that even if he broke the glass, he had no handler anymore.

His organization has been destroyed. Everyone important was caught. Those who weren't... Well, their time was running out. They may have scattered like rats, but you can bet your ass on anything that the League would find them all. Especially since they didn't burn down their base. One hell of a mistake.

Bruce and the rest searched through the base and they found something that can only be considered as a holy grail when it comes to someone who was brainwashed.

A dark red book, bounded in leather, with all the trigger words written on those pages... Bruce knew that he has hit a jackpot. He looked through them and then has decided to burn it. They also found the footage of (Y/N)'s brainwashing,

The footage, as much as it is damning, making it very easy to persecute anyone they needed, it was also nauseating. (Y/N) was tortured with electricity, memory wiped with electricity... Worse of all, (Y/N) fighting.

It had shaken Bruce to his core and made him triple check the manor security and it has made him check on his sons 5 times that night. He couldn't sleep at all. He refused to sleep that one single evening and night.

And when he stood in front of the glass cage, (Y/N) looked utterly defeated. He was sitting down, looking down at his metal arm and his human arm. He seemed mad beyond belief that he was even caught. Bruce knew he would have to be delicate and gentle with this (Y/N). He had taken the book with him, to try and have some sort of leverage.

And to show him that he was free. (Y/N) was finally free of the mental shackles that they have put on him. Bruce took a chair and sat down near the cell, but far enough to make sure that there was some sort of space.

He couldn't have (Y/N) feel cornered.

He sat down, book in his lap. (Y/N) still looked down, but looked up after a few moments.

" They will come and get me back. " (Y/N) said and Bruce wanted to laugh.

" Hydra is gone. " Bruce simply stated and watched (Y/N)'s reaction.

Nothing. Huh.

" Lies. "

Bruce stayed calm and shook his head. " I'm afraid I'm telling you the truth. The book you see in my hands? The book with your trigger words. Do you really think they would hand it over ever so willingly? " Bruce asked, showing him the dark red leather book.

" You are officially free. " Bruce said as and watched the way (Y/N) reacted.

Bruce nearly broke when he saw hope in (Y/N)'s eyes. He never lost hope.

" I'll never be free... " (Y/N) said quietly, looking at his metal arm. Bruce saw that it was not a nice arms, made with quality. While it looked strong, it wasn't made to be comfortable. And Bruce could see the claw marks at the part where the flesh and metal met.

" That may be true. But you can start healing. You can start working through all of the trauma that they put you through. Mental scars will always be there, but I can help you. " Bruce said softly and (Y/N) was still emotionless and with hope glimmering in his eyes, there was something else too. Bruce could only decipher it as happiness, but he knew that (Y/N) would rather die than admit it.

" I'll be with you the entire way. I have a great friend who can help you unpack everything they put you through. And I can give you a better metal arm, something that wouldn't be so uncomfortable and something that reminds you off the organization. " Bruce said as he looked at (Y/N), holding the book close.

" And what about the book? "(Y/N) asked quietly and Bruce knew exactly what (Y/N) meant.

" It will be destroyed by me. I wanted to show you that the thing keeping you in their grasp is destroyed. Well, will be destroyed. " Bruce said as he put the book down on the chair before moving closer.

" And you can officially start your new life. "

" I'm not sure if I can... " (Y/N) said softly and the defenses were slowly cracking.

" I can assure you, you can. You will have to put some work into it, but it will pay off. I'll be there to help you to start. "

" But the feeling of guilt will never go away, will it? "

" After some time it will. One way is to go through therapy and work it out or you can become a hero. But that only if you want it and after you went through therapy. " Bruce said softly.

" Maybe then I'll atone for it... " (Y/N) said softly.

" One step at the time (Y/N). One step at the time. " Bruce said softly.

And that's exactly what has happened at the time. Bruce made sure to be with (Y/N) before and after the therapy sessions. He made sure (Y/N) knew he had support while he was talking to the Black Canary. And once Black Canary said he could start meeting new people, Bruce slowly started bringing his sons around.

Damian knew exactly how (Y/N) felt. Being in that environment is not easy and it's just the battle of the fittest. And one hell of a battle for your mind. You truly had to be strong enough to make sure to not completely break. Somehow, (Y/N) has kept his humanity, but he had to give a part of his soul to keep it.

Jason just talked to him about stuff and has made sure that he has access to TV shows and movies. (Y/N) needed to be connected to the outside world. And also, Jason has been bringing books for (Y/N) to read. Jason took him his favorites and often took him some classics. (Y/N) appreciated it and liked all the recommendations that Jason has brought to him. It was a nice break.

Tim has always sneaked in some snacks and the two would just talk. It was a hell of a time and since (Y/N) has started school, Tim would help with mathematics and some other subjects. (Y/N) couldn't really go to a public school or any type of school, but he still needs his high school diploma.

And Dick? Dick has been involved in making sure that (Y/N) was getting physical activity. (Y/N) was stiff in Dick's opinion and he wanted to make sure (Y/N) felt good in his body too. Dick did stretches, some tricks and considering that (Y/N) did have some knowledge about gymnastics, it was slightly easier. Not to mention, stretches were something that everyone needs.

About a year after being saved, (Y/N) has moved into the Wayne Manor. It was a nice change of scenery for (Y/N). Beautiful manor, garden, not to mention no noises... And Titus, the Great Dane being an emotional support animal for (Y/N)...

(Y/N) was incredibly happy, but had hard time showing it. Everyone knew but didn't comment on it. They were helping him get adjusted to his new life now and they were more than happy to help. And one thing that made (Y/N) happy out of his mind was the fact that he got a new metal arm. It was black, with red, blue and green accents. It was something to signalized that he was a member of the family.

Bruce was going to adopt him soon enough. Just give him some time and he will do it.

But something happened at the two month mark. Something made him reverse back into the Winter Soldier mode. Bruce was certain that they wiped the triggers from his mind. Not to mention, the boys remembered the trigger words, just in case something like this happened and that they could be careful.

But something must have snapped inside of (Y/N). The boys were careful, but something must have gone awry. Something.

Jason and Dick were the first ones to see it and were the first ones to see it and the brunt end of it. Jason was hurled out the window, while Dick was thrown at the wall like a rag doll. The commotion woke Tim up and Damian was curious as to what was going on.

They were also thrown around the room.

" (Y/N), you are not a Winter Soldier, relax! " Jason said as he made his way through the window, grunting at the pain.

" Please, (Y/N) this is not you! " Dick yelled as he gripped his sides, huffing and panting.

(Y/N), seemingly didn't hear anything and nothing was reaching him. The cold and murderous look in his eyes was more than enough to tell them that they had to subdue him.

Somehow.

Damian jumped on (Y/N)'s shoulders, trying to take his metal arm off. Once they get that off, they are going to be fine. They hope at least.

" (Y/N) come on! Fight it! " Damian raised his voice, trying to make (Y/N) see his senses. (Y/N) didn't listen and threw himself into the wall, back first to throw Damian off and then he threw Damian into the shelves, making him groan in pain.

Bruce walked in from the outside and froze in shock. His adopted sons in various stages of pain and (Y/N) in the Winter Soldier mode. Bruce stayed calm as he glanced over his sons.

They were alive and breathing. That's the important thing right now.

" (Y/N) listen to me. " Bruce said softly as he moved closer, quickly checking on his sons, who were all softly confirming that they were good.

" Look at me. Remember me. It's Bruce. You are safe. The Winter Soldier doesn't control you, you control him. " Bruce said, raising his hands in the air, trying to make sure that he didn't look like threatening.

" You control him, remember that. " Bruce said as he quickly checked on Jason.

(Y/N) looked like he was confused and shook his head. Bruce watched in silence as (Y/N) was getting his bearings together. And once he saw tears falling down his cheeks, he swooped in and hugged his son.

(Y/N) wept as Bruce embraced him and everyone, including Alfred, brought him into a hug. It was a tight hug and Bruce refused to let (Y/N) shatter. And (Y/N) felt safe Bruce's embrace, but by God, guilt was eating him alive.

Apologies were falling from his lips and everyone assured him that it wasn't his fault. It really wasn't his fault.

[animeomegas]

I wanted to ask if you can do a more in-depth, for Shikamaru in his obsession. Like, A more in-depth look at everyone’s reaction when they found out and a more in-depth look at how they treat each other. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I am obsessed with Shikamaru and his obsession

Hehe, I think lots of people love Shikamaru and his obsession~ I decided to write about what happens just after they met for the first time, hope you enjoy~

Omega!Shikamaru x Alpha!Reader

Summary: Meeting his obsession at only age 5, Shikamaru is lucky enough to have his entire lifetime with his obsession at his side. Shikaku doesn't feel quite so lucky.

Word count: 1.25k

Warnings: None.

Shikaku didn’t know whether to be proud, irritated or resigned at the situation that had been suddenly dumped in his lap. The burn of your parents’ suspicious eyebrow raises had him leaning towards the latter two emotions, but the happy purrs his son was letting at his feet, massaging his baby Obsessions hands in his own, tipped the scale back towards proud.

He still couldn’t believe that his son, barely five years old, had already found his obsession. He had been dreading the day this happened, remembering the way his own father had had to reign him in when he fell for Yoshino, and anticipating an older Shikamaru giving him some good old-fashioned karma. But it happening this soon wasn’t something he had predicted, nor something he was ready for. Even in his worst-case imaginings, he had thought about a hormonal fifteen-year-old Shikamaru, never a five-year-old that had only just started learning how to control his emotions.

Shikaku sighed and rubbed his face with his hand. The whole situation was troublesome.

“I understand that this is shocking, it is a surprise to us as well, Naras rarely find their obsessions this young,” his wife explained to your parents.  He was so glad she was here to help him handle this. “But it isn’t something that can be taken back, nor something that can be stopped, so our best course of action is to figure out how we’re going to move forward.”

“This isn’t our first-time hearing about the Nara obsession instinct,” your mother said, seemingly the more relaxed one of your two parents, if the way your father was perched on the edge of the sofa like a tightly coiled spring was anything to go by. “But we had planned on only allowing sleepovers once they turned eight, so hearing about the expectation of sleepovers so suddenly isn’t easy to digest. I don’t understand why playdates can’t suffice.”

Shikaku tuned out Yoshino’s response, knowing that she would handle everything while ruffling as few feathers as possible. Well, provided your parents remained civil and open-minded. If they started demanding things that would hurt Shikamaru, Shikaku would have to pull her back before she decided violence was the best way to solve the problem. But seeing as the coast was clear for the moment, he turned his gaze towards his only son.

Shikamaru still had a tight grip on your hand, but his full attention was on your face now. He was leaning in just a little too close as you spoke, but you didn’t seem to mind. At least the silver lining was that Shikamaru had picked a relaxed baby alpha to obsess over.

“Your hair is very pretty,” you said quietly, a little smile on your face. “I like it.”

Furious purrs erupted from Shikamaru, his little face flushing in pride. Shikaku watched with amusement as Shikamaru immediately used his free hand to try and pull his hair out of his ponytail. His tiny fingers fumbled for a moment, but he eventually got it loose and yanked it out, pulling a few strands out along with it without so much as a flinch.

Shikaku remembered that feeling all too well, the way the desire to please Yoshino, make her happy with him, overshadowed everything else, even pain. When he first chose her, he would have been able to walk over a field of glass without flinching if he thought it would make her smile.

“You can touch it if you want,” Shikamaru said, practically vibrating with excitement as he leant his head forward, his now loose hair falling forwards towards you. “I don’t mind.”

“Wow, so soft!” you exclaimed, running your fingers through his hair. “Do you wash it with fairy dust?”

“No, just shampoo, but I also use conditioner,” Shikamaru announced proudly, pushing his head into your hand like a cat.

Shikaku smothered a snort. He imagined that Shikamaru would no longer roll his eyes and try to get out of using conditioner at bath time, something he was sure would delight his wife.

“We just can’t agree to that many nights with them away from home, away from us, they’re our child,” your mother said, just as Shikaku turned one ear back to the main conversation. “We might be able to divide the four nights in half though. We could have Shikamaru stay with us for two nights, but we’d need support navigating their relationship because we don’t know what’s normal or-“

Confident that things were going well enough that he wouldn’t have to restrain his wife, Shikaku turned back to his son and the baby alpha sitting on the floor beside him.

“Can I plait your hair, please?” you asked his son, still idly petting him.

Only yesterday, the same question had come from Ino, although the tone had been a little more demanding, and his son had rolled his eyes, refused, called Ino troublesome and gone to hide upstairs to take a nap.

His response now was like night and day. Shikaku watched his son’s face light up, his head bobbing up and down instantly.

“Yes, yes, whenever you want,” he said, falling over himself to turn around and present you with the back of his head. He scooted backwards until he was almost on your lap and then folded his hands together on his lap, waiting with barely contained excitable energy.

It was so strange seeing his son like this. He was used to his lazy petulance when face with chores, the competitive gleam in his eyes when they played shogi, his thinking face when he was presented a new puzzle or mystery, but this tidal wave of genuine, open affection and eagerness for companionship was something Shikaku had never seen.

“Thanks! You’re the best, Shika!” you said, separating his hair into three parts.

His son looked ready to ascend to a different plane of being.

This whole thing was a mess, Shikaku though, rubbing at his eyes. He wasn’t looking forward to the hundreds of tantrums he’d have to diffuse, the weird impulses he’d have to redirect or having to host another five-year-old in his house all the time. However, the pure happiness radiating off his son was more than worth all the bad. He was glad that Shikamaru would have his obsession with him for his entire life, and maybe it was wishful thinking, but hopefully Shikamaru would be used enough to his obsession and coping mechanisms that the hormonal nightmare of teenagerhood wouldn’t be so bad.

Shikaku gave the two children one more glance, vaguely amused to see Shikamaru silently mouthing ‘my alpha’ over and over again as you focused on plaiting his hair, before properly turning back to the conversation he was supposed to be a part of.

Everything would work out; he would make it so.

…

BONUS:

“Well, we should probably head off now,” your father said, standing up, holding the newly drawn up custody arrangement. “We’re having dinner with my parents tonight. Darling, time to leave, go and get your shoes on, please.”

“WHAT?! NO!”

“Here we go,” Shikaku sighed, trying to intercept Shikamaru before he got a hold on the baby alpha. Too late.

“Shikamaru, let go, they have to go home,” he said, kneeling down on the floor with them both.

“No!” his son whined, tears gathering on his water line. “They’re my alpha! Mine!”

“Shikamaru, that wasn’t a suggestion. Let them go.”

Shikamaru only growled at him, so Shikaku just started pulling him off you by the scruff.

“Shikamaru, stop struggling, stop- Ow! You little- He just bit me!”

[mrsdesade]

Hey!! i love your writing, feel free to ignore, but i just wanted to request homelander x reader where he introduces the reader to ryan or how the three of them spend time together, something like that

thank you!!

