#apologies for grammar

[azures-grace]

Whelp, I'm lying awake at like, 3AM last night because I used my phone like an idiot and thought of making this.

Yesterday, I was thinking about the progression of Iriae's physical changes, mostly hair and weight, and how they were affected by the events of her story, so have this lil thing, idk.

It's also more Vigilant angst, but unrelated to Gore.

Her smile had finally returned.

It wasn't the first time he'd had to watch it come back. When they'd first met, she didn't smile much either. She'd always looked nervous then, as if she expected something horrible to jump from a corner and tear her to bits.

It wasn't a feeling Taliesin was unfamiliar with. Hell, that nagging anxiety of looming fear had plagued his childhood.

It had been a wonderful feeling when she'd given him her first real smile. It was like watching a dam burst.

Her first smile had been when she'd cut her hair. He had helped with that. He'd made sure it was all even, he'd helped her shave the parts of her head she'd wanted to shave. When all of it was finished, and those chunks of thick, red hair lay scattered on the ground, she'd looked in a mirror. Her hair didn't even reach her ear.

"Do you think it looks okay?" she had asked.

"I think it suits you," he'd replied. And it was true. She looked much more comfortable like that than she had with her hair long. The blood red locks had shown their hidden waviness now that most of the weight was gone.

She had turned to him, her whole face scrunched up by her first real smile.

After that, he had begun noticing changes not only in her mental health, but in her physical health as well.

She started eating better as time went on. Yes, she gained probably ten to fifteen pounds, but she got stronger too. She became a better fighter. She wasn't always tired. Her singing voice became brighter and happier too. Her hugs were nicer.

He wasn't sure if their other friends noticed the changes, but for some reason, they stood out to him.

Then, after a few weeks of seeming to be at the height of her life, it all came crashing down again.

She joined those Vigilants of Stendarr, and then killed that gods-forsaken dragon that had started this whole "Dragonborn" mess. Both had put her under tremendous stress.

Then, she'd vanished for three weeks. When she returned, it was all back to square one again. That nervous look in her eyes was accompanied by a certain emptiness. She had come back thinner. Malnourished, even.

It took a week to get her to talk about it. Every time he brought it up, she'd wave his question away. She seemed distant.

One evening, while he sat in bed, reading with one of her cats curled up in his lap, she had walked over and sat down in front of him. In her arms was another one of her three cats. She stumbled over her words for a moment before finally telling him what had happened.

At first, he hadn't believed it. He stared at her confused until she pulled the back of her shirt down enough for him to see the marking on her shoulder blade. Molag Bal's Mace. It looked like a brand, and he some found that it was one. The skin around the mark felt strangely cold and dead. He had recoiled in horror and she had frantically explained that she wasn't a vampire, and that she was the same person he'd known.

After that, it had been another few weeks before she had smiled again.

He hadn't been the one to make her smile, and for some strange reason, he felt jealous of the little Argonian girl that had.

Khash had been making little braids in the Dragonborn's blood red hair, and she must have said something funny, because that infectious laugh echoed throughout the whole house. She had insisted on cooking that night, and as she had handed Taliesin a bowl of apple cabbage stew, she had flashed him one of those honest-to-gods smiles.

After that, he noticed that, once again, she regained her dropped weight. She began going outside more and enjoying the sunlight. She started singing again, and picked back up the flute. Somehow, that little Argonian girl had broken her out of her Daedra-induced funk and brought her spark off life back. And for that, it seemed everyone was grateful.

And now, he sits by a bonfire behind her house, watching the flames dance into the sky. She walks over and sits down beside him. He looks over at her. The flames make her eyes dance. She lays her head in his lap and watches the blaze.

And he carefully begins to run his hands through her shoulder-length red hair.

[theo-notts-doll]

regulus is a short little man but when he and sirius both stop growing he is a singular inch taller than sirius and they'll fight about it for the rest of their lives that is my truth

[chocostrwberry]

I like to think that Marinette’s qualities come from her parents!! Like her kindness is because of Tom’s example, and her resourcefulness as Ladybug is from Sabine.

