#also sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes

[thesunisatangerine]

against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part two

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: implied sexual content

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 2.5k

You weren’t sure what woke you at first but when you opened your eyes, you found the brilliant, early morning light that streamed through a crack in the curtains. Groaning, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, not missing the unmistakable rustling of clothes somewhere at the foot of the bed. 

Peeking over the sheets to the source of the sound, you found Ale working to put her pants back on, her bare back to you. You propped yourself against the headboard as you watched on, biting your lip at how Ale’s tattoos deliciously shifted over her rippling muscles. She picked something up from the floor before she turned towards the bed and you caught sight of the darkening marks on her neck and chest. When she saw you looking at her, she smiled, a little bashful, which you returned in kind.

“What time is it?” You cringed at how you croaked out the words.

“Early. You should go back to sleep.” Ale said, putting her bra on as she kept your gaze.

You hummed. “I could say the same for you.”

Ignoring what she said you sat up on the bed, allowing the sheets to slide down and settle by your waist as you stretched. Ale’s eyes wandered to your chest which, you supposed, bore the same marks you could see on hers, and you relished the attention. Once she found your eyes again, you sent her a knowing smirk before you left the bed, headed to the closet where you grabbed the nearest fresh shirt you had, and tossed it to Ale. 

Without even looking at the shirt, she caught it with ease. You raised your brow, both in question and in wonder. In response, Ale just smiled innocently at you. Ale pulled the shirt over her head, hiding the marks from view, then she moved towards you, her eyes dark and shining with intent.

Your body remembered last night’s endeavours before you did: every nerve in your skin lit up in anticipation for Ale’s touch, a fuse waiting for a spark. She laced an arm around your waist and pulled you flush to her front with a strength that left you breathless, her clothed body firm against your bare flesh. Without your heels she almost towered over you that you had to stand on your toes to wrap your arms around her neck. You closed your eyes when you felt the words she spoke against your temple.

“As much as I’d love to stay, I have to go.”

You sighed, unable to hide your disappointment. But what did you expect? You knew what you were getting into last night–you knew this was meant to only be a one-time thing. Besides, you were never one for relationships anyway; all your dalliances were brief and fleeting, ending before they ever got serious. Still, something about Ale pulled you to her, a force that compelled a desire to get to know her. The logical part of you already accepted the fact that you’d probably never see her again after this, but a small part of you wanted to rebel and resist that fate. 

Unsurprisingly, logic won out.

“I shouldn’t keep you, then,” you whispered against her collarbone. Ale shivered and that made you smile: it’s good to know you weren’t the only one still feeling the effects from the previous night.

“You’re not making this easy,” she whined and you laughed. 

“Alright, alright. I guess it’s time for me to let you go.”

There was a moment of silence but not an uncomfortable one. You looked at her, soaked in how her features caught the morning light, how her fair hazel eyes almost appeared like twin golden suns. You were tempted to kiss her lips then but you settled for a chaste one on her cheek instead. “Keep the shirt, to remember me by and… a thank you for last night. It was wonderful.”

“I had a good time, too,” she hummed, a small smile on her lips. 

You returned her smile, and then you gently pushed her away as you took a step back. “Go, Ale.”

Ale stood there for a moment more, took one last look at you, gave you one last smile and she was out of the bedroom. When you heard the front door shut, you sighed again as something akin to regret settled in your bones. Maybe you should’ve at least asked for her number…

“So… did you have fun?” A deep voice filtered through the speaker before you saw the familiar mop of blonde hair and blue eyes on your screen. You rolled your eyes at his dry tone but you smiled nonetheless.

“Oh hi, Derek, I’m doing fine! Thank you for asking!”

Derek gave you an unimpressed look. “Come on. I need details cause that club was exclusive for a reason. So, did you hook up with someone?”

“Dude, stop! That’s so–” you shook your head, a palm over your face. You swore if he wasn’t family you would’ve… you breathed through your nose. “Thank you for the pass and everything but I’m not obligated to tell you shit.”

“Fine, I see how it is. Just ‘cause I’m not there you’re keeping secrets from me now, huh?” He raised an exaggerated eyebrow. 

“Then maybe you should’ve come here with me,” you retorted with faux annoyance. “What’s the point of you owning a house in Barcelona if you’re not going to use it? It’s literally rotting here! The fact that you haven’t even put any personal things in here is criminal!”

“And let this agency burn down to the ground while both of us are away? Pfft, yeah, right!” Derek scoffed. “You know it’s either you or me who can keep watch around here. Besides, the house can wait and you’re using it now, right? So, a win-win in my book.”

He was right but you weren’t about to tell him that so you opted to change the topic. “How are things on your end anyway?”

“Chaotic, as usual. And it doesn’t help we’re now down two–actually, three including you–of our best in the Spot News department.”

At that, you sat up from the couch, alarm and dread filled your body and you brought the phone closer to you. “Oh my god, did something happen?” 

Derek sighed heavily, his demeanour clouded over as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “It was Jones and Gilda–they’re stable, don’t worry!–they got caught in a flash flood on the way to the base at their area. Sick with some minor injuries, Jones more so than Gilda, but thankfully they’re both okay.”

At that, you breathed out in relief. You were well acquainted with the dangers that came with your job but you could never get used to how quickly a situation could get from bad to worse. The mere thought was enough to turn your hands cold. 

“When did this happen?”

“Early morning today in our timezone.”

“Oh, fuck. Derek, why didn’t you call me?!”

“Dude, you’re on leave. And it’s not that I didn’t want to let you know, I just wasn’t about to wake you up in the middle of the night to give you this headache. I’m just about done with the paperworks anyway.” A moment silence, then Derek sighed. “You really chose the worst time to go on leave. You know, I had to send Jersey to start covering Spot.”

“Not my fault you authorised it. I was happy to wait another month, remember? Wait, so if Jersey is doing Spot, who’s doing Sports?”

“I know, I know, don’t remind me ‘cause I’m already regretting it. And no one’s doing it. Spot coverage is more important but–”

“–we get a decent sum from Sports, too,” you finished for him. You did some quick estimation in your head: a month or two without Sports could prove costly, too great of a sum to let go. You hummed, rubbing your chin, but it didn’t take you long to realise that you could help out, your mind immediately fleeted to your conversation with Ale and her suggestion.

“I’ll cover it, Derek.”

“No. You’re supposed to be enjoying your leave–”

“Derek.” You fixed a stern gaze at him, the one you knew that he knew meant your mind was made up. Then you proceeded to reassure him that it was fine, and then you told him about your plan. “Alright, then, I’ll leave the press passes to you.”

“I’ll e-mail them to you once I get ‘em, most likely by tonight your time. I–” 

“Derek, you got to see–” Another voice filtered through the speaker while you watched as Derek turned his head to the side and held his hand up to whoever it was before returning his focus back to you.

“Okay, as much as I’d love to keep talking to you, Robert just brought me a huge stack of paper so I’m going to bail.” 

“Alright. Have fun, you. Talk to you later.”

“Ha ha, very funny. But seriously, thank you.”

“No worries. Kiss Mom for me when you see her.”

“I will. Love you, sis.”

“I love you, too.”

After calling Jones and Gilda to ask about their condition and to send them your well wishes, you decided to spend the rest of your day at the nearby square and the beach. A day as good as this wasn’t meant to be wasted by staying inside so you grabbed several rolls of film and your beloved Leica camera before heading out. 

It was already late afternoon when you found yourself trudging along the shoreline of one of Barcelona’s beaches, appreciating the orange-tinged skies and how the gulls called from above. When you looked to the horizon, you found a mother and her little daughter paddle-boarding just a hundred meters from the shore. You could see almost no details in the shadows of their silhouette but the large setting sun framed them in such a way that you felt to take a shot of the moment. So you adjusted your aperture accordingly, pressed the viewfinder against your brow, lined up your shot, and pressed the shutter.

“I thought you looked familiar… And I was right.”

Your thumb froze over the advance lever when you heard someone speak from somewhere behind you. That voice… could it be?

You whipped your head over your shoulder and found none other than Ale standing there. She was wearing a pair of jean shorts, a white opened blouse that put her toned abs and Nike sports bra on display, loose hair slightly damp, with a leash in one hand that lead to a small, fluffy dog. She also had on a pair of black wraparound sunglasses that she moved to the top of her head, revealing her hazel eyes that captivated your gaze immediately.

You could hardly believe your eyes and your luck; you already accepted her fleeting presence in your life but to meet her again in a city as big as Barcelona without any means of contact… that surely was nothing short of a miracle.

“Ale, hi! I–I never thought I’d see you again,” you said after you finally found your voice but as soon as the words left your mouth, your cheeks warmed. What were you supposed to say to a one night stand in this situation, especially when you clearly wanted it to happen again?

“Me neither. I should thank Nala for dragging me out here.” Ale grinned as she glanced down at her dog by her feet. You crooned as you bent down, then you offered your hand first and only after Nala licked your knuckles did you proceed to pet her.

“Thank you, Nala, for taking your owner for a walk.” At that, a hearty laugh came from Ale which caused Nala, who seemed to be overjoyed by the sound of her owner’s delight, to yip and wag her tail. And just as quickly as she had, she seemed to get bored and began to bound forward, urging Ale to move as well so you stood up, brushed the sand from your palms, and fell in step with her. 

For a moment, the space between you was filled by the sound of the waves, the sound of the shifting sand beneath your feet, and the ever-bustling noise from the city. Then you recalled your conversation with Derek this morning.

“I thought about what you said, about covering women’s football. I’m going to be given a press pass for a match, not sure which one they’ll give me, though. But do you know of any big matches coming up?”

“Really? That’s great! Do you have any particular team in mind or…?”

“Research is still on my to-do list so no, not really. I’m all ears for suggestions, though.”

“I see. Well, there is this match coming up: Real Madrid and Barcelona. Since you don’t know, there’s rivalry between the two teams so any match between them tends to get crowded. You should come watch.” 

“That sounds like a good one. I hope that’s what they’ll get me into. Will you be there?”

“I hope so, too. And yes, I’ll be there.” As she said this, her eyes shone with a glint not dissimilar to what you saw in them the night you met. Her lips tilted to the side, closed but quirked at the corners like she was holding in a laugh. If it weren’t already clear that night, it was now–you were definitely missing something here.

“What?” You asked, confused. What was she not telling you? But at the question, Ale only let out a small giggle, grinning as she did so.

“Nothing, nothing,” she said, shaking her head. You didn’t believe her but you let it slide one more time and the fact that she looked so distracting didn’t help either.

She had her head turned to you, her loose hair framed her face and strands fluttered in the cool, ocean breeze. You had to tilt your head up slightly to meet her eyes and, without any bidding, memories from that night and the morning after filtered through your mind: the way she held you against her, the way you wanted her to stay… maybe you should ask her if she was free tonight.

“–what do you have in mind?”

You blinked. “What?”

Ale threw her head back, letting out another hearty laugh before she looked at you and you saw amusement swimming in her eyes. Then, she continued with a smirk, “you asked if I was free tonight. I said yes. Or… was I not meant to hear that?”

Your ears and cheeks burnt while you internally cursed your slippery tongue.  That was smooth. Real smooth. “Ummm…”

You woke the next morning with a delicious soreness between your thighs, a pleasant reminder of the way Ale ravished you last night. Similar to the first morning after, you heard the rustling of clothes being put on. But before you could fully open your eyes, warmth from Ale’s lips branded the skin on your shoulder. 

“I have to go. See you next time?” Ale murmured softly. You shifted slightly to the side and you saw how the sunlight behind her gilded her hair with an amber halo and made her eyes appear like molten gold. 

Brushing a loose strand behind her ear, you hummed in confirmation and pressed your forehead sleepily against the sharp line of her jaw, closing your eyes as you did so and you whispered, “you know where to find me.”

[bonicedemandarina]

Click for better quality!

Hey guys I'm still into wha btw, here's my art for the deciduous spells zine, just wanted to draw my favorite guys being happy for once.

I feel like my art always ends up being in a modern au idk how, it just keeps happening

[justaz]

lance who has always hidden his insecurities under grandeur and humor. a huge ego paired with an inflated sense of pride. he is someone who is confident and cocky, but he exaggerates it in response to the deep rooted belief that he is not enough, that he is ordinary at best, lackluster at worst. he grew up as the baby in a huge family which came with a lot of coddling, yes, but his achievements had been made time and time again which made them expectations rather than milestones. the first time he truly shone was when he got into the garrison, something no one in his family had done before, something to be celebrated. he worked his ass off at the garrison to be top of his class, to be a fighter pilot, to reach the stars - to be the first of his family to reach space. who could too that? no matter how long he spent studying or training, he still tested into the cargo pilot class. it wasn’t the worst but it wasn’t what he wanted. he fell short by a measly three points. it was infuriating.

lance worked his ass off even more. he wanted to be something, he wanted to be noticed, he wanted to be praised, he wanted to be celebrated. he never made it. there was one student that caught his eye though - keith kogane. a living, breathing legend. he tested at the top of their class. miles above the other students. completely untouchable. despite his reputation, his grand achievements, keith never cared. he was never in the library studying or spending his free time on the flight sims. he rarely made it to class on time. he didn’t care. yet he was the best of the best. iverson gave him a hard time but it was clear to everyone that even iverson admired him and his skill, his talent. even lance admired him. he wanted to be like him, he wanted to be him. he was rejoiced, he was celebrated, he was praised, he was admired and he didn’t even try. lance pushed harder and harder but only ended in burning himself out. he crumbled under the pressure while keith didn’t seem to notice it. lance loved him but also hated him. then he was gone. and lance was a fighter pilot. barely.

iverson, now with one less eye, loathed that. he gave lance scorn and belittlement, compared him to keith at every turn and went on and on about his failings, about how he’d never be keith, about how he didn’t deserve keith’s space in the class. lance hated iverson, lance hated keith, lance hated himself. he just had to try harder. he was more deserving of all of it than keith. he never cared, he didn’t want what he was blessed with. lance fought tooth and nail for it. he deserved it. he rose a bit in the fighter pilot class and kept fighting, iverson kept ridiculing and humiliating, keith’s name remained at the top of the boards. as the year passed, his name overtook name after name until he was below keith, three points behind. almost, almost, almost, almost…

then they were in space. kidnapped by giant, sentient, mechalions. fighting in an intergalactic war. unable to return home. the years of resentment lance held for keith came to surface in close quarters with the man and he relished in every challenge that he won and despised every challenge he lost. he worked his ass off to get better until he could rechallenge keith until he won. he wasn’t sure when their rivalry became tinged with friendship, but he didn’t hate it. he should’ve, but he didn’t. it was keith’s disregard for his own amazement that infuriated lance. he was gifted and never cared for it. he was everything lance wanted and it was like it meant nothing to him. like he would trade it all at the drop of a hat if he could. yet, keith was fun, in an odd way. awkward and funny, a little prickly around the edges but a soft, gooey marshmallow heart under it all. lance knew it. he saw keith tear up at a couple of cute babies of some species on some planet as they played.

then shiro went missing and keith was forced into the role of leader and he very clearly did not want it. again, lance felt a flicker of annoyance. the role of black paladin, the pilot of the black lion, that was something lance had wanted. not at the expense of shiro, not at the expense of anyone, but he could be leader. he could lead the paladins of voltron in the fight against the galran empire. he could be revered on every planet they freed from tyranny, his name would live on forever. no one would overshadow him. yet, now keith stood in the shadow of the black lion, his face pinched and his eyes dark. he had lost his brother twice now and was being forced into leadership, he was now the one to make all the decisions for the team of (mostly) teenagers against the empire that had terrorized the universe for over ten thousand years.

lance stomped on the flicker of annoyance and put it out as he strode forward and stood beside keith. he spoke lowly, gently. he wasn’t sure how, but the right words spilled forth. keith’s shoulders relaxed and his scowl eased to a faint frown. he stepped into his role as leader. he was still as impatient and impulsive, he was quick to anger and often blinded by it. lance was there for it all. he held keith back, became his patience and impulse control. he quelled his anger when he could and talked sense into him when keith was already fired up. in return, keith gave him trust and gave him power. to outsiders, it seemed like it always had since the birth of voltron - the black paladin, the leader, and the red paladin, the right hand. but in all actuality, it was more the black and red paladins, leaders of voltron. the final decision rested with keith, but he never made a choice without lance’s input. lance made the plans and keith approved of them. lance talked at the diplomatic meetings while keith put on a brave face and played nice for a few hours.

then shiro came back and keith stepped down. lance felt as if he had finally found his footing. lance and keith, leaders of voltron, best friends. and now keith was leaving. lance watched keith walk away as he supported hunk and his tears. lance retreated to his own room and found traces of keith in every nook and cranny. hell, the damn castle ship could be traced back to keith in lance’s mind. ever since he stepped foot in the garrison, everything was tied to keith - the school legend, top of the class, best fighter pilot in their generation, the crazy man breaking into a government facility to kidnap legend takashi shirogane, the conspiracy theorist with the odd sounds in the desert, finding the blue lion, ending up in space fighting a war, red paladin of voltron. it was all keith. yet he wasn’t here. lance loved him, but he also hated him. he wasn’t sure how many more times he’d end up feeling that same sentiment.

