#if it isn't my twin from another series!

[bluestringpuppeteer]

When Legato came home, bags in hand from a small shopping trip, it was to find another white-coated figure investigating the villa, expression far from pleased. The psychic had to pause and blink at the other man, simply on the basis of how... oddly similar they looked. Besides hair and eye colors, they might as well be twins. Even their styles were extremely similar.

Legato closes the door behind him, frowning slightly at the other man in his home.

"Either you have a key and thus are my new roommate or you are breaking and entering, which I do not appreciate. Which is it? I do not have patience for idiots who think they may go where they please with no consequences." If only he had his powers he could just be the consequences himself but alas, he was almost just as powerless as any normal human here.

@duel-king

[doctorweebmd]

coming out of my baldurs gate 3 delirium (aka i am working a night shift and can't physically play it. at work.) to say that horikoshi. horikoshi when i GET YOU. you are NOT leaving izuku with no quirk and no arms. i am in your walls

[vagabond-umlaut]

ruby, one baker's dozen

Winter mornings are meant to be whiled away in the silent comfort of one's blankets— a rule the feared King of Curses knows and follows— or must one say, he knows and desperately wishes to follow, but alas!

▸ trueform!sukuna x wife!reader; tons & gallons of tooth-rotting domestic fluff; v light suggestiveness in the beginning; before everything transforms into silliness; SLEEPY LOVING & CUDDLING; you & 'kuna have two adorable menaces as your twin babies— life is definitely fun for you, handling three ryomen's on a daily basis! xD [ryomen isn't rly sukuna's surname, is it? well, here in these tags, it is :)]

▸ belongs to the series 'mine? yes, mine.' but you can treat this as a stand-alone fic if you wanna!

▸ i don't own the characters, the image or the divider used. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

One thing which Sukuna cherishes more than most is his sleep.

And one thing which Sukuna cherishes more than sleep is when you're the one waking him.

Feathery kisses pressing themselves into the column of his neck. Sharp nails slowly dragging down the length of his arm. Your tiny figure moving to lie atop of him, freezing yet more comforting than the warmest fires this wintry dawn—

A rumble of a chuckle leaving, he opens an eye to find you staring. Your enchanting eyes heavy with sleep, and those twinkles never not there when he catches you gazing upon him. A languid smile adorns his face.

"Isn't it too early for you to be awake, wife?"

"Perhaps," you hum, lifting your lips into a drowsy tilt, "But it is never early for me to admire my husband," your hand moves from travelling down his arm to card through his hair, "At times, I cannot believe you're married to me. You're far too ethereal for anything– for anyone from this world."

You're jesting, is the first thought which crosses Sukuna's mind. But it is banished the very next instant— when he notices the sincerity engraved into your features and words, clear as day for all to see.

Ignoring the erratic rhythm thundering within his chest, your lover wraps an arm round your waist and pulls you flush to himself. Another hand moves to run through your messy hair gently. Basking in the content sigh you offer as a response, he grumbles, "Flattery never works on me, woman. Speak your mind freely, without resorting to such trifling words."

"Ah, but what if I was speaking my mind, my king?" you breathe out, giggling lightly, "I do see you as someone otherworldly, someone who is— mmph!"

Unusual yet far-from-unknown feelings clouding his vision, Sukuna captures your lips into a fiery motion with his own. Two hands alternating between caressing you through your nightgown and squeezing the supple flesh lying beneath it. A third hand slipping the thin strap of the gown past your shoulder. While the fourth one reaches towards the nightstand, for the–

"The necklace!"

Sukuna draws in a sharp breath, breaking the kiss. You make a noise, somewhere between puzzled and disgruntled— yet your husband finds himself unable to focus on it as he moves you to shift into a sitting posture— not when he cannot find the necklace he gifted you the night prior, the very one he unclasped from round your neck and kept on the table before going to bed—

A soft gasp drags his attention back to you. To your wide, terrified eyes.

"Don't tell me you cannot find the necklace, Sukuna!!" The warning in your tone is unmistakeable as you lean over him to look at the stand. "It must have been worth more than a fortune— I always ask you to mind your expenses yet you never—"

"The money isn't the problem, wife," Sukuna doesn't wait for you before snapping, "The problem's in the security— though for an intruder to escape my eye, it is nigh impossi—"

Your lover stills.

The very moment two tiny yet blinding Cursed Energy signatures make themselves known. Chortling. Toddling from the nursery adjacent into the bedroom. Of course, with your necklace of rubies being held by one of them.

A joyous shriek leaves them when they see you awake, tiny legs waddling even faster to help them reach you sooner— yet much too slow for the likes of the feared King of Curses.

In a fraction of a second, he wrenches the blankets off to place his feet on the ground. And stomping over to the two– now rooted to their spot, crimson eyes narrowed into slits at their father– he scoops each up into one arm. And glowers.

"Why did you steal this, you brats?"

The twins share an oddly telepathic-seeming look with each other— before the younger, Mizuki, answers, chubby face set in a deep scowl, "Gift, pwetty. Mama, pwetty."

"Yes, I agree," Sukuna seethes, barely restraining his temper, "But that gift was for me to give your mother. Not for you to give her. How dare you-"

"No!!" A hand smacks him, one he realises is covered in drool. If looks could kill, your husband reckons your elder twin Amaya would've long since shoved him into the realm of death by now. She hits him again. "Mizu–Aya gift Mama. Papa no gift Mama."

A scathing retort sits at the tip of his tongue, but he swallows it back when he hears your giggles. Your feet land on the floor with a soft tap! before ambling over. You press a sweet kiss to each of your daughters' foreheads, eliciting two sets of identical laughs in reply.

You coo, "Did my two darlings get me a beautiful gift, hm?"

The twins nod vigorously, Mizuki nearly shoving the ornament into your face. Annoyance ticks in Sukuna's jaw, but he stops himself from chastising them— you'll chew his ears off if he interrupts your 'mama-babies bonding moment' or whatever.

Shooting him an awfully delighted glance, you take the necklace and wearing it, grin with a brow raised. "So... how do I look, babies?"

"Pwetty!!!"

The twins waste not even an instant before screeching their opinion, right into their father's ears— yet, somehow, the latter cannot find it within himself to be mad for that. Not when they have only spoken the truth, for you indeed do look very pretty.

Absolutely nothing less than a vision.

A vision your husband has to take a deep breath to restrain from ravishing this very moment— lest it scars the children and you snap his neck in return— he clears his throat noisily to regain your attention. Subtly nodding your head at him, he watches you redirect your gaze to the toddlers— that sweet smile still lighting your face, yet a tad serious.

A change, he gathers, Amaya and Mizuki too realise, given the way they sneak a glance of each other before returning their eyes to you. Smoothing the hair on top of Amaya's head, you hum, "The gift was pretty too, my darlings— but I wonder when the two of you went to the market to buy it, y'know?"

A tense moment passes with yet another telepathic look between the twins. Voice still soft, you inquire, "Were you the ones who bought me this, babies?"

"No..." Amaya shakes her head after a second's hesitation. Mizuki adds, features crestfallen, "Papa buy gift. We no buy gift."

"Ah... I see..." Sukuna watches you say, catching the meaningful smile you direct his way. "So, Papa was the one who bought this for Mama. But Aya and Mizu didn't want her to receive the gift from him, so they decided to sneak into the room when they were sleeping, steal the gift, then give it to Mama next morning, making her think it is from them— am I right or am I wrong, babies?"

"Of course, you're right, my Queen," your lover scoffs, ready to pour more fuel into the fire— but falls silent on receiving your glare— which considerably softens when you look at the toddlers in his arms. But not by too much.

His Queen is kind yet never the kindest— one of the many things he admires about you.

"Amaya? Mizuki?" you press them one more time, only to earn few quiet sniffles in response. Soon followed by two teary voices, sing-song in a chorus, "Sowwy, Mama. Sooo sowwy."

"Nuh-nuh," you tut, folding your arms across your chest and shaking your head, "I'm not the one you wronged. You wronged your father. Say sorry to him."

Hostility— the one of the bitterest kind— flashes in the eight crimson eyes scowling at him. Tears now nothing save mere vapour, thanks to the fury at their father. Sukuna smirks, seeing Amaya give him a resentful look while her sister pouts at you pleadingly.

You beam back, as sweet as ever. "Say sorry to your Papa, sweeties. Or I'll take your toys away for a week."

"Mama!?" The older of the two shrieks, indignation and betrayal written all over her face— Mizuki, ever the more even-tempered and pragmatic of the duo, wastes no time in complying to your command. "Sowwy Papa," she says, tears refilling her eyes, "So sowwy. Mizuki not wrong Papa again," then turns to her twin, tone brooking no room for disagreement, "Aya, say sowwy Papa."

Quite a few beats pass before Amaya eventually concedes defeat and grits out a barely-heard apology— your husband's smirk growing more taunting, he pulls you closer to tuck you into his side and presses a kiss to the top of your head. All the while two of his eyes remain focused on those two bite-sized fuming competitors for his wife's love.

You peer up at him, those twinkles making a comeback in your mesmerising eyes.

"The princesses are more your children than mine, my king," you tease, "A month away from their second birthday and they've already started to resort to such devious methods for my affection! How shall I ever keep them in check, I wonder..."

The same way you reprimanded them right now, the thought crosses his mind. But he decides not to express it so. Not when he still has a revenge to exact for having his time with you interrupted in such a rude fashion.

"Fret not, my Queen," he murmurs, "We can always let the princesses stay at home when the next fair comes to the nearby villages, whilst we both visit it— I'm certain that will be a lesson good enough for— Ow, you fuckers!!!!"

Two war cries erupt in the room in response, soon followed by two flurries of attacks from his two greatest adversaries— a development, he knows, will never not lead to you yelling, the twins wailing, and him being deprived of you for who-knows-how-long— given how clingy those two gremlins grow after making you mad–

And yet. And yet.

The King of Curses finds himself not too irked with the way things have turned out to be.

Not when the three lights of his world are all in his arms, making this dark wintry dawn brighter and warmer than the midday sun— never mind the stinging scratches on his left cheek, the repeated smacks on his right cheek and the extremely exasperated groan from right beside him.

Sukuna reckons— nay, he knows— he cherishes you and your two imps the most out of everything.

▸ honourable mentions: @poe-daydreams for giving me the DILF!SUKUNA brainrot, @avatarofstars for constantly supporting and motivating me out of one of my worst writer's blocks, @thefallofruins for being the sweet & kind owner of the other half of my braincells, @javarium for hyping me up so-freaking-much all-the-freaking-time!! TYYYY & I LOVE U ALL SOOO MUCHHH 🥰🥰🥰

▸ masterlist

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

David and Michael talk about the S2 Finale 🥺

David and Michael interview with Kim Roots from TVLine, about the S2 finale. July 2023 [S2 Promo: C: I could always rely on you. You could always rely on me. We're a team, a grou p. And we spend our existence pretending that we aren't.]

KR: What happens in the finale between Crowley and Aziraphale is something that some fans have been yearning for a very long time. Was there a pressure? Did you have any conversations about what this might mean to the fandom? Talk to me a little bit about like when you found out this was going to happen and kind of your initial reactions.

Michael: Well, you know, the relationship between Aziraphale and Crowley, obviously, is something that the audience seemed to really warm to, and obviously was part of why the idea of doing Season 2, you know, seemed like it could be something that could work. Following how that relationship develops has been something that the audiences have really got into. So we've taken that very seriously, and Neil takes it incredibly seriously. So tracking that relationship and that journey between them, because obviously on the surface, they seem like they're complete opposites, and yet clearly, they're kind of compelled towards each other in all kinds of ways. And now that they've been being cut off from their respective head offices, they only have each other, so that pulls them together a lot more, doesn't it? And the stakes are always high around them, and they sort of end up going on a journey together, but it takes them to different places and where we leave things at the end..

David: Well, that's the thing. Nothing is resolved. So whatever happens and whatever you may have seen at the end of Episode 6, it's also important to note that that doesn't finish the story. In fact, that just sor of ruptures things.

Michael: It's the start of another story.

[S2 Promo: A: I forgive. C: Don't bother.]

David:I think you have to be careful if there is something delicate that has generated a lot of excitement about where will that end up. As soon as you end up there, as soon as you finish that story, it's all over, isn't it?

Michael: You don't really want to find out who killed Laura Palmer. [Twin Peaks series plot]

David: Yeah, exactly. Exactly.

KR Like you said, David, there is no resolution, which made me very happy because this feels primed for a third go-around at some point. Have you had any conversations about that with Neil about possibly keeping the story going?

David: Well, if you've seen where Series 2 ends, there's certainly the teasing of further tales to come, isn't there? Whether we will ever find out what those tales are is in the lap of... well, certainly not on our lap.

Michael: No, it's on the laps of the audience.

David: Laps of the audience, yes.

Michael: We are sitting firmly...

David: In the tops of the audience as it streaming.

Michael: Yeah, it's not in my lap. I know that. When we first started Series 1, we always knew that the story went a lot further because Neil and Terry had talked about it. They just hadn't written it down, but we knew there were ideas, and we have not yet reached the end of those ideas.

David: No.

Michael: You know, if we get a chance to tell more of this story, it does already exist.

David: Yes.

[darlingofvalyria]

❝Will you forsake me, my love? And the babe I carry?❞

[ You had made a mistake. A slip up. You had overlooked the extent of Otto Hightower and his greed. Now you must make it right... or pay in fire and blood. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 5,504 ] [ series masterlist ] | jacaerys velaryon x targaryen aunt-wife!reader (aegon's twin sister),

contains— canon divergence - manipulative reader— gets darkish but not yet dd:dne - targcest, angsty as fuck, pregnancy - nsfw: p & v sex, oral (male receiving) - no kings, no martyrs, no betas.

a/n— i... actually dunno how i got here tbh. thankfully, this isn't dead dove quite yet, but you, yes you, as jace's manipulative targ wife, almost did, girl, jfc. ahahaha! comments, reblogs & like at will, mwa! 💝 + now that there is a second part, and a third part i'm plotting (uh huh), this is officially a series!! its v loosey goosey, but it'll have a masterlist so... it means it has a taglist! message me to be tagged 💝 & if there are any drabbles/blurbs you wanna see!! message me lmk!! i have so many thoughts about jacey & manipulative reader hehe + dividers by @danowh0re

The only warning you receive is the missive hastily made by your twin.

In his panic, Aegon's scrawl had been barely legible, but the cold sweat that shot through your spine at making sense of the text had you keening over; fingers over your mouth, a dangerous gurgle in your stomach.

The world tilts, the air sucks inward.

Fear... Cold, weightless fear, settles in your heart.

"Princess!" Your maid, Dyana, shrieks, hands grasping your elbows to prevent you from falling. She turns to the door. "Call the maestre back! Now!"

You shake your head rapidly. "No, no. No Ser Addam. I am alright."

"But princess—"

"No, Dyana, I am alright." But you are pale, and a thrum shakes through fingers, rattling your ribcage and trying to yank your heart out of your throat. You have to find your footing or all will be lost. You grab Dyanna's arms and she winces. "Tell me- the prince - where is he?"

"I'm not sure, princess, I can—"

"Quickly! We shan't lose precious more time."

You turn to Meera. You had invested in her from the early age you had taken her in from the orphanage. Loyalty, in its absolution, must be rewarded.

And ease for your own plans can be disguised as a reward.

She steps forward obediently, hands clasped behind her back like a soldier awaiting orders. She is nondescript with plain features, easily able to hide between other common folk; and no one, truly, looks at a maid.

"Go to the Sea Dragon Tower, wait on the Rookery for Johan. Only Johan, do you understand me? Keep the missive that I will dictate to you close to his heart, hidden, and he must depart immediately. Throw extra gold at the captain, I do not care. Meera, no other eyes must touch the paper I will send, tell him of the utter import such a thing. No other than another Spider. We cannot unravel further than this or we will start burning."

Meera's gaze darkens, her posture straightening. "Yes, your grace."

You grasp her hands, your mind whirring— so many plots, so many lies, in between them, he flashes in your mind; the dark hair, the warmth of his hand, the sweet, simpered smile and the flicker of rage that dances like a flame. In and out and calmed and wild.

Dutiful. A Perfect Son. A Beloved Prince. Your Lord Husband.

He flashes in between plans and unraveled lies. Along it, Aegon's missive, quickly written, panic seeping in every vowel.

Grandsire had gotten to Aemond's head. Went to Storm's End. Met Lucerys. They are calling him Kinslayer.

Your head is pounding. Kinslayer, Kinslayer, Kinslayer. It churns your stomach, dries your throat. Lucerys dead. Aemond beheaded. Jacaerys' rage. Rhaenyra's. Dark Sister in the Rogue Prince's hand. All your clever threads, your webs and tales, everything you have sacrificed to get here— they are unraveling, the lives you care about, your fondness and love — the fear has moulded and churned; the Stranger now haunting the skies, searching for names, trying to grasp for your neck.

Aemond, You, Aegon, Helaena, Alicent, Jaeheara, Jaehearys, Maelor—

Aemond, Aemond, Aemond.

Your baby brother. Marred and disfigured, dutiful and dedicated. Sarcastic and princely; dancing with you if you ask. Reading with him in the library. A flickering hearth, a kind eye, a protective arm.

Your baby brother, beheaded, gaping mouth and bloodred eye.

Justice spun and spun, but oh so corrupted when they had taken his eye and no name step forth to claim.

Disfigured, marred, and dead.

Focus, you think, your mouth moving, words spilling, plans stretching. Focus.

Otto Hightower must die. It is a pressing thought, digging into the centrefold of your mushy, wet brain. Pressing and pressing like a fever as words of instructions, orders, must be sent along one spider to another.

Your hand drifts to your stomach as Meera leaves, in her head the words that must reach King's Landing. That must pass only the cleverest of hands. Your hand curls, your fist tightens enough that blood clots and beads through crescent rings. Clever girl. Clever spider. You have to believe in Meera and the people under your hushed employ.

You have no choice. You have built your webs, you must trust your spiders.

Not when you can't even trust your own fucking blood.

It took a while to get your network going in Dragonstone. As soon as the smell of brimstone and dragon broached your nostrils, the plans for moving what you had started in Kings Landing became the forefront plan. There is only so much movement you can make in a board full of enemies; and with so many more things to do, you cannot be restrained.

People with stakes, with ambitions and wants of their own— be that money, a good future, a house with warmth and love — if you can provide it enough, dash it in enough kindness and care, people, like ants, could move mountains for you.

It took most of hyour life to have what you established in Kings Landing. Most of your free time— feiging afternoon teas, walks along the garden; young lady things that will not arouse suspicion, fit for a pious, devoted daughter of Alicent Hightower — was spent building and building webs.

Thankfully, as a Princess of the Realm— and as the future Heir's wife, the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms (the title tingles and throbs, comes alive in gasps and winning hands) — you can have your pick of maids and lady in waitings here too. Connections are important, and Jacaerys did not bereaved you of choice.

In fact, he so encouraged you to make changes to Dragonstone as you so chose fit.

"You are my wife," he sighed, pressing kiss after kiss to the side of your head. When he was wrapped around you like this— arms around your torso, a finger, almost absentmindedly, rubbing just the underside of your breast, and the smell of him, boyish but smoky, like a fireplace and first kiss, swaying you to a rhythm he is fond of, absentminded almost — it reminded you of how Vermax oft like to wrap around small hills and large rocks. A dragon mimicking another dragon; a twin soul so connected.