Also “Marinette” being her French name and “Jiayi” being her Chinese name I put in there along with Socqueline! She’s kind of an older sister figure to her and considers her a cousin bc their families are so close. She had moved to another city in France by the time Marinette starts junior year but they call often!

[brain-rot-central]

Sex Dreamz

Set pre-first intimacy scene, but after the bite scene so you know he's a vampire.

Rating: E Pairing: Fem!Reader x Astarion Summary: Astarion is trancing but ends up having a sex dream about you both during his trance. His tadpole, unbeknownst to him, begins signaling to you to join in on his dream. The next day, he has absolutely no idea you saw everything the night before, and tries playing it off like he still has the complete upper hand.

Enjoy reading! There's a fun twist in this. 👀

CW: dubcon - inappropriate use of tadpole, voyeurism, accidental voyeurism, not sure if this falls under the bdsm umbrella but I'll flag it, PiV, creampie

Sleep avoids you this night.

Your mind is racing, trying to process all that has happened over the last three weeks. You feel as though you've aged a lifetime in such a small span of time.

A soft rustling from your vampire companion jolts you from your thoughts. He chose to trance tonight, telling you earlier in the evening that he, too, had a lot to take in regarding their journey.

Yet, in the three weeks you've been together, you can't recall Astarion ever being so… animated in this state.

You're human, a soldier for the City Watch. You've little to no idea how trancing for elves works. To you, it's akin to sleeping. Astarion explained it once to you before, but it was in one ear, out the other by the time he reached the conclusion. You still remember the scowl on his face after you'd told him you didn't understand a word he just said.

He was really cute when he got flustered.

You watch him twitch again, his face now bunching up into a wince. Air is pushed from his nostrils in a quick huff as his head comes to rest toward one side. His face relaxes.

Is he… dreaming?

Can you even dream while trancing?

You're about to turn over to attempt some sleep when a warm caress begins to envelop your mind. The tadpole quivers within your skull.

It recognizes the intruder.

“Astarion?” your brain asks. You look over to your companion laying on the ground adjacent to you. You don't receive acknowledgement from him, though the warm embrace still remains.

His tadpole is asking to join yours.

Why would he want that, you wonder? Was he even aware? You close your eyes and lay back, allowing your mind to meld with his.

You're looking up at a young woman on top of you. She's grinding herself in your lap, cheeks stained red by the blush creeping up from her neck. Her lips are puffy, her jaw slack as soft moans fall from her throat with each rise and fall of her hips. Hands are gripping her thighs, fingertips sinking into the plush flesh, helping guide her rhythm.

It takes you a moment to realize that the hands on this woman's thighs are not your own. You look down to the apex of your thighs, astonished to find that this woman was spearing herself repeatedly over a cock, which was, in fact, not your own.

Finally, your eyes move up the woman's body. Her skin was pale and freckled, not unlike your own. Her thighs trailed up to widened hips, her hips narrowing a bit at the waist. Her breasts fall full and heavy from her chest; again, not much unlike your own.

It isn't until you see the woman's hair that it hits you.

This woman wasn't some random woman.

This woman was you.

Another realization washes over you: you're not looking from your own point of view.

You're looking at yourself from Astarion's point of view.

The cock between your thighs is Astarion's.

Astarion is having a sex dream… about you.

You feel everything through your tadpole connection. Your warm, tight, velvet heat pulling on his cock as you bounce in his lap. The weight of your hands splayed on his chest for balance. The sensation under his nails as they dig into the skin of your thighs.

You feel the rhythmic pull behind his pubic bone resonate within yourself. Your own mouth falls open simultaneously with his, his eyes rolling back into his skull behind hooded lids as his hips drive mindlessly into your core, chasing more of the sensation.

He looks down at the place you're joined and groans. You can see how much of a sopping mess he's made you, the length of him slick with your arousal. He places a thumb upon the swollen nub between your thighs, rubbing it in a circular pattern.

