#kind of mean to do to your new son. but funny

[heroesriseandfall]

Clark Kent’s birthday canonically being February 29th is hysterical to me. Not because it’s meant to jokingly explain away how Superman is a timeless character, but because it implies Martha and Jonathan Kent found an alien baby in a cornfield, and when pressed to choose a birthday for their new baby, they gave him the most difficult birthday possible.

[deaddovedecadence]

Title: Puppies

Warning(s): manipulation, yandere shit, yelling

Summery: after a fight with bruce, duke brings you a gift (but not is all that is seems to be)

Bruce is a dick when he’s angry, but he never yells and that’s the worst part. He takes, takes everything that you are and makes you feel so small, and sometimes you think that this is what Jason run, because if he had to deal with this when he was young then why wouldn’t he.

You’ve curled up in your bathroom, the room door that locks, and you’ve rested yourself against it, not thinking about how you’re breaking another rules because there are so many rules and you always seem to fuck up even on the days that you're trying to be good. There is not good enough for them, there is nothing you can do to get your freedom because they are all faster, stronger, smarter then you are. They've done a millions times and you've never been held hostage and been told that it's for love.

this is nopt love, this is possession and you do not want possession. Does freedom even exist for you, made something that you didn't used to be by them, because of them.

"Hey," there's a voice from outside the door, pulling you away from the spiral that you've sunken into. You don't respond to the voice even though you know that it's just Duke, Duke the only person not to raise his hands againt you, never cruel, always patient, always kind. It was with him that you meant to go on a outing with but now, you don't want to leave this bathroom, because at least it is safe in the bathroom.

There's a soft rapping sound and Duke sighs, "I heard that Bruce lost his mind, huh? That probably really sucked." He's making an understatement and you both know it but Duke is gentle anyways, (a predator) coaxing you out of your hiding spot. "Tell me what happened and I'll give you a surprise." he says, and Duke's surprises are always good so you start.

"I didn't know that bruce didn't know about our outing," you whisper, "i was waiting on the front step and he saw and he lost it. Duke, am I really nothing without you?" There's a hissed out sigh from Duke, "You know that Bruce gets anxious about us, right? Specially you an Jase cause you're new and Jase is fresh home. He didn't mean to." You know that and yet, it's not enough right now. "I told you what happened," you snap, "so give me my surprise now."

Your (not a) brother laughs, "only if you unlock the door and come out.” You unlock the door, slowly opening it. It’s duke and he’s holding something, well two something’s actually. He’s holding what look like twin Rottie puppies and they’re so cute. “I thought you’d like to have someone besides me and Jase. You take one of them and coo and it. “Whats their name?” You mumble, holding the puppy tight across your chest. “I thought it might be funny to name them Shadow and sunshine. I’d take shadow, she’s a girl, and you could have sunshine, he’s a boy .” You croon and Sunshine with his black fur and bright blue eyes. “They’re perfect. thank you duke.”

Duke smiles, “and because they are puppies, we get to go to training together so more outings.” You grin at him, crooning at the say that sunshine yawns. “Can he sleep here?” You murmur, and Duke nods.

“Thank you Duke,”

“Welcome Sunshine.”

-

Bruce is getting some work done with his son storms into his office, eyes glowing in way that they only do when he’s angry. “What’s wrong?” he says, and Duke hisses, that sound more animal then anything a normal human could make.

“You really had to fuck up all my progress with them? I got sunshine to the point of not wanting to escape and you nearly ruined all that because you’re scared.” Bruce stands, staring at duke. “I did not know,” he snaps, “I did not know and I didn’t mean to.”

His son laughs, the sound cold. “I know that but that doesn’t mean you ruin all my fuckin progress with Sushine cause you a paranoid motherfucker.” Some of Duke’s gotham is slipping into his accent as he speaks, never yelling but obvious furious. There’s a knock on the door, and Dick slips in, looking at the two of them before sighing, “just go spar it out and you’ll feel better.” Duke slips out of the room, tiling his head in a way that means follow so bruce follows.

Author’s note: Duke is such a scary yandere to me bc this man really be bending you in ways that you can’t even notice. Yes the dog was a plot to get you to stay with them and not run. Duke genuinely does not care what he has to do to protect his family and I think that he’s so real for that /j

[such-expensive-mistakes]

Superpham AU (part 7)

Masterpost

A short one today, but I thought this section was funny (until it got sad again).

-----

It’s a quiet evening in the Lane-Kent household: Lois is trying to turn her notes into an article, Clark is going over Jon’s math homework, and Jon is watching a show Lois is only half-following.  It features lots of gunfire and explosions, though Lois’s— unfortunately extensive— experience with witnessing real violence makes the version on TV look cartoonish.  She suspects that is part of the show’s appeal.

Danny is paying about as much attention to the TV as Lois is, engrossed in something on his phone.  At least he’s in the same room as the rest of them, instead of sequestering himself away.

“Hey Lois?” Danny suddenly asks.

Lois looks up from her work.  “What’s up?”

“Did you know the internet thinks you’re Superman’s girlfriend?”

Lois knows that if she looks at Clark, he’ll be turning red, the way he always does whenever this particular subject comes up.  Lois herself is barely holding back a laugh.  Jon’s wrinkling his nose, looking thoroughly embarrassed by his parents.

“Well, I am,” she says, barely keeping herself composed.

“No, I mean—” Danny begins.

“You mean people say that I’m dating Superman and married to Clark?”  Lois glances at Clark, who is now hiding his face in his hands.  “Someone forgot to check for cameras after rescuing me a few years back, and we got caught kissing on film.  It was let people think Superman is a homewrecker or let them think I’m in a polyamorous relationship with my husband and his alter ego.”  

“That’s… really weird.”  Danny is giving her the kind of judgmental look only teenagers can give.  

Lois does laugh at that.  “It is, a bit.  But it helps protect Clark’s secret identity, so I don’t mind.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Clark finally says.  “There were other ways to handle that situation; she just thinks this is funny.”

“Even your parents think it’s funny,” Lois says.  Clark just sighs, faux-aggrieved.  

“It’s not even the weirdest thing on the internet about Superman,” Danny says.  “It’s just the weirdest thing everyone agrees is true.”

“Please do not tell me what else you’ve found,” Clark says.  

“You can tell me,” Lois says.  “We can just make Clark leave for a bit.”  Reading conspiracy theories about Superman is her guilty pleasure, though if anyone asks, she does it to keep tabs on anyone who might have a viable way of hurting him.  

Danny just laughs, and something in Lois’s chest seizes up.  Is this the first time she’s heard him laugh since he came back?  She thinks it might be.

She doesn’t want to call attention to it; like as not, that would just make him pull away again.  Instead she says, “Superman doesn’t even get the best conspiracy theories.  Those are all Batman.”  That’s because Bruce purposefully cultivates them, of course, but that’s not important.

“Which one is he, again?” Danny asks.  

It’s not that Lois ever forgets that Danny has spent most of his life in another dimension.  But little offhand comments like that… they really drive it home.  There are plenty of superheroes, even Justice League members, that most of the general public has never heard of— but Batman is not one of them.

She's saved from answering by Clark.

"You'll meet him eventually," Clark says.  "He's a good friend of mine.  And Jon and Kon are close to his two youngest sons, Robin and Red Robin."

Danny nods thoughtfully.  "Right.  I think Red Robin's in the group chat Kon added me to."

Lois reminds herself to thank Kon next time she sees him.  He and Danny seem to have connected, and Kon seems to have made it his personal mission to keep Danny from slipping too far into one of his funks again.

"Speaking of Kon," Clark begins.  "Ma and Pa want to know when we'll be able to make it to Smallville to visit."

They've been trying not to overwhelm Danny by introducing him to too many new people at once, but maybe that was the wrong choice.  Maybe they should be pushing him to get out more, to connect with this dimension.  Besides, Kon spends most of his time in Smallville, and they already know that he and Danny get along.

Lois re-evaluates the article she’s been working on.  Perry would probably appreciate it sooner rather than later, but if she turns in a smaller article this week, she can probably swing a weekend off.  If not, she can always work on it from Kansas.

“This weekend should work,” Lois says.  “If that’s alright with you, Danny.”

Danny looks a little surprised to be consulted.  “I— yeah, that works.  Not like I have anywhere else to be.”  He laughs a little, but the joke falls flat, and Lois resolves to double down on helping Danny connect with more people here in this dimension.

[sunlightmurdock]

My Future in You | 2.6 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: Bradley’s twenty-two years old and not where he’s supposed to be. Then, a hook up at a Halloween party changes his future even more than he could have imagined.

Warnings: accidental pregnancy, references to abortion in a few chapters, angst, will be fluff eventually, will be smut so 18+, enemies to lovers kinda thing, babies and fluff and more babies, bradley being a nervous first time daddy, wc: 3.8k

…

“This… doesn’t look right.” Bradley pulls back and rests his hands against his hips, staring at the car seat with an unimpressed gaze frown.

“Sure it does.” You answer, peering around him to examine the situation in front of you. The straps are secure at the top of his chest, his plush cheek resting against the padded restraints.

“I don’t think so. He doesn’t look comfortable.” Bradley answers you with a shake of his head. This is his second practice of the day. He doesn’t want Tom to be in the car seat too long, but he knows that his most significant job in all of this is getting the two of you home safe.

He leans forwards and begins to fiddle with the straps again. Your newborn doesn’t seem fussed by his neurotic, worried dad anyways. Bradley hums. “Don’t worry, buddy, we’ll figure it out.”

“The Bradshaws! — How are we this morning?”

This, Thomas is fussed by. Over the last six days, the first six of his life, you’ve figured that your son has some pretty sharp reflexes. Even just blowing on his cheek makes him flinch. He jumps, arms and legs tensing at once, his still unfocused eyes blowing wide open as the doctor strolls into the room.

His lip begins to wobble and his nose scrunches up tight, his hands trembling under the confines of his mittens. You nudge Bradley out of the way and unclasp the straps right as Thomas begins to cry.

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to spook this little sweetheart.” The doctor is smiling and reaching out to tickle the infant’s back and on your end, everything is forgiven. Bradley, however, glares at her as he reaches his son.

You hadn’t been expecting the same guy who once jumped off of the roof of a neighbouring frat house and into their pool to be such a nervous nelly when it came to parenthood. Especially not the same guy who told you he wanted no part in any of this.

You roll your eyes, rocking softly, shushing the baby. These past six days have taught you a lot of things. That the birthmark on the bottom of Thomas’ back is kind of the shape of Italy. That even though he can’t see much yet, he likes to look around while he’s being fed. That Bradley is not fast enough at changing diapers yet to avoid getting peed on.

That somehow, you and Bradley might have just created the most perfect little boy in the entire world. With his thatches of brown hair and his tiny fingers and toes, his sloped nose and poured lips. Those funny, jumpy reflexes.

“I’m just here to do some tests, see if we can get you guys home today.” She tells you with a bright smile. From the way that your face changes, she can tell that this is the news that you’ve been waiting for. Six days of barely walking, hearing other people’s babies screaming — you’ve been ready to go home for a while.

“Today? — Nobody said today. They said tomorrow.” Bradley interjects loudly. You scowl across at him and he shuts up, but the nervous way he fidgets on his feet tells you everything you need to know.

“I know, I know. But he’s doing just fine so far, and I’m sure you two are eager to sleep in your own beds again.” The doctor coos softly, learning from her initial mistake as she takes the baby from your arms. She follows your pattern of soothing and rocking and Thomas seems to consider quietening down.

Bradley pushes his hands into the pockets of his sweat shorts and just leans back against the end of the hospital bed. He’s so focused on watching this stranger with your baby that he doesn’t even hear you move until you’re pressing in against his side.

“You’re doing fine.” You promise him, stretching your open palm against the fabric of his black t-shirt, stretching your neck to look at him. “Stop stressing.”

He doesn’t say anything, and that worried frown on his face doesn’t soften either. Bradley swallows, brushes a hand over his upper lip and reaches out for you. You close

Your eyes as he secures an arm around your waist and tugs you closer, leaning down and resting his mouth against the top of your head.

He inhales deeply, breathing in the scent of unfamiliar shampoo and hospital borrowed soap.

“She called you a Bradshaw, you know.” He whispers finally, just before he straightens back up. You scoff, jabbing the tip of your index finger into his side.

“Don’t get any ideas, Pops. It’s bad enough you talked me into letting Tommy take your name.” You’re joking, of course. The amusement in your voice makes his chest feel that little bit less tight. You’ll say yes, one day. He’ll make sure it’s special and you’re not giving birth next time, and you’ll say yes.

He pinches your side playfully and tugs you closer again. “Pops? — I thought we agreed on you calling me—“

He grunts as you jerk your elbow back into his stomach, just enough to make him jolt but not enough to actually hurt the idiot you’ve come to be so fond of. There it is, he grins behind you, his chest rumbling with a soft chuckle.

Minutes later, the doctor turns around to you and gives you the go-ahead. Suddenly, the little boy in the roomy onesie is all yours, and yours alone. Well, not that suddenly, there’s paperwork first. But sudden feels the only appropriate word when you’re walking out of the hospital, with no one to guide you.

Bradley’s knuckles are white around the handle of the car seat in his right hand, a slightly softer approach to the way that he’s holding your hand in his left.

“You’re sure you can walk? — They said you could have a chair, if you want a chair.” He checks, for the second time since you stepped out of the elevator.

“I’m fine.” You give his hand a soft squeeze and groan softly as you step out into the mid-summer suffocation of the Florida heat. “Now walk with purpose. It’s too hot for this.”

Settled into the backseat beside Thomas, sleeping in his car seat, you catch Bradley frowning worriedly back at the both of you before he turns the key in the ignition.

The drive home is slow, and uneventful. The baby is asleep. Bradley’s eyes are trained seriously on the road, his hands holding a steady ten and two position on the wheel. You don’t dare suggest that he turns on the radio.

There were plenty of things that you had prepared yourself for when you had decided to have your baby. Your body changing, fine. Your career plans changing, okay. The hormones and the responsibilities and the tiny human who would depend on you for probably the rest of your life, sure.

Some things about such a drastic lifestyle change simply cannot be planned for.

Nine hours ago, you brought your son home from the hospital. This is something that you would never admit out loud, but in those last few days of your pregnancy, the concern had flooded your mind that maybe your feelings for Bradley were purely hormonal. You were carrying his child, it makes sense that your body would want him around. It was the after that had concerned you.

But, you had watched today as Bradley had carried the car seat in one hand and secured you by his side with the other. He had buckled your son into the car, and he had driven home under the speed limit the entire way.

You exhale softly as you step out of the shower. That’s growing easier now, six days later, but your body is far from healed. Your legs still tremble when you try to stand too long, and your back aches in a way you’re starting to worry might be permanent.

It’s quiet in your apartment now. You listen out as you towel dry your body, trying to find the pitch of a sports narrator or some soft music — anything. It’s almost dead silent.

You wriggle into your pyjamas and wrap your wet hair, walking slow out of the bathroom and down the hall. You’re barely dry, your warm feet padding along the carpet, wrinkled fingers pushing open the door to the bedroom.

One of the things that none of the articles you had read seemed to mention, is what to do the first time that you see the father of your child at home with your baby.

Bradley’s sitting up against the pillows with Thomas nestled against his chest. His hand eclipses the infant’s torso as he pats his back softly. Thomas’ cheek is resting against Bradley’s pectoral, you can’t see from where you are but instinct and your son’s uncharacteristic stillness tells you that he’s sleeping.

Bradley’s singing. He’s patting the baby’s back gently and he’s singing softly, trying hard to push the usually deep rumble of his voice into lullaby territory.

Your mouth falls slack, cold feet becoming still against the soft floor. This tiny first apartment and its discernible wooden doors that creak at every opportunity give you away and he stops just as quickly as he is perceived.

His gaze flickers up and his lips twist softly into a small smile. You watch him take account of your matching maternity pyjamas which threaten to be too big without the stretch of your bump. Amusement floods the hint of the smile on his lips — he loves to laugh at these pyjamas.

