#Diana is my way of expressing how tired i feel

[scribblediana]

Long day at Luna Nova

[lvmoure]

But Daddy, I Love Him CS55

Summary: In the youngest child of King Charles II and late Princess Diana of Wales fell for an F1 driver, and is willing to do anything just to be with him.

Warnings: slight angst and rebellion.

You want nothing but to escape from the royal protocols that your family have set.

You are a lot of things: classy, smart, beautiful, elegant, and also, away from the eye of many, you are nothing but a rebel. Growing up in a dysfunctional family where your brothers seem perfect, life is nothing but complicated. It becomes even more complicated when your older brother, Harry, decides to live away from everyone with his wife, Meghan. You feel the weight of expectation in Buckingham Palace, where every action is scrutinized and every misstep could lead to scandal. You yearn for freedom, for a life beyond the gilded cage of royalty.

It’s a rainy Thursday afternoon, and the clouds outside your window reflect the turmoil inside. The dark sky looms over the palace like an ominous reminder of your frustrations. You sit on your bed, staring at the opulent walls adorned with portraits of ancestors, wondering if any of them ever felt trapped in their roles. Your heart pounds in your chest, a constant reminder of the fight brewing inside you.

“Why can’t you just act like a proper lady?” your father’s voice booms from the hallway, pulling you from your thoughts.

You can hear him pacing outside your door, his footsteps heavy and deliberate. “You’re a princess, for heaven’s sake! This isn’t a game!”

You stand up, your anger boiling over. You open the door, your resolve hardening as you face him. “This isn’t about being a princess, Dad! It’s about being myself!” Your voice trembles slightly, betraying the intensity of your emotions.

He turns to you, his expression a mix of exasperation and disappointment. “Being yourself is exactly what got you into trouble last time. You can’t just run off to… to some racing event with that Sainz boy! It’s unbecoming.”

“Unbecoming?” you scoff, crossing your arms defiantly. “What’s unbecoming is pretending to be someone I��m not. I’m tired of this charade. I want to live my life!”

He steps closer, towering over you, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone. “And what kind of life do you think you can have? You’re throwing away everything—your title, your future—for a whim. For a boy!”

“Carlos is not just a boy! He’s passionate, driven, and he understands me in a way you never will!” Your heart races, but you refuse to back down.

“Passionate? Driven? Those are just words to romanticize what he is—a reckless race car driver! You think this is some fairytale?” His voice rises, echoing in the grand hallway, and the walls seem to close in on you.

“Maybe I don’t want a fairytale, Dad! Maybe I want to create my own story!” You take a step back, your breath quickening, realizing how far the argument has escalated. The tears threaten to spill, but you blink them away, determined to stay strong.

He runs a hand through his hair, frustration etched on his face. “You are a princess! You have responsibilities, expectations! You can’t just abandon them!”

“Maybe I don’t want to be a princess anymore!” you shout, the words escaping before you can stop them. Silence hangs between you like a taut wire, both of you breathing heavily, the weight of unspoken words lingering in the air.

He studies you for a moment, disappointment flashing in his eyes. “If you leave, don’t expect to come back. This family doesn’t tolerate such behavior.”

Your heart sinks, the threat echoing in your mind, but the fire of rebellion burns brighter. “Maybe I’ll take my chances.” You turn on your heel and storm down the hall, the echo of your footsteps reverberating through the palace like a drumbeat of defiance.

As you grab a small bag, you throw in a few essentials—clothes, your phone, and a picture of Carlos you keep tucked away. The thought of leaving fills you with both fear and exhilaration. You pause at the door, your heart racing as you glance back at the life you’re about to abandon.

With one last deep breath, you step out into the rain-soaked streets of London, the cold air invigorating. Each step takes you further from the constraints of your title and closer to the life you’ve always dreamed of—one filled with passion and freedom.

Days pass, and you find yourself standing on the sun-kissed shores of Mallorca. The salty breeze tousles your hair as you sit on the warm sand, staring out at the turquoise waves crashing against the shore. You left everything behind: the palace, your family, the expectations. You made the choice to find solace in the sun, but it feels like a band-aid over a deeper wound.

Carlos, with his warm brown eyes and infectious smile, had always been a light in the dark. It was his idea to meet here, a promise he made to show you the world beyond royal duties. As you watch the horizon, you remember the first time you met him at a charity event, his passion for racing sparking something inside you that you never knew existed.

Suddenly, you hear his voice, and you turn to see him approaching. “There you are! I thought I’d lost you to the sea,” he teases, his smile lighting up his face.

You smile back, feeling the weight of your past lift slightly in his presence. “Just contemplating life and my terrible decisions,” you say, trying to sound light-hearted.

“Hey, every decision leads us somewhere, right? At least we’re here now.” He gestures to the beach, and you can’t help but feel a rush of warmth at his optimism.

“Yeah, here. Away from everything,” you reply, your voice trailing off as you recall the argument with your father.

Carlos sits beside you, his presence comforting. “Is everything okay? You seem… distant.”

You sigh, looking out at the waves. “It’s just hard to let go of everything. My family… they expect so much from me.”

“You don’t owe them anything. You’re allowed to be who you want to be.” His words are gentle, yet they cut through the chaos in your mind. You turn to him, your heart racing.

“But what if who I want to be isn’t what they want? What if I’m just throwing everything away for nothing?”

“Nothing? You’re not throwing anything away. You’re chasing what makes you happy. And if that’s me, then I’ll do everything to make it worth it.” His sincerity makes your heart flutter, and you feel the connection between you deepen.

As the sun sets, casting a golden glow over the island, you realize how much you longed for this kind of connection. “What if this is just a summer fling? What if you go back to racing and forget all about me?” The fear creeps in, but you push it down, not wanting to ruin the moment.

Carlos takes your hand, his grip firm yet gentle. “Then I’ll race back to you. No matter what, I won’t forget you. You’re not just some fling to me.” His eyes hold a promise, and for the first time, you feel hopeful.

That week, you explore the island together—dancing under the stars, sharing stories, and laughing until your sides hurt. Each moment feels like a stolen treasure, a world away from the palace. But as the days pass, the looming thought of returning home creeps into your mind, a shadow over your newfound happiness.

The week has come to an end, and you find yourself at a quaint café overlooking the Mediterranean. The sun rises slowly, casting a warm light that contrasts with the storm brewing in your heart. Carlos sits across from you, sipping his coffee, a content smile gracing his lips. You want to capture this moment forever, to freeze time in this perfect bubble.

But the bubble is about to burst. Your phone buzzes, a message from your father breaking the serene atmosphere. You read it, and your stomach drops. “Come home. It’s time to face your responsibilities.”

You set the phone down, feeling the weight of the message like a boulder on your chest. “I can’t go back,” you whisper, panic rising.

Carlos looks concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s my father. He’s demanding I come back to the palace. I can’t bear to face him after everything.”

“Don’t you want to talk to him? Maybe he’s just worried.” He reaches out, but you pull away, the thought of facing your family unbearable.

“Worried? Or controlling? He’ll never understand. I feel like I’m suffocating in that place.” Tears brim in your eyes as the emotions flood over you.

“Then let’s not go back,” Carlos says fiercely. “We can stay here. We can make a life together away from all that.”

You shake your head, feeling the weight of reality. “I can’t run forever, Carlos. My father will always find me.” You realize with a sinking heart that this paradise can’t last forever.

The conversation grows heated, both of you struggling to find a solution. “You have to fight for what you want,” he pleads, desperation creeping into his voice. “Don’t give up on us.”

“It’s not that simple! My family… they have expectations. I can’t just turn my back on them.” The thought of your father’s disappointment stabs at your heart, but the idea of losing Carlos cuts deeper.

“Then you need to stand up for yourself. Tell him how you feel.”

You pause, considering his words. “What if he doesn’t care? What if he just wants to control me?”

Carlos reaches for your hand, holding it tightly. “You

won’t know until you try. You deserve to be happy, and I want to help you fight for that happiness.” His eyes are fierce with determination, and you feel a spark of hope igniting within you.

But the reality of your situation weighs heavily on your heart. “I don’t know if I can go back and face him,” you admit, tears spilling down your cheeks.

“Then we’ll face it together. I’ll be right by your side.” His warmth envelops you, and for a moment, you believe him.

But then reality crashes in. You know what you must do. “I have to go back, Carlos,” you say softly, pulling your hand away. “I can’t abandon my family, no matter how hard it is.”

The decision hangs in the air, and you can see the hurt in Carlos’s eyes. “I understand. But it doesn’t mean it’s easy.” His voice trembles slightly, the pain evident.

“I wish things were different,” you murmur, your heart breaking as you stand up, ready to leave the paradise you’ve found.

As you walk away, every step feels heavier, and you can’t shake the feeling of loss that grips you. Carlos’s figure fades into the background as you board the plane back to London, leaving behind a piece of your heart in Mallorca.

Back in Buckingham Palace, the weight of reality crashes down like a heavy fog. You wear a smile for the cameras and the public, but inside, you feel like a ghost drifting through the hallways. The opulence feels suffocating, and every laugh shared with your family feels hollow. They celebrate your return, oblivious to the turmoil raging inside you.

Each day, the longing for Carlos grows, filling the empty spaces where happiness used to reside. You replay every moment from your week in Mallorca, from the gentle caress of the ocean breeze to the warmth of his hand in yours. The memories haunt you, and the loneliness settles in your heart like a cold stone.

One evening, you find yourself wandering the gardens, the moonlight casting a soft glow over the flowers. The beauty of the night contrasts sharply with your inner turmoil. You stop by the fountain, the sound of water soothing yet haunting.

Your father’s voice echoes in your mind, reminding you of the responsibilities you’ve shunned. You should be grateful for everything, yet all you feel is regret. “Why can’t you just be what we want you to be?” he had said, and the words sting like a whip.

You sink to the ground, tears spilling as you realize the truth—you cannot live a life dictated by others. You want to fight for your love, to reclaim the happiness you’ve tasted with Carlos.

“I can’t keep living this way,” you whisper to the night, your heart racing with determination. “I won’t lose him.”

The decision crystallizes in your mind: you will leave again, this time for good. You’ll fight for the life you want, for the love you’ve found. The fear that had held you back shatters, replaced by an unyielding resolve.

As dawn breaks, you pack a small bag once more, your heart pounding with the thrill of rebellion. You leave a note for your family, knowing they may never understand, but this time, you don’t care. You are doing this for yourself.

The flight to Mallorca feels like an eternity, your heart racing with anticipation. You step off the plane, the warm breeze washing over you, carrying the scent of the sea and memories of laughter. The familiar landscape unfolds before you, each corner reminding you of the moments you cherished with Carlos.

You find him at the same café, his laughter echoing through the air as he chats with a group of friends. When he sees you, his face lights up with a mixture of surprise and joy, and in that moment, everything else fades away.

“Is that really you?” he asks, disbelief evident in his voice. “I thought I lost you for good.” You run to him, throwing your arms around him, the warmth of his embrace grounding you. “I came back. I had to fight for us,” you breathe, tears of relief streaming down your cheeks. Carlos pulls back, searching your eyes for the truth. “You mean it? You really want this?”

“Yes! I want you, Carlos. I want this life, the one I choose for myself. No more hiding, no more running.” You take a deep breath, the weight of the world lifting off your shoulders.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmurs, cupping your face in his hands. “I was worried you’d change your mind.”

“Never. I’ve spent too long trying to be someone I’m not. I want to embrace who I am, and that includes you.” You lean in, and he captures your lips with his, a kiss that seals the promise of a future together.

For the next few days, you immerse yourself in the vibrant life of Mallorca, exploring the island hand in hand. You learn more about racing, his passion igniting something within you. You share your dreams and fears, building a bond stronger than ever.

But then, the day comes when Carlos must leave for a race. As you stand on the balcony, watching him pack, a wave of sadness washes over you. “You’ll come back, right?” you ask, the uncertainty creeping in.

“Of course! I’ll always come back to you,” he promises, wrapping you in his arms. “Just remember, you’re the reason I push harder on the track. You give me strength.” As he leaves, you feel a mix of pride and longing. You have finally found your voice, your path, and love. But you know that this journey has only just begun.

Months pass, and you find yourself at peace with your choices. You’ve forged a life away from the palace, pursuing your passions alongside Carlos. The connection you share deepens, built on trust and understanding.

Finally, the day comes when you stand before your father again, ready to confront the past. You’ve made your decision; you want to forgive him and seek a relationship based on honesty.

“Dad, I want to talk,” you say, your voice steady as you approach him in the gardens. He looks up, surprise etched on his face. “You’re back from your… adventures.”

“I want to understand. I want us to move forward, but I need you to understand me too.” The words come rushing out, a torrent of emotions spilling over.

Your father’s expression softens, and for the first time, you see the regret in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to push you away. I just wanted to protect you.”

“I know. But I need you to let me be myself,” you reply, your heart open. “I want to find my own path, and I want you to support that.”

As the conversation unfolds, you both find common ground. There’s healing in vulnerability, and slowly, you rebuild the bridge between you.

A few months later, you stand in a sun-drenched chapel surrounded by friends and family, your heart pounding with excitement. Carlos stands at the altar, his eyes full of love and determination.

As you walk down the aisle, your father by your side, you feel a sense of peace. You’ve embraced your past, and you’re ready to step into the future. You take Carlos’s hand, and in that moment, you know you’ve chosen the right path.

The vows you exchange are a promise not just to each other but to yourself: to love fiercely, to fight for your happiness, and to always remain true to who you are.

As you seal your vows with a kiss, the future stretches before you—unpredictable, thrilling, and entirely yours.

[taurasiluvr]

how you can help palestine

★ thinking about diana taurasi putting you in your place... kinda inspired by sen's strap headcanons @taurasiluv

 ⠀ ── ⠀warnings ;; nsfw under the cut, mdni. brat taming (my fav!!!), slapping, degradation, mommy kink (it's a dee smut, what do you expect?)