You watch through Astarion's eyes as your body convulses at this new sensation, feeling how your walls contract around him. He bends his legs at the knees and briefly places his hands on either side of your waist, tilting you back to rest against the tops of his thighs.

You throw your head back as his hips piston up into your core. He's gritting his teeth now, jaw tense as the coiling in his lower abdomen winds tighter. Your hands fly to the tops of his knees to hold yourself steady, a string of moans falling from your lips as the head of his cock catches repeatedly on that one spot that makes your vision turn white.

With one well angled thrust you're suddenly hanging over him, shouting out your pleasure as it rips up your spine. Astarion takes this opportunity to wrap his arms around your upper back, holding you tightly as he fucks you through your orgasm. His lips brush against the crook of your neck and he pants into your skin, leaning your head in a silent offering.

Astarion wastes little time. Shards of ice pierce the supple flesh of your neck as his canines rip through into your vein. You taste your blood on his tongue as it flows freely into his mouth. It's sweet, floral; a rush of heat shoots up Astarion's abdomen and the coil snaps. He's spilling over the edge, your walls still massaging his length with the remnants of your climax. He fucks his spend deeper into you with short snaps of his hips.

He unlatches from your neck, lapping up the small rivulets of blood that seep from your punctures, sighing in satisfaction as he finally lays his head back against the ground under him.

The connection suddenly breaks.

You're laying on your bedroll, as you had been prior, the embers of the fire before you flickering dully. You look over to the vampire laying off to your side. He looks… relieved. His face is relaxed, his breathing at an even tempo. Your eyes travel further down his form and catch the outline of… something, pushing against the front of his breeches.

A damp patch can be seen toward the head of the object; it takes your lust-clouded brain a minute to realize that object was indeed Astarion's cock, and that damp spot was his essence leaking from its tip, surely the result of his recent dream.

Yet, he remains entranced.

Did he really have no idea what just happened? Did he really not know his tadpole had revealed his thoughts?

The next day, while you're making your way to the Goblin Camp, Astarion pulls you briskly to the side. “Darling,” he begins, “I was just thinking about you!”

He continues on, telling you how he's “grown to like the whole package,” tells you he would like to share an evening with you. His voice is posh with a sort of sensuality to it, cool and completely composed.

It dawns on you that he's completely clueless as to what happened the night before. Completely ignorant of the fact that you know how he lusts for you.

You agree to his proposition, and he vows to meet you later tonight at someplace intimate after the others have fallen asleep. The tips of your fingers and toes tingle with anticipation of your fated encounter.

If it's to be anything like his dream, you simply cannot wait for the sun to set.

[azen13]

CW: Yandere Themes, Mentions of Blood

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Yandere!Childe who stares at you with the most loving, affectionate eyes imaginable. When he is home, he trails behind you from room to room, desperate for your attention and love, for sweet little kisses and quips. Yandere!Childe who loves combat and fighting and the thrill of a hunt, except when it comes to you. Oh, how he hates it when you try to run; he wishes he could kiss all your fears away. The idea of you in pain is unfathomable. Childe knows his hands are stained with blood, but whenever he returns home to you, for just a short period of time, he can be clean.

Yandere!Childe who wishes he didn't have to whisk you away to a safe and secluded cabin in Snezhnaya, but knows that if any of the Harbingers find you, it only gives them more leverage against him. He can't let that happen. Can't let them take you away from him. Every time he intertwines your hands with his, he swears you have magic in your bones, a piece of divinity tucked away in your soul. You heal the invisible wounds that mar his mind. Yandere!Childe who watches fondly as you drift off into sweet dreams one night, brushing away a strand of hair from your face. So fragile. So beautiful. So powerful. You're so dangerous that you have disarmed one of the Fatui Harbingers, tamed him beneath your unwilling touch. Yandere!Childe who wields his delusions like weapons. You don't hate him, you're simply adjusting. Soon enough the two of you will be dancing to invisible music on hardwood floors and cuddling on couches, protected by wood walls from the harsh chill of winter. And even if it takes time, he'll be sure to pierce your heart eventually with his love, and claim victory in this battle.