the team…drifted. hunk and pidge paired off while allura and shiro paired off leaving lance and coran. coran was a nice, funny, odd man that reminded lance of his father back home. coran’s crazy, kooky exterior melted away when it was just them two and lance felt the same happen with him. coran talked of altea before it all, his husband and their son. lance talked of home too, every detail he could remember from earth and his family. lance busied himself with training or helping coran around the castle. he tried with the rest of the team, but things were pretty tense and his loud, jovial nature wasn’t exactly welcome all things considered. he tried to be shiro’s second as he had been keith’s. he offered his input and his plans but they were tossed aside without a moments thought. he was belittled for sticking his nose where it didn’t belong when he tried to speak up at their meetings. he was not shiro’s second, he was keith’s piss poor replacement as he had been at the garrison. he quieted and kept to himself. he stuck to the walls with crossed arms or locked himself on the training deck for hours at a time. shiro was off, a but different but lance couldn’t put his finger on it. the way he looked at them all sometimes was eerie. his eyes were empty and void and unsettling. after being shouted at on the bridge during a meeting,

he really couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself. he thought getting it out in the open would ease the worry off his shoulders and, if it didn’t, then whoever he spoke to could laugh off his worries to properly ease his mind, help him see sense. lance told coran. coran did not laugh. he did not brush off lance’s worries. he all but confirmed them. he said how he had found shiro’s behavior odd and the shouting really sent the point home. shiro before had never yelled, not like that (bar slav but that was understandable). the rest of the team also sought lance out to share their same opinions. lance took it all in stride despite the heavy dread settling over his shoulders. in agreement, the team trailed down to the bay and sat in front of the black lion. instead of the slow, patient meditation where they would ascend into the astral plane, it felt more like they were snatched and hauled up into it. they found shiro there, the real shiro, the dead shiro. they weren’t sure who was on the ship, but it wasn’t their leader. they all remained in the astral plane as they talked over a plan.

lotor considered their line of questioning and shared the witch’s experiments while he was there and gathered that if shiro was anything, he was most likely a clone. there were other options such as shapeshifter or droid disguised as shiro but both were easily disproven as if shiro were a shapeshifter, there would’ve been moments when he tripped up and either didn’t remember something or acted too different from the shiro they knew. if shiro were a droid disguised as shiro, well…their capabilities of such a thing were lacking. the droids the galran empire had were only good for fighting and even then they were pretty lackluster. the witch had an odd fascination with life and death so the chances of shiro being one of her experiments at recreating life were incredibly high.

lance didn’t trust lotor either but he knew they needed all the aid they could get so he bit his tongue and allowed lotor to remain in close cohorts with all of them. they staged a coup and overpowered the shiro on the ship. unable to kill him, they froze him in a pod and kept him locked in the floor of the infirmary. with the loss of her spy, haggar launched an attack on voltron. tens of hundreds of galran ships warped to their position but their appearance was quickly followed by hundreds of thousands of rebel ships and military ships from those in the coalition. the blade managed to send a few ships, though at lance’s poking and prodding, kolivan relayed that keith wouldn’t be there as he hd been out of a mission for the past couple of weeks and hadn’t returned yet. heavier dread settled over lance but he had no choice then to ignore it and fight with the rest of his team against the galran attack.

with a great sense of deja vu, lance found himself locked out of the red lion. he groaned and complained to him as they didn’t have time for this but red didn’t budge. lance spoke to coran through his comms that red wouldn’t let him in and the older man appeared in the bay at frightening speed. they talked it over and red allowed coran to enter and pilot him. as coran stepped into red’s maw, black let out an ear-shattering roar. the deja vu was never ending as lance found himself rushing toward black and taking a seat at the helm. the castle ship was put on autopilot, it kept its shield up as it fired at passing galran ships whilst the rest of the team flew around in their lions taking on ship after ship. as rebel and coalition ships began to fall, the team formed voltron and took out the ships with ease.

it was odd, finally being in charge. finally being recognized. being turned to for guidance with unwavering trust. it was something he had always dreamed of, something he envied keith for, something he truly didn’t want when he finally got it. how could they look to him? how could black choose him? he was just a boy from cuba, one out of a family of seven, twelve counting his sister in law, niece and nephew, and grandma and grandpa. he was a cargo pilot who had no business being in the fighter pilot class. he became a paladin by sheer luck, luck attributed to keith kogane. even now, as black paladin, he only received that position because shiro was out of commission and keith was on a mission for the blade. the moment keith returned, the lion would return to keith and lance would go back to being his second, ignored at best, yelled at at worst. as of now, he was keith’s stand in. he just had to make it until keith returned. problems arose practically ever minute and lance tried to imagine keith and how he would respond before making a decision. he’d stand still as he took in the information, pointer finger and thumb brushing together as he thought it over, and finally respond.

he checked practically every minute of every day for a response from keith or a change in status from kolivan, but neither ever came. keith was still on a mission. he had been for weeks. lance stood on shaky legs as he led the team. he hesitated and was indecisive. he froze up when they turned to him to make a decision. he was not a leader. he wasn’t who they were looking for. they needed keith. he needed keith. lance would spend his time in the bridge, a line ringing endlessly in hopes of keith finally picking up, as he looked over the battle plans and made tweaks and adjustments as he saw fit. allura joined him once and merely watched as he worked. she chuckled to herself suddenly and mentioned how with the clone as their leader, she had forgotten what it was like with keith as their leader. she had forgotten that lance was once their strategist, that he had been part of the duo that made all the decisions for the team.

coran also joined him after allura left. he let lance ramble aloud about the plans until he ran into an issue he couldn’t resolve quite yet. he stood still as he rubbed his thumb and pointer finger together. coran smiled and exhaled sharply. he said softly how he had not seen lance “like this” in quite some time. at lance’s questioning look, coran explained how lance had been so confident and sure of himself when he led with keith. under the clone’s leadership, lance had been shaken and wasn’t sure of himself anymore. the lance of the past few months was quiet and hesitant, unsure and unsteady, whilst the lance who led with keith was confident and self-assured. he made these decisions for the team and didn’t second guess himself once. yes, he thought over his plans from every angle to ensure the team was as safe as could be, but he never doubted himself. coran supposed it was keith’s unwavering faith, loyalty, and trust in lance. keith followed lance’s decisions just as much as the team followed keith’s.

lance watched coran leave after ruffling his hair and slowly turned back to the messy draft of a battle plan. lance’s gaze shifted over to his stilled hand where he had been rubbing his thumb and pointer together since running into the issue. he had been doing the same motion since becoming black paladin. it was oddly familiar. he swore he had seen…keith do it. it was keith’s unique tick that he did when stressed or emotional and trying to compose himself. lance had stolen it. allura and coran’s words echoed in his mind as he thought back to the short period of time with keith as black paladin. lance had felt like he finally found his footing there. he felt seen and heard and appreciated as he and keith led the team together. keith’s trust in his decisions, lance’s ability to match each of keith’s weaknesses to balance the team. here lance was now, leading the team all on his own, and he felt his own weaknesses exposed to the elements at the loss of his samurai.

well, the whole time he had been thinking what would keith do. he had been leading like he still had keith. perhaps that was the problem. he was leading like half of a whole rather than black paladin. lance looked up at the trilling line on the screen of the bridge. keith was on a mission. he was not on the ship. it was lance and his team. lance reached up and ended the ringing line. he had to lead like it. lance watched lotor closely for days but still couldn’t find any issue with him. weeks passed and things sailed smoother than before. lance still froze up in meetings and hesitated before making big decisions, but he stopped looking to his side for keith’s input. just as they fell into the new normal, keith returned. he flew into the castleship with a teleporting black and blue wolf, a tall galran woman that looked suspiciously like him, and (most peculiar) an altean. as well as a growth spurt that came with bulging muscles. not that that was important. what was important was that keith finally gave lance the reason why lotor was so hard to trust.

in the hours waiting for lotor and allura to return, lance lead keith to the infirmary to see the still clone body and retold everything that had happened while he was gone. keith’s face cycled through a few emotions but he quickly forced them back behind a mask of indifference and he nodded. the two of the returned to the bridge to wait for lotor to return to confront him. allura was heartbroken and enraged at the news and had taken to fighting lotor herself. outnumbered and surrounded, lotor surrendered and allowed himself to be taken to the dungeons of the castle. it was unnerving that the castle had dungeons and lance never knew despite his wanderings over the years, but he let it go. lotor was taken into the belly of the castle in chains while keith mourned his brother once more. maybe it was the news of her people that had survived only to be farmed for experiments that gave her the idea, but allura thought of a way to bring shiro, their shiro, back.

the clone’s body was taken down to the bay where allura pressed her hands to the black lion. she began to glow and she walked toward the limp body and placed her hands to it’s chest and head. the light around her body flowed down her arms and hands and into the body on the table. after a few seconds, the body took a breath and cracked open it’s eyes. lively eyes. loving, kind, and caring eyes. shiro’s eyes. shiro was put back in the infirmary as he got used to being alive again. coran stepped back from the red lion and turned the mantle back over to lance without complaint. lance did the same with the black lion to keith. instead of it feeling bitter, lance felt more at peace. being a nobody was horrible, unbearable, but being the somebody that everyone turned to for help and guidance was not very fun either. he was content to be second in command, right hand man, three points behind keith. only, keith took back the black lion but didn’t let lance fall back into the shadows. they fell back into the same dynamic they had before, two halves of one whole, two leaders that complimented each other, that met one another’s weakness with their strengths, that balanced each other, that made a damn good team.

[fallout4treasures]

Found this extremely short story in my docs and I thought I published it here but I couldn't find it so here we go! (I've edited it some too, so if you've read it before and it's different now that's why.)

--

“A fallback point.” He followed her in, disheartened to see her already exploring the small cement shack and digging her way through boxes.

“What are we falling back from?” Her smile was still light, despite the confusion in her eyes.

“We're not. I am.”

--

Okay, he panicked. He could admit that. When he overheard Quinlan and Arthur talking about his… identity, his brain went into survival mode. He didn't want to believe it at first, but still wasn't going to wait for them to present their evidence. The sickening realization was still weighing heavily on his chest. It actually made sense. His memories, his emotions, he ideals, they were all planted in him by a computer. Probably after he was pieced together in a lab somewhere deep underground. He was what the Brotherhood stood to fight against. He was the enemy.

Leaving was absolutely the right choice, and it was technically faster just to bring Sole along. She had caught Danse right as he was sneaking into a vertibird to get back onto ground level. And for some reason she insisted on coming with on his "unknown mission" rather than let him go alone. But this wasn’t fair to her. She had no idea how much danger he put her in by bringing her. But he couldn't bear to let her go, not yet. It was coming, he knew that, but maybe for now it could wait.

Wait for what? He was piecing this together as he went, but it all seemed to be leading to one answer. It would be his last act for the Brotherhood. To put down one more Institute monster, it just happened to be himself.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to tell her himself, the look of betrayal in her eyes would be too much to handle. He decided he would send her back to the Prydwen when they got to the abandoned post. They would have one last walk together, he owed her that much.

He tried to make conversation, evading Sole's pointed questions. Where were they going? Why couldn't they bring their power suits? Why was he acting so weird? But it would end up coming to an awkward and screeching halt, leaving them to march on in silence. His mind was moving so quickly he couldn't focus on anything they were saying anyway.

Sole didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve to have a synth for a friend, and she certainly didn't deserve to have everyone she cared about taken from her. But there she was, selfless, hopeful, caring. Just rolling with the punches. How did she do that?

“Are we almost there?” She finally asked, breaking another long period of silence shared between them.

“Actually, it’s right up here.” The path led up to the old outpost. She started trotting ahead, despite Danse's objections to wait.

“What is this place?” Sole called out through the open window.

“A fallback point.” He followed her in, disheartened to see her already exploring the small cement shack and digging her way through boxes.

“What are we falling back from?” Her smile was still light, despite the confusion in her eyes.

“We're not. I am.”

“What?” Sole laughed, she stopped flipping through a file to study his face. Her smile fell when he refused to meet her gaze. How could he? “But-”

“You're to report back to Elder Maxson. He’ll- he’ll want to speak to you.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you.”

“That’s an order, soldier.” Danse squared his jaw, meeting her gaze to see her eyes glistening with concern. His eyes fell in defeat, unworthy of looking at her. Sole. A flawless human being. Did he ever know her as a human? Was he replaced as far back as the Capital Wasteland? Was any of it ever real? Why would the Institute program him to care this much?

“What's going on?” Sole stepped closer, ignoring Danse's hesitation. When he didn't say anything she placed the most considerate hand on his forearm, snapping his attention solely towards her and away from his thoughts. Her soft skin, her worried eyes, her parted lips.

"You should go." He croaked out. His heart thumped into his throat. He wanted to pull away but he couldn't. Her touch was so warm, and alive. She wasn't programmed to feel this way. Her caring was pure, it was human. Everything he wasn't, apparently.

"Are you okay?" Her sympathetic voice rang in his ear.

“I’m sorry.” The words came out on their own, knowing what he was going to do before he did.

“For what?” In one sudden move Danse grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her mouth to his, their bodies flushed together as he pushed her back against the wall. He felt her body halt beneath him, but it only took a moment for her mind to catch up to his actions. He let out a groan when her mouth opened up to him, letting their tongues mingle.

He found a way to shut off his mind, and he was going to take advantage of it. She felt good. Better than he had even imagined, but never in his wildest dreams did he ever think she'd kiss him back in real life. This certainly didn't feel like real life however, real life had unimaginable horrors. This felt more like his dreams, and if he tried hard enough he could even convince himself it really was a dream.

He broke away, feverishly making his way down her neck. He sunk his teeth into the soft but toned muscle, groaning at the sensual cry that left her. He kissed his way back to her lips before lifting her up for her to wrap her legs around his waist. She gave a small yelp against his lips as he pressed against her.

"Danse, just wait a sec." She panted. He pulled his head back, and all at once the shame in the pit of his stomach was back. Their eyes met and he was confused to find her staring at him in shock. The soft pads of her fingers reached to touch his cheek, and to his shock they were wet when they pulled away. Had he been crying?

Her perfect, very human, hand cupped his face with her thumb wiping the salty liquid across his cheek. Her expression broke his heart, she wouldn't feel this way if she knew the truth.

He hadn't noticed that his legs were shaking until his knees started to buckle below him. It seemed to happen so quickly. He had set her down and was sitting on the ground, with her following suit but making sure her own hands never left him. He wanted so badly to pull her close and cry into her comforting neck. But he had exploited her feelings enough.

"What's wrong?" She asked. How could he do this to her? Why would he be programmed to be so selfish? How could he feel like he loved her when he was a machine?

"Talk to me, please." She begged, thickening the lump in his throat.

"I-I… I'm sorry. I… I have to tell you something."

[rhaenyratargcryen]

when i see you, the whole world reduces to just that room (eddie munson)

summary: after what feels like the longest year of your life, you’re ready to ring in 1987 in the wheelers’ basement with your closest friends, one of whom you’ve begun to think of as a little more than that - and you’re starting to suspect he might have, too.

author’s note: HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!! idk i’m supposed to be finishing like, eight other wips but i decided to spur of the moment write a really self indulgent new year’s eve blurb bc why not!!! i’m feeling festive!!! i hope u like <33 also i scouted TIRELESSLY for lyrics for a good title for this before i settled on this one from ‘don’t delete the kisses’ by wolf alice - i looked through like a dozen ‘new year’s kiss’-esque playlists to find a good song LMAOOO

pairing: eddie munson x f!reader word count: 2k <3 warnings: none just fluffy nonsense, mutual pining, maybe a lil angst bc of the events of season 4 

“I swear to all that is holy, if you two don’t make out tonight, I’m–”

“It’s not that simple, Buckley, okay?”

“It totally is that simple, Eddie! You’ve been crushing for ages, just kiss her already!”

“Everything alright in here?”

Eddie and Robin look up at where you’re leaning against the doorway, both of their faces pale, like you’ve caught them in the act of something reprehensible, but really they’re just standing in front of the kitchen sink talking in hushed voices. Which, in retrospect, isn’t any less suspicious. You cock an eyebrow. “I heard shouting.”

“Yeah, fine,” Robin says, smiling, then brushes past you on her way back to the basement. “Eddie and I were just discussing some very important business. I’ll be downstairs. Happy new year!”

“Happy new year,” you murmur, pressing a hand against her arm as she passes. You glance up at Eddie, frozen on the other side of the room, hesitating for a moment before stepping three paces closer. “You okay?”

Eddie hums, his back still turned to you. His Iron Maiden tee rides up on one side, exposing the tanned plane of his back as he reaches up to grab the champagne flutes Mrs. Wheeler keeps in the cupboard above the sink, where really nobody can reach them except the big kids, and now Mike, the beanpole. You press a thumb to your bottom lip contemplatively, take a small, shuddering breath.

“Are you sure? It sounded like you and Robin–”

“Yeah, sweetheart, all’s fine,” Eddie says, turning and gesturing towards himself with three glasses in his hand. “Can you help me grab the rest of these? Told Harrington I’d make sure they were ready for midnight.”

“Of course,” you murmur, taking the ones already in his hands into yours, your knuckles brushing only briefly against his, and watch him grab four more by the stem, wincing only slightly when they clink together. He turns to face you, meeting your eye momentarily and when you go to open your mouth again, he raises his eyebrows and angles his head in the direction of the basement. You sigh. “Yeah, sure, let’s get these downstairs.”

As you descend the stairs behind Eddie, you watch Robin, Steve, Vickie, and Nancy peel themselves apart, each of them giving you their own wary glances, heading off into different corners of the basement, busying themselves and avoiding your gaze. You stop abruptly when you reach the bottom of the stairs, try to cross your arms as far as they’ll go with the champagne flutes in your grasp.

“Seriously, you guys, what the hell is going on?”

“Nothing!” You shoot a glare at Robin, who crosses her heart with her fingers. “Nothing’s going on. Swear.”

“You’re all being so weird, and upstairs, in the kitchen, you and Eddie, like, practically jumped out of your skin when I walked in the room, and now this?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Robin insists, glancing sideways at Steve. “We, uh. We’ve all just been trying to convince Eddie to apply to work at that tiny new record store going in in the spring. He thinks it’s a long shot, but we all know he’s a shoe-in. He’s being too stubborn about it, honestly.”