He sighed again as you run your own fingers against the back of his palm, against the side of his head behind you. "You may do so as you wish," he finished, nuzzling further into you as if he wants no more than to become one with you, flesh and blood. An engorged monster of sorts.

"Just your wife?" you teased. The wedding had only been a few moons ago. The missive had been immediately sent to Kings Landing (under your orders, of course, your new husband none the wiser as he had preferred a few more days of just you), and before lunch, your hand on Jace's thigh, his eyes more than hungrily looking at your lips— Caraxes screech alongside Syrax' wing pattern shook the walls, demanding answers.

Jace had looked nervous for a second, not at all prepared to be facing his mother so soon, his Queen, and his stepfather... whose own daughter he was supposed to marry. Better prepared to face all of them in Kings Landing was his plan.

But you had grasped his hands, had mounted girlish excitement shining in your eyes (an expression so familiar to you to adopt that it so perfectly hides the sharp edges of your excitement; your smugness. It oft reminds you of Aemond)— and Jacaerys had melted.

"My Queen," he reimbursed. You turned as his hands cupped your face. Gentle, possessive in its own way. You sighed, eyes fluttering close with a small, satisfied smile on your lips. "My beautiful queen."

A Maiden in love is not a hard thing to emulate. And he does not make it hard to be.

On some days, you even think it will be easy to actually fall in love with him. You already do so feel his warmth for you permeate your own being. His attention is addicting for one; it is whole and preserving. He makes it known when he is looking at his lady mother, at Baela, his former betrothed (who had given you a meaningful eye when Rhaenyra and Daemon escorted you back to Kings Landing to face the rest of your consequences), and other ladies of the court versus when he is looking at you.

He does not hide his adoration. His so obvious desire.

When you reward him for his loyalty, for private little ticked boxes you keep for him— siding with you in arguments, defending you upon ugly whispers in the Keep, requesting from his mother, a more permanent residence of your own in Dragonstone, in the guise of newly wedded bliss to hide growing your connections far and wide (once Rhaenyra takes the throne, Jacaerys will be named Heir and Prince of Dragonstone; your spiders and people must reach each end of Westeros, and Dragonstone is the perfect central chatter) — you mount him and bask at the lust contorting his features, at his hands gripping your waist in a staccato rhythm of feeling and gasp, each harsh bounce of your hips sending you both to bliss. You feel him inside you so deeply, enjoy his eyes rolling back and exposing his neck for you to sink bruises on.

Most oft, he enjoys mounting you. And you like the alternative of his choice to be buried so deep you feel him in your throat; to hold you down and hold you close, telling you to keep your eyes open for him as you come undone again and again— time and practice can manage his newness to the act. His enthusiasm, both for the act and for you, definitely helps his case, and he is so fond of finding your pleasure, of leading you to the precipe, so addicted to your sounds and writhes.

"There? Is that it, little dragon?" he huffs against your mouth, so attentive as he held your wrist and watch as you gasp, your face twisting as he hits that point inside of you, that sweet, sweet spot of undeniable pleasure buried so deep within— that he laughs. Not meanly, but of pride as he pulls back and hits it again. More insistent. You mewl and scratch his back, your toes curling as you seek the pleasure he so enjoys insisting you into.

"I've found it again, didn't I?" Another snap of his hips, another cry of your lips. "I will fuck your sweetest spot until you- are- crying- my name in that sweet, sweet whine of yours, shall I?"

But it's not really a question privy to an answer, surely not by your own mouth but by your body, as he manhandles you easily and does not stop until you are a quivering, overstimulated mess against wet sheets.

Sometimes, when you can't help but reward him as soon as possible— so excited from his gallant display; the perfect King bowing to his wife — you drag him to shadowy corners and solemnly drop yourself on your knees, unlacing his breeches with deft precision. You place your hot mouth against his manhood, your eyes fluttering delicately, making him reach completion enough times that he is left with a dopey, simpleton of a smile afterward, a soft, chaste kiss against your your head, your nose, your lips. So tender to how he was fucking your mouth not but seconds ago.

"I love you," he whispers against hot skin and cool, salty air.

And it eases, every time he looks at you like that, holds like you that. His love is patient, sweet, kind, and devouring. It overflows and seeps into you that when you whisper back, just as soft, just as troublingly honest, "Avy jorrāelan, ñuha zaldrīzes, I love you, my dragon," the truth of them bleeds further and further into your heart.

Jacaerys.

A warm grief swells within you. Your hands twitch, flattening your grief beneath your chest, deep in your gut. Deep below. You fought hard to be here. You cannot lose him now.

Otto Hightower must die.

A cruel thought, a natural order. With your marriage to Jacaerys meant a relative peace, a truce. Moving to Dragonstone many moons was more than just to establish your position, your future. It was also for your darling sister to take better control of her position back in the centre of power, alongside her husband.

Aged well with a stronger alley who most would not dare defy— a vainglorious guard dog, really, one who isn't afraid to sic people with a mere nod from his master — more than evens out the playing field.

The Queen To Be is prospering. And in her prosper, meant your husband's position more than fulfilled. He was to be King, and with you as his Queen, his reign will want for not.

You should have known it would put Otto on defense, would panic and use your siblings and your poor, nervy mother, to move in unfeasible decisions.

Aegon had taken to calling him grandsire again. Aemond... Your spiders had told you that Lucerys was sent to Storm's End as no more than a casual reminder of Lord Borros' oath. Viserys was in no doubt in worse conditions than he had been the last time you or your husband had visited him. Rhaenyra was settling on her position, reminding the Great Houses which heir was meant to rise soon, so close to the changing of the guard.

And your little brother no doubt was moved in panic.

This was a slip up on your part. Once the King was dead, Otto Hightower would hold no cards; Rhaenyra would never take him as Lord Hand, and his daughter would no longer be a foreground of power. Rhaenyra has her heir. The winning hand is more than ensured on her part.

His only move would be an usurpation, and would ruin your chance at being Queen... it was a good move. Your twin was not made for duty whilst you craved it. He knows you better than you know yourself; you will not be played in his palm. You would be useless to him.

"I should have killed him," you murmur to yourself.

Yna, the last maid in your arsenal, steps forward. She is the youngest of your main three wards, and the newest. She is still learning her letters, but she is young and always eager to serve.

"My lady?"

"I am going to find the prince. Whatever happens, tell them Vermax must not leave with his rider. Make up any excuse you must. My husband must stay in Dragonstone until I say otherwise." You raise your chin, tone icy. "Anyone who dares to defy my orders will be beheaded."

"At once, princess."

Your steps are measured, your breath held between lie and tongue. So many pretty rings on your fingers, twisting and twisting at the idea of the confrontation plagues you.

But you raise your chin. You will not be defeated. All is not lost.

Dyanna had caught you at Aegon's Garden, windblow hair and wide, fearful eyes.

You had braced yourself. "The Prince?"

"The Stone Drum, my princess, he is..."

"Angry," you supplied. She nodded jerkily. "Tell me everything."

"The Prince was talking with Ser Robert, was about the missive sent from Kings Landing says Kevan, not soon after your own." Another spider, one that follows most of your husband's movements. Unassuming and quick on his feet. A good soldier. "Prince Lucerys is alive but badly maimed." The breath you had withheld between grit and fright unrolled, the world slamming back into the ground in a giant's fitful wake. "He still hasn't woken up, says Arrax took most of the damage— one wing torn but is awake. Dunno about recovery for dragons, 'specially against Vhagar. Mournin' the prince, Kevan says. Makin' loud, sad dragon noises."

"But he is alive?" you pressed. Aemond's life hung in its balance. Your sweet, vengeful baby brother who bore his tragedies between muted teeth and rage.

"Yes."

"And Aemond?"

"No word in the missive or between them." It made your throat tight, the convulsion restraining your neck once more.

"It's fine. As long as there no mention of his death. Then that's all I need."

"My lady, there's more. There might be a reason we haven't been getting much word from King's Landing. Or Oldtown. It seems to connect is all."

Your pulse jumped. "Tell me later. I have to see to the prince. No one is allowed in Stone Drum for the time being. Not unless absolutely necessary." You think and you think hard. "Ready to call in a maestre."

Dyanna had looked alarmed when you left her, but you only gave a pensive smile. A soldier's nod.

He is bent over the Painted Table, shoulders so hunched, reminding you of monsters and tall tales. A dragon, really. He may not have Velaryon blood, your husband, but you— nor others — could deny the thrum of fire in his blood. Roiling and boiling, so engulf in his rage, his voice is quiet at the approach of your footsteps.

"You have bound me to Dragonstone," he says calmly with all the quiet rage you can hear in your very soul. It makes you shiver, but you stand resolute.

He is still turned away, away from you, palms flat on the surface. The iron brazier is lit up, and so is the Painted Table itself.

"Can you honestly tell me you won't try and kill my brother if I let you, ñuha valzȳrys my husband?" you say softly. You plead. His refusal to turn to you spikes your madness in corners. The night reaches and you finger your rings as you try not to spill all over the floor; your own madness, your own fears, your quiet, quiet webs. "Aren't you at least satisfied at the thought of your stepfather excelling at planting Dark Sister to his neck? At least cheery at the idea of him suffering inside those dungeons?"

He spins then, rage—white hot and spilling — breathes as he bellows, "He has harmed my brother!"

You calmly met his gaze. "You do not know that for sure."

He laughs without mirth, arms wide and daring. Crazed anger outlandish and wild, while in response you tighten and become small.

But you do not cower. No truth cowers. And you are a princess. A dragon the same as he.

Lest all, he is a mere husband.

"What else could it be? Your brother has called us bastards our entire lives," he spits. "Neither of us are blind to his dark looks. Despite your family's attempted plots, his rage beholds him. His grudge is stronger. He attacked Lucerys, on fucking dragonback— Arrax, a dragon Luke has barely flown against your brother's war dragon — and that makes him a kinslayer."

Your blood leaps, and you cannot control your own fear, your own anger. "Do not throw that word around so carelessly, Jacaerys! My brother has killed no kin!"

"He has tried, " he hisses and it makes your eyes burn because he has never looked at you so before. At his thunderous footsteps to reach you, to aggravate you, you fight the urge to flinch. His anger spills and spoils you. You try not to curdle. You keep yourself braced. Kinslayer is so ugly said aloud. "That is enough of a brand to call him kinslayer."

Your jaw tightens, tears unleashed from your eyes and there's a glimmer there— a spark, of your Jace. Your husband. It is small and short, a comet so faint it is almost nothing, but it is there.

He does not like to see you cry, your Jace. Not if it isn't from pleasure.

You raise your chin. "My brother is no kinslayer. Lucerys is alive. Do not make Aemond what he is not."

He laughs humourlessly against your face, his hand reaching for your jaw, thumb over your chin, but the mock gentleness wounds you worse. "And who has alerted you of the news? Your twin usurper?"

"W-what?" Blood rushes to your head. Something is missing. He knows. He knows about grandsire's plans. Dyanna would have said. Dyanna didn't know. "Aegon is not an usurper," you whisper, faint but firm.

His thumb rubs against your bottom lip, his eyes tracing your face. "Is this the plan all along, then?" he says softly. "While your brother and grandsire plot to usurp the throne from my mother, and your younger brothers raise bannermen from Oldtown to Storm's End, and try to kill my own when they get the chance, I suppose your job is to warm my bed and to ensure I'm out of the fray before you kill me in my—"

His words stutter for you have slapped him. It is not the hardest move on your part, and he stops not from pain but from shock. Tears freely flow down your face now as you push him off you.

"I know nothing of these plots you speak of." That in much is true. These plots are half-assed. Made in panic and fear, and it makes you curse Otto Hightower to the depths of further Hell. "And you may bully me as you wish, husband, but I will not take it as if it does not hurt me. As if- as if I would take pleasure from your death."

He raises his chin, so defiant in his own anger that he clenches his jaw. "Are you telling me you took no part in your grandsire's plans?"

"We have been married for many moons now. I think, out of anyone on this island, amongst our family even, you would know me best. I have only ever truly bloomed in your presence," you say softly. Lies and truths are balanced so precariously; they spin and spin in a tantalising grip that even you don't know where fabrication meets honesty.

If your own lies befuddle you, why not your truths to him?

"If you are doubting me, then you are doubting our marriage, is it not?" You give a mirthless laugh of your own, chin wobbling as you brush your tears away. His eyes track your movements and his brows are furrowed. "Is it ease, that has turned you so from me? Has your doubt been seeded long before you took us to Dragonstone? To affirm your mother that you have wedded me? Yes, Aegon sent me a missive a mere hour ago. He says Aemond had been urged by our grandsire, no doubt played with as he had done so to our mother, as he tries with Aegon. With me."

Jacaerys' eyes darken. Bottomless pits of dark, dark eyes. You've grown to love them you realised.

"I will give you all the violet-eyed heirs you desire," you had purred once in your new marriage bed, having just christened (one to a few times) your new marital chambers in Dragonstone. "But I do so wish I get a babe with your eyes."

"They are hardly exemplary," Jace had said, snorting. His hand rested on your back while you rest on top of him. The air is acrid in sweat and sex, but neither of you mind. "They are not a show of Valyrian blood."

"Who cares?" You reached to dance your finger against his lashes. "A daughter with your eyes... I fear, I would spoil her rotten. She would be an absolute beauty."

"Are you calling me a beauty?" he teased, trying to hide his rosy cheeks.

"Your eyes, yes," you teased back.

"If I was such a pawn to him," you say now. "If I was using you as you so callously accused me of, why would I bother with a marriage with you? You are right, they have accused you of not being a trueborn Velaryon—" He flinches. "—So why would Otto decide marrying you was a good idea at all? Any babes I carry would be questioned, and it would serve no benefit at all if the main plot was Aegon usurping the throne. To keep you entertained? Hardly. It would serve him better, as was his earlier plan, if I had married Aegon myself."

He loses his stance, a grit in his teeth gives you way to a slow curl of possession. A renewed sense of anger. His fists clenched at his sides.

You found a thread. You don't just unspool, you decide, you will yank, and you will yank hard.

"Aegon is a firstborn male heir, even as twins. It made sense to anyone who understood Targaryen customs that marrying us would be the natural order. It did not matter any past transgressions he may have had, I keep him better. I am his tether to this world. It was obvious to anybody with eyes that if we were to marry, we would breed good Valyrian stock, our children—"

But he has lurched forward, grasping your face, seething, angry at an idea, at a diverted road.

"He wanted us to marry," you continue, a snake's hiss that it is. "But your mother sent a missive asking for Helaena's hand, and I had already told her I wanted someone else. I wanted you." You grasp his leather, pulling him to you in equal ferocity. Madness meeting a mirror. "From the very start, grandsire could not control me for my blood sung for you. I had done my very best to free my siblings from him, resigned myself to be their forever protector inside that Keep with no real power of my own, but when the Gods gave me the chance to have you, I had been selfish. I abandoned them for you. Because I wanted to be yours for a night, I was willing to have that, if it is the only moment you will grant me."

You are crying again, and lies are spinning with their truths, golden and bloodstained, but you are cracking him.

"But it was you, Jacaerys Velaryon, who had asked for my hand. You wanted to marry, whisk us away to Dragonstone, and I love you too much to blind myself to the idea of becoming your wife would not be a totally selfish act, for what act of ours would be considered selfish if it was borne out of love?" you sob hard, grasping and reaching against him, trying to shake and ruin him. "I thought you loved me, and yet here you are, accusing me of plotting? What? Usurping your mother? Killing you in your godsdamned sleep?"

"Wife, I—"

"No. I am sorry for what happened to Lucerys. But if it is vengeance that is truly what you seek, and in the morrow my brother," my choke out. "My brother would be announced d-dead, I would rather you kill me now for it seems I have not only failed them from my grandsire's clutches, I have also failed at being your wife."

Your hands reach in and pull his dagger out, and he is instinctive, a true swordsman, holding onto the dagger before your own. But you do not give up. You yank him forward so suddenly, the dagger now positioned over your heart.

You keep him there, defiant as you are. As no true dragon is afraid of metal. Metal melt in the face of dragonfire.

The tip of his dagger deepens against your skin as war rages in his own mind. Truths and lies spinning and spinning in his head, but your thread— your thread is Hightower green clung in blood and gold — and it's the brightest, twisting beneath his lids and rage. Rage and grief, the tethering madness is spilling, trying to break into the dragon's clutches—

But your Jace is strong. He holds it at bay with a fury.

It is love, it is love, it is love.

But you are not sure. And you have to be.

You have been betrayed already, your Jace cannot betray you. If you are to have a future with him as King, there must be no doubts.

You step forward, letting the blade sink against your skin. It draws blood. A few beads bloom and slide. Thick red in a string or two. It makes his jaw tighten, and you feel, almost impercibly, the strain in his hand give.

That flash of panic, panic bathed in love, in adoration, is all you need.

You grasp his hands in yours, blade nestled between two grips now, and he gasps, thinking you were going to push him away finally, but no. You hold on tight to his hands, nails digging into his skin, keeping the blade where it is before you push forward once more. The tip sinks into your flesh, blood gushes as pain explodes.

"What are you doing!? Let go!" he roars, but you stare at his eyes, brown, so pretty, framed in featherlight lashes, did he even know there are violet flecks in his eyes?

You will not harm me, you think. You realise. For you have given yourself to me body and soul. Even the Gods know.

"Will you forsake me, husband?" your voice is no higher than a whisper, than a wind's hum. It is hollow and cracking. A siren song. In the silence, it is a whip cracking against petty flesh. Against a beating heart thrumming for you. "And the babe I carry?"

Before the words register in his brain, you yank his hands again with every strength you can muster, the dagger, to hover over your stomach. Your Jace roars, pulling with his entire strength as complete fear in floods his beautiful, brown eyes. The strength propels your force of gravity, and you fall with a hard thud. The dagger is flung in the second as he reaches for you, cold-curdled terror ruining his face as he tries to make sense of where to touch you.

The fall is hard enough that you wince. And your instincts, new as it is, is to curl your hands protectively over your stomach.

"M-my heart? Does it hurt? I-I am so sorry, I-A MAESTRE, CALL A MAESTRE FOR THE PRINCESS NOW!"

Your child is strong, you have always known that in your heart.

The second you held suspicion, pressing against the tender flesh of your breast to the nausea that kicked in out of nowhere, before Maestre Gerardys had confirmed: you are with child. Your firstborn. The heir of heirs. You could not wait to meet him.

"I hope it is a boy," you murmur weakly into the darkened space of your chambers. You don't turn as Jacaerys' head snaps, his hands over your own, sat on a chair by your bedside. Relief, guilt, fear breaks and crashes in waves against him, trying to nudge you, but you don't look. You stare from your position on the bed; forward and into nothingness.

"My love," he breathes, hands against your own warm and tight. "I am so, so sorry. I shall call for a maestre—"

"No need." Your other hand moves to your stomach. An emotion glimmers in his gaze at the movement. "My babe is strong. Blood of the dragon that he is. I know him already in my blood. Call for my maid instead. Any of them. Tell them to move my things to a different room, perhaps the one above Aegon's Garden. By morn, I will fly to Kings Landing to be with my family."

Panic fills and breaks. His hold tightens. "I-If that is what you wish, we can go as soon as Maestre Gerardys says it is alright for you and the—"

You turn to him, finally, your eyes dead of emotion. "I will go for I do not think you would like your would-be murderer to sleep beside you, haunting you with a dagger. This way, I can take advice from my mother about births and the like, and you can sleep comfortably. Do not worry, I will not poison you to your child's mind. You may visit him as you would like. You might even take comfort in knowing your mother would look for him as if he were hers. She is so very motherly, I'm sure she would enjoy a grand..."