His hand stills against Thomas’ back, those glittery brown eyes flicker up to study the look on your face.

“Hey, babe,” He hums, keeping his voice low so that he doesn’t startle the baby. “How was your shower?”

“I didn’t think I would miss our shitty water pressure, but I’m just so glad we’re not at the hospital anymore.” You pad across the carpet towards him and crawl into bed, pulling back the sheets and draping yourself across Bradley’s brawny thighs.

He looks down at you and secures the infant close to his chest, freeing one hand to brush tenderly across your cheek.

“What was that song were you singing him?” You ask. The ceiling fan whirs above you like a thrumming, excessively loud lullaby. The warmth of his thigh props up your cheek.

There’s something about it all that feels too much like a dream. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep. The NICU isn’t exactly a luxury retreat, despite its price point. Tonight is your first night home from the hospital. Your son is six days old and yesterday, he officially crossed the threshold into five pound territory. Tonight, he’s huddled against Bradley’s bare chest, wearing a diaper that had seemed too tiny for an actual human to wear and zipped into a onesie printed with little ducks on it. Geese, maybe, actually.

You lift your hand and reach out, watching your fingertip follow the soft cotton covering those wrinkled lines on the sole of Thomas’ foot that you’ve come to be so familiar with already.

The infant curls his toes and unclenches them again, scrunching his knees. Bradley watches, lips twisted into a smile that he couldn’t fight back if he tried.

There’s something about the steady, heavy thrum of Bradley’s heartbeat that puts the kid right to sleep. The warm bath and the ounce of milk that came before he was set on his dad’s stomach may have helped too. Bradley’s hand cups the back of Thomas’ neck, keeping the sleeping baby steady.

“Wildflowers by, uh— Tom Petty, I think?” Bradley shrugs. In truth, he knows the song inside and out — it was the first song he learned to play on piano. He’s used to playing that down. Girls find guitars hot, not his years of classical piano lessons.

You smile, lifting your head and pressing a gentle kiss to the sole of the baby’s foot, soft blue cottons

against your lips. Then, you lower your mouth and press it softly to Bradley’s stomach. Just once, before you drop your head back down and set it against his thigh.

“He’s so good, and I’m still exhausted.” You murmur, exhaling deeply. Behind heavy lids, you make a mental note to look into which ingredient in the smell of baby soap acts as such a good sleeping agent.

“You should sleep. He’ll be up again in a couple of hours.” Bradley reminds you, stroking damp hair back off of your forehead. Closing your eyes, you nod with him, but make no effort to move. He smiles. “Come on, I don’t need to sing the both of you to sleep, do I?”

You huff a soft sound of amusement, giving a small shake of your head. “Not tonight, Pops. Put him to bed, let’s get some sleep.”

Bradley chuckles, carefully shifting your son off of his stomach and instead laying him across his thighs as you sit up.

“Mom and Dad… isn’t that crazy?” He muses, stroking his thumb across the soft hair on the infant’s head. Thomas is still so small that Bradley’s palm makes him look even tinier. You lean into your boyfriend’s shoulder and stroke the baby’s cheek.

“I know.” You agree quietly.

Big, round cheeks and pursed lips, dark eyelashes and a soft little nose. His tiny hands balled into fists, his knees curled up to his middle. Blue clouds adorning his onesie. Half you, and half Bradley.

“Alright, we’ll see you in a couple hours, little man. Yell if you need something.” Bradley half jokes as he pushes himself up from the bed and turns to set the baby into the bassinet. With the lung capacity he has already impressed you with, you know that he’ll have no issues letting you know if he wants something.

He crawls back into bed beside you and flicks the beside lamp off, pulling the covers up around the two of you. Readily, you press yourself close to him and close your eyes. He smells like baby soap.

“Are you still hurting anywhere?” Bradley’s voice lowers to a whisper now, his breath fanning across the nape of your neck as he leans his head into the crook of your shoulder and cautiously rests a hand against your hip. Into the dark, your mouth twitches at a smile.

Your hips feel both squished and torn apart at the same time. Your back feels like it might never feel quite right ever again. But even with him a cautious distance from you, you can feel the perpetual warmth from his body.

“Everywhere. But I still want you to hold me.”

Slowly, he slides an arm under you and another over you. Draping his body around yours, he pulls you close and suddenly you get whatever it is that sends Thomas off to sleep so easily. The faint musky smell of his fading cologne. The steady, heavy thrum of his heartbeat. The long, deep pattern of his breathing.

Just when you think he has beat you to it, he reminds you that he’s still awake. A soft, chaste kiss presses to your throat, his voice low as he mumbles, “I love you.”

As much as Thomas is a good baby; he’s still a baby. A small one at that, with plenty of growing to do. Even now, he just about finishes an ounce of milk at a time — half of the time. That means a lot of wake ups. A lot of diaper changes with your eyes half open.

The first four days of parenthood pass you by before you’ve really come to terms with the reality of it all. Constant feeds through the night, surviving off of instant noodles and pizza — all of this doesn’t feel too far of a stretch from your recent college days.

But it’s harder now. The responsibilities are never ending. It’s hard to remain rational about any of it.

“If you could breastfeed, would you do it?”

From the other end of the couch, Bradley seems to startle awake. Brows drawing together in confusion, he stares across your dimly lit living room at you, then takes a second to look around him.

You’re at the end of the movie now, so he doesn’t have a clue how long he has been sleeping. Stretching his legs out, he sighs softly, “Yeah. I guess so.”

Your mouth twitches at the fact that he doesn’t even ask you why. He blinks softly and brings both hands up to rub at his eyes tiredly.

“What time is it?”

“Two, maybe.” You shrug, watching Thomas’ eyelids grow heavy. His hands remain balled and tucked in against his chest. He has spent these past four days stretching out occasionally, scrunching himself back into a tight ball frequently.

“No fucking way did I just sleep for four hours. The movie’s still playing.” Bradley protests, awkwardly fumbling to push himself upright and puckering his mouth into a deep frown. You just shrug across at him once more.

“I put the sequel on after you fell asleep.”

He hadn’t ever thought he would be able to have a regular conversation with a woman who had her breast out in front of him, but here he is. It doesn’t even cross his mind to check you out. The only thing he’s thinking about is the fact you’re running on maybe an hour of uninterrupted sleep and all you had wanted was to watch your movie with him. And he had fallen asleep.

He fumbles around, checking his pockets for his phone, finding it instead resting between his jaw and shoulder. You close your eyes for a moment as he checks the time. In the split second that your eyes are shut, Thomas makes a spluttering sound.

As quickly as you can lift and turn him, the has already spit the last mouthful of milk back against your skin and all down his chin.

“Oh, Tommy…” You groan, adjusting the strap of your nursing bra with one hand as you support him with the other.

“Here, I’ll take him.” Bradley offers, pushing himself up and starting to scoot towards you.

“We’re fine.” Maybe it comes out a little bit harsh, maybe your tone is a little colder than normal. Bradley frowns at you, sitting still at the opposite end of the sectional. “Just go back to sleep.”

“Hey, I didn’t mean to—“

“I know you didn’t.” You’re just doubling down at this point as you wipe at Thomas’ mouth with a muslin cloth. Bradley’s brows draw together a bit.

“So why are you mad at me? — Just let me help you.” He pushes forwards again and reaches for your son.

“I said we’re fine!” You bite back. The baby flinches and quickly starts to scream. You slam your eyes shut, darkness behind your lids and a dull ache drilling from your temples to the core of your brain.

Opposite you, Bradley sighs, dropping his head forward into his hands. You’re both silent. The sequel plays on. The baby keeps on screaming. Neither one of you look at each other.

This is what all new parents go through, you know that. It doesn’t make it any less sore in the moment.

“What should I do?” Bradley asks finally, pushing up from the sofa and squeezing against your side, wrapping an arm around your aching shoulders. It’s not worth dragging your eyes open for.

“Never get me pregnant again, for starters.” You mutter half-jokingly. Bradley chuckles at your side and turns his head to kiss at those sore temples, like he can feel where it hurts. Maybe those dad-senses are sharper than you give him credit for.

“Not even once more? — But look how cute the first one wa—“ He’s only joking of course, but he still has the good sense to shut up when you turn your head and glare at him. He grins, and he looks just like he did the first time you were stupid enough to melt for that pretty look.

“You hungry?” Bradley asks. He read somewhere that breastfeeding can cause stronger appetites.

“Yeah.”

“Dad’s got it. We’ll be right back.” Bradley promises you, dipping forwards and kissing your temple once more, stealing the baby in one fell swoop. “Come on, buddy.”

Bradley pads into the kitchen barefoot, bouncing the baby in his arms and you let your eyes fall shut once more. You’re only two weeks in. They don’t start sleeping through the night for another couple months at least — sometimes years. You don’t know how you could do another couple years of being this delirious.

Closing your eyes, it’s easy enough to imagine that you’re not here. That you’re still in school, or still in your parents’ house. Somewhere safer, where you could hide from the limited responsibilities that you had back then. It would be so easy to drift off into a dream about life being that easy again.

Instead, the sofa dips at your side and your boys are back. Bradley announces himself by kissing your cheek softly and pressing a spoon into your hand.

“All we have is Ice-Cream.” He tells you, settling Thomas into the crook of his elbow and passing the tub of ice cream off to you. You blink at the vanilla flavoured frozen treat in front of you, then look up to stare at him. “I’ll go to the store tomorrow. We’ll both go. You can stay here and sleep in.”

You look away for just a second, digging the tip of your spoon into the ice cream, and hear him continue.

“We can get whatever we want, Mommy won’t be there to tell us no.”

Despite your best efforts, a smile itches its way across your face. You turn your head and attempt to force at a scowl. All five of Thomas’ right-hand fingers are wrapped around Bradley’s little finger, they both seem to be looking at you.

“I don’t care what you come home with as long as there’s more of this stuff in there somewhere.” You decide, slipping a spoonful into your mouth and savouring the flavour on your tongue. Bradley shifts, leaning his head against yours.

“Share.” He demands, leaving his mouth open. You snuff your nose at him as you dig another spoonful from the tub and shovel it into his mouth. “That’s so good.”

“Probably not what we should be eating. We aren’t setting a very good example.” You hum, ignoring your own advice and gulping down another spoonful, kicking your feet up onto the coffee table.

If only your mother could see you now. She would lose her marbles if she saw your approach to motherhood.

“Eh, this kid pees himself all day long. We’ll start being good examples for him later on.” Bradley shrugs, leaning his weight into you, turning his attention back to the tv. “So can you explain to me what I missed?”

…

Taglist: @chaoticweirdogeek @alanadetigy @itsmytimetoodream @oldnatgwenaccount @khaylin27 @bioodforbiood @luckyladycreator2 @mizzzpink @cherrycola27 @unordinare @heli991113 @ghxst-heart @momc95 @asteria33 @lilyevanswhore @diamond-3 @galaxy-moon @jostyriggslover96 @forgiveliv @shawnsblue @little-wiseone @lovemesomevesey @alm33 @averyhotchner @diorrfairy @thedroneranger @batdanceq @wkndwlff @himbos-on-ice @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @slutford @kmc1989 @swiftsgirlfriend

[fixfoxnox]

I Know You Didn't Take Requests But Just Curiosity... What Would Happen If Makarov Was Obsessed With A Nervous Russian Woman?

Kissing you (with your permission) for asking about Makarov I've been wanting to write with him so much since the newest trailer dropped AHHHH also I'm gonna take this as an x reader Makarov headcanon request if thats alright

Makarov Obsessed with Nervous Russian Fem! Reader

Warnings: Dub-con, loosely implied non-con, kidnapping, stalking, obsession, knife kink and blood kink, jealousy, murder

Makarov and reader meet before his time as an ultranationalist, when he's still at least a little good.

He's Spetsnaz and you're just a secretary trying to stay under the radar and make a living for yourself. Being around hungry men, men constantly away from their respective families or partners, never quite allows you to settle into peace.

You're one of the only women working on the base, and the men laugh when you jump at their sudden arrivals or hands on your shoulder. You don't find it funny, but they assure you that you have no reason to be nervous. You don't believe them, you're nervous all the time in a place like that.

There's one man who doesn't laugh at you. He's a captain and any time he makes you jump, he apologizes. He's kind and charming and, honestly, the only man on base you're able to find any sort of comfort in.

Makarov isn't sure what it is that starts his obsession with you. Perhaps its the amusement he feels when you stutter over yourself as you speak. Maybe its just that he enjoys having someone kind around. Maybe he just latched on to someone and you happened to be the unlucky victim.

Either way, it didn't matter. After a week of knowing you, Makarov is enamored. He's interested.

When Makarov is interested it means research. Research means watching you even when you think you're alone. Sneaking into your home or desk and snooping to understand more about you. He watches and learns all of your little quirks, everything that makes you tick. And Makarov is good at his job, so it's not surprising that you never realize.

Then the papers are sent. Makarov is discharged and the rumor floating around base is that it was an order by the UN after his cruel and inhumane treatment during war.

You don't believe its true, you don't believe Makarov is capable. Still, you're only a woman on a base surrounded by men, you can't voice your thoughts to anyone.

To you, Makarov dissapears. In reality, he's still around.

He joins the ultranationalists and stops trying to hide who he really is. With them, he's appreciated. His bloodlust is praised. He thrives under the guiding hand of Imran Zhakaev.

As he thrives, he doesn't forget you. He watches from the shadows, keeping tabs on your every move as he works himself up the totem pole of Ultranationalists. He keeps you as close as he can without you ever knowing.

And, in the shadows, he pushes and prods reader exactly how he wants her. He keeps men away from you, many of them never showing for plans you made. He encourages activities and learning about certain topics with hidden items for you to find.

And, when Makarov is made Zhakaev's second (only behind his son) and given more control and power, he takes no time in claiming his obsession.

He wouldn't be gentle about it. You'd been out of his grasp for far too long and now he had you here? Well the idea of bruises or bleeding skin only lit him up with excitement.

Now he isn't violent when he kidnaps you. Only disciplinary, as he says. You struggle and he corrects that action. And, as he settles you in to the base he's been staying at, you understand this is your new future.

Makarov is obsessed with you, he wants to own you, he wants every piece of you to be his. And that desire involves you giving yourself to him, giving in to his own wicked desires and playing along.

Maybe you resist at first, but at the end of the day you're a nervous person and you can do nothing but cower behind him. You're in deep, a madman is obsessed with you, and you're trapped behind enemy lines. What choice do you have but to give in and become Makarov's play thing.

Now, once you do give in, Makarov treats you like a queen. You are his after all, and what belongs to him gets taken care of.

I think Makarov is the type to shower his partner in gifts. Jewelry and silk. Anything that he would be able to physically see on his partner like a mark of his ownership over them.

He's an overprotective and jealous man. God help any ultranationalist who tries to flirt with you or insult you. After Makarov is done dealing with them in the only way he knows how, his ire often falls to you.

He takes his anger out in the bedroom in those moments. Making you beg and declare his ownership over you repeatedly.

Now, this doesn't define your more intimate moments with him. As much as Makarov loves having control, he's more than willing to let you take over and do what you will to him until he orders you to stop. He likes to let his inhibitions go under your touch.

Makarov likes to play domesticity. He likes it when you make him breakfast and see him off for the day with a kiss to his lips. He likes to have you waiting in the room for him, ready to cater to his needs. He likes playing house, pretending to be the perfect husband of a normal family.

He doesn't succeed most of the time. Meetings upon meetings often bleed into the sanctuary he wants with you and, more often then not, you find Makarov entering the room speaking in a quiet and clipped voice with other men, future plans for the Ultranationalists being discussed between them.

And finally, I think Makarov enjoys showing you off, to an extent. He's obsessed with you and he has you, of course he wants everyone to know it. Of course he wants to show you off.

But, at the same time, Makarov hates the ideas of others looking at you, of anyone else even possibly thinking that they could hold you and have you like he did

This often results in meetings or casual sit downs where you're pulled onto his lap or tucked against his side. You keep your eyes down and Makarov watches like a shark, ready to attack anyone who would so much as look at you.