Eddie scoffs, and you frown, but resume your descent, handing the champagne flutes to Steve, who sets them on a table set up in the furthest corner of the room. You glance at Eddie, suspiciously quiet, who’s ditched his own glasses and is now busying himself trying to figure out the TV.

“Fine, whatever.”

“We can have champagne tonight, too, right?” Max pipes up from the couch, and you narrow your eyes at her. She’s clearly in on whatever the others are up to, changing the subject like that. She holds her arms up defensively.

“No, Mayfield, everyone’s parents would kill me,” Steve scoffs, prompting some muttered insults from Max. “Hey, don’t roll your eyes at me. I’m serious.”

Protests pop up around the room, all of the kids suddenly offended at the prospect that they’re too young to have champagne with the rest of you, though they hadn’t been bothered until Max brought it up. 

“I mean, I think, like, half a glass wouldn’t hurt?”

Steve looks at Nancy, eyes wide, a bewildered look passing across his face. “Nance, I thought I’d at least have you on my side!”

Jonathan laughs and throws an arm around Nancy’s shoulder. He shrugs. “What’s the harm, Harrington? Nancy’s parents are out of town, we’re all just gonna crash here anyway. Live a little, dude.”

“Yeah, Harrington,” Max grins, and Steve shoots her a warning glance. 

“Fine, fine, whatever,” Steve says, glancing up at you. “Give me a hand again?”

Plastic cups of champagne are passed around, and you watch as everyone experiences it for the first time. El is sniffing the drink, not sure what to make of it, glancing up at Will, who seems not to mind the taste. Dustin, Lucas, and Mike are all watching Max for her reaction, and when she takes her first sip she immediately pulls a face, disgusted. 

“God, it’s so…dry?”

Steve snorts. “It’s champagne, Mayfield! Get used to it!” 

On the TV, everyone is preparing for the ball to drop. Jonathan grabs Nancy, Vickie grabs Robin, and you watch all of your friends hug and preemptively wish one another a happy new year. After the year you’ve all had, you can’t help but tear up a little at the sight of everyone you love safe and happy and together in the same room.

“Hey, uh,” Eddie whispers, standing at your shoulder with a full flute of champagne in his outstretched hand. You thank him and tap the glass against his own, watching him over its rim as you take your first sip. Eddie clears his throat, one hand clasped around the back of his neck. “You wouldn’t by any chance, I don’t know, want to be my new year’s kiss?”

You swallow the sparkling wine, trying to discern from the look on his face whether he’s being serious or not. His brown eyes are so bright, even in the dimly-lit basement.

When you realize he’s not joking, you take a step closer to him. “Yeah, yes, Eddie,” you breathe, one hand pressed against his chest through his tee shirt. Your hand holding your drink drops to your side, and Eddie clasps one hand around it. 

“Yeah?” He says, grinning, and you nod one more time for good measure. One hand against the side of your face, Eddie lets out a long breath, his cheeks flushing. “You’re sure?”

“Munson,” you whisper into the space between your open mouths, and as the countdown starts, everyone in the room chants along. Five, four, three– “Kiss me.”

Eddie hardly hesitates, and when the clock strikes midnight, he presses his lips to yours before you’ve even had the chance to close your eyes. His mouth is soft, his body so warm. His nose bumps against yours when you shift your head to deepen the kiss, which he welcomes for a moment before pulling away.

You all cheer, ringing in the new year, and now your frostbitten cheeks mirror his own, laughing as you catch Steve’s eye.

“It’s about time,” Steve says, rolling his eyes, but it’s playful, and you glance up at Eddie, watching as a smile makes its way onto his face, and you start to smile, too. You shove Steve’s shoulder then tuck your face into Eddie’s neck, who wraps one protective arm around you.

“Be careful aiming that attitude at my girl, Harrington,” Eddie teases, palming the back of your neck, pulling your face back to look him in the eye. His gaze is drawn down toward your lips, still wet from his, and kiss-reddened, for only a moment before it meets yours once more. The affection you’re faced with almost knocks your knees out from under you.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you respond, leaning forward enough to push your nose against his. Eddie grins.

“He’s right, you know,” Eddie whispers, and you nod. He is right. “Been wantin’ to do that for so long, you’ve got no clue. Just never plucked up the courage.”

“Is this what all of you were up to tonight? Which one of these hooligans finally convinced you to do it?”

“Um, all of us hooligans, actually,” Steve murmurs, chugging the rest of the champagne in his flute and pulling a face. Robin gives you a guilty look and mouths Sorry! when you aim a halfhearted glare at her. “He was like a lovesick puppy. It was gross, the way he’d moon over you, making eyes at you whenever you turned your back.”

Eddie makes a noise in the back of his throat, shaking his head. “I was not mooning, Harrington.”

“Oh, you were mooning, man. Thank God that’s over.”

“Hey,” you murmur, grinning up at Eddie. “If I tell you I was mooning, too, but I was just better at hiding it, would that make you feel any better?”

“You know what,” Eddie sighs, planting a kiss on your cheek. “That does make me feel a lot better, sweetheart. Thank you.”

“No problem, baby.”

Eddie laughs at the pet name and pushes both hands up under the back of your shirt, pulling you tight against him, one of his thumbs underneath the band of your bra.

“Seriously, should we give you guys the room, or?”

“Shut it, Henderson,” Eddie grumbles, leaning down and pressing his lips back to yours once, twice, three more times. 

You grin against Eddie’s mouth and finally pull back for good, and when he whines, you give him a searing look. “We can continue this when there aren’t minors present, Munson.”

“Sounds like a plan to me, sweetheart.”

You begin to make your way around the room, hugging each of your friends close. Wishing everyone a happy new year. Knowing the cost everyone paid to be here today. Thankful to still be alive to hold the people you love. Glancing over at Eddie every once in a while, and finding that he’s already watching you, a sweet, shy smile on his face. 

And if you fall asleep that night on the couch spooning Eddie, waking up in the small hours of the morning to turn him in your arms and kiss him silly, no one else has to know. You pull away from him, lips aching from the memory of his against yours, and click your tongue.

“You really spent all year pining after me?”

“Well, not...all year long.” You give him a knowing look, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear, and he laughs softly. “Okay, yeah, most of the year. I swear it wasn’t as bad as Harrington made it seem, but you just - you made it really hard not to fall in love with you, sweetheart, what with saving my life, you know,” he whispers, biting his lip, and sucks in one more sharp breath before finishing with, “and all.”

Fondness softens your gaze. 

“You should’ve said something, Eddie,” you murmur, bringing your hand back up to run your knuckles across the side of his face. He preens at your featherlight touch, pursing his lips, his gaze slipping down to your mouth. “You should’ve said something sooner. I would’ve let you kiss me, like, six months ago, if I knew.”

“Yeah,” he says, laughing. “We got a lot of time to make up for.” 

The two of you fall into silence, and Eddie smiles at you, a slow, soft, lover’s smile, meant only for you in the dark of the Wheelers’ den, the unspoken thought that thank God you even can make it up hanging between you. It’s not lost on you that it’s a miracle you’re even holding him it all.

The others are scattered, asleep, elsewhere in the house. All of these people you love, these kids who’ve had to grow up so fast, who’ve all faced the prospect of a terrifying end head-on and found respite in one another after the fact. The strongest, bravest group of humans you’ve ever met. 

You hum, lost in thought, and shift so your face is pressed between Eddie’s neck and his pillow, your mouth against the skin right behind his ear.

“We have all the time in the world, Eddie.”

[yipeewahoo]

CAUTION ⚠️ HOT COFFEE !!

> REBLOG !!!!!! REBLOGS > LIKES

> CLIKC FOR BETTEER QUALITY

[sickiebabytae]

If your requests are still open and if you have time, can I request a scenerio where a member eats something way too late at night (like ramen or something) and wakes up in the morning really nauseous? My brain is screaming either Jungkook or Namjoon but I’ll leave the sickie up to you! ❤️ thanks in advance!! I love your writing

thank you so much for the request, anon!! I'm so so sorry it's taken me literally forever to get to this, and that I kind of derailed a bit when it came to the original plot 😭😭 I hope this is still to your liking!

sickie: jungkook

caretaker: namjoon

word count: 2125

jungkook knows this will be a bad idea the moment he sets out the (six) ramen cups neatly on the table, but rational thinking isn't really in his ballpark right now. he's been feeling stressed out from their tour lately, and feels as if he hasn't been performing as well as he should be, so he thinks he needs a good stress-eating session to get his mind off of things. 

but as jungkook takes a step back and looks at the ramen cups laid out, he can't help but laugh to himself. "this is so stupid." he murmurs, pulling out his phone. this is something he thinks army might enjoy. plus, he's been trying to be more active on Twitter recently. he captions the photo with something funny and his hashtag before setting his phone down and beginning.

just as he finishes getting through the first cup and a half, lips already zinging with spice, he feels his phone vibrate against the table. he picks it up and sees it's a message from namjoon.

rapmon hyung: jungkook what the hell are you doing

rapmon hyung: I saw your post -_-

jungkook feels a sheepish smile spread across his face.

jungkook: … I'm eating my emotions

jungkook: :D

rapmon hyung: good god jungkook

rapmon hyung: this screams bad idea, you know

rapmon hyung: your stomach is going to hate you tomorrow :/

jungkook: ill be fine hyung dw

jungkook: we've got a off day tomorrow anyways, it'll be fine

rapmon hyung: you know jimin wants to go sightseeing tomorrow

jungkook: yeah, I know, I'll be okay for it :)

jungkook: please don't worry hyung, it cant turn out THAT bad

jungkook can practically hear namjoon sighing from his hotel room a few doors down

rapmon hyung: okay fine

rapmon hyung: I trust you

rapmon hyung: but don't say i didn't warn you

jungkook: ay ay captain

with that, jungkook returns to his food.

this was definitely a bad idea, jungkook thinks to himself when he's all done. well, mostly done. by the last two he couldn't bring himself to finish off the soup at the bottom. his stomach is already bloated and full beyond belief.

he decides to make light of the situation and posts an update to twitter with one photo of the (nearly) empty ramen cups and one selfie of him looking, very rightly, in pain. his lips feel swollen and his nose won't stop running and itching from the spice, eyes watery too. he throws all the cups away and shuffles into the bathroom, washing his face down and stifling a burp into his hand. he shudders and sighs. "you idiot, jungkook," the singer whispers to himself, voice thick. he pushes himself back out to his room and gets into bed. maybe lying down will help him digest, he thinks, all lessons he's ever learned in his entire life failing to come to him as his eyes start drooping closed. he feels like he's going to be sick already and he doesn't like it. maybe he'll just… rest his eyes for a moment. let the world fall silent around him. yeah, yeah that's what he'll do. 

against his will, jungkook begins to fall asleep, and he drifts off before he's even able to stop himself.

jungkook wakes up in the middle of the night, sweaty and stomach cramping. he winces and sits up instantly. "oh god- fuck-" he swings his legs over the side of the bed, but that alone forces stomach acid up that burns his throat as he burps. he places a hand over his mouth and cringes, swallowing. "shit-" he freezes in place with no idea what to do. how did this happen? he feels so much worse than when he did when he-

he fell asleep. a groan leaves his lips. he just had to have fallen asleep. his stomach is killing him, bubbling and churning. he thinks he's going to throw up. 

moving slowly, he shuffles to the table and grabs his phone. more stomach acid burns up his throat, swallowing again. he goes to text namjoon since he seemed to be the only one who was caught up with his shenanigans the night before and sees that he missed a message right before he fell asleep.

rapmon hyung: jungkook you look terrible-

rapmon hyung: did you really eat all of that??

jungkook sighs before reluctantly sending a text of his own, deciding to ignore namjoon's. he only hopes that namjoon is either still awake or won't wake up from the message notification. he just wants someone to know what's happening

jungkook: I feel sick

jungkook: really sick

jungkook: I'm really sorry :( 

jungkook shuffles back to bed and sits down, not wanting to lay back in case it makes whatever acid reflux is going on worse. he jolts with a hiccup and grimaces, untucking his shirt from the jeans he'd forgotten to change out of that keep digging into his stomach. he slips his hand in between the hemline and his abdomen to give it some leeway, sighing when it provides the slightest bit of relief. he knows he should get up and change, but he doesn't want to risk it. he feels like the tiniest movement will set his stomach off.

his phone vibrates in his other hand to jungkook's surprise and he lifts it to look at the screen to see namjoon having responded to his message.

rapmon hyung: god kid I told u

rapmon hyung: hold on

rapmon hyung: I'm coming over

jungkook's eyes widen, mortified already. namjoon cant come, he knows he looks a mess.

jungkook: no no no-

jungkook: hyung it's fine really

jungkook: I just felt like someone should know

jungkook: hyung-

as jungkook types out his next text, he hears knocking at the door followed by a hushed, "jungkook? are you in there?"

jungkook suppresses a groan and slowly pushes himself to stand, stifling a low whimper when his stomach churns in protest. he makes his way to the door, unable to straighten properly from just how full and in pain he is, and opens it with cheeks flushed with both shame and the beginnings of what might be a fever. jungkook doesn't know at this point. "hey, hyung." he murmurs. he can't bring himself to meet namjoon's eyes.

he hears the leader sigh and make his way in, warm hands coming to rest by jungkook's sides. "you idiot, come on. let's go back to bed. I'll grab you some clothes."

jungkook manages a few short nods, trudging his way back to bed and laying down in a curled up position, fighting back a grimace and laying his hand back over his stomach. he can vaguely make out namjoon shuffling around the room, grumbling under his breath. probably something to do with jungkook's clothing organization. or lack thereof; jungkook has always had a bit of an unorthodox way of storing his clothes while on tour. it's just how his brain works, okay?

still keeping his gaze averted, jungkook feels the bed dip next to him. he allows himself the smallest of glances and notices the clothes on namjoon's lap. jungkook can't help but smile; those are some of his favorite pyjamas to wear on hard days. he didn't know that namjoon had picked up on it.

"arms up." namjoon orders gently. jungkook reluctantly complies. he can't help but blush when namjoon pulls his soiled, sweaty shirt off, feeling embarrassed that namjoon has to deal with this. to top it off, jungkook shivers when the air conditioning hitting him, realizing belatedly that his bloated stomach is now on display and painfully obvious. jungkook finds himself wrapping his arms around it as quickly as possible and curling in on himself. 

namjoon sighs. "jungkook-ah, look at me please." 

jungkook shakes his head stubbornly. but before he knows it, namjoon's hand comes up to his cheek and tilts his head up, their eyes meeting. jungkook finally clocks just how welled up with tears his are, and he can see it when namjoon clocks it, too. "jungkook, are you crying??"

at that, jungkook feels his bottom lip quiver. a sob bubbles up out of him, unexpectedly. "fuck, I'm sorry-" he tries to look away again, but namjoon doesn't let up. 

"hey hey, no, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it sound like such a big deal I just-" namjoon sighs again. "you're feeling really sick, huh?"

jungkook manages a pathetic nod. another sob. 

namjoon gives a nod back. "okay, that's okay." he says; it sounds like he's talking more to himself than jungkook, but the maknae is too caught up in his self pity to notice it all that much. "we can get through this, not the first time one of us has gotten knocked down."

"but… the sightseeing… the others-"

"will understand if you can't make it tomorrow." namjoon promises with a gentle smile. "now let's finish getting you changed so you don't get more sick from the cold hitting you." 

it's been an hour and jungkook has yet to fall asleep. namjoon lays next to him, having already drifted off a while ago, snoring away without a care in the world. jungkook is extremely jealous. his stomach is still gurgling and churning and it doesn't seem to want to provide him with any relief any time soon.

slowly, carefully, jungkook pushes himself up into a sitting position, afraid that he might choke on the productive burps that keep crawling up his throat. he worries at his fingers. his breathing feels short and heavy and jungkook swears under his breath. he hates this. he hates being sick. arguably more than anything in the world. he hates feeling so gross and out of control and-

great, he's crying again. jungkook shoves his head into his hands and tries not to make too much sound. this is all his fault, and he knows it, and that makes the whole situation so much worse somehow; this disaster is a product of his own making.

jungkook's head continues to swim and swirl with thoughts, and before he knows it, something heavy rushes up his throat. his mouth waters dangerously, a sour feeling coating the back of his tongue and weighing it down. he's definitely going to throw up. he feels it coming on, and fast.

throwing the sheets off himself as quickly as he can, jungkook hurries to the bathroom and shuts the door behind him, hand clamped over his mouth. he crouches in front of the toilet with a few heavy pants, white-knuckling the sides of the bowl. the first wave of vomit comes out of him with a guttural gag before jungkook can even fully process that it's happened. and then another wave comes out. and then another. and then he's rolling; more specifically, his stomach is rolling. agonizingly so. 

jungkook tries his hardest to be quiet. he really, really does. but it's difficult to do so when each round of puke rips his breath from his chest and burns the way up his throat, eliciting involuntarily whimpers and groans and pants.

he feels a warm hand on his back before he registers the fact that someone has joined him in the bathroom; namjoon. jungkook can't help but give a choked sob. "i-i'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you, I-"

"shh," namjoon hushes. "it's okay. just get everything up, it'll help you feel better."

namjoon's calm, deep voice helps some of the tension leave jungkook's muscles, but they quickly seize up again when he has to throw up once more.

after another five minutes or so go by, the last few filled with nothing but weak, unproductive gags and pants as jungkook tries to regain his breath, namjoon decides to make the executive decision that jungkook is done. the leader reaches over to flush the toilet and helps jungkook to his feet. "come on, let's wash out your mouth and go to bed."

jungkook gives a weak moan but lets himself be dragged to the sink, pliable. now that his stomach is left with nothing more than a dull ache, and waves of relief continually washing over him from the nausea finally being gone, jungkook is tired. so, so tired. he barely feels it as namjoon guides him through washing out his mouth and leading him back to bed, helping jungkook sit on the edge as namjoon shuffles off to grab a new shirt, jungkook having soiled the one he'd changed into from sweat. 

the boy is practically already out cold by the time he's been changed and tucked in. the last thing he registers is a gentle touch brushing back his hair and the familiar voice of his leader whispering for him to "sleep well, jungkookie."