OF COURSE, I love the idea! Maybe I'll do a part.2 with all the headcanons about how they spent time together! Thanks for the request dear anon! :)

Pretty golden cage;

Pairing: Homelander x fem!super (Ophera as usual) TW: no one, just bit of tension/angst and Homie being an asshole Timeline: season 4 Words count: 3,6k

You always knew who Ryan was. Homelander's beloved son. Rumors about him were whispered by everyone at Vought Tower, and you had been paying attention over the years. You knew about his powers, about the unfortunate way he came into the world, and how attached Homelander was to him.

You already had your problems, you didn't mean to get close to that too. You never judged Ryan for his choices or his actions, quite the opposite. You felt quite sorry for him.

Trapped in a golden cage, with the suffocating attentions of his father, who continued to demand only perfection from and for him. It happened to you too, at the beginning of your relationship with Homelander. In which you are still trapped with no way out.

You had wondered why he still hadn't insisted on you being Ryan's mother. But that was okay, you didn't want it. Until the day arrived, the day of your official introduction to each others.

"Ryan, theres someone I want you to meet. This is Ophera.''

Ryan glances at you with a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty, his eyes tracing the features of your incredibly beautiful face. Made for the spotlight. He's clearly intrigued by your appearance, but also a little intimidated by it.

"H-hi, Ophera."

You can feel the weight of Ryan's gaze on you, and you can sense his nervousness at finally meeting you. The situation definitely feels a bit bizarre, considering your complicated relationship with his father. You glance briefly at Homelander, unsure of how to approach this interaction.

He stands aside, watching you and his son, with a hint of trepidation. He seems just as uncertain about how you two will interact. He silently observes your reaction and lets you respond to him.

You can't deny it to yourself, one misstep with the little boy and everything is over for you. But you've never been good with children, and you know her father's expectations are very high. He will not admit any mistakes or flaws.

Trying to break the ice, Ryan smiles at you, even though is a slightly wobbly smile, and asks a question.

"So, you're... the singer, right? I saw you on tv. And my dad speak a lot about you and your music."

His words surprise you a little. You're not used to hearing Homelander talking about you, at least positively. You try to find the right words to respond to his comment with a gentle smile.

"Yes, It's me. And I am surprised that your father talks about me to you. Did he say something nice?" you can't help but wonder what else he's told him.

"Yeah. He said your singing voice is really beautiful and that you have a lot of fans. He also said you can control some kinds of metal and you're really strong. He's lucky to have a woman like you to his side."

''Oh, uhm, yeah-- yes...he's right.''

The situation becomes more and more weird for you, you don't know what the point of the situation is, or because Homelander wanted you to meet Ryan. Out of courtesy or for some other strange reason?

As the conversation continues, you can't shake off the feeling that there's a deeper meaning behind this meeting. Homelander's intentions are unclear and there's definitely something else behind this introduction. He seems to be carefully watching your every interaction with his son, analyzing your reactions and responses.

Ryan seems to be more at ease now, and his nervousness begins to fade away while he walk with you around the room and making you sit beside him on the sofa. But there is still silence between you, you don't know what to talk about.

You take a deep breath and decide that you have to improvise, you lean towards the boy and pretend to whisper something to him, in an gentle and funny way.

''I know it's hard for you too, I understand, it's embarrassing to have to interact like this...but let's say something, anything, so your dad will be happy and he let's us go back to our business.''

Ryan looks at you with a mixture of curiosity and relief. He seems a bit surprised by your casual and friendly approach, but he clearly appreciates it. He lowers his voice too and responds in a whisper.

"Yeah, it's a bit weird. My dad's been talking about you a lot, but I didn't know what to say or what to ask you…"

Homelander, noticing Ryan's relaxed expression and your attempt to break the ice, finally decides to join the conversation. His voice is light, friendly sarcastic.

"I can't believe you're talking about me behind my back.'' he says with a hint of faux-offended tone in his voice. He walks over to where you and his son are sitting, takes a seat on the armchair opposite the sofa.

''Come on, you can ask her whatever you want, she don't bite.''

"Okay, then...um..."

He takes a moment, clearly thinking of a question to ask. He glances at you, then back at his father. It's evident that he's not sure what kind of question will please his dad.

Seeing how Ryan is in difficulty, you decide to take the reins of the situation.

''Listen, Homelander. I really appreciate you wanting me to meet your son...it's really cute from you. And he seems a good little boy. But I don't understand what's happening and why I am here today.''

"Ah, always to the point, aren't you?" he replies, a note of sarcasm in his voice.

"I just want to introduce my son to the woman I care about."

You don't believe his sweet words, you know he only does it to appear like a good person in front of his son. But you can't expose him, you don't want to, you're just trying to understand what's your role is in this show.

Homelander notices the skepticism on your face, but he remains cool and composed.

"Oh, come on! Can't I be a loving father who wants his son to meet the woman he's dating?"

The word "dating" stings you as soon as it crosses his lips. It's not true, you're not actually dating, not in the traditional understanding of the term. Ryan looks between you and his father, a bit perplexed by the interaction. The boy's clearly not used to this dynamic.

Any other woman would have acted differently, she would have thrown herself into cuddling and giving affecction to the boy without hesitation. Even just for fear of not pleasing his father. But you don't have this instinct. The maternal instinct has never belonged to you. And now you feel the weight of it, you really want to help Ryan get out from this situation, but you are in difficult too. And all your stage audacity seems to vanish in front of a child.

''Sure, sure you can...I wonder why you didn't introduce us sooner.''

Homelander gives a little laugh, enjoying your sarcastic response.

"Who knows..." he replies nonchalant. "I guess I just wanted to wait for the right moment. But now, here we are. And I think Ryan already likes you."

Ryan, who has been quietly following the conversation, nods in agreement. He doesn't seem entirely convinced or comfortable in the situation, his eyes are searching for yours. Subconsciously hoping that you can show more humanity than all the other supers he's met so far.

"Yeah, you're... cool. I listened to your song, I like them."

''Oh, and what's your favourite?---'' you are about to answer to him, finally with a normal kind of conversation, but you are interrupted.

"See? Looks like you've got a new fan!" Homelander gets up from the armchair, walking over to stand behind you on the sofa. His hand rests possessively on your shoulder.

"Isn't she great?" he asks, looking down at you with a hint of malice in his eyes. "She's smart, talented, and beautiful. The perfect woman."

Ryan nods again, trying to look enthusiastic, but something in his expression seems forced.

You can't tolerate this, you sense Ryan's anxiety constantly. You and him are trapped in the same cage. Then you then turn to Homelander and give him a seemingly kind smile, trying to you try to change the subject. You're going to put up with it for the little boy's sake.

''Seems pretty clear that I've been approved.''

Homelander grins, satisfied with your response. He gives your shoulder a light, almost condescending little pat.

"Oh, definitely approved." he says, the possessive hint in his tone still there. "He's a smart kid, he knows a good person when he sees one."

Ryan looks at you from across the room, trying to gauge your reaction. He can sense that you're trying to make things better, but the atmosphere in the room is still a bit awkward.

"Buddy, why don't you ask her to sing a little something for us?" Homelander ask, clearly intending not to let the moment end.

The little one looks surprised by the imprompt request. He glances briefly at you, clearly hesitant about the idea. Seeing his discomfort, you give him a reassuring look, as if to tell that you can handle it. At least that would have been a good moment.

''I don't know dad, maybe she doesn't want to, maybe she's tired...''

''Nah. It's just a little song, it won't hurt her, will it?" Homelander's expression hardens slightly, his tone becoming sarcastic.

"Um…can you sing something for us…please?"

''What's your favourite song of mine Ryan? I'd love to sing for you.'' you gently said to Ryan, leaning in his direction. Trying your best to create a serene moment out of this tense situation. He seems grateful for your attempt to divert the situation from his father's command to sing.

"I like your cover of I Can't Help Falling in Love. Could you sing that?''

You nod slightly, smiling gently at Ryan. ''Great choice.''

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, and then start to hum to warm up a little. Then, taking a deep breath, you begin to sing the opening notes, your eyes closing for a moment as you surrender to the music.

''Wise men say only fools rush in. But I can't help falling in love with you. Shall I stay? Would it be a sin?''

As you begin to sing, both find themselves mesmerized by your voice. Even Homelander, who has heard you countless times before, is once again taken aback by the power and emotion you infuse in your voice. Ryan, seems to forget the situation he's in and the tension in the air. He leans slightly forward, his eyes wide open, listening to your voice filling the room.

''Darling, so it goes. Some things are meant to be. Take my hand, take my whole life, too. For I can't help falling in love with you.''

The lyrics of the song seem to echo even more in that room. You're not just singing, you're communicating in the best way you know.

The last few notes of your singing trail off in the air, as the room falls into a moment of reverent silence. Your eyes open, and you look at Ryan, who seems completely enraptured by your voice.

''Wo-hoow! Your voice live is a thousand times more beautiful than on TV.'' the boy lets out a spontaneous and sincere comment, and you find yourself laughing softly, sincerely, this time.

''You're too cute little one, I'm happy you appreciate my version of this song.''

''It's awesome, you're awesome! I'd like to see you live one day, the whole show!''

''Whenever you want kid, I'll get you a VIP pass to have the best seat in the whole stadium.''

''Really?? You're not joking right?''

''Dinner with the celebrity and Meet and Greet included.'' you can't help but gently indulge him, his spontaneity and his desire to escape from routine.

Ryan's eyes light up at the proposition and he felt comfortable continuing the conversation with a genuinely happy expression on his face. It's obvious that this little exchange between you two has lifted his spirits.

Homelander, on the other hand, seems a little taken aback by the interaction. He's not used to see you so... genuine and soft with someone. He claps his hands, disrupting the moment of calm. As if needing to regain some control.

''What a lovely bonding time we had here. You are making me really happy.''

You feel slightly irritated by his sudden interruption. You are still smiling, but now it's a little forced. Your eyes dart towards him, and your expression seems to say "Really? Just when something good was happening, you have to ruin it?"

Nevertheless, your years of experience with the Vought Company and your work as a celebrity have taught you the art of masking your true feelings. So, you don't let your annoyance shine through too much, at least not in front of Ryan.

Homelander, noticing the change in your expression, seems to realize that he might have intervened at the wrong time. He didn't really mean to interrupt the bonding moment between you and Ryan, but rather, he felt a little left out.

As if he wanted to say: "Hey, look at me. I want to be part of this, too."

His sudden intervention seems to be driven more by a need to be acknowledged and included than by a desire to intentionally ruin the situation. Despite the fact that you've been with him for years, and you know he's a narcissistic asshole, the current moment seems to reveal a slightly different aspect of him.

As you notice the hint of vulnerability in Homelander's eyes, your irritation slightly lessens. You know him too well, and you can tell when he's faking his usual arrogant confidence and when he genuinely feels left out.

It's almost comical how someone as powerful and imposing as him can feel left out.

You're trying to maintain your composure, to keep your guard up, but a part of you can't help but find him a bit... cute, in this moment of uncharacteristic vulnerability.

''Don't worry big boy, I have a VIP pass for you too.'' you say laughing, looking at Ryan, as If you're seeking his support after making a little joke at his father.

Ryan can't help but chuckle at your little comment. He looks up at his father, clearly amused to see him taken aback by your joke. Homelander glares at you for a moment, pretending to be annoyed, but there's a twinkle in his eye, as if he secretly enjoys the little banter.

"Yeah, right, very funny... I guess I'll need that front row seat. Like I need your permission to have one.''

''Ooh, someone's getting defensive now, are we?'' you tease.

Ryan laughs even more, enjoying this whole situation. You can tell that the boy has been craving for some lighthearted moments, considering what he's gone through.

"Well, to be fair, it's good to have options, right dad? You can't always rely on your superpowers to grab the best seat."

You and Ryan share a knowing glance, a silent alliance between you.

"Oh, shut it, you two. I'm the one taking care of the both of you, you should be grateful." he says, his tone carrying no real threat.

Slowly the atmosphere becomes pleasant for all three, and so you spend an hour together. The conversation gradually shifts from teasing banter to more casual topics. Homelander eventually starts to relax a bit, his typical guard lowering. Ryan seems to genuinely enjoy the time spent with both of you, and the boy's innocent and endearing presence helps to ease the tension that sometimes exists between you and Homelander.

As the sun begins to set and the shadows grow longer, the day starts to wind down. The room is bathed in the soft, golden light of the evening, creating a cozy atmosphere.

As the evening progresses, you slowly start to realize that you're actually enjoying yourself. Spending time with Ryan, feels strangely...comfortable. Your initial plan of tolerating a child just for Homelander's sake is slowly replaced by the realization that this kid is not so bad after all. You find yourself smiling easily, genuinely enjoying the little exchanges.

The realization is a bit unsettling to you. It's not that you're used to seeing yourself as a particularly warm and compassionate person. You can't help but question your own prejudices and assumptions about yourself. Perhaps, beneath the hardened persona that you've built up over the years, there's a softer side to you that you forgot.

As the last rays of sunlight disappear and the night sky takes over.

''Ryan, you should get some rest. It's late."

''What? Why now? I was showing Ophera my movie collections!'' the boy protests, making you laugh.

''No arguing. Come on, bedtime." Homelander's tone is firm but gentle, and you see Ryan clearly not happy to have to end the fun.

''I'm not a child dad, I mean, I can stay awake more...''

You approach him and put a hand on his back with kindness, then you try to convince him with a more delicate but still original approach.

''Hey Ryan, listen to me, I suppose we're way past your bedtime. And pretty boy need rest to stay pretty. You don't want to wake up tomorrow with dark circles under your eyes, do you?''

"I guess you're right... I don't want to look like a zombie tomorrow." he end the argument with a little joke.

You chuckle with a hint of satisfaction at Ryan's response. Seeing how the boy accepted your words, makes you glad that you didn't have to rely on Homelander's authoritative approach to get him to comply.

''Very well. Now, go and get some beauty sleep.''

He took all of his stuff and then he wave a cute goodbye to you and Homelander before heading off to his room. As the sound of his footsteps slowly fades away, there's a moment of silence between you two.

Time for the showdown.

"Well, isn't this touching. My two favorite people… getting along so well."

You turn to face Homelander, raising an eyebrow at his comment and becoming serious again, like everytimes he try and succeed to manipulate you.

"I'm not doing this for you.''

"Is that so? Funny, I thought you hated children. Yet here you are… playing the role of a loving mother.” he teases.

The moment the word mother leaves his mouth, you can't help but visibly tense up. Your eyes narrow and your jaw clenches, a mix of anger and discomfort showing on your face. Being referred to as a “mother” triggers a deep-seated anxiety within you, stirring up memories and fears that you've worked hard to suppress. The word carries a weight that you don’t want to associate with yourself.

You take a deep breath, trying your best to conceal the inner turmoil that his words have stirred up. It's ironic that he should use that word, given the fact that you, in your mind, you’ve never seen yourself as a motherly type. It feels like a cruel mockery, a reminder of something that you have never been taught and that sadly you will never be able to understand.