Also knives in the bedroom and you should probably get used to blood, because you'll be helping clean it off of him most days, whether that's running him a bath and scrubbing it from his skin, or joining him in a shower for a much more intimate approach to ridding him of the blood.

[gaelic-holiday]

New fic idea: Merlin tells everyone he has magic right from the start, but no one believes him.

Arthur: How did you manage to bring me rolls that are still warm, Merlin?

Merlin: Magic, sire. (with a teasing grin)

Arthur: Haha, very funny, Merlin

Gwen: How did the poultice you gave me heal my father?

Merlin: Magic.

Gwen: You can tell me me the truth, Merlin. I know you're not foolish enough to use magic in Camelot.

Merlin: I really, really am.

Gwain: How do you keep not dying when we run into bandits?

Merlin: I use my magic to protect myself.

Gwaine: Lol, nice one, Merlin.

Leon: Hey Merlin, why are you reading from a book that looks like a book of sorcery?

Merlin: Oh, because I have magic and am studying spells so I can use it better.

Leon, laughing: If you say so, Merlin.

Percival: Hey Merlin, how do you get the fire started so quickly?

Merlin: Magic. Forbearn is a really easy spell.

Percival, laughing: Alright, fine. Keep your secrets, 'oh mystical sorcerer'.

Elyan: And where do you keep disappearing to, Merlin?

Merlin: Oh, just saving Arthur from whatever assasin or magical threat crops up this week!

Elyan, playing along: Oh really? And which was it when you missed going to the tavern with us?

Merlin, completely serious: Morgause sent a swarm of enchanted birds to try and rip out Arthur's heart.

Elyan: You have a strange sense of humour, Merlin.

Uther: And how, precisely, did you survive the encounter you've just described?

Merlin: I used magic.

Uther:...I have no idea why my son seems to like you so much. You're an idiot.

Arthur: Hey, he's my idiot. And my idiot is just the kind of person to joke about having magic to the king of Camelot.

Merlin: Why do you assume I'm joking?

Arthur: See what I mean?

Lancelot, the only person besides Gaiuss that actually knows about Merlin's magic: How on earth do you keep that a secret?

Merlin: I don't. I use magic in front of literally everyone, and no one believes me.

Lancelot: You're joking.

Merlin: I literally use magic to fill Arthur's tub in front of him every day, and he assumes I'm joking about having it.

Gaius, very distressed: Merlin, you really should be more careful with your magic.

Merlin, calls Arthur over: watch this trick!

Merlin, summons a glowing, clearly magic butterfly in front of Arthur: Isn't magic neat?

Arthur, patting Merlin on the shoulder: Like you could ever learn magic, Merlin. Make sure you polish my armor again, will you?

Merlin: Why, do you intend to use it as a mirror?

Arthur: *flips Merlin off and walks away*

Merlin: See Gaius? Perfectly safe.

Gaius:...

Merlin: If it wasn't so convenient for me, I'd be very worried about how unobservant our future king is.

[crownofgildedlilies]

wishin' you were kind enough to be cruel about it -> cool about it [2]

in which: a son of Jupiter can't remember the life he lost to time and circumstance. or the daughter of mercury he lost, too.

pairing: jason grace x daughter of mercury!roman!reader

warnings: you guessed it! more angst and cursing!

word count: 6.4k

a/n: did not mean for it to be this long but, im obsessed.... no like u don't understand. so much to be said! inbox/comment to be added to the taglist!

one [two] three four

At least you had the comfort of preparing for war to distract you.

Armor polished to perfection, swords sharpened, denarii in your pocket to pay for passage to the Underworld, should you meet your end facing an endless army of monsters that couldn't die.

Really, how Roman of you to seek the blissful nothingness at the start of battle.

You knew the exact number, down to the minute, of how long it had been since you had last seen Jason. But if someone were to ask you how many days Percy, Frank, and Hazel had been off on their quest, you would have stared at them blankly.

And even as you readied for war, your eyes had a glossy look to them, pinned on a fixed point just above the horizon.

"Don't let the legionnaires see you like this," Dakota had murmured in your ear as he adjusted the straps of your armor. You knew he had a point, but hated him for saying it, anyways.

What did it matter? The legionnaires had already seen you in hysterics in the camp center, tearing through the place in search of Jason. They wouldn't be surprised to see you were still not right, even with the promise of military glory.

But it didn’t change the fact that he had a point.

You were a centurion for a reason, and not just because the great Jason Grace followed you like a shadow. You needed to be strong and brave and ruthless, because that was what a Roman leader should be.

And the reason you became a centurion was apparent the moment you stepped onto the battlefield, New Rome at your back and your brothers-in-arms at your side.

See, the giants hadn't taken into account how much anger and fear you had bottled up inside you, uncorked with the first swing of your sword and spilling out over their armies.

Violence untethered, one of the now-retired centurions from the First Cohort had once described the way you fought. Brutal. Efficient. Roman.

And if you had been untethered before, when you still had Jason at your side—

The casualties on the Roman side were few.

You had taken a couple of big hits, but you welcomed the pain. The first actual bite of something other than heartache felt almost like a relief, like a promise that you were not trapped in a body that could only grieve.

The rest of camp may have been rejuvenated by Percy's retrieval of hundreds of Imperial Gold weapons, but all you could do was grit your teeth and limp back into the city.

The cries of 'Praetor!' that echoed after you, announcing Percy as Camp Jupiter's second leader, felt like they were twisting a knife in a wound long infected and left to rot.

Jason was praetor. Jason.

You liked Percy, you really did. He was funny—or at least, you would have thought so, if you weren't constantly looking for the next excuse to leave camp and search for Jason—and kind. He had Roman bravery, if not a little rebellious, which the Mercury in your blood seemed to enjoy.

Percy might have even been your friend, in another life. One when you had met him with your hand tucked in Jason’s, the son of Jupiter the levelheaded side to your double edged sword.

And at least you trusted Percy a whole lot more than Octavian.

"These... Greeks," Octavian hissed the word, lips curling in distaste. The day after the battle, still bruised and wounds leaking blood, you found yourself in the forum, dressed in a toga wrapped over your armor. You still couldn’t put too much weight on your ankle, and the shoulder on your shield arm was swollen. "You're an even bigger fool than I thought if you trust them."

You rolled your eyes, but bit down the dramatic gag. If Jason had been there, he would have been very pointedly ignoring you—because you had been guilty on more than one occasion of making more and more ridiculous faces in an attempt to make him laugh.

And after the third time you had gotten him to break his stony facade, Jason had implemented a 'no looking at you during meetings' rule, which he more or less succeeded in executing.

Or less, being the key words.

"Talking about fools," You murmured, and from beside you, Dakota jammed his elbow into your side so harshly, you almost yelped. In his defense, you hadn’t told him about the Cyclops that had probably broken your ribs, but you wished he hadn't hit you where you were so sore.

"Look, they're my friends up there." Percy gestured widely towards the open air roof as he spoke. You found yourself studying the skies, as if the flying Greek trireme Percy claimed would be arriving might suddenly appear out of thin air. "I trust them, and you voted me praetor. Doesn't that count for something?"

"It's something, alright." Octavian scoffed. You rolled your eyes again, almost growing dizzy with the movement.

A bad habit during meetings, Centurion, Jason had chastised you, once, with a smile so warm it didn't feel like a punishment. The two of you had just left the forum, still wrapped in your togas, your hand curled around his forearm as he led you through New Rome and towards a bakery you favored.

Wouldn't happen if you let me challenge Octavian to combat, Praetor, you had fired back, and in a moment of weakness, pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw before darting off ahead of him, giddy.

Soldiers, not lovers, you had to remind yourself. No matter how much you wanted, you couldn't force Jason to be anything he wasn't ready to be—or maybe what he just wasn't.

Octavian's watery stare landed on you, snapping you back to the moment like a rubber band pulled taut.

"I can hardly imagine you support this, Centurion? With Jason Grace gone—"

"Do not," You snapped, breath coming out in short, labored spurts. Violence untethered, indeed. "Neither I nor you get to decide who is praetor, and the spot was open—"

Your voice cracked. It tasted like a lie. The spot wasn't open. It belonged to Jason, just as your heart and tears and smiles did.

"—and Percy Jackson was raised to the rank after receiving glory in battle." You recited. You hoped it didn't sound like you had practiced in the bathroom mirror that morning, trying to make it seem like you believed it, even if you had. "I seem to recall a certain Apollo legacy cowering beneath my shield during the second Cyclops onslaught, don't you, Augur?"

And maybe it was a low blow, calling a Roman's battle bravery into question, but Jason had always been your bridge to your self-control.

"I—no—it—!" Octavian stammered, flustered, and Percy laughed. Dakota and several of the other centurions Octavian hadn't managed to blackmail or brainwash to follow him pressed their palms over their mouths to suppress their own chuckles, and even Reyna was struggling to bite back a grin. "You think you'll still hold rank as centurion, come the next election?"

He was threatening you, you realized, and you would have hauled off and socked him in the mouth, consequences be damned, if a shadow hadn't crossed over Octavian's head, darkening the whole of the forum.

Twisting your gaze up, heart hammering, you found a flying Greek trireme.

Percy was right.

And maybe he had been right about something else, too. Something you hadn’t dared to consider.

While Percy was dropped at Camp Jupiter, Jason might have been carted off to Camp Half-Blood.

Mercury swiftness blessed you once more as you took off, darting out of the forum before Reyna could finish saying dismissed.

There wasn’t much that could have stopped you, not even the bitter cold of crashing through the middle of a Lar.

You didn’t even bother pausing to shout an apology to Cassius, glowing purple and claiming to curse your bloodline for such an insult.

If you have been able to breathe, you would have told him your bloodline already felt a little cursed.

There was shouting, but you barely could hear it over the buzzing in your mind. You felt like you were going to vibrate out of your skin, eyes squinted, head tilted up, and fighting against the sun for even a glimpse of your missing half.

“Helmet on, fall in line,” Dakota tugged your arm, pulling you back to his side. You felt a little, a lot, frantic—felt desperate—but Reyna was already struggling to get everyone to fall in line, and she had given you so much leeway in the past months, that you stepped beside your fellow Fifth Cohort centurion.

“I left my—“ Left my helmet behind, you would have said, but Dakota shoved the metal piece into your hands. With buzzing fingertips, you placed on your helmet, adjusted the straps of your armor that were already perfectly done up.

Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Seconds ticked by like hours, limbs swimming through thick air like you were in a dream. From your spot nestled between Dakota and Paulette from Fourth Cohort, tucked under the hull of the flying trireme, standing behind Percy and Reyna, you couldn't see any of the ship's occupants.

But then they dropped a rope ladder, and your heart stuttered in your chest. Nails bit into your palms, your own fingers the culprit, and you forced yourself to stretch out your hands in an attempt to keep the bleeding to a minimum.

Jason, please, Jason, I need you, oh, gods, please—

It was like a mantra, repeating on a loop in your head. Tears stung at your eyes, overwhelmed by just the sheer possibility that your golden haired love could be so, so close to returning to you.

The first body began to climb down the ladder. A girl, with yellow hair dragged into a ponytail. In front of you, somehow, you heard Percy inhale sharply and you realized it must have been Annabeth.

The only person he remembered from his past life, until he had drank the gorgon's blood and gotten his memories restored. Unease trickled through you. There wouldn't be such a quick fix for Jason.

A second girl descended the ladder after Annabeth, with choppy brown hair, baggy clothes, and a wicked dagger at her hip.

You started to doubt Percy's theory. Maybe Jason hadn't been taken by Juno or Hera or whichever deity you felt like blaming. Maybe he was stuck somewhere else, alone, and hurting, and you were—

A purple shirt appeared over the side of the ship, atop a set of broad shoulders you could have recognized blind.

Jason.

Your Jason.

Home, to you, at last.

A gasp shuddered through you as he started to climb down the rope ladder and into New Rome. You started to step forward, but Roman training froze you to your spot as Reyna pinned you with a look that screamed 'don't break rank, not in front of Octavian,' which would never be enough to keep you from reaching Jason.

But still, you stalled.

It didn't mean you stopped staring, your eyes tracing his form from head to toe, trying to see what changed about him, what was still the same.

The scar on his lip, the sky blue eyes, the golden rays of his hair. It was exactly as you remembered, except for the hair, which had grown out just slightly. You liked it better, but you would never tell him. You knew how much he liked to keep it short, in regulation.

Look at me, please, you begged him in your mind, because you were forbidden to say the words. Another boy scaled down the rope ladder, but you paid him no attention. Jason, Jason, Jason.

It was dizzying. In all the years you had loved him, never had it felt so much like a compactor was pressing in on your chest.

Their group approached, four rag-tag demigods, three Greeks and a Roman. It sounded like the set-up to one of the awful jokes you used to tell Jason when you were stationed on guard duty together, just to pass the time and see him shake his head with a smile.

Reyna stood tall before you, strong and powerful and part of you wanted to push her to the side and race into the arms of your lost soldier.

Why hadn't he looked at you yet?

This was it, the moment you had been dying for, for months. When Jason finally came back to you, his eyes locking with yours, rules and regulations tossed aside as he wrapped you in his arms so tight your toes left the ground and his mouth slotted over yours, a kiss nearly a decade in the making.

Fear and emotion clogged your throat, and you had trouble swallowing around it. Didn't he see you? He knew you always stood between Dakota and Paulette, just to the right of the second praetor—his rank, formerly, now given to Percy Jackson.

But, there—his blue eyes scanned the row of centurions lined behind Reyna and Percy, starting with the First Cohort and making his way to you. Oh, how you were going to scream and cry and hold him later, all as punishment for making you worry—

Jason's eyes passed over you, carrying on towards Dakota like you were nothing more than another face in the crowd.

Fear and routine and fear of your routine were the only things stopping you from tearing off your helmet and slamming it into his chest, demanding to know who the hell he thought he was, scaring you so thoroughly for months and then acting like he didn’t know you.

But then you remembered Percy, and how he hadn’t been able to remember anything.

That couldn’t be right, no, Jason loved you. And maybe it wasn’t in the way you loved him, but hadn’t Hadlee, the daughter of Venus, gone on and on the other night about different types of love? You knew with a certainty you had never felt before that Jason loved you, even if it was only in the sense of friends.

The way fellow soldiers would die and bleed and get torn to shreds for each other.

You had gotten upset when he asked what else was there for the two of you to be. Now, you would trade every scrap of pleasure and freedom for the chance to be only soldiers with Jason Grace for the rest of time.

You pressed your arm tight against your side, elbow pointed in and poking at the unhealed, unchecked injury from the Cyclops. At first, you had refused to go to the medics because they were still all cheering for Percy to take place at praetor.

Then the pain just became a good enough distraction from losing Jason, even if it didn't really work.

These thoughts and more swirled in your mind as Jason introduced himself and the Greeks he had arrived with. Annabeth, Piper, Leo, Coach Hedge. The names meant nothing to you, but still you memorized them, because they were important to Jason.

He and Annabeth took turns explaining the quest they were on. You only understood half of what they were talking about, because every time someone other than Jason even attempted to speak, their voice was drowned out by the sound of your blood rushing in your ears.

Gaea is rising. Giants trying to wake the earth mother. Need to go to the Ancient Lands to stop them.

You gathered enough to know that whatever was happening was bad. They needed Jason, your Jason, and the fate of the world was more important than the heartbeat pulsing in the tips of your fingers.

Wasn't it?

Miles and miles away, maybe already in the Ancient Lands, you heard Reyna's voice cut through the static.

Let's discuss over a meal, she had said, your stare watching the relief wash over Jason's face. You were certain no one but yourself noticed the minute reaction on his behalf. At least, you had hoped. We reconvene in the city proper for a lunch. Centurions, dismissed.

There it was, that permission you had been waiting for.

Your helmet was torn from your head before Dakota even had time to slouch, shoulders dropping from the stiff way he held them while in formation.

It clattered to the ground beneath you, and you might have even stubbed your toe on it as you stepped forward, desperate for proof that you weren't imagining things. Your soldier was home, gods praise, he was home and within arms reach.