[crazycafinecat]

What was Space Morty's dynamic like with the other Smiths? Has he made an friends since going into space? :0

omg i totally forgot to answer these sorry....

i planned a bunch of comics to explain space morty's backstory but I've been really busy so it's probably gonna take a while to draw all of them, so I'll just explain it roughly now and then go into more detail in the comics eventually.

ok so this universe is actually very similar to the main one in the show in terms of family dynamics and stuff. the big difference here is that morty comes out as transfem (she/her pronouns btw) and things kinda derail from there?? like summer is super supportive and their relationship actually improves, rick is supportive (because he's also trans in this universe but he's stealth so no one knows) but he doesn't show it very directly, beth is trying her best and jerry is confused and refuses to understand.

so that's what makes morty run away, she's alway felt like her family never really appreciates her or like she's the unwanted child (even tho that's technically summer lol) so seeing her dad not even trying to understand something that's important to her, and her grampa's usual apathetic behavior on the matter (which she interprets as unsupportive) make her snap and she impulsively runs away.

she's kinda emotionally unstable since she ran away so she hasn't made any friends, and avoids other ricks and mortys from other dimensions because she tends to not get along with them and she's been to the citadel before it got destroyed and stole a random rick's portal gun lol.

she did meet morty prime tho, he got lost in space and she helped him find his grampa or something like that, and they kinda become friends after that even tho she refuses to admit it. i was also thinking about a possible interaction with evil morty but they're so similar i dont think they'd like eachother.

sorry this is so long ahshdh i think it's all but I'll add more if i realize i forgot something. thanks for reading my incoherent rambles🫶

[miraiq]

a certain dragon delivers intense stares though curious of what was troubling the trailblazer. perhaps the vacation in penacony wasn't precisely what he expected, judging by the look of his face. "did something happen? you look troubled." (dan heng @ caelus)

Caelus was ecstatic upon Dan Heng messaging him saying that the raven haired lad was making his way to meet the Express crew down on Penacony. He had missed Dan Heng, but was also worried. Caelus wasn't sure why he was worried, this was the Dan Heng we're talking about. The man is the body guard of the Astral Express. The dude's a powerhouse! But, who could blame the silver haired man for the unnecessary concern. Everything was going wrong the second they warp jumped. First Caelus had that weird dream on the train that he couldn't even remember- though could recognize that it wasn't a good one based on the fact that he had been startled awake, covered in his own tears. Pom-Pom had simply said it was the lad not handling the memoria in the planet's atmosphere well, but something told Caelus that was only part of the problem.

Then they had troubles with their reservations, which made no sense to him since they (well technically not him but semantics) were invited, and had the same amount of bodies as their r.s.v.p..? Whatever. A guy from the IPC helped settle that, then proceeded to single him out and spew out cryptic nonsense-- aside from the fact that the blond had somehow had known Caelus housed a stellaron. Which that was also concerning-- how? What would that man do because of, or with, that information?

Next, the trailblazer had run into someone looking like Sampo, who then attacked(?) him. Well.. going unconscious and waking up without the accused party kinda makes it seem that way. So another betrayal at someone the man knew and (mostly) trusted.

And to top it all off, as if the universe really wanted to play some nasty tricks on him yet again.. Caelus made a friend. Another kind soul, struggling to make it by but finding the joy in the little things. It was worse than when... when Tingyun.. when she.. Caelus had to once again see a friend die right in front of him.

He got to know Firefly a bit more than he had with the Foxian, which made it all the more devastating when the man watched the girl get impaled by that dream creature. He vaguely remembers Black Swan or Acheron telling him the monster's name or title.. but he doesn't remember anything outside of the sheer size of it, the screeching sounds it made, the smoke stifling the surrounding air.. Caelus watched her body shake with fear before she apologized to him (why? why would you do that?) before she fell down into his arms just long enough that he felt her body turn into that odd liquid and vanish.

And the photo.. oh, the photo. Just an extra punch to the gut.

Wasn't he just "born" several months ago? He can't take much more of this.

So, it isn't really a surprise that the archivist could tell something was wrong. Though, Caelus knows that he doesn't hide his own emotions very well. Probably didn't help that shaking hands had reached out to lightly grasp Dan Heng's arm the second the silver was close enough to touch his party member, just firm enough to settle himself, but relaxed enough that if the raven had wanted to remove his arm from Caelus' touch he could easily do so. Caelus just couldn't stop himself. He desperately needed to feel a physical body, one that was warm, solid.. not ice cold mist that could slip through his fingers again.

" Can't get anything passed you, can I ? "

His voice is so soft, so raspy, the silver hopes that Dan Heng could at least hear his attempt at words to set the other at ease. After a chuckle to himself, a tiny alarm went off in his mind. Something about how Dan Heng showed up after texting each other related itself to Black Swan and their conversation.. and the chat with the real Black Swan right after. Could this be 'Dan Heng', the same one that meet him earlier as 'Sampo', tried to trick him into giving out dangerous-in-the-wrong-hands-knowledge 'Black Swan'?

He learned his lesson the first time. He's not going to make that mistake again.

" H..Hey. I know this is a bit.. strange. But-

Can you tell me your secret phrase you have with March?

You know, the one you used to help us out on Belobog to get away from the Silvermane Guards the second day we got there? "

[thesunisatangerine]

against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part ten

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: none (im pretty sure)

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 5.8k

The melodic chirping of birds in time with the gentle beat of Alexia’s heart roused you, your back delightfully warm, and for what seemed to be a long time you felt well-rested–felt as if the leaded weight that made its home in your bones finally melted away because, truly, you’d forgotten the lightness of being one felt upon waking from a night’s sleep or, even more so, the lightness one felt when waking in the sheltering arms of a lover. So you sighed, content and at peace, as you breathed Alexia in when you nestled further into the safety of her neck where faint wintergreen and her delicate, earthly scent lived, familiar and evermore comforting. 

When you finally drew your eyes open, the world came to focus and revealed, in its center, Alexia already awake, her head propped on her arm with her honey eyes, just like molten gold in the resplendent glow of the morning sun, lidded as she gazed at you with a lazy smile, soft and relaxed but it ignited you with a gentle flame all the same, whose radiance only intensified upon meeting your eyes. 

“Good morning.” Alexia greeted you and it struck you just how much you missed the sound of her voice in the morning, low and soft with just the right amount of rasp that never failed to incite the desire to kiss her right then.

“Good morning.” You replied in the same tone, cheeks warming to a gentle simmer in the face of your lover’s tender demeanour. She brushed the back of her fingers on your cheek while a silence filled the space between your eyes, intimate, as you soaked each other in. But when you could no longer sustain the weight from her gaze–when you chest had filled twice over that it felt in danger of bursting from the sheer joy of being looked upon by such earnest affection–you whispered, “you’re staring.”

Alexia tucked your hair behind your ear before she countered in a voice so tender your heart ached.

“And you’re beautiful.”

No words could translate the gravity of what you felt in that moment, so you spoke the only language that could ever come close to conveying it: you cupped her jaw and caught her lips between yours, seared the missed ‘good morning’s’ and the lost ‘hello, how are you’s’ into the kiss, the pace languid but sweet, savouring the way her lips parted in this silent conversation–relishing the way Alexia tasted like summer on your tongue.

Alexia tugged you closer, and closer still but still not close enough, with a gentle pressure from her hand against the small of your back, the other now over the nape of your neck.

But the conversation was cut short, too short, when a small gasp reached your ear, electrifying you in an unpleasant way your eyes flung wide open, darting immediately to the direction of the sound to find Elisa standing at the last step of the stairs, her hair ruffled from sleep, her loose shirt creased and draped slightly to the side, mouth wide open in disbelief as she gawked at the sight of the two of you.

And what a sight the two of you must have been. 

In your haste to extricate yourself from Alexia, you ended up flopping down against the tiled floor, the carpet doing little to cushion your fall, but you recovered quickly and now you stood there not quite knowing what to do with your arms or what to even say. Alexia, on the other hand, remained half on her back and half sitting up, her weight against an elbow, the other arm frozen outstretched towards you, a clear attempt to save you from when you fell down. If the situation had been different, you probably would’ve laughed especially at Alexia’s expression: her face contorted in part mortification and part worry, brows upturned, eyes agape, and lips partially opened–if only you weren’t too flustered yourself to do so. 

Alexia got her bearing faster than you, though–damn her and her athletic condition–because she, too, now stood from the couch (and did so with a lot more grace than you did). She cleared her throat, fumbled with her hands as it looked like she tried to stick her hands in her jacket pockets before it dawned on her that it remained still on the coffee table, so she resorted in putting them in her jean pockets instead. 

“Good morning, Elisa. How are you?” Alexia said in English and her voice wavered at the end, the question infused with a guilty inflection. 

With bated breath, you waited for your daughter’s reaction as trepidation filled you, which only worsened when Elisa’s eyes darted at you, then to Alexia, then back to you again. Numerous scenarios fleeted through your mind and out of all the images your mind conjured, what happened next was not one them: you didn’t expect the way with which Elisa’s surprise morphed into smug delight, her once opened mouth now curved into a coy smile, not dissimilar to a cat’s, that only served to accentuate the mischievous gleam in her eyes.

“Are you guys dating?” Each word deliberately drawled out as Elisa posed them, punctuated by a teasing cadence that set your ears and cheeks aflame. The question, thankfully, brought you back to yourself because only you could save you and Alexia from this situation. 

“Okay, I think I need to have a conversation with you so up you go, young lady, back to your room for now.” You said as you approached Elisa who you guided towards the stairs with a gentle hand on her back but not before you placed a good morning kiss on the crown of her head. Elisa whined, but she heeded your words nonetheless, although she did sneak a wave and a cheeky thumbs up to Alexia on the way up, leaving you with an amused smile on your lips at her antics as you thought fondly, shaking your head, ‘Oh my god, this child.’ 

When Elisa was finally out of sight and you heard her bedroom door shut, you let out the breath you were holding. That really could have been a disaster, and when you looked over your shoulder, you found the same thought written in Alexia’s face. You dragged your feet back to where Alexia stood who, as soon as you got close enough, was quick to pull you back into her gentle arms. With your cheek pressed against her collarbone, her arms loose around your waist, and her chin resting on your head, you were grounded back to the moment, your muscles relaxing as apprehension began to leave you. 

“That was mortifying.”

Alexia let out an airy laugh, the remnant of her nervousness still apparent. “I know. At least we didn’t do it last night.”

“Alexia,” you groaned as your cheeks burnt anew, “please, don’t–I don’t even want to imagine that right now.”

Melodic laughter filled your ears again before it tapered off which, once again, left you two blanketed in the subtle refrain of the waking world and the warmth of the sunlight that streamed through the window. You didn’t know which of you moved first but in the next moment, you found the both of you swaying to a gentle rhythm as you held each other. 

“So, what now?” Alexia asked, breaking the silence.

“I… I don’t know.” You answered truthfully. Sure, the both of you agreed to take everything slow, but where to even start? When intimacy and familiarity were already there, strong and incessant in their pull, how could torn lovers begin to mend the fragments–to keep everything tentative and slow? Where should the lines be drawn, the boundaries set, when a profound desire that transcended physical affection already made its home in your heart, a yearning that constantly craved for not only Alexia’s company but also her thoughts? Because with Alexia, you wanted–and would always–want more.

“I think, for now, I need to talk to Elisa about this–about us.” Sighing, you continued, “what do I even tell her?”

“Well, she seems to approve.” At that, the both of you chuckled, then Alexia spoke again, serious but her tone remained light when she did. “Tell her whatever you’re comfortable with. Slow, remember? No labels for now, it’s just you and me.”

She placed a kiss against your ear and you hummed, nuzzling her neck in gratitude.

Another pause. 

“I think I should go.” 

Hard as you tried, you couldn’t hide your disappointment at what Alexia just said even though it was probably the best thing to do right now. There were much you needed to talk to Elisa about alone: her nightmares and her therapy, and now this. The only thing that eased your heart was the fact that Alexia seemed as reluctant to go, too, with the way her hold on you tightened and you responded to her touch by falling further into her, clutching the fabric of her shirt in an attempt to let her know you’d rather she stayed.

“I know. Me, too,” Alexia sighed seeming to understand what you were feeling as she kissed your temple. “How about this? If you and Elisa are feeling up for it, I could take you some place tomorrow? I did tell you before that I’d show you around.”

At the reminder, the memory fleeted through your mind and a sense of melancholy filled you but you swallowed it down before it could take root. Then you hummed in agreement, “I’ll ask Elisa about it. What’s on for you today?”

“Apart from waiting until tomorrow comes?” Alexia joked which made you giggle. “I’ll probably visit La Masia, check with Josep for next week’s schedule, then head home or visit Mamá and the family.”  

“That sounds fun.” You said as you began to kiss her, knowing that your time together for the day would end any second now. As you punctuated each word with a kiss, you continued, “alright, I should let you go now, then.”

The rumble from Alexia’s chuckle radiated beneath your palm on her chest as she whined, “you’re making it really difficult to leave.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop now,” you giggled and just as you began to pull away, Alexia cradled the nape of your neck and sealed your lips together again for a deeper kiss. Then she pulled away but not before dragging down your lower lip with her thumb as she untwined herself from you and gave you a look that made you burn all over.

“Call me later?”

You nodded.

Alexia grabbed her leather jacket, gave you a smile and one last peck on your cheek, before she strode out of the door. 

The feeling of loss that arrived upon her departure did not go unnoticed by you but before it could settle in your heart, you made your way to Elisa’s bedroom. As soon as you entered though, Elisa shot you a question without any preamble, practically buzzing in her excitement. 

“Mom, why didn’t you tell me you’re dating Alexia?” 

Your cheeks burnt at Elisa’s bluntness.

“Before we get to that, ladybug, I need to talk with you about something first.” You said as you set yourself down next to her on the bed. Elisa regarded you with a look that said she already knew what you were going to talk with her about. You wrapped an arm around her and squeezed her shoulder. “I’m worried about your nightmares and your therapy. Do you think we need to switch to a different therapist?”

Elisa gnawed on her lower lip before she spoke in a soft voice. “I like my current one. She’s cool and she makes it easy for me to talk about what happened. But I can take more sessions if you want me to.”

“Do you think you need more sessions?” You looked at Elisa pointedly, emphasising the fact that the choice was hers to make. “All I want is what’s best for you and your wellbeing, Elisa. I’m not trying to make you do anything, especially if you know yourself you don’t need them, but I also can’t just stand by and watch so I’m just here to tell you that there are options. If you need more sessions, we can do it. If you want to change therapists, we’ll both find you a new one. As long as it’s going to help you get through this, we can do it.” 

“I’m not sure… Can I–” You caught her eye again and you raised your brows at her chosen word, and you watched as Elisa nodded, understanding what you meant, before she began again, “I will talk to my therapist about it and see if I do.” 

You beamed at her, proud as you squeezed her shoulder again. She smiled back.

“So, what do you think is causing this spike in nightmares?” 

“I… I don’t know. I think I’m just nervous? Also, maybe too excited?” Then Elisa added with a small laugh, “or both? I don’t really know.”

“About what, ladybug?”

“Going back to the Academy.”

At this information, you couldn’t help but frown, confused. “Is something happening in the Academy?”

Concern must have been too apparent in your tone because Elisa quickly looked at you and said as she waved her hands in reassurance, “it’s nothing bad, Mom, don’t worry! It’s just, Coach told us there are scouts coming some time around the end of the year and I’m… I really want to play for Barça, Mom.”

You understood her apprehension but her answer didn’t tell you why her shoulders looked like they’d taken on an invisible weight again with the way her spine curved inwards, almost dejected. 

“That’s a really big opportunity, ladybug, so I understand that pressure is there for you to perform your best. Is it the pressure that’s making you think about what happened?”

Elisa shrugged, quirking her lips to the side in an unsure manner. A moment later though, she nodded and admitted in a small voice. “I just don’t want to let them down. I don’t want to let you down.”

“Elisa,” you took her hand in yours.  “Never, never. If your parents were here, they would tell you how proud they are of how far you’ve come already. You’re so strong, ladybug, and you don’t even know how much. And if you happen to fall down, we’ll be here to support you until you’re ready to stand back up again. Just know that whatever happens, you will always be enough. Always, Elisa. ”

Elisa leant her head against your shoulder then she turned her head and gazed at you with wide eyes. “You really think I can make it?” 

“I believe in you, ladybug. Do you?” You pinched her arm playfully which earned you a giggle from her. When she looked back up at you and you saw the determined gleam in her eye, the worry in you was put to rest. 

“Yes.” 

At that, you couldn’t help the warmth that surged through you and you hugged her. “There you go. I’m so proud of you, ladybug.” 

After a moment of silence, Elisa asked in a teasing tone, “so… Alexia, huh, Mom?” 

Your cheeks warmed. “What about her?” 

“Are you together?”

“It’s… complicated right now, ladybug. We’re working on it.”

“Was that why you always looked sad whenever we talked about her? Before now?” You raised your brows in surprise. You’d always tried your hardest to school your features whenever Alexia was brought up because you didn’t want Elisa to worry but you didn’t think that you were that transparent. 

