#calm theory anon

[lukolabrainrot]

Calm theory anon here!!! So I was doing some thinking and noticing. I have already touched on how I think a lot of the story line we are getting from Luke and Nic are scary similar. Like both Luke and Nic are linked with early 20 people. Both were photographed with those people correct. And another similarity is the way parts of the fandom are falling these other people Luke Girlfriend or Nicola boyfriend with Luke or Nic ever calling them that. Now we see the way both Luke and Nic have handle that. Both have been seen with these individuals after the initial pap pictures. Both have NEVER ONCE said anything about it. Both have ignored the gossip. And all you Jakola that are lurking that's exactly what it is Gossip until Luke or Nic make it a fact. So the way I process is to put myself in their shoes right. Why wouldn't I talk about this? If JD is an actual BF why would I hide him? I wouldn't there is no excuse I have seen is a reason to hide him. When you truly love in that romantic way you want to share that love why because your heart is sooo full with that love it comes out. So have we ever seen slips or Nic talking about JD or Luke slipping talking about Antonia? No we haven't that haven't slipped once. What we have seen is Nic slipping in Luke into conversation and Luke slipping Nic into conversations. To me that's what indicating that there is true love between Nic and Luke. But the parallels of both sets gossips we have seen makes me raise my eyes brows. I'm having a hard time believing that what gossip we see isn't some type of made up fantasy. Because once is a coincidence twice is a pattern. And the storylines we see are definitely patterning. Just some food for thought.

Calm Theory Anon, always showing up when we need you the most ❤️️

I've talked about this a lot, but I think there are a lot of smoke and mirrors going on. And I definitely agree with CTA, the patterns are patterning atp, and I don't think that is a coincidence 🤔

Everyone has been freaking out today about phone lockscreengate 2.0... My thoughts (all speculation of course):

That is L in some tropical beach area with a white tshirt (sound familiar to anyone? 🤔)... no one can convince me otherwise atp without more definitive proof. And that "enhanced" pic going around is NOT definitive proof that this ISN'T L and IS JD. Period. Also, it's impossible from the video the original pic derived from to get a SS that is clear and not blurry. So, we are basically going to see who we want to see in the pic.

There is a LOT more information that this pic is L based on the full picture of everything we have seen directly from L and N. And a LOT of evidence that N isn't comfortable with the Jakola narrative.

I don't think N wanted people to see her lockscreen, and this pic that very much looks like a "this is my man" pic, but it's out there now, so it is what it is.

Again, just my thoughts, and we are all going to have our own interpretation. Which is totally fine.

[lukola4evs]

Now you've decided fight with Bianca. I am not ok with pregnancy talking on some blogs but Bianca is not one of them and B has never broken respect on our Nic&Luke.

Instead, say something to your buddy Suffer, who shared that disgusting paparazzi video. Both Fia's blog and Suffer's blog are unbearable.

I’m not fighting Bianca. I’m just saying any Spain theory that says nic/luke were with each other instead of with Jake and Antonia is invalid with metadata proof.

That doesn’t make me a bad person.

Facts don’t care about your feelings anon, or Bianca’s, or anyone else’s.

And for the record, people in Bianca’s Discord have sent me screenshots where you can see she’s on that pregnancy train. So just because you haven’t seen that on tumblr, doesn’t mean myself or others don’t know where she stands.

Gtfoh with that.

[presdestigatto]

If this theory is true it's not even skills it's luck of skills he's benefiting from.

Omg, please, what theory. I need some details. What's it about.

(If you don't mind sharing)

ah hihi! nw haha it’s what i wrote in the tag before that, the fan speculation that because charles is gentler on the tires, sainz warms them up better and so he’s been qualifying over charles (tho really it’s just two qualis 😭) since the sf24 struggles to get the tires to the right temps for qualifying (its so good with the deg that at the start of the lap they’re often too cold, ++ in suzuka by the end of the lap in s3 they were too hot) so it’s like a charles is suffering from success thing. again (if you recall COTA 23)

but regarding quali i think it’s also relevant to recall that charles qualified over carlos in bahrain, and the tenth difference between them in suzuka was down to the lack of fp2/inability to capitalise on fp3 that resulted in charles having to do a one-shot q3 after everyone else’s first runs when track evolution was a factor, so ultimately aus is the only weekend you can really attribute to this theory? unless there was a set-up difference between the two cars, i’m not too sure because i recall seeing some sources state that both ran the same qualifying set up. if they did, only charles had issues which we may be able to explain w this^^

tldr it makes logical sense but the sample size is too small now (one… race) and there are too many factors at play for us as onlookers to be able to say for sure 👍

[sincericida]

RE: The “daddy” bracelet. It was probably a gift from a fan.

Good! It’s also a possibility. I swear, I don’t understand why people are freaking out, or calling him weird, that they’re coming up with theories about parenthood... because of a bracelet. You guys need to relax.

[daisyswift3]

Chaos=🫚 anon=glitch=blood moon vinyl=4,5,6=April-June. Cracks in the facade are starting to form now. So sth big is abt to happen in July? Maybe July 4 bc of all the red, white, and blue recently

I watched this interview that was uploaded on June 21, the day TSOU was released. I thought the typo here was strange bc Gracie laughs and looks up very pointedly at the camera right when she types ��song of the lyrics” as if the typo was on purpose to indicate she rewrote a lot of the song Close To You to include easter eggs. Plus this connects to the April 6th volcano anon message abt the "it's" typo in the April 4th message. "o stay your hand, and leave me its songs!" What's funny is the April 4th message w the "it's" typo actually said "o stay your hand, and leave my heart it's songs!" So there are actually 2 typos here bc "my heart" was changed to "me." She also puts "xoxo gossip girl" at the end which is very suspicious (x)

I believe the typo was intentional just like all the typos in the anon messages and the eras tour and Spotify canvas glitches. I mean we are dealing w tortured poets here so of course they’d pay attention to things like punctuation, spelling, and correct grammar

The cassandra lyrics were likely an easter egg to what we're seeing unfold rn. There is currently a lot of fighting happening in the fandom "when the first stone's thrown there's screaming, in the streets there's a raging riot." This is also a reference to the Stonewall Riots which happened on June 28, 1969 in New York City!! We are currently in the middle of pride month rn and June 28 is this Friday. This means the "patching up the crack along the wall" is also an easter egg connecting to the 🫚 messages about cracks, magic, and the split in the narrative. "When the truth comes out it's quiet" // "VOLUME OFF" // “The real magic, you see, isn’t in the grand vanishings or levitating doves. It’s in the whispers, the cracks in the veneer, the clues you might miss while your eyes chase the spotlight” // “A tale that becomes folklore is one that is passed down and whispered around” // The Secret of Us // “Babylon lovers hangin’ lifetimes on a vine.” The Manuscript has the lyrics "then the actors were hitting their marks and the slow dance was alight with the sparks and the tears fell in synchronicity with the score." If this is a movie, then all of these songs w easter eggs must be the score. “And the tears fell in synchronicity with the score” // “here’s to many, many, many more tears that will inevitably fall with me” 🌋 message. Also "the slow dance was alight with the sparks" parallels the "let's dance" in glitch and we are currently at the glitch/blood moon vinyl

"the volcano will soon rupture, whoever is to defame?"

These related typos and easter eggs span across all the different anons 🫚🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿🌋🎁🎃 which means we can now be 100% sure that all of these anons are legit and coming from the same source!!! I was wondering if there was a common thread tying all these messages together and sure enough there is! Mastermind indeed

🌋 volcanoes erupt, and with chaos they triumph. fumes bloom, ashes blanket the town. lava flows in unpredictable patterns, like veins in our lifelines. if only you could cross mine.

[byunpum]

Mama's boy

Pair: Jake x neytiri x human reader (trio couple) x sully children's

Warning: none, lo'ak being a sweet little potato for is mama. Sweet family moment.

Request: (anon) You were incredible in these new chapters, if it wasn't much, I would have been able to do a trisal story about Jake, neitiry and reader human where she has 2 more hybrid children (half human,Half na'vi)..

Note: I have always believed that avatars may be able to reproduce with humans. Both males and females. Since there are human traits in their DNA. So both jake and his children could reproduce with any human. That is my theory.

AVATAR MASTERLIST | Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6(final)

You loved days like this, it was a fresh and calm day in the jungle of Pandora. No one in the family had anything important to do. Just relax and spend time together. If anyone had told you that in a few years you were going to be sitting quietly on the floor of your home. With your son on your lap, while playing with one of his toys. With such loving partners, you wouldn't have believed them. And you had a good point for not believing. Neytiri and Jake were your mates, while you were human. The only human who was mated to two na'vi. The only human who had given birth to a na'vi baby, naturally.

Lo'ak had been born as a na'vi. With his distinctive braid, tail, skin color, ears etc. Just like his father, jake. But his human features were always there, he inherited your hands, some facial features that made him different from his siblings. Like kiri, they were a mixture of human and na'vi. This was not important to you, in your family these differences were not important and everyone was treated equally.

Neytiri was running around in circles playing with kiri, while neteyam was playing with jake. Meanwhile lo'ak was sitting very comfortably on your lap. Sucking his little finger, while you cuddled him. He was very peaceful, well…when he was with you. The bond that lo'ak had with you was very strong, he needed his mommy with him all the time. Neteyam and kiri were more active, while lo'ak preferred to be by your side. You tried to keep him away from you, so that he would become more independent. But it was all in vain, even mo'at herself told you that this was normal. That eventually he would become more independent, but he was already 5 years old, and he didn't seem to improve. Of course, this never bothered you… lo'ak became your own tail. Always behind you. Lo'ak could be with neytiri, about 3 to 5 hours. But then he would cry for you to hold him, and it was the same with jake. Lo'ak just wanted to be with you.

Neteyam ran to you, hugging you. The boy was about your size, but you didn't care. Hugging him back, to give him lots of kisses on his cheeks. Neteyam didn't notice but pushed lo'ak off your lap, causing the boy to fall to the ground. "mama… I want to be with you" says neteyam, now sitting where lo'ak once was. Lo'ak immediately began to cry. It was a very big and exaggerated whine. "Calm love…neteyam needs to be with me too" you try to calm him down, but you could barely touch him. Because neteyam was curled up on your chest. Neytiri comes closer, taking lo'ak in her arms to calm him down.

After a long six minutes, lo'ak calms down. But you can see how the child looks down from above, on Neytiri's shoulder. His eyes were watery and he was pouting. You try to ignore him, he has to learn that you were not only from him. Neteyam was also your son, as was Kiri. And they too demanded your attention. Kiri approaches his younger brother, hopping from neytiri's feet. "You're a mama's boy… an ugly, crying baby," Kiri says jokingly. Neytiri scolds her, while you and jake couldn't hold in the laughter. It was funny, but you take Kiri by the arm. Sitting her down next to you.

"Kiri…that's not right, lo'ak is special. He needs a lot of love" says neytiri holding the child in her arms, hoping he doesn't start crying. "No…mama is mine!!!!" says neteyam, hugging your neck more. Lo'ak whimpers, lifting his head from neytiri's shoulder. "Noooo mama is mine" shouts lo'ak.

"No!!!, only mine!!!" neteyam yells back, sticking out his tongue. This makes lo'ak upset, and he starts to cry. "nooo mama!!!! Let go of neteyam!!!!! Mama let go of me, I want to go on the floor" lo'ak is crying, while neytiri giggles a little. It's adorable to watch as the two children fight for your attention. Jake gets up from the floor, walking to your direction and taking neteyam from your lap. To now lay him down on the floor. Kneeling on the floor to carry you in his arms, bridal style. You laugh, as the children begin to whine.

"Technically, your mom is all mine" jake says, sticking his tongue out at his kids, reaching over to give you a kiss on your forehead. Watching as they start to whine. Neytiri was giggling, while now all the kids wanted her to carry them to keep up with jake. "Well…I'd say I'm more Neytiri's than yours" you say, reaching up to give him a kiss on the tip of his nose. (Y/N is wearing the oxygen mask I'm always mentioning, "click here" to learn more about it) Neytiti lets out a loud laugh, you could see her cheeks turn purple. Neytiri had a soft spot for you. Jake lets out a sigh of surrender and hugs you tighter. Leaving kisses on your neck, while you laugh.

In the evening, everyone was settled in their respective hammocks. You were finishing getting Kiri settled, while Jake put the boys to bed. After a while, you lay down in your own hammock, you were tired. You were about to go to sleep, when you feel little hands touching your arm. You open your eyes, finding lo'ak's little face. The child had his arms outstretched for you to carry him. Laughing a little, you hold the child. And settle him on your chest. Snuggling him with your arms, giving him lots of kisses on the crown of his head. "My beautiful baby…you are sad" you lullaby to lo'ak. He only responds with a "hmmm" and falls asleep in your arms.

Jake comes up to you one last time, to check that all was well. As he approaches, he notices how you and lo'ak were cuddling. "I imagined he was with you," Jake said softly. Leaning in to give you a kiss on the tip of your nose. "Well… you know what he's like" you joke. "He's a mama's boy…a cute mama's boy. You know…" jake pauses, thinking about how he was going to say what he was going to say next. "Eventually you'll have to let him grow up…kids his age are more independent and " jake is interrupted, when one of your hands goes to his mouth. "Shhh shut up…when it's time, he'll grow up on his own…in the meantime we'll be here for him." you speak, slapping jake's arm playfully. There was a small silence, until you see a playful smile on Jake's lips.

"Babe…why don't you leave lo'ak here quietly and come sleep with me and neytiri" jake takes your hand and gives it a kiss on the palm, causing you to giggle and blush. "Together…the three of us" jake jokes biting your fingers. You laugh softly, trying not to wake lo'ak. You think about it for a moment, and the truth is you missed sleeping with jake and neytiri. Lo'ak consumed too much of your time, so you accept Jake's offer. You carefully settled lo'ak down, making sure he was comfortable.

Jake was behind you, excited. You could hear his tail bump between his legs. He held your hand, walking quickly to the hammock that you and Jake and Neytiri usually shared. Neytiri watches as you and Jake approach. She gets excited, it had been about 3 months since you last slept with them. Reaching out her hand, she takes yours. You climb in easily, feeling Jake hold you around the waist. Both of you settling into the hammock. You were in the middle of them, neytiri hugged you. While Jake hugs you from behind, burying his head in the back of your neck. "I missed this," says neytiri, enjoying the comfort. A couple of minutes later, lo'ak's crying began to be heard. You lift your head from neytiri's chest, beginning to stand up. When you feel her hug you tighter. "No… Y/N you must let him calm down himself" neytiri says. "Y/N, neytiri is right" jake speaks.

"He ate, he's clean and he's comfortable. He can be alone" says neytiri, she was serious. You knew you had to leave him alone, but lo'ak was your baby. Your only baby. "If he doesn't stop crying in five minutes, I'll go check on him. You stay here and rest," Jake speaks, kissing your shoulder. Your partner had you in his arms, if it wasn't for that you'd be at lo'ak's side by now. And as if by magic, lo'ak stopped crying. Jake got out of the hammock and checked from afar. Seeing how the child had already fallen asleep.

"See…it's all right," says Neytiri, hugging you even tighter. You snuggle closer to her. As you feel jake settle in behind you. Hugging you both. This parenting thing was all new to all of you.