 ⠀ ── ⠀word count ;; 1.1k

 ⠀ ── ⠀rylin's notes ;; requests are open for those who want to send them in :p

"didn't i tell you to cut the fucking attitude?" diana's voice rang out the kitchen, causing you to let out an irritated sigh. you paused, gripping the edge of the counter as you tried to steady your nerves.

"dee, 'm not a kid. you can't talk to me like that," you shot back, trying to keep your voice even. diana walked into the living room, her tall frame filling the doorway. she was still in her practice gear, her face glistening with sweat.

"yeah, i know you're not. you're acting a brat, and i don't like it." she replied, her tone assertive. she opened a water bottle, chugging it slowly. you took the moment to take in your girlfriend; all of her.

you rolled your eyes and turned around, going back to cutting up some fruit. "maybe i wouldn't act like a brat if you actually paid attention to me," you muttered under your breath, knowing full well she'd hear.

diana raised an eyebrow, setting the water bottle down. "what was that, baby?" she crossed her arms, watching you intently.

"nothing," you grumbled, deciding to really test her patience right now.

"no, you wanna act all big and and tough, let's hear it," diana said, stepping closer.

"i told you, nothing,"

you ignored the calls of your name as you walked toward your shared bedroom, letting the annoyance take over. diana walked in the bedroom behind you, her expression now pissed.

"don't walk away from me when we're talking," she said, her voice low and controlled, but you could feel the anger simmering beneath.

you spun around to face her, your own frustration boiling over. "what's there to talk about, dee? you're never here! i'm tired of feeling like an afterthought."

diana's eyes narrowed. "so that's what this is is about? and this is how you deal with it? by throwing a tantrum like a child?"

"well i-"

"no, i'm still talking." she repeated as your face contorted into irritation. "first of all, fix your fuckin' face. and this whole thing is because you're needy? cause you haven't had a good fuck in a while?"

you clenched your fists, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. diana's blunt words cut deep, but there was a part of you that couldn't deny the truth in them. you needed her, and the lack of attention had been gnawing at you.

"fine," she sighed as she slammed the door shut. "get on the bed, sweetheart."

you looked stunned as diana just kept glaring at you. "you wanna act all shy now, baby?"

you let out a breathe before obeying her, sitting on the bed as diana walked over toward you. she grabbed your face tightly, forcing you to look upward. her eyes bore into yours, a mix of anger and desire flickering in them at you being so submissive.

"you're not gonna pull that bratty attitude with me anymore, got it?" she said, her voice low and commanding.

you nodded, unable to find your voice. the intensity of her gaze, the way her fingers dug into your cheeks, sent a shiver down your spine. she let go of your face before landing a swift slap to your cheek, a moan coming out of your lips at the sting.

"i asked you something," she demanded, her hand finding your face again, her grip tightening slightly. "do you understand?"

"yes," you managed to whisper, your voice trembling.

"yes, what?" she prompted, leaning closer so her breath fanned across your lips.

"yes, mommy," you replied, your voice barely audible.

"good," she said, releasing your face and stepping back slightly. "now strip. wanna see you naked."

your heart pounded in your chest as you complied, your hands shaking slightly as you undressed. diana watched you intently, her eyes dark with desire. she turned around as well, rummaging through your drawer before finding her strap. she slipped it on quickly before she turned to face you once again.

once you were completely bare, you stood there, feeling vulnerable under her intense gaze. she stepped closer again, her hand trailing down your arm, sending goosebumps in its wake.

without another word, her hand gripped your head before she gestured to her strap. her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catchm as you nodded slowly, opening your mouth, you leaned forward, taking her in.

diana's other hand tangled in your hair, holding you steady as you began to move, your lips and tongue working to please her. she let out a low groan, the sound sending a thrill through you. you looked up at her, meeting her gaze, her expression a mix of dominance and desire.

"that's it, baby," she murmured, her voice rough with arousal. "just like that."

you continued, your movements becoming more confident as you found a rhythm. diana's grip on your hair tightened slightly, guiding you as you took more of her in. the taste and feel of the strap filled your senses, and you felt a rush of heat between your legs, your own arousal building.

after a few moments, diana pulled you back, her eyes dark with need. "on the bed," she commanded, her voice leaving no room for hesitation.

you obeyed, crawling onto the bed and positioning yourself on your hands and knees, your body trembling with anticipation. diana moved behind you, her hands running over your back and down to your hips, her touch somehow both possessive and gentle.

"you're going to take everything i give you," she said, her voice low and commanding. "understand?"

"yes, mommy," you replied, your voice breathless with need.

she positioned herself at your entrance, teasing you for a moment before pushing in slowly, filling you completely. you moaned, your body arching as you adjusted to the sensation. diana held your hips firmly, setting a steady pace that quickly had you gasping for breath.

she landed a couple slaps to your ass, causing a string of curses and moans to leave your mouth.

"fucking brat," she growled, her movements becoming more intense. "say it, say you're mine."

"'m yours," you managed to gasp, your body responding eagerly to her every thrust. "'m yours, dee."

the pleasure built quickly, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. diana's grip on your hips tightened, her own breathing becoming ragged as she drove you toward release.

when you finally came, it was with a cry of pure ecstasy, your body shuddering with the force of your orgasm. she pulled out gently, collapsing beside you on the bed and pulling you into her arms. you lay there together, both of you catching your breath, the intensity of the moment slowly giving way to a feeling of deep contentment.

"did i fuck all that attitude outta you now, baby?" diana managed to say as you let out a breathless laugh.

"mhm, yeah. you did," you replied.

if you enjoyed, any interaction is greatly appreciated!

with love, rylin 𝜗𝜚

[mopopshop]

headcannons about taurasi when reader and her are arguing , angst, possible smut 👀

Lost Love

Summary: DT’s late practices are straining her marriage to Aniyah (reader). As loneliness and unspoken words drive apart, both must confront their unraveling relationship and search for a way back to each other.

y’all this might be too angsty honestly LMAO but i’m actually kinda proud of it😓🙏🏾

send more requests!! i’m gonna close them after tomorrow

It’s once again another late night, alone, sad, and in the dark.

Diana’s practices have been getting later and later these past few weeks. You’ve tried to be understanding, tried to support her as best as you can. After all, you knew what you were signing up for when you married a professional athlete. But tonight, it feels like the loneliness has swallowed you whole.

When you finally hear the sound of keys jangling at the door, you sit up, your heart heavy with a mix of anticipation and dread. Diana steps in, looking exhausted and barely acknowledging your presence. 

"Hey," she mumbles, dropping her bag by the door.

"Hey," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. "Another late night."

She shrugs, not meeting your eyes. "Yeah, practice ran over. Again."

There’s a tension in the air, thick and palpable. You’ve had this conversation too many times before, and yet, here you are again, hoping for a different outcome.

"D, we need to talk," you start, your voice trembling slightly.

"About what?" she snaps, her tone sharper than intended. "I’m tired, okay? Can we do this later?"

"No, we can’t," you say, standing your ground. "We’ve been putting this off for too long. I’m tired too, D. Tired of feeling like I’m not a priority in your life."

Her eyes finally meet yours, and you see a flicker of guilt before she hardens her expression. "You knew what this was when we got together. This is my career. This is important."

"And what about us?" you ask, your voice breaking. "Aren’t we important? I— I am your wife for christ’s sake! 

She sighs, running a hand over her face. "Yeah I fuckin’ know that. I’m the one who goddamn proposed to you Niyah-“

"But it doesn't feel like it anymore!" you shout, cutting her off. The dam of your pent-up frustration and hurt bursts open. "You act like your career is the only thing that fucking matters! When was the last time we had a real conversation? When was the last time you actually listened to me?"

Diana's eyes flash with anger. "I am doing everything I can! Do you think I wanna- wanna come home to this? You think I enjoy arguing with you? Being yelled at after practice? I’m working my ass off every damn day to support us, babe. I'm giving it my all out there!

"And what about in here?" you counter, pointing to the space between you. "What about giving your all to this marriage? I feel like I'm just an inconvenience to you now, D. Like I'm something you have to deal with instead of someone you want to be with."

She shakes her head, her jaw tight. "That's not fair. You know how demanding this job is. You knew it from the start."

"Knowing it and living it are two different things," you say, tears welling up in your eyes. "I can't keep pretending that everything's okay when it's not. I can't keep sitting here every night, wondering if you'll even remember to come home."

Diana throws her hands up in exasperation. "What do you want from me, Niyah? To quit? To give up everything I've worked for?"

"I want you to fight for us as hard as you fight on that court!" you cry, your voice trembling. "I want to feel like I matter to you, like I'm not just some fuckin’ second thought."

Diana clenches her fists, moving closer so now the two of you are yelling inches apart. "You're not a second thought," she insists, but the conviction in her voice wavers. "But I can't drop everything for you. I can't just walk away from my career."

"I'm not asking you to walk away," you reply, your tone desperate. "I'm asking you to find a balance. To show me that you care. To make some time for us, for me."

Diana's eyes narrow, her frustration boiling over. "Balance? You think that's easy? Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep up with everything? To stay at the top of my game? I can't just turn it off when I come home!"

"And I can't just turn off my feelings!" you shout back, shoving her lightly. "Every night, I'm here waiting, hoping you'll walk through that door and actually see me. But jesus D, it's like I'm invisible to you.”

You turn down the hallway, stalking towards your room as Diana follows you. 

“D, don’t fuckin’ follow me I’m done with this shit and I’m tired” you say exasperatedly and huff your way into a sitting position on the bed, trying to speak over her

"No! I am gonna follow you and I am gonna keep talking ‘cause that shit you just said isn’t  true, Niyah," she says, her voice rising. "I do see you. But I can't always be here. I have responsibilities, commitments. This is my life!"

"And what about our life?" you counter, your voice trembling with anger and hurt. "What about the promises we made to each other? Does any of that matter to you anymore?"

Diana looks away, the conflict in her eyes clear. "Of course it matters," she mutters, but the words sound hollow.

"Then why does it feel like you're choosing everything else over us?" you ask, your voice breaking. "I need you, Diana. I need you to be present, to be here. Not just physically, but emotionally."

She takes a deep breath, her frustration palpable. "I genuinely don't know what you want from me, Niyah. I'm doing the best I can."

"Your best isn't enough!" you shout, the words hanging in the air like a final blow. "I need more. We need more."

Diana's face hardens, her eyes flashing with anger. "And I need you to understand that I can't always give more. This is my career, my dream. I can't sacrifice that."

"And I can't keep sacrificing my happiness," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "I love you, D… I love you so so much— but I can't keep living like this. Feeling like I'm always waiting for you to remember that I exist."

The silence that follows is deafening, the weight of your words settling heavily between you. Diana's shoulders slump, the fight seeming to drain out of her.

"I don't know how to fix this," she finally says, her voice low and strained. "I don't know if I can."

"Neither do I," you admit, tears streaming down your face. "But something has to change, Diana. We can't keep going on like this."

Diana looks at you, her expression a mixture of pain and resignation. "Maybe... maybe we need some space. To figure things out. To see if this can even work."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, but deep down, you know she's right. "Yeah," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe you should go."

Diana nods slowly, the decision weighing heavily on both of you. She turns and heads toward the bedroom door, pausing briefly as if to say something, but the words never come. Instead, she grabs a few essentials and heads back to the living room to gather her things.

As she leaves, the sound of the door closing behind her feels final, like a chapter ending in your life. You sit on the edge of the bed, the tears flowing freely now. The loneliness you've been feeling these past few weeks intensifies, and the emptiness of the house seems to swallow you whole.

You lie down, curling into a ball as the sobs wrack your body. The bed feels too big, too cold without her. You clutch the pillow where her scent still lingers, but it offers little comfort.

The silence is deafening, broken only by your muffled cries. You lie there, heartbroken and alone, wondering how it all came to this and if there will ever be a way to bridge the gap that's grown between you and the woman you love.

———

[profoundnightwinner]

i know you’re likely to find this offensive considering the tone you’ve used to respond to similar criticisms, but i genuinely mean no disrespect when i say: liam payne wasn’t a celebrity first, he was a person. i understand why princess diana had the funeral and public mourning that she did, though i think an argument could be made for the fact that she never wanted to be a part of the royal family and therefore, it could be assumed that she likely wouldn’t have loved being mourned the way royal family members are—but she’s a different person and that’s a different situation.

i think it’s been really lovely to see all the memorials popping up for liam and group events that have been held for fans to express their grief with each other. i think it’s also been really nice to see how many heartfelt posts and statements have been made about him, from fans, colleagues, and family members alike. but liam’s funeral is for his loved ones. it is not for anyone who thinks they’re entitled to his family’s grief because they loved his music. privacy is such a gift, and for someone who was torn apart in the public eye so aggressively, i think it’s important that he’s given that gift at his own funeral at least. i think what you’re advocating for is pretty disturbing, and the way you’ve responded to people who’ve said similarly has seemed pretty inappropriate. i’m sure you’ll respond the same way to this, calling me a bitch and critiquing my reading comprehension, but i read every word love, and you’re just in the wrong here. think about if it was you, and maybe the criticism wouldn’t be so befuddling. leaving anon off so you’re welcome to block or speak further if you’d wish.

all the best <3

I am not advocating anything, that's the thing.

I resent being told what I can and cannot want. And there has been so much of that, both in this fandom and on the Internet at large.

You think a private funeral would be best. And I can see your point.

But that is not what I *want*.

Do you understand the difference?

(Not critizing your reading comprehension. *g*)

Do you realize that critizing people for wanting something that is perfectly natural, wanting to say goodbye to a loved one, is wrong? It is simply human nature.