The rank of centurions behind you remained still, anticipating the long awaited and bitterly fought for reunion between two of New Rome's finest, the two soldiers that rarely ever separated, but spent six and a half months apart.

You surged forward. Jason stayed still. You understood what was happening, but you wanted to pretend for a moment longer.

"Hey, soldier," You breathed, voice tight and eyes burning. You clenched your hands into fists, then splayed your fingers wide, stretching, desperate to reach out and touch.

But you were on very uncertain ground. You had to wait for him to make the first move, even if it killed you.

"If the legion weren't here, I'd kick your ass for making me cry." You settled on saying, knowing that he would understand just how much you missed him.

Once, during a particularly violent round of training, Jason had caught the underside of your jaw with the blunt end of his lance. Nothing had broken, which considering Jason's strength, had been both a shock and a blessing, but you hadn't been able to control the tears that sprung to your eyes and raced down your cheeks in pain.

I did this to you, he had lamented, torn between anger at himself and grief for having hurt you. His aching in his words had been nearly enough to get you to resent yourself for feeling pain. I should have been more careful. Next time, I will.

His hands had been cradling your face, turning in it ever so gently to the side to inspect the bruise already forming on your jaw. His touch on your skin had felt like too much, but now you were realizing it had never been enough.

Next time, I'll be faster, you had promised hooking your leg around the back of his and shoving into his chest, sending him sprawling backwards and landing square on his ass in a move that never would have been possible if he hadn't been distracted by your tears at his hand.

You had barely cried then. What would he say, now, learning of the hysterics you had been reduced to?

“Er, do I know you?” Jason asked, stammering, flush coating pale cheeks you could have drawn from memory.

The simple question felt like being dunked in an ice bath, then held under while your lungs filled with water. It had to be some cruel joke, some wicked nightmare you would surely wake from any minute.

Know you? Did Jason Grace know you?

The question was almost unnecessary. Laughable, even. Seven months earlier, if someone had asked that question, you would have cracked a grin. Jason would have been by your side, naturally, and been offended by the insinuation that he didn't.

And then he would have proceeded to list off all of your favorite things, in alphabetical order, organized by category.

The idea was laughable. He knew you. He had to know you.

“Jase?” It was pathetic, really, that that was all you could muster. A breathy, pained whisper of the nickname you’d given him when he was being stubborn about taking care of himself and you poked out your bottom lip to try and convince him to rest.

Most times, it worked.

Now it just hurt.

“Sorry,” He shook his head, darting a glance to the curly haired Latino boy wincing at his side, your stomach dropping to somewhere around Pluto’s palace. “I don’t remember, well, anything, really.”

How foolish had you been? Percy had remembered Annabeth, sure, but Annabeth was his girlfriend. What were you to Jason?

Just another soldier, like he had claimed the day he went missing.

Just another soldier. Only ever soldiers.

And the worst part was he looked genuinely apologetic. You wished he could have scoffed and waved you off, like some prissy, no-good asshole that turned up his nose simply because he was the savior of the world and had earned so much battlefield glory he practically reeked of it.

But that wasn't like Jason. No, not only did the jerk have to be the strongest, most strategic soldier you had ever had the pleasure of fighting alongside, he was also one of the nicest.

Holding open doors, comforting the new, young, arrivals, braiding your hair for you to keep it out of your face that one time the stomach bug had torn its way through the Fifth Cohort. You had spent thirty-six straight hours bent over a toilet, and Jason had been there through all of it.

I don't remember, well, anything, really.

But you had never just been anything to Jason. Sometimes, he looked at you and you could almost convince yourself that you were his everything.

Dakota, of all people, a little hopped up on kool-aid, came to your rescue. Knotting his red-stained fist in the back of your toga, he tugged you back into the line of centurions, using his body to block Jason from your line of sight.

And you would have expressed your thanks, if you had been able to express anything beyond total heartache.

“No one would blame you if you snuck out,” Dakota lowered his voice, ducked his head close to your ear, and that snapped you out of your stupor.

“And leave my legion?” You glared sharply at him, glad for an excuse to funnel out some of your anger, though you felt a little bad that Dakota had been your punching bag the last six months. Really, you owed him. “I don’t think so. I’m fine. Just… shocked. I’m good.”

Dakota winced. Usually, you were ace at lying.

Who tied Octavian’s shoelaces together?

Not me, you’d dutifully shake your head.

Who broke curfew and snuck into the city to retrieve little Julia’s stuffed teddy from Octavian’s sacrifice pile?

I’d never, you’d claim, aghast.

Who’s head over fucking heels, dizzyingly in love with Jason Grace?

Not my type, you’d hold a hand over your heart, scouts honor.

But a simple I’m fine?

Even Frank Zhang couldn’t pretend to not know you were lying through your clenched teeth, and he pretended like he had never found you sobbing outside bunkhouse after curfew one night, a few days following his arrival at camp.

How had Jason forgotten you? It didn’t feel real, but everything felt like too much.

Maybe Dakota had a point. Maybe you needed to get out.

"Come," Reyna ordered, breaking the silent tension that had been building as Greeks and Romans alike stopped to gawk at your conversation with Dakota. "Let's eat."

You picked your helmet up out of the dirt, a dutiful little soldier with lungs full of glass shards.

You were supposed to be strong.

You were supposed to be strong, but you were just a kid.

Ten years old to be exact. Tears stung at your eyes, burned their way up your throat. You could have vomited. You might have already.

You're a thief and a monster, the other kids at school had claimed, words like bullets as they lobbed pencils and crumbled paper and anything they could get away with at you.

A thief, you would admit to being. You couldn't help it, fingers moving almost of their own accord, always finding the easiest target, the shiniest reward. It didn't matter that you always returned everything you took. No one wanted to be friends with the freak that managed to lift the teacher's wedding band off her finger in kindergarten.

A thief, you were.

But a monster? Monsters were the creatures that clawed at your window at night. Monsters were the odd shapes in the grass your mother never managed to see. You weren't a monster. You were ten.

"Hey, we're not supposed to be back here."

The voice of another child cut through your misery, and you sharpened your glare to pin the intruder to his spot. You recognized him, because he was the type of guy that had called you names in school. Tall—for a kid—and built like an athlete. Tan skin, blond hair, blue eyes.

You were pretty sure his name was Jake Greene, or something.

"You're back here," You reasoned, waving a hand littered with scabbed knuckles around for emphasis. Here being the stretch of unwatched grass behind the Mess Hall, a little place you had discovered on your second day and realized it was secluded enough that no one could see you cry.

Now, a week in, you discovered that it was secluded enough that no one could see you cry, but Jake Greene.

He looked around uncomfortably, like he was just then realizing that he, too, was breaking the rules. Slowly, he glanced over his shoulder, as if checking for witnesses, before trodding through the plush grass to sit beside you, legs stretched out in front of him while yours were pulled tight to your chest.

You checked the ground quickly, relieved to find you hadn't actually vomited.

"I'm Jason. Jason Grace." He introduced himself, as if your eyes weren't bloodshot and face blotchy and cheeks wet with tears.

Not Jake. Noted. Now that you thought about it, you didn't think there was a Jake at Camp Jupiter. Not one that you had met, yet, at least.

You nodded, hoping Jason, Jason Grace would get the hint that you wanted absolutely no fucking part of whatever nice guy routine he was putting on. Even if he was one of the few to approach you since you had arrived, bloody and starved, at the camp's borders, Lupa and her pack deciding you worthy.

This one is feisty, you could have sworn the alpha wolf had snarled a grin at the older centurion who found you. Young, but strong willed.

You didn't feel strong willed. You felt like you missed your own home.

You had to remind yourself that your own home hadn't wanted you and your new home was a Roman military camp.

"Your father is Mercury, right?" Jason tried again, this time earning a sharp glare.

It was easier to be angry than it was to be vulnerable, wasn't it? Wasn't that why you always bit the hand that fed you, got sent to the literal fucking wolves at ten years old?

Jason Grace didn't flinch at your hatred. Hatred? That wasn't the right word. You didn't hate anything or anyone but the schools and teachers that had convinced your mother that you were too difficult to deal with, that you needed to be sent away.

Can I come back for Christmas, Mom?, you had naively asked, not understanding why your mother was crying as you rolled to a stop outside a crumbling, wooden house in Sonoma.

A week later, you wondered if your mother was still crying. Or maybe she was enjoying the peace of no longer getting calls from schools or policemen about you.

You wished you could wipe your hands clean of yourself, like Mom had. Maybe you would understand why everyone in your life always seemed happier after they had gotten rid of you.

"It's not so bad here, I promise," He tried, again, and part of you had to congratulate him for not giving up. You would have. "I cried, a lot, when I first got here."

"You?" The exclamation fell past your lips before you could help it, and Jason's own twisted into a victorious grin. He had a scar, on the side of his lips, shining pearly white in the sun, set against his skin.

"Me," He confirmed. Sure, you had just met the guy, had been calling him the wrong name for a week, but he didn't seem like the type to cry. "I did come here when I was two, though."

You didn't know whether to gasp or swat his arm in retaliation, so you did both, finally uncurling from the ball of fear and hatred you had woven yourself into.

"You're really good in training," Jason complimented, taking your childlike assault in stride. You nodded, picking a few blades of grass out of the ground, right at the roots.

"I used to fight in school," You offered, if it was that simple. But punching your bullies was a whole lot different than locking sword and shield.

In the bunkhouse, the boy in the bed across from you was a son of Ceres, the goddess of the harvest. Your first night, in an effort to make you stop crying, rambled on and on about plants. How to properly care for different crops, what too little sunlight did to a flower, and how a tree could be dug up from the ground, roots and all, and planted somewhere else to live a perfectly normal, perfectly long life.

You stared at the blade of grass in your hand, feeling very much like the plant, your roots floating in the middle of nowhere by the hand of some unseen, unforgiving god.

But maybe you could plant your roots, too.

"If I don't make it here," You whispered, little kid voice hoarse. "Then that's it for me. I don't have anywhere else. I'll have to live on the streets. I've done it, once. Made it a whole week before Mom found me."

Part of you regretted the words as soon as they left your lips. What had Lupa shown you about weakness? It got you killed. It got you punished.

But Jason didn't sneer. He pursed his lips in a thin line, scar shining even brighter with the movement.

"I don't know my mom," He confessed, suddenly just as weak as you. Frowning, you tried to figure out why he was saying it. Big, strong—at least to ten year old you—Jason Grace should not have been any kind of weak.

Nodding, you didn’t have anything to say. But you felt the connection build, just two weak children, forgotten by their mothers.

“But I know you,” Jason offered, the admission warming something in your chest involuntarily. And you knew in that moment that maybe you were scared, but you weren’t alone.

At least Jason Grace knew you.

You grinned, then. A far cry from the glares and snarls everyone else you had come across had received. The ones that even he had been victim to, at the start of the conversation.

"Well, Jason Grace," You stuck out your hand, and he clasped your forearm like a good little Roman. "You're never getting rid of me, now."

The smile he gave you in return was a little lopsided, and when he dropped your arm and glanced over his shoulder, you remembered that your not-so secret hiding spot was off limits.

"Just don’t tell anyone we were back here, please.”

If you had thought your mood was bitter before the trireme arrived, it was nothing compared to the sulking, sorrowful mess you currently were.

For starters, you had somehow been shoved and duped into the seat beside Octavian and across from Jason. You didn't really want to see either of them, at all, at the moment.

Secondly, and you may have been reading far too much into things, but the second girl the Greeks arrived with, Piper, was sitting entirely too close to Jason. You wished that you had a good enough reason to not like her, but with your rotten luck, Piper McLean had been an absolute sweetheart despite your best efforts to act like a dickhead.

And it wasn't like Jason had ever actually been yours, ever.

Third. The plate the sprites dropped in front of you was filled with all of Jason's favorite foods. You weren't sure if it was your will or the sprites that made it happen, but you felt like tossing it all away.

Maybe you would dump it in Octavian's lap. It might make you feel better. It certainly was worth a try.

Finally, there was one aching thought echoing inside your mind relentlessly. The last conversation you ever had with your Jason had been an argument. You had walked away from him, a little petulant, entirely unnecessarily. And you had lost your soldier boy.

Because the Jason seated across from you at the Dining Hall in New Rome was not the same one that wrote out your to-do lists for you on neatly lined paper, offering to tag along with you while you checked them off.

He was just Jason, not yours.

And that hurt far more than you cared to admit.

“Centurion, you must be ecstatic,” Octavian crooned, his sickly smirk pinned on you. You felt a whole lot of things, but ecstatic wasn’t one of them.

“How so, Augur?” You huffed, even though you knew it only invited trouble. Across from you, Jason and Piper clearly had one ear on the conversation.

"Well, you have been inconsolable with our dear Jason Grace missing," Octavian said, as if he really cared about you. More heads started turning in your direction, and you found your fingertips inching to do something that would really get you in trouble. "You were a mess, honestly. Looking like—"

"That's enough," Jason interrupted, even though he didn't have any memories of you.

At least he was still the same horribly perfect sweetheart he had been before he left. His months with the Greeks—all of them watching you with mixed emotions—hadn't turned him sour.

"Oh, you should have seen her, Jason!" Octavian was going now, flourishing in the attention and you hated him, hated him so much your cheeks burned as bright a red as the kool-aid trapped perpetually in Dakota's hip flask. "Crying, every night. She even has—"

"I said, enough, Octavian,"

"—has a key to your bunkroom!" The augur finished, and if you had been able to think of anything beyond your embarrassment or frustration or fear that you were totally, irrevocably erased from Jason's mind, you would have remembered Octavian's threat, earlier, before the trireme arrived. He was just exacting his twisted form of justice.

Embarrass me in front of the Senate, and I will destroy you in front of Jason Grace, you could practically hear him sneer.

"Wait," The Greek named Leo narrowed his eyes at Jason before darting them to you, a grin on his lips that screamed trouble. "Did you two use to date?"

"I don't know," Was Jason's clipped, short reply, his cheeks dusting pink as he fixed his attention on your face. He studied you like he didn't understand you, which was ridiculous, because sometimes it felt like you and Jason shared a heart.

"No," You grunted, shoving your plate forwards, glare fixed on the stupid cherry tomatoes rolling atop the porcelain that you despised and Jason adored.

"We never could figure out if that was the truth," Octavian slanted a look to you, smirking. "But I guess we don't have to worry about that now, do we Centurion? Since he has no memory of you, of—"

Faster than what would have been possible, if your father had been anyone different, you lifted the knife set beside your plate and slammed the tip into the wooden table, between two of his fingers. He screamed, and the plates on the table rattled.

Weapons were forbidden inside the Pomerian Line, but dinner knives were only utensils.

The whole table fell silent. And maybe the whole Dining Hall, had, beyond Octavian's spluttering and cursing and calling for your trial before the Senate for attacking an Augur.

And maybe if Percy wasn't glaring at Octavian, and Reyna hadn't been the one to slip you Jason's key, he might have had a case against you.

"Praetors," Standing, you bowed your head to Reyna and Percy, and though every muscle in your body screamed to pay the same respects to Jason, you couldn’t get yourself together enough to meet his eye. How could he not know you? "I request to be dismissed."

"I will come find you later." Reyna nodded, intelligent eyes shimmering with understanding, and you never realized just how much it hurt to be pitied by her. "We’ve got much to discuss."

"Yeah. Uh, lots." Percy nodded, looking between you and Reyna like he couldn’t quite figure out what he was missing. But then his attention snagged on Jason, seated across the table, and you saw it all—the understanding, the pity, the sorrow—pass over his face. "Wait—"

Annabeth jammed her elbow into his side, and you met her eye briefly. She might have been the only one who understood even a fraction of what you were going through.

But at least Percy remembered her, and he had loved her freely, before.

“Later.” You confirmed through clenched teeth, turning swiftly to try and find a spot far enough from Jason Grace so that his lack of memories didn’t hurt.

You weren’t sure such a spot existed.