[yan-randomfandom]

hi!!! omg i just discovered your blog and i’m in LOVE! could i request yandere stanford pines (platonic or romantic or some other type is up to you) with a reader who is a reincarnated euclidean/flatworlder/dream demon? (i don’t know if you’re familiar with same coin theory, but that’s my inspiration!) preferably with no/limited memories of their past life? i imagine ford would be pretty suspicious at first because of his experiences with bill, maybe even try to kill them… but who knows if those feelings will change… that, or maybe he would get obsessed with them as a replacement muse… lots of possibilities! feel free to change/add anything to the concept, or if it doesn’t interest you, i’d appreciate any yandere ford in general! thank you!!!

Yandere!Stanford Pines x Godling!Reader

this took me a while, but i finally got around to writing it! thank you for your kind words, anon! this one contains continuous stories— because this is so long, feel free to point out any mistakes

🌑

You have been summoned.

Even from your deep slumber, the presence of other ghastly beings roaming around the dimension was painfully obvious to you. How curious; they don't seem to belong here.

"You. You grant wishes right? No deals?"

The one who summoned you flinched when you made eye contact. With their chin lifted, they tried to seem intimidating, yet the tremble of their lips and the quaking of their legs gave them away.

"Indeed, but," you replied, smiling to the best of your ability. You hovered around them, critically observing their physical body, and, by extension, their soul.

They are nothing short of terrified. But intriguingly, their fear does not mainly stem from your presence.

"Pray tell," you mused, twirling their hair with your fingers, "what happened here, dear human? I've been asleep for some time, so I request a small favor: answer my question."

Because if you had to be honest, you have no fucking idea what's happening right now. The longer you stay awake, the more you realize that you have no memory of your past.

"Bill Cipher happened. This is the Weirdmaggedon," they answered, their body shaking more intensely. You paused. "I don't know what he wants. Please, all I ask is for you to transfer me and my family somewhere safe. The ones I care about have turned to stone. We just want to be happy. Please."

A giggle escaped you. "A noble wish. Very well, I shall send you and your family to the nearest safe place."

You placed your hand on the top of their head, and they vanished out of thin air.

Humming a tune, you made your way out of the cave where you had been trapped and finally saw the world outside.

...

Swirling colors and chaotic phenomena surrounded you. What a monstrosity. Someone else has taken over this area—Bill Cipher, was it?

Turning your head, you saw an enormous bubble wrapped in chains. A grin-like expression stretched across your face.

So that’s where you sent your summoner.

🌒

Weirdmaggedon is officially over.

Stanford knew that. Bill is gone. His brother is slowly but surely regaining his memories back. Everything is going to be... normal again.

As normal as it can be anyway. A sigh left Ford when he rolled over to his side, staring at practically nothing. The room is pitch black.

He closed his eyes.

...

It's bright. With a gasp, his eyes snapped open.

A familiar field. The gentle breeze doesn't calm him down in the slightest. He's back here. Again. Why? Did Bill somehow escape? Is he out for revenge? That stupid dream demon—!!

"Gree—"

Ford shouted, immediately swinging his fist at you. You dodged swiftly in time.

"—tings! Woah!" you huffed, taking extra care to ensure he didn’t land a finger on you. "Is this how you usually greet a higher being, Stanford Pines?"

The human’s heart raced uncontrollably. This can’t be happening. "Bill, what twisted form have you taken now? Didn’t we destroy you already?!"

You blinked, then laughed. "I'm not Bill, silly! He's long gone, I'm pretty sure. How should I know?"

Not Bill? What kind of nonsense are you spewing out? Stanford's expression darkened. This might be a dream, but he really didn’t want to deal with you—especially not after everything that had just happened.

His demeanor didn't go unnoticed.

"...Oh. I'm sorry," you muttered, getting close enough to meet his eyes. They widened at your words. "I didn't mean to laugh at your misery. I've just been so confused lately."

"What?" was all Ford could manage to say.

"I heard all about you," you said carefully, making gestures with your hands. "Human with six fingers. The man who freed Bill Cipher. Who has traveled across dimensions."

"Who told you...?"

You smiled. "I asked many—don't worry about that part. I was wondering if you could tell me anything about myself. You seem to know a lot, Pines."

Ford woke up.

...

Was that just a dream? Were you even real?

Bill is long gone, dead. Isn't he? He won't find the answers to his questions until he falls asleep again.

🌓

Ford doesn't do anything about you until he's sure of himself. You were definitely just a figment of his imagination, right? A dream.

That’s exactly why he couldn’t believe it when you showed up again. A stupid, curious expression on your face.

And this time, Ford took it upon himself to try and kill you.

"Urk! Don’t do this! I understand you're traumatized, but I really am just trying to find my home!" you stammered, flying and dodging every attack he threw your way.

This is weird. You’re saying things Bill would never say. Is he really trying the opposite approach just to manipulate Ford again?

A massive blast from a cannon struck you.

To both of your surprise, the attack did absolutely nothing to damage you.

"I'm alive!" you exclaimed with glee, up in the air, comically rotating from the impact. "Done yet, Pines? I simply want to talk, you know!"

... Of course. Both of you are untouchable in the dreamscape. While you can imagine anything within both the mind and the dream, a being like Bill isn't stupid enough to enter with his actual body. Guess it worked the same way for you, too. It was still worth a shot.

Ford woke up.

🌔

"Finally ready?"

You tittered at him up from above. Ford narrowed his eyes at you.

"What do you want?" he deadpanned. "You're not here to make a deal, are you?"

"Deals are not my forte," you said, showing him a negative gesture. "I do wishes. But if I have to admit, I wouldn't wish something from me either."

"So you trick people," he replied, gritting his teeth. "Why do you feel the need to do that? What benefits do you gain?"

You glanced at the side before looking back at him, shrugging. "I don't remember."

"Is that so? How many wishes?"

"One."

His eyebrows furrowed. "Bill—"

"I am not Bill," for the first time since you've met him, your voice finally sounded firm. "As far as we both know, he is gone."

"... What is your name, then?"

"... I don't remember."

🌕

A frustrated huff left Ford as he rubbed between his eyebrows. You giggled, pushing your hand through his hair. It's soft.

"You're not being helpful at all," he said.

"Apologies," you replied, looking sheepish. "It's hard to answer your questions if I know nothing."

"There must be something you know," the man insisted, stepping away from your touch. He doesn't like how gentle it was.

You hummed, crossing your arms as you floated away. "Do you know how Bill looks like? Am I of similar physique, perhaps?"

Ford paused as his eyes glanced up and down at your form. You can't help but feel uneasy under his tenseful gaze.

"You don't know what Bill looks like?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

This man sure is suspicious of you. Not that you blame him. "No. I believe I never met him."

"You believe?" he scoffed. "I hope you know it's hard to trust you."

"Well," you drawled, "would it convince you if I said you can wish for my memory to come back?"

His eyes widened.

You chuckled. Maybe this was too shocking for him. Take it slow, you thought.

"Before anything else, though, how about we enjoy a nice cup of dream tea?"

🌔

You stared at the chess board in between you and Ford, confusion filling your face. "Wait, how does the knight move again?"

"Think of this shape," Ford explained, forming a black marker with his thoughts and drawing the letter 'L' in mid-air. "The knight moves to the end of this point. Just try to visualize it on the board."

"Oh, I think I understand," you muttered, choosing to move your knight in the corner of the board.

Ford grinned. He placed his queen right next to your king. "Checkmate."

"What?!" you gasped, your eyes rambling around the whole chest board. "I mistook my king for the queen! I say rematch!"

A hearty laugh escaped Ford's lips. If this was in the physical world, he's sure that his cheeks would start hurting from smiling so much.

He still wasn’t sure if you were dangerous or not. Really, of all people, Ford should know better than to mess with otherworldly beings.

But maybe this time, you're different. Because, as far as he knows, you're powerless.

🌓

"Pines," you said as Ford roamed his hands across your body. He said this was his way of observing how different you were from Bill. "Aren’t you going to use your wish to help me regain my memory? Or do you want to use it for something else?"

He rubbed his thumb over the side of your body shape. Interesting. You're just as two-dimensional as Bill is. "I only have one chance of using my wish, don't I?"

"Indeed," you murmured, shifting slightly under his touch. "I won't stop you if you use it for yourself, but I'll have to find someone else who might use the wish for me."

Ford halted all his movements.

"What?"

You drifted away from his fingers. He stared at you, wide-eyed.

"I said I'll find another to grant my wish for me," you explained. "Anyway, how was your assessment? Am I anything like Bill?"

Ford continued to stare at you, looking as if he were lost in thought.

...

"Pines?"

"Sorry," he coughed, "but, yes, you're quite similar to Bill."

You beamed, floating over to him and ruffling his hair. "Another step closer to figuring out who I am! Thank you, Pines!"

Ford woke up.

He stared at the dark ceiling. The sun has barely risen.

You had no memories. If he helped you get them back, would you be indebted to him? Or would you turn out like Bill, who wanted to rule the world?

Ford can't let you meet up with another human.

There's only one way out of this.

🌒

"You're ready to use your wish?" you gasped, placing your hands on his shoulders. "That's excellent news—!"

"Question. Do you have limits in your wishes?" Ford asked deliberately, careful with his every word.

You hesitated before replying. "I suppose not."

His large hands held yours over his shoulders. You glanced at his six fingers before meeting his gaze again.

"Then I wish to be your master."

You felt your soul fall to the deepest depths of the dreamscape.

"You'll do anything I ask for. Be under my will. There is no turning back, dream demon."

🌑

[amirawrah]

⭐︎Fuck distance

with JOBE BELLINGHAM⭐︎REQUESTED BY ANON!

synopsis: Distance becomes a quiet test of love for the both of you but jobe doesn't care and neither do you.

The sun was low and golden, casting a warm filter over the Los Angeles skyline. You stood by the tall windows of your penthouse, overlooking the sprawl of the city you called home. A half-read script sat open on your coffee table, your reading glasses lazily discarded beside it. Rocky—your protective, spoiled German Shepherd—was stretched out by the kitchen island, snoozing in the comfort of late afternoon peace. You had the weekend off from set, the first in weeks, and though you’d promised yourself rest, the ache in your chest said otherwise. You missed Jobe.

Time zones were cruel. Being in different countries with different demands—him with football, you with films—meant even your best days sometimes ended in longing. FaceTimes, voice notes, blurry screenshots of calls during makeup touch-ups, good morning texts that came in your night—it was all sweet but never enough.

You’d tried to shake it. Tried to lean into the silence, the calm of your place, the quiet power of being alone and accomplished. But when Rocky lifted his head and let out a soft woof, your heart jumped with something like hope.

Footsteps.

What?

You moved slowly toward the door, barefoot and unsure, peeking through the peephole. But there wasn’t anyone—

Then a soft knock.

Rocky stood up immediately, tail starting to wag, protective instincts surprisingly calm. He knew that knock. You knew it too.

You opened the door, and there he was.

Jobe. In a hoodie and joggers, curls covered with a cap, duffle bag slung over his shoulder, passport barely tucked into his hand. His smile was sleepy and boyish, like he hadn't even rested since his flight. “Hi,” he said softly.

Your brain short-circuited for a full three seconds. “Wait—what? What are you—”

He dropped the bag with a thud and wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in your shoulder. You melted instantly. He smelled like travel and cologne, exhaustion and warmth. “Couldn’t wait anymore,” he mumbled. “Told them I needed four days. Didn’t even tell you—I wanted to see your face when you opened the door.”

“Jobe—” You pulled back just enough to look at him. His eyes were glassy, his mouth curved in that crooked, irresistible way. “You flew all the way here?”

He shrugged, eyes on you like nothing else mattered. “My girl's too far away, couldn’t do it anymore.”

Rocky whined between you, tail wagging harder now. Jobe knelt, ruffling the dog’s fur, smiling at the way Rocky immediately pawed his chest like he belonged to both of you. “Missed you too.”

You were blinking rapidly, half from surprise, half from the rush of happiness flooding your chest. “You’re insane,” you whispered, laughing. “Insane and perfect.”

“You missed me?”

You stared. “Don’t start.”

He stood again, this time taking your face in his hands. His thumbs brushed your cheeks like he hadn’t touched you in years. “Then come here.”

The kiss was soft. Slow. A reunion. You felt it in your ribs, in the curl of your toes, in the silence behind your closed eyes. You didn’t realize how much your body had ached for him until he pressed into you, arms strong and sure, lips moving like an apology and a promise.

When you finally pulled back, you were breathless. “I should punch you for not warning me.”

“I should’ve recorded your reaction.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, dragging him inside.

He followed easily, taking in your penthouse like it was the first time—even though he’d been here months ago. “It looks more lived in now.”

“Well, that’s what happens when you’re stuck on set twelve hours a day. Mess happens.”

He kicked off his shoes and flopped onto your cloud of a couch, arms out, legs spread, like he belonged there—which he did. Rocky climbed up beside him instantly, head resting in Jobe’s lap. “This dog loves me more than you.”

“I wouldn’t test that theory,” you said, pouring him water in the kitchen.

Jobe watched you, eyes never leaving your body. “Still can’t believe I’m here.”

“You better believe it. I’m making you dinner now that you’ve broken into my weekend.”

“Oh yeah?” he grinned, sitting up. “You cook now?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’ve always cooked.”

“You warmed leftovers last time I was here.”

You laughed, tossing a kitchen towel at him. “You want dinner or not?”

He stood, crossed the space in seconds, and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. “I just want to be close to you.”

You leaned into him, cheek resting on his shoulder. “You already are.”

That night, you made grilled chicken and roasted vegetables while Jobe chopped terribly but insisted on helping. You danced in the kitchen to a playlist you’d both made, socks on and laughing while Rocky barked at your awful attempts at synchronised spins. He told you about training, the team, how much he hated hotel beds without you in them. You showed him your upcoming projects, ranted about your costar’s weird breath work obsession, and told him how boring press was without him teasing you in the car after.

Dinner turned into dessert—ice cream on the couch while you curled into each other under a blanket. The lights were low, the windows wide, the city outside twinkling like it knew love was blooming again inside your walls.

At one point, Jobe shifted so he was lying with his head in your lap, looking up at you like he hadn’t seen a better view all year. “You’re still the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.”

You brushed your fingers through his curls. “You’re still the most dramatic.”

“I mean it.” His voice dropped. “You do all this. You act. You memorise lines and look good on carpets and take care of Rocky. And you’re mine.”

You tilted your head. “Of course I’m yours.”

He reached up, fingertips grazing your cheek. “Sometimes I think about you in these huge rooms. All that attention. All those lights. And it hits me—you could’ve had anyone. But you chose me.”

You smiled, heart tightening. “I didn’t choose you by accident, Jobe.”

He sat up then, kissed you again, soft and slow. “Don’t make me cry in your expensive apartment.”

You giggled, pulling him close again. “Cry, please.”

“Shut up,” he murmured into your neck, voice trembling with love.

You fell asleep together that night on the couch, Rocky curled at your feet, the TV playing some rerun neither of you were watching. His hand stayed on your waist, yours tucked under his hoodie, breathing in sync, miles and fame and distance forgotten in the quiet of your shared space.

In the morning, you woke up first, only because Rocky climbed onto the couch and nudged your leg like he wanted to go out. But even then, you didn’t move—because Jobe shifted in his sleep, clinging to your side like instinct. You looked down at him—hair a bit messy, mouth parted, hoodie twisted—and felt a calm settle over your chest.

He’d flown across an ocean just to see you. Just to remind you that home wasn’t a place. It was him.

You let Rocky wait just a little longer. You weren’t ready to give up this moment.