Your words drift off as he had fallen to his knees, tears soaking your hand as he presses it to his face. You feel like the Mother, looking down on a penitent. Or the Father. Or the Stranger. You feel complete, as his apologies fall in graceless, shaky exhales and sobs. The axe is in your hand. His neck is exposed.

"—I will do anything, a-anything for your f-forgiveness. Y-You can move rooms if it comforts you, I will not s-shadow your doorway, but please. Please. Do not leave me. Anything. I will do anything."

You, and you alone, is the owner of his absolution.

You smile, despite yourself.

Maybe you should reward your grandsire after all.

TAGGED (bold means I couldn't tag you: @inkareds @marihoneywk @caterina-caterina @ahristata

[miryum]

"Negotiation"

Summary: Detective!Jason Todd x detective!Reader based on Jake and Amy's relationship

Series Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of violence (but nothing descriptive), guns and other police stuff

Series Masterlist

“L/n,” Wayne rapped his fist on Y/n’s desk urgently. “There was a botched B&E at a jewellery store on Benbrock that just turned into a hostage situation.” He sighed and said, “they want you to be the negotiator.”

Y/n gasped and let out a strangled noise of excitement. “Oh my God, my prayers have finally been answered!”

“You pray for a hostage situation?” Jason asked incredulously.

“Yes, I did.” Y/n turned to him, serious as stone. “Every single day.”

Jason frowned, more concerned for the hostages after they heard Y/n’s jokes than Y/n herself. He knew she could handle herself. ”I don't understand. Why isn't ESU handling this?”

“Apparently, the hostage-taker asked for Y/n by name.” Wayne raised a brow and stared down at his detective like she had an answer.

“Oh, it's getting even cooler!” Y/n hummed and contemplated, “man, I wonder who it is. Maybe it's the sister of someone I put away for life. Ooh! Or the identical twin of someone I put away for life. Ooh! Or the fraternal twin of-”

Captain Wayne cut off her tangent. “L/n! Just get down there! And take Drake with you.”

“You got it!” Y/n beamed and jumped up. “Yep, yep, yep.” She turned to Tim who had come to stand next to her. “How do I look? Police-y enough?” She waved him off before he could answer. “It doesn't matter. Let's go negotiate!”

When Tim and Y/n got the the jewellery store, the block was closed off and police cars were surrounding the building, sirens going on and off periodically. Y/n waltzed up to the area and pronounced, “don’t panic, everyone, I'm here.” An officer beckoned her over and Y/n introduced herself. “I'm Y/n L/n, the negotiator.”

The man stared at her, unimpressed. “So you're Y/n L/n?”

“The negotiator, yes. And… who are you?”

“Arnold Flass, ESU. This was my crime scene before you bozos got here.”

Tim sipped on his coffee before noting, “nice to meet you too, Arnold.”

“I've spent ten years as a negotiator and you just took my first hostage situation,” Arnold exclaimed. “All I've done up until now is talk jumpers off of rooftops.”

“Well, that must be satisfying in its own way, right?” Y/n offered. Tim walked off to talk to a more senior, professional officer.

Arnold scoffed. “Yeah, really satisfying saving a crazy person's life. Here's a little advice: I don't like you.”

“Not so much advice as a hurtful statement based on limited interaction,” Y/n muttered.

“He wants to talk to you,” Tim came back and motioned to Y/n.

Arnold rolled his eyes and ripped the label off his vest. He handed it to Y/n begrudgingly. “Get the hell in there.”

“Oh, it says ‘negotiator’ on it.” Y/n happily put it on and weaved through the crowd of officers and bystanders. She took a bullhorn from a cop and called into it, “this is Y/n L/n. I am unarmed and I'm approaching the building.” The door swung open ominously and Y/n glanced back at Tim. He gave her a nod of encouragement. “You wanted to talk to me?” Y/n stepped into the jewellery store, peeking around the corner.

“Keep those hands in the air,” a voice commanded. Then, in a lighter tone, the voice joked, “and wave 'em like you just don't care.”

“What?” Y/n’s brows furrowed, confused.

The hostage-taker finally came into view. “I'm just messing with you, L/n.” Roy Harper grinned. “Put your hands down, give me a hug, darling.”

“Roy!” 

“Okay, so are we gonna talk about it?” Steph slipped into the seat next to Jason and leaned on his desk.

“Nope.”

“Todd, you frustrate me,” Damian said. Steph blinked at him, not realising he was listening in.

Jason’s chest clenched. “There is nothing we need to talk about.”

“I disagree,” Damian muttered. 

“Listen,” Jason turned away from his computer and Steph knew that it was about to get real. “I just went out on another date with Rose. She’s a lovely girl and I was thinking of taking it to the next step. I’m planning on asking her to be my official girlfriend tomorrow night.”

Steph shook her head. “Yeah, that’s not gonna work. You see, my big plan in life is to push you and Y/n together so you can all be happy and possibly make even cuter babies.” 

Jason blushed and swallowed thickly. “I’m not interested in L/n.” 

Damian scoffed. “Brown, we have a lie detector at the precinct, correct?”

Steph grinned, eyes lighting up with mischief. “Hey…. Richard!” she called to Dick. “Wanna have a little fun?” Dick looked up, beaming impishly.

“I gotta admit, man,” Roy said, shrugging. “I thought you'd be more happy to see me. Why’re you being so weird?”

“Oh, I don't know.” Y/n pursed her lips together. “I didn't sleep well last night, so I’m just tired. Oh, and also, this is a hostage situation!”

“Wow!” Roy sucked in a dramatic breath. “It's like that.”

“Yes, it's like that. What the hell, man? You called me, remember? You promised me that you wouldn’t do anything to wind up in jail!” Y/n referenced the time when Roy called her in the middle of the night to promise to stop his life as a criminal.

“I didn’t! I work at Tiffany and Co. now.” He rested a proud hand on his chest. ”I sell luxury jewels to the rich and famous and I do it legally. Last week I sold a sapphire necklace to the dude who played Johnny in Hotel Transylvania.”

“You met Johnny?” Y/n exclaimed. “Was he cool? Does he actually like vampires in real life? Wait- no.” She caught herself. “We’re not chatting right now. You have three hostages.”

“You mean Pam and the two Bobs?” Roy looked at the three people on the floor, rope loosely tied around their wrists. “They’re not hostages. I prefer to call them ‘collateral friendships.’ I gave them each one hundred bucks out of my own pocket.”

One of the Bobs spoke up. “Thanks again, Roy.”

The other Bob nodded his head in agreement. “You’re the man, Roy.”

Pam stuttered, “a-actually, I'd rather not be a hostage.”

“Pam hasn't come around to me yet.” Roy shrugged. “Tell her I'm a nice person, Y/n.”

“I'm so sorry,” Y/n said to Pam.

“Officer, are you friends with this criminal?” Pam asked, aghast.

Y/n’s nose scrunched up. “Not really…”

However, Roy replied at the same time, “absolutely, best friends.”

“It's a layered relationship, Pam,” Y/n defended.

“Best friends,” Roy corrected.

”Harper,” Y/n hissed, pulling him towards the door. “What is going on, dude?”

“This isn't my fault, darling!” Roy protested. “Two years ago before I went straight, I stole a big ruby from a drug dealer: Jack Napier.”

“Oh, no, Roy.” Y/n groaned. ”He's a bad guy.”

Roy whined, “I know! When I realised it was his jewel, I torched the briefcase it was in along with the drugs that were in there! Who the hell puts drugs and rubies in the same briefcase?!”

“Oh, no, Roy,” Y/n groaned in the same pitch as before. ”Briefcase drugs?”

“Millions of dollars of them! Napier just found out it was me. Said I had to do a job for him to pay off my debt.”

“But did you tell him you went straight? Did you tell him about Johnny?” Y/n asked desperately.

“I did. He said he didn’t watch Hotel Transylvania.” 

“Oh, this guy is the worst.”

“I know.” Roy’s voice turned desperate and low. “L/n, he said he's gonna kill Lian if I don't do this job.”

Y/n’s eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open. “He can't do that. I won’t let him do that. The GCPD can help you guys. We can put you in witness protection!”

Roy shook his head. “I can’t mess up my daughter’s life ‘cause of my mistakes. That's why I'm here stealing this big ‘ole bag of rubies; to make up for the one I stole. Y/n, you know how dangerous this guy can be.” He took a breath. “I need you to help me save my daughter.”

“How can I help?” Y/n responded immediately. 

“Easy. I have a plan that's good for everyone. All I need is for you to-”

“-let him go so he can arrange a drop with Napier.” Y/n explained Roy’s plan to Tim. “We arrest Napier, save Lian, Roy turns himself in, and why is that amazing, Tim?”

“Napier’s a huge crime boss,” Tim answered.

“Aaaand what else?”

“GCPD's been trying to get Napier for years.”

“And?”

“That's it.”

“Yeah, it is.” Y/n said, “so, since we all agree, I'll go tell Roy the plan is on.” She swung around to go back inside, but Arnold stopped her.

“No, we don't all agree. He's trapped and frantic. Everything he told you is a lie.”

“Why do you say he's lying?” Y/n asked.

Arnold frowned. “That's all negotiating is. Two liars lie until one liar stands too close to the window and gets shot in the head.”

Y/n scoffed loudly. “That can't be all negotiating is!” She noticed Tim’s head lolling to the side. “Timmy, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but have some more coffee.”

“It absolutely is. Now, get in there and coax him to a window.” Arnold pressed a button on his walkie talkie. “Snipers to one. The window plan is on. I repeat: The window plan is on.”

“No, no, no, no, no!” Y/n cried and tugged the walkie talkie away from Arnold. “Snipers to zero! Snipers take a nap. The nap plan is on. It's nap time, snipers!” 

A couple minutes later, Y/n regretfully told Roy, “ESU won't take your deal. They think you're lying.”

“I'm not lying!” Roy gasped dramatically, offended. “I don't wanna be a criminal. I love my life as an average citizen. I voted for the first time this year! It was huge. Lian helped me fill in the little boxes. She chose Ed Breakfast for school board.”

“Who?”

“I don't know,” Roy muttered. “He had a funny name. He deserves a shot.”

“That's exactly why I voted for Stacy Ladle! Anyway, I'm sorry, but they're not cutting a deal.”

“So that's it?” Roy sighed. “I gotta turn myself in and let Napier kill Lian? You’ll take care of her, right?”

 Y/n’s heart broke and she could feel a plan formulating in her mind. “Actually… there might be another way.”

“Alright, Todd.” Dick strutted in front of Jason. “We’re gonna do this one time and one time only. Do you have feelings for Y/n?” 

“Are you shitting me?” Jason’s head fell into his hands. He was strapped to a lie detector test that Steph was currently monitoring. “We’re actually doing this?”

“Yep!” Dick said. “We have to know. Now, let’s go over the evidence.”

Damian wheeled in a large cork-board which was covered in index cards, push pins, and signature red string. The index cards said things like: ‘Halloween incident,’ ‘Valentine’s Day nicknames,’ ‘1000 pushups blanket,’ ‘googly eyes,’ ‘lack of dates,’ and more.

As Jason read over the cards, his face slowly got more and more red. Dick gleefully snapped a polaroid picture of Jason’s current face and secured it to the board, adding it as another factor of evidence. 

Roy shouted from the doorway of the jewellery store. “I've taken your negotiator hostage! If you come in here, I will shoot her.”

Y/n wailed, “just do whatever he says! My life is in his hands! Please!” 

Roy slammed the door behind them and then broke out in giggles. “That was so much fun!”

“Oh, man, you sounded really scary.” Y/n exhaled.

“No, no, it was all you. The tremble in your voice sold it. ‘Just do whatever he says.’” Roy mimicked Y/n’s panicked voice

“I mean, I just made that up. Ah, I was so in the moment.” Y/n silently praised herself on her acting skills.

“Darling, seriously? You are a great hostage,” Roy complimented.

“Aw, thanks, Harper. You're a great hostage-taker.”

Outside, Arnold was talking to Tim, lamenting, “I can't believe L/n got taken hostage. The good news is… I'm now the negotiator. Finally!” He slapped another marker labelled ‘negotiator’ on. 

“Congratulations,” Tim said dryly.

“I've been waiting for this moment for so long!” Arnold exclaimed.

Roy’s voice from the bullhorn cut him off. “I'm ready to negotiate. But I'll only talk to Tim Drake.”

“That's me, Arnold.” Tim ripped Arnold’s label off and placed it on himself.

“Oh, come on!”

“Welcome, my man!” Roy waved to Tim when the latter entered the store. “I don’t think we’ve met before, have we? I’m Y/n’s bestie. I’m a hugger; bring it in.” He walked over to Tim with open arms.

Tim, however, yanked on one of those arms and looped it over Roy’s head, effectively holding him in place. “Roy Harper, you're under arrest.”

“Holy fuck, Tim’s strong?” Y/n mumbled. “But he’s so lanky and only runs on coffee. Wait, Tim, stop.”

“What's going on?” Tim grunted as he tried to place cuffs on Roy.

“Look, this is not really a hostage situation. I mean, Pam and the two Bobs are definitely being held against their will, but not for much longer.”

Roy spoke up, trying to be helpful. “Y/n’s helping me take down Napier.”

“We can't do it without you,” Y/n pleaded.

“Seriously, L/n?” Tim scoffed. “Isn’t this the guy that you and Cass tried to take down? The one you did a thousand push ups for?” 

“You did a thousand push ups for me?” Roy cooed. 

“Not important.” 

“This is like that story my dad told me as a little kid. He used to quiz me on fables from different cultures.” Tim said, finally releasing Roy. “You're the frog and he's a scorpion. You're gonna help him across the river. In the end, he'll sting you. And then you'll both drown.”

“Geez, that's dark.” Y/n grimaced.

“Yeah, I’d never tell Lian that story,” Roy said.

“My parents didn't read to me at all,” Y/n commented. “I just watched cartoons ’till I fell asleep. Do you think that our childhoods shape the adults we become?” She hummed thoughtfully.

“They do,” Roy and Tim said at the same time.

“And cartoons shaped you into a naive little frog,” Tim said.

“Okay, first off,” Y/n held up a finger. “Little frogs are adorable, and second, he's not that kind of scorpion anymore.”

“I'm a changed bug,” Roy said.

“Actually, scorpions are arthropods.” Tim and Y/n spoke together. Tim looked at her, surprised. “What?” She shrugged. “I listened to the documentary you made us watch. Tim, I know he used to be a criminal and has fooled me in the past, and yes, he is currently engaged in criminal activity.”

“Innocent until proven guilty,” Roy reminded Tim. “But yes, I technically am robbing the store.”

“But, Tim, his daughter is in danger and we have to help her. He agreed to turn himself in when this is all over. Right, Roy?” Y/n scrutinised him.

“I promise.”

Tim sighed. “Cass warned me about him. But okay. What do you need from me?”

“We have an airtight plan.” Roy grinned. He poked the bullhorn out of the door and shouted, ”all we demand is pizza!”

“I’m in a relationship with Rose,” Jason insisted.

“You’re not answering the question!” Dick exclaimed, growing more frustrated. 

“That’s because the question is stupid and doesn’t need to be answered!”

“Todd, you must have lost half your brain if you think you’re fooling us.” Damian didn’t look impressed.

“Jason,” Steph exhaled. “By not answering the question, you’re answering the question.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t make sense.” Jason shot back lamely.

“It’s okay to have feelings for L/n.” Steph said, oddly calmly. “You’re not admitting defeat.”

“No, I’m aware, but just…” he sighed heavily and stared down at the table. “What if she doesn’t like me back?”

Steph slowly shut off the computer and the lie detector. Damian had a rare look of sympathy glazing over his eyes. “But she does,” Dick said softly. “She’s told all of us herself. Right, guys?” he asked his friends. 

“If I had a nickel…” Steph smiled and huffed, trailing off.

“She’s interrupted many movie nights with tangents of you,” Damian frowned at the fact. He had yet to finish The Gladiator because of Y/n.

“We'll be safe here,” Roy directed Y/n towards a small, neon-lit shop. Tim had provided them a distraction long enough for Roy and Y/n to sneak away. Tim said he would meet with them later. “I know the owner. He'd never turn me in.”

“Yeah,” Y/n nodded along knowingly. “I have the same relationship with the guy who runs this laser tag place I love. I- I mean, gun range.”

Roy chuckled. “L/n, why’re you lying to me, huh? I love laser tag! We gotta go sometime, darling.” He led her inside the place and to a back room which had a large screen and a karaoke machine plugged in and ready to go.

Y/n beamed. “I was hoping you'd say that. Alright, let's text Napier and set up the drop.”

“Okay, yeah. ‘Got the diamonds. Let's meet.’” He clicked his phone and the message was sent. “Done.”

“Okay, now we wait.” She clicked her tongue and hummed. “You know, it’s kinda weird, sitting silently in a private karaoke room, not singing.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. “But we're on a mission, so, you know, we gotta stay focused.”

“True, true, true, true, true, true.”

“So I wake in the morning and I step outside and I TAKE a deep breath and I GET! REAL! HIGH! And I scream at the top of my lungs ‘WHAT’S GOIN’ ON?’” Roy sang in a falsetto as Y/n accompanied him in a lower tone.

In the middle of the song, Roy’s phone dinged and he paused the song. “Ugh. It’s Napier.”

Y/n pouted in disappointment. “Yeah….”

“The drop is set for 5:00 p.m.” Roy informed her. 

“Let's do this.”

“Totally. Although…” Roy shot Y/n a knowing look. “That is an hour and a half from now.”

“And the drop point is actually pretty close to here,” Y/n added.

“So..."

“DANCING QUEEN! YOUNG AND SWEET! ONLY SEVENTEEN OOOOOOOH…”

Tim walked into the room and slowly sipped on his coffee, looking more tired than ever.

“I feel more sympathy for our perps now.” Jason ripped the lie detector off himself. 

“Can you please just admit that at some point, past or present, you’ve had feelings for Y/n L/n?” Dick begged. They had spent over three hours in the interrogation room, grilling Jason on his feelings and not getting any work done.

“If it makes you let me go, then yes.” 

“I’ll take it!” Steph cried. “It’s close enough!”

“I still say I could’ve made fine use out of a pair of pliers.” Damian glared at Jason. Jason couldn’t help but shudder under his stare. 

“Torture me all you want,” Jason said. “But I don’t like Y/n like that. She’s like a sister to me. We’ve worked together for over four years. I don’t love her romantically.” 

If he had still been connected to the lie detector, its lines would’ve jumped widely.

Steph said quietly, “just know this: to remember is to love.”

Roy explained the plan to Tim and Y/n in the parking lot where Napier would meet them. “First, a jeweller will come out and inspect the rubies. Then, when he gives the okay, Napier will come and get them.”

“And then I'll take him down.” Y/n cracked her knuckles dramatically.

“Here we go,” Roy mumbled as an expensive car pulled up and a thin man got out. Harper, Drake, and L/n got out of Y/n’s old car and Roy greeted, “What's up, dude? Did anybody ever tell you that you look like the most interesting man in the world? You get that a lot?” After an awkward silence, Roy inhaled sharply. “Geez, I get it. We're not friends.”

The thin man held out his hand and Roy placed the sack of small rubies in it. The man inspected a random ruby and then nodded. Another man got out of the car and Roy said, “There he is. Napier! What's up, Mr. Napier? How’re you doing?” Napier’s car pulled away to give them some privacy.

“Shut up.” Napier licked his lips. “Give me the rubies.”