''Don't you dare. I know your plan, and no, I'm not going to play the role of a mother for him. Being your partner causes me enough stress.''

He sees the reaction that the word mother elicits from you and he smirks, realizing that he has found a vulnerable spot.

"Don't be so tensed, sweetheart..." he steps closer to you, a hint of mischief in his eyes, enjoying the fact that he's managed to get under your skin.

"You know, Ryan needs a mother figure in his life. Someone who can guide him, care for him. You could be that person. I know you're capable of it, deep down.”

"Oh, spare me the sentimental crap." you snap, your voice filled with irritation and defiance. You know he's trying to manipulate you, to make you feel guilty for not wanting to be what the little boy needs.

"Don't you dare assume you know what I'm capable of. I have my own duties and responsibilities. Being a motherly figure for your kid wasn't part of the deal..."

"You may deny it, but I can see the way you interacted with the boy. You connected with him, in your own unique way. And it would be really cruel from you to deprive him of a mother's love right now that he's bonding with you.''

He's trying to make you feel guilty, and oh God, he's succeeding.

His words touch a nerve, making you inwardly squirm, of anger and guilt inside you. You know he's trying to play on your emotions and make you feel responsible for depriving Ryan of something he needs.

"Besides, think about it as an opportunity," Homelander continues his manipulation, moving even closer to you, his voice becoming softer, his eyes meeting yours.

"The perfect family picture, you and me and Ryan.''

The thought of having a "perfect family picture'' with Homelander and Ryan both disgusts you and scares you, yet a small part of you secretly yearns for the sense of belonging and family that's been missing in your life.

''No, I can't...absolutely not.''

''I know you can be that for him. I saw it with my own eyes. And you're going to be. Or else..." there's a sinister undertone in his chuckle.

''Or else what?'' you answer, facing him, feeling trapped again, without any free will.

''Oh, sweetheart, you don't wanna find out.'' he concluded, slowly crawling with his hand gripping lightly your throat, forcing you to look up at him.

Reminding you once again, that you're the celebrity, but he's the one who directs every show, every chapter of your life.

-------

Thanks again for the request, it was really good to write, hope you like it! Kisses <3

[skelliko]

Tokyo revengers |°- random head cannons that I had stored

๑ Hanma ironically and out of nowhere 'sang' twist by Korn next to kisaki to get his reaction which caused kisaki to immediately whip his head over at the doofus with genuine fear in his eyes, he took a step backwards from Hanna, hands up and everything. but after a few seconds of staring at the 'possessed' specimen he just annoyingly does a "what the fuck is wrong with you..."

๑ ran doesn't crack his bones/knuckles often but if someone's around him that absolutely despises the sound of cracking bones he'd do it continuously without a care and finds major enjoyment in watching the person's face scrunch up in discomfort, sometimes he snickers too

๑ while chifuyu was in his 'major delinquent era, thinking he's better than everyone else' he was walking down the school stairs all cool and trying to be intimidating but then slipped on one of the stairs and fell on his butt. only one person saw but the amount of embarrassment he got from that when they made eye contact made him want to disappear from earth -this caused him to always be slow and actually look out for the steps so that it doesn't happen again.

๑ seishu finds it hilarious to fake a laugh at someone's awful joke for a second or two but then immediately go dead silent and just stare at the person with no seen emotion at all

๑ seishu is amazing at cooking, he's like a chef. but where'd he learn all this from? he doesn't answer, it's basically a mystery. but in his room he hides written down recipes that he copied out from books and other places

๑ when Baji was younger he decided to try and cook his own food for himself but accidently set a kitchen towel on fire by mistakingly setting it on top of the wrong oven circle -out of panic he got rid of it by quickly throwing it out the window in a panic making it land on someone's car windshield

๑ kazutora is actually quite close with Baji's mom. at some point he slipped up when calling out for her and accidentally called her 'mom' and sure enough he got embarrassed real quick and by a lot. ryoko took pride into that title tho, knowing that she mistakenly got called mom by someone else other than her own son made her feel oddly happy - although she mentioned that kazu is fine in calling her 'mom' he never did it again cause he still finds it embarrassing

๑ kazutora secretly takes photos of his friends crushes and sniggers about it while showing it to his friend. it's basically his little thing whenever he's told that someone has a crush, he doesn't do it to a big extent but just one of two pictures and it's usually just from the back or the side. he's been told multiple of times to quit and delete them but secretly they all knows he's doing them a favour cause when kazu sends them the photos they don't delete 'em

๑ peh holds grudges against people just for the sake of it, if he met someone and they had accidentally done something like step on peh's shoe then the next time they see eachother he would death stare them until they walk past and out of eye view, sometimes he just randomly feels like making enemies even despite being on 'silent and mutural' terms with someone.

๑ when akkun first had the thought of becoming a hairdresser he attempted in cutting his own hair and it actually turned out pretty good, cause of this he ended up cutting makotos hair however akkun had purposely cut his hair badly out of revenge for leaving 'filthy magazines' in akkuns room where his mom had found- making him to be unintentionally framed by makoto

๑ kisaki has a shit tone of books about manipulation and how to read people, how to carefully plot plans and use everything and anything to his own advantage even if things don't work out

๑ the reason why shion get frequent stomach aces is cause he has a bit of sweet tooth, he doesn't get hungry often so he forgets to actually eat a propper meal sometimes but when he sees something sweet and colourful he can't help but take more than a peck at it.

๑ at some point mitsuya accidentally knocked over a massive jar of beads over at the sowing club and took 2 hours collecting each one

๑ when taiju first started mending to his restaurant he had a bit of a high temper and would crack easily to his new employees if they spilled something or cut up a carrot with incorrect sizes, but after getting used to owning a business he somehow became the 'best boss' and grew to be pretty chill even if someone does a mistake - unless if it's a continuous mistake, then he'll get pissed

๑ taiju had a massive fixation with sharks and cool, colourful looking fish when he was younger. going to aquariums on a daily basis and as a kid he had collected little figurines of sharks, orcas and killer whales that he displayed. up till now he still have one of the shark toys displayed on a shelf since it was his all time favourite.

๑ yazuha hates bugs (cannon) and at some point she saw a weird looking incest in the bathroom and was begging hakkai to kill it or simply get it away for her but even he was disgusted by it so they kept on going back and forth about what to do about it before they both decided to team up and tackle it together. yazuha put a cup over it but while doing so the cup got knocked over from her shaky hands causing the both of them to scream as the bug started to move about but hakkai quickly put the cup back over it. they had to take a small breather and relax a little from the nerves before following through any more.

๑ Hina has a small collection of cute keychains, some of them are small plushies and a few are her favourite characters and others are random, small objects. she has some hanging on many different bags, her keys and a few hanging on thumb tacks that are stuck in a cork board on display

๑ Hina is really confrontational about anything that bothers her for other people's sake, in class most people try not to say anything rude about other people knowing that she'll over hear and they'll get their ear bitten off by her. cause of this she's kinda like the school hero against the bullies.

 ♡---

[kelin-is-writing]

Endeavor is not the only one to blame for ruining the family. Rei is equally to blame for ruining the family as well. She is a completely TERRIBLE and SHIT mother. Has done absolutely NOTHING for her kids. She neglected Dabi, Fuyumi and Natsuo. Willing to replace her own son by creating another kid. That fucked up. Had creepy disturbing thoughts against her own kids just coz they look like their father. Getting slapped is no fucking excuse to further neglect all of her kids by running away and abusing Shoto. As a mother she has no responsibility whatsoever. Rei is no victim. Rei is an abuser who got what she deserved. There's no point in complaining about Endeavor all the time but glorifying Rei. Both are equally bad parents. If you still don't realise that then please don't be a mom. #FuckRei #WorstMotherEver #KillRei

Okay, first of all how about you calm down? We don’t even know each others, but you come into my inbox asking for a not so civil discussion? Yooooo 😂😂😂

And you know what? Yes, Endeavor is entirely to blame actually because everything that happened is a consequence of his big ass man actions and yes, Rei wasn’t a good mother (Nobody said the contrary), but at least she tried unlike someone else who was way too self-absorbed to see anyone else aside from his egotistical self and his selfish goal.

“She neglected her kids”, Well of course she did! Every 2/3 business days she was busy popping out kids like a children machine and not being able to say anything back, otherwise her good-for-nothing and abusive “Husband” would beat her up and blame everything on her. Oh! What a coincidence! Just like how you did right now! Crazy, right? 😃

But what some of you peoples in this fandom fail miserably to grasp, because blinded way too much by whatever you see in Endeavor (or just because you guys like to Victim Blame), is that when the Himura’s sold her to Enji, Rei was prolly underage. Why underage? Easy. Enji is 45 when he’s introduced, while Touya is 24 right? 45-24= 21 and since ALL the married couples in Bnha have a 4 years gap (go check it on their Wikis mwah) and math isn’t an opinion: 21-4= 17 everyone! Wohoo. Right?

Rei was sold to the Todoroki’s when she was underage, but not only that… Enji has groomed her for years, then he started to spiral over greed, fame and power after he found out his child couldn’t achieve for him something that he can’t achieve on his own, because he’s a useless and self-centered beast.

Unlike him who is a whole ass adult when Touya is born, Rei is extremely young AND has become a mother for the very first time so without the guidance and the emotional support of someone who has already been a parent before her, I find it hard to for a woman to deal with both postpartum depression and rising a child alone the way she did at fucking 17 guys. And she has dealt with this over and over for four-freaking-times; Natsuo and Shoto’s ones were even worse because from the scenes alone (manga speaking) you can clearly tell Enji has forced himself on her for the last twos, furthermore Enji beats her up and from Fuyumi, Natsuo and Shoto’s reaction you can tell it wasn’t the first nor the last time since it has gone to the point where Rei was traumatized so bad that she started hallucinating of Enji’s gaze in her kids’ eyes made her have a mental breakdown. That’s how much he has abused her. All this because her husband was too focused on grooming first his wife and then his kids for the sake of a goal he didn’t have the balls to try reach by himself and projecting his insecurities on his family, because he isn’t enough of a man and pisses in his pants only at the mention of All Might’s name. I can’t take such a subject seriously, if I gotta be honest.

Mind you, this madness continued even after Touya’s death. It was during that arc, after she had dealt with four postpartum depression, depression, the pain of the knowledge that her husband has abused her mentally, physically and sexually and the death of her 13 years old son that everything went downhill for her; yet some of you guys act surprised when she had a mental breakdown? Rei had been in a constant state of brainstorming since Natsuo’s birth, if not even earlier, until she didn’t broke down completely after Touya’s passing. So yeah, maybe she wasn’t the best mother for the Todoroki siblings, but ever since she gave birth to Touya, Rei has been trying her best to be there for them and at the same time preserve her sanity. Because in a situation where she had to deal with four kids and a manchild, someone had to try and keep a semblance of balance in there even if she was one of Endeavor’s victims who’s mental health was being destroyed by a lot.

As I already said, some of you guys in this fandom lack a great amount of emotional intelligence and dare I say most of you lack depth too. I don’t expect you guys to be the most empathetic peoples in the world, really, I don’t, but this is a tad bit too much. Do you guys even try to look beyond your own noses anymore? Or has that gone out of fashion?

Also, what’s this new trend of Victim Blaming peoples who came out of an abusive environment? That’s so… Ambiguous…

Anyways! All this didn’t end for good until the whole of Japan found out his son is a Villain and he waited to beg for forgiveness (something he should’ve done sooner), only when everyone has been caught into the hurricane and almost got offed entirely as a family, which is (if you ask me, since you in my inbox) the most unattractive thing a man of his big ass age could ever do.

Everyone, stay away from peoples who lack accountability and self-awareness, because they’re going to play your mental health like a fidget spinner bubs 🫶🏻💜

Last but not least: if you want to talk this way to me and especially about such topics that bad, don’t do it on Anonymous because I will hardly take you seriously.

All this being said and cleared out of the way, hope you have a good evening 💜

[vendetta-if]

Kinda along the lines of "if MC's family put a hit out on them", suppose an heir!MC went power-hungry (Or paranoid) and put a hit out on people, what would be the reactions of everyone (ROs, Yvette, Luka, Gramps) if they were the one that MC put the bounty on.

Ash

Would be utterly devastated. They'd probably fight off all of the hitmen's attempts and burn their way back to MC. Once they're finally face-to-face with MC, they'd just ask them the reason behind all of this and ask them to kill them themself. If there's anyone they'd rather die to, it would be by MC's hands and in MC's arms.

Rin

Would be seething in cold fury. There'll probably some hints of sadness and sorrow because they really thought they can trust MC, but that is eclipsed by the rage of the betrayal. Probably never going to be able to fully trust anyone else outside of their family for the rest of their life.

They'd pay MC the same courtesy, putting even higher bounty on MC's head. It'd be an all out war between the Morozovs and the Aikawas, no matter how good of a friendship Luka has with Takashi. It would be such a Pyrrhic victory for whichever family left standing that the result might as well be mutually assured destruction.

Santana

Would be devastated and in despair. Probably going to just give up and wait for their fate. After all, what else can they do? They're not good in combat, their power can't help them, they don't have any connections or resources that can get them out of the city or to safety.

Their only wish is to be able to meet MC again for one last time and ask them why are they doing this? Santana is a nobody compared to MC and their family, considering them a threat is laughable. Should've just told them if MC is now bored of them instead of this.

Skylar

Would be in disbelief and in denial. There's no way MC would do this to them, right? It must've been villains they have fought who got away and now hold grudge against them.

With their dual powers, it would be easier for them to fight off the hitmen. But also, they'd probably fly up directly to whatever ivory tower MC resides in, phase through and try to clarify it with MC.

But once MC makes it clear that it is indeed them, Skylar's just brokenhearted, disappointed, upset, and a lot of other mix of emotions. They swear they would be the one who take MC down, no matter how many years it would take, before taking off and leaving.

Luka

Honestly, for the first few weeks, he probably wouldn't know what to do and is probably shutting down emotionally from the overwhelming stress and grief. He doesn't understand why MC would betray him like this; he has sacrificed his youth to raise and take care of MC and he thought he was doing a good job. He also doesn't want to hurt MC because he cares for them and he promised his brother.

Thankfully for him, he's got a hitman with powerful ability as his boyfriend. Jackal, upon finding out about all of this, would be livid and curse out MC for being an ungrateful brat. He's basically the only thing anchoring Luka and he tries his best to protect him and to keep him from spiraling even further.

But in his heart, he swears, once everything starts to die down and Luka is somewhere safe, he will hunt down MC, even if Luka will end up hating him. Luka might've made a promise not to harm MC and to always keep them safe to Viktor, but Jackal has never made such promise to anyone so far.

So, yeah, the probability of MC getting rid of Luka through bounty is pretty slim considering he has Jackal, who has spent most of his life surviving the same ordeal. And not only Jackal's haemokinesis is really strong, but Luka's own teleportation ability makes him a very hard man to catch.

Grandpa

Deep sorrow... and emptiness. He knows what he has to do, for the sake of his only remaining son and for himself... It's probably the hardest decision he has--and probably will--ever make in his entire life, but in the end, he knows it's necessary.