Jobe stirred slowly, his breath warm against your collarbone as he blinked up at you, still halfway in a dream. His fingers flexed at your waist like he needed to make sure you were really there.

“Morning,” he rasped, voice low and still laced with sleep.

“Morning,” you whispered, brushing a hand through his curls. “You didn’t even flinch when Rocky jumped up.”

“I’m still jet-lagged,” he mumbled, nuzzling into your side. “Also knew he wouldn’t bite me. I’ve been accepted.”

You laughed under your breath, feeling his arms pull you in tighter. His body curled around yours like he hadn’t seen you in years, not just months. Like he had to memorise your shape all over again.

Jobe pressed a kiss to your shoulder, then another, slower this time. His lips lingered, and so did the hand now sliding from your waist up your spine in a gentle drag. You turned toward him slightly, and the sleepy glint in his eyes softened into something deeper—quiet, intense, warm.

“I missed you,” he murmured against your skin, like a confession he’d been holding in all night.

You reached for his face, cupping his jaw with your thumb stroking just beneath his cheekbone. “Missed you too.”

Neither of you moved for a long moment, just breathing in the hush of the early morning light. But then he kissed you—soft, like he was easing back into the rhythm of you. And you kissed him back just the same, slow and lingering, mouths brushing like you had all the time in the world.

Jobe shifted over you, hoodie sliding up slightly as he pressed a hand to your side, grounding himself there. His body was warm and solid against yours, and he tucked his head into the crook of your neck like it was the only place he wanted to be.

“I forgot how good this feels,” he said, voice muffled against your skin.

“You mean cuddling?” you teased gently, running your fingers through his curls again.

“No,” he said, pulling back to look you in the eye. “Not cuddling.”

There was something raw in his expression, something stripped of bravado or playfulness. Just love—open and quiet and real. He leaned in again, kissing you deeper this time, thumb brushing beneath your shirt, not with urgency but familiarity. The kind of touch that asked, Do you feel this too?

You did.

You shifted under him, letting your leg hook around his, drawing him closer as your bodies molded together like second nature. Everything was slow, tender, like the two of you were relearning each other with every kiss, every sigh, every hand that moved under cotton and over skin.

And when you finally laid there afterward, tangled in limbs and soft breathing, Jobe pressed his forehead to yours, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

“Next time I come here,” he whispered, “I won't leave so soon.”

You smiled, still catching your breath. “Next time, don’t wait so long.”

He kissed your forehead. “Deal.”

From the hallway, Rocky gave an impatient little bark like he’d waited long enough. Jobe groaned into your neck. “You think he’ll let us go back to sleep if I feed him?”

You laughed softly. “He might if you throw in a belly rub.”

“I’m not above bribery,” Jobe said, sitting up and pulling you with him, his hand never leaving yours. “Not if it means I get to come back to bed with you.”

You leaned into him with a smile. “Then feed the dog, Bellingham.”

He grinned, tugging you into a kiss before heading off, hoodie slipping off one shoulder, smile soft and easy. And you watched him go, heart full—because even across oceans and time zones, he still knew exactly how to come home to you.

[lotties-ashwagandha]

OFFERINGS

poly!adult!yellowjackets x fem!reader

NSFW! you try to blackmail them for money, but end up with them on your doorstep, and they’re ready to kill you until they realize who you are. the anons were going to smite me down if i didn’t write this, so enjoy :) toxic weirdo shit in this fic so consider this your formal warning. AU where lottie still has her wellness center bc miss cult leader deserves to be happy. also misty is mentioned in this fic but she doesn’t get busy bc in my head she’s ace and possibly aro and I have to follow that.

“You should go,” Lottie says, pulling on a robe. “You’ll be late for work.”

In theory, you could stay for another hour or so, if this wasn’t all so transactional — but you know she doesn’t like the idea of anyone seeing you sneaking away out of her cabin in the mornings, so she sends you away at dawn. If she had more self control, she would have you out before that — but the nights you come over to the wellness center are the only nights Lottie allows herself to really be free, and the two of you usually end up drinking or smoking something so potent that you don’t remember making it into bed together in the first place.

And most of the time, Natalie is no help — she hasn’t been ever since she and Lottie started dating, and you started coming over to be shared between them.

You don’t know how Lottie still manages to function at such an early hour afterwards, and every time, while Natalie sleeps in. If it were up to you, you’d take a full day of recovery. Instead you are on the road driving at sunrise back to your apartment, so that you can change and look somewhat presentable at work in a few hours.

You don’t feel bad about the letter you slipped into their mailbox this time. You should, but you don’t — and you don’t regret sending variations of the same to the rest of the Yellowjackets, because all of them are wealthier than you, and even if you were to receive double the amount of money you were blackmailing them for, it wouldn’t put financial strain on them at all. And now, above all, you need extra money — the current financial landscape makes it nearly impossible to get a job that pays well enough for you to live comfortably.

While you’re driving, your phone starts to ring. The caller ID surprises you with Shauna Sadecki.

“I need you to stop by the house,” she says as soon as you pick up. “It’s important.”

You haven’t spoken to Shauna in a long time. You’re older than her daughter by a long shot, but your families are familiar since your younger sister has been best friends with Callie since she started high school and you were already in college. “Is everything okay?”

“I know you sell Callie weed,” Shauna states.

That’s new. It’s not true, either — not really. “I don’t sell your daughter weed.”

“You give it to someone who gives it to someone who gives it to her,” Shauna sighs. You can’t deny that. “I don’t mind. But she’s run out, and I… I’m going through some shit, and I need you to stop by with your magic shit.”

__

Shauna lights the first joint in front of you. She savors the smoke, closing her eyes for a moment as new calmness sweeps over her features.

“Is everything alright?” You ask. Out of the corner of your eye you see the envelope you sent.

She opens her eyes and unpromptedly glances down at the envelope before turning to look out the kitchen window. “Everything’s fine.”

You nod, clearing your throat awkwardly and pocketing the money she hands you.

“What about you?” Shauna asks. “Haven’t seen you in a long time. Your sister still comes over at least three times a week, though.”

“I’ve been working,” you say carefully, but with the necessary authority in your voice to make your tasks sound big and important.

“On this enterprise you’ve got?” Shauna looks down at everything she bought from you.

“And other things,” you shake your head.

“So mysterious,” she mocks you. “Well, good luck with all of your… other things.”

__

“Hey,” Taissa sits down on the couch next to Van. She hands her the letter. “This was in the mailbox today.”

“What is it?” Van looks up from the box of tapes she had been sorting through.

“Open it.”

Van opens the envelope and reads what lies inside. When she’s done she closes the envelope and rips it in half.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s bullshit,” Van shrugs. “No one’s going to expose anything we did. No one knows anything.”

Taissa shakes her head. “Should we really take that chance, though?”

Van hesitates. “What would we do, anyway? I’m not giving anyone money.”

“Maybe we don’t have to. We could—”

“We’re not killing anyone, either,” Van interrupts, and even though her concern dissipates a bit when Taissa grabs her hand, she is stern.

“I’m going to call Misty,” Taissa decides. “If anyone knows what to do with a blackmailer, it’s that crazy bitch.”

__

Your next stop was a test of luck.

You had a growing suspicion that Melissa, a woman that was meant to be long dead, was living the suburban dream instead of rotting in a grave. You had done some deep diving on what really happened to the Yellowjackets, and some conspiracies you found online matched with some other research — and a few things Lottie and Nat said when you were unreasonably high with them one night — led you to locate Melissa alive and well in a new house with a new name and a wife that just so happened to be the daughter of a researcher killed in the wilderness.

You’ve driven by the house a few times now to make sure no one’s home. The only car left about half an hour ago, and from what you could gather it was the whole family that had left.

The final envelope rests in your hands. It will be simple to walk it up to the mailbox, you’re parked a ways down the street so that no one suspects you, but you’re still wrought with apprehension.

The mailbox, instead of being placed at the end of the street, is a drop box attached to the house next to the front door. It’s closer than you want to be to the house even with no one inside, but you gather your courage and try to act natural for anyone watching as you go up the front steps to occupy the porch.

You reach for the mailbox, but before you can slip the envelope inside, the front door swings open.

Shauna Sadecki meets your eyes. “You need to go.”

You pause, clutching the envelope. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” Shauna tightens her grip on a knife in her left hand. Then, she sees the envelope you hold, and recognition sweeps over her face. “What’s that?”

You don’t have time to answer. She rips it out of your hands and opens it, scanning over the letter within.

Shauna looks back up at you. “You fucking bitch.”

Another voice sounds from inside. “Who is it?”

Melissa joins Shauna in the doorway. There’s no doubt that it’s her, with the same quiet sureness that you remember from pictures of her taken forever ago. And if a resemblance to her past self wasn’t enough, she still wears that backwards fucking hat.

Melissa steals the letter from Shauna. “What is this?”

Shauna looks hesitant to say, guilty even. She speaks quietly, but you hear the fury in her voice. “She’s trying to blackmail us.”

Melissa crumples up the paper and faces Shauna. “So it wasn’t me.”

Shauna doesn’t meet her eyes.

“You thought it was Melissa?” You look between them and your gaze settles on Shauna’s knife. “Did you come here to…”

“And now it’s you,” Shauna pulls you inside and shuts the door. She points her knife at you, guiding you to go stand over by the fireplace. “You’re going to stay there until we decide what to do with you.”

You’re fucked — and the horrible thing is that you don’t really mind. You stand with Shauna Sadecki pointing a knife straight at your heart and while you are afraid, you embrace it. You have lived such an existence of monotony that part of you wants to take a step forward to find out what the point of the blade feels like against your chest, to see if she will drive it in the rest of the way. You want the intensity of her gaze pointed at you just as sharply, you want to bear her scorn.

“The rest are on their way,” Shauna says, coming closer. “Lottie, Natalie… What do you think they will do when they find out it’s been you behind this all along?”

You’re not sure how she knows. You’ve been discreet with your visits to the wellness center.

Shauna toys with the knife in her hands, glancing down at the paper Melissa holds. “Hand-delivering a blackmail threat. I didn’t think you were that stupid.”

You didn’t think any of it through. Your desperation had gotten the better of you and maybe, in the back of your mind, you had wanted to get caught. You wanted to feel powerful and in some way prove your defiance of the usual system of money honestly earned and a world where only the rich have the privilege of disobedience. You wanted to be caught and somehow praised for it.

You find no praise here. Death watches you.

“We could have you arrested,” Melissa stalks over. You realize she carries a knife now, too. “You could be fined, you could be put in prison… you wouldn’t survive it.”

You wouldn’t. You don’t know if you’ll survive this.

You hear a car pulling into the driveway. You stay still, even when Shauna lowers the knife and lets in the rest of the Yellowjackets.

They come inside one by one and suddenly you recall every horrible tale you’ve ever heard about their time in the wilderness. You remember the stories that they ate their own teammates, that they used to make sacrifices to an unnamed spirit and hope for salvation that was never truly received.

Lottie comes in first, and she is the first to notice you. She looks between you, Shauna, and Melissa, confusion etched into her features. “What’s going on?”

Shauna waits until the rest of them are inside before pointing the knife at you again. “It wasn’t Melissa. It was her.”

Lottie exchanges a look with Natalie, who stands at her side with the same look of surprise. Then Lottie approaches Shauna and grabs for the blade in her hand.

Shauna doesn’t let go. She looks up at her defiantly and a silent communication passes between the two of them that causes the rest of the room to fall silent.

Shauna lets go of the knife.

You take a step back instinctively when Lottie approaches with the knife. You can’t meet her eyes, not even when she steps so close to you that you can feel her breath on your neck when she leans slightly and speaks in a volume only you are meant to hear. “You spent so many nights with Nat and I, we thought you were ours, and you did this…”

“I needed money,” you say quietly.

“I would have given you money, love. All you had to do was ask,” Lottie moves back half a step and trails the knife down to the hollow of your throat. Greater authority comes into her voice. “There are three ways out of this for you. The first is you leave, you leave and for your own good we never see or hear from you again. The second way is that you give us something in return, a repentance. You give us an appeasement and we all carry on like we used to. And the third way…” Lottie lifts your chin with the flat side of the knife. You meet her eyes, and you understand her implication, that in the third way your blood is spilled for It and everything you read about the Yellowjackets becomes true. “What will it be?”

Your breath catches in your throat and for a moment you can barely breathe as you acclimate to the feeling of the knife, but you’ve already made up your mind. You don’t want to die, and you don’t want to leave. You want them. You want to beg for their forgiveness. “The second way.”

“The second way,” Lottie repeats, removing the knife and stepping behind you, circling you. “What will you give us?”

“Anything you want.”

She stops in front of you. “That’s not how offerings work. You don’t ask, you give.”

You hesitate. You know what you want to give, you know what she wants you to give, but you’re not sure if anyone else shares the same idea.

“You can pick a different answer if you’d like,” Lottie says casually, like she’s not offering isolation or death, “but you have to decide now.”

You have known what you’ve wanted since you started all of this, even if you never fully admitted to it. So there is no fear or regret or horror living in you when you step up to her and kiss her. Her arms slide around you, one hand pulling at your hair and driving you closer to her. You hear the metallic clink of the knife dropping to the floor.

Someone else is behind you now, pressing up against your back. You can tell instantly that it’s Nat — you have been down this road before. She reaches for your shirt, greedily pulling it over your head before latching onto your neck and sucking angry marks onto your skin. Her nails dig into your sides, and you moan when she pulls you closer back against her.

Lottie is pulled away from you by Melissa, who isn’t so apt to share you. You run your hands along the defined muscles of her shoulders as she kisses you, and you gasp when she tugs you forward and leads you into the bedroom. She gets impatient before you can reach the bed, instead shoving you back up against the wall.

She’s about to get on her knees in front of you when Shauna pushes her away.

You meet Shauna’s eyes for a moment. You both know that this will not leave you after, that the way your families have been innocently entwined will be poisoned. But she shoves her fingers into your mouth and you suck on them anyway. And you let her, and again Natalie who has returned, leads you over to the bed.

It’s Taissa and Van, though, who pin you down onto it. Taissa doesn’t let you watch the rest of them caught up in each other kissing and sucking and moaning, and Van takes over and straddles you once the two of them have rid you of the rest of your clothes. She leans down, shifting to suck at your collarbones, moaning against your skin.

“So beautiful, isn’t she?” Taissa agrees, hand trailing against your jaw as she looks just as far gone at the sight of you beneath her girlfriend. She speaks about you like you can’t hear. “She’ll look so gorgeous when she cums for us.”

Lottie joins you on the bed. She looks down at Van with something akin to annoyance. “Let me have her.”

“You’ve already had your turn.”

“No,” Lottie argues, but her protests are silenced when Nat comes over and pulls her against her, and for the moment she’s satisfied. And you’re happy with the solution too, every inch of you burning with need for them with Van settling between your legs as you watch Natalie pull Lottie’s dress down and slide a hand down to rub at her clit. You moan at the sight, and the two of them notice, Lottie’s gaze a heavy pressure on you until Nat slides two fingers inside of her and Lottie throws her head back against the other woman’s shoulder.

At the same time, Van licks through your folds, tongue sliding lazily over your clit. You gasp and Taissa leans down to kiss you, and somewhere close you hear Shauna’s whispered praise to you and Melissa moaning as god-knows-who is touching her.

It’s building quickly, the heat between your thighs that’s growing into something so fervent and agonizingly intense that the moans that escape you are embarrassing, and the speed at which they’ve taken you to the edge of release even more.