A new voice shouted from the other end of the parking lot. “L/N!” 

Y/n cringed. “No, no, no, not now.”

Arnold yelled out, “I tracked your phone, idiot. I knew you were working with this criminal! You were gonna double cross us!”

Y/n’s head whipped back to Napier, but he was already running down the street, phone pressed to his ear, likely calling his driver.

Arnold gasped. “That's Napier. Harper wasn’t lying. Well, we gotta arrest him!” Arnold grabbed Y/n’s vest and pulled her back.

“Y/n, he's running!” Tim cried, already in pursuit of Napier.

“Lemme go!” Y/n tried to yank away.

“Only if I get the collar and one hundred percent of the credit.” Arnold growled.

“Are you negotiating right now?”

“Always.”

“Okay, that was actually a really cool line. Deal. Let’s do it.” She pointed harshly at Roy. “Stay. Here.”

“Okay.” Roy shrugged.

Y/n and Arnold ran off after Napier, catching up to Tim. “GCPD!” Tim shouted. “Stop and put your hands in the air!” Napier continued running and Tim groaned. “Why don’t they ever listen?”

“Drake,” Y/n swerved towards another street. “I’ll block him off!”

“Not without me, you won’t!” Arnold changed direction and sprinted after Y/n. 

Napier’s eyes grew wide when he saw Y/n and Arnold appear ahead of him. He glanced over his shoulder and when he saw Tim, still in pursuit, he cried out in frustration. Y/n tackled him to the ground and threw handcuffs on him. After she was done Mirandizing him, she apologised to Arnold. “Sorry I ran out on you at the jewellery store. But I couldn't let this guy get away.”

“Look, I'm fine with it.” Arnold said. “Arresting Napier’s gonna get me a promotion and at the end of the day, that's what this is all about.”

Y/n squinted at him. “Right, that and getting a major drug lord off the streets.”

“Yeah, right. I don't care about that.”

Y/n stared at him, wide-eyed before brushing him off. “Whatever. Let's bring in Roy Harper.” She left Napier with Tim and ran back to the parking lot. Finding it empty, she cried, “Oh, fucking hell! Where is he? Roy? Roy?!”

Arnold saddled up behind her. “Don't worry. We'll get him. At least we have Napier and the rubies.”

Y/n simply shouted, “Roy!”

“Why are you still calling for him?”

“ROY!”

Arnold realised, “oh my God, he has the rubies, doesn't he?”

“Roy!” Y/n quickly composed her wits and muttered to herself, “I'm sure Harper didn't run off with the rubies. I bet he's looking for me right now. You know what, I bet he's worried that I’m in trouble!” She frantically pulled out her phone. “I'll just call him and put his mind at ease.”

Arnold raised a brow. “Lady, he's already gone.” He placed a hand on Y/n’s shoulder and Y/n pushed him off, giving him an icy glare. “He's not gonna picking up.” Y/n’s jaw clenched at Arnold’s words.

Suddenly, Roy’s voice filtered through her phone and she breathed a sigh of relief. “What's up, L/n?”

“Ha!” Y/n pointed a victorious finger at Arnold. “He did pick up. In your-”

“This is goodbye forever,” Roy cut her off.

“No!” Y/n stomped her foot. “I can't believe you deceived me. I can't believe you used my love for Lian against me.”

“I love that you love her.”

“Of course I do! She’s the living embodiment of the reminder that childhood innocence never dies.”

“Amen,” he agreed. “But, I wasn't lying though. Napier was gonna hurt her and you saved her life. Buuuut then I was all alone with the rubies and next thing I know, I'm hotwiring a car and driving away.

”But I thought you liked being a good citizen? You voted Ed Breakfast for school board!” Y/n whined. 

“And he immediately had a sex scandal.” Roy reminded her. “It was very disillusioning.”

“Understandable. Our democracy is crumbling. But, Roy, this is not what we’re talking about. They could take my badge!” 

“Tim was right.” Roy smiled faintly. “I'm a scorpion. I thought you knew me better by now. I'm sorry I can't be the man you want me to be.”

“Damn it, stop being so romantic.” Y/n choked on her words and begged, “now turn around and come back to me, you fool?” The line clicked and she called, “hello? Hello? He's gone…. He broke my heart.” Tim walked up behind her as her lip quivered theatrically. She turned towards her fellow detective and hugged him tightly. “Now you tell me everything's gonna be okay, Timmy boy!”

“Everything's gonna be okay,” Tim reassured monotonously.

“You don't know that, Tim!”

“I just got off the phone with the brass,” Captain Wayne said to Y/n. “It doesn't look good. They're still trying to decide on a punishment for your actions.”

Y/n sniffed and asked meekly, “Did you tell them I feel so bad I have a tummy ache?”

“I did. They were unaffected.”

“Are you sure it’s not cramps?” Jason pushed a box of chocolate towards his coworker. “It is your time of the month.”

Y/n grimaced in disgust. “It’s creepy that you know that.”

“Not really,” Tim said. “You, Steph, and Cass have all synced up. We all know when to have desserts in our desks.”

“I think even Kori is synced up to you guys,” Dick added. “Somehow.”

“So no.” Damian spoke up. “In this instance, Todd isn’t creepy.”

Y/n looked up at Wayne as if to ask his opinion on this matter. All he said is, “I have no comment to add in this conversation. Back to the topic at hand, the brass said they could’ve justified your tactics if you'd gotten Napier and the rubies, but as things stand, there are no rubies.” He sighed and said, “you're looking at a suspension, maybe worse. Unless you can track down Harper and recover those rubies.”

“Can they wait twelve months?” Y/n asked hopefully. “I usually run into him about once a year.” Her eyes caught on something on her desk. “Wait a minute. What doth we have here?”

Y/n walked into the karaoke place and looked around hesitantly. “I've got this coupon for a private room?”

“Yep,” a worker said. “Right this way. We already have a song cued up for you.”

The screen blinked on as soon as the worker left the room and a large picture of Roy Harper with Lian on his hip showed up.

Y/n shook her head and muttered, “Harper.”

“What's up, L/n?” the recording asked happily. “Thank you so much for coming. So, I thought about it and I think I did you dirty. I never meant to cause you any trouble.”

“Yeah, well, you caused me a lot.” Y/n kicked at something at her feet.

Roy chuckled and said, “you're talking to a pre-recorded video, but it's cool. I know what you're saying. I hear you in my heart,” he said emphatically.

Y/n rolled her eyes. “What am I doing here?” she asked herself.

“I feel the same way,” the recorded Roy placed a hand to his heart. “You’re my best friend too.” He nodded thoughtfully and said, “look, I'm not coming back. We started a new life here in San Diego.” He jostled Lian who was giggling on his hip.

Y/n shook her head, grinning. “It’s stupid telling me where you are.”

“Come on, darling, I’m not in damn San Diego.” Roy laughed loudly. “Everybody knows that place sucks! But, I got you a little something as a going away gift. It's on the table next to you.”

Y/n opened the small velvet sack and gasped. “The rubies. Yes! I- I can’t believe you actually brought them back…”

“The rubies!” Roy cried from the screen.

Y/n let out a lighthearted laugh. “Yeah, you mistimed that one.”

“No, you're the best. Look, even though I am a scorpion, I will never drown your adorable little frog ass. So that's all I gotta say.” He glanced down at Lian who was smiling happily, staring at something in the distance. “I'm sure I'll see you again at some point,” Roy said, his eyes softening. “But for now, that coupon you got there, that's for a full hour in a private room. So…”

“Oh mama mia, mama mia, mama mia, let me go! BeeLZEbub has a devil put aside for meeee… for meeee! For meEEEEEEEEEE!” Lian sang along as Roy and Y/n banged their heads to the music.

[echobx]

Twin Flame 3 - pervy!bsf!JJ Maybank × pervy!bsf!fem!reader

summary: y/n is hurt and JJ isn't planning on being the bigger person either

word count: 2.3k

warnings: talk about feelings, JJ and y/n lying to themselves and their friends, smut, oral (fem receiving), outdoor

author's note: while writing I thought this was the last part and then suddenly I was at 2k again and thought to myself, just cut here and write another one so that's what I'm doing. apparently writing without a plan works better than writing with a plan.

series masterlist ♡ part 1 ♡ part 2

   “Shit, you look horrible,” Kie said as you showed up for your shift at the Wreck. 

   “Didn't sleep,” you mumbled while wrapping the apron around your hips. After what JJ had done, you had first cried for about an hour, trying to reconcile with your conflicting feelings towards him. Then you had cleaned yourself up and driven to the one 24-hours store out of town that had a pharmacy, getting Plan B just in case, because you weren't a hundred percent sure that you had always taken the pill on time. A kid would ruin your future at this point. JJ’s kid, maybe even more so. He would resent you for it, probably, just as you would him. 

   “Think you can manage, or want me to cover for you?” Kie suggested, but you shook your head. You desperately needed the distraction the job provided. 

   So, that's what you did for the following week, picking up every shift the Carreras allowed you to, and afterward you went straight home. Not to the Chat. And especially not to JJ. 

   “Okay, seriously now, what the fuck is up with you?” Kie pulled you to the side one evening, and you shrugged. 

   “I don't know what you mean?” 

   “You're avoiding us, all of us. Why?” she stared at you. 

   “I have shit on my plate, work and-” you tried to find an excuse, but you couldn't tell her the truth. 

   “And?”

   “It doesn't matter. Why do you care?” 

   “Because I'm your friend, dummy,” Kiara tapped against your head repeatedly. 

   “Ouch. And maybe I just don't want to get shitfaced every other night,” you mumbled, wanting to walk off, but her hand was still firm around your biceps. 

   “Bullshit.” 

   “Fine. I don't wanna see JJ. Are you happy now?” you hissed, and she furrowed her brows. 

   “Why? That makes no sense. The two of you are like conjoined twins.” 

   “I don't want to talk about it. Just let it go, Kie.” You ripped your arm from her hold and continued working. 

   At the Château, JJ had to deal with similar inquiries. 

   “Kie just texted,” John B sighed, running his hand over his face exasperatedly. “Wanna explain to me why y/n says that you're at fault for her not coming by for over a week?” 

   “How would I know? Women are a mystery,” JJ rolled his eyes and continued smoking. 

   “For someone who's usually the best at lying, you're doing a fucking shit job right now,” John B scoffed. 

   “What? You want me to tell you my deepest, darkest secrets?” JJ leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees. “Want me to tell you that she begged me to fuck her, and now she's acting like a whiny bitch about it? Want that truth?” 

   “No, I want the real truth. We both know she'd never do that,” JB laughed, trying to lighten the mood, and JJ decided to play the innocent. 

   “Of course she wouldn't, little miss perfect.” 

   “What if you just went and apologized for whatever you did?” John B proposed and JJ leaned back again. “What if… what if… what if, I just sat here and forgot all about it? How about that?” 

   “That won't bring her back,” his best friend sighed. 

   “And what makes you think I'd want her back?” JJ was lying to himself. The lack of contact was gnawing at his heart strings. He knew he wouldn't hold out much longer without seeing you, but he also didn't want to be the one to cave. 

   “I don't know, maybe the fact that you love her? She's like a sister to the both of us.” 

   “A sister would never do the shit y/n did to me,” JJ thought to himself, but he kept quiet. 

   Two days later you decided to go visit your favorite place on the island, a small lagoon, a hidden gem that only the deep locals knew about. But only JJ knew how important the spot was to you, so it didn't entirely surprise you when you found him there, lying on the big rock in the sun like a gator waiting for its prey. 

   “And I had hoped you'd died,” you joked, and he turned his head to look at you. “You owe me fifty, asshole.” 

   “Since when?” JJ smirked, the tone of your voice was far from angry, and the spark in your eyes was neither mad nor anxious.

   “Since I had to buy Plan B because you don't know what a condom looks like,” you rolled your eyes and placed your towel on the sandy ground. 

   “Fine,” he exhaled and turned back to looking up at the sky. 

   “Everyone's annoying me about not being at the Chat every free minute of my shitty life,” you groaned, and JJ had to laugh. 

   “Everyone's annoying me because you aren't at the Chat every free minute of your shitty life.” 

   “Haha, funny,” you mocked. 

   “JB asked why you weren't coming by, I told him the truth, and he told me to stop lying, so there's that,” JJ sighed, and you looked at him in shock. 

   “Why would you tell him at all?” 

   “Chill, he didn't believe me. Why would anyone? Hell, I wouldn't even believe it myself.” 

   “Why?” 

   “He said you were like a sister to the both of us,” JJ huffed. “True brotherly love, then. Straight out of that medieval dragon show.” 

   “Game of Thrones?” you cocked your brow. 

   “Yeah, that shit.”

   “We aren't related, though, JJ. It's nothing like that, at all,” you remind him. 

   “Still fucked up. I mean, I watched you grow boobs, basically,” he muttered. 

   “Way to make it weird,” you rolled your eyes at him and finally took your seat on the towel. 

   “Was weird before it started, remember?” His eyes were fixed on you. 

   “Do you regret it?” you posed without thinking much about the question until it has slipped out. 

   “Should I? Do you?” His eyes traced your face, and you looked away, out onto the sound and trying to remember if it truly had been easier before, or if nostalgia was playing a trick on you. 

   “I'm not sure. I mean, I do like the way you kiss,” you smiled, more to yourself than to please him. 

   “Of course you do. You taught me. Remember?” JJ chuckled. “I still don't know where you knew that from. You hadn't even kissed anyone yet.”

   “There's a lot of things I know of, although I haven't gotten to try them yet,” you smirked and he sat up. 

   “Like what?” 

   “Love.” You didn't know why that nasty word had slipped out, but now it was hanging over you, and you hated it. 

   “Hmm, yeah, makes sense,” JJ nodded and jumped down from the stone, sitting down next to you, and you let your head fall to his shoulder. 

   “I’m sorry for how mean I was last week,” you whispered, and he held his hand out for you to take, intertwining your fingers as you did. 

   “I'm sorry for not having a condom, and for being an asshole who didn't let you come, although that technically was a punishment. And for running out like I did,” he apologized, and you felt like it was easier to breathe again. 

   “We're pretty fucked up, aren't we?” 

   “Seems like it. Yeah,” he said before exhaling a short laugh. 

   “What's so funny?” you asked, and he turned to face you, holding your face in his hands. 

   “You,” his eyes jumped between your own, trying to find a place to settle, but he couldn't seem to find it. “I mean, they expect me to be the weird creepy fucker, and they're not wrong. But who would've expected that you're worse than me.” 

   “Not worse. Equally, shit,” you reminded him quietly. “Made from the same bullshit material.” 

   “You got that high quality shit, though.”

   “Oh yeah?” 

   “Yeah. Parents, and that ass? Can't complain at all,” JJ smirked, and you swatted at his arm. “What? It's true.” 

   “My parents aren't even that good.” 

   “That’s what you're focusing on?” he huffed a laugh. 

   You leaned towards him and whispered, “I know that my ass is immaculate, Maybank.” 

   His lips were pressed to yours quicker than you could've said your own name, and you sighed into it. The feeling of his soft, warm lips against your own was one of your favorite feelings ever. Your whole body felt aflame under his touch, hands groping at your tits before he made you lie down underneath him, pressing himself between your thighs. 

   “J,” you moaned as his lips traveled down your neck. 

   “Gotta make it up to you, don’i?” he smirked and you nodded. It was a little messy when he helped you rid yourself of your clothes, leaving you completely naked and him still fully clothed. 

   “Fuck, you're gorgeous,” JJ groaned, his hands roaming over your body as if it was the holy grail. He squeezed your tits, and your back arched up in response, a gasp leaving you that was matched by his teasing chuckle. 

   “You know, princess, I'm just not that good with words ‘cause my tongue was made for other things,” he told you and a second later he was eating you out like his last meal. 

   JJ licked a long stripe up your wet cunt, humming at the taste. He wasn't thinking too much about what exactly he was doing, and just followed his instincts. Sucking on your clit until you screamed his name, digging his fingers into your thighs while his tongue thrusted into you. You were a mess because of him. You were his mess. 

   “Oh God,” you cried out, the knot in your stomach tightening. You didn't think of telling him that no one had ever done this to you, made you feel complete ecstasy with the simple use of their tongue. He wouldn't need to know, you knew it would just boost his already massive ego. 

   “Gonna be a good girl and come for me, baby?” JJ smiled up at you, and you nodded rapidly. 

   “Make me come, J,” you whined, and he dipped his head again. And JJ didn't think much about it when he pushed his fingers into your aching cunt, curling them up repeatedly while his lips were closed around your clit. He was drunk on you; your taste, your moans, the way your body reacted to every little touch of his. Feeling you clench around his fingers was probably one of the better things in his life. But tasting your release jumped straight to no.1, and if you’d let him, he'd do it every day and night. 

   He kept his fingers buried inside you until you had fully come down from your high. “You good?” he smirked and you nodded. 

   “Can I get up?” you whispered, and he pulled away, sitting up and watching you pull your shit back on as if you were embarrassed about it. 

   “Everything’s like normal again?” he asked after having licked his fingers clean. 

   “I don't know,” you shook your head. It wasn't like you didn't want to go back to before the tiny disagreement, but with everything the two of you did, you gained more clarity. 

   “So, you didn't want this to happen just now? ‘Cause this is all confusing, all right,” JJ sighed and shook his head. 

   “No, I did. It's just not the same anymore. What if you meet someone, and you fall in love, and then we have to go back to just being friends. Could you do that?” you posed, and he didn't know what to answer, so he hit you back with a question of his own. 

   “What if you fall in love?”

   “I don't even know what love is, JJ. How am I supposed to know what it feels like to fall in love,” you snorted at how funny his question was to you. 

   “I don't know,” he sighed, looking down at his hands. He had never been very touchy-feely, with no one, not even you. And yet you were always the only one allowed to do more to him than anyone else in his life. He let you cut his hair, let you tend to his injuries back when Luke had been around. He told you more than he did John B, but he knew he loved John B like a brother, just like he did Pope, like he loved Sarah and Kie and Cleo, and you. But not really. 

   “Is it, like, different from when you love your siblings? Like, do you think it feels different from the way I feel about JB and all of them?” JJ asked quietly, but you didn't know what to reply. 

   “Maybe we should ask him, he should know, right? About what it feels like, at least.” 

   “Yeah,” JJ turned to smile at you, fully dressed and looking as if he hadn't just deconstructed your whole being minutes earlier. 

   “What’ya think how long it'll take for that bush in front of your window to grow normal again? Like, there's prolly a big’ol JJ shaped hole in there,” he joked, and you had to laugh. 

  “Are you planning on not using it anymore?” 

  “Hell no. I can just come inside now, right?” he flashed his eyebrows at you and you groaned. 

   “You're not doing that again. I don't want to have to deal with three kids.” 

  “Three?” 

   “You count double,” you laughed, and he faked offense. 

   “Let's be honest, it would probably be easier to have kids with your best friends than to think love lasts. I mean, look at my parents,” JJ huffed after a moment of silence. 

   “Mine are fighting too much recently. I wish they would just say what they think and not talk so much bullshit all the time,” you sighed, and he pulled you closer, his arm over your shoulder. 

   “You know, you can always stay at my place if they get too much.”

   “I know,” you smiled up at him, and he kissed the top of your head.

taglist: @redhead1180 @spideysimpossiblegirl @drwstarkeyy @princessmaybank @ijustwantttoread @kys4-20 @immyowndefender @julczimozart @m2m2m2 @mochimms @dorkyfangirl24

read part 4 here

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

[astrophileous]

if reader is bug, their son is little bug and their daughter is little bug, what is derek's bug related nickname? or is he disappointed about not having one?