Grandpa can be stone cold--even more than he already is--when he purposefully shut down his emotions and repress his feelings, and that will be what he does for MC. Even though MC might be the heir and probably de facto head of the family in Elysium City, the old man still has a lot of sway, respect, and fear among the members of the family and some of the city's elites and officials. Especially the branch in New York, it is still under his control.

He would declare MC a traitor and start to try turn MC's own people against them--probably not all, probably some decide to stay loyal to MC, probably some just see more opportunities to rise through the ranks under MC's leadership... But the number of those who do side with Grandpa would not be small and there will probably be some kind of internal civil war within the family.

He would also put a bounty for MC's head, higher than the bounty MC put on him and he would also immediately cut off any of the family's companies that are not directly under MC's name, effectively cutting off MC's supplies of money and resources as well.

In a battle of attrition, Grandpa would probably win, plus he’ll constantly surround himself with the strongest and most loyal of his men, and with his own power allowing people to do as he commands, it is going to be really hard to kill him.

Yvette

Would be scared for her life and depending on whether you reconcile with her or not, it can be either a sense of acceptance or a sense of regret. Maybe she’s just reaping what she sowed; after all, it is already some sort of miracle that she can even live this long without any problem despite having pissed off the Morozovs.

And now, after years of being under Viktor’s protection,of course, it’s going to be their chid who’s finally had enough. She knows she has no chance of fighting or even simply confronting MC.

Her strength has never lied in combat and her powers have always been used more as support, and now, as she’s getting older, she has started to pass her prime. But what she can do is use her powers to get away and escape encounters.

Maybe she’ll leave the city if she can, but she honestly doesn’t know what to do after—or how long can she keep evading these hitmen.

[sufferu]

I like to think that, in Sloth:IF, Julius and Subaru eventually end up being friends.

Subaru is literally living with Anastasia’s dad, and I doubt she’d just — never talk to him again. So like, if she were to visit Halibel one day with her knight as her attendant, maybe after the Royal Selection ends, they’d have a very strong chance of meeting each other again. And that would be a hell of a shock for all parties involved lmao—

Subaru, greeted with a ghost from the literal worst week of his life, which he has been trying very hard to repress: You’re here?!

Julius, literally seeing a ghost, because he thought Subaru died to the Witch Cult alongside everyone else in the Mather’s Estate: You’re ALIVE?!

It probably wouldn’t go great at first. Maybe Subaru would automatically just — leave, make an excuse about taking up more shifts at work, and try not to look like he’s running away, but that’s exactly what he’s doing. He probably wouldn’t pick a fight, he gave up on that a long time ago. Maybe Julius would try to give him his space, because yeah, if their roles were swapped, he wouldn’t want a reminder of a week like that either. Or maybe after a while he’d decide that him terrorizing Subaru by basically chasing him around town via accidentally showing up where he tends to be is simply unsustainable, or at the very least entirely unfair, and eventually manages to get him to sit down and talk for a while.

They probably don’t Actually work everything out. Maybe Subaru refuses to acknowledge the lingering resentment he feels about something he knows was basically all his fault, fails to tell him that he’s still angry with him like he does when he sees him again in canon Arc 3, and Julius doesn’t know how to get him to acknowledge something like that. But they can make do.

There are probably a lot of things they don’t talk about. Not the duel, or Julius being a knight, or the massacre that chased Subaru all the way to Kararagi in the first place. They don’t talk about how Subaru looks at Julius sometimes, either. But there are other things they can discuss, especially as they start seeing one another more often. Rem is a good cook, and Subaru likes to show her off. Anastasia and Halibel’s dynamic is fun to watch, because seeing Anastasia act like a daughter and Halibel like a father feels so unnatural and peculiar that they may as well be seeing two entirely different people. Julius thinks Rigel is growing up to be so much like his father it hurts.

(In truly spectacular typical Julius fashion, Julius makes a sly joke about how he hopes he doesn���t need to repeat history with Rigel. It’s one of the only times he ever brings up their duel, and Subaru’s reaction to his comment is a large part of the reason why.)

Julius is older, but Subaru dies first. He makes a joke on his deathbed about finally managing to beat him at something. Julius finds it much less funny than he feels he ought to.

—Subaru wakes up some fifty, sixty years earlier, a teenager all over again, his son and daughter and grandchildren all lost to time, and it shatters him.

(When he sees Julius again, they don’t beat around the bush this time around. Subaru had fifty, sixty years too much of that.)

[itsclydebitches]

We've all rightly been gushing over Trent listening in on the parent-teacher conference and there are a lot of cool interpretations for why he'd eavesdrop: a crush on Ted, a tendency towards gossip (as seen in "International Break"), the fact that you just can't take the journalism out of the boy, Trent is clearly picking up personal tidbits for the book if the group's initial "Don't print that" worries are any indication, etc. So yeah, it's clear why he'd want/be okay with the door staying open.

Meanwhile, I'm slightly feral over Ted letting the door stay open and what that conveys to Trent.

Based on what we've picked up about his personal life and the direction of this season, we have good reason to believe that Trent was a deeply isolated man prior to Ted arriving. His job makes enemies simply by virtue of the profession itself, especially when you "bring the heat" as hard as he did. Roy flipping the press off at the gala in Season 1 and Nate sneaking out at dark this last episode shows us how journalists are treated on the regular: ignored, dismissed, told to "fuck off" as a matter of course. That's often well deserved, as Roy's two personal stories (Trent's article about him + the response to Isaac's attack) attest, but the end result is still a profession that alienates you from anyone other than your peers. When you're a "colossal prick" in your articles, people hate you all the more.

So Trent at least has other journalist buddies, yeah? Well, not that we've seen. I always think back to that chorus of "--The Independent" in the press room when everyone knew what Trent was going to say and how it... wasn't entirely fun ribbing. I think there's a fair bit of mockery there. Even if others disagree, I doubt that was received well by someone who wears their professionalism as an armor, who takes off his glasses as soon as they're complimented, who was, notably, closeted into his 40s. Trent is a man who is deeply aware of how others perceive him (pointing out his "vibe" feels quite calculated now: highlight what you want people to notice rather than waiting for them to find something on their own) and he is likely to read the worst of most interactions. Cue his shocked, "You really mean that, don't you?" when faced with someone like Ted who is not only genuinely nice, but blunt about it in a way that Trent can't misunderstand, or brush off via denial.

What's his home life like? Married to a woman when he's gay and that's putting a serious strain on them both. He tries to come out and isn't believed. The only other family members we know about are a toddler (who, while lovely I'm sure, can't provide Trent with the kind of emotional support an adult needs) and a father who, if we read the series through Lance's headcanons, may not have been very supportive of his son. Who else does Trent know? Uhhh... other subjects who hate him? Owners like Rebecca who want to use him? A random, potential date that he felt so little for he ditched to get a quote?

(EDIT: I can't believe I forgot to mention the strong implications that Ted was bullied in childhood/as a teenager, based on how he reacts to the whole of the club ignoring him -- resigned but unsurprised -- his reaction to Roy telling him to fuck off after he tries to mend that relationship -- disappointedly awkward "I can't believe I even tried that. What was I thinking?" -- and his body language during the locker room scene -- jumping, furtive glances towards Ted, backed up against the shower stall because shit, he's been in this situation before.

So uh, yeah. Trent may not have had a lot of friends growing up either! That was not the response of a social butterfly, but rather someone who is already very used to being ignored/dismissed/cursed out/threatened, not just within his profession, but within the school-like atmosphere of Richmond's family too.)

I'm by no means reinventing the meta wheel here, but Trent has truly undergone a STAGGERING transformation in Season 3 and the result of that is the reframing of his Season 1 and 2 scenes as, frankly, more depressing than they originally seemed. Seeing him now smiling, singing, gossiping, dressing just in t-shirts, casually snacking, making jokes, letting go enough to be a complete, hyperactive "dork" in front of others... it just hammers home how deeply unhappy Trent was before. How closed off. How closeted--in more ways than one.

So what must it mean to someone like Trent for Ted to leave the door open?

It's not just an open invitation towards community--sit near me, listen in, quietly participate, there's literally no barrier between us--but a staggeringly personal one too. I don't care if a 10-ish year old failing science is inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, the fact remains that letting anyone hear a parent-teacher conference with your ex is a hell of a show of trust. That would mean a lot to Trent in general, this acknowledgement that someone trusts the ex-prick journalist with that amount of personal information, but Ted in particular? Oh boy. Ted is the one Trent betrayed with that article! And yeah, Ted forgave him the instant he learned of it, but Trent himself was obviously feeling a lot of guilt, hence him burning his source and orchestrating a firing. Toss in the fact that Ted, despite being a VERY open man on the regular (I still laugh at his "I don't mind" to Rebecca when over-sharing about Michelle) has in fact denied Trent information in the past. No, I won't tell you that was a panic attack. Yes, I will continue the lie that it was food poisoning. Perhaps for Ted it was less about Trent knowing and more about anyone getting at the truth, but at the end of the day it amounts to the same: there was a time when Ted did not fully trust him and Trent justified that fear by writing the very article Ted was looking to avoid, even if Trent approached that situation with as much grace as he could.

So this moment, beyond the humor, just makes my brain go !!!!!! for Trent. Ted Lasso, of all people, has left the door open for Trent Crimm, also of all people, to hear the messy details of his, Henry, and Michelle's life. He is not at all afraid that this information will be spun in a bad light--Local Gaffer's Son Suffers While Father Plays at Coach Across the Pond--despite the fact that Trent is actively writing a book about him. Trent himself is so unguarded in this moment, dressed only in a t-shirt, playing around with his orange, making little quips. The Trent of Season 1 would NEVER. I mean, I think we see small glimpses of the real Trent back then, especially when Ted amuses him enough to coax his guard down for half a second (Trent's reaction to ��Make like Dunst and Union and bring it on, baby!" comes to mind. That's a gesture we're seeing a lot now that he's comfortable around the club), but on the whole he was still so, so, so isolated. No one knew the real him: gay, funny, dorky, inquisitive, longing for companionship and using the artificial 'closeness' of journalism to cover that ache up.

Now? Trent is fully a part of the Richmond community and he knows he's a part of it because everyone--Ted, Beard, Roy, Colin, Rebecca--are going out of their way to tell him that, notably in very overt ways. Trent strikes me as someone who wouldn't fully believe it when he's told someone enjoys his company; the kind of wounded, anxiety-prone person who, if casually invited to participate, would assume they're just being polite and he'd actually be an annoyance to them. Trent needs overt, obvious, beat-you-over-the-head-with-it reassurance, which is why Ted is so very good for him because Ted is composed of THE most over-the-top positivity you've ever seen. (Compare that need of Trent's to Michelle thinking that Ted is too much...) When faced with a defensive journalist Ted says explicitly that he liked spending time with Trent. When faced with a still unsure writer who thinks of himself only as an observer--never a part of the team himself--Ted literally begs with monkey noises to hear Trent's opinions. He's blunt to the point of absurdity and someone like Trent who has likely spent the majority of his life hiding/being told that his true self is inadequate needs that level of constant, neon-light reassurance.

So Ted leaves the door open to a personal conversation, refusing to literally bar Trent from his life. The best part? Colin re-opens the door because he understands Trent and he knows his coach; of course Ted wants him included. Colin asks permission to CLOSE the door, not open it, and Trent is seeing this openness again and again over the course of several months, with each episode bringing him further out of his shell as he slowly unlearns that self-doubt. Yes, please stay, please tell us what you think, please offer your advice, please join our Diamond Dogs, please ask us questions (they're no longer perceived as a threat), please become an integral part of our lives. We trust you and we like you and we want you here.

Everyone's waiting for Trent to catch the door again because, you know, the rule of three, but what if he doesn't need to? What if he's past slipping a hand or a foot through the crack and scraping by on what that gets him? He caught the door before it could close to get closer to Colin. He caught the door before it could close to get closer to Ted. Now they've both kept the door open for him, his presence welcomed from the get-go.

Trent doesn't need to sprint for that opening anymore.

[damneddamsy]

renegade | aemond targaryen x oc (part v)

-> (18+, sexual themes, mdni)

Celebratory feasts with the royalty had always been nasty business. Like all the others before, the temper of the sons intermixed with the impulsivity of the daughters, would be documented in blood and destruction. This particularly small gathering of families was one hosted to commemorate the union of Prince Aemond and Princess Aemma, improvised quite similar to their secret wedding. It wasn't short of inordinate food and drink, the table replenished to make up for the wedding feast that never occurred.

Aemma was a mire of misery, plagued with a terrible headache as a result of insomnia, and barely focused on the brewing consternation between the families. The Hightowers had sharpened their aims on her. Aemond, on the furthest end of the table, had crises of his to take notice.

Halaena did; she squeezed Aemma's thigh to get her attention. "You're too fragile. Retire for the night."

Aemma bared an appreciative smile and laid her hand atop Helaena's. "Thank you, Hel, but it would be impolite. Especially with the grandsire in attendance."

A weakened King Viserys raised his shivering glass in a toast, his words an effortful rasp. The room quietened to heed his word.

"A toast to a true Targaryen wedding in secrecy, my good Hand tells me. My son, Prince Aemond, to my granddaughter... Aemma." Her name was a pained whisper. "As spirited as the woman she was named after. Congratulations."

The table lifted their glasses with mumbles of half-hearted 'congratulations'. Jace and Luke remained frozen, staring daggers into their plates. It was Daemon who exclaimed a loud 'hear, hear!' for everyone else. Aemma sent him a grateful smile.

Aemond offered up the slightest of nods and sipped from his glass, finally glancing at Aemma. Awareness flickered in his eyes when he saw the way she restlessly cupped her neck. They were seated too far apart for him to reach across and comfort her.

Aemma, upon her turn, dutifully flourished a convincing smile. Her voice came out clearer than she expected. "Your blessing warms our hearts, Your Grace. We are much obliged," she said on behalf of her and Aemond.

"Yes," the king breathed heavily, "let us hope your union will bridge the rift in the House of the Dragon."

Aemond cleared his throat and carelessly raised his glass, heedless of the fact that the king was yet to conclude his toast. Aemma watched him, curious rather than shocked.

"I'd like to raise a toast," he announced then met her gaze. "To my sworn friend, now wife. Aemma, I'd relinquish life itself for your ideals. Perhaps it is only an appropriate time to inform everyone that in nine days, my wife and I are to voyage across the Narrow Sea and start a new life on our own."

Daemon was the first to react. He downed his whole cup. Then it was a rush of brief, confused reactions. Alicent had settled back on her chair, gritting her teeth. Rhaenyra was speechless, watching Aemma's face guardedly. When she was presented with a favourable joy, she returned a little smile. Jace and Luke were intently eyeing their mother's response in disbelief. Aegon, somewhat proud of the iron balls on his little brother, sipped his glass silently. Helaena listlessly played with her spoon.

"Unexpected," the king sighed, almost pained.