“Watch her, she’s so close,” you hear Natalie whisper to Lottie. “Watch her cum from seeing us.”

Van sucks your clit into her mouth, working her fingers inside of you, your wetness coating her chin and hand. And then Taissa straddles your face, lowering herself down onto your mouth, and your hands are shaking as you pull her closer and start to lick through her wetness.

Someone pulls Van away from you — Shauna.

“Don’t let her cum yet,” she orders. “Not until the rest of us have.”

im on my period btw and everyone needs to know because i am very angry about it. wrote this on my typewriter bluetooth keyboard like a true gangster of irredeemable sin, a glutton of tickled toes and one jolly fellow of olden days. comment/reblog if you enjoyed :)

masterlist | ko-fi/“buy me a $2 coffee” | taglist form

[lukolabrainrot]

Calm theory anon here!!! We are going to start off strong with a how do actors shut down dating rumors? What are some of the ways you have seen actors shut down rumors before? Most of the time it's with a he is just my friend or with a oh we are just friends. And those that are blunt will say we don't see each other like that. They are direct and want to kill the rumors before they start flying. Nicola didn't have to mention Luke at all. The fact that she did speaks volumes. She mention her relationship with her costar when she discussing a bunch of serious topics. If they were just friends why is he even in her head as a discussion topic. My friends I don't think about like that meaning they don't occupy space in my thoughts for them to be a regular conversation. The only time I will talk on someone is if they are more than friends. If it's a man I have a crush on I will go on and on about him. He's in my head so naturally he's who I discuss. This article was time to kill the rumors and we are just good friends would have killed the rumors. Yet we got how she always called them and she has called him friends before in other interviews. She played the same card she been playing. Talking about her relationship with him as special while calling him a friend. Why doesn't she just tell us they are just friends? Because that would be a lie they are more. So she skirts around the truth. Also no fan pages I have seen is anyone saying marriage we say we want them together or they are together. I haven't seen anyone mention marriage 👀. Interesting that's how she phrased the fans wants. Guys we are getting closer and closer to a reveal. Truth always has a way of coming out and their love they wont be able to hide forever.

💯

Y'all, she didn't have to mention L... AT ALL. And the marriage comment (DEFINITELY intentional). EVERYTHING she talked about in that article was intentional and approved of before it was released. She was never going to announce their relationship in the article, but she also can't totally shut down the rumors because they aren't "just friends". So she makes sure people know in this very important article (that really is about her accomplishments and really wasn't focusing on any type of Bridgerton promo) that L and her have a lot of love for each other and a "gorgeous friendship"... and mentions that a lot of people want her to marry LUKE. SHE. DID. NOT. HAVE. TO. SAY. THIS. I can't stress that enough. This interview was apparently done before the Emmy's in early September... A LOT has seemed to change publicly since then for L/N. The RINGS being one of the major ones 👀

This article is likely going to live "forever" and in it's original form. And she very intentionally mentioned TWO people in her personal life that she wanted to live in this article (ON TIME MAGAZINE). Her father, who was VERY important to her and a huge influence on her life, and... LUKEEEE. Like, y'all, just marinate on that for a few minutes. This doesn't read as my work bestie. This reads as someone who will likely be in her life for a LONG TIME.

She mentioned she is VERY aware that people ship the two of them. And when prompted to talk about her relationship with L (which she definitely agreed to in advance), she not only doesn't totally shut down rumors, she says a lot of "people" want her to marry L. I think that goes beyond just fans. And then in early October we see her move the claddagh on her left hand, and L just sort of randomly shows up in this pic at her house while she's getting ready for an event with a ring on his ring finger. And then they went to NY together on a vacation (and work for N at least). Like this just isn't subtle. And some people just refuse to look at the evidence/information that is being presented to us on this topic. And there is still some "secret" shoot she teased about where she was wearing a dress she wore multiple times on the tour with her claddagh rings on full display (and no other jewelry). Idk y'all, I have this feeling that when L/N publicly announce their relationship, they are going to have some BIG news to announce.

Side note: I just wanted to add... N is SOOO cool!! I like legit want to be like her when I'm 37 😍

[elliesglock]

AMARI LIVE ANALYSIS

okay hey bitches. again redoing my analyses so today we're doing on of my ogs. THE amari live. now this live is packed with details that are not super visible but if you pay attention you'll get rewarded. a lot of anons have asked me to put time stamps in my analyses so i shall from now on.

live begins and we see the arrangement of the beds. ice and ines on the bed, amari on the floor in front of the bed, and paige/azzi laying on the second bed. i wanna start off this analysis with one of my more delusional theories. lemme preface and say i have no idea who's room this was but in my head it was either p or azzi's. why do i believe this? in the beginning in the back you can say azzi's under the covers with her bonnet on. and in azzi universe that's bed time wear. she looks completely relaxed and it seems that she's obviously sharing this room with someone else. it could be paige's as well but either way azzi looks comfortable like as soon as they leave and end this live she'll STAY in that bed and probably not sleep 👀. either her and paige are gonna cuddle because they're already in that mode in this live or they're gonna spend some more time off camera before they have to go to their own rooms. just a little theory of mine, i'll prob come back to this a few times when i'm mentioning things that could prove this.

this whole live you can kinda tell azzi's still in that sleepy mode and every time p yells she looks way closer to a meltdown. not that dramatic but she looks so over it at times. which i get because this whole live paige is up and down, yelling, screaming acting like an ipad kid over lebron. and amari WILL not stop being messy with the comments which azzi is listening to and really not fucking w. at 5:53 we see paige yelling and screaming as usual, but when she goes back to the bed she's facing azzi and almost looking like she wants to lay on her. and she kinda does for a second imo. azzi prob gave her a face after she was yelling and she decided to calm down and cuddle her to say sorry for a second. the way her body language is when she sits down is almost like she's checking up on azzi cause her WHOLE body is turned to her when she sits down and her eyes are on her. usually turning your body towards someone shows a preoccupation with them. and when she lays down her leg comes up and her hips shift almost like she's rolling or laying on azzi 🥀. i'm so sorry girl ik that hurts. and lemme just say before i blow up the way they are acting this whole live is so coupley and IM OBSESSED. azzi getting annoyed, p being touchy as a sorry, paige rolling and laying all over her knowing she'd get yelled at if they weren't on camera. it's so coupley. during this time, amari's ass is so messy and reads out a comment that says "amari has a bf and paige has a gf." and i like to acknowledge ice because she can't hide her face and unfortunately becomes evidence all the time for pazzi nation. she very quickly goes "PAIGE DOESMT HAVE A GF" not even acknowledging the amari part. now it's hard to differentiate if it's because she sees a couple in front of her and paige's girlfriend and guiltily tries to lie terribly by just blurting that out, or if paige and azzi aren't together yet and she don't want anything to be started saying that...me personally i don't think pazzi were every acting different with or without the labels. so the second theory kinda doesn't matter to me. pazzi has always acted like a couple even when they weren't together, that was their problem. they were invested and from first glance had intimate tendencies while not being together. idk it's whatever yall wanna think about it i would love to hear your opinions. to me ice sounds really guilty and like she's trying to hide something. after this 6:11 p starts talking to az really softly for a moment and it might be her checking up on her again. that's how i feel. i feel like she's focused on her and talking to her to keep an eye. we know p's very perceptive to azzi and also protective.

also during this ice and amari but seem tense and start watching the camera, most likely because p and a are doing something in the back. 6:43 paige and azzi aren't involved in the convo between ice and ines, they're having their own convo most likely little spat. paige goes "azzi....are you serious? we can't do that." paige reveals that azzi wants her to play a game after ice kinda starts staring at them. it's such a cute thing to argue about. azzi wants to play with her girl and paige is like babe but lebron's on. 7:00-7:05 it seems like paige calms down and goes back to being occupied with azzi during the commercial breaks because as soon as the game comes back on she jumps from the bed and tells everyone to lock in. jus so domestic that when she's not watching she just wanna lay and talk to her girl. even though her girl wants her to play a game during lebron's legacy game. now if paige didn't wanna look nonchalant for the camera she'd DEF fold and play with az. who can resist? 7:22 now why tf this girl go back to azzi and kinda look like she sits on top

of her and starts teasing her. paige sorta starts cooing at her and almost sounds like she says "she so cuteeeee" maybe making fun of her pouting, and azzi responds "don't laugh at me" in a VERY pouty voice so idk the streets are saying p was smiling and teasing az for being pouty. idk how to describe it but p seems like teasy flirty in this live. i wanna say dom but im not trying to get sniped so teasy flirty it is. her energy gives she wants to squeeze azzi's cheeks and make fun of her for how cute she is. she acts like this when she gets back to the bed and it almost seems like she leans down in azzi's face and teases her some more. maybe azzi is still pouty but gets blushy? u can hear a little smile in azzi's voice. 7:25 ice clocks it and looks over probably seeing pazzi being cuddly and close to one another. so when amari looks back, ice looks at her as a sort of warning. therefore, amari shifts herself so she's covering pazzi. that just tells me they looked close enough to almost kissing each other or they were being flirty and ice wanted to make sure they were covered from cameras view. paige eventually locks back in and goes back to watching but i find it so cute she was obv very invested in the game but MUCH MORE invested in her girl at the end of the day. ice is still a little nervous obv because anytime paige moves she looks back to make sure she doesn't have to signal amari again. ice i can read ur mind pookie.

8:53 azzi says move! she's so over her but that's her girl and she's gonna stick beside her. guess all those apology cuddles from p went out the door the minute p stood back up cause paige doesn't even care anymore 🥀. 10:53 azzi says shush i'm trying to hearwhen p is talking. at times like this i feel like azzi is the only one who can talk to p like this cause ive never seen p BE QUIET when she's told to be quiet. like she don't even listen to geno but by god she's going to listen to her girl. mouth shuts too quick and ines almost seems like she wants to laugh at her parents. paige looks like a kicked puppy and keeps looking back at azzi afterwards. she's like bae you always let me yap whatttt 💔. but azzi is just princess to everyone cause she says be quiet EVERYBODY quiets down oooo that's a bad bitch. paige knows she got a baddie too cause she always listens to az. somebody in the comment says "yall afraid of azzi? nobody even on that bed with her..." which is so true because not even clingy ass PAIGE is with her so she knew her girl meant business. (16:14) amari is talking about the comments and saying how when azzi said shut up they all did. and paige pipes up (cause she's also the only one allowed to do this) and says because of lebron not because of azzi! u sure about that twin? ur voice is shaking a bit. also she was screaming when lebron was on so YES obv you shut up because of azzi u damn liar. final moment, we get the legendary moment where amari is being messy AGAIN (this is becoming a theme) where she reads and says "Paige someone is going to take you out to breakfast" and azzi is over ittttttttt. she said take my girl where??? she says "better not" in this tone that can be so easily spotted as jealousy. she genuinely is not fucking w the idea of someone having dates or wanting her girl at all. jealous azzi agenda come home we miss you in this drought. she's gotten more subtle with her menacy behavior but she will NOT allow anyone to hit on paige and ive always felt if someone tried to hit on her she'd be blunt asf and say that's my girlfriend btw.

kinda not edited at all sorry guys i'll go back and edit it. but it's longer than my original, happy reading! lmk your thoughts

[eviesaurusrex]

Though I'm just halfway through Iron Flame and don't know how Xaden turns into a venin and of like rest of the fandom and Vi, as of now we don't know the cure for it too. I stumbled upon some 'venin-cure' theories and one of it inspired this idea so hear me out.

Ik Xaden turned into a venin for Violet. As per theories, if he can become one for his love, he has come into the realization and give up what he took (the direct power).

Finally the idea: the reader is actually pregnant. It's up to you if Xaden knew it earlier or not but maybe like idk they're in a war zone or whatever situation, he was going to kill somebody or whatever and at that moment reader faces Xaden. Telling him that she's not going to fight him, she let go of her dagger or sword, trying to remind him of himself, showing him his ring still on her finger. When she sees him calming down, she may take his hand and touch her barely visible (or visible) belly, begging him to let go of the power, reminding him that he's in control of himself, begging him to come to her and their baby.

summary: After Xaden turned venin, YN tries everything in her power to get the love of her life—and the father of her unborn child—back.

word count: 5.3k (whoopsie-daisy)

warnings: dragons, injuries, weapons, blood, pregnant!YN, incorrect events, my lacking knowledge about the majority of IF and OS, my take on the venin topic, angst, survivor’s guilt, fluff, Brennan being the older brother type of friend, venin!Xaden, post-venin!Xaden

author’s note: Thank you for the ask, dear anon! I haven’t read Iron Flame and Onyx Storm yet (I’ve started with IF a couple days ago), so this is my take on the plot and has nothing to do with the actual plot in the books. I hope you enjoy my silly ideas! (And please, don’t come for my head :x) I'm sorry it took so long to get this thing done—I just couldn't stop writing. The dividers are made by @enchanthings-a!

Startled, YN woke with a gasp, her hand instinctively flying toward her lower abdomen, touching the tightly laced flight leathers, and took one steadying breath when she felt the still unfamiliar tiny bump one could easily miss. It wasn't broad knowledge that she expected a child because if so, no sane member of the squad would allow her to continue flying out with them, fighting with them. Only one person knew of her condition—the one person she couldn't hide a thing like that from, not when he was to keep mending her injuries after a particularly gruesome fight. He had felt it the second his hand had touched her shoulder, and there was nothing she could've said in order to convince him of being wrong about it.

She had known for a while.

But she had more pressing matters at hand not to think too closely about what this would mean in the foreseeable future.

Finally, YN realized what had woken her, and her eyes immediately jumped toward the commotion in the hallway, the door ajar and not fully closed. Voices echoed into the dim sitting room she had chosen a few hours ago when she had returned from her patrol on dragon back, her body aching and filled with exhaustion. Only a few hours and then you wake me again, she had told Violet and Mira, but obviously, neither of the women had respected her wish. Typical. The thought crossed her when YN pulled herself up, quietly grunting when her feet still burned, and her back still struck her with searing pain.

Sleeping on a couch wasn't the wisest of the ideas she had in the last couple of weeks.

"No, Violet," Brennan's voice suddenly cut the air in a tone one rarely witnessed the eldest Sorrengail use. "But—" Violet tried to interfere, and with quiet steps, YN rounded the coffee table, heart galloping in her ribcage. "I said No." Another voice entered the conversation the woman had a hunch was about her. "She'd want to know, Brennan. If the report is true, it's Xaden, and we're talking about YN, for heaven's sake. She'd want to know," Garrick almost hissed behind the door, and her heart rate sped up even more, her breath hitching.

Xaden…?

The Sorrengail practically growled at that, and the shadow now stretching through the crack in the door was most definitely his as he stepped in front of it, blocking the way. "Let her sleep—she needs it. Have you seen her when she came back?! She isn't in the constitution to fly back into a battle which could easily end her life if it's really Xaden. Have you thought about that for just a second? What it would do to her? How distracting it would be because all she will think about is how to save him, but not herself?"

Brennan was right; even YN could admit that. But despite how much she had grown to like him—even love him as the brother she never had—he couldn't stop her from whatever she tried to accomplish, especially not when it happened to concern the one man she loved more than anything in this world. So it was easy to grab the sword resting against the armchair and push it into the sheath strapped across her back, the quiver and bow following closely.