Your feet carried you deeper into the city, walking past store after store. You couldn't stomach going into much of them, every bakery and café and bookstore holding some memory of Jason. Far more memories than he held, of you.

You weren't sure how much time had passed before you heard the first explosion.

And Roman training kicked in, instantly, as you raced towards the forum, where the Greek trireme was firing on your city, the one you had only just saved from and army led by a giant.

Fall in! You shouted, organizing legionnaires, your mind and your instincts at war. And you knew Greeks and Romans were at war, too. Protect the city!

You barely were able to glimpse the dark haired boy, Leo, manning the ballistae attached to the side of the ship before it took off, rocketing through the skies, even with Roman firepower slamming into the hull.

And as the trireme disappeared into the distance, fear tore through you.

Because you knew Jason. You knew he was on that ship, with his new friends. You knew he was sailing off with them, bound to a quest that meant saving the world, if what they said was to be trusted.

And you knew what came next.

Jason Grace, loyal to the end.

You were going to have to kill him.

a/n: did not mean to give reader such a tragic backstory but I kinda love it... im so curious to know what ur fav part is, bc I cannot decide. ty for reading this much and plz let me know what you think!

tag, you're it: @aezuria @tayswiftlovebot @bonnie-tz @folklorefantasies14 @sunshine-of-ur-life @irwinchester@bellamysnatblida @saph-nic @auroraofthesun1 @helloimamistake

[cannedpickledpeaches]

Beneficial Marriage

Jade x Reader

You’ve thought about it long and hard. Yes, this is the conclusion you came to. A way to secure your future.

You slam your hands on the table as you stand, your eyes boring into Jade’s face. He continues writing in the Lounge’s ledger book without moving from his seat. You would have thought he didn’t take any notice of your abrupt action, but the slight upwards quirk of his lips gives him away.

“As I thought, I have to get married to a competent person!”

You think you hear him exhale a quick puff of air, something that barely qualifies as laughter.

“Is ‘competent’ truly the word you are looking for?” He flips a page, eyes still trained on the numbers. “Surely, you must have meant ‘wonderful,’ ‘kind,’ ‘compassionate,’ ‘loving,’ or something along those lines, no?”

“Those would be nice, too. But competent definitely is my priority. A useless partner is just dead weight on my shoulders, right? There’s no way I can marry someone who’ll drag me down.”

What brought this on was the recent success of your clothing brand. Your wares focus on making human fashion trends comfortable to wear for all manner of beastkin. Tails, ears, fur, horns, you name it and there’s a category in your online shop for it. It is not a new concept, but it is still true that most trending clothes are created with regular humans in mind. It certainly did not hurt for Vil to casually mention your shop in his recent Magicam post.

“If my success continues, doesn’t this mean I have the potential to really make a lot of money?” You have a surprisingly good business sense, so you think you have a pretty good chance of keeping your brand afloat. But with great money comes great responsibility. “I don’t want to get exploited by a partner for my money, nor do I want my partner to be an idiot who makes growing my business difficult. So it’ll be best if they’re competent and have no issues with managing their own income. They could even help out with mine, although I’m aware that might be asking for too much.”

Jade notes down some calculations, flawlessly multitasking between managing the ledger and listening to you. He hasn’t looked up at you once, but you can tell he’s finding great entertainment in listening to your ramblings. The barely restrained grin on his lips is a dead giveaway.

“You underestimate the greed some possess. Even a businessman with a flourishing company may attempt to steal yours.”

“Well then, I imagine my judgement of character will be so good that I can filter out those people right away.” His shoulders shake slightly. Is he stifling a laugh? “Don’t laugh at me. I’m being serious here.”

“Don’t you think,” he says, closing the ledger, “the fact that you remain friends with me indicates your poor skills in judgement?”

“Don’t be edgy. It’s making you exude middle-schooler vibes.” You dramatically place a hand over your chest and close your eyes in mock sorrow. “Stay away from me for your own good! I’m dangerous!”

Jade finally chuckles audibly, hiding his grin behind a gloved hand. You open one eye out of curiosity. His sharp eyes dart up to meet yours. There’s a curve to them that only exists when the smile is genuine. You aren’t sure how happy you are to be the source of his entertainment.

“How interesting it is to hear that is how you perceive my words. I will be more careful with what I say in the future.”

“Whatever, we’re off topic.” You cross your arms and shifting your weight from one foot to the other. In your excitement, you’ve forgotten you have the option to sit back down. “I’m still thinking about my requirements for a partner.”

“Why are you in such a hurry?” He leans forward in his seat and tilts his head. He must find your dilemma funny. Certainly, he wouldn’t have any troubles finding a partner, the son of rich parents that he is. “We are still young.”

“And no longer in school! Meeting people has never been so difficult.” It’s not that you don’t socialize. Networking is important for business, after all. Unfortunately, nobody so far has met your standards. “If I lower my expectations, my successful and worry-free future will be compromised!”

“There is nothing wrong with staying single.”

You look to the side, pursing your lips. A slight flush settles on your cheeks. When you reply, it is barely above a whisper.

“Maybe I kind of, sort of, just a tiny bit, want a relationship.”

Jade doesn’t look surprised. If anything, his grin grows bigger and shows a few too many serrated teeth.

“There is nothing wrong with that, either. If it will ease your troubles, may I propose a solution?” He reaches across the table and reaches for your hand. You meet him halfway. Your fingers rest in his palm lightly, with enough control to yank back at a moment’s notice if he decides to pull something unhinged just to tease you. He doesn’t do so, but his expression puts you on alert. “Wouldn’t you agree that I am competent enough to be a candidate for your partner?”

You blink once. Twice.

“What kind of bull—”

You snap your mouth shut. Upon further thought, it’s not a bad offer. You’ve known Jade for years. He’s shifty but reliable when you need him to be. Despite your wariness around his hidden motives and his constant sense of schadenfreude, there’s an underlying unspoken trust between both of you. If it comes down to it, you’re confident you can, to some extent, counter his schemes. His family is rich, he’s set to inherit the business, and he’s capable enough to run it properly. Actually, isn’t he a pretty good choice?

“I’ll consider it.”

It’s worrisome how his smile looks like that of a cat that caught the canary, but you suppose he’s always been like that. You can cut him some slack this time. You don’t even withdraw your hand when he pulls it to his lips.

“I am very pleased to hear that.”

“Only for consideration, okay? I haven’t made a decision yet. But even if I do,” your eyes drift to the ceiling in thought, “it should be fine. Couples can always break up, engagements can be annulled, even marriages can be broken by a divorce. So really, I have nothing to worry about!”

He presses his cheek to the palm of your hand, his grin seeming about to split his face in half. He murmurs against your skin in a tone that sounds more like a promise than a goal.

“Rest assured that if you truly choose to be mine, I have no plans on letting you go.” His eyes, sparkling in mischief and withheld laughter, curve with his smile. “So do take your time and think long and hard about it. I will patiently await your answer.”

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

i would just like to thank you for your service of providing us with pjo/hoo fics daily. i’m pretty sure i’ve read every single jason fic (he’s so underrated and no one really writes for him) put there and im so happy to be able to read new ones. i also love reading your percy and leo fics. percy and leo were my first loves but jason has my heart now that im older.

would you consider doing something with jason x hades reader. where reader feels ostracized at both camps and with her family bc she just has creepy vibes seems mean but she’s really just shy and insecure because people treat her badly and leave her out of everything (including her siblings) and he notices and tries to get closer to her to make her feel more welcome. and ends up getting the hots for her.

also would you consider ever doing a jason or percy smut down the road? i loved the leo smut you just posted. i don’t have any prompts.

thank you in advance!! have a great day :)

⋆⭒˚.⋆ jason grace x daughter of hades! reader hcs

content: jason grace x daughter of hades! reader hcs warning: language author's note: i used the word 'stupid' so many times im not even sure if im spelling it correctly anymore- THIS ONE WAS FUN BLOW THIS ONE UP YALL I BEG also, id be willing to do some small smut in the future but i think the ideas have to be my own bc i get a little uncomfy when its requested, ya know??? but idk, that's subject to change

you tried to connect with people, truly you did

you were funny and kind and confident and had the natural ability of just the right amount of sass at all times

but, simply because you were a daughter of hades, people tended to steer clear

even in camp jupiter, which you snuck into with nico to see your sister, hazel

and your siblings tried their best, but they each had their own friends and boyfriends

so, you refused to let them see they got to you

you developed thick skin, beginning to push people away before they could do it to you

until the stupid son of jupiter showed up, just wrecking through all your walls

you had been training by yourself, no one interested in a fight with the daughter of hades, when he popped into the arena, that stupidly bright smile on his stupidly perfect lips

"hey! y/n, right?"

"yup," you replied, dryly and halfheartedly swinging at the dummy

"cool...wanna spar?" he offered, his stupid smile somehow getting brighter

"pass, sparky," you huffed, instantly putting the sword away and going to leave the arena but he caught your arm, causing you to look up at his stupidly handsome face while he looked down at you

"okay, do you want go visit the naiads then?"

"no?" you replied, with a raised brow and frown

"hmmm. okay, how about the strawberry field?"

"...did nico put you up to this?" you asked, dryly

you'd yet to tug your arm free, you realized

you also didn't want to, which was the second thing you realized

"nope. free will is a beautiful thing, huh?" jason joked, his scar twitching with his smile.

"hazel?" you offered and jason laughed, shaking his head

he readjusted his hold on your arm so that now, your guys arms were linked together and he started walking (really, dragging you)

"still no. is it that hard to believe that i just want to hang out with you?" he questioned, his smile slipping slightly as you darted your eyes away

"yes," you bit out, ripping your arm loose before stomping away from the stupid, stupid, son of jupiter

you figured that would be the end of his endeavors

that you finally scared him off like everyone else

but no

he was insistent and persistent

...but he was growing on you

like mold, is what you told yourself to make it feel better

where ever you went, he seemed to follow like a bright shadow

though, there was one place you got some small reprieve from the stupidly smiley boy

(though, as time went on, you started wanting him around too)

your father's place, which you visited whenever nico did

and, ever the intuitive one, he could tell something was off with you

while nico doted on and climbed your step-mother's pomegranate trees, you were half-heartedly sipping at your pomegranate lemonade, curled up in some iron garden chair

"is something wrong, principessa?" hades asked, "you've barely drank any and i know it's your favorite."

"wh-what?? no, no, i'm- i'm okay, dad. no, no, i'm great, yeah," you sputtered out, rapidly taking a large drink to prove a point

"she has a crush!" nico called as he hung from the pomegranate tree, smirking upside down at the girl

you jumped up, grabbing a nearby skull and hurling it at the boy, which send him slamming into the ground with calls of indignation

"that's nothing to be ashamed of, my dear daughter! do tell, you know i love to know everything," your father laughed, leaning forwards and resting his head against his hands in intrigue

"you're not gonna like it," you murmured, shrinking in on yourself

"as long as it's not zeus' blasted blonde boy, i'm sure-..." hades halted as saw the way you shrunk in even more at his words before sighing

"great. more blondes," he huffed and nico and you shared a look, before erupting into laughter

with your father's (sort of) permission, you came back to camp with a new determination

jason found you easily, jumping up from his seat and rapidly approaching you, asking about your visit with your father

"dandy as always," you mused with a soft smile, causing jason to beam down at you

"you're in a good mood," he pointed out, gently

"well, you've got that effect on me, i guess," you flirted, looking up at him through your lashes and tilting your head slightly

jason flushed, instantly, coughing slightly

"wh-what? y/n-"

"let's go to the woods, jase. c'mon," you quickly redirected, grabbing his wrist and dragging him towards the forest

you were giving jason whiplash and he couldn't find it in him to want you to stop

you dragged him behind you, slowing to a stop as you glanced around, ensuring no peeping toms before turning back to jason, who was looking only at you

something he did often whenever you were around, like his eyes were unable to pull from you

"you've ruined my life, you know," you started, shoving a finger into his chest.

jason laughed, tilting his head at you in question as he could tell you were joking from the twitch of your face

"deepest apologies," jason replied, "how, exactly, have i ruined your life?"

"by being so stupidly you, jason grace. your stupid smile, your stupid jokes, your stupidly handsome face, your stupid lips-"

before you could get another word out, the boy was kissing you

and you were kissing him

and it was stupid, all the time you wasted not kissing his stupid lips with your stupid lips

[nikandrros]

Okay, I'm gonna go a little

but hear me out:

If Melinoe is the ghost goddess/chthonic nymph and has the same hair color as Persephone, and following the Melinoe hymn it's said that "whom revered Persephone bore by the mouth of the Kokytos river", I'm betting money on the fact that she was born just after Zagreus, but since Mel was... you know, phantom-like:

Persephone could not just leave her to be or get back to the Underworld, so I'm theorizing she did the second best thing: leave Melinoe with someone else who was more apt to take care of her, someone like...

since Melinoe was called a, you know:

and she also calls the new big mommy Headmistress, so if I'm theorizing right said headmistress could either be Hecate, Circe, or Medea. Circe is a good option because of her island, which is somewhere the teaser seems to be happening at? Or a garden of some kind, or Olympus garden for all that I know because Chronos got himself free and brought war upon the Olympians, and on that note, I would like to point out that this place can very much be Poseidon's domain:

Some other things that I would LOVE to point out:

This guy is a son of Nyx. He's Thanatos and Hypnos' brother.

Nemesis is also a daughter of Nyx and it's said in canon. Also: LOOK AT THE FUCKING SWORD.

And Supegiant said in the Steam intro that:

"Infuse your legendary weapons of Night with ancient magick, so that none may stand in your way. Become stronger still with powerful Boons from more than a dozen Olympian gods, from Apollo to Zeus. There are nearly limitless ways to build your abilities. Meet a cast of dozens of fully-voiced, larger-than-life characters, including plenty of new faces and some old friends. Grow closer to them through a variety of new interactions, and experience countless unique story events based on how your journey unfolds."

Can we expect Hera, Hephaestus, and Hestia? Because we already got this gay- I mean, guy.

Halfway through this, I was like "ok but the headmistress dress like Charon so it would be pretty fucking funny if it was just Nyx with a hat" and this thought does have some credibility bc:

I MEAN??? LOL I MIGHT BE WRONG BUT I ALSO MIGHT BE RIGHT?? I think two chthonic gods in a trench coat are not too far-fetched for Hades' standards

(Will she be a boss? Will Chronos be a boss? WILL CHRONOS STOP TIME JUST AS HADES GOT INVISIBLE?)

AND YOU CAN PET THE FROG, THIS IS REALLY IMPORTANT (its name might be Frino, because it was the name of the file when I got it from Steam).

And who do you think this red-caped dude is? My friend is betting her money on Odysseus and Jason.

And I would like to finish this madness with the fact that since Chronos is fucking shit up and Hades is trapped inside a BDSM dungeon like this

Zagreus is probably doing what he hates most in this whole wide world: the desk job LOL GET FUCKED ZAG

AND GO WATCH THE ANIMATED TRAILER

[rainylana]

“Do you like trees?”

Eddie Munson x reader

summary: this is part four, and final part of the ‘i think i’m in love’ series! thank you all so much for the support and kind words. i appreciate them more than you know. also i never proofread lol that’s for losers, so if i use she/her pronouns rather than y/n preferences, forgive me:)

also, now that this series is over, i will be taking requests. smut, fluff, anything! so send me some asks:))

warnings: fluff to the max, you know the drill. insecure reader, language, some angst (if you squint lol), reader hinting around that she’s a virgin, and as usual, eddie being a nervous wreck, and uncle wayne being a sweetheart:) also no, dustin does not have a girlfriend in this series so yeah he’s always flirting with the reader lmao.

taglist!