"And what of yours and the princess' commitments to the realm?" Otto regarded, the most conscientious on his part.

Aemond was anything but contrite. "Find another second prince to finesse and another princess to breed."

"Aemond," Alicent cautioned. "That sort of talk is unfit for—"

"Our decision is final," he mentioned, loud enough to suppress his mother's voice. "The plans have been laid, pacts have been struck. My wife has but one condition—to seek her mother and His Grace's blessing on our safe travels."

The king gasped out, nodding through a tremor. "Aemma."

Aemma leaned toward him with an accepting bow of her head. "Grandsire."

"I see... no reason to restrict this decision. Does your mother, your future queen, agree to this?"

Aemma expectantly glanced at Rhaenyra whose expression remained unsullied. She had asked for so much from her mother, this seemed like a steep ask. To be apart from her for who knows how long. But her mother had promised her once to allow her to follow her heart and live as she pleased. She only hoped the princess remembered her oath.

"Prince Aemond," Rhaenyra called instead, flitting her prudent eyes to him. "This is all rather sudden. I have to ask: why the hurry?"

Aemond simply stared back. "I dislike idling."

"I can understand the haste in taking my daughter to wife. I will accredit it to the thrills of youth and passion. But this," she tapped her finger lightly on the table and tilted her head, "this seems like subterfuge. A dire one. Do you mean to stymie my heir's ascent to the throne under the veil of expedition?"

Jace made a scoffing noise out of his nose, smirking to himself. His mother had finally struck gold.

Aemond's jaw flexed. "'The basest of accusations."

"Still a conceivable one."

Aemma interfered, pressing down on the bridge of her nose, attempting to restrain an explosive headache. "Might I suggest we confer this in private? This is a festive gathering, certainly no place to—"

"No, Aemma. I must speak this for all to hear. They all question our precocity to accomplish this," Aemond said through his teeth then glanced back at her mother. "I swear this to you upon my devout esteem for your daughter. If she is ever to be installed as heir and the time of her reign arrives, I will ensure she acts in good conscience. I will stand with her, queen or not."

Rhaenyra's unblinking stare outmatched Aemond's, who had to look away to attend to Aemma's exclaim.

"You owe no explanations," Aemma said to Aemond, bewildered. Then she addressed the table, her tolerance slipping. "This is not a court session. There is no justice to be offered. All we ask is support. Support from our families, do you not understand?"

"You ask us to offer support in making yourself scarce from orders of the court?" Alicent finally spoke up, her tone adamant. "As prince and princess of the realm, your regiment is necessary to the throne. Abscond all you wish, your place remains here."

"Then we will abdicate," Aemond declared abruptly.

"Aemond, please," Aemma tried to calm him.

"Are you mad?" Rhaenyra hawked at him, grated to a passive growl. "Surrender my daughter's birthright!"

"Cease this insolence," Otto shouted at all of them.

His Grace bashed his staff to the ground to silence the table. "Again with the dissension! One night of..."

The sounds were tuned out, and Aemma rested an elbow on the table and stroked her forehead. The discomfort was almost unbearable now. Her stomach rolled and the world shifted beneath her.

She felt a cold hand on her cheek followed by Helaena's quiet voice. "Come. Let us leave now."

Aemma didn't even have the strength to nod or thank her. As she wobbled to her feet, with Helaena's hand secure around her forearm, in their periphery, Daemon and Aemond's chair dragged out in unison.

"Send for a maester," Aemond commanded first.

Daemon had halfway crossed the floor to Aemma. "Allow me."

"I'll take her," Helaena cautiously declared to all, her voice final. She repeated it to herself while their audience drew in a breath. "I'll take her."

X

It was Princess Helaena who forbade anyone from entering the princess' chambers that night and the day after, except for the maester with his concoctions and the servants with their timely meals. The timid princess proved to be as inflexible as her brother and Her Grace when need be. Even Princess Rhaenyra stepped aside to her orders.

No one heard or knew what occurred during those hours between the two princesses, but it was said to be the last moments of respite that they would share as the eldest daughters of two distraught bloodlines. There was a time when Princess Helaena's daughter, Jahaera, had joined them inside, hanging in the air as a sweet reminder of their childhood.

Prince Aemond, increasingly aggravated, patrolled his wife's doors to receive his sister the next night, ready to make an entrance inside. He would not have any more of this detachment.

Helaena placed a restrictive hand on his shoulder. "She needs to rest."

He desperately tried to see between the cracks in the heavy doors. "What is the meaning of this, sister? It has been a day. I'm being driven to the edge."

"It seems that it has been days since our Aemma has had a proper night's rest," she divulged, leading him across the door towards the balcony that opened into the sprawling floors of the Holdfast. "Everything has transpired so quickly. Unbeknownst to her, anxiety plagues her mind. I can share her worries a bit."

Aemond swallowed hard. "Of our journey?"

"No. Of that both of us are confident," Helaena murmured, her mind miles away. "It's her brothers. Caught in the crossfire. You know how that feels."

Immediate anger spiked in him. "Mad cunts," he hissed. "You'd think I've degraded their sister, the way they see it."

"Take yourselves and leave in peace," she said, preoccupied with her thoughts. She finally looked at him, her eyes beseeching. "Don't stop, no matter how much it entices you to stay. We have given this malice to more."

"Helaena." It was strange for him to say his sister's name, almost a gentle consolation. He knew of his sister's mind and her vulnerabilities in marriage. "You're the only family I'll be leaving behind."

She flashed him a smile. "Strangely, I believe that. There lies greatness ahead of you, little brother. And my life is here; in beasts and bone." She tilted her head to Aemma's door. "Go and see. Try not to wake her."

Her room reeked of the stables as he silently entered, so different from the tasteful lavender Aemond had come to crave, and surely enough, Seasmoke the direwolf was loyally relaxed at the foot of the bed. His sister must've brought him in secretly to put Aemma's mind at rest with an old companion. Aemond scratched the whining wolf's ears, who skipped off the carpet to rub at his waist for some praise. He had once been clueless about accepting attachment from a beast other than his dragon, but Seasmoke had grown on him.

"Good boy, Seasmoke. Sȳrī gaomagon," Aemond appreciated in a whisper. At least the beast had provided some semblance of comfort in his name. (Well done.)

"Demās, lykirī," he instructed. Seasmoke complied, perching back on his hind legs. (Sit, calm down.)

Seasmoke had become impressive, both in height, speed and strength. During their years in the Keep, Aemma and Aemond raised the wolf to be a loyal friend, their living toy of sorts. After Aemma departed and bestowed him to Aemond, he trained a vicious watchdog out of the animal, under the request of the Kingsguard, a fearsome hound that would stand for battle as a dragon. Now that Aemma had returned, Seasmoke must've regressed to what he had once been, what he truly was, just meant to comfort a lonely soul.

Behind them, Aemma slumbered calmly, hiding her eyes away from him. Merely some years ago he had laid beside her, on an evening like this, neither of them mortally wounded, vowing to write to each other every day, sharing a relentless embrace.

Tempted to her bare bedside, Aemond undid the buckles to his sword and dagger, and shed his overcoat and shoes, but hesitated with his eyepatch. He inhaled a shaky breath. This girl had persevered against her family for him, she had weathered a storm to wed him; a wayward eye wasn't going to send her screaming. He was determined when he skimmed it over his head and tucked the straps into his pocket.

He pushed the curtains aside and sank in next to her, mindful of her slumber. Aemma appeared just the same as when she was awake, implying that she lacked the deceit in her to conceal her emotions from everyone. What you see is what you get. Guileless, untamed, and real.

Unable to withhold himself, he entwined his fingers between hers, until he could feel their wedding scars unite once again, and brought it to his chest safely. He rolled onto his back and let his vision go black. Nothing weighed him down, held him back, or restricted him. It could've been moments or even hours, he had never felt such leisure. This was what awaited the rest of his life.

X

"So that is the infamous sapphire. Like Symeon Star-Eyes?" Aemma's velvety dulcet woke him.

He snapped his head toward a moonlit Aemma, who was fascinated and well-rested. She lay on her belly, silvery hair mussed from sleep, a pillow under her chest and arms while letting her hand rest with him. She looked like a painting, with the waving curtains behind her and the sky's reflection on her warm skin.

He stroked a finger from her cheek to her chin. "How's your head?"

"Intact," she jested.

"I see."

"Can you?"

He pinched her chin. "So much wit in such a little girl."

She giggled. "Not so little anymore, my friend."

He brought the back of her hand to his lips, hiding a softened grin. He'd forgotten he had written to her about the sapphire in his eye. It was absurd to think this bothered him now.

"You remembered my letter," he said, his voice thick from sleep.

"I remember every letter," she corrected. "My favourite stories of the warrior prince and his vicious dragon." She mimicked the soar of Vhagar's wings with a quiet 'whish'. "Soaring into the clouds. I used to read it and imagine myself instead. Quieted so many of my troubled nights."

He reached out to stroke a hand at her scar. "Because of this."

She dropped her head into the pillow to muffle a groan. "It ruins everything. As if bleeding every moon doesn't suffice, I've to experience an arrow through my head all the time."

He grunted his exertion to lean over and kissed her tousled hair. "You poor lamb."

She sourly jerked her hand out of his. He chuckled at this and pushed a few more kisses into her hair.

"Next moon, I'll have an antidote ready for your use."

She lifted her head, curious. "Since when do you dabble in potions?"

"No potions." He stroked her, all the way from her waist to her insteps. "Me."

She snorted. "What might you do? Vex me to distraction?"

"I have my secret ways."

Swayed by the surreal feel of her underneath him, he began to spread his kisses over the arc of her neck, the wing of her shoulder, down the lune of her spine, all while his sneaking fingers gathered up the soft linen of her nightgown to stroke her even softer thigh. Aemma twisted a little to witness him press a kiss at the dimple between her hips. Grinning, he sloped up to catch her in a kiss, taking her by surprise.

When he felt her thighs clench under his touch, he impatiently pulled away and flipped her on her back until she was all splayed out for him.

"It's about time I peeked at my stakes, hmm?" And then Aemma watched him bend between her legs for said stakes. 

"Aemond," she tried to mutter through the nervous lump in her throat.

"Ssh, my love. Trust in me."

His singular eye was deep-set, way too intense for words while the other glimmered dimly under the candle lights. So, unreadably intense. When she brushed a hand through his hair, he sank his teeth into the soft skin of her inner thigh and pulled. A slow moan came rumbling out of her.

His sinful motives started with his fingers climbing upwards on her thighs, lips following close behind. Her blasted nerves couldn't see him without turning every shade of red, but her audacity was gratefully more persuasive. 

She watched him through parted, gasping lips as he propped her knees on his shoulder, long fingers drawing back the hem of her nightdress until it was bunched around her abdomen. Obscene, she thought as he kissed her, right there, right through the material of her underwear, his tongue giving it a taste. A nice, long taste.

They locked eyes while he still tasted her slowly; delectably. Again, her own tongue went dead and her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

"Fuck," she dragged out a hiss. She palmed her mouth, shocked by the expletive.

Aemma could feel his whispering chuckle—right into her sex—and the sense that his forehead met the bed linen to muffle it.

She bit on her pointer finger, sheepish. "Sorry."

"No, please," he laughed deeply, "I enjoyed that."

Every part of her stiffened when she felt him nudge her again, her hands gripping at his hair. His plush hair, the strength of his nape, and then his flexing jaw. She didn't feel her underwear leaving her, but he was right there, within reach, his hands perching her knees in position. 

"Jaes," he murmured, "just beautiful. All this for me." (Gods.)

She raised her head once again to have a look and instantly wished she hadn't.

"I've dreamed of this..." he drew out in a reverie.

Aemond indulged, sucked, licked, and bit at her like a king on a feast. She moved his rumpled hair out of the way to see him there—slow, soft, loving thrusts into me and his single violet eye half-closed in heady bliss. Just tasting, savouring, remembering. And she felt it at her core, skin prickling up at the sensation. 

She clawed her hands up his hair, giving out the most pretentious cry for more. His hands went from wild to desperate; smoothing the inside of her thighs, sliding under her dress to caress her breasts, brushing up her neck. The noises he was making with his mouth on her; it was an explicit, incessant reminder of something tense. Something that would not stop edging.

She was about as close as 'fuck' is to a vulgarism when he pressured that immaculate, mind-blowing, soaked-up spot. So soft, so searing, so good. She inhaled an inhuman breath, toes flexing in the air as his suck-eat pulsations increased—and the slow climb was the best part. She knew she was coming up onto something wonderful.

She hoped he heard how soundly she was making love to his name for him. "Oh, please. Please, gods—"

She didn't get to finish that. His hand glided across her breasts, and her neck, and curled around it. She let her head hang back when he made the most luxurious sound she had ever heard him give out as he pushed two of his long fingers into her mouth. 

Impulsively, she circled his wrist—there was nothing more than she wanted to be filled. She wanted Aemond everywhere she could physically feel, even mentally if possible, and she made love to his fingers as best she could.

"So fucking good, Aemma," she heard his quiet, hot and heavy growl, muffled with a mouthful of her. "So good..."

The broad, rugged muscles on his shoulder put on a show for her under his shirt, crumpling and rippling, adding to his speeding-up tongue. Another hot flush of red charged up her body.

Then his tongue brought over fellow fingers, and they barely had work cut out for them. She was way too compressed and close to care, and she gave out a wordless cry as he pushed those long, thick fingers in at a speed she couldn't place a term on because that would be immoral. Deep, fast strokes and the size of his fingers were, she hoped, comparable to other parts of him. She sucked back a moan that bubbled to her lips. 

And that was the end-all, be-all. Aemond came onto his stakes, and Aemma went bursting apart. In the vigour of her world focalizing on that single spot between her legs, she crushed Aemond deeper into her, her fingers tight fists in his hair and her mouth agape in a choked scream. Behind her eyes, there were specks of little floating suns, a need to hold him even tighter, and the colours started to drain from around her. 

The first thing Aemma saw when radiance returned was the flushed, compelling, beaming, smiling face of the man who owned all of her. The upsurges of pure pleasure did not wane and she wallowed in it. She listened to him come up for air, kissing his way up again, rolling his tongue around her belly button, and momentarily intensifying her climax. 

"I've never seen someone look as enchanting as you did, moments ago," he whispered into her ear, burying his face into her neck.

She blinked, attempting to find the pace of her breathing. "That was..." she drawled with an unchecked hum.

"Not the end," he finished for her, rising on his knees. "Just a taste of what's to come."

Aemond was hypnotic, aglow and leering as he peeled off his shirt, wrists crossing at his abdomen. And it made every wicked something in her head want to come true. Her eyes gradually mapped down from his broad shoulders, her trembling fingers tracing at his rigid muscles, the jagged streaks of combat bruises, hungrily lapping up past his weathered, masculine strength, and the ultimate V muscle that was almost an arrow pointing straight to his...

He chuckled softly, catching her wandering hand. He stroked the base of her fingers, knuckles, and joints, conducting them with tiny lightning strikes.