OKAY I personally think Derek's usually fine over not having a bug-related nickname (after all, he's the one who came up with them for his lil family 🥺) but I just imagined a scenario that wouldn't be ooc for him to feel jealous of not having a similar nickname and I hope this is to your liking <3

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

It was bound to happen.

With how often Derek dropped the sweet nickname for you every single day, you knew that it was only a matter of time before it was bound to happen.

But that didn't mean you weren't absolutely floored when it happened for the first time.

"Bah."

Derek's eyes caught yours from across the room. "Did she just--"

"Bah. Bah."

In front of you, your daughter stood on wobbly legs. Your face was the exact twin of Derek's stunned expression as you saw your daughter pointing her fingers towards you and said--for the nth time that afternoon--a word that made your brain reduce into a mush.

"Bah."

"Is she--" your voice caught around a disbelieving chuckle, "--is she saying Bug?"

As if confirming your suspicion, your daughter took hold of your hand before pressing it to her face. "Bah."

Derek was laughing as he crossed the room. He picked up his daughter and lifted her in the air, earning a series of delighted giggles from the 1-year-old.

"My smart baby. Who's a smart baby? Yes, you are!" Derek cooed.

"We're gonna have to explain to people why our daughter's first word is Bug." You laughed as you watched your husband smother your daughter in kisses.

"Well, we can just tell everyone that we have the smartest 1-year-old in the world. Isn't that right, Baby Bug?"

"Bah."

For the next few weeks, your daughter's adorable murmurs of bah became the new constant in your home. She started learning to use the word as a means to attract your attention. But it wasn't the only thing that your daughter had managed to learn.

"Lil bah."

"That's right, baby!" Your son clapped his hands ecstatically, his sister mirroring him with an exhilarated grin. "I'm Little Bug. Good job!"

You followed the interaction between the two from the couch, a permanent smile on your lips. Derek was lying with his head on your lap when you heard him sigh.

"You okay, Mister?"

"I'm the only one she's still refusing to call."

The pout Derek had on his face nearly made you chuckle, and you probably would have done it if you didn't know just how devastating the whole thing was for him.

"You should take it as a compliment," you said instead, trying to put a balm on his wounded heart. "She only said Bug as her first word because she listens to you so much. She just wants to mirror everything you do, hun."

Derek exhaled another long breath. "Should I find myself a bug-related nickname just so she would call me?"

You snorted. "Like what? Mr. Bugkeeper?"

Derek pinched your thigh. "Very funny. I'm hurt and all you do is make fun."

That last statement of his actually made you laugh. Derek proceeded to grumble something under his breath, but you were too busy trying to keep your bellowing laughter under control to pay attention to it.

From across the room, your daughter suddenly stood on her chubby little feet before staggering over to where you and Derek were lounging on the couch while your son continued to play with his toys.

"Bah," your daughter said once she had reached you.

"Hi, baby."

"Bah." She proceeded to turn towards Derek after that, tracing the features on her father's face with exploratory fingers and a cute curiosity in her eyes. "Bah?"

"That's not Bug, baby," you told her. "That's Dada. Can you say Dada?"

She stared blankly at your face in response.

"Say Dada," Derek encouraged. "Come on, Baby Bug. Say I love you, Dada!"

Your daughter blinked and tilted her head to the side.

Derek sighed in disappointment. "This is hopeless. She's never gonna--"

"Da."

You and Derek both froze in shock.

"Da." Your daughter grabbed a hold of Derek's cheeks. "Da. Wuv yu."

You didn't think you ever saw Derek sit up so fast in his life.

"Baby Bug." Your husband's voice was laden with bewilderment. "Can you say that again, sweetheart? Say that again for Dada?"

"Da. Wuv yu."

The laughter that rumbled from Derek's chest spoke of the greatest joy you had ever seen radiating from a person. He picked your daughter up in his embrace, spinning her around until the baby shrieked in glee.

"I told you it would happen, Mr. Bugkeeper," you said around your own jubilant laughter.

If it were any other day, Derek would have given you a side eye over the ludicrous nickname. But at that moment, Derek couldn't find it in his bones to care.

After all, his daughter had just told him that she loved him for the first time.

[dragonsbluee]

I'm trying to count how many times Hiccup is captured/kidnapped throughout both series, the movies and the short films, so here's my criteria:

Any time he is unwillingly moved from one location to another by a dragon, viking or other character.

This includes any dragons picking him up and flying off somewhere, even if he is okay with it later.

This does not include when Toothless/his friends drag him off to show him something.

Any situation that prompted the dragon riders to rescue him.

Any plans that involved him giving himself up or joining up with a villain/antagonist.

This does not include the time he and Dagur were trapped on that island together.

Any time he is tied up and led somewhere or locked up/held in place with a guard.

Here is the list of situations I have compiled in (hopefully) chronological order:

HTTYD

Congratulations, no captures or kidnappings.

GIFT OF THE NIGHT FURY

When Meatlug (accidentally) brings Hiccup along to the Rookery.

RIDERS OF BERK

S1E6 - Hiccup gets taken to Dragon Island.

S1E16 - Hiccup is captured by the Outcasts on their island.

S1E19 - Alvin Captures Hiccup and Toothless at the "Isle of Night".

DEFENDERS OF BERK

S1E20 - Hiccup gives himself up to Dagur as part of his plan with Alvin.

RACE TO THE EDGE

S1E1 - the Dragon Riders get captured by Daugr on a hunter ship.

S1E7 -The twins put him in prison (this one's just here because I think it's funny).

S2E6 - The Dragon Hunters capture him.

S2E11 - The Dragon Riders get captured trying to save the Skrill.

S3E1 - Hiccup is captured by Dragon Hunters while trapped on an island with Dagur.

S3E8 - Hiccup and Toothless get caught in a Dragon Hunter Trap and are kidnapped and forced to participate in dragon fights.

S3E12 - Viggo captures all the Dragon Riders at the auction.

S3E13 - The Defenders of the Wing capture the Dragon Riders.

S4E3 - First Hiccup is caught by Amos and Berthel.

S4E3 - Then he's caught by Savage.

S4E3 - Then Krogan gets him after Throk saves him.

S4E3 - Ryker captures him for the tiniest bit right before the riders arrive.

S4E10 - Hiccup is caught with Ruffnut when he tries to rescue her from Viggo's trap. Unlike the other traps, he needs the other dragon riders to rescue them.

S5E2 - The Sandbuster captures Hiccup and Snotlout.

S6E8 - Viggo hands Hiccup over to Krogan as part of their plan.

HTTYD 2

Valka kidnaps Hiccup and Toothless.

HTTYD 3

Grimmel captures the dragon riders.

HOMECOMING

Once again, no captures of kidnappings

Up For Debate:

There are a few situations which technically fit the criteria, but I'm not sure if they fit considering the context of the show:

S5E5 - the riders are stuck on Vanaheim, guarded by the Sentinels. (Rtte)

S1E3 - This is a technicality, but when Hiccup joins up with Dagur to keep him away from the other dragons. (Dob)

EDIT: I forgot that even though my criteria says that the time Dagur and Hiccup are trapped on that island together (S3E1 of RTTE) doesn't count, because he is joining up with an (at the time) antagonist, there is a moment when Hiccup is captured by Dragon Hunters near the end of the episode.

After careful discussion (aka me ranting at my roommate) S4E10 of RTTE is also moving from "up for debate" to the official list. These changes are reflected above.

This brings our official count to 22 captures/kidnappings!

Honestly, the hardest part about this was finding the distinction between being captured or being trapped and what I wanted to count. When Hiccup isn't captured, he spends a lot of time in traps.

[thetriumphantpanda]

Come Away With Me | Joel & Tommy Miller (The Epilogue)

Summary | A final visit to our favourite family.

Word Count | 1.6K

Chapter Warnings | Consumption of food, allusions to smut, brief talk of difficult pregnancy, family dynamics, lots of fluff & a little surprise for you in this.

Authors Note | Well, I can't believe I'm about to say this, but we made it! Trial & Error Season 2 is complete, which marks the end of the line for my favourite threesome and their family. I firstly wanted to say thank you to each & every one of you for continuing to support this story and me. I never dreamt that you would love these three as much as I love them, and I will always be eternally grateful to this story for helping me through some tough times this year. I hope you love this ending as much as I do, and if you, I'd love to hear from you. Please always feel like you can scream at me in my inbox, and reblogs & comments also really help. This isn't it from our fabulous threesome, I have one-shots and ideas to bring to life in the future, but for now, it's adios to Joel, Pretty Girl & Tommy. And, as always, If you want to support me, you can donate to my Ko-Fi.

A reminder that I no longer use taglists - to keep up with my writing, please follow@thetriumphantpandanotifs and turn on notifications to keep up to date.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

The sun is warm but there is a slight breeze that crosses your skin, moves the long grass on the ground and rustles the trees. The summer has been hot, but it’s moving into time of year where it cools a little, isn’t so stifling that it makes you want to tear your skin off or spend all your time in an ice bath. 

You smile, watching not one, but two young children, just after their second birthday’s, sit in the grass and play together. Twins. Two baby girls. Your heart is full. Your soul is full. Your family is complete in a way you never thought it would be. Sitting on the porch, mug of coffee in hand, you can see the broad expanse of a man walking towards you. The sun is blocking his features from view, framing him perfectly in light. You’d know that outline anywhere. Joel. 

“How are my girls?” He smiles, bending down and placing one of his palms on the back of Ava’s head, the other hand holding one of the toys up for Addie to take hold of in her little hand. 

He stands again, walking up onto the porch to where you’re sat. He dips to kiss your forehead, then, when you tilt your head to him, he presses a kiss to your lips too, “And how is my pretty girl?” 

“I’m good,” You smile, snaking your hand around the back of his neck to pull him into another kiss, “Worked hard?” You ask once you’ve pulled away, letting him sit next to you on the porch bench. 

“Can you not tell?” He chuckles, pulling the rag from his pocket to wipe his brow of sweat. 

You put a palm on his thigh, looking back out onto the land you now call home. It’s vast, fields upon fields of open land. You can see the other house in the distance, the one Tommy and Joshua call home, the one that you spend half of your time in. It’s a pleasant walk between them, one you’ll take tomorrow morning, twins in arm. A ranch. Land bought when you’d found out you were pregnant again, this time with two babies, not one. It's further outside of the city, which you love. Peace and quiet and a wonderful place to raise your children. Joel and Tommy had worked hard throughout the nine months you’d carried Ava and Addie, taking contracting jobs wherever they could find them, squirrelling away enough money to build the life you have now. You’d offered the inheritance money from your parents who had passed away just before you’d met Tommy, which had built the two houses you all called home. Joel has insisted on sheep for the ranch, whilst Tommy had wanted cattle, so they’d compromised and gone with both. 

You hadn’t thought that being the wife of two ranchers would have been something you’d enjoy, but you’d proved yourself wrong. You could take Joshua to school each morning and pick him up each afternoon, you could spend as much time as you wanted with your baby girls, you’d learnt to bake properly, and cook meals for everyone each evening. You would all sit together, eating and drinking into the evening, until you fell into one bed or the other, curled up next to Tommy or Joel, and sometimes even both of them, until you fell asleep and started all over again the next morning. It was the life you loved, and you wouldn’t change it for the world. 

You can see Tommy walking from the other house, Joshua’s hand clutched in his own. He’d taken him out today, let him ride with him on his horse, mostly in an effort to tire him out because at six years old, he was starting to run rings around everyone with his energy. 

You watch as they come into view, Joshua dropping Tommy’s hand when he recognises his baby sisters. He’s always been so gentle with them. He kneels down on the blanket with them, picking up some of the toys in his hands to start playing with them. He hands Ava a small wooden car, and Addie gets one that is slightly bigger that she can’t quite hold properly. He tries to get them to engage in a race but it’s relatively futile, they just giggle at him and wave their arms around. 

You chuckle to yourself as Tommy heads up onto the porch too, he bends to give you a kiss similar to the way Joel had, but leans against the post that connects the porch to the roof that covers it, taking out his own rag to wipe his hands with. You’re about to open your mouth to ask if anyone is hungry, when the front door is ripped open and the newest addition to your family comes bounding out. 

“Didn’t keel over and die today then, old man.” 

You bite back a chuckle, as does Tommy, but Joel doesn’t seem to find it so funny. 

“What have I told you about bein’ rude, Ellie?” 

“I wasn’t being rude,” She shrugs, “I was just being observant.” 

You think you hear him mutter something about her being a little shit under his breath, which of course is no better than her previous comment, but you let it lie, “Anyone hungry?” You ask. 

Everyone agrees, so you push yourself up and head down the steps to pick up Addie. Joel follows behind, taking Ava in his arms, whilst holding his hand out for Joshua to take, walking everyone into Joel’s home, where the pot roast has been cooking for most of the day. 

Ellie hadn’t really been planned. Once the twins had been born, you’d thought that was it. It had been a hard pregnancy, you’d struggled with sickness at first, and then at the sheer amount of extra weight you’d been carrying around. You’d swollen in places you didn’t even know you had, and spent that last month being as still as possible. With the way your relationship had changed, you’d agreed early on that the twins would be as much Joel’s children as they were Tommy’s, but whenever Joel watched you walk away to spend time with his brother, which he didn’t resent in any way, and you took the twins with you, that big ranch house felt awful lonely to him, with Sarah still being away at college. 

He’d shocked you and Tommy when he’d sat you both down and mentioned adoption. Giving a home to someone who needed it. It had more rooms than he knew what to do with, space enough for another child. You don’t think you could have picked someone more perfect for him than Ellie. In some ways, she was the complete opposite of Sarah, but in others, they were very similar. She wasn’t ever going to be a replacement, Sarah still visited often, was still a huge part of everyone’s lives, but she kept him company in those lonely nights, made him laugh, kept him on his toes, and you loved her just as much as if she were your own. She was a love all of Joel's own.

Everyone takes their seat at the table, helps themselves to as much food as they want. Between mouthfuls of your own food, you help Addie eat, with Joel doing the same with Ava. Tommy is helping Joshua, who still doesn’t quite have the hang of how to properly cut things with his knife and fork, and Ellie is talking, mainly at Joel, about what she’d been doing that day. Its domesticity at its best. You and the two men you love with every fibre of your being, your children who you would lay down your life for, including Ellie. Everything you always wanted, all at the same time, no compromises. 

You sit around the table for most of the evening. Ellie helps you put the twins to sleep upstairs when they start dropping off. She knows the dynamic of the family, you’d sat her down one day when Joel and Tommy were out working, fumbling over the words of how to explain exactly how things worked. 

“So, they both love you, and you both love them?” She’d asked, mixing the batter for the cake you were making together, “Sounds cool,” She’s shrugged, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, “Just so long as I don’t ever have to hear what you and my old man get up to.” 

You’d smiled, given her a hug, and promised to keep it down with Joel whenever you were there. It proved to be difficult, that man knowing how to make you cry out and scream whenever he got his hands on you. 

Once Joshua has settled himself on the couch, resting quietly with the TV on in the background, and Ellie has gone to her room to read or whatever else it is she does up there, you reach next to you and take hold of Tommy’s hand. He clutches it right back, with Joel’s arm resting across your shoulders. You look up at Joel, who is smiling softly, with that glint in his eyes that tells you he’s dying to take you upstairs. 

You look Tommy directly in the eye, “Together?” You ask, squeezing his hand. 

“Together.”

And that’s how it is. That’s how it will always be. Some nights spent alone with your men, others spent sandwiched right between them as they take turns making you feel good, coaxing orgasm after orgasm from you until you don’t know who you are or what day of the week it is. And then being able to snuggle into one of them, tonight you know it will be Joel, who will drape his arm over your waist and press his front as close to your back as is humanely possible, with Tommy clutching your hands from the front. Your two men, their girl, and the life you’d risked almost everything to have. 

THE END. 

[very-straight-blog]

Making Aegon a r*pist was lazy writing, and it only further demonstrate how the screenwriters aren't able to understand the concept of "grey character".

Do I think it should be completely overlooked? No. Because even if he didn't hurt Helaena he did r*pe Dyana (it was completely useless to his character and it only served the purpose of making him appear more irredeemable, but that's beside the point), and he should be held accountable for it by the viewers at the very least.

Do I also think Aegon's sexual trauma — that would be having to sire children at FUCKING FOURTEEN — was grossly overlooked and glazed over not only by the viewers but also by the screenwriters, and that it could have been represented in a vast variety of more poignant ways (for example, instead of making Aemond an SA victim because yes, they could have given Aegon that kind of relationship with the madame and dive deeper on how he seeks the love he doesn't receive from his family elsewhere)? Do I also think the screenwriters treated Aegon unjustly just because they are not capable of handling a male character with such deep, complex scars that cannot be fully explained in an eight-episodes-long series, and have therefore decided to butcher him because they prioritized hype instead of delivering an actual good product to the public?

Yes. Yes to all of that. As a mainly TB fan I felt myself being forced into my faction, because "who would support a r*pist?", and I came to find unjust how unreasonable this argument is: Daemon and Viserys are r*pists too, with the former literally asking young virgins be set aside for him in brothels and the latter being seen forcing himself on Alicent. Neither of them is held nearly as accountable for their misdeeds as Aegon, and to this day I don't understand why.

I agree with everything here in general and will talk a bit about this topic (I like to talk about Aegon, in case someone suddenly didn't notice).

Yes, the show certainly manipulates facts to endear viewers to one character and make them hate another. Almost everyone in this story has done terrible things, but a lot of fans behave as if the incident with Dyana was the worst of them. Well, I don't know, what about those women Daemon slept with in the brothels? Who often didn't want to be there, who were very young, because he preferred virgins. What about that servant who was killed to hide Laenor's escape? What about Rhea, whom Daemon killed in cold blood to marry Rhaenyra? And so on and so forth. And believe me, such planned crimes shock me much more than what the drunken idiot Aegon did without even remembering it later. Once again, did he do a bad thing? Yes. Is he a good person (character)? No. But at least I'm not trying to make him into someone he's not. And yes - Aegon is still an interesting and complex character that I adore. Not a villain and not just a "drunk and r*pist."

The problem is how his actions are presented to the viewer. Our acquaintance with adult Aegon literally begins with this rape scene, this is our first impression of the character. Aegon has eight minutes of screen time in the first season, and three of them are devoted to the discussion of this incident. Plus, they don't give him anything that could justify it. Did Daemon kill his wife? Well, he did it for love. And this is deeply explored, we're forced to sympathize with the character and then we easily forgive him for such an act. Aegon is shown simply as an asshole without any redeeming traits.

Time skips cleverly mask the fact that Aegon and Helaena were teenagers at best when the twins were born. Helaena gave birth to TWO children at such an early age, they became parents against their own will, not being ready for it. It's interesting, it adds depth to the characters, it might explain why Aegon drinks so much - but of course the screenwriters won't show us that.

Again, Aegon's hypersexuality isn't something funny, it's not what makes him an asshole, it's a sign of trauma. He uses it to numb his loneliness. I believe that Aegon literally didn't have the opportunity to feel what love is in any form. His father disliked him and showed it openly. His mother loved him, but she never knew how to express it the way he needed to. He was married to his sister (the tragedy for both of them) and it was a matter of duty, not feelings. At the time of the first season, Aegon is deeply unhappy and this is obvious. I have every reason to believe that his need for physical intimacy is based on the fact that this is the only form of love he can receive. Considering that Aegon is quite smart, I even think that he himself understands how ugly this form is, but there's nothing he can do. During the act, I guess in some unhealthy way it really saves him from loneliness, longing and the need to be loved, but in the end it makes him even more unhappy.