Princess Diana was also a person first, before she was a celebrity. *Every* celebrity is a person first, before they are a celebrity.

(Oh, and Diana would have loved that funeral, mark my words. *g*)

I am not saying anyone is entitled to anything. I am saying the exact opposite. *You* (*nobody*) are entitled to tell anyone what they are allowed to want.

The fandom police/the thought police wants to tell us all how to think, how to feel, that it is wrong to have wants and interests.

It is *okay* to have wants. It is *okay* to have your interest in a matter diverge from someone else's, even if it is someone you respect.

You have to ask yourself—the people who posted that, if they had received an invitation, would they have gone?

I am not advocating anything. I was peacefully minding my own business on the matter when that video started circulating and suddenly there were even more posts going around.

And I am just so incredibly tired of that kind of performative whining. It does no good and does in fact do a great deal of harm (look at the recent election) and it gaslights people into thinking that having a simple wish or want is somehow wrong.

Beloved public figures sometimes get a big public send-off.

There is no harm in quietly, peacefully, respectfully wanting something like that.

We need to stop letting people take our humanity away.

It is only the inhuman ones that want us to stop wanting.

[spaceorphan18]

Have you read the latest script of K&J's podcast about the Michael episode? I'm very interested in hearing your thoughts. They were talking about Jenna acting out and being forced to take time off. And they mentioned being upset because other people were acting out and getting storylines or being given time off to do other things. The later one is def about D since he went to do the musical but I can't believe he would act out for that, it's like totally OOC.

Same anon as before as I was just finishing to read the script. They did indeed talk about Darren being written off and I'm debating if I should listen this time because the way it's written they seem very jealous of him. I'm getting upset by just reading this. So I'm still very curious about your thoughts about it if and when you have the chance to read/listen to it.

I actually figured you guys were all tired of my opinions, lol.

Yes, I did kind of skim the transcript this morning because I saw people talking about it and was curious. And, I have a lot of complicated feelings about the whole thing.

First of all, though, I say this with love to all the Blaine and Darren fans out there -- Kevin and Jenna are never going to be able to be objective when doing this podcast. I keep thinking about all the other rewatch podcasts I listen to, and how all of them - even when discussing things that were hard to go through and/or things that weren't that great with the show - have a level of decorum that Kevin and Jenna just do not have. I do not know why they began this podcast, but digging into the show on a media analysis level just is not where their talents lie.

(Also, I don't think they love Glee the way those other podcasters genuinely love their show and that just colors how they see things. I'll get more into this in a moment...)

And I get that it's frustrating. Believe me, I do. There are plenty of Kurt things they do not talk about that drive me nuts. But at the same time, I feel like the 'recaps' have boiled down to praising Naya, Amber, and themselves; commentating on whatever BTS stuff comes up, and discussing shit on TikTok. I'm not sure why they're even bothering with the 'recaps', tbh.

But guys - if this podcast is upsetting you, if you're finding yourself this anxious or mad or whatever -- it's time to stop. They're not going to change how they do things, and at this point, I'm not entirely sure what you're waiting for from them? Maybe it's time to stop hate listening <3 <3

***

As for the acting out -- I think a lot of the cast probably did. I'm sure Lea was a terror to work with at times. I'm sure Mark probably wasn't easy either. I know Naya spoke up on a lot of things -- though the producers didn't take as much issue with her until the Season 5 drama. Chris was pretty vocal about choices with his character. I can imagine Amber being just as frustrated with Mercedes' lack of anything to do. Didn't Heather say she kept it all inward? And what about Diana who really seems to not ever want to talk about Glee again?

So - who knows what acting out means, tbh.

Keeping all of this in context -- this cast was very tired by the time Season 3 came around. There were too many characters to service, they keep adding ones in, and they were all very young. (And for those of you who are experiencing your early 20s right now? I hate to say this to you -- but you are all still very young.) Added on the fact that the producers clearly did not understand their mental health needs (as evident about how apologetic Ryan Murphy seems to be about all of it) you get a lot of young people expressing their frustration in a lot of different ways over a lot of different things.

I think that Jenna has some very, very complicated feelings about the show -- and in particular about this era because this is where she had a rather big break down. You know what, I do feel for her, because I can see where she's coming from. I can't imagine - feeling like you're tied to a job where everyone around you seems to be getting a better deal than you, and you're trying to be the nice one, and eventually, holding all of that inwardly will make you crack. I'm glad she went to therapy. I kinda hope she's still going to therapy because it seems as though a lot of this is still bothering her.

And I don't really think that Darren, specifically, is ultimately what led to Jenna's breakdown. I think it was a lot of things compounding on each other and Darren on Broadway might have been the last straw that caused her to crack.

I will say (again with all the love to Darren, I adore the guy) there was underground talk that when Darren first got there - he didn't exactly handle his newfound fame in the most eloquent of ways -- in that he was a little on the pompous side. But again, that was age, and by the time Season 4 came around, by all accounts that I came across, he was friends with everyone.

That said - none of this is Darren's fault. It's not Darren's fault that Ryan Murphy handled his young cast and their mental health very badly. It's not Darren's fault that he jumped on opportunities when they arose. It's not Darren's fault that through his natural talents Blaine became a way more popular character than half the original cast. And it's not Darren's fault that Jenna has her own shit to deal with.

***

So, yeah...

I guess those are my thoughts.

And I'm still here enjoying Kurt, Blaine, Chris, and Darren -- and believe it or not, a lot of the show in general. And I don't really listen to Kevin and Jenna's podcast anymore because they just don't care about the things I do -- and that's fine.

[michellymy]

I Lost It

A Dark Elsa’s Short Story

——————————————————————————

So, is this the end?

I have done it. I finished my job. After years, it happened:

The world is frozen.

I was tired of their laugh, tired of their joy, their happiness, love, pleasure… even their sadness was worth of envy.

Such things were lost in the way before I could even notice, just like my body. My chest aches to breathe, my vision is made of abstract shapes, I can only hear my fading heartbeats in my ears. Taste and smell? Well, they were the first to disappear.

Yet, I persist. No for out of will, nor for the lack of it. No matter what I think about my situation, it will remain like this. I am a living statue, forever stuck in this endless life.

Immortal and unchangeable. Not exactly the nature of ice, but my curse messed up nature itself. Many living beings were extinct from the permanent cold weather, many died in starvation, others in captivity, some in my stalactites. And thousands, millions, tens of millions were turned into ice statues.

My people, families, men, women, children, elders… all stopped in time, with no index of fear in their body language. They weren’t waiting for my power to struck them like this.

Anna is also there. I can’t see her face, but I know it’s her. My sister, who insisted so much for my well-being no matter what I did through the years.

Now she’s nothing but a sculpture. All of them.

My own art exhibition, made by me, for me only.

My body cracked when I sighed. I’m sat in my throne, crown on my head and staff in my hand. A, literally, cold Queen. Or tyrant. They used to call me by all names, didn’t they? Devil, even.

Bishop Frank, guard Philips, blacksmith Greg, shopkeeper Paola, child Theo, sister Angela, elder Hiago, chef Mathias, prostitute Vanya, priest Wender, maid Christine, farmer Diana, painter Xavier… Hans, Kristoffer, Sven, Olaf.

Yes, I remember all of them. I remember everything. Every single word and deed that I or them have done. I remember every single soul I killed, their positions, their expressions, their feelings, oh, excruciating details of their pain. All of it reflected in my ice as it came from out to inside them.

They were destined to die someday, I only advanced what was meant to be. I did it for everyone’s well-being. The cries of the ones left were disturbing me. They made me desire to live like that once again, to be human once again, to listen to Anna’s pledge. Her sobbing voice when she found out I failed suiciding almost made me human again.

But to be human is to be weak and fragile. If I were human, I’d be dead when I threw myself from that cliff. But I am something else. I am transcendent. I am made to be like this, nothing will bring me to the mud of humanity.

I chose it for me, it’s humanity’s problem to deal with the consequences of my choice.

…

I sometimes wonder if it was the right decision.

…

How much time passed? Days? Months? Years? Centuries?

…

Does it matter? Nothing will change anyway.

We are frozen for eternity.

[seducemefanficsandheadcanons]

If this is triggering then sorry but can you do a fic where Y/N was raped and is basically sick of her life constantly falling apart then tries to kill herslef then Sam catches her in the act. Then she tells him what happened and he gives her cuddles?

Hi<3 So, I just want to preface this by saying trigger warning for any readers. This fic will include mentions of rape, attempted suicide, depression, and angst. I'm aware this is a very sensitive subject matter, and I tried to be as respectful and sensitive as possible. Please tell me if there is anything I could do to improve or to be more sensitive regarding the subject matter. I hope you enjoy the story<3 I wrote it to be platonic, but feel free to interoperate it how you like.

You are not broken

I was shaking, almost dropping the blade in the process. I was done, life had thrown too many things at me. My father, grandfather, Malix, Diana, and today. The memories of the man invaded my thoughts, mental images of his grabbing me, pulling me into the alleyway. The feeling of him forcing my clothes down. It was too much.  I didn’t care anymore, there was no using logic to find my way out of this.

I was tired of being strong. Tired of smiling. Tired of crying.

Tired.

I tried to breathe as the tears continued falling down my face, but my lungs refused. I wasn’t making any attempts to be quiet, as I was supposed to be home alone. The shaking in my hands didn’t subside as I brought the blade down to my wrist, taking a large breath.

Suddenly, before the blade could even make contact with my skin, someone snatched it out of my grasp. In front of me was my close incubus friend and roommate, Sam, tightly gripping the blade in his hands. He was giving me a look I couldn’t quite understand. It was hard to ignore tears that formed as I stared into his eyes, frozen in place while I waited for him to do something.

My thoughts were almost frozen. Panic, embarrassment, sadness, anger was all there. But any trail of thought seemed to be as stuck as I was.

After what felt like forever, I looked away, my eyes falling on his bloody hand. “Sam, you're bleeding.”

I felt his gaze harden, and suddenly I was being picked up. Before I could register what was happening, we were out of the bathroom and standing in my room. He held me tightly to him, even as he sat my feet on the ground. I noticed the trembling which reverberated throughout his body, and I could swear I felt his tears in the crook of my neck, where his face was buried. 

I was stiff, unsure of how to respond. I just wrapped my arms around him as I tried, and failed, to speak.

Eventually, he pulled away and sat down on my bed which I followed suit. I stared at nothing at particular, barely aware of the tears which were still falling from my eyes. My fists were tightly shut, my nails breaking the skin of my palms. I failed to bring myself to look at Sam, but I knew he was staring at me.

“What the fuck were you thinking.” Sam asked. His tone was harsh, but I knew him well enough to know that he cared.

I didn’t answer, just digging my nails deeper. I found myself admiring the paintings on the walls, thinking of the feelings of my hair on my neck, anything but the predicament I was in.

Sam was impatient, however. “Y/N, what were you fucking thinking?” He asked again, louder this time.

I gulped, now staring at my hands which were bleeding from my nails. “I wasn’t.” I answered quietly.

I could hear him take a deep, shaky breath before he spoke again with a slightly weaker tone. “Why?”

I closed my eyes, the shaking in my body still very prominent. “I’m tired.”

Sam shifted closer to me. “Then let us help.”

I shook my head, crying even more. “I can’t be helped.”

“Bullshit.”

I finally looked up at Sam. His eyes were slightly red, and I could see the fallen tears on his cheeks. His expression was frustrated, worried, and saddened at the same time. “I’m unfixable.” I said, a sad smile stretching across my face.

His eyebrows furrowed, and before he could argue I spoke again.  “Anyone with eyes can take a look at me and know I’m a lost cause.”

I swallowed hard, but continued. “Everything I touch burns, and I’m tired of worrying every good thing is gonna be fucked up.”

His eyes were completely unreadable as he spoke. “You can’t let the shit that's happened in your life mean nothing. If you…” He stopped, and his eyes began to water again. 

I sighed, looking back down. “I don't know what wrong with me.” I admitted.

Sam’s arms wrapped around me. “Nothing is wrong with you, you can’t control the bad things that have happened to you.”

Something he said made me break.

Suddenly I was sobbing, turning and returning his embrace. He tightened his grip around me, his hand rubbing soothing circles on the small of my back. He let me cry into his shoulder, whispering and letting me know everything would be okay. 

“Sam.” I said, between sobs. “I was raped.”

I felt him tighten his grip and go slightly rigid for only a second before returning to his previous demeanor. He continued to sooth me, telling me it wasn’t my fault and that I’d be okay. 

After what felt like hours, I pulled away. My eyes felt swollen and my head was pounding, but the weight in my chest was slightly lighter. I wiped my face and looked at the clock. It was early, only 4pm, but I was exhausted from crying. A yawn escaped my lips, and Sam smiled ever so slightly. “You should lay down.”

I nodded, looking at him. “Will you stay?”

He just nodded, without even hesitating. He laid down, letting me lay on his chest as he trailed his hands up and down my back. In almost no time, I was falling asleep, my last thoughts surrounding how safe I felt in his arms.

[vagueandominousvibes]

top five books!

Sam. You're asking someone with an MSc literature — someone who turned down a PhD in literature, not because she didn't want to do it, but because her mental health was shattered — about her top five books. Do you realise what you've done? You've enabled me, Sam.

I struggle choosing favourite books even on the best of days, so for the purpose of this I hope you don't mind if I expand it to also include literary series. In no particular order:

The Trials of Apollo, by Rick Riordan. I wrote one of the first 15,000 word research theses on this series. It hasn't been published, but it got me an overall Distinction in my MSc and I would gladly have done my PhD solely on this series. There is so much to talk about — the conversations about trauma, the triumph over childhood abuse (gaslighting), the realisation that sometimes you can't leave your family and have to find ways of living with it. And Apollo. I relate to Apollo, who starts out as The Worst children's novel protagonist, because I too grew up as a spoiled brat and had to work through years of trauma to become a decent human being (something I'm still working on, but that's another story). This series is so well written, so engaging, and touches on so many important issues. And I have a lot of feelings about it.