The steps of her boots echoed through the room, not caring if anyone would hear her because she would be gone before they'd realize she had been awake to overhear them. She knew Riorson House better than her own home, so it was easy to open the double-sided windows into the morning hours of the day barely beginning, the sky tinted a pretty hue of pink and red. Her feet found the stone edge of the windowsill, and her hands grabbed onto the sturdy vines climbing across this side of the house, and with a grace she didn't feel like having in her tired body anymore, YN swung herself into the green and climbed down, disappearing into the city.

Her mind opened further and searched for the bond to her dragon, feeling his dark presence in the back of her mind, his focus sharp and unyielding. "Are we off to another battle, Stormy One?" If the situation were different, YN would probably huff at the silly nickname the dark beast had given her even before her signet had manifested. "Yes—and I don't want to hear a single word about not being allowed to do so anymore. I'm not made of glass all of a sudden." She would never sit behind just to please others, not when the happiness of her future was hinging by an almost nonexistent thread.

YN would never leave him behind in the dirt, having to fend and fight for himself like he had done for so long. No, she would move heavens and earths in order to find the one thing that would bring him back.

The dragon huffed into her mind, displeasure evident. "I am not one of your human friends, girl. I may not feel entirely content with flying into battles while you are carrying a child, but I will protect you both. Nothing will happen to either you or the little one." His words hung heavy between them; not only a fickle promise but a vow. "I will hold you to that," her voice only a whisper, her hand gently touching the leathers across her belly when she reached the outskirts of the city where the dragons rested.

Tairn was already in front of them, Sgaeyl right next to him, and both dragons watched the woman stepping closer, determination evident on YN's face. "It is him, girl, isn't it?" Her voice flooded her mind, and YN stopped before the blue daggertail, nodding at her question. "Yes." It was as simple as that. "I do not know how you gather all this hope in your heart, and I do not need to understand it. But if one can find a cure and bring him back, it is you, storm wielder." Swallowing, YN stretched one hand out when Sgaeyl lowered her proud head and pressed the side of it against the small palm, warmth seeping into her skin at the contact of the blue scales. "I cannot lose hope. I won't. Not with so much at stake."

It wasn't just her life that could be ruined if she failed, but the life of her unborn child as well. She didn't want the tiny being growing inside her to grow up without a father, without the man YN had learned to love so deeply; it seemed impossible at the beginning. This baby had a right to know their extraordinary father—not just through stories and whispered tales behind closed doors.

The ring resting on her left finger felt heavy at that moment; the promise they had made to one another was almost like a burden on her shoulders. If Xaden couldn't carry it, she would do it for both of them until they stood in front of a priest, blessing their union, and making them one in the eyes of the gods.

"YNN—fuck!"

The shouted curse made her turn, blinking against the rising sun to find Garrick stumbling uphill, almost losing his footing in the dewy grass. "YN!" His eyes found her when he stumbled across a stone, and his massively built body was almost floored to the ground. "And that one is bonded to Chradh?" Sgaeyl growled without a flicker of humor, but YN knew—the blue daggertail meant it that way. She had it in her—somewhere. At least Tairn huffed in amusement for a moment before his protectiveness demanded its place, and he took one earth-shaking step forward, growling in warning when Garrick finally reached them.

The brunet watched both dragons with raised hands before he stared at YN, almost pleadingly. Icy coldness flooded her body, and she slowly shook her head. "No," she said definitively. "You won't make me stay." She turned, ready to climb Tairn's leg and leave Aretia behind, flying into battle just like the other riders already in the skies. The sound of his steps made her stop with her hands on the black scales, followed by the words she didn't anticipate. "I'd never dream of it, YNN. I want to come with you." Turning again, the woman watched him, one of her closest friends, trying to decipher if he truly meant it. "You want to come with me?" It sounded more surprised than she had initially planned, and he seemed relieved by her question. "Yes. I know you have Tairn, and you don't need more protection than that, but let me be by your side, watching your back. Just in case. I want to help however I can because that's…—that's what Xaden would want me to do."

Hurt flashed inside her very being at the sound of his name, at the reminder of what she had lost all those weeks ago during the attack when he had tried to protect her with everything that he was, paying the ultimate price for her safety. It was her fault. YN knew that, and everyone around her knew it, too.

Swallowing against the all-consuming pain threatening to push the tears back into her eyes, YN slowly nodded, stepping closer and letting him pull her into a tight hug. "Thank you," was all she whispered into the leather protecting his chest, feeling a kiss pressed to the crown of her head. "We will find a way."

He couldn't possibly know that, and still, it warmed her heart that she wasn't the only one clinging to hope.

The sun had almost risen to its zenith when they finally arrived at the battlefield, already littered with bodies—both human and venin—and without having to tell Garrick her plan, he followed close when Tairn dove into a fall to rip a wyvern off of a green dragon and its rider. Chradh was close behind in order to grip onto the wyvern's wing, holding it in place with Tairn, and Garrick shielded his eyes as soon as he saw YN raising both her hands, calling for her signet. The energy gathering above her charged the air around them, and when she felt the now familiar sensation of it tickling her skin, she let the lightning loose, aiming at the venin screaming on their dragon and eradicating them in a silver flash, burned to the bones. The wyvern's distressed sounds quieted when its rider died, and both dragons let it fall toward the ground, roaring triumphantly.

YN's breath had grown shallow at the power cursing through her, feeling it eating on her energy and strength, but she couldn't stop. Not until she had found Xaden among their enemies.

"We need to find him!" She shouted over the fighting noise around them, echoing off the mountains surrounding the valley. Garrick all but nodded and let his dragon fly to the side of the valley, flying wide circles over the terrain. YN did just that as well, letting Tairn choose his own part of the area, knowing he would look out for any enemies to destroy them with her while also searching for his mate's rider.

After almost an hour, the woman pressed herself flat on her dragon, trying to catch her breath. "I don't know how long I can do this," she let the black shadow carrying her know even though he had already sensed it. "I know, Stormy One. You did well." His deep, rumbling voice was comforting in her mind, warm even at the praise. "We should not encounter much more, I promise. They are fleeing like rats," he informed her after another bend around the valley, the mountainside towering right next to them, and indeed, the commotion of the fighting grew fainter with each passing moment.

At least until Tairn roared in warning and leaped into a free fall, making YN scream in surprise before she gathered her wits again and pressed herself even tighter against the black scales underneath her, holding on tight onto the pommel of hardened dragon skin, tears straining her eyes despite the flying goggles protecting them. "Chradh," was all her dragon pushed into her mind for an explanation, and immediately, worry filled her. "Garrick," she whispered into the strong winds trying to push her off of her dragon, but her body was trained into perfecting flying, holding her right where she belonged as Tairn roared anew and spat out a wall of fire, separating Garrick and his dragon as he fought off a venin and their wyvern.

With a fighting scream herself, YN let the lightning gather its strength above them before it rained down on their enemies, the impact throwing the brunet several feet away, but the venin crumbled into dust, and the wyvern died in the dirt next to them. Without waiting for Tairn to land fully, she climbed off her seat and slid off his back, the jump straining her knees when she hit the ground and almost tumbled face-first into the grass but gathered her balance in the last moment. "Garrick!" YN shouted for him as she started to run, crossing the distance through the cloud of sand, dirt, and smoke, coughing when she finally passed it with a hand covering her nose and mouth.

The glint of a sword in the sunlight was the first and only warning she would get, her body and mind moving on instinct alone—her own sword drawing as she leaped into the space between a passed-out Garrick and his attacker, and the horrible sound of clashing sharpened steel traveled across the valley when they stood head to head. It took a moment too long for YN to realize the recognition coursing through her when her eyes wandered across the opposing steel, taking in the intricate runes hammered into the surface.

She knew those runes. She had seen them numerous times when she had watched him cleaning and polishing his sword in the courtyard of Basgiath or their bedroom in Aretia. She had memorized them every time she had watched him train with one of their squad mates. She had kissed each and every one for strength and protection before he had been sent off into battle.

Her gaze jumped, traveling in dragon speed up the familiar body while her heart stopped for several long beats; the organ clenching painfully in her chest when she reached his handsome face, now lined with red veins, his once onyx eyes now tinted an angry shade of red.

She had done that to him.

Only because of her very existence did Xaden take too much and turn into their worst nightmare.

It's all my fault.

The sentence echoed through her mind, bouncing off the walls in every direction possible, making the pain and the loss almost unbearable.

Their swords still met between their bodies, pushing against one another in a silent fight, both staring into each other's eyes, unmoving. "Xaden," slipped past her lips in a desperate plea, trying to make him realize who she was, what she once had been to him not that long ago. The red in his eyes grew in its intensity at the sound of her voice, and he bared his teeth to her, growling, but he didn't use his entire strength to push her blade into moving toward her very own throat. "Xaden, please. You know who I am—I know somewhere in there is a part of you that knows me, just how I know you." It was merely a hope in the form of a silly blade of grass she clung onto now because she couldn't possibly know what still lived inside him and what had died that day. Sgaeyl wouldn't tell her if Xaden still communicated with her because this would ultimately mean that some part of him had survived.

Tears spilled over her cheeks, and her hands around the hilt of her sword started to shake at the strain in her muscles, forcing a sob out of her. "I have to believe that something remains in you, Xaden. Something I can fight for. You did this for me; you fought to keep me safe and alive, and now it's my turn to do the same. Do you understand me?" He leaned in closer for a heartbeat or two, taking her in, but not a single word left his lips. "I would never abandon our promise," YN whispered, and with one final push, she threw her sword away, somewhere to her right, way out of reach. Tairn tried to invade her mind, but all she could do was block him out.

She couldn't do this.

Her hope shriveled into a meager little sapling, prepared to turn brown and die.

Pulling off the ring Xaden had gifted her six months ago during a starry night filled with laughter and love, she held it up between them, the light blue aquamarine—his birthstone—catching the sunlight. "You gave this to me as a promise of a future together when all this is over. I promised you the same in return—a life filled with joy and happiness because that's what you deserve." He paused at that; only for a moment, but it was there, she knew it. "I won't fight you because I keep my promises. I always have."

Slowly, YN raised her other hand, pulling the bow and quiver off her back and letting it tumble to her feet; her daggers, strapped across both ribs and thighs, followed close. He watched her with an almost unnerving intensity and made her skin crawl, but it was still Xaden—somewhere deep down, it had to be him. Vulnerable as she was, she didn't expect him to raise his sword again, not when he had been almost calm, and she knew she would die—just like her hope and her baby. Their little one.

Another tear slid down her face when YN kept staring into his eyes, not letting him out of sight. He seemed to struggle against his own mind, his muscles flexing and trying to fight off whatever it was. The sword came closer and closer, the sharp blade almost nudging the skin at her neck when his movements stopped anew, his breathing hard and fast, and a droplet of sweat rolling down his temple.

"I won't fight you, Xaden," YN whispered again, never breaking their gazes, never moving an inch away from the death sentence that was his blade. "I have loved you for so long, and I will love you even after my death." Nothing in this world or beyond could take that away from her, not even Xaden himself.

One of her hands wrapped itself around the deathly steel, and YN didn't even flinch when she cut herself; the pain immediate and burning, the blood trailing down it, catching at the runes on its way to follow gravity. His eyes widened a fraction, now watching her blood, her injured hand, his chest heaving. She gripped the sword tighter, the red of her life essence spilling between her fingers, marking the moment when the sword he had sworn would always protect her, hurt her. "Look at me, Xaden." It was both a demand and a plea, and Xaden looked back at her, something like shadows curling in his red irises. "I know you're still in there, Xaden Riorson. Somewhere a part of you has survived, a part that did not succumb to the power, that could not hold on to it."

Gritting her teeth, YN pulled at the sword, feeling the steel digging deeper into her flesh, more blood seeping out of the wound, drenching her arm, and she only stopped when she felt it right against her neck, resting on the vulnerable vein pulsing right underneath her skin. She knew she couldn't cling long enough to this life to be saved when the man she loved decided to nick the skin, and she would pay the ultimate price in her pursuit of saving him.

She watched as Xaden's swirling eyes jumped to the point where they were joined, watching the blood trickle down, watching her hurt herself for him. His still handsome face contorted in confusion, in agony, in despair; the emotions so clear and almost palpable, YN could reach out and feel the pain radiating off his body.

"I know you can let go of it, Xaden. You are so strong, so incredibly brave. You overcame things no human being should even have to overcome. You are the best of all of us, you carry the burden and still live for a codex only the worthiest of men can live up to."

He was so close now that she could feel his warmth through her flight leathers, feel that ratchet power cursing through him.

"You never wanted this, you never strive for the absolute power, Xaden. This is my fault, and I would happily accept this burden if it means freeing you from it." A quiet sob forced its way out over her lips, and Xaden bent infinitesimally closer, the shadows claiming more of his eyes, fighting against the venin-red in a bitter fight for dominance. YN wanted to kneel in front of him, to beg every deity, every power in this world for guidance, for help, but instead, she continued to stare up at him, continued to bleed for him.

Perhaps she would pay the ultimate price for being too hopeful.

Shakily inhaling, her other hand softly, gently touched his wrist, feeling the warm skin, the electricity still dancing between them whenever they touched. "I need you," was all she could whisper when she had coaxed his hand from the corded hilt of his sword, his arm easy to maneuver in her hold as if his mind had to fight its battle without forcing him to withstand and fight everything he faced in reality. "We need you, Xaden."

There wouldn't be a kick for a long while, but the swell of her belly was unmistakably palpable for a hand as big as Xaden's, for fingers so long they almost entirely covered her front. Without moving or even breathing, her eyes watched him gazing down at their point of contact, skin touching skin, and his eyes flashed red, but his hand didn't move from her stomach, from where they had created something magical without knowing it.

"Please… Let go of it, my love. If not for me then for them. They deserve to know their incredible father. They deserve to grow up in a household filled with love, laughter, and strength. They deserve to know you."

Xaden's fingers that were pressed into the leather covering her body slightly flexed at those words, the red still warring against the shadows trying to reclaim their master, the veins pulsing angrily at the sheer force of power trying to eat him alive. His sword shook in her hand, and when he let go of the hilt, YN quickly abandoned her own hold on it, cupping his face in her hands, her warm blood covering his cheek. A deep growling groan escaped him as she pulled him down towards her, holding him right there, their foreheads pressed to one another.

"You are in control of yourself, Xaden—you always have been. Don't stop now when we need you the most." Whispering against his lips, YN kissed him despite everything, his hands flexing around her wrists and his lips moving in muted words, tears streaming down his face.

"Let go."

It was her last and final plea—perhaps both Zihnal and Dunne had mercy on them. Maybe it was sheer will. Despite not knowing what had changed, YN didn't question it when the mountain of a man fell to his knees and looked up at the sky, crying tears of blood and salt, an anguished battle cry escaping him. The force of power exploding around him pushed her backward, and instinctively, YN wrapped her arms protectively around her middle when she hit the hard, unyielding ground and rolled over stones and weapons before lying completely still.

Blinking against the ache and pain inside her body, she waited for something—anything.

And then—movements. Crunching stone under moving limbs and a deep sob traveling across the short distance.

“No. No, no, no, no! YN!”

She couldn't move, not daring to do so, when his oh-so-familiar voice entered her ears, and his warm body settled behind her, his warm hands grabbing her shoulders to gently roll her over. Coughing against the settling dust and squinting against the bright sky, YN looked up into his hovering face, one of his hands now cradling her neck and pulling her into his lap, sheltering her with his broad body.

"Xaden…?"