@marauders3rawh0re @eddiemunnson @eddiemania @averysblog @softyutae @ches-86 @ahzysauce @your-starless-eyes-remain @cosmic-lavender @flowers-and-tsukki @underthebatcape @mic429 @heeyitsg @catherinnn @fentyreligion @justaproudslytherpuff @supercalifragilisticprincess @imabadarsebard @fionnthebandersnacc @antigoneidk @actuallybarb @kneelforloki @cozy-little-flower @lexthemess21 @noturmom15 @imdoingbetternow @rovckwells @getbillzoned @delilahtaylorsverson @kaqua @phantomxoxo @no0neknowsm3 @hijynx75 @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @imangy @slytherinintj13 @ohlovelyhollow @avobabe87 @tessiemessie

“I just don’t know what to do. I think I completely messed things up! I shouldn’t have- I just couldn’t stop myself. She’s just so…beautiful, and smart, shit she’s so smart. And she’s just so kind and actually cares about what I have to say! Like she actually listens to me, Uncle Wayne!” Eddie was practically jumping up and down, pacing trails in their shared trailer.

Wayne was sat down on the couch, beer in hand with a confused look on his face. It wasn’t like him and Eddie weren’t close, they were, but this was new. His nephew didn’t take about girls, and only ever looked at them when they were in trashy magazines. So when he came home from work and was greeted with Eddie ranting about some girl he didn’t even know existed, it was fair to say he felt lost.

“I mean, was I just supposed to let Carver say those things to her? Call her a- well, that! What if he had tried to put his hands on her?” He threw his hands up, curls bouncing with each anxious step. “And when she was- she just looked so pretty there. She said that I didn’t deserve to be called a freak.” He chuckled, stopping in his steps. “A girl said that, Uncle Wayne. I felt like I was going to die if I didn’t kiss her, now what if I messed it all up! I mean-”

“Are you going to let me speak?” His uncles gruff voice shut him up, and he clamped his mouth shut, realizing he was rambling. Wayne sighed, rubbing a tired hand over his face. He didn’t know the first thing to say to him, because this was new territory. Not with the opposite sex, per say, but Eddie with the opposite sex. He also didn’t want to screw this up. In a weird way, it made him feel good that his nephew felt comfortable coming to him for advice. He’d raised him since he was twelve, and though he wasn’t his father, he felt like he was. “Listen son, it’s great that you found someone that you…like, but why are you freaking out for? Shouldn’t you be happy that you kissed her?” He sat his elbows on his knees.

“Of course, I’m happy!” He exclaimed, spinning on his heal and pacing again. “I’m fucking ecstatic! It was perfect! And those lips-”

“I don’t need to hear about that.”

Eddie blushed, waving a hand as he paused. “Uh, yeah sorry. Anyways I’m just- well, I’m afraid that I screwed everything up. We’re just so different. She’s perfect and I’m…not perfect. She’s cute and funny and just,” He took a breath, realizing he hadn’t in almost sixty seconds.

It had been a long time since Wayne had seen him so engrossed in conversation, especially about another person. Eddie didn’t get that way, at least until now. He was having a hard time keeping up, but he recognized those tale tell signs of overwhelming anxiety that his nephew displayed, watching as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Ed, why don’t you sit down,” He cleared his throat, patting the seat next to him. The boy cleared his throat, his jewelry shuffling as he made his way to the sofa. He tried to remember past love affairs so he could try and give the best advice, but high school had been a long time ago. “Are you…are you afraid that things will be awkward between the two of you?”

He saw the relief in the brown eyed boys eyes, giving a deep nod. “Yeah. I don’t want it to be. I’ve only known her for a short time but I just- I don’t know, I get so overwhelmed being around her, like this urge to protect her and I don’t understand it.”

Wayne understood it. He understood it quiet well. That was love, and he face palmed as the situation became much for dire. Eddie had pretty much been a “grown up” since middle school, at least acted like he was, but this here, made Wayne feel incredibly old. “I get it.” He removed his hand. “Do you think she likes you back?”

Eddie’s eyes flashed with a gleam of uncertainty, and every moment he’d ever shared with her flashed in his mind. “I don’t know.”

“I just don’t want to make her uncomfortable, you know?” He continued, turning to his uncle. “I don’t want to pursue this if she doesn’t feel the same way, otherwise I’ll just be pushing her away and I can’t- I don’t want her to not be my friend anymore.”

Wayne already knew this girl, you, liked his nephew. Because Eddie was an absolute handful, a complete drama queen. No girl would subdue themselves for that unless they were head over heels in love. He knew that right off. He also knew how insecure he was, so if he was falling in love, his insecurities would be through the roof. Not anything with his appearance, but his background and reputation. Of course, it was eddie’s own fault for the reputation he’d built for himself, but he would never be someone he wasn’t.

“She likes you, Eddie.” Wayne smirked, not knowing what else to say. Advice in dating wasn’t his strong suit, especially to his nephew. The sex talk nearly sent him straight into a heart attack.

“What makes you say that?” His eyes grew big. “You don’t even know her.”

“No, I don’t.” Wayne shook his head, taking a long sip of beer. “But, I don’t need to. I’ve raised you for almost nine years, so that gives me the right to say it, but you’re a little shit, Eddie.” He chuckled, watching the boy’s eyes narrow, his lips parting in confusion.

“Huh?”

“You were a tough kid to take care off. Always in to stuff, pulling pranks on everyone and getting into trouble. Even as a baby you always had to have the attention, and son, not to be rude, but you still do.” He smiled as he remembered the boy as a baby, and Eddie only sat there with curios look. “My point is, son, that you’re not a typical college football high school graduate. Shit, you ain’t even graduated yet. You’re reckless and careless and have barely any manors. You scare the neighbors with that metal you blast. All I’m saying is, if you got a girl glued to your side just because she likes some board game, there’s more to the story.” He nodded with a smile, clapping Eddie on the shoulder.

“I’m taking a shower, order a pizza, will ya?” He stood, leaving Eddie alone with his thoughts.

Even though his uncle practically insulted him, at least in some way or another, he felt a sense of calming relief wash over him. It made sense, Eddie realized that. He was an absolute drama queen, and practically everyone at school hated him, not that he cared. So why would she spend all that time with him?

Of course, there was always the chance that she only liked him platonically. Maybe she- or maybe she, or she could-

maybe, maybe, maybe

He covered his face with his hands. He couldn’t sit and think about the maybes, otherwise he’d have a panic attack. He’d see you tomorrow, and he’d take it from there. Eddie had been winging things his entire life, so he’d do the same with you, because he didn’t know how else to do it.

He’d wing it.

•

“Where is she?” Eddie exclaimed, examining the cafeteria with a dumbfound look. “I haven’t seen her all day! Did she come to school today?” He looked back to the table.

“No, man.” Dustin shook his head, glancing around the noisy room. “I haven’t seen her. You guys?”

Eddie watched as they all shook their heads no, and he cursed dramatically, a look on his face that screamed he was absolutely done with the world. “I’ve ruined it. I knew it. She’s gonna transfer to another school now and I’m going to alone for the rest of my life!” He shouted, gaining stares from nearby tables.

“What? What are you taking about?” Mike scrunched his nose, watching as Eddie sunk into his set, laying his head on the table.

“I kissed her.” He groaned, voice muffled.

“What?” Dustin screech, literally screeched, shaking the table. “You kissed y/n? You can’t let me have anything can you!”

“Here we go again.” Jeff groaned, knocking shoulders with Garrett.

“When?” Dustin smacked Eddie’s arm, watching the metal head raise his defeated body.

“Yesterday.” He sunk back in his seat. “You were there, Henderson. After the fight.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “You’re- you’re kidding me! I was this close to finally getting a girlfriend! I hate my life.”

“Well, I’m sure you can have a chance with her now,” Eddie stared at your empty seat, bouncing his knee up and down. “Since I fucked everything up.”

“What did she say?” Mike asked, in as much disbelief as everyone else. “Did she kiss you back?”

He hadn’t even really thought about it, and he gave Wheeler a look, biting his thumb nail down until it started to hurt. She did, when he thought back to it, but it was random movements, little adds of pressure that underlined his. It was discreet, but yes, she did kiss him back. “I think so, yeah.”

“Well, either she did or she didn’t.”

“She did, Wheeler! Cant you shut the hell up for once in your small life?”

“Okay, guys!” Dustin slammed his fists against the table, his thinking cap nearly flying off his head. “Let’s recap. Eddie kissed y/n, steals her from me, by the way, and now she’s not at school. Did you kill her?”

“Fuck you.” Eddie scoffed, crossing his arms. It was clear he was in an absolute foul mood, snapping at everyone, but he was scared, too.

“Maybe something came up,” Mike suggested, trying to make their friend feel better. All of hellfire knew how crazy he was about you, and knew that it was inevitable for this moment to happen. “I’m sure it doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

Everyone started chiming in, adding things here and there trying to make him feel better. He sat there with crossed arms, biting his nails as he zoned off, staring at the cafeteria floor scuffed with shoe marks. His heart was beating with a crack of uneasiness and devastation, anxiety making him dizzy. Who was he kidding? How could he even believe that someone as perfect as yourself could even look his way.

He was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid-

“Excuse me, Edward?” He jumped three feet at the tap on his shoulder, shielding himself with his arms. He narrowed his eyes. “Miss Calihan? What’s- uh, what’s up?” He felt uneasy at the sudden sight of the school librarian in front of him, the small, little old lady that everyone loved. Even he didn’t mind her, he supposed.

“Your friend y/n left her book in the library yesterday. I heard she was sick, so could you give this to her when she returns?” Everyone’s eyes widened at the woman’s words, but Eddie’s, dear god, exploded in his skull. (like fred and chrissy lol)

“Oh! Um, okay, s-sure!” He stuttered, grasping the book in his hands. “Yeah, definitely! Of course, sure!”

The woman thanked him, patting his hand and leaving the table in awe. He gripped the book tightly, tracing over the cover of Romeo and Juliet. It made perfect sense. You would read that. The biggest, tooth full smile spread across his face, and he looked to his sheep with pure joy. “What did I tell you guys! All that worrying for nothing!” His table laughed, while Dustin rolled his eyes.

“She’s sick!” He repeated, tasting the words with his mouth. “She’s sick! She’s sick this is wonderful!”

“You shouldn’t be happy your girlfriend is sick, Eddie,” Dustin glared, stabbing his food with a plastic fork. “You’re a bad boyfriend. Let me date her now.”

“Fuck off, Henderson.”

•

You wondered if you’d caught something from Eddie, maybe a cold he didn’t know he had. Whatever it was, you were almost grateful you didn’t have to go to school that day, not knowing how to act around him, or what to say. Hell, you didn’t even know how you felt about it. You couldn’t even begin to understand it.

Eddie was your best friend, but when he kissed you, it made you feel dizzy. It made your stomach flutter with a buzzing feeling that almost made you sick. It made your thighs feel warm. You knew that you liked it. You wanted to do it again. But you were so damn awkward. And what about Eddie? Did he like it? He probably didn’t, because you barely kissed back. You didn’t know how. He probably got second hand embarrassment.

You were too different from him, he must have realized that. Your music taste was drastically different, your clothing style. How you talked and behaved. If you sat too long and thought about it, your eyes would tear up, so you laid in your bed and hugged your pillow, hoping your runny nose would go away.

A tap at the window sat you up, alarmed at a possible idea of an intruder. What a good time it would have been to know karate. Another tap, and you crawled out from your bed, flicking on your bedside lamp. You pushed the curtain open barely, sighing when you saw him. You gasped, shoving the curtains out of the way and craning open the window. “Eddie?” You kneeled. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too.” He smirked, balancing himself on the roof as he trapped the window seal. His face was red from his climb, a few tiny twigs in his hair from the wines he climbed up along the wall. “I heard you were sick. You okay?”

“Oh, yeah,” You blushed at the closeness, clearing your throat. “Just a little sniffle. Mom didn’t want me going, so,”

He nodded, his veins fueling with confidence. He kept repeating everything his uncle said, and it made him feel as cocky as ever. “Do you like trees?”

Your face fell. “Sorry?”

“Trees.” He repeated, his long, bejeweled arms stretching out in front of him. “Do you like them?”

Your mouth opened and closed. “I uh- I don’t hate them, if that’s what you mean?”

“Good,” He smirked. “Because I want to bring you somewhere. You feel up to it?”

It was all happening so quickly, and you blushed madly, but gave a tentative nod. “Oh- sure! Yeah, okay. Let me uh- let me change first.”

“Nonsense,” He waved you off, stretching out his hand. “You look fine, come on.”

He didn’t give you much choice as you grabbed his hand, him helping you out of the window and down the side of your roof. Your heart raced with anticipation, knowing this was the most scandalous thing you’d ever done, and would probably be grounded for life if you got caught.

He drove you in his van to a lake, lover’s lake, he called it, and held your hand while you both walked on a remote trail. Your face was beat red with each step, nervousness and excitement all wrapped up in a ball. “Dustin and I built this back in freshman year,” He smiled, tilting your chin up to see the treehouse above you.

“Oh, my god,” You smiled, stepping closer. “It’s so cool!” You giggled, admiring all the details. Hellfire club was engraved at the entrance, a dark cape covering the door.

“Yeah, it is kinda awesome,” He smirked, glancing at your smiling face. “Come on,” He flicked your shoulder, and you walked to the roots of the tree to the ladder that dropped down. He went first, holding out his hand for you to follow. You laughed to yourself at the height, the night air cool on your face.

He helped you into the little house, pulling you up by the arm and grabbing your waist. “Wow,” You smiled, admiring all the heavy metal posters, empty food containers and trash.

“It’s messy, I know,” He scratched the back of his head, turning on a lantern. “Sometimes I sleep out here just cuz’ it’s private.”

You walked to the window, admiring the scenic view of the lake. “It’s pretty.”

He moved to lean beside you, your elbows resting on the wooden seal. The moon made your faces look pale, and he couldn’t seam to stop staring at you. Maybe it was the shot he took before picking you up, but he felt like all or nothing. “I can’t pretend that I’m not in love with you,” He said nonchalantly, and you snapped your neck so quickly to his.

“What?”

He chuckled as he rubbed his face, throwing up his hand. “Yeah, I know. Pretty crazy, right? I mean, I’m seriously in love with you. Like it’s bad how much.” He smirked over at you with awkward chuckles, though you could not laugh. You were frozen.

“I always said that love at first sight crap was bull shit, but I mean the moment I fucking saw you I knew. You make me feel so many things and I have no idea how to understand them. I’m rambling, I know. You’re gonna have to stop me otherwise I’ll go-” His voice muffled when your hand covered his mouth, and you both locked eyes, your mouth opening and closing as you tried to find words to speak.

You didn’t know what to say, how to respond. You didn’t know anything about relationships, about what Eddie was saying. It scared you, because you knew that you loved this man too, deep down you did, but you were terrified of disappointing him. You were so different, inexperienced. You had no idea. He stared at you, watching as your eyes darted back and forth, an expression on your face he couldn’t read. He loved the feeling of your hand on his lips.

“I have no-” You looked at his chest, your hand still on his mouth. “I have no idea how to understand the way I feel.” You gulped, causing his brows to furrow.

It was weird, because now, you felt so insecure. Never in your life had you felt so insecure, so naked before someone. You almost felt like crying, because you wanted to be perfect for him, but you weren’t. You were like a baby learning how to walk. A baby bird taking it’s first flight. Never in your life had you felt so terrified.

“I could try and say something as romantic as you, but I’d fail.” You sighed, dropping your hand from his face. He started growing concerned, because you looked like you were practically in pain. “When I’m with you I’m just so happy and I- when you say those things or- or look at me like you are now, it makes me feel things. And it- it just…it scares me because I don’t know how to..or what they are.” You sniffled from your cold, eyes burning from the cool air.

Your face grew red in embarrassment, your eyes batting up to his. He was staring straight at you, a pensive look on his face. “Yesterday was my…it was uh, my- first. It’s all I’ve been able to think about and I’m so scared that I’ll…I just, I mean, I don’t want to disappoint you. Boys they’ve never…no one has ever looked at me the way you do. I don’t want to ruin anything for you because I don’t…I just don’t know how to do any of this. We’re so different and I don’t-”

“Okay, whoa, whoa, what?” He held up his hands, eyes widened at your confession. “Y/n, I- sister, I don’t care that you’re a virgin.” Your jaw dropped at how casually he said it, and your fingers tightened into fists.