My thought turned out to be a bit messy and it's time for me to shut up, otherwise I'll never finish, but the point is that the show manipulates the audience to create "the right" point of view for them and it's very annoying. And they also don't know how to create deep, controversial characters at all.

[vagabond-umlaut]

two shots of ristretto, please!

One must have heard of espresso, but ristretto? No?

Well, translated to 'restricted' in Italian, ristretto is another version of espresso, but of a sweeter and more intense quality than the latter— though, you reckon, there's no entity in this world, sweeter and more intense than that white-haired, blue-eyed enigma-turned-menace of yours.

▸ yakuza heir! gojo satoru x uni classmate! fem! reader; TIMESKIP; dad! gojo satoru x mom! reader; FLUFF AND HUMOR GALORE; popularising the headcanon that gojo is so terrifyingly gojo for everyone, except his crush; the said crush's smart & not dense, for the first time in my stories; there is yakuza so there's a gun and there's a tiny bit of violence; brief appearance of utahime, shoko, suguru & nanami; POST-TIMESKIP: the most adorable twins ever, sachiko and sachiro, are back, with tons and tons of fluff!!!!!

▸ belongs to the series 'tang!' — same universe as the work 'every rose and its 'twin prickles'' — but you can treat this as a stand-alone fic if you wanna!

▸ i know i described the reader to be smart and stuff, but the thing is: she is smart, of sorts, that is. and the post-timeskip portion is tooth-rottingly fluffy but not for satoru; sachiko & sachiro will never let their papa get some loving from their dearest mama... AND this is 4.4k wc long— idk how i wrote so freaking much! anyways, whatever it is–

▸ i don't own the characters, the image or the divider used. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

Gojo Satoru was born with three things.  

His name. 

His looks.  

And, of course– the baggage certain to tag along with the above two. 

Cup of coffee languishing in the frost of your ignorance, you lock gaze, the first time, with the famous infamous scion of the Gojo’s, an awfully stormy morning at the café your friend works at.  

Said friend looks halfway on the path to sweet, sweet dreams, resting her head on folded arms on your table — smiling, you tuck a wayward strand of hair behind the shell of her ear, and return to your sly spying on the group seated couple of feet away. You think you see Gojo look at you yet another time — it must be an error of your eye, you reckon, given how he's giving a sharp grin to the man across from him, in the very next instant.  

Yeah, that's what it is. No one can possibly switch from shooting that level of thoughtful gaze to that level of feral grin in that short span of time. Yeah, it must have been a mistake of your silly eye.  

Anyways, whatever it is, to say you hate drawing attention to yourself will be the greatest understatement of the century— so you decide to look away for a beat, to avoid even the faintest hint of suspicion, eyes going back to the chemical reactions strewn across the mess you call notes— only to snap back to the white-haired boy, widening in horror from the click! then the scene crashing onto your brain.  

Gojo chuckles, eyes flitting from the gun aimed at the space between his eyebrows to the man holding it. "Aww," you register him croon, that self-sabotaging dumbass, "resorting to such cheap violence so quickly, Zenin-san? Grew tired of a civil conversation already? Tsk. What a pity." 

Another time and you think you'll consider this precise moment to be when you wake your friend up and slowly sneak away into the kitchen then out, via the back door. Another day and you know you'll consider this very second to be when you return your focus to your assignment on carbohydrates, all the while hoping you or your friend won't be cast into a brawl none of you are a part of— 

Too bad it isn't another time or another day, though.  

Biting back a grimace, you shut your laptop and rise from your chair with a loud clatter. 

"Forcing someone isn't really a nice way to make a deal, y'know," you hum, walking over to their table and plopping down onto the free seat next to Gojo, "what is better is to explain the pros and cons to the one opposite to you and try to convince them. Gently. And if that doesn't work, manipulate the hell out of them. But this?" you shoot the metal gun a disappointed glance, shaking your head, "this is a method even I know I shouldn't use to get my rival to agree to something, though I'm not from a criminal background." 

The man– Zenin, you correct yourself; the second largest yakuza clan right after Gojo's family, your memory supplies after a beat – gives a slow look from the weapon to you, a scowl appearing on his features. And barks – voice, a disgusting grating noise to your sleep-deprived self.  

"Who the fuck are you, girl? And why the fuck are you interfering in this?"  

You pause. Okay, this wasn't what you were expecting when you first strolled out here. You were expecting a yell, a scuffle; worst case, the gun aimed at your precious brain. But this? One question about your identity, and the other about your reason for approaching them? You haven't prepared yourself for this! 

Frowning, you cast a glance to your left, only to find the white-haired boy stare at you, staggered, with wide eyes and flushed cheeks; then at your friend who's snoring away like she doesn't give a damn about napping at work; then at the man glowering at you.  

You sigh, rubbing your temples. 

"Who the fuck I am... that's for me to know and for you to find out,” you answer, smirking, before growing serious again as you rush to explain, upon catching a murderous glint in the man’s eyes, “I mean, c'mon, y'all are the yakuza. This should be a piece of cake for you, shouldn’t it?"  

The man's glare only worsens in result; stamping down the apprehension in your mind, you continue, "And as for why the fuck I'm interfering in this—"  

You abruptly fall silent.  

Offering the boy beside you a panicky glance.  

Wondering what the hell you can say in reply. 

Should you say, "I've been listening to you threaten the poor boy for a good thirty minutes now, saying he's gonna face dire consequences, or some shit like that, if he doesn't share the area in the east with the Zenin's or refuses to marry their third daughter— who I'm pretty sure, y'all have made into nothing but a maid, a cook and a broodmare. Poor girl, being spoken of by her own family member to a stranger boy, as if she isn't a human being but something with no life or ambition. But, hey, how you raise your kids is honestly your own problem and I’m not here to drill some lesson into your head– though I guess, folks like you could really use some. Anyways, whatever the fuck it is, I'm here because I JUST CAN'T SEE ANOTHER BEING FORCED TO DO SOMETHING AGAINST THEIR WILL. AND I’M GONNA PROTEST AGAINST IT AS LONG AS I’VE A BREATH LEFT IN MY LUNGS." 

The inner-you tsks at the outer-you.  

You groan inwardly, shifting to the next plan already.  

So, must you say, "Gojo's my classmate, who has been sitting behind me since the first class of the year, and very weird to say, but I have also been finding him here at this coffee shop, every day I visit since that day, sitting at this specific table and scribbling in a notebook for hours at end— and, yeah, way weirder to admit out loud, but I guess I have also formed some kind of attachment to him? 'Cause of which, I feel, I get worried when I see him being actively threatened? And, yes, of course– all the while I totally ignore that he's next in line to a notorious criminal family or the fact that he's never even noticed me once before today." 

Another click! bounces off the walls into your ears, making you draw away from your mind back to the situation at hand. You settle for offering a shrug.  

"Why I'm here is because Gojo is one of my acquaintances and I just can't seem to stand someone being forced to do something against their will." 

Your statement earns a mocking laugh from the man, but before you rush to defend yourself and the fact you spoke the truth, a calloused palm rests on your forearm. Gojo's gaze flits from you to the gun still pointed at him then back to you. You feel a mild tremor in his fingers when they meet your skin. Good heavens, Gojo must be really scared, huh? 

His careful voice reaches you, a far cry from the haughty tone he was employing with the Zenin fellow earlier, "It's best if you leave now. Go take your friend and go away. And don't come back here. At least not until sometime later, yeah? Things are gonna get a hell lot messy and I don't want you to see that." 

For the first time in many days, the buzz of caffeine in your veins weakens, giving way to the thrum of worry you feel at Gojo’s words. Has this bastard already accepted his fate!? Hell no! Not if you can help it!!  

You give his arm a light pat. 

"While I leave you here, all alone, huh?" Shaking your head, you click your tongue. "Nope! Not gonna happen, mister. My parents raised me way better than that. Besides, you might not be knowing me but I've been knowing you for a while now, and despite what everyone says of you being the crown prince, or whatever, in the underworld — I ain't leaving you here, with your life at the mercy of a person who doesn't even have a shred of respect for others' freedom of choice and stuff." 

A noisy yawn sounds in the background, soon followed by a noisier series of snores. Gojo's mouth opens and closes a few times, like a funny fish, before he inquires, voice brimming with disbelief, "You... have noticed me? Since when?" 

You blink, then chuckle. "Of course, I have. Since the first day, if I'm being honest here," you reply, then add as a hasty after-thought, so that he doesn't see you as a weirdo, "I mean, it's tough not to notice you, y'know? Not when you're—" 

A deafening crash interrupts you in the middle of your sentence. You look away from the boy to find the man standing now, face contorted in a mix of fury and desperation while he shifts the gun's muzzle from Gojo to you, then back to Gojo, words leaving him in a harsh yell. 

"THE GIRL NOTICED YOU 'CAUSE YOU'RE THE GOJO SATORU AND YOU'RE HANDSOME AS FUCK. NOW, CAN YOU PLEASE SHUT THE FUCK UP, BITCH? AND YOU — YOU SICK, SPOILT GOJO BRAT– YOU SAID YOU DON'T HAVE A MINUTE TO SPARE? BUT HERE YOU ARE, CHATTING YOUR LIFE AWAY WITH THAT GIRL—" 

A second deafening crash reverberates through the small shop– and you think you see your life flash before your eyes– but not before the man drops to the ground, most probably unconscious and hopefully not too damaged to lead a functional life, and very earnestly not dead. The gun clatters to the ground beside him. You turn to your classmate, eyes wide. Gojo returns your gaze, unblinking and slack jawed. 

Heart thundering in your ears, you hurry to explain yourself, "I–" 

"You smashed that plate on that guy's head." 

Gojo’s blunt words bring you to a still, making your eyes drift to the fragments of the unlucky glass plate, to the unluckier but-totally-deserved-it Zenin, then back to your classmate. A little more awe on the boy’s face and you think his jaw might hit the floor.  

You nod slowly. 

"Yeah, but as self-defence. I mean, you saw how eccentric that man was acting, right? I had to do something to protect both of us," you explain, looking away from the pair of blue eyes watching you closely, to your friend who still seems to be lost in the land of sleep (how much exactly did she drink last night, huh?) to your grey sneakers, voice growing mumbled with every other syllable you utter.  

"But that doesn't mean you've to feel some sort of debt towards me or anything. I too was kind of at mistake then, I guess... what with me rambling so fucking much when there was a literal gun at your head. I should have acted with more tact then – if I had done so, then maybe this mess could've been avoided. I mean, I've never seen these things before in my life, y'know? Except in TV shows, that is. Yet, this foolish me here thought she could just swoop in and save you like some sort of a hero..." 

Sullen, you trail off, face growing warm from embarrassment whilst your mind devises a plan on how to clear up the mess you created, many thanks to your foolhardy nature, when a muffled laugh reaches you. Gojo's eyes twinkle in enjoyment at the bewildered huff you give him.  

"You did save me like a real hero back then, y'know," he says, grinning a wide grin – before it disappears, making way for a much reserved, much shyer(??) version. A giggly voice within you whispers he looks just as sweet as he did with his cute dimples. The boy continues, carding a hand through his mess of white hair, with a casual glance at the man, "And, as for the mess you keep mentioning, don't you worry. Gun shots create more mess than a plate smashed on the head. And if I can clear that within a minute– this won't even take me a full second, Miss Hero. Don't you worry for this at all. But, yeah, thank you." 

Now, you don't really know if it was the sincerity in his voice as Gojo thanked you, or the fact that he has to clean up the mess you made in the first place, or the stunned feeling so clearly visible in the blue colour of his irises when you admitted to noticing him— whatever it is, you find yourself not wanting to leave anything unsaid between you both.  

Moreover, the realization that lives are considered extremely low-on-value in the world of crime, so much that guns are whipped out at the tiny disagreements or boasts are made on how quick a gunshot mess can be cleared by them — this realization doesn't make things any easier for you. 

Giving the injured man and your napping friend a momentary glance, you return your focus to Gojo, whose eyes are now narrowed at his mobile, and speak those words weighing heavy on your mind right now.  

"I really noticed you since the first day, Gojo," you say. The boy pauses his typing, confused gaze darting to you. "But not just 'cause you're the Gojo Satoru, or 'cause you're really pretty — which you totally are, by the way— but mainly because you had ambled into our first class, on the first day, a magnificent hour late, with your two friends— and my first thought seeing you was, what sort of a fucking entitled brat is this guy, sauntering in as if he owns the entire place." 

A beat passes before the boy erupts into chuckles, though the tense quality of them doesn't escape your notice. Pocketing his mobile, he shoots you a small smile. "And what about noticing me after that? It was just my name and looks which kept your attention hooked onto me, wasn't it?" 

The question– the mumbled way it was asked, more so– sends you into a brief bout of musing silence. Gojo's eyes remain trained on you the entire while — quite contrary to the innumerable adjectives you've heard to describe them: oceanic blue, sparkling blue, mesmerising blue, kind-of-startling blue– you think they're just... blue. So blue, you wonder if there's anything as blue as that gaze peering down at you.  

Perhaps not. 

Lips curving into a smile, you hum, "Yes and no. Yes, 'cause that was the main reason why my eyes kept trailing you whenever we were in the same place. No, 'cause they were the reasons only until I realised what kind of person you are, and how very different you're from what I first thought of you. I got new reasons after those." 

"Mind telling me those new reasons?" 

Gojo's nervous question widens the smile on your face. Casting your friend a glance — goodness, how many drinks did she really have at the party she went to last night — you reply, making your voice light and friendly, "Your personality made me curious. You are old money, with good looks to boot— you're literally the heartthrob of every girl on campus! Still, I've never seen you with anyone from them— never with anyone outside your group of three friends — though, I got to admit, the blond boy looks nothing less than constipated for a week, when he talks to you." 

That last comment draws a chuckle from the white-haired boy. The tightness in his shoulders seems to relax a bit, you note with relief. Face still carrying the same smile as before, you continue speaking.  

"And the second point which made me curious was how different you behave in different places. Your voice rings across the cafeteria every day during lunch yet you stay so quiet here for hours at end. You once said you've never been much of a book person, yet I always see you in this shop, immersed in your notebooks. And– what has struck me the most of all is the way you tend to go out of you way to annoy others – I've been sitting in front of you in class for a good three months now, yet you've never ever irritated me in the slightest. Kind of strange, ain’t it?" 

Stunned silence comes as the answer to your question, what with the addressed classmate of yours, rooted to his spot on the ground, blue eyes as round as the plate you had smashed on the man's head some time ago and the expression on Gojo's face, almost as if you've grown a couple of heads in the while you have been chatting with him.  

Or more like monologuing, now that you think about it.  

This guy is always so chatty with others: he was even then with that gun cocked to take his life — then why the fuck is he so unspeaking right now, eh? 

"Oh God, Satoru, I can't believe your plan of lurking in the places she goes to, to catch her eye, worked out!!" "Are you asking her out right now, bro?" "Can you all please move? It's raining like hell outside and I'm not really keen to get my leather jacket wet, thank you." 

The noisy rumbles of rain and thunder stream in through the opened door, before the latter is closed again, snapping you out of your internal monologue, a bit too sudden and harsh for your liking. Three pairs of eyes regard you with an utmost curiosity — you return them a blink before dragging your eyes away and looking at the boy a good foot away, only to find him resolutely staring at the overhead lights. Two pretty long (and pretty weird) seconds pass before you finally decide to tear your gaze away from him to the rain-soaked glass window of the eatery.  

A face with creased brows and warmed cheeks greets you from your reflection.  

Screwing your eyes tight shut in an attempt to ward off an annoying headache you can feel build up, slowly yet steadily, you let out a sigh.  

Friendship with the Gojo Satoru seems good enough but romance with the Gojo Satoru... that doesn’t seem half-as-good, right? 

Right? 

"Wrong." 

Your son's insistent voice, coupled by the tiny fist he slams down on the table, breaks you out of your reverie and you turn to find Sachiro wearing a frown, tears brimming in his eyes– eyes which move away from his father and sister to you, pinning your drowsy form beneath the weight of their moisture.  

Stifling a weary sigh, you place the menu card back on the table and coo, "Aw, Sachiro! What's wrong, baby? Are Papa and Sachiko saying mean things to you again? Are they still teasing you regarding today's incident?" 

Although, you suppose to yourself, catastrophe might suit what happened today, way more than the word 'incident'— what with the shrieks, cries and yells resounding through your flat in the short time you took to get ready for your Sunday lunch at a restaurant. Rubbing his eyes a little, the little boy scoots closer to you and nods weakly, wrapping his tiny arms round you. Pressing a kiss to the top of his head, you direct a stern look at the two sitting across from you.  

Sipping on the welcome drink, Sachiko just shrugs back at you.  

"I'm not the wrong person here, Mom. He is," your daughter explains, pointing a finger at her brother, then retracting it at your frown. Your husband snickers from beside her. “Yeah, sweetness, it’s Sachiro who’s wrong. Getting confused on when’s your birthday is no small mistake. Besides, our darling little munchkins taunt me the entire time if I ever make a mistake, no? Can’t see why they can’t stand a taste of their own medicine, then.” 

The sobs muffled into the cotton of your dress grow in intensity and misery. Sending her father a vicious stink eye, your daughter moves to observe you and her brother, a cute little frown on her face.  

"Okay, fine," she relents after a short beat, returning the lemonade to the table, "Guess I was a little wrong. Maybe I shouldn't have teased him so much, along with Papa, for messing up the date of your birthday. I also should not have said, he doesn't love you, some time back."  

A very weighted moment passes. The little girl jumps off her seat and reaches your side of the table, tiny arms reaching out to wrap around her brother. It takes a minute, and a small nudge from your side but soon enough, your two kids are hugging each other; Sachiro, a wailing mess, whilst Sachiko, being the older of the twins that she is, keeps saying 'sorry's' and patting his head, the exact same way their father does to them in times of their grave distress — when they throw a tantrum and get a nice long lecture from you, that is.  

Fond smile creeping onto your lips, you tear your gaze away from the two adorable angels of your life to your husband.  

Relieved to find him sans any teasing smile, you receive a gentle look from him, his hand reaching out to interweave his fingers through yours. You let him with a content hum, basking in the simple domestic joy seeping in through the sweetly scented air of the restaurant. A pair of plush lips press to your palm; biting back a giddy giggle, you throw the owner of said luscious lips a meaningful wink.  

Though... you doubt how much of your meaning could be conveyed to him... given how the two of you jerk back from each other a mere instant later, at the loud clearing of a throat from Sachiko and an angry 'Papa! Go away!' from Sachiro.  

Stomping back to her chair and settling into it with some effort and a huff, you watch an extremely pissed shadow form over the little girl's face, worsening as she twists and cranes her neck up to face her father. You really, really think your husband must not chuckle in this way in the face of such a thunderstorm— not when your daughter is shooting daggers with her gaze; and certainly not when your son is shooting that gloating smirk at him.  

Another time and you think you’ll look at that glare and at that smirk, then proceed to be on cloud-nine, realizing your children, despite being xerox copies of their father (both in looks and manners), did inherit certain features from you as well— something which a terribly competitive voice inside your head claims, is a great win— now, however, is decidedly no such time.  

Not when the person you’ve loved for these many years and know, will continue to do so for an eternity, looks one step away from being tormented to death– by none but the two milk-toothed lights of both of your lives.  