Another sob escaped him, tears of blood still streaming down his face where vein after vein slowly retreated, and the red in his irises being swallowed whole by the familiar onyx black specked with flecks of gold and amber. She still couldn't grasp it, not until his hand raised hers to his lips, kissing one blood-stained knuckle after the other.

"It's really you," YN whispered and smiled tiredly, her own tears leaking from the corner of her eyes. His nod was all but a confirmation; her hope starting to blossom into something more sturdy and permanent. "Whatever you did, it pushed the part of my soul still left behind to fight harder than before." His voice was hoarse from the lack of use, but he kept her close to his chest, ignoring the shakiness in his arms. "Thank you." It was barely a mumble, but she still heard it despite the sounds from behind them.

"Don't you dare drag me again like some kind of massive bone! YN! Hey, woah. No, no, no! Stop killing your wife!" Xaden rose with her in his arms and turned to a reawakened Garrick, staring dumbfounded at his best friend. "Don't be mad at him," YN all but whispered softly, trying herself on a smile for their friend as he shortened the distance between them and took them both in, eyes widening and mouth almost agape. "I'm not." And still, she could clearly hear the hurt in his rough voice, which would take time to disappear. She would be there, though. For everything that might come in the aftermath, whatever he needed to overcome to close this chapter.

Tairn growled when his massive body landed, and his burning eyes settled on them. "I will not allow you to commit such miscalculated stupidity again, girl. I will not tolerate it! And do not dear block me out ever again!" Too exhausted to argue with the angry black dragon, YN all but nodded and allowed Xaden and him to carry her onto her seat, wanting to escape this place as soon as possible.

She needed to bring Xaden home and far away from here—so that's what they did.

The sensation of soft sheets was the first thing he picked up on when sleep finally evaded him, and he woke with a groan. Even softer hands, one wrapped in something aching to a bandage, immediately took one of his hands between hers, and the mattress dipped slightly when her weight settled onto its edge. He knew without looking that it was YN right at his side, just where she had been when he first arrived back at Riorson House, half delusional from the exhaustion.

Home.

When he opened his eyes, Xaden groaned yet again at the brightness filtering through the windows, the curtains barely containing the light from a properly beautiful day outside these walls, and blinking, his eyes searched for her face. He found her immediately, the worry-etched lines between her soft brows deepening, but still, she tried to cover it up with her smile illuminating his entire world.

His heart ached when he thought about what she had been through—what they had been through—he barely could look into her eyes even though he knew there was not a single trace of accusation to be found. Yet, he felt guilt eating at him for putting her into this situation, the danger. Xaden once had vowed to protect her with all that he was, and all he had—and that vow had been turned to dust.

"Hi." Her soft whisper, still edged by insecurity and disbelief, pulled the Riorson back, made his mind shut up in an instant as it pinpoint-focused on her. "Hi," was his quiet return, and both squeezed their hands simultaneously, pulling strength out of the small touch. "How are you feeling? Are you thirsty?" Already trying to pull away to fill the glass waiting on his bedside table, Xaden stopped her with another squeeze of her fingers, making her look back at him. "I'm all right," he promised because, despite the exhaustion still rattling his body and his muscles feeling weak unlike ever before, he was all right. More so than that.

He finally felt like himself again. And she was the sole reason that he still was here.

Gently coaxing her bandaged hand closer to him, the man pressed a gentle kiss to the covered palm. His memories from that day were foggy at best, but he vividly remembered seeing her blood spill—it was the moment when he dared to fight harder than he had ever done so in his life to get back to her.

"I'm so sorry."

His voice grew raspy and even deeper, the distress clinging to his words. He did all that to her. To them.

"Don't you dare apologize for something you would never choose willingly, for something you couldn't control, Xaden Riorson. I won't allow it." Her words came immediately, and he sucked in a deep breath, feeling her hand gently cradling his face, the pad of her thumb caressing his cheek. He felt his eyes as they grew glassy, and blinking against it, Xaden pulled her hand off his face to press it against his steadily beating heart while his eyes traveled down her body until his gaze rested heavily on the barely there curve of her stomach.

"How are you?"

A soft laugh escaped YN at his question, making his lips twitch in growing joy. "We're okay. More than that now that you're with us." Lacing their fingers, YN let his hand cover the tiny bump hidden behind her flowy tunic, sighing deeply when Xaden's fingers flexed above it. "I think I heard Brennan shouting in the hallway last night," the Riorson mused, watching her roll her pretty eyes. "He spilled the secret, and now everyone knows of my… condition. That's what he did."

They both knew the Sorrengail only acted from a place of worry and love; YN didn't have to spell it out for him.

"I'm glad there was someone who took care of you and the little one when I couldn't," Xander murmured, making her look at him. "But I am here now. I will renew my vow to always protect you and our child, mo chroi. You two are my home, my everything." His voice broke at the last word, and she was there immediately, claiming her place at his side, allowing him to wrap her in his arms, pulling her incredibly close. Xaden felt her soft, warm lips press gentle kisses along his neck and jaw, like the touches of butterfly wings when they strove too close and her fingers buried into the short hair at the nape of his neck. "You are our everything, too, Xaden," YN whispered back, gently coaxing him to look at her where she was pressed to his body, her head resting comfortably on his shoulder. "Whatever comes, we will be a family. We will be one. I will protect you with everything that I have and everything that I am—you and our child."

Those words still amazed the Riorson, his mind still reeling every time he dared to think or speak them, not yet entirely at ease with the thought of their existence in this world filled with war, battles, and enemies. But he would protect them—he would protect them with his life.

Nothing would come between him and his family.

Never again.

Thank you so much for reading! Please consider leaving a like, a reblog, and a comment—it would mean the world to me <3

[moonselune]

I'm not the same anon who requested for BG3 ladies being jealous with gn!Tav but could I request for the same prompt with Halsin, Rolan, and Raphael?

I am such a sucker for these jealous prompts hehe

Halsin:

Halsin stood at the edge of the clearing, watching as another druid, a younger and enthusiastic one, guided you through the intricacies of natural magic. Initially, he appreciated the help and the camaraderie among his kin. However, the other druid's overly keen interest in you began to grate on his nerves. He observed the way the younger druid's eyes lingered on you, the way he touched your arm a bit too often under the guise of instruction.

As the younger druid placed a hand on your shoulder, leaning in to explain something with a little too much enthusiasm, Halsin's patience finally snapped. With a calm but commanding stride, he approached the two of you, his presence imposing and undeniable.

"Enough," Halsin's voice was firm, his eyes locking onto the younger druid. "Thank you for your assistance, but your presence is no longer required."

The younger druid stammered, clearly taken aback by Halsin's sudden assertiveness. "B-but Archdruid Halsin, I was just-"

"I said enough, have you no respect for your Archdruid?" Halsin's tone brooked no argument. The younger druid quickly apologised and excused himself and retreated, leaving you and Halsin alone.

You looked at Halsin, a mixture of surprise and concern on your face. "Halsin, my darling, what was that about?"

Halsin took a deep breath, his expression softening as he turned to you. "I apologize, my heart, if I overstepped, but his intentions were not entirely pure. I could not stand by and let him disrespect you."

"Oh really? Definitely not because a certain bear of mine is feeling a bit jealous?" You mischievously smiled as you stepped towards him, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his protective nature. You placed your hands on his chest and looked up at him.

He stalled, his eyes darting as he tried to think of something to say. "I uh-"

"-Because it's not often 'Archdruid Halsin' comes out," You continue to tease, and you saw him blush, you laughed and pinched his cheek, going on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. "I kind of like him."

"Oh really?" Halsin smirked, placing his hands on your hips. His demeanour more relaxed knowing you were not upset with him.

"Really." You affirmed, pressing your lips to his once more, Halsin pulled you into the embrace, his large hand cradling the back of your head as he deepened the kiss. Not caring who was around, he picked you up and you happily wrapped your legs around his waist and he walked you to your shared quarters where the Archdruid was to make another appearance.

Rolan:

Rolan watched from a distance, his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowing as another magic user, an enchanter, flirted with you under the pretext of discussing magical theories. The enchanter's smooth words and charming smile made Rolan's blood boil. He tried to remain composed, but the sight of the enchanter leaning in closer to you, laughing at your jokes, and subtly touching your hand was too much to bear.

Rolan's fingers twitched, his magic simmering just beneath the surface. He knew he had to intervene, but he wanted to do so without making a scene. As the enchanter leaned in even closer, Rolan made his move. With a subtle flick of his wrist, he cast a minor spell, creating an illusion of a sudden downpour over the enchanter.

The enchanter yelped in surprise, stumbling back as he was drenched in the illusory rain. You turned, equally surprised, and saw Rolan standing there, a satisfied smirk on his face. The enchanter quickly excused himself, muttering about needing to dry off, and fled the scene.

You approached Rolan, your brow furrowed in confusion. "Rolan, did you do that?"

Rolan shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "He was bothering you. I thought it was time he left."

You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head. "You know, you could have just asked him to leave."

Rolan's expression softened, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Maybe, but this way was more fun." He reached out and took your hand, his grip warm and reassuring. "Come on, let's go somewhere quieter."

"Okay, jealous," You smirked, bumping into his shoulder as you walked hand in hand.

"Me? Jealous of that pathetic display?" Rolan laughed but you could tell behind his bravado there was a modicum of insecurity, and you pecked your lips onto his cheek. He couldn't help but blush and squeezed your hand, "Come, let me show you some real magic."

Raphael:

Raphael watched from a distance, his sharp eyes narrowing as another cambion, a rival, fawned over you. The cambion's smooth words and flirtatious behavior made Raphael's blood boil. He could see the discomfort in your eyes, but you were too polite to outright reject the advances.

Raphael's patience wore thin as the cambion continued to push his luck, his hand reaching out to touch your arm. In an instant, Raphael was beside you, his presence commanding and filled with a dark aura.

"Is there a problem here?" Raphael's voice was cold, his eyes glaring at the cambion.

The rival cambion's confidence faltered under Raphael's intense gaze. "I was just talking to-"

"You were pestering," Raphael interrupted, his tone dripping with menace. "And I do not appreciate anyone making my beloved uncomfortable."

With a snap of his fingers, Raphael summoned a portal, its fiery edges crackling ominously. "I think it's time you returned to where you belong."

The cambion barely had time to react before he was sucked into the portal, sent back to the pits of hell. You looked at Raphael, both relieved and slightly unnerved by his swift and brutal reaction.

"Raphael, was that really necessary?" you asked, your voice tinged with light concern. Someone in your relationship had to be empathetic.

Raphael's expression softened as he turned to you, his hand gently cupping your cheek. "No one disrespects you in my presence. I would do anything to protect you."

"Or do you mean nobody flirts with me in your presence? Don't think I can't see through your little valiant act..." You commented, you couldn't help but relish in the idea that Raphael was jealous. Though you were quick to add your appreciation for his intervention.

"Oh dearest, you're mine, and if the nine hells don't already know that.. well, something has to be done." Raphael purred as he pulled you towards him, crashing his lips into yours before you could dwell on exactly what he meant by that.

Hope y'all enjoyed it ! - Seluney xox

[loveqnai]

hiii loveyy!! i loved your oscar fic smmm 😭

could you please write one with oscar where the actress!reader gets injured while shooting an action scene in a marvel or any movie?? and then he gets all worried and takes care of her 🥹

its okay if you don't want to!!! love your work 🎀

mini incident | op81

-the one with the stunt injury

-pairing- oscar piastri x fem!reader

-use of y/n, injury description, slight angst, overall fluff

-a/n- thank you sm for the request anon!! and i'm glad you liked the oscar fic!

you had always been the one to do your own stunts, unless it was something very extreme. you enjoyed the thrill of doing your own stunts and watching yourself on the screen. oscar admired you for that, but that also meant constant worry and anxiety for him.

working in marvel films had its own glory, but the stunts were no joke. of course you had your own stunt double, but today, you had decided to do your own scene.

"are you sure? it's a little risky." cate, your director asked.

"i'll be fine." you gave her a smile. it's not like you were going in unprepared. you had been trained by your stunt coordinator for this particular scene.

some stunt performers helped you gear up, making sure you were secure. you were wearing a full body harness, since it was a height stunt.

you were supposed to run and jump off a roof to another, and fight off a few stunt performers. the tricky part? you had to do a flip mid air and strike your character's 'iconic pose' when you land. it didn't seem too difficult in theory, having done stunts like this before. but this time it felt too real.

the building felt too high, the safety gears felt loose on you, the wind felt too strong against you, the other roof felt too far away. you were in a daze, trying to calm down and convince yourself that you could do it. in the daze, you didn't realize when cate said 'action!' and you didn't get time to prepare yourself mentally.

you ran across the roof and jumped. the harness pulled you upwards and you flipped mid air. everything was going perfectly, until it all went downhill.

you timed your landing incorrectly, and your chin collided with the parapet wall of the other roof. immense pain is what you felt for a few seconds, and then nothing.

you were hanging mid air, not moving. panic settled amongst the crew members and your co-stars. you were brought to the ground, immediately treated by the medics on set.

the hard blow on your chin had jolted your brain, causing you to temporarily pass out. lily, your co-star, wasted no time in calling oscar, your boyfriend.

oscar had just gotten out of a meeting, and was thrilled to see your contact pop up on his phone. he really needed to hear your voice after hours of listening to monotonous voices.

"hey love, thank god you called—" he started, but immediately paused after hearing lily's panicked voice on the other end.

"oscar, this is lily. y/n, she passed out while doing a stunt and its all bloody here, just— please come." and oscar did just that.

he wasted no time and reached the hospital you were taken to. he was still in his mclaren merch when he reached.

"where is she?" he asked lily in a frenzy.

"she's inside, she's awake and okay now. you can go inside."

oscar entered the hospital room to find you laying on the bed, phone in one hand and a bowl of fruits in the other. you were still in your costume, except there was a bandage on your chin. you looked up and your eyes immediately lit up on seeing your boyfriend.

"oscar!" you called out. oscar made his way to your side and took your hand in his, gently hugging you. he made sure not to touch any of your wounds.

"are you okay? how did this happen?" he asked softly, planting kisses on your forehead.

"i don't know, i was doing a stunt and i didn't time my landing correctly. and then this happened." you pointed towards your chin. oscar shook his head.

you were discharged an hour later and oscar offered to take you home. your shoot had been postponed for the next week. you couldn't help but feel guilty.

you noticed oscar had been quiet the entire ride home. in fact, he hadn't spoken in the hospital either— only talking when needed. when you reached home, you finally confronted him about it.

"oscar, what's wrong?" you asked as you sat beside him.

"nothing, why?" he replied quietly, not looking at you. you gently cupped his cheek and made him face you.

"what's wrong?" you asked again, softer this time. he eyed your bandage and you knew what was going on in his head.

"i was really scared. i thought something really bad happened to you when lily called," he started.

"you need to stop putting yourself in danger all the time, y/n. you have stunt doubles— its their job that you do. please, for my sake, don't do these risky stunts." he pleaded as he took both your hands in his.

"it's my job too, oscar. sometimes i have to do these stunts, that's what i've signed up for."

"small stunts, i understand. but what about the serious ones? where you have to jump from building to building or jump off of a fucking chopper? that's not for you to do!"

"i've never even jumped off a chopper!"

"you could!" he argued.

you didn't say anything, you just hugged him tightly and he hugged you right back.

"i'm okay love. i'll always be. please don't worry about me. it was just a mini incident."

"how can i not worry? how did they even let this happen, i don't understand— they're supposed to have safety gears," oscar gently used his index finger to tilt your chin up, taking a look at your wound.