[lizaisdrawing]

I accidentally deleted an ask I had plan to answer 😭 so I’ll paraphrase it

“Where does Wallaces inspiration for Welcome Home come from?”

Wallace inspiration for welcome home came from a variety of things. I guess you could say it started in the beginning when he first got into art. He just loved taking objects, insects and people and creating his own little spin on them. During his college years (he was studying to be a teacher) while working in a daycare facility, it really helped him understand what children took a liking too, as well as few things they could learn lol which made him start contemplating about creating a show. He already had concept material based on his past works.

But ofc he didn’t do it all alone,It really helped that kids loved sitting around Wallace and create short stories with eachother that helped inspire some eps :) as well as his friends getting into silly shenanigans and the support of his grandparents. Last but not least, we can’t forget that whenever Wallace has some new inspiration for eps ideas, he calls up Sylvia! I shared a lil more info than required lol

[thesunisatangerine]

playing for keeps – chapter two

alexia putellas x barçakeeper!childhoodfriend!reader

warnings: coarse language, brief mentions of grief

(a/n in the tags) [chapters: one, two, three]

word count: 10.2k

[1]

A shiver ran down your spine in spite of the sun’s anger that bored down on you. 

You wiped your free hand on your jersey but sweat clung to your hand like glue, yet your fingers remained cold, even the ones on the hand your mother was holding. It didn’t help that your gut had coiled into a knot that you couldn’t loosen; you’d breathed deeply, you’d counted backwards from ten… and still, it remained there.

What was it about this that scared you so much? 

The fear sprung in you the moment you stepped foot out of your home, growing the more you got closer, and now that you and your mother were walking across the parking lot to the building, it threatened to claw its way up your throat. And that was something you really didn’t want to happen. 

You gripped your mother’s hand tighter. She gazed down at you with a soft look, giving your hand a slight, reassuring squeeze, and that was enough to ease that feeling a little bit. 

The door creaked long and loud when your mother pushed it open, reminding you of that old, unused shed by the garden at home that made the same sound when you entered it, and it reverberated against the walls. No one was inside except for an empty desk in front of a wall with chipped, white paint. Just beside that, there was a corridor lined with a few doors, some of which were opened. And at the end of it there was an opening that led to the sunlit grasses of the outside.

At the sound, the head of a woman popped out from one of the open doors. The woman came out, a water bottle in hand which she set on the desk, and she greeted you and your mother with a friendly smile. Even still, you took a step back and hid behind your mother.

“Hello! I’m sorry for making you wait! How can I help you?”

“No need to apologize, we just came in.” Your mother laughed as she waved a hand in the air. “My daughter is actually here for her first day of training with the club.”

“Oh, is she?” The woman gasped and clapped her hands together in delight. She beamed down at you and stooped low to offer her hand out, and then she cooed, “Hello, love, I’m Teresa.”

Heat rose to your cheeks as you took her hand and shook it, telling her your name in a whisper. Teresa smiled at you again before she straightened her back. 

“I’m so glad you got here just then. We don’t usually get people around this time so we tend to lock the front door, and I was about to head out back to bring the girls some water.” She explained to your mother and then she gazed back down at you again. “Are you excited to meet the girls?”

At your silence, your mother answered for you, “She is, it was all she could talk about. She’s just a bit shy.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that, love. The girls are just as lovely. Will you be joining us?”

“Are parents allowed to stay?” When Teresa nodded with a hum, your mother continued, “I see. Perhaps another time. I have somewhere to be.”

“We could schedule for another time.” Teresa nodded in understanding before she regarded you again, “Now, shall we meet everyone?”

Fear rose in you again and your eyes darted to your mother’s. There, you found an encouraging light that grounded you and without really intending to, you agreed with Teresa. Shortly after, your mother left but not before she told you, “Now, my little firecracker, you behave yourself. And remember, have fun and show them what you’re made of.” 