You watch Sachiko’s frown deepen, more than should be possible for someone her age, then begin. 

"Papa, I'm sorry but I have to break our deal. Sachiro is right. We two are the strongest duo of twins in the multiverse — we can't let you break our team this way. So, what if my brother makes a mistake? He's a young baby and babies are allowed to make mistakes, aren't they?"  

You wonder if she truly understands she was born a mere six minutes prior than her brother... and not six whole years, as appears to be the case right now. Holding back chuckles, you spare the person, addressed in the ‘not-really-apology' apology, an amused glance, then nod your head solemnly at her words.  

"They are, baby. They so are," you agree in the very next instant, then ask, a genuine inquiring inflection to your tone, "But what deal did Papa make you agree to, baby? Sounds pretty serious to me, to be honest." 

"Oh, it wasn't anything, sweet cheeks," your husband begins with an awfully nervous-sounding chortle; too bad, your daughter is quick to beat him to it. Throwing him a smirk, you can only describe to be devious, she looks back at you and grins. "Two weeks back, Papa found me in the living room, late at night, staring at shooting stars through the windows. And I found him walking away from the kitchen, eating a giant chocolate bar. Papa said you’ll be very mad because we didn’t listen to what you said, so, we should make a deal and become a team to keep this a secret from you." 

"Papa made that deal– only to divide us. So, our strong team can be destroyed and he can easily defeat us and keep you all for himself, Mama," your son chips in, puffy eyes narrowed into a very hard glare. Your daughter agrees vehemently from the opposite side.  

Your eyes drop to the glass of lemonade before you; you try your best to stifle the yawn.  

This fight over your affection has been going on since the time your children turned four or so... and despite them nearing an age of six in few months, no end can be seen in the horizon, to this war raging within your home...  

And as for the matter of Sachiko being awake way past her bedtime? You reckon you can't really do much on this, other than repeating the rules and the reasons behind each one of them– especially of punctuality and an adequate sleep– to her, like you did the last time... though, you think of toning your lecture down a little this time, considering it wasn't a video game but a meteor show she had stayed awake for... besides you too used to be — okay, no, wait, what??? 

Your husband's sheepish grin collides with the incensed glare you aim his way over the table. Letting out a frustrated huff of an exhale, your face turns away from his, choosing to stare at itself in the clean glass windows instead — too, too mad to acknowledge that white-haired, blue-eyed menace of yours, whining apologies with a pitiful gaze.  

You screw your eyes shut and let out a sigh. 

Being married to the yakuza king, Gojo Satoru, is a story, you deem, it couldn’t have been better, but being married to the sweet fiend, Gojo Satoru?  

Oh, sweet– no, strike that, you fucking hate that word—  

Oh, sour heavens above.  

That's a different story altogether. 

▸ if you've reached this point and still love me and/or my writing, istg I LOVE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH. writing something inspired by one's self-ship is so satisfying but so difficult, ngl. A BIG TYYY TO YOU WHO IS READING THIS LINE RN AFTER READING THIS MONSTROSITY OF A ONESHOT *sniffles*

▸ masterlist

[thegoldencontracts]

What's In A Bird: The Topsy-Turvy Ceremony

Many folks say that the freshmen of Night Raven College grow odder and odder by the year. And, of course, in this year, Riddle Rosehearts, Ruggie Bucchi, Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech, Floyd Leech, Jamil Viper, Silver, and one transfer student soon to arrive from Royal Sword Academy - Kalim Al Asim - will prove this notion correct for yet another year.

Length: 2.4k words

Notes: A fic of the sophomores in freshman year like I promised, at last! Here's to hoping this doesn't completely flop. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

This also serves as a kind of 400 follower special (not really though), I'm very grateful to everyone who's supported my fics, and feel free to send in any requests for this series! Anyways, on with the fic.

It was a known fact among the students and staff of Night Raven College that every single year of freshmen was odder than the last. For the one-hundred years or so that Dire Crowley had been headmage, he had never once been proven wrong.

And it seemed as if the headmage would be proven right once more.

This year's freshmen were all an odd bunch, it seemed. Divus looked over them scrutinizingly.

"Have any of them caught your attention?" Mozus asked. "I for one find the notion that you've deigned to pay attention to the ceremony and ensure no mishaps occur for once much too good to be true."

Divus merely sighed.

"The ceremony's going wrong either way, no need to be so uptight about 'supervision', or whatnot. The pups'll turn out just fine."

Mozus scoffed.

"Even some of our incoming freshmen have more responsibility than you, it seems," he said.

"Like that one redhead?"

It was so odd how - despite red being a common hair color - they immediately knew which boy Divus was referring to. Oh, Dire was so magnanimous for putting up with all these peculiar students!

"All of you, get in line at once, or it shall be Off With Your Head!" said the redhead boy in question. Threatening to- chop people's heads off? How odd.

Dire knew his name; like the kind and attentive headmage he was, he always cared for his students!

Yes - Puzzle Flowershape. Something like that.

"Riddle Rosehearts, no?" Mozus said. Close enough! "He's a rather good student from what I've seen."

Come to think of it, why were so many of the freshmen wearing clunky looking collars? That was a horrible fashion choice, was it not?

Oh, well. Dire would put up with that terrible fashion choice. The things he did for his students!

"Those things around their neck'll really get in the way of their exercise!" Ashton scoffed. "It looks like I'll have to teach these kids the proper way to dress for maximum power!"

"It looks like those kids have no magical aura! The collar's a curse, now isn't that tragic?" Sam said. "I'll be there if those poor kids need any help undoing that curse of theirs."

"I do hope you'll provide the aid for free?"

"No promises!" Sam said, before looking at the students in curiosity.

A few seconds later, Sam pointed to two of the students in the crowd.

"Those two seem smart," he said, pointing first to a hyena beastman, then to a grey-haired boy. By sharp, of course, Sam was referring to business-smart. There was quite a difference between that, and academic prowess. The hyena boy only seemed to possess the second with those wide eyes of his, and the grey-haired boy, hiding behind two identical twins, seemed to possess neither.

Of course, Dire was a kind man. He'd give Sam a chance to explain his reasoning.

"Are you certain?" Dire asked. Sam merely nodded with a chuckle.

"Clever hawks hide their talons, you know," he said. That was true.

And, come to think of it, the boy's behavior still required observing.

"Hey there," said the boy to the Pomefiore Housewarden. "I got you that makeup you wanted."

How exactly had he acquired that brand? Dire vaguely recalled some talk of how difficult it was to acquire. Truly, he was such a good headmage, always listening to his students!

"Thanks," said the Pomefiore Housewarden in turn, handing the hyena boy a massive wad of cash. How- How had the boy already acquired that much money?

"Those wide, shrunken eyes are likely a product of a lack of access to food," Sam said. Come to think of it, the boy was, well, a hyena. Did that not mean he was from the slums? And, considering the ingenuity required to survive in the slums as a mage, well-

"You're quite right!" he said with a laugh. "But what of the other boy?"

Of an average, unremarkable height, and a frail stature, the grey-haired boy had lodged himself between two twins.

"We should be looking at those two!" Ashton said, pointing to the tall, muscular twin boys. "They'd be great for the basketball team with those athletic reflexes of theirs!"

It would be best to observe first before coming to judgments,

"Dude," said one of the twins, practically shoving the phone into the grey-haired boy's face. "Check out this rare pepe."

The grey-haired boy scoffed, pushing the phone away with a scowl.

"The only thing I'll be 'checking out' is the socials of our peers," he said. "And the picture of the dearest headmage looking at cat photos while a student is attempting to get his attention," said the other twin.

How- How had they even seen that? Dire would have to do whatever it took to ensure that photo for the sake of avoiding bad PR- er, avoiding the entirely false notion that he was anything less than a kind-hearted and diligent headmage who would never ignore his students!

"I think you understand what I mean now," Sam said.

"Indeed," said Dire. "To think, he'd so viciously use photoshop to make it seem as if I'd ever do such a thing!"

"You would," Mozus said. "I find myself more concerned with how exactly they attained that picture."

However, before any further discussion could occur, a shriek was heard.

"Ugh!" said one of the twin boys - the droopy-eyed one. "This is boring."

That was never a good sign. 'This is boring' was the last thing said before the ceremony had gone wrong ten years ago, or twenty-three years ago, or thiry-five years ago, or fourty-two years ago, or fifty-two years ago, or during one of those ceremonies over sixty years ago that Dire had forgetten about.

Out of all the phrases said before ceremonies had gone wrong, 'This is boring' was - by far - the most common.

"Hey!" the droopy-eyed boy said, eyes on that one redhead who was surrounded by students in collars. "You look interesting, Goldfishie."

"My name is Riddle Rosehearts, not 'Goldfishie'," said the redheaded boy, Riddle. "And you'd do well to return to your place in the line."

"Nah," said the droopy-eyed boy, flicking his pen and causing a vine to settle itself on the ground. "Hey, this stuff's pretty cool!"

"I will not stand for this insolence! Off With Your Head!"

A collar wrapped itself around the droopy-eyed boy's neck.

"H-Huh?" he said, pulling at it in confusion. Riddle smirked.

"I warned you," he said. So that was what he meant by 'off with your head'. "You've broken the rules, and now you must-"

And then the fire-bolt was hurled.

It was a terrible, terrible thing, catching fire on the conjured vine and spreading further from there, sending students fleeing.

"Holy shit, dude!" the droopy-eyed boy said, eyes sparkling with glee. "You really are interesting, Goldfishie!"

Riddle had been the one to send the fire-bolt? This whole thing was simply growing more and more absurd!

"I didn't send that!" Cried Riddle.

...T-Then who had?

"Dire," Divus said through grit teeth. "Our top priority right now is ensuring no one gets burned. We can figure out which naughty pup did this later."

That was true. There was a bit of panicking, to say the least.

Which was to say that every student was in a frenzy.

"We're all gonna die!"

"I'm too young for this, Lord Hades! Spare me!"

"Take him instead!"

"H-Hey, don't take me, take him!"

"Are you going to put out the fire, or what?" Divus said, tapping his foot impatiently. Dire could somewhat hear him over the sound of screams.

"What have you done, Floyd?" said the grey-haired boy. "From now on we'll all be labelled as delinquents!" "Hey!" The droopy-eyed boy - Floyd - said. "Don't blame me for that thing, Azul!"

Azul just sighed.

"Jade, was this your doing?"

The other twin - Jade - shook his head.

"I do look forward to seeing the face of the man who disrupted the ceremony in such a manner," he said with a laugh.

Those three were odd. But even odder was the raven-haired boy who seemed entirely calm in the midst of the mess, merely putting out the fire gathering around him.

"Hello there," he said without so much as a glance as the hyena-beastman approached him.

"Heeeyyyy there, bud!" The hyena boy said. "You seem- not freaked out."

"My name is Jamil Viper," said the raven-haired boy - Jamil - almost robotically. "Please do not concern yourself with my affairs. I am but a humble se-"

And all of a sudden, Jamil snapped out of his robotic little monologue, looking down at his hands in shock.

"Nevermind," he said, mumbling a smug "I'm free for now" underneath his breath. The hyena boy blinked in confusion.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing," Jamil said. "What's your name?"

"Ruggie," Ruggie answered hastily. "And what's got you so calm? Isn't the school on fire or something? Don't tell me-"

Ruggie flashed a conspiratorial grin.

"Did you start it?" He asked. Jamil shook his head.

"I didn't," he said. "This just isn't all that severe an emergency. We'll put out the fire with ease."

With ease? By himself? Was Jamil not a mere freshman? He knew naught but basic magic, certainly not enough to put out a fire as big as this one!

"Uh, putting it out ourselves?" Ruggie said. "Don't you wanna get like, the headmage or something- Oh, hey there, headmage!" Ruggie shouted in an attempt to be heard through the screams of other students.

Ruggie had finally noticed him, it seemed.

"Hello, esteemed students!" Dire said. "My name is Dire Crowley, headmage of Night Raven College, a-"

"Can you put out the fire?" Ruggie shouted. Why did no one wish to hear about his extremely important information?

"Yes, yes, of course," Dire said. "I will put out the fire."

But he didn't have to. Divus was already there, getting the students attention with the crack of his whip.

"Pups!" he said. "No need to panic. The fire will be put out shortly. Next time any such emergency occurs, I expect you all to follow the procedure constantly taught to you during fire drills instead of flailing around like blind chihuahuas."

A thin sheet of water was summoned upon the floor, Divus flicked his magic-pen. The fire was put out. Phew.

Floyd raised his hand.

"Yes?" Divus asked.

"What's a fire drill?"

"Keep quiet, Floyd," Azul hissed to him in what he likely thought was so quiet no one could hear. However, on top of immense magnanimity and diligence, Dire also had impeccable hearing. One of the many blessings of being a fae, before turning to the Octavinelle housewarden. "I apologize for any inconvenience you've been caused."

He knew he was going to be sorted into Octavinelle, didn't he? Azul was most likely correct about that. However, it would be rather comedic if he was sorted somewhere else.

"You'd do well to apologize to everyone, er- Floyd," said Riddle. "I shall take off the collar if you can prove you've thoroughly repented."

"Uh," Floyd paused, before going completely off-topic. "I think the guppy that's under the chair next to me leg should wake up."

Riddle looked at him incredulously.

"What in the name of the Seven are you blathering on about-" A glance underneath the chair next to Floyd's leg revealed a silver-haired boy, a thin shield of water conjured around him.

Smart.

He'd fallen asleep though.

Ruggie creeped over towards the silver-haired boy, shaking his shoulders awkwardly.

"You good?" Jamil motioned for him to stop.

"He likely has some underlying condition," he said. "I'd wager it's magically induced narcolepsy."

All the oddest freshmen, gathered in one place while the others celebrated the fact that they weren't dead. How- quaint.

A few seconds later, the silver-haired boy's eyes fluttered open, as he took a second to process his surroundings.

"H-Huh?" he said, before realizing what had happened. "E-Er, apologies."

"Please prepare yourself for sorting," Riddle said, voice much less snippy than it ordinarily was. "You've managed to wake up just in time."

"T-Thank you," said the silver-haired boy. The quiet sort, it seemed.

"You really ought to get back in line yourself, dearest Riddle!" said Azul, bearing a saccharine grin.

"The same would go for you, I believe," said Jade with a grin even more sickly sweet. Azul groaned.

"Tell Floyd that."

"Yeah, yeah," Floyd said. "I'm gettin' in line."

Azul glared at him. "And I'm sorry," he said, despite the fact that he clearly didn't want to. Azul looked at Riddle expectantly. Riddle merely sighed.

"I wouldn't call this thorough repenting," he said.

"Please remove the collar from my business partner's neck." Business partners? Was that was kids these days callhed their friends? Dire had clearly fallen behind on trends.

Riddle scoffed.

"Have him apologize to me personally first," he said. Floyd rolled his eyes.

"Stop talking' about me like I'm not here."

"I do believe that collar restricts your magic, dearest brother." And all of a sudden, Floyd had become the most positively contrite person to ever grace Twisted Wonderland.

"I'm so, so sorry," he said through sniffles. "I'll never do it again, honest!"

It was only when Floyd conjured a ukelele that Riddle finally backed down, removing the collar.

"T-That's more than enough!" he said. "I do hope you've learned from this."

But Floyd wasn't listening.

"Whoo!" he said, all contriteness gone from sight. Floyd was quite the good actor, thought Dire idly.

"Get back in line quickly, pups," said Divus with the crack of a whip. The students scrambled to fall in line.

Well then, at least the chaotic part of the ceremony was over.

--------

A few hours later, the sorting was over. And frankly, Dire was most interested in the positions of seven particular students.

"The Rosehearts boy was placed in Heartslabyul," Mozus said in the break-room, sipping on a cup of tea.

"No one was shocked by that," said Divus. "The sortings were quite obvious. Bucchi in Savannaclaw, Viper in Scarabia, Ashengrotto and Leech in Octavinelle, and Silver in Diasomnia. And that means-" he turned to Dire. Curses. "I won all the bets. Pay up."

His poor wallet was aching, crying out in pain!

"Fine, fine," said Dire, forced to cruelly rip those precious thaumarks from their home in his wallet. "Here you are."

Mozus sighed.

"This school is known as Night Raven College," he said. "I was under the impression that - despite their mischievousness, ravens are smart. Not foolish enough to start fires before the first day."

Dire merely laughed.

"Well, Mozus," he said. "Do recall the old adage 'What's in a name'? The name of the school won't change the intellect of our students!"

"Yes, yes."

"So tell me," he continued.

"What's in a bird?"

[onlyonetifosi]

Behind the camera -> chapter 4

<- previous series masterlist my main masterlist next ->

Yn stared at herself in the mirror, her reflection framed by the elegant ballet studio. Her leotard clung to her small frame, a reminder of the grueling practice she had just finished. She wiped a bead of sweat from her brow and took a deep breath. Ballet was her passion, but it wasn't always a serene escape.

The girls from her ballet class had been teasing her since she was three. Now, at eight years old, their barbs were sharper, more targeted. Yn couldn't escape them, not even when she stepped outside the studio. They were in her school, in her life, and it seemed like they existed just to torment her.

"Hey, Yn, did you trip over your own feet again?" One of the girls, Isabelle, sneered.

Yn rolled her eyes. "No, Isabelle, but I heard you tripped over your own ego."

The girls exchanged annoyed glances, clearly taken aback by Yn's quick wit. They weren't used to someone standing up to them.

"You think you're so cool just because your brother is famous," another girl, Margot, chimed in.

Yn clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. It was true that Charles, her twin brother, had risen to fame as an F1 driver. But she refused to let that define her.

"You're right," Yn replied with a smirk. "I am cool. And not just because of Charles. I'm cool because I don't need to put others down to feel good about myself."

"Tu crois que tu es tellement intelligente, n'est-ce pas?" Sophie snapped back (You think you're so clever, don't you?)

Yn smirked, her confidence unwavering, "Eh bien, au moins plus intelligente que toi à ce stade" (Well, at least smarter than you at this point)

The girls huffed and turned away, clearly frustrated that their usual taunts were having no effect on Yn. This was the dynamic that had been playing out since they were all in diapers, and Yn wasn't about to back down now. As she turned back to the mirror, she caught a glimpse of her twin brother's mischievous grin.

Charles leaned against the doorframe, his eyes sparkling with admiration for his feisty sister. He had always been amazed by Yn's unbreakable spirit. Their bond was more than just that of siblings; it was a partnership built on shared experiences, challenges, and triumphs.

"Ballet class drama again, huh?" Charles asked, walking over to Yn.

Yn shrugged, "Same old, same old. They just can't stand the fact that I exist."

Charles chuckled, "Well, you do have a knack for stealing the spotlight."

Yn rolled her eyes, "Oh please, as if I asked for this."

He ruffled her hair affectionately, "You're handling it like a champ though."

"That's what Leclercs do," Yn replied with a smirk.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day at school, the torment continued. Yn's friends, were waiting for her, and Joris and Riccardo, flanked her as they walked down the hallway.

"Hey, guys," Yn replied, a genuine smile finally gracing her lips.

Joris playfully punched her shoulder. "Ready for the big history test?"

Yn rolled her eyes playfully. "Of course, I've been studying. Unlike some people I know."

Riccardo joined in the banter. "Well, some of us have other things on our minds, like winning the karting race this weekend."

Yn and Charles walked through the school corridors, their laughter mingling with the familiar buzz of students shuffling between classes. As they reached their lockers, Yn's heart skipped a beat. A knot formed in her stomach when she spotted the group of ballet girls huddled near her locker. Their perfectly coordinated outfits and disdainful expressions were a stark contrast to Yn's casual confidence.