Smith of Wootton Major, by J. R. R. Tolkien. "But, Kalh," you might say, "why not The Lord of the Rings? Or The Hobbit? Or The Silmarillion? You know, the stuff you've published peer-reviewed research about?" No. Listen. Listen. The Legendarium is amazing and great and fantastic, but SoWM is where it's at. It's Tolkien's writing at its best. It's the epitome of a fairytale. It's short, tells half the story through symbolism and metaphors, and is absolutely gorgeous. It fully and completely embodies his theory of fairy stories, and years of literary research and writing. And it shows.

Howl's Moving Castle, by Diana Wynne Jones. I would have gone with the Chrestomanci series (also by her), but this novel has a decidedly special place in my heart. It was adapted as Studio Ghibli film, and I can absolutely see why. Reading it feels like looking at one of Marie Brožová's illustrations (example below). There's so many seemingly unimportant details that leap out of the background at various points, it's all fantastical, and it feels like a world where everything is possible. We all know Tolkien is renowned for his world-building, but god damn, Jones' is up there. You can tell she loved writing, because HMC practically glows with that love. It's magic incarnate and I'm so sad my copy of it is at my parents' place three flights away, because now I really want to re-read it.

(Source)

Deeplight, by Frances Hardinge. Ok, so I think I have pretty much every children's book Hardinge has ever written, because her world-building, her characters, and her prose is just that good. That said, Deeplight was the first novel by her I read. I was half-way through my MSc and was tired of Ballard, and Beckett, and Smith, and Spiotta, and I had picked this one up some weeks earlier because the cover intrigued me (yes, I judge books by their covers — it's how I've come across over half the books on this list). It's 442 pages long. I read it in one sitting. I still remember the absolute rollercoaster of rage and joy and grief and deep terror I felt reading it. I don't know if it would stand up to a re-reading, but I know that as a one-time read, it's fantastic.

Under the Whispering Doorway, by T. J. Klune. I was going to talk about Ross Montgomery, whose books I like more than Klune's, but UtWD has a special place in my heart due to the circumstances under which I read it. Last winter was rough (to the point where I considered moving six feet down). I had my parents' numbers blocked, refused to visit them alone, and spent the holiday with @foolsbangle (tagging you bc I don't know that I've ever actually expressed how much spending Christmas with you and your family meant to me). I had barely touched a book in several months, and was struggling through a one-year course on the History of Ideas. When I went to An's, I brought some books with me, in the hope that I'd be able to read again. One of these was UtWD. I retrieved it while An was drawing, snuggled up against them, and opened the book. After a while, I became aware An had started reading over my shoulder, and that — the fact that we were both reading the same book at the same time — kept me going. One of my last nights there, we stayed up until 7AM, snuggled up like that to finish the book. UtWD itself is alright. It has fun queer representation and some delightful character, but I've read better prose. Reading it with An like that, however, made it very special to me.

Other honorary mentions that were serious contenders for this list:

The Chime Seekers, by Ross Montgomery

The Midnight Guardians, by Ross Montgomery

The Snow Song, by Sally Gardener

This Is How You Lose the Time War, by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone

Six Crimson Cranes, by Elizabeth Lim

Men Without Women, by Haruki Murakami

Footprints: In Search of Future Fossils, by David Farrier

The Land of the Green Man, by Carolyne Larrington

Guards! Guards! by Terry Pratchett

You may be surprised that the Four Swords manga isn't on this list. This isn't because it's not one of my current favourites, but rather that the list only contains books and series I feel satisfied having read and analysed, without engaging in their respective fan communities. Think of it like the difference between walking through a museum and going to the playground. The above books are artefacts in a museum of literature, exhibited under spotlight, and I walk through the shadows to the curiosities I'm interested in examining. I look at their age and composition, discover their individual contexts, and peruse the research associated with each artefact.

The FS manga is a playground. It's somewhere where I get down on my knees and dig in the dirt, climb the monkey bars, and sit down with others to play with the dolls and action figurines scattered about. It's bright, sunlit, and colourful. It's paint splattered on walls and colourful handprints on thick paper that mum will make you sign in wobbly letters when it's dried. It's a creative endeavour that inspires joy and laughter, rather than the solemn contemplation of artefacts.

[livannasalinger]

The fight had been going on for a long time, neither side winning, but it was only a matter of time before a mistake was made: out of weariness, out of inevitably someone making the wrong move.

Diana couldn't understand why Kronos had awakened, why he seemed to focus on Flash of all heroes present. Days ago, the power of Kronos stood out, constantly growing, and since then disasters have occurred around the world as a prelude to the inevitable awakening of the cruel titan. Despite her having the power to fight Gods, Kronos has proven to be her toughest fight yet, and besides, something about the situation was odd. His speeches, always crypted, imply that they may not be aware of all the facts. That doesn't justify his actions, and as a princess of themyscira, as Wonder Woman, she had a duty to protect the innocent, but she couldn't help but think... what else was at stake here.

A chill went through Diana, which made her notice, finally, that the air began to grow colder, and that everything began to freeze, even the time. She soon looked at Kronos, who, to her surprise, looked just as confused as she was.

Snowflakes began to fall, some glittering like stars falling from the sky, a stunning sight considering it was sunset.

In a blink of eye, as if it's always been there, a person appears with their back to her, wrapped in what looks like a hood made out of the night sky itself, with intricate symbols decorating it. The battle stops, and waits.

"Grandfather, please, you are hurting yourself." A child's melodious voice pleads, and Diana can feel their pain. Who is calling Kronos Grandfather? Diana waits for Kronos to express anger, waits for him to make any move, but sure enough, she never imagined seeing the titan stop, looking at the child (?) with feelings she couldn't begin to understand.

"Origin.... I didn't think he would send you here Danny. My child, I have no choice, the so called heroes of this planet are destroying the universe they swore to protect."

"I know" the voice echoes "but there are better ways to go about this. Gaia is not happy with the destruction taking place, and Grandpa is suffering. Let me take care of it grandfather, and go talk to grandpa. It's been a while since he is wanting to ...  discuss with you about your ideas for the best of the timeline ... you well know why. And by the Ancients, I'll make you deal with Frostbite after this... honestly I'm on my way to deal with Uncle Hades too, for that Aunt Death needs to have a word with him too...” The child sounded so exasperated and tired at the same time that he reminded Diana of Bruce on many, many occasions.

Kronos raises an eyebrow, hearing the boy complain about being the glorified interdimensional errand boy, but in his gaze the hatred and madness from before had been replaced by fond resignation

With a last look at the heroes (a warning) , one more specifically aimed at  Flash (Diana was going to have words with him soon), Kronos affectionately ruffles the boy's hair, and disappears into a green light.

The child, now hood down, floats above, turning around for the first time.

He appeared to be approximately 17 years old and human in certain features, although with his elongated ears, colors, the glow that seemed to naturally emit, toxic green eyes and claws, plus his clear affiliation with Kronos, probably indicate something else. 

The being who until recently was  calmly asking his grandfather to stop now looked the heroes seriously, but without the overwhelming presence of Kronos. With a smirk, he speaks:

"Hello, my name is Danny... let's talk about how you are going to fix the timeline of this universe before it is destroyed, how about that? By the way, nice to meet you cousin, Pandora talks a lot about you".

Time crisis

Clockwork looked sick, this was the first time Danny had witnessed something like this so he couldn't help but feel concerned for his mentor. However, no matter how many times he asked what was going on, the Ancient refused to answer.

The halfa was taking care of him and finally Clockwork revealed that he was under attack. Danny raised an eyebrow in confusion, he saw no one in Clock Tower and the Observants were not around, seeing his confusion the Master of Time explained himself more clearly.

Clockwork had multiple bodies, distributed in different dimensions. And while they didn't follow the same rules, their job was the same, "preserve the timelines". One of his other bodies must have sensed his timeline being altered multiple times and awoke from its rest to repair the error.

Someone must not have been happy about that, if the damage Clockwork was receiving was anything to go by. The Ancient had no doubt that if they kept attacking him they would cause him further damage, which would be a big problem for the timelines.

The reason he didn't want to tell the halfa that was because he knew Danny would want to help, but not all of his "parts" were good, nor did they have the same methods to "repair" and he didn't want to show the boy a bad part of himself. Although he doubted his other "self" would attack young Daniel, seeing how fond he was of him.

Danny of course, offered to solve the problem. Knowing the boy was stubborn, Clockwork sighed in resignation and opened a portal to the DC Universe, where the Justice League was facing Kronos, Danny stepped through the portal immediately and started running to the battlefield.

Wonder Woman was gritting her teeth in fury as she faced Kronos, who was scowling in annoyance, his gaze seemed to be fixed on the speedster for some reason; half of the League were injured but holding their ground, and John Constantine had almost finished preparing a spell to destroy the titan once and for all. He opened his mouth to tell the Titan it was his end when a teenage boy ran past him.

Danny, who had no idea what was going on, stood in front of Kronos not knowing what to say. He didn't quite know how to fix the situation. Kronos looked at him in confusion as John choked as he noticed the boy in the path of his spell.

"Fate is not inevitable" the halfa told the Titan decisively. While he had been a hero and understood why the people around him would want to "stop" the other Clocky, he didn't want to see his mentor die (even if this was some sort of clone? Danny didn't quite understand), he was selfish, and he knew the other Clocky had his reasons. He looked at the wounded on the battlefield and took a deep breath before looking at the Titan again.

"Come home with me and we'll find another way to solve it" Danny offered, ignoring the heroes glaring at him. Kronos was still silent, he knew he could kill the boy in seconds but something in him protested at the idea.

Danny wondered if he could lock the being in front of him in a Fenton thermos.

[softersinned-arc]

@cllairmont said: I will not let her speak because I love her, and when you love someone, you do not make them tell war stories.

“So you won’t even ask her?”

          It’s just like the old days, except a thousand times worse. Philippe’s study remains closed, so instead of the familiar battleground, they stand at opposite ends of the kitchen; Baldwin is taking a walk, clearing his head, getting some space from the house and nearly everyone in it. Ysabeau and Marthe are together somewhere, whispering, considering their options. Diana is asleep, half-delirious with pain and shock, and there is some part of Astoria that envies her.

          Astoria and Matthew are at odds again. It won’t surprise anyone. And Astoria knows better than to pick a fight with him, particularly when he’s already so high strung, particularly when Baldwin isn’t here, but—well, no one’s ever accused her of pure logic. She crosses her arms over her chest and leans against a counter while Matthew sits at the table, a glass of wine in front of him, his eyes fixed on the wood and the remnants of flour there, where his brother had drawn a map. Astoria digs her fingernails into the skin of her bare arm, but the skin doesn’t break the way it would have when she was still a warmblood.

          Matthew lifts his eyes to meet hers and he looks tired, but still furious. “No. I won’t.”

          “Fine. Then let me ask her. I don’t care about her feelings.”

          The snarl that rips itself from Matthew’s throat should frighten her.

          “Then Ysabeau. Marthe. Someone. Anyone. We need to know what she knows, and now that she’s seen that the witches will kill her before they’ll allow this to continue, she’ll be more inclined to speak to us.”

          “I said no.”

          “She’s a grown woman, Matthew, no matter how much you insist on treating her like a particularly stupid child. She can speak if she’d like.”

          He stands, knocking the glass away from him with the back of his hand; the wine spills and the glass crashes to the floor, but she doesn’t move. “I will not let her speak,” he says slowly, enunciating every word, making sure to bleed as much anger into his voice as he can, “because I love her, and when you love someone, you do not make them tell war stories.”

          “Christ’s sake, Matthew, if you think that’s what war looks like, you’re a fucking idiot.” Twelve hours missing, spent in pain, being tortured. “You were never tortured as a warmblood. Let me tell you what it’s like.”

          “Spare me the tragedy, Astoria. My word is final.”

          “See, a good torturer, an effective torturer, learns your limits early on. Learns exactly how far you can be pushed before you’re nothing, and then takes you right to that line, over and over again, until death would be a sweet release.” You know about that part, she thinks, but she doesn’t say it. Astoria unfolds her arms and instead slips her hands into the pockets of her jeans, as though they’re discussing anything else. “But you’re not just hoping you die, or that they kill you; a good torturer will have you trying to kill yourself. Ready to bite through your own tongue to drown in your blood, for instance, and they’ll stop you before you can. Now, it doesn’t seem that poor little Diana got that far, because Diana wasn’t taken in war, Matthew. Diana had a bad day. But this will become war, and she’ll see exactly what real torture feels like, if we aren’t ready for this.”

          “Do you think I don’t know what’s at stake?” he asks, becoming louder with each word.

          “No,” she answers at once. “I know that you don’t. I understand better than you do what mating turns you into. You think she’s a chess piece you can move away from the fight. The fight will come to her. For example—just for example, mind you—I could say that if you ever bite my husband again, even in defense of your mate,” and the word again drips with venom and disdain, enough so that Matthew takes a step closer to her, and there’s something animalistic in his expression that does send a chill up her spine.

          “I would caution you not to finish that sentence, sister,” he spits, and Astoria ignores the warning in his voice to step closer as well.

          “Ah. I forgot; only Matthew is allowed to react to pain. I can watch you shed my mate’s blood but if I retaliate, I’m in the wrong. You can endanger this entire family—including my husband, our daughters, our sons, our sisters—to protect your own, but should we protect ourselves from you, it’s a declaration of all-out war. What should I expect from the man who grieved his father but denied his brother the same?”

          “This is hardly the time for you to air your decades-old grievances—”

          “Certainly not, but it was the time to use the Knights and Sept-Tours to make threats, wasn’t it? Of course it was. It was Matthew bringing it up.”