"i had safety gear on, it wasn't supposed to happen but hey— at least i'm alive." you half-joked.

"shut up."

"no, actually. lily said i was hanging mid-air— like i was actually gone,"

"don't say that!" he gasped slightly. for a moment you both were staring into each other's eyes, then oscar leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on your lips.

"promise me something."

"what?"

"you won't ever jump off a chopper."

"what is it with you and choppers?"

the end

[dekariosclan]

Can i ask? İn durge playthrough when you confess as bhaalspawn why is it when other charachters give you heartfelt reactions and long monolouges where-areas when you confess to gale he is non caring? İt seems out charachter, his answer is so short. Do you have headcanons for that? Or any theories on why Gale seems to give such simple basic answer upon hearing his lover is bhaals chosen?

What a great question anon! I do have some thoughts on this.

So, Gale’s response when Tav reveals they have discovered the truth about themselves at last, and that they are a Bhaalspawn, is as follows:

Gale: A Bhaalspawn? Gosh.

Gale: I know what it is to have a closer connection than most with the gods. But with Bhaal…that’s not a bond I’d like to be bound with. You should be careful. Very, very careful.

———

Anon, I think you hit the nail on the head when you said, “It seems out of character, his answer is so short.” I’ve seen lots of reactions that are the same as yours from people wondering why he doesn’t say more.

Here’s the thing about Gale: 99% of the time he’s a professional yapper, right? It’s what we love about him.

But do you know when Gale isn’t yapping? Do you know when he gets quiet, and only offers very short, direct sentences? It’s when he’s emotionally invested, and the situation is a serious one.

When Astarion threatens Tav with a knife, Gale doesn’t offer a lengthy list of threats or reasons Astarion shouldn’t do that, he just states a fact: “If you use that knife, I will incinerate you.”

When a romanced Tav/Durge is struggling to try and avoid killing Gale, his response isn’t to argue or babble on, it’s to offer short, calm instruction: “You can rein this in — nobody’s getting hurt” / “You’re not out of the woods yet, stay focused”, etc.

And when he and Tav make love in Act 2, in either the Astral or bed version, Gale stops talking as soon as they get physical. It becomes all about his actions rather than his words.

In short, it’s when Gale gets quiet that you know something has affected him deeply. So I actually think his response here is rather fitting—he’s so surprised that he can only come up with a one-word reply.

But I also think his follow-up warning is revealing, too. You can see he’s concerned from his expression and hear it in the gravity of his words. He knows better than anyone what it means to be tied to a god, how hard it is to break away, AND that there are consequences for doing so. So he doesn’t mince words, joke, or sugarcoat anything, because he’s worried about what this means for Tav…and what it means for him and the other companions, too. Because unless Gale has very low approval, he is ride-or-die; and if Tav accepts Bhaal and becomes the Slayer, Gale will still stay by their side, and make the best of it, come what may.

But if Tav is smart, and they heed Gale’s warning to be careful and choose to reject Bhaal, Gale will express how relieved he is.

…and notice, he’s back to his usual, loquacious self:

Gale: Your new lease on life suits you rather well. What do you and your newborn vitality require of me?

Gale: Nothing like ridding oneself of a God’s unwanted influence to lighten the load on your shoulders.

Gale: I wasn’t sure if we’d lose you to that darkness entirely. I’m glad to know you’ve found your way back to us.

[thoughtfulfiction]

Balancing Acts

Author’s Note: Anon requested this over a year ago but better late than never?

A Midsummer Night's Dream.

Some might think it too 'in your face' or 'overplayed’. They might think it too safe for a show meant to inspire awe. But to you, it seemed...right. A garden brimming with flowers and mystical creatures, tangled in romance and mischief. There's passion in it. It’s bold and colorful and…unpredictable. It's the kind of story that makes your heart beat faster, where danger dances with desire, and the outcome is never quite certain.

That’s what you wanted to capture.

Your job was simple in theory, but far from easy in practice. Research the concept, shape it into an immersive visual experience, and curate pieces that would breathe life into your chosen theme. Find artists who understood the delicate balance of whimsy and chaos, match their works with complementary pieces, and then somehow make it all flow together in a space big enough to handle the magic. Coordinate transportation. Manage fragile egos. Decide what would be shipped to the gallery in Los Angeles to stay and commemorate the moment and what would be auctioned off at a later date.

This project was your baby, your first real chance to prove yourself, not just as an art curator but as a leader. Your team here in Oregon was counting on you. There was no way you weren't about to pour every ounce of yourself into this opportunity.

Justin understood that. He always had.

He admired the fire in you, the way you threw yourself into your work with the same relentless focus he brought to football. That was what drew him in the most, the hunger you both carried. The belief that success didn’t just happen; it had to be earned. He loved that you didn’t need him to rearrange his life for you, that you both had your own ambitions but still chose to carve out time for each other because you wanted to.

It worked...until it didn’t.

During the season, your busy schedules had made your moments together feel sacred. When time was scarce, it felt precious. But now? Now that the season was over and Justin had more free time than he knew what to do with, that perfect balance you’d once found seemed to be slipping. While he was filling his days with extra workouts and deep dives into film, you were drowning in meetings, mood boards, and late-night calls with artists across the country.

You both knew what dedication looked like—but knowing didn’t make it any easier.

The arguments started small.

The bathroom light was still on when Justin walked past, and he stopped in the doorway. Your makeup bag was sprawled across the counter. Various brushes, palettes, and bottles of miscellaneous products sprawled out like you’d abandoned them mid-routine.

"Seriously?" Justin muttered to himself.

He turned off the light and walked downstairs, trying to shake the irritation. But then he saw your carry-on bag, the same one you’d left by the door three days ago, still sitting there like an afterthought.

He rubbed his hand down his face and exhaled sharply.

"Hey," he called out, louder than necessary.

You were at the dining table, laptop open again. Of course.

"What’s up?" you asked distractedly, barely looking up from your screen.

"Your bag’s still by the door," Justin said, forcing his voice to stay calm. "Can you just... take it upstairs or something?"

"I will," you mumbled, typing away.

He waited, but you didn’t move.

"And maybe put your makeup away too?" His voice had a sharper edge this time. "The counter’s a mess."

That made you pause. You blinked up at him, eyebrows pinching together.

"I said I’d get to it."

"Yeah, but you’ve been saying that since Monday," Justin shot back. "It’s not that hard to just put your stuff away when you’re done."

Your mouth opened like you were about to argue, but instead, you closed your laptop with more force than necessary.

"I’m sorry I didn’t have time to deep clean the house between meetings and emails and, oh yeah, trying to keep my career from falling apart," you snapped.

Justin’s jaw tightened. "That’s not what I’m saying."

"Isn’t it?" You stood up, crossing your arms. "Because it feels like you’ve got some things to say about everything I do...or don’t do."

"Maybe because it feels like I’m living with a toddler right now," Justin shot back, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "It wouldn’t kill you to put your stuff away instead of waiting for me to nag. Just—” he paused, trying to collect himself. “Did you realize this is our first conversation we’ve had all week that didn’t include you cutting it short because you’re too busy? Almost forgot what your voice even sounds like.”

Your face softened for a second, like you might let the frustration slip away... but then your shoulders squared again.

"I’m trying my best, Justin."

"Yeah?" His tone a bit dismissive. "Because right now, it kinda feels like I’m the only one who still cares."

The silence that followed was thick and heavy, not angry, just…hollow.

"Right, ok I’ll just move the bag," you said quietly before walking upstairs, your footsteps fading one by one.

Justin stood there for a moment, staring at the spot where your bag had been, frustration still simmering in his chest—but beneath it, the loneliness started to creep in.

You solved the problem a hour later, uttering out a hushed apology hugging him from behind, feeling the tension rapidly ease from him.

For a few days things felt normal again, you were still busy but more present.

Dinners were less rushed, and Justin caught glimpses of the girl he’d fallen for, the one who asked about his workouts and teased him about his endless devotion to studying film. He didn’t mind when you worked late a few nights that week because when you were home, you were with him, stealing fries off his plate, or pausing in the hallway just to kiss him before heading upstairs.

Tiny but meaningful reminders that you were still with him even though you were drowning in work.

But then, the late nights crept back in. The unanswered texts. The quiet moments that used to feel warm now felt empty...again.

The living room was quiet except for the low hum of the TV. Justin shifted on the couch, glancing over at you. You were curled up on the far end, legs tucked beneath you, laptop balanced on your knees. The soft glow from the screen reflected off your face, your fingers tapping rhythmically on the keyboard.

He waited a moment, watching you, hoping you’d close it soon.

You didn’t, so he cleared his throat to get your attention.

"What are you working on?" he asked, voice low.

"Just some research." You didn’t look up.

Justin let his eyes linger on you, waiting for you to close the laptop or at least turn his way. Normally, by this time of night, you’d be tucked into his side, your head resting against his shoulder. He’d have an arm draped around you, explaining some new defensive scheme he was learning, not that you really cared about football strategy, but you always listened, always asked questions. Then, when it was your turn, you’d ramble on about artists he’d never heard of, painting vivid pictures with your words until the names started to blur together. He never minded. You could’ve been reading a thesaurus and he’d still hang onto every word.

That felt like a lifetime ago.

Justin’s fingers tapped restlessly against his thigh. He turned back to the TV, barely processing the basketball game playing on the screen. After a few minutes, he tried again.

"Hey...you wanna turn that off soon? Maybe put on a movie or something?"

"I can’t right now," you murmured. "I’ve still got a few more things to look through."

He swallowed the sigh threatening to rise. A few more things. That’s what you’d said last night—and the night before that.

"Yeah... okay." His voice came out flat.

You didn’t notice. Or if you did, you didn’t say anything.

Justin shifted again, settling deeper into the cushions, but it didn’t help. The couch felt too big tonight. He swallowed down the ache that had been building for a few days and tried again the next night.

"I was thinking about redoing the patio," Justin said, his voice casual but hopeful.

You were lounging on the corner of the couch, scrolling through your phone, half-listening.

"Hmm?" you murmured, barely glancing up.

Justin shifted in his seat, leaning forward slightly. "Yeah, like maybe adding one of those fire pits? And some string lights across the posts, make it feel more...I don't know...cozy or something."

"Mmm...yeah, that sounds nice." Your thumb kept swiping.

Justin pressed his lips together, trying not to get annoyed.

"I found this video where they built this whole setup with built-in seating, and I figured I could probably knock it out in a couple of weeks," he went on, searching for some kind of reaction. "Might even try staining the deck, too. I was thinking—"

He stopped mid-sentence.

You were still scrolling, eyes flicking across the screen. You nodded like you’d heard him, but your focus was somewhere else entirely.

Justin waited a beat longer, hoping you’d look up, knowing you wouldn't.

"Never mind," he muttered.

"Hmm? What?" Your head lifted slightly, like you were only just registering that he’d stopped talking.

"Nothing," Justin said, forcing a tight smile. "It’s not important."

"Okay." You went right back to your phone.

Justin sat back against the couch, staring at the TV—but his mind wasn’t on the screen.

A few months ago, you would’ve put your phone down. You would’ve asked a dozen questions, what color stain he was thinking of, what kind of fire pit he wanted, maybe even teased him about turning into a handyman.

Now? It felt like you were a million miles away.

He had to say something. He had to do something before all that was left of the relationship was a few distant memories and penciling each other into calendars like you were distant strangers.

Justin wanted to be surprised when he pulled into the garage and the lights were off because you weren’t home yet. He wanted his feelings to be hurt less than they were, to be less emotionally invested in you—but here he was, ready to try again, continuously feeling like you were emotionally checked out until your project was over.

He sighed, tossing his keys onto the counter and toeing off his sneakers. The house felt cold, too quiet—like no one had really lived in it for weeks.

"This isn’t how it’s supposed to be," he muttered under his breath, raking a hand through his hair.

Then—

"SURPRISE!"

Justin flinched as the lights burst to life, a chorus of voices filling the room. His eyes widened as familiar faces emerged from the crowd—Charlie, Tate and Jackson—even some friends from Sheldon who rarely made it out this way.

Confetti fluttered through the air, laughter spilling from the corners of the room. His heart was still hammering in his chest when you stepped forward, grinning wide.

"You knew I’d hate this," Justin said, his voice caught between shock and amusement.

"I know," you laughed. "But you deserve it. You’re lucky I didn’t make you wear a birthday pin."

Justin exhaled, finally taking it all in — the decorations strung carefully along the walls, photos of the two of you pinned to a board near the kitchen, and the unmistakable scent of his mom’s chocolate chip cookies lingering in the air.

"I…" he started, shaking his head as he looked around. He’d already greeted half the room, yet somehow still felt overwhelmed. "I don't even know what to say. Where did everyone even park? I didn’t see any cars outside."

You smiled proudly. "Made everyone park out back. Couldn't risk my surprise being ruined."

You took a step closer, sliding your arms around his waist. Justin hesitated for a second — not out of anger, but out of disbelief that you’d pulled this off when you were the busiest you’ve ever been.

"Happy birthday, baby," you whispered against his chest.

For a moment, Justin didn’t say anything—just held you tighter, pressing his face into your hair. The tension that had been building for weeks seemed to melt away, leaving something familiar in its place. This was exactly what he needed and he could cry at knowing that you knew that and did everything you could to give it to him.

"You’re impossible," he murmured, but there was no bite to it, just relief.

"You love it."

"I love you," he corrected, grabbing your hand and leading you to his friends so you can explain in vivid detail how you managed all of this without him catching on.

The morning light filtered softly through the windows, casting a warm glow across the kitchen. Justin stood at the counter, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, a streak of flour dusting his forearm. You were perched on the opposite side, aggressively scraping the last bit of cream cheese frosting from the mixing bowl with a spatula.

"Hey," Justin protested, reaching for the bowl. "We still need some of that for the cake."

You dodged his grab, licking a dollop of frosting from your finger. "Relax, baker boy, there’s still plenty."

"Yeah, plenty in your mouth," he shot back, grabbing your wrist with one hand and swiping frosting onto your cheek with the other.

You let out an indignant gasp before lunging for him, but Justin laughed and held you off with one arm, the other steadying the mixing bowl.

"Okay, okay!" you surrendered, giggling breathlessly. "Truce!"

He grinned, leaning in to kiss the frosting off your cheek.

By the time the cake was in the oven, slightly lopsided but full of love, you were both sprawled out on the couch in your pajamas, wrapped in blankets, a half-eaten bowl of popcorn between you. Inception was playing, but neither of you were fully committed to following the plot. Justin could probably quote the entire movie from memory.

"So," he murmured, his head resting against the back of the couch, "the baby ducks should be here in a few days."

You turned your head to look at him, smiling softly. "You ready for them?"

He nodded proudly. "Everything’s set — heat lamp’s on, bedding’s down. I even read that if you talk to them a lot when they’re little, they’ll follow you everywhere."

"Great," you teased. "We’ll have a trail of fluffballs running after you like you’re some kind of duck whisperer."

Justin’s face lit up. "Yeah, well, I’m gonna be their favorite. You’re just gonna be ‘that lady.’"

"Please," you shot back, grinning. "I give it two days before they’re imprinted on me instead."

He hummed thoughtfully, then added, "I read they like warm baths, too. Oh, and they have this little happy noise they make when they’re comfortable, kind of like a soft whistle—"

You blinked at him. "Okay, Phil Dunphy."

Justin’s head shot up in mock offense. "Don’t talk about our children like that."