“Did I really?”

“Yeah. I don’t know how to explain it but whenever you tried to smile, it didn’t quite reach your eyes.”

“Oh.” Pause. “I… I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

Elisa shook her head. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Mom. And it’s different now. Now you look happy.”

“I am.” You admitted with a small smile. “How… how do you feel about us, though?”

“I’m happy that you’re happy, Mom. It’s going to take awhile to get used to the Alexia Putellas being around but I’ll be fine. And as long as she treats you well, I’m alright.”

Your chest expanded at her words. “Thank you, ladybug, that… that means a lot.”

Elisa hugged you then and you hugged her back. 

“Speaking of, Alexia offered to take us around the city tomorrow. What do you say?”

At that, Elisa practically jumped up, unable to control her excitement and you laughed. 

True to her words, Alexia pulled up in her car the next day a couple of hours before noon. Alexia looked comfy in her white sneakers, ankle length socks, shorts, an oversized t-shirt, and a baseball cap, and upon opening the door for her, she took you in her arms and kissed you. Her eagerness amused you and you laughed against her lips but you tangled your fingers in her hair to deepen the kiss anyway. 

“I missed you.” Alexia spoke between kisses.

“It’s only been a day,” you smiled into the kiss, charmed. “And I missed you, too.”

Time slipped you as you lost yourself in Alexia’s arms and lips, and you didn’t know how long the both of you were there by the open door, but it was apparently long enough that Elisa needed to interrupt you two. A terse cough made you pull away and, turning to look at Elisa who was standing just beneath the archway that lead to the living room, offered your daughter an apologetic smile. Elisa only stood there with her arms crossed, clearly unimpressed with the way her brows were creased. 

“Hola, Elisa.” Alexia said with a shy wave which drew your attention back to her and you bit your lip at the state of her face. You reached out to wipe away the faint smudge of your lipstick on the corner of her lips and, upon realising what you’d done, Alexia quirked her brows up as she smiled at you, sheepish. 

“Hi, Alexia.” A pause. “Wait, should I be calling you Aunt Alexia now?” 

Alexia opened her mouth then closed it, seeming to be completely disarmed by the question. And when she looked at you with plea in her wide eyes asking you silently how she should answer it, you knew just how much the question definitely caught her off guard.

“Uh, if you want to.” Her words lilted with so much uncertainty it sounded more like a question than a statement. 

Then Elisa grinned at the both of you, practically beaming. “I’m just messing with you, Alexia.” 

She then continued to skip between you two, bounding through the door and down the porch stairs, and you held your laughter in as Alexia looked after her with a bewildered gaze, mouth agape. Once Elisa got to where Alexia’s car was parked, she started to wave the two of you over. 

“She’s… she’s very funny.” Alexia laughed nervously, eyes still fixed at Elisa. Then she whispered conspiratorially, pointing to Elisa for good measure. “Are you sure she’s the same kid I met at the Olympics?”

“Yes.” You chuckled as you locked the door and began descending down the stairs. “She’s only like this when she feels comfortable around people. So, do you know what that means?”

Alexia shook her head.

You smiled at her, cupping her cheek before you pressed a light kiss on the other. “It means she likes you.” 

At that, Alexia smiled back at you with lightness in her eyes before she grabbed your hand, intertwined her fingers with yours, and kissed the back of it. And the gesture warmed you more than Barcelona’s summer sun ever could.

Then, once the three of you were in Alexia’s car, you asked, “so, what do you have planned for us today?”

Alexia adjusted her rearview mirror to look at Elisa at the back seat, smiling. “First of, who’s hungry?”

After a delicious–and a quite scenic–brunch at a restaurant located by one of Barcelona’s waterfronts, the three of you took a short walk down a nearby landing connected to the port. By this time, the sun had already reached its peak, and with the vacant sky and the high tide, the view was one someone would expect to have come out of a film; the blue tinge of both the heavens and the sea was so vivid that you knew your camera would have trouble capturing the essence of it. Image after image, you captured your surroundings and as the three of you walked on, rolls of film were exposed to the light of Elisa and Alexia, and these images, you knew, you would cherish forever. 

At one point during the walk, Alexia asked you to teach her how to work your camera, and so you did. With Elisa between you looking over at the sea, you guided Alexia’s fingers over the camera and taught her how to hold it properly, before you told her about the rest. As soon as she got it, she slung your camera around her neck and immediately started taking photos of you and Elisa. You laughed when she held the camera at arm’s length in an attempt to take a selfie of the three of you, adjusting it as best as she could to get the right angle before she set the timer. You told her as all of you returned to her car that you’d send her the fruit of her labour the moment you developed the negatives. 

About half an hour later after hitting the road again, the three of you ended up at the second stop for the day: Camp Nou’s Barça store–much to Elisa’s delight. When Alexia parked the car at a less crowded spot and began to take her seatbelt off, you fixed Alexia with a reluctant gaze, speaking in Spanish so Elisa wouldn’t understand.

“Is it really wise for you to just march in the store? You’re the Alexia Putellas, after all, there’s no way no one would notice.” 

In response, Alexia held a finger up to indicate you should wait and shifted so she could grab the hoodie that was hanging over the back of her seat. She put it on, zipped it up and pulled the hood down over her cap, then she put on a face mask and her sunglasses, her light brown hair spilling out to frame her face.

“Voila!” Alexia waved her open hands. “What do you think?” 

You looked her up and down. All of her tattoos were covered but even with her attire and her face concealed, you could still recognise her–maybe you could chalk that up to you intimate familiarity with Alexia’s being but still. So you said as you schooled your features, your voice monotonous. “Wow. You really look like a whole new person.”  

Alexia threw her head back, laughing. Then, “we’ll treat it as an experiment and see if they will.”

“That’s very modest of you,” you countered, tone still dry. 

“Thank you,” she retorted in a saccharine tone while she flipped her hair over her shoulder, and that, in turn, made you laugh. 

So then it was decided that you and Elisa would also wear face masks as all of you went on ahead in your quest to infiltrate–as per Alexia’s words–the store. Much to your surprise, Alexia’s disguise worked although she did draw some unwarranted glances, ranging from suspicion to pure amusement, due to the nature of her getup. And to your chagrin, once the three of you got back to the car with your bags of merch, Alexia smirked at you, smugness all too evident in the curve of her lips. 

After that, Alexia took all of you for a drive up a mountainside with the windows rolled down that let the fresh, summer breeze rush inside. With the wind in her hair, she began to sing along with you and Elisa to the music playing on the radio, nodding her head to the beat of the music. At the end of the ascent, Alexia parked the car at your third stop, which turned out to be the Tibidabo Amusement Park.

You knew this place was pretty high up, but the moment you stepped out of the car, even from the parking lot, the view hit you: it was incredible. The city of Barcelona stretched out far into the distance, expansive and seemingly never-ending, and you could just see the strip of blue that bordered the ports, and the colours of the city’s structures were made ever-vibrant by the radiance of the sun. The view pulled you towards the edge of the parking lot, where you put the viewfinder to your eye to capture it.

“The view is stunning, isn’t it?” Came Alexia’s voice from beside you.

“Yeah…” you said, breathless, dragging you eyes from the cityscape to Alexia and as you did the remainder of your breath was completely taken away, cheeks warming when you found Alexia gazing at you, her smile as tender as her eyes, while her loose brown hair fluttered to the breeze which added to the softness of her demeanour. The urge to kiss her then became too much so before you fall into temptation, you closed the distance and simply rested your head against her strong shoulder, an arm around Elisa’s shoulder when she stepped into the space beside you.

Soon, you began a short trek upwards to get to the entrance, and if the view from the parking lot took your breath away, it was nothing compared to what you found at the top: from the regal immensity of the structure of the Temple of the Sacred Heart of Jesus that greeted you, to the Torre de las Aguas de Dos Ríos that stood proud just behind the Temple, to the perspective that overlooked the other side of Barcelona. After another round of picture-taking, the three of you finally entered the park.

The day went by as the three of you amused yourselves with the park's attractions. And since you'd all forgone wearing masks, Alexia was, as expected, recognised by people and was stopped more than a handful of times for photos and signatures during different points of your excursion. And you watched with Elisa on the sidelines, appreciating the way Alexia interacted with her supporters, and smiled at her with encouragement and reassurance whenever she looked at you two with an apologetic gleam in her eyes.

By the time the three of you left the park, the sun had begun to set.

It was another drive around the mountain side that lead you to the last stop for the day: Mirador d’Horta. Alexia parked the car in such a way that the trunk faced the cliffside before she urged the two of you to step out and you gasped. 

You’d seen some magnificent scenes today, but this one was definitely your favorite.

There you stood, taking in the way the lights of the city burned like embers embedded in the earth. There was something about witnessing the city at night that never failed to make you feel connected, elevated, when you see the million tangible proofs of existence: under each light was a person, a family—lovers—all in their own worlds at their corner of this world you shared with them. And in your corner, in the opened trunk of Alexia’s car, was your world right beside you, and there was nowhere else you’d rather be. The three of you sat there in silence, Elisa in the middle of you and Alexia gazing over the city lights.

It wasn’t long until the day finally took its toll on Elisa, and she ended up settling her head on your lap and dozing off into slumber. You smiled down at her, brushing back her hair behind her ear as you watched her breathe deeply, feeling relieved when you noticed the peaceful smile on her lips.

“So her battery does run out. Sometimes, I forget just how much energy kids have.” The pure awe in Alexia’s voice made you let out a quiet laugh.

“It has its way of catching you off guard.” You shook your head fondly before you met Alexia’s eyes and teased, “I can’t believe she tired you out; aren’t you supposed to be the athletic one?”

“Hey! I’m only human; thank you very much. And what’s a thirty-year-old compared to a twelve-year-old?" Alexia raised an eyebrow in challenge.

“Touché. Ah, to feel young and full of energy again.”

Alexia cringed before she laughed out. “Please, stop. You’re making me feel old.”

“I’m making us feel old.”

The both of you chuckled, then took a momentary pause. You turned to Alexia and asked, "Did you run your parents ragged as a kid?”

The inner corners of her brows lifted—it was subtle, but you were familiar enough with the intricacies of her demeanour that you caught it—exposing more of her eyes, which looked pensive in the dim light, her lips pressed in a melancholic line before she smiled, wistful.

“Oh, yeah, but I’d like to think I wasn’t a menace. It’s just—you know, when you get so focused on something that you forget the time?"

You nodded. She continued.

“When I was much younger, there were times I was so intent on winning that I’d forget about dinner. So, one of them would look for me around the streets or the square. But after I got into Sabadell, my energy finally found the right outlet, and most days I’d gone home tired. Papá–” Alexia bit her lip, her eyes glazing over for a moment as she receded somewhere—a tender memory—then she shook her head. You watched the way her throat moved as she swallowed before she continued, voice raspy and quiet, “He, uh, he’d always exclaim, ‘She’s finally tamed!’ whenever I’d slump down on the couch after a practice. It was ridiculous, but it never failed to cheer me up.”

You grabbed her hand and squeezed it, expressing silent gratitude for the memory she imparted, as you smiled at the image of young Alexia with red cheeks in a sweat-soaked shirt, hair matted to her face, being chased and dragged back home to have dinner.

“No, I can’t imagine you being a menace. Mischievous, yes, and probably hot-headed, but never a menace.”

She laughed, winking at you. “Yeah, hot-headed is probably what people who knew me then would say about me. And I can’t imagine you being a menace, either.”

You raised your brow at her, smiling slyly. “Are you sure about that?”

Alexia opened her mouth as if to reassert her claim, but you saw the way her confidence wavered as she regarded you. Then she closed her mouth, now looking more unsure.

“Wait, are you being serious right now?”

You allowed her confusion to linger for another moment before you finally broke your character. “No, I wasn’t a menace, but you really should’ve seen the look on your face.”

Alexia squinted at you and muttered just loud enough for you to hear, her tone dry. “Are you sure about that?”

“Hey!” You yelled quietly, giving her shoulder a playful nudge but being careful not to accidentally jostle Elisa awake before you took her hand again. You intertwined your fingers together and pressed a kiss on the back of her hand, meeting her eyes. Then you took a moment to soak her in.

“Thank you, Alexia, for today. You don’t know how much this means to Elisa... how it means to me.”

Alexia squeezed your hand, smiling softly.

“I’m glad you both enjoyed it.” Alexia squeezed your hand as she regarded Elisa with a soft eye. Then a sincere smile lingered on her lips as she caught your gaze and said, “I think I needed something like today more than I realised. It feels good to be spending time with you again.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest, clearly understanding what Alexia meant.

“I know the feeling,” you whispered. And I missed you, too.”

With her other hand, Alexia reached out over the space between you and brushed her thumb over your cheek, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear as she smiled at you with her eyes and her lips. With the city lights behind her, the soft glow of the car light bathing her features in its golden glow, and the summer breeze playing with the soft strands of her hair, Alexia looked so tenderly human, the embodiment of warmth and all that the word entailed, gentle and, oh, so soft.

The two of you sat in silence, just soaking each other in, until a ping from Alexia’s phone interrupted the moment. Alexia looked down, read it, and then locked the screen with a sigh. When she met your eyes, hers were apologetic. You smiled in understanding.

“Time to go?”

“Yes.” Alexia sighed as she stood up and tucked her phone back into her pocket. “It was Josep. He reminded me I have a full day tomorrow.”

You nodded. You gently roused Elisa, watched her drag her feet to the back seat, and nearly chuckled when she fell right back to sleep after putting her seatbelt on and closing the door. You turned to Alexia, and as soon as she closed the trunk, you cradled her jaws in your hands and pulled her down for a kiss. Immediately, Alexia wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you closer to her.

“I wanted to do that all day.” You whispered against her lips.

Alexia gasped when you nipped at her lower lip before she buried her fingers in your hair, deepening the kiss. “You have no idea.”

On the way back to Derek's house, Alexia kept one hand on your thigh. And with the radio playing softly as the car passed under a tunnel with lights overhead, it felt like you were in a movie.

After Elisa had gone back inside the house after thanking Alexia for the day and bidding her farewell for the night, you kissed Alexia’s cheek in gratitude. Then her lips.

With her forehead resting against yours, she whispered, “I’ll see you Tuesday?”

“Yeah.” You brushed your nose against hers before you kissed her again. You began to pull away. “Have fun tomorrow.”

“I will. I–” Alexia’s cheeks flushed before she smiled. “Bye, for now.”

Later, when you were in bed about to go to sleep, you received a message from Alexia. She sent you a link to a tweet containing a photoset that contained pictures of the three of you but mostly pictures of a hooded Alexia taken from a distance by the photos’ grainy quality, captioned, 'Alexia, what are you doing????’ followed by a string of laughing emojis.

At that, you couldn’t help but laugh. Her disguise was ridiculous in person, but captured like this, you thought it was a work of pure comedy. 

You messaged her back, 'I guess you do have reason to be modest after all.’

[quodekash]

Why The Entire Harry Potter Epilogue Sucks

most of this has definitely already been said before but I have Thoughts™️ and I need to get them all out in one place. also warning this is very long because my thoughts are big and i talk too much 

first, the overall problems (and everything im gonna talk about is the author’s fault cos she wrote it, but this part is more directly her fault so this section could also just be called Me Hating A Bigot): 

Why did she make them all end up with their high school sweethearts? just to satisfy the shippers? i mean i dont entirely hate it that much, like its fine, book hinny actually have chemistry and i can imagine book romione going through a lot of bumps in their relationship but smoothing it out and figuring it out after a few years. and yeah they’ve all been through a lot together, and that creates a really tight bond between two or more people, but the point still stands. (my point being: high school relationships are stupid and pointless. (if you want to debate me on this, go ahead. try and change my mind. (this is genuine, i want to hear your reasons and give you my reasons, debates are fun)))

Draco’s wife. Why. Like, i have absolutely nothing against Astoria Greengrass, I’m sure she’s lovely (we never meet her other than like maybe in Cursed Child at some point? but i read that once and am electing to ignore it forever so lets imagine i never said that). it’s not even a problem with how the author made him marry a woman even tho he’s very much a gay man, it’s the problem that he didn’t get the redemption he very much deserved. he had like two or three shining moments. and even then they weren’t so much shining, more... glistening like sweat. but she couldve tried so much harder with him. she wouldnt even have to change the plot of the books at all. just make him marry... not a pureblood. dont make this character have to continue the legacy of purebredness that he almost definitely despises. instead, let him marry a muggle. or a muggleborn. or a half-blood chosen one who defeated the dark lord with draco’s own wand. or just anyone that isnt a pureblood, cos we dont know much about it, but we can only assume that it was an arranged marriage and neither of them actually wanted it, they were just doing it for the sake of their families. which sucks. and also all the purebloods are already related so just... dont make the incest continue, no one wants it. 

the names of the kids... i dont like it. well, most of it. naming your kids after your dead parents? that’s fine. it could be a little confusing at times, but they’re nice names and its sentimental. and james’ middle name? i have no problem with it. james sirius potter is a perfect naming choice. definitely not a PREfect naming choice, but absolutely a PERfect naming choice.  -and lily luna potter has a ring to it. and i know luna is important, and i know we love luna. but it couldn’t have been like... lily molly potter, so that ginny’s side of the family could be part of it? it couldn’t have been lily minerva potter, to honour the greatest character of the series? it couldn’t have been... other names i cant think of that wouldve been better than lily luna? but overall i dont hate the name lily luna that much, i can deal with it. -as for hugo and rose, as far as i know they dont have middle names? but i just want to know where the names come from. were they just names that they picked out that Felt Right? cos if so i have absolutely no problems with that. it may be that theyre hermione’s parents names? (speaking of which did she ever get to take them back from australia? adding on to that, did her parents know they were from britain when she erased their memories? cos i highly doubt they wouldve magically gotten aussie accents and their voices wouldve stood out pretty clearly, so would they just be Very British but think they’re perfect bogans and never understand why people look at them funny?) But i dont think it is cos ive always assumed that hermione’s mums name is jean cos it’s hermione’s middle name. also i did some extensive research (*cough* a quick google search *cough*) and the name Rose means flower, femininity, that kind of thing, which is sweet, and Hugo means mind or intellect or something like that, which reflects hermione being smart. so those make sense. -but then we get to albus severus. i love the character, he is pure and must be protected. however, the name... no. harry decided to name his kid (the middle child, aka literally the most overlooked one, so there’s the neglected feelings that generally come from being a middle child there already) after two dead guys. “but egg”, you may be thinking, “james sirius was named after two dead guys, too.” Ah, very astute, dear reader, but you’re missing two crucial pieces of information: james and sirius were excellent people who positively affected harry’s life in a lot of ways. Albus and Severus, on the other hand, were people who: emotionally manipulated him, abused him, hated him, raised him as a pig for slaughter, one of them killed the other, and they were both old and sad cos their loved one is gone forever. great idea to name your kid after that. so smart, hazza. absolutely genius. 