          “You’re a child.” He towers over her. She doesn’t move. Five hundred years of life has granted her a steadiness she hadn’t known as a mortal. “A petulant child throwing tantrums.”

          “She’d be dead without Baldwin’s intervention. You understand this, yes? You would have ranted and raved like a madman and you would have let her die because of it. You have been spared the consequences of most of your idiocy, but the rest of us have not. And if you can’t get your shit together, Diana will suffer for it, too. You cannot do this alone. You don’t know how. Philippe always cleaned up your messes, and now Baldwin does. Without knowing just how much Knox and Gerbert know, your brother’s limited in what he can do.”

          “I don’t need to be lectured by a woman a third my age.”

          “Watch your tone when you speak to me,” she warns quietly. “I may be younger than you but I still outrank you. Talk to her. Find out what they know. Find out what was done to her. And if she’s so weak that she can’t handle telling you, then set her free, because she’ll be too weak to survive what’s to come.”

          She hears familiar footsteps on the stones outside and she steps around Matthew, leaves him alone to seethe as she goes to meet Baldwin.

          The look of pure loathing he casts her way the next morning, as they prepare to head back to New York, might have bothered her centuries ago, but she has long since grown numb to him.

[4dtk]

i love your work!!!! could write one (imagine/oneshot) where s/o it's part of a royal family and nct are about to meet her in a event and they feel in love with her person and get amazed..... (not in a medieval scenario, more like a princess diana....)

p.s: if you could also emphasize s/o with a curly dark hair..... <3

nine princes, one successful courting (127)

im sorry SDHFHFH i didn’t see the ‘event’ part and thought you wanted nct as princes too SORRY AAHHA but i tried to follow ur modern request of a royal family!! rather than a period drama kinda thing. i hope you dont mind i did this only for 127 TT (thank u for the kind words <3)

also rip this is so different from what i usually do i hope this is ok yikes

pairing: royal au!127 x princess!reader

word count: 1.6k

“(y/n)! why are you taking so long?” you roll your eyes, although you were to fully take the blame, having spent so much time talking to your handmaidens in the bathroom. whilst tucking in the curls of your dark hair, the handmaidens adjust your dress and your accessories, excited just as you are for the big day. with the last pendant drawn across your neck, you stare longingly at your reflection in the mirror while the servants admire their work.

“thank you, girls,” you were aching to clutch their hands, shaking from nervousness that they both offered you a squeeze. “c’mon, let’s go meet my family.”

being the only child of the royal family was hard. you were meant to learn everything if it meant that you had no siblings, from proper manners to self defence. sure, you could rely on the guards, but you knew your mother rested better at night when you were equipped with those skills. being the only child also meant having to marry someone at the age of twenty, when you were mature enough to make your decisions about a man that you would devote your life to.

with each offer from other countries came, your parents rejected them all, wanting you to choose your suitor for yourself in person where you could decide whether their personality was for you. in a way, it worked both ways. you had the freedom, but that meant sitting through every lunch and dinner to make small talk. you visibly cringe at the aspect. although thrilled earlier at the thought of meeting new people, the exhausting burden or having to get to know the other person was… tiring.

“do you remember the briefing we went over, dear?”

you have an arm hooked onto your mother’s, “yes, mum. the boys who’re coming, they’re from an alliance from different countries and families, aren’t they?”

“and how many of them are there?”

you swallow uncomfortably, “there’s… nine of them, mother.” watching their cars come in was enough to make you run back into the palace, but you try your best to stand your ground. the gold gates shine under the scorching sun as they pile in one by one, with the impatient paparazzi ready to catch a glimpse and snap of any of the princes arriving here on this late morning.

Nakamoto Yuta, heir to the throne of the Nakamoto family in Japan. the one with possibly the longest journey of them all, ridden with jet lag and cultural differences, he was still determined to impress your family.

his slicked red hair catches you off guard, wondering how free he was able to dye his hair while in such a strict setting. as he steps out of the vehicle, it’s just as the lesson yesterday went, save for the colour of his hair. from top to bottom, he was dressed in the finest silks of the Kadoma region and his features are distinct, taking your breath away even from such a far distance. his eyes are alluring, carrying such mystery that looks fierce on his neutral expression. with a gentle smile, he bows, but not before taking your hand into his for a kiss.

Seo Youngho, older brother to Seo Minhyung, who belonged to the royal family of the States, where their Korean mother had married a local there. they hoped the same would happen to you, although one would wonder how the other brother might process if they weren’t chosen.

the younger brother seemed to be fidgety, as if it was one of the first few events that he’s gone through. with a confident stride, the older takes the first step towards your family, not forgetting to thank the chauffeur with a pat to the back. youngho’s eyes are gentle, sleepy, almost as he greets you with a bow, minhyung slowly following the older with a surprised shriek. it makes you giggle, catching minhyung’s eye that makes his cheeks redden just a tiny bit. youngho nudges the other in your palace, taking the chance to shoot you a quick wink that has you tensing up unintentionally. it makes your heart race.

Lee Haechan, an alias to Lee Donghyuck, who was already prince to the Island of Jeju, travelling here far and wide to converse with you, and hopefully court you.

he steps out with a smirk, shaking hands with his butler before beckoning a younger sibling out of the car. your eyes skim over the different demeanour he’s assumed with his baby sister, who’s babbling playfully into his arms. “his two other younger brothers are busy with their own duties.” your mother leans over to whisper to you. in one hand, he juggles the sibling and in the other he places to his heart, bringing a knee down to the floor to greet you. haechan notices your distraught at such a grand greeting, but he only offers a charming smile, going right back to entertaining the young girl.

Kim Jungwoo of the family of the Gyeonggi-do region, and Kim Doyoung, a family friend that was adopted when his older brother, Gongmyung, could no longer take care of him. they took care of each other, right even up to now where, you, the heir to your city stood beautifully in front of them.

despite the latter being adopted, you realise he takes on the role of guiding jungwoo, with a hand on his lower back and whispered encouragement to the actual heir of the Kim family. jungwoo bows while doyoung follows the greeting of haechan, the prince from earlier. the difference in their salutation prompts a laugh out of the both of them that it elicits a chuckle from you as well, seemingly a pardon for their incoordination. “your hair is beautiful, by the way.” you’re not sure from who does the compliment come from, but you duck your head shyly, feeling around your neat hairdo of neat curls as they grin.

Lee Taeyong from the district of the Southern City of Gwanak-gu, who happened to meet up with Moon Taeil from Northern District of Dongdaemun-gu for a peace treaty between the two places. and now, they were to meet with you, called to their duty as the eldest in their family.

“taeyong’s family has an older sister, but they were more comfortable to send their son to bring a wife home.” your ah sounds a bit indifferent, eyeing how they strode up the stairs as if with purpose. their words clash with each other, matching the situation of their cities but soon manage to articulate their names which you answer with a curtsey. moon taeil is a little more resolute and bold with his actions, not bothering to wait for the other who jogs a bit in order to catch up to the elder. just one more. your legs were starting to feel like jelly, the nude tights you wore felt stickier and stickier and the heels you donned hurt like hell. as the last car pulls into the driveway, you heave a sigh of relief.

the ruler of Seoul, Jung Jaehyun, an only child just like you. you’re taken aback by much more the paparazzi is paying attention to this prince, and you can’t help but feel a little bad for the others. Jaehyun is no different, grimacing internally at the amount of flashes that distract him from greeting you.

jaehyun takes a knee in front of you, taking your hand from below to plant a kiss on it before offering up his arm. being the last had its perks, having the opportunity to welcome you into your own palace, your own dining room. with a hesitant goodbye, your parents take the front seat while you hang with jung jaehyun at the back, the last bits of light fading out from the doormen closing the door on the prying cameras and incoming sun rays. small talk…

you’re surprised when the journey to the dining room is quiet, the other’s head held high in fear of saying one wrong thing. you can tell he feels stuffy in that suit of his, all dolled up in a three-piece that you feel even a corset would be better. light pours in yet again as the familiar maroon doors open the space to the grand dining room, where there were thirteen spaces already set-up.

the princess was to sit at the head of the table, with her mother on her left, and her nine suitors on either side of the table. the end of the table is reserved for the king, and just like a normal day in the palace, everyone stands at attention when the four finally enter, bowing just slightly. some exchange looks, other give curious glances to the prince you have beside you.

“uh… can we sit now?”

there’s a whack coming from the older brother of the Seo household to his younger sibling. thankfully, your father doesn’t mind formality all that much, gesturing down to allow them to take their sits as the waiters come out one by one with appetiser that just happens to be your favourite. the never-ending flurry of plates and utensils only makes you disoriented, the intricate filigree design of gold never looking so harsh to your eyes before.

“i thank you for coming all the way here, boys. i speak on behalf on my family that i hope you have a pleasant stay here in the (l/n) palace. now, i wish you a delicious lunch before we get to know everyone. isn’t that right, (y/n)?”

oh god… this was going to be a long ride, isn’t it?

[ragingbookdragon]

Even Though We May Be Hopeless Hearts Just Passing Through, I Was Made For Loving You PT. 1

Batsis x Kyle Rayner

Word Count: 2.1K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: I realize the other story didn't follow the whole, dating the brother's best friend trope, so I decided to remedy it. And what do you get when you cross a hopeless romantic with someone who's new to love? Perfection. That's what. Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

Saturday mornings, in Dick’s opinion, were meant for sleeping in and quite possibly going to IHOP when everyone finally crawled out of bed at ten. They were not meant for being shoved in the side by a little brother.

“Golden-boy,” a voice grouched from beneath the bedside. “Your phone’s been going off for an hour. Either put it on silent or answer the goddamn thing.”

Dick let out a tired ‘pfft’, rolling onto his stomach, face buried in the side of the bed as he looked down to the floor. “Annoyed much, Little-wing?”

“I am going to shove that phone so far up your—”

Reaching over, Dick put the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

Where are you?

“Still in bed,” he responded, sentence ending in a groan as he stretched. “Why?”

You were supposed to be on the flight back to Gotham two hours ago.

Dick’s eyes went wide, and he sat up, gaping at the bedside clock. “It’s today.”

It is today. I can’t believe you forgot it was today.

“Oh my God, it’s today and we missed our flight.” He stumbled out of the bed, barely registering the shout from Jason as his foot landed in his brother’s stomach. “Jason, get up! It’s today!’

“What’s today?” his little brother griped, rubbing his abdomen.

“(Y/N)’s coming back!”

Jason’s eyes went wide, and he scrambled to his feet, hurriedly finding his bag to change out of his nightclothes. “Christ, I can’t believe we forgot that (Y/N) was coming home today!” he looked at Dick. “This is your fault.”

“My fault?” Dick yelped. “How is this my fault!”

He scowled. “Big brother wanted everyone to be with a sibling for the night, so they’d be together and be punctual but you and I both know neither of us have any concept of time.” His scowl grew. “I knew I should’ve bunked with Cass. She’s on time no matter what happens.”

Dick threw Jason’s sweatshirt at him. “Dress now, bitch later.” He put the phone back to his ear. “We missed our flight, but we can drive there.”

Your car’s in the shop.

“Shit,” he hissed, spinning in a circle to help his brain circuit enough to think of something new. “Uh-uh-uh—”

“Kyle!” Jason shouted, pointing at him. “Kyle’s like thirty minutes away from Manhattan! We’ll go to him for a ride!”

Dick grinned. “We’ll find Kyle.”

You sure Kyle’s at home?

“Pfft, Kyle’s always home on the weekends. He’s lazy.”

Just get here. (Y/N)’s plane is going to land in less than four hours.

“We’ll be there,” he said. “Is Diana coming too?”

Of course. She is (Y/N)’s mother.

“Nice. Alright, see you in Gotham, Bruce.”

Love you boys. And be careful. I’ve already heard that Cass, Tim, and Steph got into a fender-bender with Damian and Duke.

Dick blinked. “They’re…they’re legitimately driving separate cars? How’d they hit each other?”

Don’t ask.

The line went dead, and Dick looked at his brother. “Ready?”

Jason nodded. “Already got an Uber to Kyle’s place.”

“We could always just Uber to Gotham?” he offered, and Jason recoiled with a shocked look.

“And pay a ridiculous amount of money instead of just paying Kyle’s gas? Fuck no, big brother.” He shoved his wallet and keys into his pockets. “C’mon!” he chirped, rather excitedly. “Our baby sister’s coming home!”

***

When he swung the door open to yell at whoever was pounding on it, he wasn’t expecting to see two of his best friends grinning like idiots. “Wha—”

He’d barely gotten a word out when Jason shoved a bag of fast food in his hands. “Get dressed. You’ve gotta drive us to Gotham City.”

Kyle blinked, glancing down at the bag before looking at Dick. “Why?”

“Our sister’s coming home, and we overslept and missed out flight outta here.”

“And you came to me…why?” he asked.

“Because you have the functioning car.” Jason retorted, antsy on his feet. “C’mon Kyle. We have to hurry! (Y/N)’s coming home!”

Figuring it was better to agree than to argue, Kyle relented, handing back the bag of food before he disappeared into his apartment, reappearing moments later, dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans, a graphic tee, and his usual slim casual jacket. He took the bag back and started digging around in it.

“Who’s (Y/N)?” he inquired, biting into a breakfast burrito as he locked his front door behind him.

“Our baby sister.” Jason said.

“I thought Cass was your baby sister?”

Dick nodded, getting out his own breakfast from the bag. “She is. But (Y/N)’s like…the OG baby sister.”

Kyle blinked, glancing over at him as he pushed the elevator button. “That makes no sense.”

“He means that (Y/N) was around before Cass was.”

“And she isn’t with you guys why?”

“She’s been on Themyscira for the last few years training with her grandmother and the other Amazons.” Jason answered as if it was the most normal thing in the world, stepping onto the elevator.