“You think I care about that? That it’s really going to sway my feelings for you?” He looked in complete dismay, mind blown at your confession. “And you think I’m not scared? Shit, babe, I’m terrified! I’ve never been so goddamn scared in my entire life. You fucking terrify me.” He chuckled, shaking his wild curls as he enunciated each word.

“I’m not- I didn’t say anything of this just to get you into bed, y/n,” He assured you, hoping that you truly didn’t feel that way. “I said it because I’m in love with you, whatever that means,” He laughed, pushing out air between his lips. “And you don’t have to say it just because I did. I don’t want you to say anything you don’t want to. I just don’t want you thinking like that, okay?” He placed his hand on your knee, and again, your stomach took flight. It made your heart swell, the contact and you thought of everything he said.

It was hard to put into words, it was for you, anyways, but Eddie seemed to sum it all up for you. You sighed heavily, staring into each other’s eyes. “I love you too.”

His features fell. “What? You don’t-”

“You said everything I wanted to,” You cut him off, grabbing his wrist tentatively. “And I do, I love you, even though it scares me to death.”

He breathed the biggest breath of relief, and your eyes flickered down to his lips. “Kiss me again,” You whispered, his eyes going to yours.

He grew quiet, his face molding into a pensive look, gulping.

“Just don’t make fun of me, okay? I don’t know what I’m doing.” You chuckled awkwardly, scooting closer.

He laughed with you, his hand cupping your chin. “Never.”

[hezuart]

New helluva boss episode is out, any thoughts?

Season 1 Fizz: Robo Fizz was mean and called children ugly. Real Fizz called his guests “freaks”. Called Moxie an "ugly little bitch". Bragged about his fame and the money made off his robots and was even really pissed off his robot was destroyed at that theme park and wanted to sue

Season 2 Fizz: Extremely insecure, extremely nervous, hates the robots produced in his image, never bad mouths anyone and is really kind and nice to his competition, knows ASL and gives inspiration to children 