"Tiens, tiens, if it isn't the Leclerc twins," the ringleader of the group sneered, her voice dripping with malice.

Yn's eyes rolled, her lips curling into a sardonic smile. "Oh, great, the mean girls club is in session early today. Should I fetch you all some croissants to complete the picture?"

The girls exchanged baffled glances, momentarily taken aback by Yn's boldness.

"Tu te prends pour qui?" one of them hissed. (Who do you think you are?)

Charles leaned against his locker, an amused grin playing on his lips. He knew better than to underestimate his sister's ability to put people in their place.

"Salut les filles," he chimed in, catching their attention. "Est-ce que vous avez besoin d'une leçon de bonne conduite?" (Hi, girls. Do you need a lesson in good behavior?)

Joris and Riccardo, Yn's two closest friends, joined them, flanking her protectively. Joris crossed his arms, a mockingly stern expression on his face. "Ouais, vous devriez apprendre à respecter les gens, non?" (Yeah, you should learn to respect people, shouldn't you?)

Yn laughed, her confidence growing. "I mean, they don't have the best track record for learning, do they?"

Riccardo joined in, a playful glint in his eyes. "Je suis d'accord. Ils sont plutôt doués pour être idiots." (I agree. They're quite talented at being idiots)

The ballet girls exchanged furious glances, their veneer of superiority cracking under the weight of Yn's retorts and the unified front of her friends.

"Enough of this nonsense" Isabelle snapped, her voice quivering. "Let's go, girls. These losers aren't worth our time"

As the ballet girls stormed away, Yn and her friends burst into laughter, their camaraderie a testament to their unbreakable bond.

"Thanks, guys," Yn said, her heart warmed by their unwavering support.

Joris clapped Yn on the back. "Anytime, Yn. You know we've got your back."

Riccardo nodded "Exactly. And besides, those girls wouldn't know class if it hit them in the face."

Charles grinned and clapped their hands "Well said, both of you"

Yn's gaze softened as she looked at her friends. She was beyond grateful for their presence in her life. Through thick and thin, they had stood by her side, and together, they formed a force to be reckoned with.

"Alright, let's head to class," Charles said, breaking the momentary reverie.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that afternoon, Yn found herself once again in the ballet studio, surrounded by the polished mirrors and the haunting melody of the piano. As the ballet instructor guided them through the routine, the bullies' harsh whispers echoed in her mind.

"Yn, tu es tellement inutile ici. Personne ne veut de toi dans notre groupe" (Yn, you're so useless here. No one wants you in our group)

A flash of anger surged through Yn's veins, but she suppressed it, focusing on her movements. The dance was her sanctuary, her escape from the world's turmoil. She pirouetted with precision, her determination shining through each graceful step.

After the class, Yn walked out with her head held high, refusing to let the bullies see her falter. As she approached her friends waiting outside, Charles wrapped an arm around her shoulders, a silent gesture of support.

"Comment ça s'est passé?" he asked, concern etched across his features. ("How did it go?")

Yn smiled, leaning into her brother's embrace. "Comme d'habitude. Je danse pour moi, pas pour elles" (As usual. I dance for myself, not for them)

The ballet girls might try to undermine her, but they were no match for her wit and her unshakable friends. After all, she was Yn Leclerc—the sassy bad bitch who never backed down.

taglist: @love4lando @gcldtom @im-mi @topguncultleader@celesteblack08 @reblog-princess @sunf1ower16

[sapphirelass]

In my Blood ~ Will Solace x Sister!Reader

Hi you guys! Wow, it's been over a year😅 I'm still working toward my uni degree (physics, maths and upper secondary school education for those of you who don't know), spending time with my boyfriend, hanging out with friends, and visiting my family as often as I can. I promise I have done a fair bit of writing this past year, just not finished anything... But, here we are! Really looking forward to the PJO-series, but while we're all waiting, here's a Will imagine because Will is great <3

----------------------

To read as xOC, click here

Words: 2500 ish

Warnings: injury, blood, wounds, angst (normal demigod stuff really, but you know)

Please note that English isn't my first language! I have studied it for over a decade, and speak it fluently, but there might still be some grammatical errors and a mix of British/American expressions - thanks for understanding :)

y/n - your name

y/n/n - your nickname

she/her reader

Enjoy! :)

----------------------

“Get down!” she shouted, as a giant, angry, terrifying cyclops approached them. “Listen closely now; do you see that huge pine tree over there? And the statue? Run past them, and you’ll find people who’ll help. I’ll try to buy you as much time as possible!”

The two seven-year-old half-bloods that had just been saved and brought to camp (well, almost anyway) sat off towards the border, as (y/n) Solace, daughter of Apollo, stayed behind and pulled her sword out. She was a way more advanced archer than swordfighter, but the one bow she had brought with her had fallen out of her firm grip as she jumped behind a boulder for cover. She had made an attempt at getting it back, however, that just resulted in her body coming crashing to the ground as the cyclops’ hand collided with her chest, while the bow ended up in between the hard ground and the monster’s massive foot… (Y/n) threw her head back and sighed at the sight of her trusty old weapon in pieces, and it wasn’t until she tried to push herself back up on her feet that she noticed a terrible pain spreading through her left arm from her elbow. It hurt badly, but since she didn’t have much of a choice, (y/n), suddenly feeling slightly dizzy, pushed herself back up with her other hand and looked for another road to victory. 

After a few minutes of trying to attack the monster with her sword, but repeatedly failing since getting close enough without getting hit herself proved to be very difficult, (y/n) quickly ran in a circle around the monster causing him to stumble - if only for a second. She wasted no time launching herself at the cyclops with her sword and - *SPLASH*. The sharp, metal blade bore deep into the slimy eye, and the cyclops staggered backwards, slowly disintegrating. (y/n) was just about to take a deep breath when she felt a stinging sensation in her abdomen. Briefly glancing down, she winced as she realized what had happened. The monster must have grabbed one of her arrows from the quiver she had thrown onto the ground, and, rather violently judging by the amount of blood oozing through her orange t-shirt, pushed one into her side. 

Being a demigod, (y/n) had obviously suffered multiple injuries before, though never quite ones as bad as this. The bottom half of her shirt was now more red than orange, and she could feel the world spinning slightly. Groaning, she sat down against a tree and inspected the wound carefully. She wanted to pull the arrow out, but her twin brother Will had always strongly argued against doing something just like that. A vague memory of him saying something along the lines of “the weapon possibly being the only thing keeping you from losing too much blood”... Sighing, she started to slowly make her way toward camp but didn’t make it very far before stumbling over her own feet and falling forwards on the cold hard ground. (Y/n) coughed up something that looked like a mixture of spit and blood before pushing herself to her feet again with the help of her sword. It wasn’t a speedy process, but she kept walking in the direction of the infirmary, stopping to catch her breath every few steps.

---

“(y/n/n)?!” She only had a few hundred meters to go when two of her closest friends - Travis and Connor Stoll - came running towards her with worried faces. Typically when the brothers approached someone together in this way it was with mischievous smiles on their faces and usually followed by a prank of some sort, but not this time. “What in the name of the gods happened to you?”, Travis asked, as Connor carefully placed (y/n)’s right arm across his shoulders to help support her. “We ran into some new kids who said you’d picked a fight with a giant?”

“Oh hardly…”, she demonstrated. “If anyone picked a fight it was him! And besides, it was just a normal cyclops, and not even a very big one.” She winced slightly when Travis smiled and grabbed her other arm, but started walking more steadily thanks to the brothers. “But my bow broke, and - friendly advice - don’t try to take out a cyclops with nothing but a sword.”

“You should put that on a T-shirt.”, Travis joked but shut up quickly when (y/n)’s knees buckled and she stumbled again. He sent her a worried glance as Connor spoke up.

“So, what happened? How bad off are you really?”

She told them the story as they walked slowly down the hill and across the volleyball court. They were right by the big house when (y/n) finished the story.

“Gods…”, Connor mumbled, changing his grip around his friend’s shoulder to give her even more support. “You know Will’s gonna kill you himself this time, right?”. (Y/n) was about to answer him when someone opened the door to the infirmary and beat her to it.

“Who do I have to kill? I swear, if Nico is shadow travelling like a madman agai- Oh Gods!”, Will interrupted himself, a look of horror on his face as he was met with the sight of his twin sister barely able to stand up, and covered from head to toe in blood, mud, and dirt. “(y/n/n), what happened?!” He examined her quickly before holding the door open so the Hermes boys could get in and slowly lay (y/n) on one of the bunks.

“It’s a bit of a story, and I don’t know if I feel like repeating it again right now”, she said weakly, wincing a bit as Will swiftly pulled her worn jean jacket off, “but the short version is that a cyclops punched me and I have an arrow through my stomach… And probably a broken arm too. And I might have hit my head when I fell… it, eh, hurts a bit…”

“Gods…”, Will sighed, “Well, do you feel nauseous? Disorientated? Can you see clearly or is anything blurry?” 

“Eh… a little dizzy maybe, and a weak headache, but my sight is fine and I’m not feeling sick.”

 “Right”, Will mumbled as he wiped a small amount of blood from his sister’s forehead and briefly inspected the small wound. “Something positive I suppose…”. He put a small bandaid on it to slow the bleeding down at least momentarily, before moving to look at his sister’s arm which was indeed bent in a rather weird way. “Well, head-related injuries are always scary, I’ll have to examine it further to know how bad it actually is. The arm is absolutely broken - annoying, but fixable - though this arrow…” He grabbed a pair of scissors and cut through her T-shirt so that he could get to the wound.  “Jeez, (y/n/n)… How long have you been bleeding?”

She took a deep breath before answering. “I’m not sure, it feels like an eternity, but an hour maybe?”

“AN HOUR?!” Will tried to stay calm, but his now pale face told another story. “Holy… Okay, eh, (y/n/n), I’m gonna… I have to get the arrow out and stop the bleeding as fast as I can, you- you’ve already lost way too much blood. Let's just hope that it missed anything vital.”

He whispered the last part, but (y/n) hardly heard the rest either, as she slowly but steadily started drifting off to sleep. “Sure thing… You do that, I’m just gonna doze off for a quick sec…”

“Oh no, you’re not!” Will dropped what he was holding and grabbed her shoulders to shake her gently. “(Y/n/n), I get that you’re exhausted, but you have to stay awake. As I said, you lost a lot of blood, and you may have a concussion. Sorry, I’m not even gonna argue with you - you’re not falling asleep.”

He turned back to the brothers who were watching from afar, wanting to know what happened but also not being in the way. “Connor, Travis, you have to keep her talking while I work, okay?”

“Sure”, Travis nodded, as Connor grabbed (y/n)’s right hand again. “Wanna tell us about the new kids?”

“Yeah”, Connor added. “They seem cool!”

“They are…” (y/n) moved a bit, carefully letting Will remove the piece of her T-shirt that he had cut off to get to the wound. “Only seven years old, fighters both of them. They ran away from different orphanages in Vermont and took down a basilisk together in Albany and have taken care of each other si- AHHHHH.”

She let out a harsh scream as her brother swiftly pulled what was left of the arrow out of her chest, and would probably have rolled off the bed if not for the Stoll brothers holding her down as Will apologised profusely. 

“I’m so sorry, (y/n/n)”, he mumbled sadly, as he handed Travis a big piece of ambrosia, “but that was the worst of it. You’re doing really well, just hold on. You should try to have some ambrosia now that the arrow’s out.” She struggled to take a few shallow breaths as the extreme pain slowly began to fade again, but nodded and accepted the small piece of godly food Travis was offering her. The pain instantly lessened even more as the flavour of her mother’s gingerbread cookies combined with a touch of magic consumed her whole being. (Y/n) finally took a really deep breath, but when she exhaled it felt as if every single drop of energy she had been grasping onto left her at once. She allowed herself to close her eyes and immediately began drifting off to sleep, the worried voices of Will, Travis, and Connor simply fading into silence.

---

(Y/n) was desperate for a few hours of peaceful rest, but unfortunately sleep and nightmares tended to almost always go hand in hand for demigods. She relived the last 24 hours in her sleep, everything from leaving camp in the early morning feeling excited to bring some new kids back to the exhausting battle that could have ended badly if not for the cyclops’ inability to stay on its feet. During the actual fight, it had happened so quickly that she hadn’t even noticed it at first, but this time she could clearly see how the monster roughly yanked a sharp arrow from her quiver and began making his way back towards her. She lay flat on the ground, desperately trying to move out of the way, but she couldn’t. It was as if all her muscles suddenly decided to to take any more orders from her brain. The cyclops lifted his arm, getting ready to deliver the final blow, as (y/n) closed her eyes, starting to accept her fate.

It felt as if time itself stopped. All she could hear was her own shaky breathing - until suddenly it wasn’t… There was a also voice, far away, sure, but still clearly there…

“(Y/n/n)? Please wake up! C’mon!”

It sounded familiar, but she couldn’t pinpoint who it belonged to. She focused and tried to listen for the voice again, but she was so exhausted… Giving in to the darkness felt so inviting… And simple. She could do with simple for once.

“No, no, no!” The voice cracked, panic and desperation shining through. “Don’t you dare give up now! C’mon, (y/n), I’m here, I’ve got you! Don’t give up… please…”

She was so close to slipping away, but something about that seemed wrong, and the reassuring words plus the comforting feeling brought to her by the sound of the familiar voice gave her precisely the boost of energy she needed. Shaking herself out of the nightmare, (y/n) inhaled sharply before shooting up, her eyes darting around the room until someone gently placed their hands on her shoulders, causing her to meet their gaze.

“(y/n)!”

She blinked a few times, shaking violently as she began realizing where she was. “Will?”

“Oh Gods!” He hugged her tightly, perhaps a bit too tight, but it didn’t matter in that moment - the 16-year-old was just so incredibly relieved to see that his sister was alright. “You’re alive!”

(Y/n)’s breathing evened out again as she leaned into her brother. “I’m sorry, Will. I’m so sorry…”

He didn’t let go of her arms, but moved back slightly and sent her a questioning look. “What do you mean?”

“I… I just… I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Gods, (y/n/n), I always worry.” He moved closer again. “I’m just happy you’re okay! I mean, it’ll be a while before you’re back doing quests of course”, he sent her a serious look, “but the fact that you woke up is a good sign”. 

(Y/n) accepted the ambrosia piece Will offered to her before answering. “All thanks to you.”

“Well”, he shrugged, “your body did most of the hard work...” (Y/n) shook her head at Will’s modesty before starting to push herself off the bed to stand up.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!! Stop! What do you think you’re doing?!”, Will exclaimed, swiftly pushing her back down. "You have been unconscious for over four days and lost so much blood, and that’s not even mentioning your head, arm or other random scratches. You’re staying here at least until Friday, no discussion.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, secretly feeling very lucky to have a brother as caring as Will. "Okay, I'm sorry. I just need to stretch my legs for a second, please? Help me out?" 

Will didn’t look too happy with the idea, but understood how stiff she must be feeling after so many days and nodded. It wasn’t like (y/n) wanted to get up and run, she still felt really tired and weak. However, after that horrifying moment of helplessness that she experienced in her dream, just the confirmation that she could in fact still move her arms and legs was incredibly comforting. When everything felt normal, she tried a few careful steps and immediately stumbled, but didn’t fall thanks to Will’s support.

“Light-headed?”

“Yeah, a bit…”

“Alright, that’s enough, back you go.” He guided her back to the bed, and she lay her head back down on the pillow.

"There we go!", Will smiled, "can I get you anything?"

"A cup of tea, please? Red, no honey?"

"You’ve got it!"

Five minutes later Will returned, balancing two cups of tea and a cheese sandwich on a tray. "Who ordered the tea and sandwich?", he asked jokingly as he sat the tray on the bed. He placed some pillows against the wall and slowly helped his sister sit up against them. “That would be me", she smiled. Will also sat down on the bed and put an arm around (y/n). She took a small bite of the sandwich and leaned her head on her brother's shoulder. The siblings drank their tea in silence, enjoying the feeling of being together and safe, if only for the night.

<3

//L masterlist

[tired-hellowl]

here' a comprehensive list as to every problem I have with the current *unecessary characters known as 'Glitz and Glam'

Do they expand the story/worldbuilding in any meaningful way? Do they explore a new hidden dynamic/past conjunction with a differing character and is that explored meaningfully? What was the point of having them animated when Mammon can portray the same level of humiliation/degrading/on stage lack of positive reinforcements. 😐

I'm so sorry but I view these characters as necessary garbage that caused some animators arthritis via too many patterns, not enough screen time to have meat and potatoes worth of dialogue, or really any pretense within the story whatsoever and yes this extends towards every female character on screen but let's not worry about that !!! Even if they are IMPLIED to be from the ring of envy-a color or ring we haven't seen nor meaningfully conveyed to the audience that it even is possible to go in/exists- it isn't conveyed to the audience well enough besides the visual implication of colors???? Instead of having shitty b-plots that go nowhere via Stolas and Blitz goofing off in seeing stars, Moxxie and Millie getting C-plots for no reason, or loona getting a rabies shot- all of that time could have been exploring hell, going to different rings, focusing on other characters besides the main 5, literally I would prefer a quiet episode like BoJack Horsemans 'Fish out of Water'where we can actually see the personalities of the main characters be appreciated and shown to us but that's never gonna happen :/

What I've been worried about is not even the on screen racism/out of touch 'rap/hip-hop parody' leaves a terrible taste in my mouth, if that isn't enough then the sexualization/implication of an incest type dynamic and nothing else besides fetish bait with these characters constantly grabbing one another and not really acting like siblings moreso someone who has never had siblings attempting to write sibling banter and failing terribly :/

Why do you have a problem with 'Klown Bitch' it's so catchy! Uhm, no??? I feel bad for anyone who attempts to defend helluva/hazbin as good modern musicals let me grit my teeth in silence as to the glorification over white people dominating black culture

HERES A HISTORY OF FEMALE HIPHOP ARTISTS: X

Pictured above is very old concept art about twin characters and its the same hairshape viv kept to transfer over to glitz/glam- despite clearly being over designed and way too much going on Alá vivzie style. It just goes to show she recycles even from herself and not every design is always new hot and fresh :/ AND SPEAKING OF CONCEPT ART-

Also also don't forget salems' concept designs thst got passed even though they loon toony, loony, clown enough, and definitely majorly way easier to have animated besides the mess that is the current design meta ???

Love how you can clearly see the silhouettes being so easily identifiable comparably towards the actual amalgamated mess that is their current limbs attempting to hold onto their toothpick body for their head.

All this screams to me is viv using the artists thst try to come onto helluva and they try their best with what their given, viv only picks the best bits SHE thinks is worth her time rather then thinking about the audience or animating anything else besides overglorified white people rap 🤔

Also the episode literally presents its full internalized misogyny/racism within this episode because vivzie herself literally admitted to typing into script with a full chest that

'Women just ain't funny'

. . .

why present misogyny within the series if you as a creator aren't willing to tackle the subject matter? Why write about it or present it as if you're smart over including the joke in your script when it isn't even funny because it just further pushes women out of the entertainment/comedy business which mind you IS ALREADY VERY WELL MALE DOMINATED SO PUTTING OTHER WOMEN DOWN TO PUT YOURSELF UP ISNT HELPING YOUR CASE VIV???

So then what was the point of adding female clowns if all you were going to do with them was make fun of them out of their expense and then profit off of the fact that they are incest coded????????????

?????????Are we watching the same fucking series????????