Kyle merely stared at the two brothers who were looking back at him; he felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. “Wait, your sister’s an Amazon?”

“Yep.”

“Who’s her mom?” he asked, stepping between them.

“Wonder Woman.” Dick said.

Strike two. “Who’s her dad?”

“Batman.” Jason responded.

Believe it or not, Kyle went three for three punches to the gut. “Bruce and Diana had a kid together?”

“Yeah.” Dick murmured. “I think it’s also why B’s so insistent against inter-team-relations.” He nudged Jason behind Kyle. “First time he attempts dating a coworker he ends up with a baby.”

Jason snorted. “And all those lessons about, ‘Children, whatever you do, don’t date anyone on your team. It’ll only lead to babies and limited visitation’.” He laughed again, then he frowned. “I don’t think any of us have followed that lesson.”

Dick opened his mouth to make an excuse but all that came out was a pitiful, deflate of air followed by, “That’s actually a good point.”

The elevator dinged and they watched the doors open before walking out towards the parking garage. They climbed into Kyle’s car, Jason in the front because his legs were longer than Dick’s, and Dick was a contortionist anyways so if anyone deserved to have their knees in their chest, it was him.

Halfway through the drive Kyle asked, “You guys are paying for my gas, aren’t you?”

All he received was unsure responses and he merely sighed.

***

He figured he should’ve just dropped Jason and Dick off at the airport in Gotham and drove home, but he couldn’t help but want to see just what the daughter of Wonder Woman and Batman looked like. He imagined a little girl dressed in a Batman suit three sizes too big and wielding a sword and a lasso way too heavy for her. It made him smile, the way that the two brothers gushed about (Y/N). From their praise, she was their world. Kyle had to see her though, because nothing was going to satiate that curiosity of seeing the big Batman’s daughter.

He watched Dick and Jason crane their necks like birds as they looked around. And honestly, the family shouldn’t have been that hard to find considering that every time Kyle was around the entirety of the Batfamily, they were like psychos on steroids—he very much so understood why the entirety of Gotham’s villains became flighty when every member of the Batfamily was out patrolling.

Kyle wasn’t expecting a voice to crack over the airport, loud and bubbly. “Brothers!”

All three of them stopped, even him who wasn’t even a sibling, looking over towards the call and Kyle’s jaw dropped as a young woman sprinted over to Dick and Jason, slamming into them with the weight of a train. The three of them collapsed into a pile on the floor, but they were laughing so Kyle assumed the siblings were alright.

“Princess!”

“Baby girl!”

“Oh, I am so glad to see you both!” she exclaimed. “I have waited so long to come home!” she was on her feet in moments, pulling them to theirs as if they weighed nothing. And Kyle knew Jason weighed a lot—he’d been crushed under his best friend before in fights.

Suddenly, she stopped and looked over at Kyle who immediately felt his heart lurch under her sharp gaze. “Who is this you have brought?”

Jason gestured to him. “(Y/N) this is Kyle. He’s a friend of Dick and mine. Kyle, this is our little sister, (Y/N).”

She huffed laugh. “I am not little, Jason. I am twenty-one.” Reaching out, she immediately pulled Kyle in for a hug, squeezing him tightly. “It is good to meet you, Kyle.”

“You too,” he murmured, feeling his cheeks warm as she pulled away and placed her hands on his shoulders.

“Any friend of my brothers is a friend of mine.” (Y/N) smiled. “Are you a superhero as well?”

He couldn’t help but toss a quick glance towards Jason who nodded. “Uh, yeah. I’m a Green Lantern.”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened in wonder, and she let go of his shoulders in favor of grabbing at his hands until she found his ring. She stared at it, murmuring quiet, ‘ooo’s and ah’s’. “That is simply amazing!” she chirped, looking at him, and then she silently gasped, raising his hand near his eyes. “Oh…your eyes are almost the same color as your ring.”

Her smile made Kyle’s heart beat a little faster as she expressed, “They are beautiful.”

They gazed at each other, too captivated in the moment to understand that the family had gathered around them by then. Someone’s hand curled around (Y/N)’s wrist and she looked over seeing Dick tugging her hand away.

“C’mon Princess, let’s go get your things on the belt.”

She smiled and followed, giving a small wave to Kyle, who returned hers shakily whilst grinning like a dope.

Someone elbowed him in the ribs, and he gasped, holding his side as Jason muttered, “Don’t ever stare at my sister like that again.”

Kyle blinked, glancing at him. “What’re you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, you goddamn skirt-chaser.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Kyle spluttered.

“You’re thinking about it.” Jason warned, pointing a finger in his face. “Make a move on (Y/N) and I’ll kill you with your own ring.” Kyle recoiled just as she and Dick were coming back, both holding a suitcase.

“Father!” she called, glancing at Bruce. “Dick and I have retrieved my luggage.”

He smiled at her. “Let’s go put it in the SUV then.” He paused, looking over the large group. He and Diana had ridden together, and since his children had fender-benders, they’d picked up Cass, Tim, Stephanie, Duke, and Damian; there wasn’t room for (Y/N) too.

“Father? Is something the matter?” (Y/N) was staring at him with concern.

“There’s not enough room in the SUV for you too. Maybe we—”

“There’s room in my car for (Y/N)!” Kyle blurted out, smiling nervously at Bruce. “I can follow behind you.”

Before anyone could screech ‘NO!’, mainly Dick and Jason, (Y/N) lit up like the morning sun. “Oh, that is a wonderful idea!” she grabbed onto Diana’s arm. “We should all stop for ice-cream though! Mother, what do you say?”

She smiled at her and leaned over, kissing her head. “I say that sounds like a fantastic idea, daughter.”

Kyle grinned and held out his arm for (Y/N), her giggling as she took it. “You know, I don’t live in Gotham, (Y/N), but I do know a good gelato store around the area.”

“What is gelato?” she asked, and he groaned.

“Oh, I can’t believe you don’t know what that is.” He started off, pilling her along, leaving everyone behind. “Don’t worry, I’ll show you.”

Jason’s face pinched and he looked over at Bruce. “Can I break the no-kill rule just once?”

Bruce blinked, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched his daughter laughing along with Kyle, both looking like newlyweds already. “Believe it or not, I’m strongly considering it.”

“Bruce.” Diana admonished. “Let (Y/N) and Kyle become friends. You know she doesn’t have many outside this family here.”

Dick growled. “Except Kyle doesn’t want to be friends with (Y/N), Diana. He wants to be her boyfriend.”

“They just met though?”

“Yeah, and Kyle’s a propose on week two type of man,” Jason griped. “Jesus Christ, this is going to be a disaster.”

“I don’t know about you guys, but (Y/N) and Kyle said gelato and you guys are just standing here.” Tim said. “Can we go now?”

[mggpleasedontlookhere]

call out my name

summary: y/n overhears jj confessing to spencer that she’s always loved him (do i even need to explain further how this made my heart drop into my ass)

word count: 3,118                                                                                     reading time aprox: 12 mins

masterlist

The blood ran cold in my veins, making my arms shiver. My face paled an ugly rouge as the words left JJ’s supple lips; each phrase that strung out from her confession wrenched a small piece of my heart each time. It felt like a laceration to my throat, like my oxygen supply had been severed and I was unable to catch my breath.

I love you.

I have always loved you.

My lifeless eyes never tore away from the monitor that laid in front of me. In crystal clear pixels, there lay Spencer and JJ tied up in a convenience store with the unsub and two hostages. My body was visibly tense and my lips parted in bewilderment; the physiological and mental tether that dictated my reactions delayed.

I hadn’t even noticed Penelope gaping at me with doleful eyes, turning off her intercom so the rest of the team was unable to listen in. Although the same idea must have run through their heads as they swapped disconcerted looks at each other.

“Oh - my sweet Y/N - I don’t, do you want - oh -” Penelope stuttered empathetically, pushing herself off of her chair to gather an array of toys to comfort me. “I can - oh you can borrow my purple giraffe, that always makes me hap-” She continued, pushing the plushies into my chest.

“No, no I’m - Garcia I’m okay - thank you...tho” I reassured, gently guiding her back to her seat, despite her pitiful protests. Before she had the chance to argue against my reassurance, her attention was captured by Tara’s voice on the intercom.

“Hey Garcia can you check the satellite feed and see if there’s a side door to the building?” Tara requested. Although her tone was apprehensive and tame like she was tiptoeing around the question.

“Affirmative” Garcia replied enthusiastically, reaching a gentle hand over to where my hands laid on her shoulders. She ran her delicate fingers over my knuckles in a way to say a silent ‘it’s going to be okay’, leaning her head back against my stomach with a tenderness in her gestures.

“And - uh - Y/N? Are you okay?” Tara tentatively asked, in which Garcia proceeded to look into my somber eyes with an expectant gaze. As I saw her through my peripherals, I knew that she could sense my true feelings about the situation. Her eyebrows softened and her red painted lips dropped into a pout. She tilted her head cutely in an attempt to grasp my attention, but I knew the second I locked eyes with her, my facade would eventually dissipate. With the persistence to direct my eyes away from her incessant gaze, she knew.

Before I had the opportunity to reply to Tara, Penelope had beat me to it. “Y/N! She uh - she’s in the bathroom...right now” She explained, mustering up the calmness in her voice to sound convincing. Fortunately enough, the case had been the focal point of the unit for the past week that Tara hadn’t noticed the panicked wince that left Penelope’s lips.

“Garcia just-” Tara sighed, making Penelope’s chest tense up and soften simultaneously. “Just make sure she’s doing fine. Did she hear what JJ said?” She spoke with a sense of concern laced in her sentences, hoping that I was unbeknownst to JJ’s profession.

“Uh-” Garcia paused, looking to me for an answer with wide eyes. I shook my head in denial, not wanting the team to know of my knowledge. As much as I valued our team being a family, I knew I would receive burdened looks and multiple ‘nonchalant check-ups’ from Rossi. I didn’t want the word ‘victim’ painted on my forehead. “-No, she left the room before JJ said anything” Garcia affirmed, nodding her head yes, regardless of her unable to be seen.

“That’s good. Listen I’ll call you back when we get on the jet and keep an eye on Y/-”

“Oh! Y/N’s coming back - see you guys later” Penelope rushed, ending the call instantly before Tara could get out another word.

She swiveled in her chair, facing me once again. She took my hands in hers, standing up to pull me into her tight embrace. I relaxed in her touch, letting all the feelings melt away with every soothing word that permeated the room. Pulling away, she took surveillance of my state and furrowed her eyebrows in worry.

But it wasn’t my poignancy that sparked her perplexity, it was the lack thereof.

My cheeks should’ve been stained by an onset of tears, but it wasn’t. My eyes should’ve masked a similar pearl glaze that coated the film on Penelope’s eyes, but it didn’t. I should’ve been disheveled and overrun by overbearing anguish, but I wasn’t.

-

The numbers on the elevator rose expediently, indicating the arrival of the team. My hands shook in disquiet and suspense, my focus glued to my shoes as I felt my entire body get antsy. Penelope stood in front of me whispering a mellow encouragement, suggesting alleviating mantras that usually worked to calm her down.

Without another word said, the doors to the elevator dinged and revealed exhausted, yet relieved, adults. Although in the midst of it all, there was a heavy air of reluctance that surrounded the reunion, despite the gleeful interactions that were expressed through Penelope’s endearments.

I reveled in the sight of it all, feeling my heart swell at the inspiriting display of affection made by the team; a feeling that is often uncommon with our careers. I stood with my shoulders slumped, hands folded in my pockets, and at a distance from their reconciliation. It was only until I met the eyes of Spencer that my entire body flinched; and it was when I hadn’t met JJ’s gaze as she stared at the floor, when my heart fell flaccid at the bottom of my stomach.  

I approached Spencer with a fictitious content expression, not wanting to confront the issue at bay. I noticed his facial features contort from uneasiness to relief as he reciprocated the reassuring smile I wore for him. He took this as his cue to take hurried strides towards me to encase me with his arms in a bone crushing hug. For a split second I wanted to believe the fervor that swelled inside me while I surrendered in his embrace, but the wandering eyes of JJ had convinced me otherwise.

Spencer cupped both of my cheeks in his course hands, enthusiastically pulling me in for a long awaited kiss. But by instinct I yanked my face away from his hands forcefully, catching him and myself by surprise.

“I - um, sorry. I was having sushi with Garcia earlier and I don’t think you want to smell tuna breath” I joked, wiping Spencer’s touch off of my hands.

“Don’t be silly Y/N I haven’t seen you i-” Spencer persisted, reaching out to handle my wrists.

“Wait Spence - Spencer - um Spencer, I forgot to mention that Diana called earlier to check on you” I interjected, a guilty gut feeling resurfacing as I used his mother as a cheap excuse to divert the conversation. “Oh well, I was actually planning to visit her soon and I was going to ask you if you want to come wi-”

“I- I don’t know Spencer” I laughed, keeping up the phony disguise that I hoped was effective enough to bypass the room of profilers. “I just have a lot of paperwork” I justified, feeling myself shrink under his incessant scrutiny. His lips curled into a small pout and his eyes dulled for a moment. I stiffened in response, paranoid that he had discovered a chink in my armor. “Next time?” I offered, compensating for the lack of ardor in my decisions.

Despite my attempts at assuring him, his expression was still left to alter. By now the formalities between the team had ended, resorting to directing their attention to me and Spencer. Backing away from where Spencer stood, I met the wondering gazes of my peers. I gave a cordial nod to all of them, ignoring the obvious trepidation that was evident in their body language.

Receiving a final look from Penelope, I walked back to my desk, letting them plan their festivities without me.

-

A few weeks flew by since the incident. Despite the passage of time, the latter of the situation still sat heavy in my thoughts, consuming every waking moment I had.