Who on earth is this guy???? You’re not Fizz??? By god, she’s done it again! Another male main character has been uwuified!! 😰When will it end???

~~~

Mammon: “You’ll be like the son I never had!” Fizz is elated at this, but Blitz’s dad already treated Fizz like the son he never had? Literally gave him a card saying he wished Fizz was his son. He was treated super well and was the most beloved within his circus. I mean, he did lose that, and him explaining everything he has is because of Mammon, and so I get it, he has an attachment to all this. I like that we are expanding on his character, but I feel like its overdone. The insecurity is a little too much. The panic attacks are a little too much. (Dude lost his arms and legs in a freak fire accident and its a creepy fan that he probably has to deal with on a daily basis that sets him off? I feel like he would be a tad bit mentally and physically stronger to deal with. I mean, he fricken talked back to STRIKER, a serial killer holding him for ransom locked in a cage last episode??? But he freezes up when an annoying fan criticizes him? Just feels inconsistent.) 

Mammon saying “If you’re a chick, give up on your dreams, because woman ain’t funny” and then Vivziepop’s name appearing in the corner… there’s so much to unpack there. I think Viv meant it as like “I’m a woman, so I can write that joke!” or “I’m a woman, who wrote this show and is therefore funny so Mammon is wrong and it's ironic!” But it's been established that Viv neglects and mistreats her female characters. They’re either all bitches or cardboard cut outs whose entire existences revolve around a male character. It’s low-key sexist. On top of the fact that, Viv may not actually be funny because most of the actually funny jokes in the show were written by Adam and Brandon, who are both men. So its VERY ironic, but not in the way she believes it to be. 

The irony of Mammon hiring an Imp who idolizes him only to exploit him and treat him like garbage… weren’t their exworkers of spindle horse that felt that way? 

Some people think that Fizz’s creepy fan is like.. Viv’s poke at her critics but I don’t see a comparison at all. This guy is a super super big fan that wants to work with Fizz, which isn’t what the Viv critics want. I’m pretty sure that’s the whole point- is that they want nothing to do with her? So I’m pretty sure this guy just represents a creepy fan, which everyone gets. Like a Syndrome character. 

Also in season 1, Blitz killed imps left and right for Stolas, but when that fan is actually getting close to Fizz and threatening his life, Blitz doesn’t kill him on site. He just hits him with a gun. Thank goodness he kills him later but Blitz has never really been discreet. It was just weird forced timing I guess. Season 1 Blitz would have never hesitated. He would have killed that guy on site.

I will never get over Asmodeus’s weird coat, his anatomy changes with whatever he’s wearing lkdsgjldkfj 

Mammon and Fizz are pretty much just Valentino and Angel Dust , but no physical exploitation (other than his robo replicas)

The Glam and Glitz sisters are really cool I’m obsessed with their performance, but we go right back to Viv’s 2 types of women: bitches. They’re bitches to each other too. They’re sisters who have like amazing choreography and on stage chemistry, and yet they constantly fight, like… how do they even function 

ALSO THEY GOT TOM HARDY TO SING HE’S NARRATING THE COMPETITION YOU GOT THE INTERNET’S FAMOUS MUSICAL COMEDIAN TO SING A SONG FOR YOUR “COMEDY” SHOW WHERE THE SONG ISN’T EVEN FUNNY It looks like he wrote it himself but… if even Tom can’t make it funny then who can???? I’m mad on his behalf 

Also… the ASL imp

…. “I want to be a clown just like you! : D “ Fizz: Exploited for money as a clown ever since he was young, gained a boatload of insecurity because his boss was so pushy, forced to deal with sexual encounters, sold his likeness into a popular sex doll without actually wanting to, lost his arms and legs in a freak fire accident because the circus tents aren’t safe- Also Fizz: “You can do whatever you want to : ) “ This would have been a sweet moment if this wasn’t Helluva Boss!!!!!! This is Hell!!! what on earth are you doing Viv!!!! Kid pls do literally anything else with your life  Also how and why does Fiz know ASL

Ozzie and Fizzie getting a love song is cheesy you know, but…. Stolas X Blitz fans wish man… they WISH Oz x FIz is literally just the better Stolas x Blitz. Like this what the Stolitz fans want but its given to the side characters for some reason. Fizz’s end song was nice but All our main characters are just so flat Sad uwu special sweeties that have done nothing wrong... I'm just so sad to see them become former shadows of their badass selves. Our main characters were greedy, selfish, mean, sometimes creepy assholes. Now they're not. It was either an accident, they're hypocrites, or they were abused- and im like... this is Hell, can't we still have our main demon characters be assholes? I'm so curious what the explanation is gonna be for Blitz x Verosika. Is she gonna be framed as the bitch who ruined the relationship? Did Blitz "accidentally" steal her car and credit card because he was drunk? Like what else are we gonna strip away so he's "relatable"?

Nice to see Wally Wackford back I missed him 

I like how fiery Ozz’s design gets Ozzie confessing he loves Fizz to an entire crowd so all of Hell knows and everyone is like “OMG I KNEW IT! GOOD FOR THEM!” Being with a low class demon was something to be ashamed of. A power imbalance. Something seen as taboo in Hell. Now we have 3 top sin embodiments dating the lowest of low class in Hell and not only do people not care negatively, they’re happy for them. There’s no stakes. Our main characters can do whatever they want “You’re gonna regret revealing that Ozz!” how who are you gonna tell? the romance police? fricken Now we have Mammon! Add him to the reoccurring villains I guess!!!! yeesh 

(Clowns are apparently also like… influencers in this world for some reason???? I still don't understand Vivziepop's clown obsession I think this is just not my jurisdiction )

All things considered, not a bad episode for season 2, but im kinda at the point where I don't think helluva boss is gonna deliver anything outside of abused main characters with cute relationships I don't think they're gonna do anything else

[starwarsalltypesoflove]

SW - ALL TYPES OF LOVE WEEK

INFO

Star Wars: All Types of Love week is a fandom event of fancreations, lasting a week, that celebrates love in its many forms! Since we celebrate romantic love and familial love often, we thought it might be time to give an opportunity for other kinds of love to shine!

Inspired by the Ancient Greek Philosophers and their seven kinds of love, we aim to showcase those different, less celebrated loves. Rooting for the little guys!

HOW TO PARTICIPATE

No sign-up, nothing. Just create!!!

Post during the appropriate week and you’re good!

We welcome any kind of creation, as long as it is truly yours. Even old posts being reblogged is fine! Old creations deserve as much love as new ones.

Fanfics, fanarts, moodboards, fanvids, fancomics, banners, playlists… An epic fic or a 100 word drabble, an amazing painting or a stick figures funny scene- we love it all!!

WHEN TO POST

Wednesday 7th of February, 00h00 PST, to Wednesday 14th of February, 23h59 PST.

HOW TO POST

Post under the tag SWATOLW during the week the event is running. Add the tag of the type of love you are representing. 

Be sure to @ us so we can appreciate what you’ve made and put it in the round-up!

WHAT TO POST

Star Wars characters, places, animals, games… Be it from the movies, the novels, the comics, the shows like The Clone Wars, The Mandalorian, Andor or even your own OC, the important parts are:

It must be from the Star Wars fandom

It must be about Love and that love must be not romantic or familial

To get a better idea of what we mean by that, you can read more about the seven types of love here. In short, we want to give a chance to shine to:

Love of Friends #philia

Love of Strangers #agape

Love of Partners #pragma

Love of Players #ludus

Love of Self #philautia

You can post about any of these, at any time of the week. There isn’t a day assigned to each type. The point is to create without pressure and celebrate all the types of love we don’t often focus on! The more of these you depict, the more we will love you for it!

QUESTIONS

“I love my two clones who are bffs, but they are clones. Does their love count as familial?”

Well, the truth rather depends on your point of view how you present it.

Pairs like Fives and Echo, and Rex and Cody, are usually understood in canon and fandom to be family. They can be friends too, but we’d prefer to focus on other pairs for this event. Post another time. We’re sure people will love it.

Alpha-17 and Cody have a cross-generational friendship? As long as the way their relationship is described/shown isn’t the dynamic of big brother & younger brother, or father figure & son figure, it’s good!

Want to show off Waxer & Boil being two peas in a pod? We would love that! As long as it isn’t a ship or they, the characters, don’t feel like the other is kin in the way we understand it.

“I want to show my two Mandalorians who are Partners In Bounty Hunting, but they are from the same clan. Does this work?”

No. I’m sorry, but it does not. We consider clan to be the SW equivalent of immediate family, a close circle, so it’s not the right event for this. But it does work if they are just from the same house or faction!

“Can I do two Jedi who are teammates and lovers?”

You can show any characters (two, three, four…) having a relationship that is sexual and based on love. As long as that love is not romantic.

If what moves your Jedi is the sense of purpose found in duty, the common love for the Light and the wider galaxy, the playfulness and affection shared between bed partners, these feelings can be as big as the moon, and it is still fine!

That is the whole point!

Feelings can be enormous and serious and important and still not be romantic or familial.

But if it’s shown or implied that the relationship is romantic/familial or turning so at some point, that is not what our event is focused on.

We know people are a bit tired from the holidays and that Valentine’s Day is a period often rich with events, which is why we put these conditions so it can be as low-pressure as possible. The point is to rejoice in all the breadth and the richness of the human sentient experience of love. In the love of Star Wars. And in the love of this community.

Be civil and show goodwill to participants and spectators. Be kind. YKINMKATO. Go crazy! Be creative! Have fun!

Love!

@swfandomevents

[longtallglasses]

some miwi headcanons just bc ! older ones

i see young mike as kind of loud and not realizing how loud (and annoying) his yelling near people is (ie karen yelling in s1 “mike let’s go!” “COMING!!!”) however he quickly learns not to yell around will, adopting his softer voice for him BUT

in school he’s constantly calling over to will “will come here” “will sit next to me” “will! over here! look at this!” trying to get his attention “will, will, hey will…” other kids are like dude shut up… so many kids know will’s name who’ve never seen him, and mike’s thought of as that kid who’s always calling out for his friend.

i’m an avid rock collector!mike enjoyer. on the playground, in the forest, at the park, at the lake. he’s picking up all the cool ones, storing them away for very important scientific reasons like “this one’s shiny in A Different way!” he sets aside his favorites to show and give to will, very much in the style of a cat bringing a dead rodent to their owner, like “got something special just for you :) a Very Cool Rock :)” will loves how much mike enjoys it and is very excited to receive them, feeling quite special.

will loves stuffed animals (i mean we been knew) when he was younger they all had names and backstories, interpersonal drama and storylines he played out. two stuffed cats he definitely thought of as him and mike subconsciously, as they were best friends. he would act out little dramatic scenes of them running away from some oppressive kingdom, going on an adventure and meeting new friends along the way. … and he may have made them kiss a few times …

obviously small will loved drawing, but i don’t think he was always confident in his skill. after people tell him he’s good he gets caught up in trying to be really good, and gets frustrated when he can’t do something the way he wants. hence crumpled up attempts in the trash mike fishes out. there’s a spell of time where he gives up for a bit and jonathan asks why he hasn’t seen him drawing lately, and will says he doesn’t think he can get any better, it’s too hard. jonathan tells him it doesn’t matter if it’s perfect, he should just draw to make himself happy “draw for the campaigns, your friends think it’s so cool” so will keeps at it focusing on drawing what he thinks him and his friends will appreciate

while watching scary movies in the basement mike and will always held hands under blankets. it started when they were younger and they first got permission to watch a scary movie, they didn’t want to admit they might be getting too scared. during a big jump their hands reached out on instinct and too caught up in the movie they didn’t let go. when it was over they didn’t talk about it, but then it just kept happening every time they got scared. which led to holding hands when upset outside of watching movies. they never really discussed it, it just felt like their little secret thing.

all the boys were nice to holly but will was the only friend who actually liked seeking her out to play w them. (fascinated by a little sister unlike lucas and only-child dustin) mike and will would play games with her sometimes, will thinking she was really cute, and mike thinking it was cute will really liked her. cue karen thinking will is the best influence on her son

i have such a strong image of kindergarten miwi right after they become friends making mud pies together every recess. their teacher scolds them the first few times having to scrub their hands when they come back in. it gets so bad when the recess monitor sees them heading for the dirt they’re yelling “Michael! William! don’t even think about it!” they think it’s so funny to rile them up, they start spreading mud on each others arms “will you need more than that!” they only try to eat it a few times, it does taste really gross. after they’re banned from the dirt, they move to the sand box, it’s only a bit cleaner.

[writing0305]

Baby/pregnancy prompt with Butcher prompt 7 and 10. Just some cute fluffy funny stuff during about the readers pregnancy. 💖

Baby.

Pairing: Billy Butcher x F!Reader.

Summary: You are pregnant with Butcher's son and he is extremely protective of you. So protective that he doesn't even allow you to put together the furniture in the baby's nursery.

Warning: Swearing. That's it I think?

Propmpts: Pregnancy/ child.

7 - "Go easy. You are carrying my child."

10 - "Well, we both made that baby." - "Don't remind me."

----

Thank you so much for this request!! I love writing dad Butcher so much!!

Billy Butcher was taken with you almost immediately after you joined the boys. You were soft and kind, but still witty with a strong backbone. You two grew close very quickly and for the first time in a very long time, Butcher knew what it was like to be put first in someone’s life.

You adored and loved Butcher. You kept him grounded and gave him a reason to fight. But seven months ago, you gave him a reason to live. It came as a surprise to everyone when Butcher left The Boys and took you with him.

Finding out you were pregnant, and that he was going to be a father, was a turning point in Butcher’s life. Before, he would have died for the cause, but now he couldn’t see himself doing that. He couldn’t see himself leaving behind you or his kid.

He had managed to get help from Grace Mallory with a secure apartment for the two of you. For a few months, you were under witness protection until Victoria Neuman came forward, presenting Butcher with a secure and safe job at the FBSA. It was his ticket to take out supes without putting you or the baby in danger.

Things were good for you and Butcher, and all you had to do now, was wait for the arrival of your son. Never had you seen Butcher so happy and excited for something. Your pregnancy had brought forth a whole new man and you adored every last bit of it.

One morning you were in your son’s blue-painted nursery. Most of his things were already set up and ready for him, but you had bought a few extra things to put in the room. More furniture, toys, and clothes.

You were standing on a step ladder, screwing a hanging bookshelf into the wall. When you heard the front door open, followed by Billy’s heavy footsteps, you sighed softly. He hated it when you did things like this. He hated it when you strained yourself around the apartment. But to him, even standing up was straining yourself too much.

You focused on getting the bookshelf on the wall as you listened to Billy’s footsteps walking down the hallway and stopping in front of the nursery. “Oi, what the bloody hell are you doing?” He questioned.

You glanced at him over your shoulder, offering him a sheepish smile as you shrugged your shoulders. “I bought some things for his nursery.” You replied, even though you knew that wasn’t exactly what he was referring to. He looked like he was about to have a heart attack seeing you on the step ladder.

His gaze drifted over the few boxes and bags of purchased items that lay across the floor and he raised his eyebrows at you. “Some things? By that, you mean the whole fuckin’ store?” He asked as he stepped into the room.

“It’s not that much.” You replied with a shrug of your shoulders as you grabbed a second hanging bookshelf. They were both equally small, meant to only fit a small amount of lightweight books.

Butcher stepped forward when he saw you climb back onto the step ladder again and stretched out to angle the shelf perfectly in line with the first one. “You can’t put those things up yourself, luv.” He argued with a shake of his head.

“Why not?” You asked as you looked down at him with furrowed eyebrows. “I can reach them.” You said as you shrugged your shoulders again.

He sighed as he shook his head again. “Just because you can reach them, ain’t mean you should be putting them up.” He argued as he held a hand out, wanting you to hand him the small shelf.

“Billy, it’s fine.” You sighed with a shake of your head, not handing over the shelf. “I’m fine, he’s fine.” You assured as you placed your free hand against your stomach, offering Butcher a smile

Butcher pursed his lips as he motioned with his hand for you to give him the shelf. “Here, let me do it for you.” He insisted, his voice soft and gentle. He was always cautious around you, as you got further along in your pregnancy and you had absolutely raging hormones that could go from 0 to a fucking blood bath in mere seconds.

You sighed, shoulders slouching as you stared down into his determined hazel eyes. “You’re not letting me do this, are you?” You asked softly as your head tilted to the side.

He pushed his tongue around against the inside of his cheek as he gave you a firm shake of his head. “Not a fuckin’ chance.” He replied.

You let out an overly dramatic sigh as you nodded your head. “Fine.” You huffed as you handed him the shelf, he took it in one hand and pressed the other hand against your waist, his hold secure as you slowly stepped off the ladder.

He took your place and began screwing the shelf securely against the wall. You watched him for a few seconds with your hands resting on your hips. Then the box of the rocking chair caught your attention. You kneeled down and grabbed a boxcutter. Butcher didn’t pay you any attention, thinking you were cutting open smaller items to put together.

He stepped off the ladder when he was done with the shelf and turned to you. His face fell when he saw you putting together the rocking chair. “What the bloody hell are ya doing now?” He asked as he raised his arms up by his side, by now looking done with you.

“Putting together this rocking chair.” You replied with a shrug of your shoulders. “Got it for a fucking bargain and a half.” You informed him as you waved a hand through the air, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Fucking hell, Y/n.” He sighed as he kneeled down on the ground next to you, taking away the large pieces of wood and sharp objects that lay around you.

Your eyebrows furrowed and a frown tugged at your lips as you stared at him. “Not, Billy I can do it.” You whined as you tried to grab the things back from him and both of you almost looked childish as he pushed it all out of your reach.

You huffed as you stared at Butcher, your frown deepening. He sighed and pursed his lips as he stared at you. “Go easy.” He pleaded as he reached out to place a hand on your swollen stomach.“You are carrying my child.” He reminded you. “Let me do this.” He pleaded.

“I’m pregnant, not fragile.” You replied softly as you placed your hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze before you reached out, gripping onto the crib and pulling yourself up with a soft grunt.

“I ain’t takin the fuckin’ risk.” He replied with a shake of his head as he picked up a screwdriver to begin putting together the chair.  “Not with you, or this kid.” He said, pointing the screwdriver up at you and then towards your baby bump. You smiled softly as you stared down at him. You truly found this side of him endearing, even if it sometimes got overbearing how protective he was. “What you smiling about?” He asked as he quirked an eyebrow.

You shrugged your shoulders as your smile grew a little. “I like seeing you this way.” You replied softly as you absentmindedly rubbed your bump.

Butcher stared at you for a second before his gaze diverted down to the rocking chair and his eyebrows furrowed. “What way?” He asked in confusion.

“All protective, all smiley.” You replied softly as you reached your hand out to him. He took your hand and pulled himself up to his feet. While one hand wrapped around your waist, his other free hand rested against your bump, rubbing it softly. “Not looking for a reason to get yourself hurt.” You added softly as you sighed.

“I’ve told ya, I’m done with that shit.” He replied with a shake of his head. He was fine with his office job. Never did he want to go into the field again. Never did he want to be on the front lines of danger again. “I ain’t putting either of you in danger.” He said softly as his gaze flicked down to your stomach.

“I know.” You replied with a nod of your head as you reached up and cupped his cheek, your fingers brushing over his beard.  “Still, it’s nice to see this side of you.” You said softly before standing up on the tips of your toes and pressing a kiss to his lips. He kissed you back, his lips working softly against yours. You pulled away, offering him a pleading smile. “Now, can I help with my baby’s room?” You asked as you quirked an eyebrow.

Butcher pursed his lips as he stared down at you, still rubbing your stomach. “Let me take care of it.” He pleaded softly, his eyebrows slightly knitting together.

You sighed, loosely wrapping both arms around his shoulders. “It’s my baby too you know.” You reminded with a light hearted tone of voice.

"Well, we both made that baby." He replied as he lifted his hand from your stomach and pointed at the bump.

You playfully rolled your eyes and shook your head. "Don't remind me." You muttered with a teasing voice as you took a few steps back, running a hand over your bump.

Butcher’s eyebrows furrowed and his eyes squinted as he stared at you. “Is that regret I hear?” He asked in a lighthearted tone as his head cocked to the side.

You raised your eyebrows, a smile tugging at your lips as you slowly shook your head. “No.” You assured softly as he took a step closer to you again, his hands reaching out to hold onto your hips. “There’s no regret.” You assured him. “Not about you, and not about him.” You said before standing up on the tip of your toes again and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. Butcher tried to deepen the kiss but you pulled away, giving him a shy smile. “I have to pee…” You whispered.

Butcher rolled his eyes as he bit back the smile that tried to tug at his lips. “Way to ruin the mood, luv.” He teased as he pulled away from you.

“Your son thinks my bladder is a trampoline.” You huffed as your lips pouted out into a frown and you turned around, slowly making your way towards the door.

“Should you be wearing those adult diapers?” Butcher questioned, a lopsided smirk tugging at his lips as he stared at you walk away, or as he’d like to comment on, waddled away.

You spun around, giving him a pointed look. “I will fucking kill you.” You warned as you pointed a threatening finger toward him.

Butcher chuckled, putting his hands up in defense. “Just asking.” He replied with a shake of his head. He watched you turn around and waddle out of the room, waiting before he called out after you. “I can go out a buy some.”

“Billy!” You snapped as you reached the bathroom and you could hear his low chuckle coming from the nursery. You let a small smile slip as you shook your head at him.

You and Butcher managed to finish the nursery together. All you were allowed to do was hand him things and put away the new clothes and toys. Most of your time was spent eating pieces of toast with melted butter. After that, you went to take a warm bubble bath and Butcher went to pick up dinner.

When you got out of the bathroom, Butcher had returned and you could smell the warm aroma of pizza coming from the kitchen. You waddled down the hallway, following the smell that made your stomach grumble. “Oh…is that pizza I smell?” You asked as you went into the kitchen.

Butcher let out a breath of amusement as he opened the pizza box. “Got the nose of a fucking police dog you.” He commented with a teasing voice as he wiggled a finger in your direction. He pulled out two plates, handing you one.

Like always, Butcher let you get the first serving, so he stepped back, watching as you placed slices of cheesy pizza on your plate. “I’m starving.” You sighed softly.

Butcher raised an eyebrow at you, his head tilting to the side. “You just had five slices of toast.” He reminded you as a small smile tugged at his lips.

“And now I’m gonna have five slices of pizza.” You replied with a sassy shrug of your shoulders as you returned his smile, taking a big bite of one of the slices already.

“Brought you  a diet coke too.” He informed you as he pointed towards one of the two diet cokes next to the pizza box before he filled his own plate with a few slices of pizza.

“Thank you.” You replied, placing a kiss on his bearded cheek before grabbing your diet coke and heading to the living room. Butcher followed after you and you both made yourselves comfortable on the couch.  You rested your plate on your lap, moaning softly in delight as you ate your pizza. There was a bit of silence between the two of you, but you interrupted it with a sharp gasp when your son kicked you hard and your hand shot down to your stomach. “Oh-”

If you were a supe with super hearing, you would have heard Butcher’s heart drop. He immediately set aside his plate of pizza and turned his attention to you. “What? What is it?” He asked as he placed a protective hand against your stomach.

You gasped as your son began kicking more and more. “He’s kicking a lot right now.” You uttered and Butcher let out a sigh of relief as he briefly closed his eyes. You took hold of his hand and moved it to where your son was kicking.  “Here.” You whispered.

The smallest smile tugged at Butcher’s lips at the feeling of his son’s kicks beneath the palm of his hand. “Fuck…I’ll never get over this feeling.” He whispered softly. You let out a grunt as the tiny kicks on one spot started to become sore. Butcher gave you a worried look before turning to your stomach, rubbing soothing circles against the spot. “Alright lad, calm down.”  He spoke softly to your bump. “You kick and your mum gets pissy with me.” He teased.

“I will throw you with a slice of pizza.” You warned Butcher with a pointed side eyes as you picked up a slice of pizza as a threat.

Butcher scoffed in amusement as he pulled away and sat back in his seat. “We both know you ain’t wasting a good fucking slice of pizza.” He said as he pointed a finger down at your pizza.

You rolled your eyes, knowing he was right. “Fine.” You huffed with a shake of your head. “I’ll throw you with something else.” You told him.

Butcher’s gaze shot down towards your stomach. “See what I mean?” He asked your bump as he quirked an eyebrow.

You huffed, placing a hand over your stomach as you scowled at Butcher. “Billy, you’re asking for it.” You warned him and he let out another chuckle.

He finished his food first and put his plate down on the coffee table before he turned to you. “Wanna put a movie on?” He asked as he raised his eyebrows at you.

“Yeah.” You replied with a nod of your head as you munched on your pizza. “Let’s watch something scary.” You suggested and the two of you shared a smile. You had both always been suckers for scary movies and it was one of the many interests you shared.

Butcher put on a movie before shifting on the couch, getting into a comfortable position of half lying and half sitting. “Come here.” He called out as he spread his arm out and you set your pate aside as you scooted back, laying against his side as his arm wrapped around you and his hand protectively rested against your bump.

[gadriezmannsgirl]

Dating Pedri González Would Include...

Dating this guy is being in a roller coaster, in a good way

You met him on a clothing shop, casually walking with your girl friend when he walked behind you and tripped causing him to step on your back heel pulling your shoe out.

"Puta madre, joder, I'm so sorry"

"...They were white"

"I'll buy you new ones"

"Nah, don't worry. I'll just give them a wash and all good"

The moment you smiled at him and not yelled at his face for his mistake, he fell for you.

You knew who he was but you also knew he was just another normal human being who was really good playing your favorite sport and outside the pitch he was just Pedro.

But still commented he should always be careful, look around and not only on the pitch with a smile on

"You know me?" He asked as you laughed lightly

"But you're also funny" You laughed "Kind of forgot who you are?" He shook his head still amazed by you

"Pedro González" He shyly said as you smiled

"Y/N Y/L/N" And with that you left

He searched up for you everywhere.

TikTok, Twitter, Instagram... You name it, he searched for you and he found you.

@ pedri asked to follow you

You smiled and accepted him

And ever since that day, he texted you daily, he found ways to connect with you, a friendship was born and later on, your relationship.

The amount of love this man has for you it's not countable.

He often uses Lightyear's phrase when you ask him how much he loves you: To the infinity and beyond

He's just deeply in love with you.

Talked about you to his parents.

And when you finally met them they instantly loved you. Rosy was happy she got you as the daughter she never had. And Fernando was happy his son was happy and in good hands.

Going to his matches with the 8 on your back, supporting him.

Having inside home dates and them being the best ones ever.

He L-O-V-E-S spoiling you.

He would gift you a bracelette with P.G8 in your three months anniversary, since that day you've never taken it off.

You on the other hand give him a black bracelette too with your initial and a football ball. He only takes it off when he plays.

Your parents love him and he loves them.

Whlist driving he would definitely have his hands with yours or on your thigh

Singing at the top of your lungs while he drives. Also being the DJ, often playing Quevedo, Rosalía and Taylor Swift

Car rides towards nowhere, just driving the two of you during midnight for late night McDonald's or the ones where you go to the beach or a little 2 days vacation.

Talking about driving.

He would and would not like to teach you how to drive.

He would because you look absolutely gorgeous in, with and doing everything. And he also would want you to drive him around sometimes. And he wouldn't because he loves driving you around and also he's afraid for the three of your lives. Your, his and his cars.

Either way, after lots of begging, he would accept.

Teaching you should be both a really good and bad memory together, laughing, spending good time with each other and at the same time he's shitting himself for both of your lives

"LOOK AT THE ROAD!" "I'M LOOKING!"

Fights like every other couple, but you both eventually calm down for a while and fix the problem.

He can get jealous, if he's feeling intimidated. Quickly showing everyone, who you belonged to. But he trusts you with his life.

You trust him too, but get jealous as well and mostly when there are some girls who ignore your existence and just shamessly flirt with him.

You can't believe their audacity.

You also know he doesn't have eyes for any other girl but you. He has let you know that and doesn't mind reminding you who he belongs to sometimes.

With sweet words, acts and you know...

He lives for making you happy.

"Pap-I mean... Pepi"

"Y/N"

You are best friends and lovers at the same time.

Everyone loves your relationship.

INSIDE JOKES

You could be out with the team or family

When Fer (mostly) says something and it reminds you both to something, expect you both crying in laughter and face fully red not being able to explain yourselves.

Fer hates when that happens but secretly he loves the fact his brother found his person.

His hand is in yours all the time.

He just loves grabbing your hand in his. Playing with your fingers calms him down.

Meanwhile you, play with his ring to calm yourself down.

You also love leaning into his chest, it's just so big, perfect and strong that you wanna lay there for the rest of your lives.

He would try and help you with homework but the second he saw the amount of calculations, laws and unknown words he got up.

"You get into it, I'll make you some food amd cheer for you"

He would share his food with you, surprising everyone in his house. Especially Fer

You looked at his plate and pocked his bicep a few times making him look at you "¿Qué pasa?" "Your chips look better than mine, can I have one?" He smiled kissing you softly "Las que quieras, bonita" He grabbed two "Venga, here comes the airplane"

When Fer tried it wasn't the same result tho

"Heyheyhey, what do you think you're doing?" "Grabbing a chip?" "No"

You would be the type of private but not secret couple.

Definitely being seen around sometimes, mostly in his car.

But no one knew your private life since all of your social medias were private.

His true fans, love you and love the fact you make their golden boy happy.

The guys teasing him as they see Pedri being whipped.

But they were happy for him that he found you.

He's happy that he found you. And he wants to have you by his side forever.

And you want him forever too.

Who knew a stranger in a clothing shop who pulled your shoe out would end up being the love of your life?

Expect a relationship full of love, laughs and joy.

So, like I said in the beggining. Dating Pedri is to put roller coaster mode on, in the best way possible.

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Taglist: @gaviypedrisbride @stuckinaf4nfiction @elijahslover @azzpenswrld