Something akin to fire lit up in your chest at your mother’s words, and its warmth spread all the way to your fingers and toes. It was a soothing calm similar to the one you’d get from a cup of warm milk and honey in winter. And when she pressed a goodbye kiss on your forehead, a sense of safety blanketed over you even long after she’d left. 

Teresa took your hand after she locked the front door, and occupied the other with holding the rack of water bottles, and she led you down the corridor. As you passed through, it became clear just how tiny the facility actually was but it held everything that you needed; Teresa had pointed and named the areas with a jut of her chin: the toilets were here, the nurse bay just beside it, and the lunch room was just across. 

“It isn’t much but it’s home for the club.” Teresa smiled but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. And her eyes were clouded with an emotion that made you feel a sudden urge to hug her. The emotion passed quickly and in the next moment, you found yourself surrounded by heat as you stepped down a threshold that led you outside. 

Squinting and putting your free hand over your eyes, the sight of the field came into focus. It was surrounded by a metal, wire fence, and its entrance opened up at the end of this path you were on to the middle of the nearest sideline. Through the fence, girls of seemingly different ages ran about in one half of the field, shouting and laughing as they passed balls to each other. And you found your nerves returning but it was soon replaced by giddy anticipation. 

You and Teresa were close enough now that your presence drew the attention of the girls. Upon catching the sight of you, they stopped and stared. And even from a good distance away, the weight of their eyes pressed on you and heat rose to your cheeks again.

A shout and a clap made the girls whip their heads–as well as your own–towards the direction of the sound. It came from a woman who said something to the girls you were too far to hear, but by the end of it, the girls resumed their training as if they never stopped. 

From the lack of attention, you sighed out a breath. 

Then the woman began her way to the sideline just as you and Teresa arrived there. Teresa set the water bottle rack down by her feet while your eyes wandered over from the walking woman to the other girls. For the most part, they all looked the same age and height, but a few towered over the rest with their great build and height, and that did nothing to quell your brewing fear. There was only one girl that was smaller than everyone else, younger too, whose height looked to be similar to yours. 

The girl was last in the line she queued for and as she stood there waiting for the ball, she had her head turned over her shoulders to look at you. She had short hair held back by a headband, and her shirt ballooned at the waistband of her shorts, which fell all the way down to her knees. Instead of fear, an urge to greet her rose in you, but as you raised your hand to wave at her, she whipped her head back to the front just in time to receive the next ball that was passed to her. 

“Ah! Our new addition to the family is finally here!”

The exclamation had you turning yours to the front, and you found the woman there with both hands planted on her hips. She towered over you–like most adults did but she was taller than most–and the angle made the fine lines around the corners of her eyes and lips look deeper from the harsh sunlight. Her blue eyes were light, inviting and warm, and they held a calming force that reminded you of your mother’s. When she stuck out her hand, you noted the way her skin clung to the surface of her flesh, almost translucent in the sun, but you found yourself unafraid to shake it immediately.

“Welcome to Sabadell Girls’ Football. My name is Catalina but you may call me Madam Cata. Remind me again, how old are you, little one?”

“I just turned eight.” You said, and you nearly forgot to add, “Madam.”

Madam Cata’s smile brightened and, to your surprise, she let out a small laugh. At her amusement, you found yourself smiling, too.

“Very young, indeed. Well then, I’ll take you from Teresa to meet the rest of the girls.”

Your heart jumped at the thought and you turned to Teresa. She must've seen a hint of your apprehension because she gave you a soft, encouraging smile and said, “You’ll be just fine. You’ll see.”

Somehow, you believed her. So you nodded and thanked her, and with another smile and a wave of her hand, she left you with Madam Cata who began to lead you away with a gentle hand against your back.

After you’d crossed the small distance from the sideline to the middle of the field, Madam Cata called out to the girls. They gathered and now that they were closer, your shoulders curled inwards under the weight of their stares, and you kept your eyes down at the red laces of your boots, which your cheeks and ears probably resembled now as they heated from the attention. 