The bags under my eyes became more prominent, the youthful glow on my cheeks had dimmed, and my voice diminished to a low mutter. The input I had contributed to cases followed the change in my demeanor, exponentially depreciating as the numbness increased.

Whenever I sat on my chair, my eyes would linger between Spencer’s desk that sat across JJ’s. At times the sight would invoke a bubbling envy that felt too visceral for me to experience, so I would set my emotions to the side; averting my effort into my paperwork.

Eventually as the cases became more gruesome and my mental paralysis ensued, I gradually reverted to writing up the paperwork instead of participating in active cases. Unfortunately the unanticipated change in my behavior hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Emily called me into her office with a sense of urgency, and we’re both now here sitting across at a distance while she stared at me with a motherly look. Concentration was etched in her facial features, folding her hands together as she tried to dissect the impenetrable expression I wore.

“Emily please don’t profile me” I sighed, a tired grimace playing on my lips. Her shoulders slumped in defeat, leaning back into her chair as she continued to observe me. “I’m just worried Y/N - WE are all worried” She lamented, reaching over to grasp my hand. “You haven’t been yourself in a while Y/N. Did - is something, did something happen? Did you...find anything that made you upset?” She pursued, tiptoeing around the idea of JJ’s confession.

“NO! I, um - I haven’t - I just” I struggled to form coherent sentences, feeling panic flood through my system. “Look Emily, I appreciate the concern, but I’m just not feeling okay and I really don’t want to talk about it” I admitted. “I- I know it’s a lot, but w- would it be okay if I take a couple of personal days - I just can’t seem to figure myself out” I muttered, letting a fragment of my feelings slip into my profession.

“Take as many days as you’d like - and give me a call when things are...handled - just know that if you need anything - and I mean anything - you ca-”

“Thank you Emily” I nodded, cutting her off abruptly. I stood up from my seat with my head hanging low, giving her a tight lipped smile as I made my way to exit her office.

“Y/N!” She called out, stopping me in my tracks. I titled my head to the side, glancing at her. “Take care of yourself...please?” She desperately pleaded, her words laced with genuine concern.

For the first time, my heart ached at her words. The bitter feeling trickling into reality as the sorrowful eyes she beamed at me penetrated through my skin. It was then that I realized that the armor I wore to shield me from Spencer was really to shelter me from myself.

-

Spencer’s POV

My back slumped into the office chair while I played with the Doctor Who knick-knacks that Garcia had gifted to me at a Christmas party. My eyes were focused on the toy, but my mind had astral projected to another place: a place that wasn’t pleasant. The thoughts that were weighing heavy on shoulders had taken its toll on my arms, legs, and body like I was slowly being pulled away from reality into a dimension of isolation.

Although the only feeling I was allowed to experience was this nagging sensation in the back of my head, a thought that permeated my headspace, but wasn’t allowed to be identified or understood. I thought it was the aftermath of JJ’s confession, but that was handled during Rossi’s wedding.

For the first time in a long time, I didn’t know.

I didn’t know what had been circling in my head and I didn’t know how to control it. All I knew is that Y/N had taken a few sick days and that Emily had informed me that she hadn’t heard of JJ’s confession. But those days turned into weeks until a month had passed.

In the beginning of her leave, I’d call her everyday and occasionally visit her apartment whenever we were on a case, she would even call in to check on everybody. But like how the seasons change and the leaves start to decay, her efforts soon became stagnant. Soon after, my calls would be left unanswered, my visits to her apartment ceased due to no one responding, and she would only answer to Garcia.

I missed the way she would waltz into the office with the brightest grin she can offer and every time I’d look into her eyes, it felt like I had a glimpse into what heaven is. I missed the way she would curl up into my arms and breath in my scent, while we shared a book. I missed the way she’d bring the most wonderful orchestra to the moments where I felt my world become overrun by deafening silence. She had done nothing but bring love and devotion into everything she does.

So what dimmed the spark that usually burned interminably in her?

I set the trinket down to the side, taking a needed breath as my eyes were caught by a small picture frame that was delicately placed at the corner of my desk. An elated smile replaced the tired grimace I had been sporting all week, a newfound warmth filling my chest up with a familiar radiance.

It was a picture of Y/N when me and her had visited Central Park to ice skate. In the image she was in mid air, her eyes were shimmering against the snow that fell around us and she was laughing, a melody that I can still hear just by looking at a reminiscence of her. She was and still is the epitome of beauty.

I was taken out of my thoughts when a frantic Penelope zoomed through the bullpen with an unnerved look. She was caught in the arms of Emily, stopping her in her tracks and encouraging her to breathe. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes and her hair was disheveled.

“I - I, oh my god - I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry - I w- wasn’t, it’s my fault - I wasn’t honest” She sputtered out, her hands shaking beside her as she tried to form proper sentences.

By this time the team had surrounded her as they witnessed her frenzy. I watched from afar as JJ and Tara came to Penelope’s side, consoling her. Luke and Matt joined me, watching the event unfold from a distance like I did.

“Is- is she okay? Did something happen?” Luke inquired, his words laced with panic and worry. I shook my head looking to Matt if he had any intel, but he also denied it. “Okay, I’m gonna go and see what’s-” Luke began, before getting cut off by Emily announcing an emergency meeting.

We all gathered around the round table, anticipation engulfing the air and each one of our faces. Penelope sported a perturbed expression while Emily stood behind her with a similar troubled look.

I folded my hands on the table while my legs had gotten antsy from the silence as everyone filed into the room. Finally when everyone was seated, Luke was the first one to break the quietude. “Is everything okay Penelope?” He asked.

It didn’t take a profiler to notice how Emily’s behavior shifted when Alvez spoke. Her shoulders had flinched, her breath had shortened, and her hands had risen up to Penelope’s shoulder in an attempt to encourage her to elaborate. These were the indications that usually meant an onslaught of bad occurrences, but I only had understood Penelope’s concern when Y/N’s name had surpassed her lips.

“What - What do you - What do you mean Y/N?” I blurted out, feeling my heart drop into my stomach. My hands traveled to the pockets of my blazer, feeling sweat begin to accumulate in my palms. My breath hitched at the mention of her, hoping and praying that she was alright.

All the attention had been directed to me, but at the moment I would have cared less if Newton or Pascal was staring at me. It was as if my heart and my mind were tethered together to create a perfect storm that could obliterate me. I searched Penelope’s eyes for direct answers, but she refused to meet my gaze.

“Garcia!” I instinctively called out, making her flinch in terror, which I ultimately regretted as she was already in such a distressed state. “I- I’m sorry. Penelope...what’s happening with Y/N?” I whispered, softening the tone of my voice, cautious of letting my voice crack knowing that the team would dissect my reaction.

She sighed, looking to Emily for help in which Emily nodded at her to continue. “She knows” Penelope admitted, lifting her eyes to finally meet mine. “Sh- she heard what JJ said, and now she’s n- not even talking to me” She sighed, her breath hitching between every phrase she enunciated.

I felt my body freeze, but I didn’t know if it was either in fear, anger, or disappointment in myself. My emotions had become a cluster of hell that would continue to haunt me until I figured things out; until I could fix things with Y/N.

I sensed the apologetic glances I received from JJ, but despite my acknowledgement of her intentions, the festering indignation I was feeling against her had jaded any compassion I had.

“Spence-” JJ apprehensively spoke with a motherly tone.

“Don’t! I-”

My eyes were glued to the table, blocking out any attempt that the team made to pursue a conversation with me. My hands fidgeted as I racked my brain for a concise solution, although the process wasn’t as easy as I’d like since my conscious had been enveloping itself with self reproach. But in the end, I knew where I wanted to be - where I was meant to be.

Without a second thought, I promptly stood up from the chair and fled the bullpen with no attention to how JJ was calling out my name.

part 2

-

taglist: @rexorangecouny @howdycharlie

part 2 coming out tmrw or the day after that

see you soon <3

[leviiattacks]

Lmao Levi being irritated because reader, his roomate, who he still hasn't confessed to yet, gets a cat.

The cat hates Levi but loves reader and reader loves the cat too and it's basically Levi vs the cat someone help

note :: very rushed and not proofread i only wrote for fun because once again i am bed ridden with sickness ha ha the perks of always being sick i suppose T__T

lord, does levi despise the way you act without thinking sometimes

he’s legitimately appalled at how you can manage to always do shit like this

even more appalled at how he lets you get away with it every time

now, what is the shit you have done this time?

brought a cat home a CAT

first things first, you are allergic to cats so he does not understand how that predicament will fix itself

secondly, cats shed EVERYWHERE

as much as he enjoys cleaning he is not going to clean that up every day

thirdly, cats will ruin furniture and claw at it

as well as the curtains!!!!

and levi loves the curtains in the living room because the both of you picked them out together

though it was a struggle to get you interested enough to pick a pair you liked.

maybe that’s why he’s looking at you irked by this all

you’re holding the kitten in your arms playing around with her

“peek... a... boo!”

playing fucking peek-a-boo with a cat? he questions himself in his head

“y/n. we are not keeping the cat.”

at this you innocently look up at him through your lashes

god, there you go again doing that

he doesn’t know if you’re aware of the impact you have on him when you do that

he’s good at holding his composure but that look ignites something in him

but he always has to push that something down his throat

“c’mon, you’d be the best roomie ever if you let me keep her!”

his eyes narrow at the word roomie

is that all he is to you?? a roomie???

you’re holding the cat up alongside your face and are fake pouting

“you. are. allergic. to. cats.” he punctuates every word clearly

“how do you know that?” you ask reasonably shocked he knows something that obscure and random about you

“you like talking about yourself when you’re drunk.”

a memory of him helping you throw up whilst he carefully holds your hair out of your face flashes past

if it were anyone else he wouldn’t have got anywhere near them if they were throwing up

but it was you,

it was always you.

“you rambled on and on and on about wanting a cat as a kid but not getting one because of your allergies.”

“so you would also know-” the cat tries to scratch your arm and you retract giggling

“that i really want a cat!”

“does that change your allergies? poof oh wow y/n you’re no longer allergic to shitty cats because you want one.”

you roll your eyes at his deadpan expression and pessimism

“if you knew anything about cats you would know this is a cornish rex” you now rebuttal

“a fucking what?”

“hypoallergenic cat breed! my allergies to cats are mild so it’s the perfect cat for me”

the crease between his eyebrow deepens.

“do you forget that we live in this apartment together?”

you scrunch your nose looking at your little buddy who has now settled in your lap “how could i forget that?”

he knows you see him as nothing more than a roommate

levi loves you he does but you don’t know that

but part of him thinks you do because you always give him that look when you want something

you’re doing it again.

the look.

“fuck. fine but if that thing coughs up a hair ball she’s out.”

“AAAHH THANK YOU I LOVE YOU LEVI!!!!” you’re ecstatic

his breath traps itself in his throat when he hears that

how can you carelessly say i love you??

you’re happily looking between him and the cat and hand her over to levi

“hold her you’re the dad”

“so you’re the...?” he asks

“i’m the...???” you’re clueless

he shakes his head waving it off

it takes you a moment to understand what he’s asking then your eyes widen

“ohhh the mum? yeah that would be me”

it’s so stupid, so stupid, so so so stupid he repeats it in his head the whole scenario is stupid

but it doesn't stop him from smiling like an idiot

in recent days you’ve given her the names diana, garfield and casper

sadly, none of then seem to stick because you’re too indecisive

it’s got to the point where you barge into levi’s room without asking

you’re in your pyjamas he looks at you confused as to why you’ve walked in with no permission at 2am

in a cucumber face mask...?

“name the cat please, name the cat i can’t stick to a name i’m going to rip my hair out“ you’re gripping at your hair groaning in frustration.

“edgar’

first suggestion, too ugly.

you shake your head

“candy“

second suggestion, no, just no.

you shake your head again in refusal

“zero?“

yeah, no.

another shake of the head

levi ponders and thinks hard “...angel?’

you blush, jump back and look more than startled

fumbling with your fingers awkwardly you edge closer towards the door

he just eyes you weirdly wondering what causes that reaction

well, you must like the name

“is it good enough?” he asks

you’re speechless not knowing what to actually say

“y/n...????”

you snap out of it

“isn’t that something you’d call a significant other not a cat?”

and for once in your life you actually seem kinda annoyed at him

“your cat is an angel in your eyes that’s the point” he’s explaining his point but you aren’t listening

you don’t know why levi saying that word makes your heart race

that’s why you’re annoyed right now

in fact it’s not that you’re annoyed. you’re scared that it triggers this response because this is levi.

levi, your roommate the same roommate who argues about pizza toppings with you. he’s nothing more than that.

but your cheeks continue to flush behind the cucumber face mask

“i’ll ask someone else what to name him just call him salad for now” without letting him get a word in you leave but somehow you forget the cat

salad turns to levi and gives him what can only be described as a menacing look.

“you happy you annoying shit? y/n’s annoyed because i can’t name you”

your cat jumps at him and tries to scratch at a piece of flesh but is held off easily

one cold look from levi and she stops.

“get out my room you pest.” he says as he places the cat on the floor

salad scurries away and levi rolls his eyes

he hates that cat he really does

a few hours pass levi is still up he’s always found it hard to sleep

it’s been a long day he’s just finished a thesis for his physics degree and stretches out contently

to say he’s tired is an understatement but his throat is dry and he needs to DESPERATELY hydrate

he gets to his feet and ventures into the kitchen to retrieve some water then he’ll knock out like a log and fall asleep.

the pitch of your snoring can be heard and he smiles to himself silently.

it’s all good, he’s sure you’re getting all the sleep you need.

“GRRRE”

there it is,

the little fucker, your cat is still up.