"Always so curious."

She managed a mischievous smirk. "Then come here and indulge my curiosities."

"Gladly, dearest."

And his hands began to roam everywhere, as if stricken by her command. Strong, pinching, teasing, feeling, tracing, heading from north to south on her body. Resting his arms on either side of her head, grinning like the devil, his fingers slowly traced down her arms, that minute touch resonating in her sex.

"You amaze me," he murmured.

Despite all that teasing, she felt him. Her eyes snapped open to his, dark, wide and studying her. It was a simple bump, poising against her, tough and ready. He rested his forehead against hers.

He moved in; slowly, gently reverently. There was resistance, a whole lot from her, bringing forth a subdued, mellow pain. Since she had never done this before, she placed this as the pain of familiarizing—her body slowly climatizing to the feel. The feel of him, the weight of him, his wickedly strong muscles moulding against her. His energy was intense and unfathomable compared to her weak knees and lead tongue. 

"Aemma," he called to make sure.

Just then, she flexed harder around him. His light eyes blazed like reams of fire.

"Too afraid, are you?" she challenged.

"Never," he laughed under his breath.

It couldn't all be coincidences, with the timing and his body, because they were flawless. He was welcome as he pushed on further, gaining his fill of her. His face strained, forehead wrinkling, eyes briefly flickering shut. She took all the credit for making that happen. She accepted him gladly, adding a small inherent squeeze, and flashing her dark eyes at his. 

What should she be telling him? Could she ask him how he was feeling? If he was okay? Was she okay?

His grin was monumental. "You have taken me so well, my love."

She was utterly derailed. He felt so good. It was an inaccurate term to use—he was paradisiacal. She didn't think anyone could have felt this whole even with this age-old action. He was all hers at that moment. And if she were being honest, damnably honest, he was all up inside her. She could feel him inside, so deep, a space of her that she didn't think needed to be freed before.

His hips rolled into hers at a delicate speed, laboured and painstaking. All the evidence of teasing disappeared, jaw taut with tension.

"Breathe through it, Aemma. I'm here," he guided softly.

She gulped, unable to answer. Truly, she didn't have enough air to make one. To be fair, she was stretched to capacity. She couldn't take the weight of him. Flickers of white light appeared in her vision and it wasn't until his face started to blear that she realized she wasn't breathing. She breathed noticeably louder, splitting the beautiful, magical stillness between them, trying to exhale while enduring the stings around her ribs.

"Aemma?" he asked, slightly panicked now.

So when his unease swivelled to hazy apprehension, she choked out and gripped his arms closer—"Wait, stay with me. I can do it."

He stroked a thumb at the edge of her eyes, kissing the slant of her nose. "Ssh, I'm here. Whenever you are ready. We've got the rest of our lives."

She whispered an eager plea, "I want you. I want it all."

Their eyes held for a glorious moment and engraved an intrigue between the lines as their breaths fused in the intensifying silence. Neither of them backed down, never repressing and taking it all. He was still very much inside, growing harder with every passing moment. 

She was buzzing alive, practically convulsing, as his pressures gradually climbed in speed, still so soft and careful.

Which drew a languid, roguish smile alive on his handsome, sweat-matted face. He lifted a quizzical eyebrow, moving his hips in, in, in. Circle, push, circle, push—a giddying pattern that had her reeling off the wire. 

His vast hands were around her throat, establishing dominance, guiding himself entirely into her, tongue plunging forward for a breathy kiss. Her fingers and nails ploughed into his back, nearly drawing blood, when he did. He didn't even flinch or care, bearing it all.

He pulled away from that hungry kiss, hips rolling into a more punishing, daunting rhythm—and oh. She couldn't think. He was pushing her higher and higher until she felt little sparks start to explode from the tips of her fingers, elbows and toes. But, the feeling was only getting louder. His groans were so low, so dark in her ear. 

"There's my sweet girl," he whispered silkily, hitching her knee around his hip. "You want me?"

She nodded desperately. "Yes."

"You have me. You always have," he promised.

Her gasps were timed to his moves, thrusts gaining sweet, beautiful friction. Her fingers twisted into his hair, seeking an outlet for his beautiful, unbearable pleasure. It was building, getting close to that sensation again, oh so close...

She relaxed her stiff spine, sinking into the mattress and feeling him ram right into that spot. She bit her lip to contain a ridiculously high-pitched noise, willing her eyes open into his, burning like onyx flares in the violet night.

He glanced up, eager. Ready. Prepared. His arms curled as if attempting physical exercise, resting beside her head. When a soft wheeze left her, his lips were at her ear, reassuring her, relaxing her tense muscles. His head ducked again, almost inspecting them. 

"C'mere. I have you now," he breathed out. "Eyes on me, alright? Only me."

Awestruck, excited, a bundle of nerves, she watched him. 

Powerful thighs bearing hers, Aemond pressed her hips back until she was gently propped up on the pillows, hungrily attending to his all-consuming flow and determined muscles covered in sweat. She was completely restricted now, not needing to slake her appetite, because, as he had said, he had her. He sank and sank, again and again, abdomen crunching with his power, unearthing, slamming, her sweet spot tingling, and just like that, she came apart.

All white shots of lights, ringing noises, toes curled and pointing, and his name a clement prayer on her lips. Until her black-and-white world fled back into colour, he began to move again.

He kissed a tear away from her temple before his watchful gaze began to hunt hers—for hope? Promise? Something worth it? She simply stared back, mouth twisting in sweet agony as he continued his now quickened pressures. Her name was all he could breathe or think. With every muscled laboured, thrusts more unyielding, face rigid, power intense, eyes hazed over—Aemond came. Firm and heavy, falling limp over her. 

They fell back together, utterly spent, wrung out, exhausted and essentially immortalized. Whatever the true definition for that held. Between the film of fierce pleasure and indulgence, she decided that had a hold upon heaven. Tremendous, dark heaven.

Two big, lavish, beautiful, majestic climaxes and they basked in the afterglow together. She turned her head to clutch him at his neck, grab him forward to kiss his lips sweetly. Delicately, quietly, more and more, until her breathing steadied.

Aemond stroked her nose against hers, all sated by sex. "Pleasure becomes you, my love."

Aemma sighed dreamily, tracing the hollow of his cheek. "You've made your astounding mark on me. Can we go again?"

He pulled back to stare, dumbstruck. He didn't see a trace of humour in her eyes.

"You could take the bed this time," she offered.

He scoffed in disbelief. "Amazing. I applaud your energy, dearest wife. Have you ever swung a sword before? I could do with a new sparring partner with that sort of verve."

She laughed. "You could never best me if I were your partner. I'd have you on your back in an instant."

"You have me on my back right now, darling. Rode you half to death, did I not?"

He grunted a chuckle when she playfully smacked his chest.

Aemond continued to mumble. "In all honesty, I truly did not think I would survive this with you. I expected my heart to give out because of... hmm." He rubbed at her waist, his voice still thick with desire. "These legs, these eyes, these lips, those lips—Seven hells, this is my fantasy fulfilled."

She put a hand over her face to hide a blush. "You can simply get away with saying things like that?"

When he flashed her a smirk, she shook her head dubiously and tried to close his evading mouth with her hand.

"Just as you can simply get away—with requesting to use my cock—as your—let me speak!—your toy?"

"Aemond!" she hissed.

He laughed. "Ssh. Lay closer."

He pulled her into the curve of his arm, curbing her chagrin. Aemma sank her chin into his shoulder to watch him shut his lone eye and become at ease.

He felt her fingertips glide near the blemishes in his eye socket. Her cold fingers upon the hot skin, it was paradise. He tried hard to stay still when she got too close to inflammation that continued to cause agony on certain days. She must've sensed something amiss because abruptly her touch disappeared.

"Would it make you feel less lonesome if I took my eye out for you?" she asked, tongue in cheek.

A side of his lips lifted. "Perhaps. Make it my wedding favour."

She gasped, laughing. "You brute. You like that?"

"I wouldn't dare," he calmed her, drawing her closer to him. "Then again I can make even with your brother's."

He expected her to sense the sincerity in his voice, but such was Aemma's perspective of him. The conciliant, faithful friend who respected her. He worked hard to seal up that vengeance in front of her. What doesn't concern her will not break her. Not while he lives and breathes.

True to herself, Aemma let it slide harmlessly, treating it as good fun. He heard her laugh. "Can you imagine—little Luke, running about with an eyepatch?"

He barely broke a smile. "You'll never know."

X

read part vi here!

seasmoke the direwolf, watching this go down like: mom? dad? wtf are you guys up to 👁️👄👁️

I hope you all felt their love as much as I did <3

[certainty2witch]

For Crocodad theory, imagine if the way everyone finds out isn't either of them admitting it. It's Sengoku being mad after the events of Marineford and deciding to hand over declassified info on the revolutionary army, collected by Cypher Pole, which proves that Crocodile is Luffy's birth parent, to Big News Morgan. Imagine everyone has just started their two years of training when they pick up the daily newspaper and right on the cover is confirmation that Crocodile is Luffy's parent.

Since you mentioned the revolutionary army, I suppose you’re talking about my revolutionary crocodile au, even if you talked about Marineford.

And i take some time for adding a bit of lore for my au because is important:

(Answer for anon’s ask after the ‼️‼️‼️)

Crocodile was never evil and with so he never did something wrong in Alabasta. But, he’s still a warlord, and a fake pirate, because he’s a revolutionary undercover.

But let’s say that the marines discovered Crocodile is a revolutionary and that’s a way for putting him in impel down?

Iva obliviously, since is there too, save him and bring him at level 5.5, they both wait for the right moment for escaping (imagine Croc being uncomfortable around all that extravagant people, he doesn’t like loud people, and Iva likes to torment him because they think Croc miss Dragon and Croc says he doesn’t.

Is the truth btw he just wanna run into Dragon’s arms and kissing him).

And with so, Impel down arc happens, but Croc is always with Iva instead of being locked at level 6. His reaction to his son almost dead is pretty devastating, just imagine that… I mentioned in a recent post that they have a deep and special bond when Luffy was little. With older Luffy this keep existing!

So Marineford is pretty the same with Doflamingo bothering him (lmao, sorry babe your love is busy with the world’s worst criminal, he’s not a single man), with him protecting Ace (this time for Luffy and only for him💕) and other canon stuff.

And he suffers seeing his son losing his sense after his brother’s death. He obliviously protect him and Jinbe from Akainu (in every au he always saves him in that scene *sigh* good daddy).

So after Marineford he and Luffy separate, and he finally reunite with Dragon.

‼️‼️‼️

And now about the ask.

But first i add little warning.

Cw //mention of gender dysphoria!

Somehow Sengoku knows and decides to reveal everything (my god you should just close that trap sometimes, stupid marine) I honestly can’t imagine why he would know something like that, maybe due to Garp? (Close that trap too!!) because yep Garp knows Croc is trans and Luffy’s other dad.

Crocodile never liked the idea of people knowing his secret: him being Luffy’s other parent. He knows in that world people like him are seeing in a bad way and if others will discover he isn’t cis, my god I’m sure people will keep misgendering him… and he would hate that. I imagine his past full of transphobic people, keep using wrong pronouns with him and forcing him to just be like “Mother Nature made him”… you know useless things like this. So well he grow up frustrated and angry, Iva was his light, the revolutionary army were his light. Even after hrt, Crocodile felt the oppression of not being cis (mostly when he got pregnant of Luffy). But in this Au, he with the support of others started to feeling more and more comfortable just being himself. He’s not cis? Who cares!

But if people will discover he is Luffy’s dad too and with so, the father that gave birth to him, i like to imagine him asking his friends (and love) some support. He is more comfortable being trans, but something like that is hard to handle anyway, because nobody asked for his consent! If that was his secret, and he wanted to keep that hidden, well there’s a reason.

I hope I explained everything at least in a decent way, feel free to ask for some more if you are curious or to ask something else in the ask box.

And correct me or tell me to change something, if you think is inappropriate please.

For a dear anon that i still didn’t answer, if you are seeing this, just know that your idea inspired me. I will draw what you said, because I know what to draw hehe but i need time because i have other art first 🙏🏻

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Thirteen

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Authors Note: I'm sorry it took so long!! I really struggled to write this part ngl, but once it came I just went with it:) lots of emotions this time around, AS WELL AS some healthy pining in store! So we're finally getting somewhere, finally. Anyway, thanks to @procrastinatinglikeapro for the idea surrounding Mouse's gift to Matty- was struggling with that whole concept but we're going w it now! Hopefully you enjoy, thanks for all the love on this series too, means a whole lot xx

> Just a reminder! We left the last update with a surprise knock at the door:) You can look back here if you'd like, or just read the last little snippet below!

Masterlist

Watching them was all too lovely as well. For someone with such a cool front, Matty seemed to melt around Teddy, succumbing to that of the boy’s charm and easy going nature. It was sweet to see, surprising, but endlessly sweet. Had me losing track of time, in truth. Which is why I jumped and cursed the way I did when the door finally knocked. 

“Mémé!”

...

“Mimi?” Matty murmured to himself as he followed the instruction Mouse had left him with, clearing away the wrapping paper Teddy had so carelessly tossed about the room earlier in his excitement and settling the little guitar up onto the sofa.

His eyes lingered on the wooden instrument for a short second, recalling the moment when he’d first spotted it. He hadn’t thought much about what he’d been doing when he’d walked on by the shop window only to then find himself stumbling inside, spending God knows what on a little boy he’d only really met just the once. He couldn’t bring himself to regret it though, even with how nervous he’d been for Teddy’s reaction.

Speaking of Teddy though, the little boy had practically charged the front door the second it had rang a few minutes ago, jumping up and down and tugging at the handle in his obvious excitement, whilst the woman sitting opposite them had frozen completely in her seat, like a soldier experiencing shellshock.

Matty thought they’d been having a good time overall, a brilliant time even! But then the doorbell had sounded and all of her smiles and her carefree laughter had been drenched in water, washed away as soon as she had stood up to answer the knock.

“Mé. Mé.” Came a drawn out voice behind him then, obviously having heard Matty’s shoddy attempt at it and deciding to sound the word out for him.

Matty spun around on his heel to catch sight of the toddler hanging off of the living room door. The kid was like their very own little monkey, always swinging off of something. Matty raised a brow at the correction he’d been given. “Me-me?” He tried again, beyond perplexed and wondering what the fuck everyone was going on about.

Teddy giggled happily at him and then shook his head, curls flying with it, Matty briefly questioned where Squeaks had gotten to.

“Mémé.” The boy sounded it out for him again and this time Matty caught the different accent that had filtered in, it was so prominent when the boy spoke that one word.

Matty’s forehead creased. “Mémé?” At Teddy’s buoyant nod, he grinned at having finally grasped it, “And just who might that be, mate?”

Teddy glanced over his shoulder before he pushed off of the door, letting it swing slightly as he hurried his little feet over to where Matty was currently standing, bin bag in hand. The latter dropped it though to take a seat on the settee, hoisting the little man up onto his knee.