You burst out laughing, wrapping your arm around his and tilting your head up to kiss him. It was almost scary how seamlessly you two fell back into your normal, cozy routine.

As the credits rolled, Justin shifted to face you. "Hey...what if we do something special the night before your art show?"

You glanced up at him curiously.

"I'll hire a private chef," he said, his voice warm and hopeful. "Just the two of us—fancy dinner, good wine, the whole thing. Relax a bit the night before it gets crazy."

Your heart swelled. "You don’t have to do that.”

"I want to," Justin said firmly. "You've been working your tail off, we should celebrate your big break. Just the two of us."

You nodded, smiling as you reached for his hand. "I can’t wait."

"Me neither," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You sighed happily, your fingers lacing through his. "I don’t deserve you."

Justin shook his head. "You’re stuck with me anyway."

The week flew by in a blur — a whirlwind of emails, late-night revisions, and endless checklists. The power suit collection in your closet was really running low.

You barely remembered what day it was anymore. The guest list was finalized after hours of combing through names and double-checking RSVPs. Each piece had been meticulously positioned in the gallery, sculptures casting dramatic shadows across the walls while delicate paintings softened the space. The fountain, the centerpiece of your entire vision, now flowed beautifully, light dancing off the rippling water and making the entire room feel like Shakespeare's words come to life.

It was perfect.

"We did it," you breathed, standing beside your team in the gallery’s dim light.

"We deserve a drink or something," a coworker suggested, and you didn’t hesitate.

One drink turned into two. Two turned into lingering conversation about favorite exhibits and upcoming projects, the kind of easy bonding you’d been too busy to enjoy lately. It felt good. Like you could finally breathe.

But when you pulled your phone from your purse, your stomach dropped.

9:42 p.m.

"Shit," you muttered under your breath, scrambling to gather your things. Justin’s dinner.

You’d forgotten.

The pit in your stomach only grew heavier as you speed-dialed him, the phone ringing and ringing before finally going to voicemail.

"Hey. I’m so sorry. I lost track of time, but I’m on my way now. Please just—please wait for me."

Quickly ended the call, you shoved your phone back in your bag as you hurried out the door. The cold air hit you in the face like a slap—sharp and biting—and you couldn’t help but feel like you deserved it.

You stumbled through the front door, breathless and still slightly chilled from the night air. The house was quiet — eerily so. No sounds from the kitchen, no clatter of dishes or low conversation from the chef Justin had hired. Your eyes landed on the dining room, and your stomach twisted painfully.

The table was still set. Candles flickered softly, their wax dripping down in delicate rivulets. Plates were arranged neatly with silverware untouched. A bottle of wine—unopened—sat between two glasses. Justin was there, too, slouched back in his chair with his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

He didn’t look at you when you walked in.

"Justin..." Your voice wavered as you stepped closer. "I’m so sorry. I—I lost track of time, and—"

"Yeah," he cut in flatly. His eyes flicked up to you then, sharp, tired, and unmistakably hurt. "I figured."

You swallowed hard, guilt swelling inside you. "I should’ve texted you. I should’ve checked my phone or set an alarm or something. I just...I got caught up, and I didn’t mean to—"

"You didn’t mean to," Justin repeated, shaking his head bitterly. "Yeah, I know. But you always ‘didn’t mean to.’"

You opened your mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Because he wasn’t wrong.

"I waited," Justin said, his voice quieter now, but somehow heavier. "I sat here for almost an hour hoping you’d walk in any second. The chef packed everything up and left, and I...I didn’t even know what to tell him." He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. "I can’t keep feeling like this — like I’m some afterthought you’ll get around to whenever you remember."

"That’s not fair," you said quickly, stepping closer. "You know how important this show is to me, I’ve been working for this for so long—“

"I know," he snapped, his voice sharper than before. "I know you’re busy. I know this project means everything to you. But dammit, I’m trying. I’m trying to be patient, to be understanding, but it feels like I’m just...just waiting around for you to have time for me."

"That’s not true. I promise it’s not.”

"Isn’t it?" His voice cracked just slightly, frustration transforming into hurt and disappointment. "You’re never home. You miss things you used to care about. I mean...hell, you couldn’t even set an alarm or check your phone tonight so I wouldn’t sit here like an idiot waiting for you to show up."

You blinked hard, heat rising behind your eyes. "I am so unbelievably sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you."

"But you did." Justin shook his head, pushing back from the table with a scrape of the chair legs. "And I can’t keep being the only one fighting for this."

Your breath caught. "That’s not fair," you said again, but your voice cracked this time.

"It’s exactly fair," he shot back. "I’ve been here, waiting, adjusting, giving you space. And I’m still the one left sitting at the table alone."

You sighed, trying to tamp down the irritation simmering beneath your guilt. "Yes, okay, you're right. I'm really sorry I'm so late. And I get it—you have every right to be upset. I fucked up. I admit that. But I’m usually the one waiting for you. It’s usually me sitting at the table alone.”

"What are you talking about?"

"Football season?" Your voice wavered, a little more frustration bleeding in. "How many dates have we canceled? Or ones that you literally just forgot about? Things that I want to do with you, but I have to wait until the offseason when it’s more ideal. I'm usually the one adjusting to your schedule, bending over backwards to adjust and yes, I knew what I signed up for—but I’m not gonna let you make me feel like shit when you do the same thing."

Justin’s face twisted, defensive and stubborn. "That’s different."

"Different?" Your voice rose. "How exactly?"

"Because I get paid an absurd amount of money to play football," he shot back.

For a moment, you just stared at him, disbelief washing over you. "Wow," you said quietly, your voice hollow. "So because I’m not a millionaire with endorsements, my job doesn’t matter?"

"That’s not what I meant," Justin said quickly, but you were already reeling. His words felt like a gut punch—not because you thought he believed that, but because it had been too easy for him to say it.

"It must be so hard to handle it when the world doesn’t revolve around your schedule? Right, QB1?” You utter slowly, lashing out at him like he’d just done to you. “Not everything is happening the way Justin wants it to so he's mad. But hey, you're a multi millionaire so it's fine. Right? I'll just take myself and my unimportant job with an insufficient salary and sleep in the guest room tonight." You bit out, voice shaking.

Justin’s jaw tensed. "Don’t do that."

"Do what?" you shot back, bitterness spilling out. "Call you out for acting like I’m supposed to drop everything just because you suddenly have free time?" You let out a short, humorless laugh. "You don’t get to act like I’m selfish just because I’m asking for a little bit of the same grace I give you all the time."

"You stood me up," Justin said tightly.

“And I apologized! Multiple times.”

He sighs, knowing this conversation should end but not knowing how he wants to end it. “So I’m supposed to just forgive you as soon as you say I’m sorry because you want me to make you feel better? I don’t think that’s very fair.”

"Neither is you acting like my job is just some hobby," you countered, your voice quieter now but trembling with frustration. "I love what I do. And I thought you did too."

Justin scrubbed a hand down his face. He didn’t have a comeback this time. Instead, he exhaled a sharp breath and muttered, "I just...I just miss you."

Your chest ached.

"I miss you too," you admitted softly.

But neither of you moved. Justin stood near the counter, arms crossed like armor, and you stood by the door, clutching your bag like a shield. The space between you felt heavier than it ever had before.

"I'm going to sleep," you said quietly, your voice strained. "Long day tomorrow."

He nodded, but didn’t respond. Too many emotions tangled in his head—anger, exhaustion and there was this ache in his bones that felt a little too close to heartbreak for his liking. The two of you rarely fought but this felt like popping a stitch post surgery. Everything was bleeding and he didn’t have a bandaid big enough to stop it. He’d already put his foot in his mouth once tonight, and pushing more words out felt like stepping on thin ice. Maybe giving you space was the safest option.

You didn’t look back. The sound of your footsteps fading down the hall felt louder than anything else in the room. Justin stayed at the table long after you were gone—staring at the untouched place settings, the empty wine glasses, the flickering candle that had burned halfway down.

He thought about blowing it out, ending the night for good but something stopped him. Instead, he let it burn a little longer, just in case you changed your mind and came back.

The gallery was breathtaking, exactly how you’d imagined it. The air smelled faintly of fresh grass and wildflowers, thanks to the indoor garden exhibit that stretched along the far wall. Real grass lined the floor, soft and cool beneath guests’ shoes. Vibrant blooms—deep purple foxgloves, bright yellow primroses, delicate white baby’s breath—spilled from carefully arranged beds. Guests wandered through the space, running their fingers along petals and stems, murmuring in awe at the tangible beauty of it all.

Nearby, a towering fairy sculpture commanded attention. Sculpted from twisted metal vines and glass wings that shimmered under soft lighting, she looked like she could spring to life at any moment. She stood at the heart of the exhibit, arms outstretched as if casting a spell over the enchanted garden.

Paintings framed the walls, some bold and chaotic, bursting with color and motion; others soft and dreamlike, capturing tender moments frozen in time. A large mural stretched across one wall—Titania and Oberon entwined in a dance of power and passion, their figures bathed in hues of gold and silver. The entire space felt like stepping inside A Midsummer Night’s Dream—ethereal, magical, and intoxicating.

Your boyfriend's family had shown up in full support. His parents admired the sculptures, his mother pointing out details with genuine excitement. His brothers Mitch and Patrick lingered near the drink station, sipping glasses of wine while greeting guests with warm smiles.

Justin stood beside you through most of the evening, stood being the key word. No casual arm around your waist. No fingertips grazing your back like they usually did. When guests stopped to compliment you, he smiled and congratulated you but his voice was clipped, his eyes distant. The tension between you hung thick in the air, impossible to ignore.

When his hand brushed yours at one point, you both instinctively pulled away as if burned.

Patrick noticed.

A little later, Patrick found Justin near the back of the room, pretending to study one of the paintings.

"Alright," Patrick said, crossing his arms. "What’s going on?"

"Nothing," Justin muttered.

"Yeah, right." Patrick took a sip of his drink. "You and her are acting like two people who just finalized their divorce and are pretending to be civil for the sake of the kids."

Justin huffed out a bitter laugh. "It's fine. Just... had a fight."

Patrick’s brow lifted. "Okay. About what?"

Justin hesitated, but Patrick wasn’t about to let him off the hook. His little brother had never been one for subtlety.

"Justin." His voice firm now.

"She was late to dinner last night," Justin said finally. "I planned this whole thing — private chef, the works and she just...forgot." He shook his head, frustration flickering again. "I waited for almost an hour. It felt like I didn’t even matter."

Patrick didn’t say anything at first, just stared at his brother like he was trying to piece something together.

"Look, I get why you're mad," Patrick said slowly. "But... you're not just pissed at her. You're pissed at yourself."

Justin blinked. "What? No. I—"

"Yes, you are." Patrick cut him off. "You’re dating a workaholic, Justin. And guess what? You’re a workaholic too. So last night?" He gestured vaguely. "That’s how she feels for six months out of the year. At least. And you know what? She never throws it in your face. Never makes you feel like crap for being too busy. And she still chooses you, every single day."

Justin swallowed hard, his eyes shifting back toward you across the room. You were laughing politely at something one of the guests had said, but your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes.

"So yeah," Patrick continued. "She’s been busy lately, and yeah, maybe she’s been a little distant —but can you really blame her for being the thing she’s always been? The thing that attracted you to her the most in the first place? You wanted someone with their own career and their own ambitions and life goals too, remember? Now that you have it, you gotta learn give and take. Yes, being stood up sucks, but look at the masterpiece she created. She supports you in the stands every Sunday and now you get to show up for her big game. It may not look exactly the way you pictured it,” he nudged him after his play on words and Justin hates that he laughed. “But this is the life you said you’ve always wanted. And the person you’ve always wanted to live it with.”

Justin let out a long breath, feeling that tight knot of anger slowly start to unravel and he felt something else entirely, guilt and regret.

"I’m a hypocrite," Justin said quietly. “I messed up.”

"Then fix it," Patrick said simply. "Don’t let your pride make you screw this up."

Justin didn’t answer. He just stood there, watching you from across the room looking beautiful, exhausted, and so far away.

The energy in the gallery buzzed as guests mingled, glasses clinking and quiet conversations filling the air. The night was building toward your speech, the moment you’d worked so hard for. But as you stood near the back, trying to gather your thoughts, you felt a familiar hand on your elbow.

“Hey,” Justin said quietly.

You turned, surprised to see him standing so close. His expression was softer than it had been all night—less guarded, less angry—and something in your chest tightened.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

You glanced toward the small stage where your microphone waited, then back at him. “Yeah,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

He guided you to a quieter corner near the garden exhibit. The soft glow of the fairy sculpture bathed you both in gold and silver light, flickering off Justin’s tired eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low but firm. “For last night...for how I acted...for making you feel like your work doesn’t matter.” He shook his head. “That was...that was messed up, and I knew it the second I said it.”

You swallowed hard, heart aching. “I’m sorry too,” you said quickly. “Not just for last night, but...for a lot of things. For being distracted, for not being around, for leaving my stuff everywhere and acting like I didn’t hear you when you were trying to talk about the patio.”

“You... you heard that?” he asked, surprised.

“Of course I did.” You gave a small, tired smile. “I know you want to put in a fire pit and string lights across the posts. I know you’ve been researching ways to keep the baby ducks warm and reading up on all the best practices. I know you’ve been trying, Justin.” Your voice wavered. “Even when I’ve been too busy to show it... I’ve been paying attention. I always pay attention.”

Justin exhaled, the tension in his shoulders finally easing. “I was just...I don’t know. I was mad—but I was also hurt. And I guess...embarrassed. Like, what kind of guy throws himself a pity party because his girlfriend had an important work thing?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I ruined your night.”

“You didn’t,” you said softly. “You didn’t ruin anything. The fact that you’re here tonight... that’s what matters to me.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The warmth of his hand found yours, his fingers threading through yours like they always did and you swore the Earth was healing.

“You know,” you said, your voice soft but steady, “my favorite thing about you has always been how driven you are. How dedicated you are to being the best quarterback, the best teammate, the best leader you can be.” You squeezed his hand. “You’re the blueprint, baby.”

Justin smiled—not his usual grin, but one that radiated gratitude and joy in its most pure form.

“Thank you for always being patient with me. And,” he murmured, “you were QB1 this week. Seriously...I’ve never seen a more clutch performance.” He smirked. “Might have to watch your film—learn a thing or two.”

You laughed, for the first time in what felt like weeks, and Justin leaned in, pressing his lips softly to yours. The kiss was warm, light, and grounding, like finding your way home after being lost.

“You’ve got this,” he said quietly when he pulled back. “I’ll be right here.”

Moments later, you stood in front of the room, microphone in hand.

“Thank you all so much for being here tonight,” you began, voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside you. “This project has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but also one of the most rewarding.”

You paused, glancing out at the crowd. Your parents stood proudly near the front, and beside them, Justin watched you with that familiar look, the one that said he was proud of you and would be right there to cheer you on no matter what.

“I want to thank my incredible team for bringing this vision to life,” you continued. “I want to thank my friends and my family for believing in me, even on the days I didn’t believe in myself.” Your eyes found Justin again. “And I especially want to thank my partner. Because his work ethic is a work of art—and he inspires me every single day.”

Justin’s smile stretched wide, and this time, you let your gaze linger, a quiet promise passing between you.

You were both still learning, still figuring out how to meet each other in the middle. How to find that delicate work-life balance and still make each other a priority. But tonight? The middle wasn’t so bad.