“what is it little shit?” levi asks leaned up against the surface of the counter.

salad is only staring at him blankly before turning to look over at the living room.

it’s dim the lights are switched off but levi feels something is feels off

“the hell did you do?” he asks

but salad shows no signs of breaking and revealing what it is she’s done

levi’s going to have to investigate

stepping towards the living room he flicks the lights open.

eyes survey the entire area everything looks good until he sees the way the drapes have been ripped apart

salad is picked up in one swoop she sees how levi is about to throw her out the front door and panics

meowing and struggling just in the nick of time she jumps before running away and slipping into the safety of your bedroom

groaning levi goes back to the living room to see if he’s missed anything.

well, god damn him.

scratches litter the leather furniture, it almost looks like a crossword.

salad has also conveniently taken a shit behind the sofa,

and to top it all off she’s left a dead mouse in the middle of the living room floor

levi. is. infuriated.

“you should thank her for catching the mouse”

you’re hurriedly eating some toast levi has made for you as you brush your hair out and gather it into a low ponytail

“look at the drapes y/n??” he’s exasperated and trying to make sense of your logic

“i didn’t like the drapes anyway we needed new ones.”

you aren’t taking this seriously at all and it’s getting on his nerves now

he runs a hand through his hair and glares at you “i told you taking the cat in was a bad idea”

your hair tie snaps and so do you

all the doubts from yesterday are eating you away. the question still lingers in your mind - how do you really feel about levi?

“do you have to have an opinion on everything i do? you’re my roommate not my boyfriend.”

it’s your fault for letting your anger and stress get the better of you. to be frank you have no clue why you’ve gone and said that.

if you’re honest with yourself you know he’s not a roommate. he’s not a friend either but at the same time he’s definitely not a boyfriend.

he’s more than a friend to you but you don’t think he sees you similarly.

oh how wrong you are

“roommate?”

levi’s question is filled with not an ounce of humour, the both of you know that.

oddly, he sounds displeased,

but you can’t take it back now.

and you hate backing down

“what?” you scoff

he shakes his head and makes his way to the front door not turning to look at you.

“get a grip on that cat otherwise i’m throwing it out”

SLAM!

you’ve done it, you’ve messed it up.

salad jumps up on the counter and licks your toast

maybe, he is right about the cat.

the rest of the week is incredibly busy you have an important economics presentation due today and you’ve done everything you need to prepare for it.

at least that’s what you think,

you’re stood in front of the class introducing yourself and everything seems to be going smoothly

price determination within the economic market might as well be advertised as a sleeping pill because you don’t know how you can get anyone interested enough to keep their eyes open.

but putting your best foot forward an attempt is still made.

“the buyers and sellers accept this price, and buy and sell accordin-”

you’re abruptly cut off by your professor who coughs and then proceeds to leer at you in disgust.

a few moments of silence pass and you can feel your heart hammer in your chest.

suddenly he points at the door,

he’s known for being harsh, strict and a stingy marker but it’s not as if you’ve shown up with nothing done...?

in fact this is the largest amount of effort you’ve put into your economics course since you’ve started it.

being in your usual seasonal slump has held you back but now you’re actually trying he’s saying it’s not good enough?

“your presentation. it’s awful. not enough effort put into it, leave for today.” his voice is rumbling and intimidating.

you’re stunned, you’ve worked tirelessly day and night to finish this off.

you’ve even had to cry over not knowing or understanding how to make pie charts.

interpreting data has never been your strong suit.

too embarrassed to ask for help you had to spend hours figuring out how to make it all work alongside your excel chart and spreadsheet

sighing heavily you speak up “professor i’ve spent a lot of time on this?”

“i looked through the slides. dog shit.” his response is fiery and you shudder at the boiling frustration he’s shooting right at you.

arguing in front of the lecture hall is not what you wish to do and you’re sure you aren’t going to be the only person sent out this way.

just retreat y/n 

you do.

the professor is clearly in a bad mood and taking it out on you, there’s nothing you can do about it.

wordlessly you gather your belongings and leave.

as you trudge back home the feeling of not being good enough sinks in your stomach like a heavy anchor at sea.

entering through the front door is a task and a half through your glossed over eyes but somehow you manage

you’ve kept salad in your room for most of the time after your argument and she seems to actually miss levi’s presence.

so when the first thing you see as soon as you enter is salad clawing at his bedroom door begging to be let in you aren’t surprised.

thankfully for you he’s yet to return from class and hasn’t been disturbed by the sounds.

at least that’s what you assume.

you look at salad and start sobbing

you wish you were a cat.

cats don’t get shit on for fucking up economics presentations that’s for sure.

shaking you try to hold yourself up against one of the walls

frankly, school stress is getting to you.

you tried hard on that presentation only for it to fail when it was worth a quarter of your grade.

A QUARTER...

TWENTY FIVE PERCENT...

salad nuzzles herself against your leg and you lean over to pick her up

she licks at your ear, it tickles and you laugh in between sobs

“you sure are good at comforting people huh?” you’re so worn out your laugh sounds half dead.

it’s all so pathetic. you standing in your living room wailing as you hold your pet cat like a baby.

but she doesn’t mind and let’s you cry to your hearts content.

“MEOW” salad loudly squeaks and you stroke her back but she only keeps at it “MEOWWWW.”

sensing that she’s bringing something to your attention you turn around

there stands levi awkwardly waving at you and you instinctually cover your face with your arm.

the smudged mascara is none of his business.

“wanna order pizza and talk about it?”

pursing your lips at the proposition you slowly lower your arm and scratch at the sleeve of your shirt.

"yeah, i’d love that.”

“KICKED YOU OUT THE LECTURE HALL?? YOU WORKED ON THAT FOR DAYS Y/N, DAYS??”

levi is beyond pissed he hasn’t even touched the second slice of his pizza after hearing how your presentation played out.

“it’s okay, it was probably going to go bad i can’t do anything right.”

levi’s silver eyes fog up in annoyance and you shut yourself up.

“you are the most able person i have met.”

head rocking up in surprise the confession is news to you.

“really?“

“you’re great at making pad thai, somehow you convinced me to keep that cat, i remember that other time you convinced a first year to bungee jump off a building for last years charity fundraiser.”

it truly is endearing how he doesn’t call you smart or witty or hard-working. none of that basic nonsense you’ve heard time and time again from everyone else.

the fact he’s naming the most random things makes your heart swell.

you burst into laughter remembering the first year’s quivering form and you wonder why levi even remembers that.

“if salad bothers you that much i could find a friend to look after her.”

levi looks at you like he’s just come face to face with a ghost.

“no? i like her, she might frustrate me and get in the way when i want to-” he stops himself fumbling over his sentence.

“when you want to?“ you’re leaning in closer intrigued what the rest of the sentence is.

shock flashes over his face but the next second it disappears.

taking a gulp of his water seemingly in preparation he looks you right in the eye.

“when i want to kiss you.”

and that’s all it takes for you to tug him by the shirt and slam his lips against yours, you giggle into the kiss as you situate yourself in his lap. hands ghosting over your hips he’s disoriented not sure where to place his palms but you don’t care. you’ve been waiting for this and despite his sloppy response the fact you’re finally doing what you’ve been fearing the most these past few weeks is only filling you with adrenaline.

“settle down.” he’s panting heavy and ragged. “i was meant to initiate it and look cool what the fuck??” he’s not mad, he’s just playing with you but that doesn’t stop you from getting into the role.

“and if i don’t settle?” you mischievously ask, levi’s hands are cupping your jaw he pushes your hair out of your face and simply gazes in awe.

he makes you feel so beautiful, it’s unreal.

“meow...” salad’s dissatisfied whining can be heard and then out of nowhere in one fluid motion she jumps onto levi’s chest.

“salad if you don’t mind i’m trying to make out with your dad.” you explain with a frown.

she doesn’t budge and instead a trickling sound can be heard, then a foul smell floats into the room and levi screams.

“Y/N THE LITTLE SHIT IS PEEING ON ME???”

[critical-engine]

So, I made a thing and now it's going to be here for everyone cruising through.

1325 words, romance short story, Enjoy!

I tried to keep myself in check, but the way I almost kicked down the door was probably a giveaway. I heard her coming right behind me and refused to look at her, instead settling on one of the tables of the classroom. “So, you wanted to talk.” I noticed the venom on my tone, but it wasn’t the time to back down.

She sighed deep, talking at me from the door. “It’s about… Well, you know what’s about.” She sounded tired, almost dragging herself to talk. “It’s just that I’m sorry for how I treated you, Say.”

I felt my cheeks flush and my head heating, but from anger rather than the endearment from a couple days ago. “I thought it was Sasha, now.” I crossed my arms. “Or is that only in mixed company?”

I heard her shuffling in place, and I felt my anger rising. “That’s what I wanted to talk about.” My brain froze for a second. Was she listening to herself? “It’s just that I haven’t had a lot of time to think this through…” I felt my expression change, surprise taking over. She wasn’t about to say anything like that, right? “I didn’t even talk about any of this with the girls, let alone the rest… A-And I don’t think I’d like any r-rumors getting around, you know…?”

I looked at her straight in the face, dumbfounded. She immediately froze under my gaze, looking like she was about to run out of the classroom. Her hands were halfway to her head, holding her palms open to me. Her brow and face were sweaty, and her expression was completely neutral, a perfect nondescript mask. “Diana.” She almost jumped at her name. “You were the one that kissed me.”

At that the mask broke down, being replaced by as many conflicting elements as one face could hold. Her mouth curled up into a tiny smile, cheeks flushing, but her brow furrowed with concern, her hands clasped each other above her heart, but the air around her became heavy and tense.

I almost jumped up from my seat. “Weren’t you the one that started sweet-talking me into going here and there and where else for like the last couple of months?” I walked toward her slowly. “Didn’t you insist on taking me out again and again by ourselves, looking through stores and all that?” I stopped right in front of her. My pulse quickened and my confusion faded almost immediately. “Wasn’t it you that fed me compliments, pick-up lines and couldn’t stop looking at me?” I looked straight into her eyes, watching her warring expressions settling slowly into a relaxed gaze. My hand instinctively rose to her cheek. “And I’m pretty sure it was you who did this, no?” She closed her eyes gently, I could feel my heart pounding behind my ears as I leaned in, each second stretching out. “And then…”

The moment our lips touched, it was like a spell broke. The contact between us cut through the tension like it wasn’t there, suddenly the sweat in her face, my pounding heart, her nervousness, my anger, it all dissolved into a flutter in my heart and the soft caress between our lips. I tried to move an inch back, but she took a full step into the moment, wrapping her right arm behind my back. The kiss she gave back was much more ravenous, like she was sating a long hunger. Her lips parted once, twice, inexpertly searching for her fill. I gave myself up and opened my mouth, reaching with my tongue-

She squealed and jumped back, almost crashing against the door. Her face was completely flushed an unreal pink, with her face still lightly shining, her long hair a bit out of place with her jump, and her eyes holding a strange, layered look. On the surface, she watched me carefully, worried almost, like I had just crossed a line. Right under that, it was clear she was actually focusing on me in a complete daze, her mind either awash with emotions or on another planet. But under both of those, I thought they saw something they liked, something they had seen in different lights these past few days, and wanted to look under many more lights in the future. A playful, yearning look, worried it shouldn’t be in those eyes, in that face, looking out at me.

I felt a playful smile on my lips, maybe there since we parted. My breath was a bit uneven, much like hers. I took a breath, then spoke again, clasping my hands behind my back. “Was that you, Day?”

That took her out of her reverie, snapping her back into reality. She fumbled with her words for a moment, then sighed, almost groaning, and answered. “It was me, Say. I just…” She fidgeted in place uncomfortably, running both hands through her hair. “I need time to talk with everyone. For me.”

The teasing spirit left me completely. “Day, I get that.” I mulled the next words in my mind very carefully. “I only want to be there for you, to help you. And today you pushed me away so… pointedly.”

“I didn’t want to, I’m sorry.” Almost predicting a protest, she quickly added. “I know what I said, and did, but I thought you were… moving too fast?” Again, seeing me raising an eyebrow, she corrected. “You know I have no idea what to do or say for the others, or how they’ll react, like, they obviously accepted you when you came out, but maybe I’ll do something dumb? Or someone will change how they see me? Maybe-“

“Maybe you’re overthinking.” I crossed my arms again, taking the turn to speak. “You’re just inexperienced when it comes to this, like everyone is coming out. It’s a thing you only do once, after all.” A thought struck out. “Well, once for each person who you separately come out to, but the impact only happens a few times.” I shook my head, getting back before side-tracking. “Whatever, that’s what I want to be there to help with. The girls will be a great place to start, because they won’t say anything if they value their lives.” She let out a single chuckle. “Then you can see how you feel saying it out loud, saying it to different people. It’s easier once you jump into it, Day.”

Her face, still completely flushed, looked more embarrassed than anything, holding a different kind of tension. I grabbed her hands, feeling a light squeeze from her. I again leaned into her, moving my face closer and closer, then…

“You’ve got it, Day.” I whispered, inches away from her lips. I pulled back slowly, watching her face, eyes closed, brow slightly furrowed, lips barely, barely open. Her expression changed quickly into a more worried frown, lips closed, before peeking with one of her eyes.

I laughed a little and pulled back entirely. “You t-tease.” She barely got out, running a hand through her hair again, her pose stiff and off by a bit. After a breath, she was steadier. “I’ll tell you when I talk to Mary or Sara, yeah? I want to think of how to say it.”

I held back from telling her to just say lesbian once out loud right there, probably for the best in the moment. “If you need to, then fine. Just remember to talk to me if you need to.”

She quickly promised to do just that, and I promised not to tease her like that in general, keeping to myself that I might if she ended up liking it. We ended up walking back home together, but I couldn’t get out of my head that mystical moment when we kissed, how the rest of the world disappeared for a second, with just us, just that feeling remaining, just the taste of her lips and her desire for more.