One thing Matty had quickly learned in his short time of knowing the kid, was that Teddy was clingy. Not that that was a bad thing, Matty knew he could be just as bad some days. If not worse. But having someone seek that sort of comfort from him, out of all people, in such an intimate way made him feel necessary, as though he served a real purpose.

“Go on, let me in on the secret then.” Matty prodded, jerking his chin out ever so slightly to nudge Teddy's shoulder. He relished in the soft giggles it earned him.

“Mémé’s my Mémé!”

“Oh! Well, that makes so much sense, don’t it?” Matty remarked in return, rolling his eyes fondly at the unhelpful reply before he tickled the boy’s sides, “Don’t it?”

“Stop, Matty! I tolds you, I tolds you!” Teddy squealed, laughing so hard that he nearly slipped right on out from under Matty’s hold, but the singer propped him back up all too easily.

“You didn’t.” Matty grinned, having relented on his attack of the toddler, settling Teddy more comfortably into his side. He enjoyed having someone smile back at him with no other intention than just the simplicity of enjoying his presence, with kids there was never any ulterior motives. “Where’s your mum anyway, huh?”

“Right here.”

Matty’s head shot up to find Mouse now standing in the doorway wearing a strained sort of smile, a single suitcase behind her and then, “Oh.”

“Mémé!” Teddy pointed, dragging his eyes back up to meet Matty’s weary and startled face as he bounced excitedly.

Of course ‘Mémé’ would've had to have been Squeaks’s mum, because who else could it have possibly been? Who else would have such impeccable timing?

He was fucked. And Matty knew it.

Mouse must've seen the realisation that hit him too, because she used the moment to try and disguise the utter horror dawning on Matty’s face by clapping her hands and promptly glancing back at her mum from over her shoulder. “Mam! This is Matty. Matty,” She turned back to him, thankful to find that he’d sort of wised up to the situation they’d been shafted with and shut his gaping gob, “Matty this is my mum, Anaïs.”

Matty tried extremely hard to commit the pronunciation to memory, which proved to be a little bit easier when the toddler hanging off his hip started parroting it over and over again.

“Eh, excusez-moi! It is Mémé to you, mon chéri.” The woman answered Teddy with a soft sort of smile as Squeaks stepped aside to let her mother further in, aged eyes honed in on her giggling grandson.

Matty took the moment to admire the older woman, focusing on all the things her daughter had obviously inherited, the way she held herself, and the strength of her gaze when it finally landed on him. He swallowed thickly. 

“And you are Matty?” Matty nodded at her, not really feeling the way Teddy was now tugging on his fingers whilst the woman stepped even closer, gracing her daughter with a quick look that Matty couldn’t quite make out. “Ah.” She breathed before she finally smiled at him, a small thing, so different to the one he’d previously seen when she’d been teasing Teddy. “Ana is fine really, it seems you people always have a difficult time with it.”

There was humour there but Matty didn’t want to brush her name aside just for the sake of struggling, he’d get there in the end, he was sure of it. Just like how he’d gotten through a setlist full of songs edited by George, replacing most words with- well, probably best not to think of those two very separate things in the same context.

Matty struggled to control his sudden urge to grimace.

“Anaïs?” He stumbled slightly but then tried again with an apologetic smile and dipped brows, “Anaïs.”

“Mémé!” Teddy cut in with a uninformative correction, reaching upwards to poke at Matty’s slightly stubbled cheek. He was in need of a quick shave but seeing as he’d be heading up north for the holidays he’d foregone it, knowing his mum preferred him clean shaven. ‘Makes you look so much healthier, Matthew!’

The man glanced down, a thoughtless chuckle skipping out of his mouth like a rock over a lake as he shook his head closer to the boy’s own, letting his curls tickle Teddy’s tiny face. “Matty!” He laughed again, squirming before he too was shaking his hair in retaliation. 

Matty couldn’t quite help his beaming smile when he looked back up at the woman, who seemed very content with just watching the pair of them. His eyes trailed over her shoulder briefly to spot the way that Squeaks was currently chewing on her lower lip, silently fretting.

“Sorry, I’ll get it soon enough.” He told Anaïs with as much genuinity as he could muster up, oddly wanting to keep the woman on side. “It is lovely to meet you though, Anaïs.” She smiled in turn at the use of her name, even with Matty’s slight wince, and then dipped her chin at him. “I didn’t realise I’d be stepping on any toes dropping by.”

“Non, you are fine.” She assured him with a slight shake of her head, waving his apology right off, “My flight was delayed. I was worried I’d be keeping them waiting, so you did me a favour.”

Matty physically felt his shoulders sag with sudden relief at the woman’s words, glad to note that he hadn’t fucked much up by stopping in without a warning. Although, he tapped Teddy’s leg softly then to get him moving, “Don’t you wanna go say hello then, monster? I’d best be off now.”

Teddy’s eyes widened at that last bit and Matty was sure he’d never seen anyone move so fast. “No!” The boy exclaimed, wrapping his chubby little arms around Matty’s neck and holding fast.

Matty’s eyes widened just as he adjusted his grip better around the kid, beyond perplexed by the sudden change. “God, little man! Tryna take me out here?” He chuckled as best he could, voice a tad bit strained by the surprisingly strong hold Teddy had on his neck.

“Teds!” Matty heard Squeaks gasp out quickly, before she was already rounding her mother in a hasty beeline to help. “You can’t just-”

She huffed when Teddy only tightened his grip and Matty couldn’t help the other chuckle that slipped out.

“Teddy.”

“It’s fine, honest.” Matty assured her, a hand splayed on the toddler’s back whilst he stared over at Mouse’s oddly harassed expression. “Teddy, mate. I’ve got to head out now, but I reckon I can promise you a visit soon though. If your mum doesn't mind much.”

The pair of them shared a look then, but Teddy didn’t take to the ruse.

Matty pursed his lips to keep his growing grin at bay, knowing it wouldn’t earn him any points with Mouse, and then moved at an angle in an attempt to see the little boy’s face that was still hidden away in the curve of his shoulder.

“Teds, look. We can make a plan, yeah? ‘Cause I proper enjoyed that last little outing we had the other day- you know, the way you went down that slide at the park was crazy! “ Matty peered in closer and smiled at the sight of a blinking eye. “Or maybe you can come ‘round mine. I’ve got lots of guitars there, reckon we could mess about with them and annoy your mum until she goes mad.”

That had Teddy pulling further away, but only by a fraction. Matty noted the way not just Squeaks, but Anaïs too, was watching him now.

“Play ‘tars?”

Teddy’s small voice snapped him out of the apprehensive feeling that had started to coil. He blinked down at the kid, “Yeah, if you want. We can do whatever, yeah? Zoo, the park-” Matty sort of frowned then and glanced back up towards where Squeaks was now crouched before them, “What else do kids like to do?”

His whispered ask was rewarded with a breathy chuckle that lit up the girl's entire face and had her giggling away to herself even as her son squirmed excitedly in Matty’s hold.

“Zoo?” Teddy questioned him with big pleading eyes, “With the ‘guins? And the tigers?”

Matty felt his face pinch, “‘Guins?”

“The cold birdies, Matty! ‘Dem ones.”

Ah.

“Yeah, ‘course the penguins will be there!” Matty nodded resolutely, then turned back to Mouse, “London Zoo has penguins right?”

She snorted unhelpfully but Teddy paid their conversation no mind at all, apparently far too excited with the sudden prospect of an adventure to the Zoo. Looking at his face, Matty knew he’d have to find a way to make it happen.

“Right, we all settled then?” He asked the toddler, raising an eyebrow down at the tyke, suddenly wondering how he’d gone from pleasing a crowd full of fans to bargaining with a four year old. How his mum had ever managed to cope with the likes of him at this age was maddening.

Teddy looked up at him then with eyes squinted from the strength of his smile, he took a long second to deliberate the whole ‘letting go thing’ and then finally released Matty from his chokehold. 

“Cheers, monster.” Matty laughed softly, ruffling the kid’s curls before passing him off over into Mouse’s awaiting arms. 

“Hear, mum! Hear Matty?” Teddy quizzed her immediately, bouncing on her hip as she stood.

“I heard, love.” Squeaks chuckled softly before she turned to flash a smile in Matty’s direction, both apologetic and grateful. “You wanna say thanks to Matty for your present before he goes?”

“Ta!”

A bright laugh burst from Matty at that, but he shook his head and then forced himself back onto his feet, reaching out to tickle the little boy’s leg. “Welcome, mate.” 

And just like that Teddy was squirming to get down and go see his grandmother who appeared to have watched the whole scene play out from the sidelines.

Matty dimmed his grin into a smaller smile and let his eyes linger on the girl beside him, on the love she obviously had for her son and mother both. He wondered briefly what having that much love might feel like.

“I cleared up, by the way.” He mentioned quietly now that he was watching Teddy too, leaning into Squeaks’s side a little. “Figured it was only right, seeing as I’d been the cause and all that.”

She tittered lightly to herself, then pivoted to face him. “I appreciate it, all of it.”

It was obvious she wasn’t just talking about the clean up.

“No worries.” Matty shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling suddenly self-conscious, which wasn’t new but was also not appreciated. “I’d better be off, though, got a long drive and all that.”

Her brows rose ever so slightly before she nodded, as though she’d only just remembered he was meant to be on his way. “Yeah, yeah right. I’ll walk you out.”

Matty smiled, then turned back to the remaining two. “Monster! I’ll be seeing you! Be good and keep practising those chords for me, alright? I’ll be checkin' in.”

Teddy nodded buoyantly from where he had dragged his grandmother over to the sofa to view his gifted guitar, “Bye, Matty. See soon!”

Kid was a right little charmer.

Matty grinned back at him before allowing his eyes to meet Anaïs's own. “It was lovely meeting you, have a Merry Christmas.”

Anaïs granted him with a soft smile, one that Matty had only ever really seen mimicked by his own mum. “It was. Joyeux Noël, Matty.”

He nodded quietly to himself, the French infiltrating his mind. By the time both he and Mouse had made it back out into the hallway, the living room door now closed behind them, Matty allowed himself to voice his sudden thoughts, “You never said you were French.”

Squeaks quirked a brow at him in return, already pulling his coat off the hook and handing it over to him. Matty slowly shucked it on.

“Half.” She informed, watching him now from her place by the bannister, “And there’s a lot you don’t know about me yet, Healy.”

It was teasing but Matty knew that truth rather intimately, Mouse was a maze of secrets. Her name, her son, her origin. He wondered over what else she had kept so carefully hidden, but bit his tongue when he thought to ask. Yet, she had said. Matty could deal with a ‘yet’.

“Seems so.” He hummed sarkily, although he was smiling again. He always seemed to be smiling nowadays. Then he went to double check he had everything in his pockets only to realise that his jacket still homed one last gift. “Shit.” He muttered under his breath.

Mouse’s brow dipped, “What?”

A surge of anticipation surged through him at that question, what indeed. What the fuck had he been thinking, more like.

He’d gifted presents to women before, friends, girlfriends, staff at gigs. But this one left him feeling all weird. The type of weird that you often felt getting caught with a girl at school, or mentioning a silly crush to one of your mates on the playground. 

His eyes flickered up to meet hers in the dimly lit hallway, fingers dancing over the envelope he had tucked away. 

“Matty?”

Matty forced up that familiar bravado of his and stepped on closer, plucking the present from the confines of his coat as if he hadn't actually had a second thought about it, and then held it out towards her with a sly grin.

“Realised I couldn’t come bearing just one gift.” He told her, widening his eyes and prodding the envelope closer so that she’d finally get the hint and take it. Her fingers grasped it carefully, like she was wary he’d snatch it back.

Then her warm eyes met his own again, “Matty.”

He didn’t think he would ever get used to the sound of her saying his name. No matter how she said it.

Matty straightened at it though, already knowing she’d try to give it on back before even opening the thing, and waved her on, “Go on, it’s right rude to deny a present, you know?”

That spurred a soft laugh out of her, ever entertained by his absurdity. But before he could cajole her a little more, her face was lighting up with a sudden realisation, “Hang on a sec.” She said to him and then darted back down the hallway, leaving Matty blinking in her wake.

It didn’t take her all that long to return, though the suspense she’d left him with had now jumped to new heights.

“Sorry,” Squeaks smiled sheepishly, the envelope still in her hand, only weighed out now by the small bag she held in the other, “Forgot this.”

Matty was back to blinking again, startled by the fact that she had thought to get him something at all, let alone in return. “Um,” He murmured, rendered dumbstruck, before her light laughter broke him free. “If there’s something dirty in there, I will be telling your mother.”

Her eyes narrowed but her lips curved, “If you can make it to her in time.”

“Ooh sending out threats now, are we?”

That smile of hers was both devious and full of amusement, “Always.” Then she pushed the bag towards his chest, “Go on, open it.”

Matty shook his head, though he still accepted the Christmas patterned bag full of red tissue paper. “I gave you mine first, so I can’t open this ‘til you open yours.” He shook the bag to further accentuate his point.

“That's how it works, is it?” Squeaks commented, eyes creasing in her mirth, but Matty was as stubborn as they came and met her stare head on. “Fine,” She relented with a gentler smile, as though she already knew she wouldn’t win this particular battle, and moved to hold the envelope between them, thumbing the seal. “But this better be something nice, Matty. If it’s stupid I will toss you out.”

He laughed at the fact that they were already standing by the door, “Already are, sweetheart. But nah, you’re alright. Just hoping you’ll like it.” 

Those eyes of hers flickered between his own again, left, right, then like ripping off a plaster she opened the envelope within a blink. As she grasped at the pages tucked within, Matty felt his resolve crumble somewhat, vaguely embarrassed by the many emotions he currently felt warring within him and the fact that he couldn’t wage how Mouse might react.

But all those thoughts and feelings were immediately sidelined when he heard her gasp, this breathy little thing that echoed in the small space between them and had Matty’s mind reeling.

“Matty.”

He reckoned that if he could get away with asking her to only say his name again, exactly like that, he’d record it and give it its own side on their next album. Fuck anyone who’d argue otherwise.

Her expression was one Matty had never witnessed on Mouse before. He’d seen her surprised (that day he’d turned up out of the blue at the studio), seen her happy (messing about with Teddy on Facetime, listening to the boy ramble and rant), he’d seen her awkward and stressed (at that charity event where he’d been all but glued to her side), and he’d also seen her tired (when those late night calls of theirs had ended with bleary eyes and sweet smiles).

Matty swallowed at the heavy feeling he felt corrode his chest.

“I can’t take these, Matty.” She argued, all but pulling him back to the present when she tried to hand the gift back to him.

He swatted her arm away, shaking his head with a tiny smile. “You can take them. What the fuck am I gonna do with 'em otherwise?”

She rolled her eyes but let his hand linger on the back of her own. “It’s way too much. I mean, how did you even manage it, how’d you even know?”