“19 years later” means, if you do the maths, the epilogue is set in 2016. surely some things would change. like, would they still use a steam engine train? would there be too many people (gotta love overpopulation), so would the place to get on the train (or whatever mode of transport it would be by then) change to fit everyone? why don’t we see queer couples in the background? why isnt there any mention of phones? i just- i have questions, okay? i mean, i guess the book came out 9 years before 2016. but some of these things were still in play in 2007 and it feels like pollution and overpopulation and queer people and smartphones just dont exist i guess. 

this is a very small one but i would also like to know how draco and harry and ron all happened to have a child go to school in the same year. like yeah, it happens, but sometimes its like a year or two apart. but nope, they all must’ve f***ed their wives on the same night i guess (i know that’s not how it works, but STILL) 

related to the point about it being 2016, but there wasn’t any deamus???? just a tiny mention would’ve been fine. just so that queer readers dont feel so alone. so that queer readers can feel like they’re actually part of this world, that they can feel included and loved, which are the major themes of the series. all we wouldve needed is “Harry saw Dean and Seamus, holding hands and waving goodbye to a little crying girl leaning out of the train window. Seamus tried to conjure a handkerchief to clean her face, but it set itself on fire as soon as he tried, and the girl laughed through her tears.” Or even just that first sentence wouldve been okay. or even a third or fourth sentence where dean sighs into his hand to hide his smile, shaking his head, and either stamps out the fire with his foot or uses aguamenti to put it out but misses and Seamus frowns at him as droplets of water fall down his face and cling to his eyelashes and dean smiles lovingly and kneels down to mock dean’s height and uses the end of his sleeve to wipe off the water and their daughter is laughing really joyously and the train starts to take off but she’s still laughing and smiling and she waves at her weirdo dads until she cant see them again and im sorry im getting carried away, basically what im trying to say here is just one sentence wouldve been all we needed just to feel included 

ron being an auror makes sense i dont mind that. 

but hermione. why is she in magical law enforcement. i know she cares about justice, but she absolutely would not enjoy sitting behind a desk, she would rather being there, out in the world, helping others because she can, not because it’s her job. she should be a teacher, whether at a muggle school or magical school, i dont flipping care, but she enjoys sharing her knowledge with harry and ron and literally everyone, and that’s what a teacher does. plus, she really looks up to mcgonagall, so you’d think she’d want to be like her: a teacher. and hermione LITERALLY SAYS, out loud, in the books, to rufus scrimgeour, that she doesn’t want a job at the ministry, “i want to make some good in the world”, but then that is just scrapped, never thought about again, and she becomes the flipping minister. she couldve even been an auror, she wouldve been a BOSS at figuring out the target’s next move and how to fight them and bring justice (and i am aware it sounds like im describing her as a batman-like superhero, i dont care, MAYBE HERMIONE IS BATMAN, OKAY?), and working with ron, they would’ve been UNSTOPPABLE. hermione couldve worked at flipin flourish and blotts, she could’ve become the new librarian at hogwarts. i know neither of those are making good in the world, but she wouldve been surrounded by books ALL DAY. honestly she couldve worked with dragons with charlie in romania and it still wouldve been better than stuck behind a desk at the ministry 

i love ginny as a quidditch player, that one is excellent and perfect and i cant think of anything better. 

like. lupin was great. but harry taught a whole bunch of teenagers - at the same time - to conjure patronuses within a couple of lessons, when it took lupin months to teach harry. (granted, harry was depressed and was both trying to learn the charm and going against a boggart-dementor, so they’re both impressive, but still)

he taught them heaps of spells he’d only learnt the previous year while practicing for the third task, and only out of books, which is really bloody impressive.

and, again, he could conjure a patronus at thirteen years old, when most wizards cant their entire lives.

and he taught them the only useful thing lockhart (kind of) taught him: expelliarmus.

as for moody’s/barty crouch jr’s classes, we dont know anything about them other than the first one where he did the unforgivable curses on spiders, and that other one where he put the imperious curse on the students. and harry just wouldnt morally do any one of those things so he technically didn’t beat those classes but also he did because harry didn’t perform illegal curses on his students, so. 

idk about quirrel cos i have no clue what he actually taught them (WHAT WAS THE DEAL WITH THAT REPTILE IN THE MOVIES? (was it a lizard? iguana?? i think it was an iguana but idk)), but he literally bested every single one of the teachers he’d previously had for five years in a couple of months. 

also he really enjoyed teaching. he found himself subconsciously planning lessons. he gave them things to improve on, started small and got bigger, gave encouragement, made sure everyone was included, and so many other things i just cant think of right now. and those are all awesome teacher traits. he would’ve loved being a teacher, would’ve loved helping kids reached their full potential.

and thats why he shouldve been a teacher, but heres why he shouldnt have been an auror: hes not invincible. the only person who couldnt kill him at all was voldemort. if voldey had let one of his death eaters step in and cast the spell, harry couldn’t have done anything, he wouldve actually died that time and voldemort wouldve won. and that still applies in the future. and harry’s gonna be fighting dark wizards just about every day. and guess what? he’s the owner of the elder wand. and book harry didnt break it. no no, book harry was sure he’d die a natural death and the wand would lose its power. and im not saying i want harry to die on work, im saying he was pretty reckless because he could get killed by dark wizards (aka people wanting to start their own cult similar to death eaters; death eaters on the run; death eaters put in azkaban who manage to escape; etc etc) on any given day and then they would have the elder wand and it would all turn to sludge.

but also if he couldn’t have taught dada, then surely he couldve at least been a quidditch player like ginny. that would be so much fun. their team would be basically unstoppable, having a bad*ss married couple working together.

just dont have him as an auror, please, im begging you, it doesnt work

and neville being herbology professor is perfect, end of story. 

okay and now specific moments 

some things that bother me are: albus not wanting to be slytherin, and james making fun of him for maybe possibly being sorted in slytherin. like, shouldnt the problems between the houses have been resolved?? it’s been 19 years since the war people, lets finally resolve some conflict here, pick up the pace guys. but not only that, albus’ fear of slytherin and james’ apparent dislike of slytherin tells us that harry hasn’t told them that slytherins can be good and that all the stereotypes of slytherin aren’t true for everyone and kggkfjgkjgkjfgj

harry hears percy talking about broomstick regulations and is glad to not have the excuse to stop and chat. i dont like that. why doesn’t he want to say hi? percy isnt that bad. i know he’s annoying at times but broomstick regulations would be important, and wouldn’t harry be at least slightly interested in it because quidditch and flying??? 

it sounds like ron’s saying he only recently passed his drivers test. he’d had 19 years. why did it take him that long. this one isnt big it just bothers me a little bit 

why did draco nod ‘curtley’? curtley means rude briefly according to google. that doesnt feel right after everything that’s happened. like, harry literally destroyed the darkest wizard of all time, holding what had previously been draco’s wand. surely that makes some kind of connection. and the trio saved dracos life twice in one day, and saving someone’s life is a literal huge deal, it creates this unspoken bond between you. literally the only reason harry ron and hermione are friends is because harry and ron saved hermione’s life. and saving dracos life, someone who, up until then, they hate? and there’s no mention of any kind of bond or unspoken alliance or anything? they just... go on hating each other? and draco didnt sell them out to his family. which basically means draco saved their lives (BEFORE they saved his), so again theres that connection, that bond, where is it? SURELY it wouldnt be a rude nod?? couldn’t it be an awkward smile? a friendly wink (that could have a double meaning *cough*drarry*cough*)? there would sruely be some kind of connection over the 19 years, like i dont believe that they have never met draco’s child before, i dont believe that the trio and draco havent caught up at some point to say thank you or go out for coffee or whatever functional adults do in their daily lives. 

‘dont try to turn them against each other before they’ve even started school.’ YES GOOD EXCELLENT GOOD JOB HERMIONE- ‘dont get too friendly with him tho. granddad weasley would never forgive you if u married a pureblood’ nO. do NOT imply that there’s going to be a romance. this is the fault of the author and also of ron. you should almost never ship people in real life (with few exceptions. like jokes with friends. or larry. or if theyre already a couple.), and ESPECIALLY not LITERAL CHILDREN! being an embarrassing parent talking to your teenage child about their crush or significant other? that’s fine. mortifying in the moment for the child, but funny to look back on. implying that your ELEVEN YEAR OLD CHILD who was probably told about sex and hormones like three weeks ago, is going to MARRY another ELEVEN YEAR OLD CHILD whom they have NEVER INTERACTED WITH is absolutely NOT FINE. and also DO NOT say that your father is NEVER GOING TO FORGIVE THE CHILD. it might seem funny, but this kind of thing could stick with the child forever and, if their hormones do end up making them fall for this other child in the end, they might be terrified of telling their family and might want to keep any potential relationship a secret and that could eat up at them completely and it could result in repression and depression and a whole bunch of mental health problems that wouldve been avoided if ron had just ✨shut his mouth✨. it wouldve been better to say something like ‘“you’re right, sorry”, said ron. but unable to help himself, he leant down and added in a whisper, “we’re counting on you though, Rosie. the family honour rests on your shoulders. but no pressure.” he stood up, grinning, and winked at his daughter.’ 

i have no problems with teddy and victoire. nor do i have any problems with james’ reaction. nor do i have any problems with what the adults say and what the children say in response to that, i actually like this part. 

‘he checked the battered old watch that had once been fabian prewett’s’ IMOKAYIMFINEYOURECRYINGNOTMEHAHA 

why is it that both with james and albus, their mother kisses them and their father hugs them? why didn’t ginny get a hug? why couldn’t harry kiss his sons goodbye? bloody stereotypes and raising boys as people who cant show emotion and affection and not letting fathers be intimate with their sons because showing compassion isnt “manly”. it makes me angry. 

yOu WeRe NaMeD aFtEr TwO hEaDmAsTeRs AnD oNe oF tHeM wAs A sLyThEriN aNd hE wAs BrAvE HARRY I LOVE YOU BUT THATS NOT WHAT ALBUS NEEDED IN THAT MOMENT. he doesnt care about these dead dudes he’s named after. he doesn’t need to know that slytherins can be brave sometimes like a gryffindor. he doesn’t need to know only one example of a slytherin being a “good person”, especially not when it’s an abusive person who is a terrible example in this situation. what albus needs is reassurance. comfort. “albus, whoever you are and whatever house youre put in, we will still love you and support you. slytherin house is not inherently bad. none of the houses are inherently good or bad. people arent inherently good or bad. it’s almost impossible to fit someone into a box of “good person” or “bad person”, because people are complex. there are always reasons behind our actions. and those are only things that are good or bad. our decisions make us who we are.” thats so much better than a couple of sentences of 'i mean you can choose i guess. cos obviously we want you in gryffindor. but like it doesnt really matter. not that much. also youre named after a manipulative gryffindor and an abusive slytherin so have fun with that, k bye see you at christmas’ 

basically the author sucks and i need to sleep more

[golden-fairylights]

That's the coolest ask game I've ever seen!

4, 6, 11, 19, 20, 22 pretty please

Thank you so much for the ask, let's do this🩷🩷

I already answered question 4 here so go check that one out🥰

6- What’s a song that you relate to?

This is a very hard one and I just went though all of my playlists and found so many songs that I relate to on some level but many many more that I just like a lot but got nothing to do with my life. The one song I decided on is "Snowglobe, Pt. 2" by Ethan Jewell because I feel like i know thefeeling he describes in this song quite well and every time I listen to it I feel it so deep that I almost have to cry (sometimes I have to). I jsut feel like that the optimistic ending is really me so, yeah, I guess that one, but I'm really not sure.

11- When’s the last time you cried?

It was a few weeks ago. A little context: I had to stop playing football because of an ingury on my knee and I'm not really over the fact that I have to leave this (quite big) part of my life behind. What made me cry was a conversation with my parents where we talked about other sports I could do because the main thing for me was always the team part and they started naming team sports that I either hate but would be possible (cycling or swimming) or sports that I would love to try but aren't (apparently all other team sports). Somehow all of the emotions came over me. I haven't really cried because of the ingury before and I started crying right there. But in general I don't cry that often.

19- Would you rather be frozen, burned, or drowned?

Frozen for sure! I've heard it feel like falling asleep once you've reaced a point where you don't feel your body anymore. And then when I'm blacked out my heart will just stop beating. (I don't know why you would want to get burned when burnign your finger is already the most excutiating pain ever. Same for drowning, I feel like breathing in water is so painful so why would I choose that one...)

20- If there's hell of some sort, do you think you’re going there?

Well that depends on what gets you into hell right? But let's say you go to hell when you do something with the intention to do something bad or mean. Then I would say I won't go to hell because, while i don't get a long with everybody, I mostly try to understand their perspectives (except with nazis, homophobes and stuff like that, I'm sorry but they are going to my hell for sure). If we are talking about the cristian hell (which is the only one I kind of know about) I would say yes because I don't believe in god.....

22- Would you kill someone you don’t know to save someone you love?

Agh, I feel like I'm rambling way too much but again there are two options here. Option one: Sherlock BBC series final style where I have both of them standing in front of me with someone other trying to kill my loved one and I can only save them by killing an innocent bystander. I don't think I could do it. So no, not if I have to do it directly and with them standing right in front of me. Option two: By saving my loved one the other just dies without me actually doing the killing but I know they would die. I think I would do it.

I'm sorry I've talked this much🩷

[fractal-thoughts]

(ty to @too-much-tma-stuff for convincing me)

Danny is just finally settling in, finding that this is all a lot more manageable when his stress isn't trying to re-kill him, when an alarm is raised.

Someone has smashed through Wayne Manor's gates, and while there are no flashing lights out sirens, everyone at the breakfast table minus Danny got an alert on their phone of the intruders. Within seconds, Damian plants himself next to Danny to casually demand his opinion on his current art piece while a mass exodus of remaining Waynes occurs, heading towards the front door.

Bruce arrives in time to see the (reinforced) door get kicked in by a man whose bulk could put Bane to shame. The man's voice is joined by an unseen woman's who together screech-

"WHERE'S OUR SON?"

They take turns asking increasingly inane questions, from crying for Danny be released from his imprisonment to demanding how long Brucie Wayne had been possessed by a ghost. The Batfam return fire with threats to call the police and insistence that they would face consequences for trespassing and damaging property. Neither side are making headway, ramping up for a physical fight before Danny himself appears.

"Why are you here now?"

The yelling stops, silenced by the boy of the hour, before the stillness is broken by both Bruce and Jack Fenton starting to speak.

"Danny, you don't have to-"

"Danno! We thought you-"

"How could you show up now?"

Another stunned silence. Damian finally steps from the shadows to hold Danny's hand. Danny collects himself a little before continuing.

"Why did you break into the Waynes' home? You're disturbing breakfast."

Maddie steps around her frozen husband to confidently respond.

"You were kidnapped! Vlad told us all about it, how Mr. Wayne to a liking to you and the corrupt Gotham police were on his side. We couldn't leave you with the rich lunatic, you-"

"But Vlad was acceptable?"

Jack unfreezes enough to respond.

"Huh? What do ya mean buddy?"

"... Vlad is a rich lunatic. One I've told you again and again I'm not comfortable around. And not only did you not listen to me, you let him take me."

Danny sniffs, trying to stop crying, but the tears fall faster and faster, and his voice gets watery. He's gripping Damian's hand like a lifeline, who squeezes back with just as much intensity.

"D- Danno-"

"You let a man who I felt actively unsafe around take me far away from everyone I knew. I was lucky that his ego was inflated enough that he paraded me around at the richest party he could access, like a new toy only he could play with. Mr. Wayne noticed something was wrong within the first few minutes of meeting me. You're my parents, what's your excuse??"

The Drs. Fenton stood in the entryway entirely silent, dawning horror matched on their two faces. The Batfam waited with bated breath for their response, but Alfred quickly decided they would not give one. The butler calmly escorted the two back to their bizarre van and advised they head home, and the vehicle slowly drove back down the driveway and beyond.

The Waynes engulfed Danny in hugs a whispered reassurances as he continued to sob, one arm covering his face while the other wrapped protectively around his middle.

It was hard, but things could only go up from here.

This idea sort of burst out of me like Alien so it's unedited. There will probably be more.

In short, Cas picks up on the fact that Danny is pregnant at a Wayne Gala and have the right idea but the wrong context.