You felt the weight of Madam Cata’s hand on your shoulder. 

She was smiling at you and then she said softly, “Don’t be afraid, little one. These are your friends and sisters. Go on. Tell them your name.”

Finally, you looked at the girls. And as if drawn by a force, your attention immediately locked on that girl, and for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, a sense of calm washed over you. 

The girl stared at you like the others did, but it was different. It wasn’t a look you found to be negative, more curious and attentive. Her head was tilted slightly to the side as if the change in angle would help her figure you out. She wasn’t quite smiling or frowning; she impressed you with a leveled attitude, an expression you typically saw on people who were significantly older than you, and you were surprised to see such a face worn by someone as young as the both of you. 

Her eyes traced an invisible path along your face all the way down to your boots. She was sizing you up, you knew this. You’d played enough games at recess and after school to know how kids scrutinized each other for weaknesses, but you felt it wasn’t the same with this girl. Her gaze was more appraising than critical, as if she was imagining how you would affect the team. You could almost see her calculations playing like a movie above her head and you barely stopped yourself from giggling at the image. 

She must’ve seen your amusement because she straightened her head in attention, and her brows knitted to a slight frown. The change should’ve given you grief but it only made you all the more interested to get to know her for reasons you couldn’t quite understand. There was just something about this girl… something that you wanted to discover. And so, right there and then, you decided that you were going to befriend her. 

Feeling a bit better, you finally introduced yourself with a wave to the others before you locked your gaze on the girl again.

The girl’s frown deepened. 

Your smile widened. 

“Now, girls, introduce yourselves.” Said Madam Cata. 

And so they did. 

A couple of the older girls gave you a smirk that reminded you of the older cousins you’d see at family gatherings, or the boys at school who thought you were easy picking whenever you played with them. The rest looked friendly and introduced themselves with a pleasant smile and a wave.

It was the girl’s turn now.

“Hi. I’m Alexia and I play as a midfielder.”

Alexia. Somehow, the name suited her just right, like she was born to be one. The fact that she was the only one who stated their position wasn’t lost to you. It was an assertion–a claim–and this again should’ve intimidated you but it only made you smile. 

Now that introductions were done, the girls dispersed as per Madam Cata’s instructions. 

“Alexia. Come here, my child.” Madam Cata called out which stopped Alexia from running away with the rest. She froze midstep, her eyes darting to you then back to Madam Cata, before she reluctantly turned and shuffled until she was beside the woman. 

“Seeing as the both of you are the closest in age, Alexia, I’d like you to make her feel welcomed.” Madam Cata began, placing a hand on Alexia’s shoulder, and then she continued, “You two are the youngest in the club and I have high hopes that you two will become friends.” 

Madam Cata smiled at you, then to Alexia. “What do you say, Alexia?”

Alexia said nothing and only stared at you. You stood your ground and stared back, waiting for Alexia’s move. In this moment, doubt crept in and your resolve wavered. Were you mistaken? Did she really not like you? She hasn’t even given you the chance, yet… You thought in disappointment. 

And then Alexia, instead of replying to Madam Cata, stuck out her open hand to you. “Let’s go?”

You couldn’t help it. You grinned.

Giving Madam Cata one last look, you took Alexia’s hand. It was sweaty and warm, and her grip was gentle. And then she was pulling you forward, easing you both in a run. And as you took off hand-in-hand across the yellowing grass of the field, Alexia turned her head to you and a tentative smile crinkled the corner of her lips, and you found the rest of your worries melting away.

You squeezed her hand, smiling.

And, this was the best part:

She squeezed your hand back. 

[2]

By the end of the day, Alexia’d introduced you to everyone, and all the other girls had warmed up to you, including the ones who’d intimidated you at first. Alexia may be young, but you saw how the other girls respected her. Despite this, Alexia remained sincere and kind, and this fact made your admiration for her grow

Training-wise, Madam Cata separated you from the rest at first, testing your stamina and evaluating your technical skills before she eventually let you join in on the 7-a-side matches that ended today’s training. You were slightly disappointed that you didn’t end up on the same team as Alexia, but it was fun defending against her. To your surprise, it didn’t even bother you that your team lost. Maybe it was because you got to witness Alexia shoot the winning goal, but of course you kept that information to yourself. It was late afternoon when you finished, and all the other girls had been taken home by their parents, except for you two.