Matty laughed at that, “You’re really asking how I knew? Squeaks, babe, you bring him up almost every time we talk, you sing his songs when you’re cooking on call, and you never fail to mention him on your show. Even Teddy pipes up when he’s playing on the radio!”

Mouse had the nerve to look abashed at that. “It’s still too much.”

“Of course it’s too much. But I am, if anything, extreme.” Matty snipped back, smirking.

“But it’s Billy Joel, Matty! You can’t just buy a girl tickets to go and see Billy Joel!” Squeaks immediately argued back, though Matty noticed the way her eyes shone whenever she looked down at the tickets and how her fingers toyed with the paper ever so carefully.

“You’re right,” He agreed again, surprising her, “Good thing I got you two then.”

She gave him a huffy sigh in retort, one that had him grinning. “Matty.”

“Mouse.”

Her nose scrunched then, at the use of her name or the way he'd parroted, Matty couldn’t tell. “How am I meant to compete with tickets like these?”

Matty rolled his eyes at the stupidity of that question, “You don’t, I didn’t just give you them thinking I’d get something in return, Squeaks. I want you to have them.”

He was met with a drawn out silence then, her stare drifting back and forth between the tickets, himself and then back again. “Thank you.” She finally said, looking up at him with a wonder in her eyes that made Matty question whether she’d ever just been given anything for the sake of it.

“You’re welcome, love.” The smile he wore grew when she looped her arms around his waist to pull him into a hug. 

Hugs were a rare thing with Mouse, Matty had noted, unless you were four and had a mop-full of curls then you’d best not even think about offering her one. Though he had that last bit down tap, they didn't really do that sort of thing past a greeting.

Still, hugging her settled something within him, something he couldn’t quite comprehend but allowed to wander all the same.

She squeezed his middle once before they parted again and Matty did his best to ignore the slight sheen her eyes now held and the way she slyly wiped at her nose. “Really, Matty. It means so much.”

Matty felt his heart stutter at the tender look she wore, then smiled. “Just make sure you send me the odd video, alright? Or at least a pic of you all dressed up.”

She laughed when he winked but he didn’t let it deter him. He wasn’t a constant listener of Old Joe but a classic was a classic, and the man was exactly that.

“Won’t need to.” Squeaks told him firmly and when he raised a brow she grinned hopefully, “You’ll be coming with, won’t you?”

Of all reactions, it was baffling to Matty that he had not expected that.

“Me?” He asked her, needing her to clarify.

“I don’t see no one else standing here.” She snorted, but her grin dampened all too quickly at the expression that must’ve been plastered on his face. “You don’t have to, I know you’re busy and got stuff going. Just thought…”

She finished that with a needless shrug which had Matty reaching out, hand cupping her right cheek, fingers slipping gently into her hair, it was soft. “‘Course I’ll come. Nothing could stop me.”

Her eyes had widened momentarily at the unexpected touch, Matty was quick to notice, but couldn’t bring himself to pull away just yet, especially when her face softened and she leaned ever so slightly into his hold.

–

‘Course I’ll come. Nothing could stop me.

Those words played on a loop in my head for the rest of the day, taking me through into the late evening where I was currently stood in the kitchen making another round of tea. Chamomile for mam, green for me.

The words were a promise I couldn’t quite find myself believing.

Too many people had promised me things; promised to keep my secrets, promised to keep me safe, promised to be there, promised to come. But only a fair few had ever followed through.

Matty was an anomaly though.

In himself, and in everything he said and did.

It always left me thinking, wondering...

It was just as I was stirring the honey into the mug that wasn't mine that I startled at the soft brush I felt beside me.

“I was just coming.” I attempted to say, glancing over at my mum who now stood beside me at the counter, gazing out the tiny kitchen window.

She waved me off with a tender smile, taking over honey duty as she slid her cup closer. “Your mind has been elsewhere today.” She accused me and immediately I felt my hackles rise, ready to jump into defence mode, but she merely casted me a careless look. “You never mentioned this Matty before.”

The change of subject threw me, enough that I frowned and was quiet until she wandered on over to take perch at the table with both our drinks. I blinked, feeling the fight drain out of me, then followed after her.

The chair scraped against the tiles as I pulled it free and I cringed at the silence that followed, hoping it hadn’t stirred Teddy who had not long fallen asleep down the hall.

When the quiet remained, I finally took my seat, wrapping my fingers around the warm mug and pulling it in nearer. “I didn’t think to.” I told her, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue. I was quick to drown it in tea.

My mum merely hummed, sipping elegantly at her chamomile. “He seems comfortable here. Teddy likes him too.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. Thinking about earlier, the present Matty had gifted me, the one I’d given him in turn.

I could still feel the press of his hand against my cheek. So gentle, I’d almost wanted to break.

“They met about a week ago, an accident really.”

She hummed again, staring off ahead, and so I picked up my mug to keep myself from talking any more.

It had felt wrong, not getting Matty a present, which seemed so strange considering the circumstances. On how we’d only known each other a few short months. But I still couldn’t find it in me to ignore the feeling.

I could recall his face when he’d finally pulled away to peer into the gift bag I’d handed him, he’d been chewing on lip trying to dampen the sincerity of his smile...

Wary and still reeling off of the tender moment we’d just shared, I fidgeted with the envelope I held in my hand. It looked to be black but in the light it shone blue. It felt expensive, though I could see the way it had been fidgeted with, or held, like someone had kept picking it up only to put it down again.

Matty opened the bag with the same fragility I’d shown his envelope, rustling the tissue paper inside without much fanfare.

When he pulled the woolly item out from inside I felt all too stupid. What were his concert tickets to see one of my favourite musicians compared to a simple hat? I fretted.

I fish mouthed for a brief moment when his fingers swiped over the soft material, before my eyes finally darted up to meet his honeyed brown. 

“You got cold, that time we took you to the park. Teddy said it would be good for the next time we go.” I stumbled slightly, it wasn’t the whole truth, no. But I wouldn’t dare mention the hours I’d spent searching for the right one, none of them feeling anything like ‘Matty’ until I’d seen this redcurrant coloured beanie.

He stared down at the gift for a long second, leaving me to wallow in my pitiful gift and the hastily given thought behind it, before he smiled. It was kind and it was genuine and it had the air fleeing from my lungs.

“Well, I’ll wear it and think of you both.” Matty murmured breathily, his voice catching ever so slightly on that last word. I swallowed thickly and without thinking took his hand in mine.

He looked down at the joined pair and smiled, but our quiet moment was then interrupted by rather loud strumming that echoed out.

Shocked, we both jumped a tad at the sound but then laughed, listening to Teddy call for his Mémé to watch him play.

I went to let go and Matty almost let me before he lightly tugged my hand closer, pressing the woolly hat into my palm. “Put it on for me?”

Blinking, I grasped the beanie tighter and watched as his hand fell away. I nodded when I glanced back up at him, his eyes watching me closely, then stepped forward, fumbling to carefully place my envelope in the back pocket of my jeans before fixing the hat over the top of his dark unruly curls.

Having to tiptoe, I let my thumb skim the brim of it, just above the skin of his brow, so that I could fix it a tad. Then peered into his warm eyes once more, “There you go.”

Matty smiled, and oh did I love seeing him smile.

We didn’t speak as he roped me into another hug, arms latching around one another's middles. We didn’t share many of those but somehow they always felt right, and then when he stepped away I felt the faint graze of his lips against my cheek.

His fingers were catching the latch on the front door before I could even react, his smile still there, his eyes now shining with some sort of emotion I couldn’t place.

“Merry Christmas, Squeaks.”

I came back to then, at the feel of my mother’s hand cradling mine atop the kitchen table, my head turned to search her tender stare. “Glowing, ma chérie.” She reminded me and oddly, I felt caught.

“Maman.” I whispered, looking away, but all she did was gently pat the back of my hand before pulling back.

“Petit à petit, l'oiseau fait son nid.” Was all that she said, throwing me back to days spent when I’d only been a little girl curled up in her lap.

Little by little, the bird makes its nest.

Slowly but surely things will change. I just had to remind myself that change wasn’t always a bad thing.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

n addition to not being that much more impressive than many in 1A, I never understood why “Explosion” was thought to be “perfect for heroics” in the first place. First of all, it’s a destructive quirk, and despite the prevalence of fire-quirked heroes, I’d expect the first reaction of most adults to a destructive quirk is to think “future-villain” - especially when wielded by a kid with no respect for property damage. Secondly, a lot of what makes it “good for heroics” is down to Bk’s intensive training - using it fly, etc - not things that would have been immediately obvious in elementary school.

Separately, I agree with what a few others have said that what makes Bk’s quirk seem so strong is his intensive training of it and his endless aggression. (Honestly, half of the kids should have found it psychologically hard to to actually attack someone with their quirk in their first class.) When other kids are actually worried about maiming someone, they’re not going to be using the constant 150% aggression like Bk.

Explosion is a 1 trick pony quirk at the end of the day. Or at least it should be but Hori gives Katsuki insane plot armor. Seriously, his stun grenade, ability to attack from a range, and his smokescreen clearing strike are BS.

This is why I always say there are two school of thoughts on Explosion Quirks: villain or hero.

For me, I think people praising him really focused on the combat aspect of his Quirk because heroism had become about fighting rather then saving people. I think a bright kid, with rich parents because they're a model and fashion designer the guy has money, Bakugou was placated by others even more. His willingness to train and work with his Quirk led to him being praised more.

Its a headcanon kids like Bakugou get specialized training for his Quirk because of how dangerous it can be. I imagine the trainer was shocked by how dedicated Bakugou was and praised him. It got around and everyone knew this kid was strong, wanted to be a hero, and had a combative Quirk.

So that can be why its him being praised so much, by a bunch of people focusing on combat not anything else.

Not sure about ‘kids finding it hard to attack others’ cause kids are nasty. I remember being like six and punching another kid in the face. Plus I had a brother two years older then me, and a cousin a week younger.

The three of us were nightmares and I ain't gonna lie if I was Bakugou I’d be using it on them one time. Of course I'd be horrified by them being hurt and would have been grounded so hard.

Little kids dont really have the ability to know right from wrong and empathy is very low but Bakugou… I've pointed out how malicious the Deku name is (and I will yell it still it occurred before Izuku was diagnosis and it was never a kind nickname) for a freaking toddler and while yeah Hori did it, whole thing is still disturbing.

His attacks are a bit BS and I think Hori was having to come up with a reason he's around because he is just that guy with an explosion Quirk. Mind I personally think Hori didn't like Bakugou but when he got super popular had to keep him around.

Everyone knows my thoughts on how Bakugou's arch should have gone. He's honestly such a boring character now to me, because I had that upswing of anger at him and now it's 'and here is Bakugou with a loud Quirk who somehow despite the logical assumptions is the best above everyone'. He's so boring.

The more I really think about it, the more I wanna really have Bakugou just be there. Have Izuku move past him without realizing it, and have Todoroki take the place as rival. I am not going to lie: the idea of Todoroki staying a rival for longer then canon (and actually presenting himself as a rival early on) is attractive as hell. He's RIGHT THERE. The son of the number two hero raised to surpass All Might constantly fighting against the protoge of All Might! The drama, the action.

I'd honestly only have the reveal of Todoroki's past be when the summer camp happens, and that's when Todoroki turns from rival to friend. Not the weird ass thing Hori did with Bakugou.

But yeah, you're not wrong.

[fae-morrigan]

hi…I was thinking about your jay/damian step-brothers au (I hope I got the right blog bc I searched through your blog and didn’t find anything but like I’m so sure it was you), but anyway…any scraps you have about this au that you can share…pleaseee

like their initial reactions and whether or not this is something Damian would flaunt, or anything else you have 🙏

How about a little more than just some scraps? For you, my lovely anon, who asked about the thing I've been circling in my brain for WEEKS?!

Sara and Talia get together when Damian isn't born yet. It starts as just a convenience thing, putting aside their nasty breakup as college students to raise their kids with a more unified/powerful house. And then of course they re-catch their feelings and their marriage becomes For Love.

Jay, who's of course around 6 (and just lost his other mom) thinks Damian is a very ugly baby. He comes around eventually.

Sara and Talia's respective influence on their sons ends up changing a lot about these two in this AU.

For one, Jay, like Damian, is trained from combat from childhood, and ends up taking a specialty in bladed weapons (where Damian is more of a jack of all trades). He ends up also being a lot less shy and even is actively assertive even before the experiments, making him a bit of an oddball in Gamorra (which retains Japan's culture of politeness) but also a bit of a leader. He ends up taking after Talia in terms of her strategic cunning when it comes to people, more than willing to pluck a person out of the crowd if he thinks they have a shared goal.

Meanwhile, with Sara's influence (specifically kicking Ra's to the curb immediately because only son boy allowed and Gamorra MORE than has the resources to tell him to shove it) Damian has a much more... Normal isn't the word, but happy is, childhood. They still have their grand political goals that these two are being raised to help realize, but Gamorra has a huge culture of 'it takes a village' when it comes to kids and so from the start Damian sees himself less as the top of a lateral hierarchy and more a leading part of a grander horizontal convoy.

(I'll elaborate a bit on Ra's in a later post once I pin down Jon & Nika in this au. Stay tuned!)

The fall of Gamorra goes, somehow, even worse. Talia and Sara in this au are not above rigging the election to make sure Bendix, Least Obvious American Plant Ever, doesn't win and take control of all their combined assets, except Bendix decides an election is for suckers and in this au just straight up stages a coup with American backing. Both Talia and Sara get captured: Sara gets taken first, with Talia and Jay getting captured together while ensuring Damian escapes to Bruce.

Damian's first meeting with Bruce in this au is not precipitated by his final birthday victory over Talia- In this AU, they never played that game at all, as Damian had zero interest in ever knowing his father (why dad when perfectly good two moms?). Rather, its precipitated by being the only survivor of his family when imperialism came knocking.

He still becomes Robin, and he still has an arc around learning the true power of violence and Why Killing Is Bad, but its with a different set of challenges: Rather than trying to help Damian unlearn his arrogance and deep-rooted trained violence, Bruce has to help Damian overcome his survivors guilt. Part of Damian's motivation for staying Robin and becoming the strongest is to save his mothers and his brother here.

He hates the other bats even more at first, here. They're not Jay, so why bother? His brother is gone.

Jay's story also goes almost the same but with slight differences- He still finds the revs, and still founds The Truth, and still sets out on a quest to exploit and destroy Bendix, but....

Everyone he exposes in The Truth's pages as helping Bendix's regime? Yeah, he kills them. With a sword.

(Also he's a bit of an arrogant dickhead here because he immediately gets to the revs and decides it is HE who is in charge. Dont worry, they soften him up a bit.)

The plot of this au formally kicks off when Robin (Damian), during the We Are Robin arc (which plays out almost entirely the same) gets wise to a string of mysterious murders that has seemingly migrated from Metropolis to Gotham.

I'm really proud of these designs btw, lol. Jay's especially.

Thanks for asking! I'll have more on this AU soon and will absolutely accept any more questions you guys have.