------

Danny was barely holding it together and really he had been for a long time. It had sorry of been fun and games at first when he became a hero. Sure his accident had hurt like hell but he'd support of repressed that and for real? Lunch Lady? Box Ghost? Even Skulker was sort of a joke and he hasn't actually felt threatened and shaking around behind his parents backs and sneaking out with his friends had been fun. It had all felt like a game at first, and then somewhere in there things had gotten very real.

He'd known he couldn't count on his family to protect him but they couldn't even see Vlad was a threat. And he felt like he had lost the last of his innocence when he saw the congress Vlad had made of him melt. He hasn't been in time, he had panicked and he had only make to save a couple by taking them into his own body to shield their still forming cores. Ellie and... should Danny name the other one or would he name himself when he was ready?

He kept touching his stomach over where he could feel the little balls of his mirror children hovering just bellow his own core. He was so tired all the time as they relied on his energy, he was eating more then ever and he knew his family was worried. He didn't think he could hide this and he couldn't predict when they would emerge. What if they did in front of his parents? They definitely wouldn't react well. And Vlad kept trying to use this against Danny. Promising to look after him and the babies if he was really insisting on carrying them, as if Danny could rip those tiny 'lives' out of himself now.

And no matter how many times he tried to tell his parents that Vlad was bad news, that he creeped Danny out and made him feel unsafe they wouldn't listen! Dad didn't even hear him and mom made sympathetic noises and then told him to bear with it for Jack's sake because he didn't have many friends.

So of course when Vlad had asked if 'Daniel' could accompany him to a gala in Gotham his father had agreed! Even his mother had agreed when Vlad promised it would be educational and safe! And here Danny was, hanging on by a fucking thread in a suit that felt uncomfortably tight around his middle, having just escape being paraded around as Vlad heir like a particularly expensive watch. He was behind the snack table having piled a plate as high as he could and scarfing it down before Vlad could find him again and scold him for being rude. He hadn't noticed yet that a family of dark haired socialites kept giving him worried looks. A young woman with dark eyes signing frantically to a man with blue eyes and a dimpled frown.

It was the man who slid up carefully next to Danny trying not to startle since he seemed to have genuine food aggression.

"Yeesh kid you seem like you're starving! All those fancy Hors d'oeuvres are fun but not very cooling and I feel like I'd be a poor host of I didn't offer you something more filling! If you'll come me to the kitchen I'm sure our family butler would be happy to whip something up for you?" The man said with an inviting some that did nothing to sooth the way Danny's hackles raised instinctively.

He was about to say no on reflex when he spotted Vlad heading towards them with an expression like a thunder cloud. Danny's back went ridged and the other man followed his gaze with a frown. "You know what ya that sounds great let's go now!" Danny said dropping his half full plate on a nearby tray and dragged the stranger away with him as Vlad shouted after him.

"Daniel come back this instant! Unhindered mister Wayne! Daniel this is unacceptable!"

'Mr. Wayne' took over leading them and spirited Danny through a back door as a bubbly blonde intercepted Vlad and a small woman slid in behind them like a shadow.

"So, Danial I assume?" The man asked, amusement crinoline around his eyes as Danny grimaced.

"Mr. Wayne I assume?" Danny returned, unaware of the way one arm was protectively wrapped around his stomach, but the girl noticed. It was Dicks turn to grimace.

"Okay ya, I go by Dick. What about you?"

"Danny," he said not reacting to the name, he'd heard far stranger. "And what about you?" He asked Cas, startling Dick a little because she was doing her 'shadow thing' and not many people would have noticed her.

"That's Cas, she has a hard time talking sometimes," Dick explained as Cas materialized and gaze Danny a reassuring smile and wave.

The teen harrumphed but he did follow them down to the kitchen where Alfred was drinking a cup of tea, staying well clear of the foolishness upstairs. "Ah, hello young masters," Alfred he said, glancing between the three with a raised brow. Though the two who knew him could see the way his expression softened when Danny shrunk in on himself. "What can I do for you?"

"Hey Alfred so we have any leftovers from dinner or something filling we can whip up fast? Danny here is too hungry for just the fancy font for upstairs." Dick asked cheerfully.

Alfred raised his eyebrows again and looked at Cas who was standing behind Danny. Glancing at Danny to make sure he wasn't looking she grimaced then touched her stomach and mimed holding an infant.

Alfred's expression turned stormy for just a moment then smoothed. "Of course we do, Why don't you make our guest comfortable and I'll see what I can do. Do you have any allergies young man?" Alfred asked and Danny shook his head mutely.

"You're the best Alfie!" Dick said, hovering a hand over Danny's shoulder rather then actually touching him as he leas him towards the comfortable breakfast nook.

The boy seemed tight lipped and gaunt, his eyes flicking around them as if he expected a threat to pop up at any time. Dick slipped into the booth across from him. Trying to think of the best way to ask this kid how... why, and who hurt him.

Cas has stayed in the kitchen, but not for long. She came to them with a tray of mugs moments later and slip into the booth next to Danny. Gently she took his hands and pressed the warm mug unto them. He blinked and focused of it, as if on autopilot he lofted it to his lips, Cas keeping a hand on his elbow to steady him as he drank.

The warm comforting drink, and hand on his arm, presence by his side as Cas slid imperceptibly closet and closer till she was pressed against Danny's shoulder, felt like they were taking him apart from the inside. Thawing out the cold numbness he shielded himself behind. Half way through his tea he glanced up, at the worried blue eyes so like Jazz, so worried and warm.

He put down the mug suddenly as a sob shook his body. Cas wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, cooing comforting wordless little sounds as she let him bury his face into her chest and just sob heaving, exhausting outbursts of repressed emotion.

"Are the babies okay?" She asked and he froze, his breath catching in his throat. She clicked her tongue and rocked him gently. "Okay, okay, not in trouble," she promised.

"They- I don't know, they were so weak, Im trying, but I don't know if I can keep them alive." Danny sobbed lifting his hands to cover his face.

"The stress can't be helping," Dick pointed out, climbing across the table like it was nothing to sit next to them and rub Danny's back. Danny gave a little hiccuping hysterical laugh. "Do you have support, or like, do you know your options?" He asked awkwardly.

"I'm not getting rid of my babies! I don't care if the man who made them is an obsessive creep who drugged me! I love them they're MINE!" The feral protectiveness seemed to startle Dick even as Cas continued to make soothing sounds.

"Your choice, only yours," she promised. "Have help?"

Danny sniffled and shook his head. "Safe?" Another shake of the head.

"The man who... did this?" Dick asked as delicately as he could. Another hysterical laugh.

"I've tried! I've tried to tell my parents he's a creep, he's dangerous bit they don't listen! My dad thinks he hung the fucking stars, mom says he's harmless. They don't believe me! I-I can't tell them about the babies. They'd make me get rid of them or worse! I can't." Danny sobbed and Cas soothed.

"Okay, okay, you don't have to." She promised. "You stay with us, you and babies safe, never have to see him again."

"Ya right. Wait, your serious? What" Danny asked, pulling back and looking at her with wide bloodshot eyes.

"She's very serious young master," Alfred said as he approached making Danny jump. there was a hard set to the old man's jaw and steal in his eyes that left no room for questions as he set a plate of eggs, sausage, and fruit in front of Danny. "Master Bruce has a foster license and is a mandatory reporter. I'm sure once he hears even a fraction of this he will insist you stay. I will prepare a room for you. Am I to assume the man who's shouting demanding your return upstairs is the source of this distress?"

Danny swallowed and nodded, Alfred nodded back and paused to rest a gloved hand gently on Danny's hair before walking away briskly.

"Eat," Cas said, nudging him gently to let go of her. "As much as you want. Still hungry? We raid Tim's secret cereal stash."

"Gasp! You know where it is? You've been holding out on me?!" Dick demanded with exaggerated betrayal and as the two started to banter Danny ate. He was glad of the distraction, of not having the attention on him as he devoured the healthy, and nutritious meal the butler had made for him. It had been a while since he'd had a good home cooked meal, it made his core feel warm and he could feel the two little echoes as his hummed.

The babies were happy too, he didn't believe these people could keep him safe from Vlad really, but this was nice. Maybe he would let them try, get a few more good meals, a respite, and maybe... maybe his parents would finally notice that something was wrong and actually stand up for him?

That was probably wishful thinking but he could hope right? there was no harm in that.

[n0thingbutlov3]

need you now

in which an impulsive voicemail leads to some secrets being spilled.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader. warnings/tags: angst (sorry i’m incapable of being nice lol) hurt/comfort tho!! lil bit of fluff too because i AM capable of being nice, alcohol consumption as a coping mechanism (i’m literally just a girl…) spencer and reader are broken up :( but they’re still sooo in love and it’s soo obvious so it’s fine!! (also it kind of gets fixed at the end-ish. you’ll see *evil smirk*) reader cries a lot (real) spencer is a cutie (as always) spencer and reader sleep together…no like literally, not in a funny business way, some swearing, no use of y/n!!! wc: 3k a/n: hihihi!! so this is my first fan fiction i’ve wrote and completed ever (gulp) it’s also my first time publishing one (gulp) my writing could definitely be better and so could my grammar tbh but i HOPE if you choose to read you’ll enjoy…feedback is always appreciated (plsplspls) also like requests?? if anyone’s into that—id love to write more but inspo is difficult sometimes. if there’s any spelling mistakes im sorry, eye am very tired!! it’s 5am *eye twitching* okay i’m going to sleep, gootbye IF U SAW ME EDITING THIS 5 TIMES NO U DIDNT (i’m bad at tumblr ok..)

“Hi. This is Doctor Spencer Reid. I’m not available right now, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can…”

His tinny voice cut off to make way for the signature beep of the beginning of a voicemail recording.

You could hang up now—you should hang up now, save yourself some dignity and go drown your sorrows in alcohol like a normal person instead of calling your ex-boyfriend.

You should, but your mouth was opening before your finger could reach the hang-up button, and…and it was a losing battle from the moment you clicked on Spencer’s icon.

“Uh—hi, it’s…it’s me.” You huffed out a sad laugh.

“So, um, I…I tried calling, but you didn’t answer so…” The static buzz of silence hummed through your ear, just inches from where you held your phone with a shaky grip. “maybe you’re on a case or out with friends, or someone else—“ You let the implication hang in the air—the thought of Spencer potentially being in a relationship bringing a lump to your throat.

You swallowed it down.

“I just…I just had an unbelievably shitty day, Spence.” You sniffed, wiping the moisture that had escaped from your eye with your sweater sleeve. “I know you’ve never read A Series of Unfortunate Events but I think I’d give those kids a run for their money.” You tried to laugh but it came out as more of a sob.

You inhaled shakily, trying to collect yourself and remember why on earth you thought it would be a good idea to call Spencer when you’d been broken up for months. Hell, you hadn’t heard from him at all since you had parted ways—except from the odd text about returning each others’ things. It was obvious he had moved on, and here you were, filling up his voicemail with blubbering messages and making references to adolescent books.

“God, sorry about this.” You breathed out a watery chuckle. “I just…didn’t want to be alone, I guess. But that’s-um-not your problem anymore, so I’m—I’m sorry. Have a nice night.” Your voice cracked and you hung up before you could start weeping down the line. You didn’t need to look even more pathetic.

You pulled your phone away from your ear, looking down at his contact photo through blurred vision. He was smiling—not the tight, closed lip smile he gave other people, but a full, bright smile that had his dimples showing. One of your hands was wrapped loosely around his neck and the other was holding your phone just far enough away to capture both of your smiles. Your head was rested on top of his shoulder, tilted just slightly to the left so your temple was brushing against his.

It felt like looking at a vintage photograph—you knew those people and their happiness existed at some point in time, but it wasn’t tangible; you couldn’t verify it was real.

When you were with Spencer, you never doubted how real it was. All you had to was look at him across the room and he’d flash you a smile identical to the one in that photo and you’d just…know.

It felt like forever ago now that you’d been on the receiving end of that grin and it killed you. So much so that before you could consider the repercussions, you were trudging through to your kitchen and grabbing the bottle of whiskey that sat unopened in your cabinet. It had been a present—from Rossi, actually. When Spencer had first introduced you to the team, the older man had given it to you as something of a welcome gift. Of course, he couldn’t have known you weren’t much of a drinker, and since you wanted to make a good impression (and because you were sure it had cost more than all the alcohol you had consumed in your life combined) you accepted it—deciding to save it for a rainy day.

You think this qualified.

You grabbed the bottle, a glass, and padded back through to your living room, slumping onto your couch. You filled your glass up a little less than halfway before gulping it down, enjoying the burn in your throat—it was better than the constant thickness.

You poured yourself another glass before turning on the TV. You weren’t sure what was playing—it didn’t really matter anyway, your vision was already being obscured by tears again.

You thought the pounding was in your head at first—serves you right for drinking half a bottle of whiskey. Only, it wasn’t, because moments later the pounding subsided and instead, your apartment door was opening, casting your pitch-black living room in a yellow glow which temporarily blinded you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your mind hazy—again, serves you right for drinking half a bottle of whiskey. Someone was calling your name, but there was too much sensory input for you to make out who.

You certainly hoped it wasn’t a paramedic—maybe your neighbour had heard you sobbing for the last four hours and decided you needed a wellness check. Then there were hands on your face, and that had you flicking your eyes open, because you recognised those hands—impossibly soft, with a callus on his trigger finger being the only thing to mar them. Spencer.

“Spencer?” You slurred.

He sighed in exasperation (or relief) and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Are you alright? You weren’t answering your phone, I thought…” He trailed off, worry evident in his voice.

You sat up then, trying to compose yourself even though the room was spinning. Fucking whiskey. You rubbed your eyes haphazardly, blinking until you could finally see.

You should’ve stayed bleary-eyed. Because nothing could prepare you for the way your breath hitched when you finally saw him. After months of not seeing each other, Spencer was here, sitting on your couch, and he was looking at you like you were something fragile, and—God, you needed another drink. You turned away from him, reaching for the neck of the bottle as you spoke.

“I’m fine.”

Before you could lift it up, Spencer gently pried your hand away from the bottle with his own, and then slid it across the coffee table with his other.

“You’re drunk. No more of that, please.” His tone wasn’t unkind, but he left no room to argue. You probably would’ve objected anyway, if it weren’t for the way he kept his hand clasped around yours, rubbing soothing circles into your pulse point almost absentmindedly.

You glanced up to him—to stop yourself from staring at your hand in his and how natural it felt, more than anything—but that proved to be a mistake too, because he looked just as beautiful as thirty seconds prior and it felt just as natural for him to be sitting next to you on your sofa, but it wasn’t natural anymore.

“How did you get in?”

“My key.”

“Oh.”

Right. The key that he still had because you refused to meet up with him to let him return it. He tried for weeks to contact you, but you ignored him, because getting the key back meant things were finally over. You supposed he could return it now—maybe that’s why he came in the first place.

“Why did you come?” You asked, your voice impossibly small.

“You called.” He replied—as though he was talking about something as simple as the weather. You call and I come.

You searched in his eyes for any sign of a lie, but of course, there was none. He was being completely genuine—as always. You were the awful ex-girlfriend who left concerning voicemails on his phone and had him travelling to your apartment in the middle of the night only for him to look completely okay with the situation—like there was nothing he’d rather be doing than making sure you were safe.

You couldn’t help the way tears sprung to your eyes or your lip began to tremble as you lolled your head back onto the couch, pulling your gaze away from his.

“Angel, what’s wrong?”

You liked to consider yourself to be a strong person. You had been through things in your life that were objectively worse than your breakup with Spencer, but something about the gentleness of his tone and the way he had let one of his many (past) petnames for you slip had your throat tightening and you ducked your head into your one hand—the other still seized by Spencer’s—to try and muffle a sob.

“Hey,” He trailed his hand that was wrapped around yours up your arm, all the way to your shoulder blade before lightly guiding you towards him. You don’t have enough energy in you to fight his magnetic pull, so you shuffle over until you can bury your head into his shirt. You inhale his scent; vanilla, neroli, and so him it makes you ache.

Stopping your tears is futile—you’d know, they’d barely ceased all night—so you just let them fall, seeping into Spencer’s tie as he rubs one hand softly up and down your back, the other cradling the crown of your head.

His breathing is quiet and slow—the exact opposite of yours—and you try to imitate it—forcing air into your lungs. When your sobbing has turned to shaky breathing and the occasional sniffle, he speaks up.

“Do you want to talk?”

Talk about what? About what had happened today—what had led you to calling him? Talk about how for the last few months, he had been the only person you had wanted to call?

“No.” You hated how pitiful you sounded.

“Okay.”

Spencer didn’t say anything else for a minute—your synchronised breathing being the only thing to stop the room from falling into dead silence.

“You need to rehydrate.” He murmured, smoothing down your hair.

You hummed into him, in no hurry to unwrap yourself from his body. You probably wouldn’t get to be this close to him again, after all.

He moved both of his hands to your biceps, pulling you back slightly so you could look at him. He knitted his brows together in a silent plea which had you rolling your eyes petulantly, your lashes still damp from tears.

“Fine.” You peeled yourself off of him, pushing yourself into a standing position. Horrible mistake. You were still incredibly drunk, turns out, and everything was spinning a little bit and come to think of it, you were also nauseous and—

“Careful, lovely.” Spencer placed his hand firmly on the small of your back, keeping you upright.

and—actually, you were fine now.

He stood too, moving his hand just slightly over to your waist so he could guide you to the kitchen. When he knew you could stand upright—even if you were relying mostly on the counter behind you—he grabbed a glass from your cabinet, moving around effortlessly to pour you some water. The sight was so domestic you almost wanted to cry again. Maybe in some alternate timeline, where you and him could’ve worked, this would be an every day thing—minus the drunk sobbing part, of course.

He handed you the glass of water, watching as you took a few sips. He raised an eyebrow, nodding his head slowly.

“Whole thing, please.”

You let out an exasperated (affectionate) sigh and gulped the rest of it down, setting it on the counter behind you.

“Happy?”

“Very.”

You smirked, trailing your gaze down his body. He was still in his work clothes which, at the very least, meant he wasn’t on a date before he came here. He always changed before dates—well, for you, anyway. You wondered if he had been on any dates since the breakup—you certainly hadn’t. It had been long enough now that it wouldn’t be weird for you to start seeing other people—but you didn’t want to. You weren’t sure you’d ever want to, to be completely honest.

The more you thought about it, the more the whole thing seemed stupid. You didn’t want anyone else, you wanted Spencer. You had tried to get over him but if tonight was any indication—it clearly wasn’t working. You can’t even remember why you broke up in the first place—it all seemed so insignificant now. No amount of pain you had ever experienced in your relationship had come close to that of living without him.

You met his eyes once more and it was like he could see the question brewing. He tried to stop you, calling your name in a quiet warning, but you ignored him.

“Why did we break up?”

He frowned, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth with his tongue in that maddening way he did.

“I—you know why—“

“No, but I don’t! I know things were difficult sometimes but that doesn’t mean it didn’t work. It worked—we worked.” Your eyes were stinging again.

Spencer pressed his index and middle finger into his eye, furrowing his brows.

“I know, I know we worked, angel—but you were sad all the time, remember? I was gone so often and it wasn’t good for you.” His true emotions were indecipherable but his tone was soft, and you wished you could be as calm about this as him. Did he just not care as much as you did?

“But It’s—It’s worse now—“ You choked out, tears falling freely now. “I was sad when you were gone, but you always came back—you don’t come back anymore.”

Spencer removed his hand from his face, flexing it at his side like he was uncertain what to do with himself before taking a stride towards you. He brought a hand to your face, wiping the tears from under your eyes delicately—like you were made of porcelain.

“Listen, sweetheart—alcohol affects your ability to regulate your emotions and I know right now it might feel worse but that doesn’t mean it always—“

“Spencer, stop! It’s not the fucking alcohol, I miss you! I miss you all of the time! Even—even when I’m having a good day—I still want you—and especially when I—when I have a bad day—“ You choked out through heaving breaths.

“Breathe.” He urges, cupping your cheek. And you’re so, so angry, and sad, and tired that you have no choice but to shut up and listen to him. When you’ve adequately calmed down, he moves his hand to your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him.

“I don’t think we should talk about this tonight but I—“ You open your mouth to protest.

“I promise we can talk about it tomorrow when you’re sober—if you still want to.”

Your lip trembles of its own volition and you frown.

“Of course I want to.”

“Okay,”

“Okay.”

He gives your eyes a final wipe before he’s—rather unexpectedly—pulling you into a hug. You all but melt into him, your head finding its home in his sternum and your arms wrapping around his middle. He tilts his head down, kissing the top of your head—and you’re certain you can’t let this go again. You will chain him down before Spencer leaves this apartment again.

Everything is wordless from there—mostly because you’re so, so exhausted that even talking seems like too difficult a task. Spencer helps you find something more comfortable to change into and you pull out an old t-shirt of his and a pair of plaid pyjama pants you had kept here for him. I guess your keeping them ‘just in case you needed them in the future’ had come in handy, after all.

As you washed your face, Spencer snuck through to the kitchen, refilling your water and grabbing two aspirin in a not-so-subtle attempt to help the inevitable hangover you were going to have in the morning.

You caught him placing them on your bedside table and mock gasped.

“Trying to drug me in my sleep so you can make a run for it in the night?”

He grinned lazily—exhaustion creeping up on him as well.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You smiled, flopping yourself onto your bed rather ungraciously. Spencer looked at you like you were something fascinating before biting his lip, clearly deep in thought.

“What?” You let out a self-effacing little chuckle.

“I was just…wondering…if you’d like me to sleep on the couch?”

You probably should’ve been more careful in your facial expressions considering you were still broken up but your thoughts about that offer were obvious.

“No, stay.” Stay in your bed, in your apartment—stay anywhere that was close to you.

Maybe you were coming on a little too strong.

“Unless you want to, I mean—“

“No, no—I’ll stay.” Forever, preferably.

He walked around to the other side of your bed—as he had done so many times before—and sat down, pulling the covers over his legs. You mirrored his movements before flicking your bedside lamp out, turning to face him.

You were a little thankful you were so out of it, because this had the potential to be very awkward otherwise. Spencer shuffled down so that he was at eye level with you, turning to face you as well.

You just stared for a moment, committing him to memory. The moonlight had a way of highlighting all the high points of his face, and the twinkle in his eyes, and—God, you were so glad the moon existed and that Spencer was in your bed that you couldn’t help but giggle.

“What?” Spencer laughed along with you, even though he had no idea what was so funny.

“Nothing. You’re pretty.”

“You’re drunk. Go to sleep.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Why?”

“Scared you’ll be gone when I wake up—like I made it all up.”

Spencer’s smile faded then, and he looked at you with something that seemed so much like the one thing you had been willing yourself to stop doing the whole time that you’d been broken up, that it almost took your breath away.

“I won’t. I promised, didn’t I?”

You nodded.

“So there’s nothing to worry about. Now get some sleep, lovely.”

You smiled, feeling Spencer’s hand inching towards yours. He intertwined them and gave yours a squeeze.

“Just in case you make a run for it in the night.”

You chuckled, your eyelids fluttering shut. Yeah, you could make it work.

part two!

[plumipal]

Last Name Dilemma

Yknow, this is purely for myself, happy me hating my last name. This is a yandere thing btw and please note that I am an artist, not a writer :,) so sorry for any grammar/spelling mistakes

I had this amazing idea. If you don't really like your last name and get sucked into the world of twisted wonderland, why not just get a new one? It's very easy when you have suitors vying for your attention at every corner of the school! 🤭

It all started in the cafeteria...

Of course they were overjoyed you thought their last names were cool, did this mean you indirectly wanted to marry them? Well the game is on, and they for sure will win.

Much to their displeasure though, rumors speads fast at NRC, with everyone else quickly getting to know about your lastname dilemma. They are not backing down, wanting to burn the world down just to achieve their happy ending with you.

Ace

Of course you would want to marry him! He is your first friend in this wretched school after all! (Deuce would like to differ on that statement but yeah)

Ace may not be the richest, smartest or most beautiful, but he is your best friend, (hopefully) your first choise and (will make sure to be) your first love! Guy is serious. He will also pull all sorts of dirty tricks against everyone else, you're his bestie to marry no one else's!

Deuce

Ah poor little Deuce. Guy choked on his food when he first heard you talk about how cool their last names sounded. You think his last name is cool? Does that mean that you like him too? You wanna date him, marry him? Be his forever?? He is feeding into his own delusions and your words are only making it worse.

As soon as he has finished lunch he will excuse himself and make a call to his mom and tell her the wonderful news on how you and him will definitely get married! (He just gotta get you a sweet, sweet ring that you deserve)

Cater

Cater being quick on the trends, he was even quicker on the rumors about you having no last name (and definelty needing one). He has such a cute last name, it would fit so well with you! <3

He is already dreaming up the perfect magicam wedding, to show off how the oh so wonderful you chose him, and no one else. He also dreams of the private moments after, how you'll hold him as he sobs his heart out, so happy you chose him. He hopes these silly daydreams will soon become reality, cos he can't wait much longer..

He also definelty overloads you with his clones, giving you so much love you don't need to turn to anyone else for that :)

Trey

When Trey heard the rumors he sighed, feeling bad for how overwhelmed you probably are with everyone else's proposals. Well, come to him whenever you feel like it's too much, he will always make sure to lktsen to your problems (he loves the domestic feel to just having late night chats with you in the heartlbuyl kitchen as he prepares another batch of sweets for the next unbirthday party).

He will make sure that his own proposal of marriage is short and sweet, and he is sure it will win you over, who wouldn't want his sweets all day every day? He will make sure to feed and love you for the rest of eternity if you chose him <3

Riddle

Riddle is messy, he wants you as his spouse and he kinda wants it NOW, since he feels like he deserves it. You're the perfect match to him, the king of hearts to his queen od hearts...

He will show off how good of a husband he would be to you, how he will take care of you with a stable job, how he will help you with all homework and make sure you get special treatment on unbirthday parties. If he sees anyone trying to propose why they should be yours and not him, well, you know his unique magic...

Jack

Wolves mate for life. Jack wants to mate for life. Who does he want as his mate? You. You have changed his life, and he does not want to lose you, please. He is territorial, liking how your name would sound with his last name, now he just gotta make it happen..

Ruggie

Ruggie feels desperate when he hears the rumors. Why would you chose him, when you have literal celebrities, prince's and high standing people vying for you? Then he remembers, he owes you. It's usually the other way around yes, bur he owes you somehow.

With this he cooks up the amazing plan of giving you his last name as a thanks for that one time. He also gotta introduce you to his family, he knows granny bucchi is gonna peer pressure you into accepting marriage with him...

Leona

Leona will not lose you. He has lost so much coming second to everyone he knows. He will NOT lose you to anyone here, he will fight dirty and kill for you if there's a chance he gets with you. He has the money to hire help to get rid of people too, and that same money can sway you into chosing him, since that deadbeat crow ain't giving you a liveable sum to live on.

He makes sure to capture you for naps whenever he can, making sure to leave his scent on you, enough so most people can smell how he has been on you.

Floyd

Eeh? Shrimps wants a good last name?? Well with his you could scare oh so many away, leading to an easy life for you! It also leads to a fun life with you and him, and there will never be a dull moment in his life with you by his side!

Just don't take his last name with his brother yeah? Get with him instead.

Jade

Oya? The prefect wants a last name? A husband too perhaps? Jade's smile widens as he plans out how to trap you into a wonderful marriage with him. Perhaps some of his new mushrooms in his terrariums will make you tired enough to get you to sign a marriage contract with him?

Just don't marry his brother instead of him, he don't really know how he would handle that..

Azul

Azul feels himself become of sp happy whenhe heard the rumors. Finally! You will have him corner you as soon as he can, sweet smile on his face as he offers you a golden contract of his. He crafted it meticulously, making sure everything in it would be perfect for the both of you.

He tries to butter you up so badly, please he just wants you to himself, is that too much to ask for?

Jamil

Jamil has to hold back to use snake whisper, but he has it in case you chose the wrong option (not him). He wants you, he does that to lose you to anyone, ESPECIALLY KALIM. He probably uses snake whisper against others, to sabotage, to do anything. He just can't lose you...

He definelty shows off his cooking and cleaning skills, showing how he can be the perfect househusband for you. Look how good you could have it with him...

Kalim

Kalim is manipulative about this. He mat not be aware of it, bur he sure is. He wants you as his (spouce) bestie, and he will get that. Guy has never gotten a no, and he will not get one now (he hope atleast).

Let him plan you a grandiose wedding! With food, clothes, venue, parades and so much more worth millions and millions of thaumarks. He will space no expense for you!

Epel

Why is epel so roughened up? Why he fought for your hand of course! Isn't it manly to show off that you can easily fend gör your love? He also loves loves LOVES the attention you give him as you fix him up.

He feels so proud of the fights he won, wearing the scars like proud medals, so please take care of them before they get infected- he will only let you do it-

Maybe he will get into more fights if he can get your heavenly touch as a reward..

Rook

Rook stalks you on the daily, so of course he got to work as soon as the words left your mouth. He will hunt you down, get your heart and love and live happily every after :)

He 100% gets violent as well, bur of course you won't see that side of him! He wouldn't want to scare you..

Vil

Vil is certain you will chose him. He is the fairest of them all (niege don't count he is ugly), that is what you deserve. He will take care of you, especially your appearance. You've sent how he is with epel, now get ready for double that...

He dolls you up, makes you the best version of yourself so he can show you off on his socials,to mush it into that dumb nieges face that THE vil had you and niege doesn't. He is the fairest of them all with you of course..

Of course, he is the only queen worthy enought for your love and affection, so please just marry him already, he wants a Photoshoot together with you...

Idia (plus Ortho being STRICTLY PLATONIC)

I'm sorry but have you read his ssr story? Guy doxxes over nothing lol. He will breach your security if you tell him no, he has lost so much already, can't he have you please? You're the only thing he wants...

He will 100% use Ortho against you, backing you into a corner together with the robot. Ortho wants to make his brother happy, and he would be the happiest together with you. Ortho would also be so so so happy if you were his bif sibling too!

Theyve lost so much, they just want a happy family, together with you.. (ORTHO ONLY WANTS YOU AS A SIBLING NO WEIRD SHI AGAINST ORTHO PLEASE)

Sebek

Sebek has to run to lilia for guidance. Why has this human out this wonderful spell on him, why does he feel so lightweight? Why is his face so red? Why does he want to reject you for the rest od your days, more than he wants to protect malleus?

He wants to marry you. To have a wonderful marriage between human hand half fae, almost liek his parents... he will protect you at all costs. Please do love his loudmouth ass back..

Silver

Silver has no last name as well, so in his mind you both are already matching. He is too sleepy to actually do anything other than fall asleep with you.

Lilia

Lilia would snicker at the rumors. Ah, how he feels young again, silly what love can do to someone... he would love to help his son's with this, but sadly he wants this just as much if not more...

Malleus

Malleus does not want to lose his friend. His first and only real friend. He has tried to court you for so long, and now that you've dropped a hint that you wanted him (by saying you wanted a cool last name) he starts the royal courting traditions.

He follows all the traditions, step by step, being very careful to be correct and sparing no expense. He makes sure you see the future home of yours (the castle), his humongous hoard and his greatest treasure, gao gao dragon..

.. holy hell this was so much longer than what I expected. Well, who would you go for? Do tell :,)

Also, would yall want more long form content like this or way more short form? My asks got deleted so don't really have any to draw smhhh </3 so do send shi in please <3

[brnesblogposts]

Do you take this pebble?

Bucky barnes x fem!reader

this was written quickly because if i didn’t do it now i never would so sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes. also i suck at using punctuation so ignore that too!

——————————————————————-

“Hey what’s wrong, Doll?” Bucky asks as he walks into the bedroom to find his best girl crying.

“Penguins” She mutters out and Buckys face turns into a perplexed expression.

“Penguins?” He asks as he scoots onto the bed to get closer to her, laying a hand on her thigh.

“Did you know- did you know that the male penguin will scour the area for the perfect pebble to present to the female as a way of proposing? If she says yes they mate for life.” She starts crying again and Bucky tries holding back his laugh because he thought something had upset you but no you’re crying over penguins.. He moves a bit to accommodate you on his lap, your head on his chest as he rubs his hands up and down your back to soothe you.

“This is ridiculous, i’m ridiculous. Sorry” You apologise for being overly dramatic and Bucky shushes you, you’ve always been emotional and the smallest thing, sad or happy can set you off. He finds it endearing how much you feel.

“It’s okay, baby” He kisses the crown of your head “It’s not ridiculous” He reassures you. The two of you lay there for awhile in each others embrace.

____________ The next morning _____________

After the whole debacle of your emotional breakdown over penguins last night Bucky and you both woke up and got on with your regular activities, him going out to run some ‘errands’ that you apparently weren’t allowed to join him on.. so you tended to some spring cleaning of the apartment.

A few hours later Bucky returns.

“Hey Buck, I missed you” You approach him and wrap your arms around him as he returns the hug, he has a bag in his hand.. a suspicious bag..

“I got you something” He says and you automatically smile, he always thinks of you when he’s out, whether it be him bringing home your favourite treat or a bouquet of your favourite flowers.

“Yeah..? What is it” You beam excitedly and he laughs at your eagerness. You both walk to the kitchen where he sets the bag down on the island.

“Close your eyes and put your hands out” He says and you give him one last suspicious look before you listen and close your eyes. It’s then you hear him go into the bag and get something out, a few seconds later something is placed in your hands, it’s weirdly heavy.

“Open them!” He’s got a bright smile plastered on his face anticipating your reaction.

You open your eyes.

“A pebble?”

“You know how you were telling me about penguins last night..” He jogs your memory and it instantly works because you’re putting it down and jumping into his arms.

“OH MY GOD BUCKY YOU GOT ME A PEBBLE!” He laughs at how adorably excited you are. Eventually he manages to pry you off of him.

“It’s not just any pebble.. break it open.. theres a pretty crystal inside” At this your eyes brighten up, you pick the pebble up and put it on the chopping board and use a hammer that’s meant for meat to break it open. It takes a few tries but eventually you get it open and see what’s inside and pick it up.

“A diamond??” You look at it absolutely baffled and turn around to ask Bucky what it’s all about but stop in your tracks at the sight before you.

Bucky on one knee. Bucky on one knee holding an empty band, looking at you with the most love stricken eyes.

“Accept my pebble and do me the honour of being my mate forever?” He is smiling so big and you stand shocked as tears escape your eyes.

“Bucky..” The biggest grin breaks out on your face.

“What do you say, doll? Will you marry me? Be my penguin partner forever and ever?” He doesn’t get time to prepare himself for the way you launch yourself at him fall to your knees in front of him and wrap your arms around him so tightly

“I take it that’s a yes?” He himself is tearing up now and you lean back to look at him unable to form words simply nodding as tears stream down your face. He takes your hand and puts the band on it.

“Well need to take it back to the jewellers so they can put the diamond in” He starts to explain but you shut him up with a kiss that tells him all that you couldn’t say.

“Bucky Barnes I won the lottery with you” You say cupping his face and kissing him again.

“Doll you have no idea the way the universe answered my prayers by allowing me to find you.” He mutters out as he starts to properly ball and you both cried and kissed and hugged and started dreaming of the rest of your lives

reblogs appreciated if you liked it!