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait inside, girls?” Miss Teresa called out from the front door. 

Alexia shook her head to answer for the both of you. 

“We’re fine here, thank you.”

“Alright. Just stay in sight, okay?” 

The both of you called out in agreement and finally satisfied, Miss Teresa returned back to her desk. There were two large trees that flanked the path towards the front door, and under their shade were benches built to wrap around their bases. Under one of those trees, you and Alexia waited for your parents to pick you up. 

You kicked your feet in the air as they hung from the bench, relishing the way the cool breeze soothed the heat around the new bruise you got on your shin. 

“The bruise is getting bigger.” Alexia muttered. She’d taken off her headband and you noticed how short her hair actually was; only the front had enough length to fall over her face, parting in the middle to reveal her eyes. Apples were high in her cheeks and the remaining sunlight that filtered through the leaves played on her skin, and made her hazel eyes look lighter, almost green. She twisted her fingers as her lips curled into a regretful pout. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to kick you.”

“Hey, come on, it was a game. It’s fine.” When the pout didn’t leave her face, you knocked your knee against hers and added, “It looks kinda cool, don’t you think?”

At that, an amused smile replaced Alexia’s pout. “Only you would think a bruise looks cool.”

“I’m different like that.” 

“Sure, you are.”

“I am. Why else are you talking to me?”

Alexia rolled her eyes and then she laughed. 

“What time are you getting picked up?” 

You looked at your watch.

 “My mom should be here any minute now. What about yours?” 

“Soon as well,” Alexia answered after she peeked at your watch. And then, she asked, “Do you live nearby?”

“No, I live in Mollet.” 

Alexia squeaked and at the sound, you looked at her and found her eyes were delightfully wide with surprise. “You do? I do, too!”

“Really?” You gasped, mirroring her in your excitement. Elation filled you at the prospect of Alexia living so close. Imagine the sleepovers, the after school football games! “Where do you live? What school do you go to?”

But when Alexia answered you and you recognised that the places she named were on the other side of town, you pouted in disappointment. When Alexia asked you what your face was about, you told her where you lived and your school, and then Alexia started pouting, too.

“I wish we lived closer. We could play football after school!” 

“Yeah! And you could stay over! Or maybe I could?” Alexia whined. “Why do you have to live on the other side of town?” 

“If I could drive a car, I would come over all the time!” You imitated holding a steering wheel, and you blew air through your lips, imitating an engine. 

Alexia slapped your arm, laughing. “Are you speeding? That’s illegal! If you drive like that, I’ll never get in the same car as you!” 

“Fine,” you sighed dramatically. “I won’t speed just for you.” 

“That’s comforting.” Alexia quipped dryly. “No, but I’m serious. I’ll ask my parents if I could stay the night some time. You should do the same!”

“I will. My parents will probably say yes as long as your parents are alright with it.” 

The sound of gravel being disturbed drew both of your attention. A car and a truck parked in the space in front of you, and you recognised the car to be your mom’s. 

“My mom’s here. Is your–”

“Papá!”

Alexia jumped out of her seat and ran towards the other car, a truck, whose door opened to reveal a man, Alexia’s father. He was tall, like really tall, towering over the truck next to him. He had long, loose gray pants on that stretched all the way up to his chest; the upper part reminded you of a bib, and the white shirt beneath was covered with what you supposed to be car oil—your own father had come into the house with the strange scent and feel of it enough times for you to know the look of it from a distance. There was some of it on his cheeks as well, but Alexia didn’t seem to be bothered by it, for she immediately jumped into his arms, and he, with a cheerful laugh, lifted his daughter up with a small grunt.

You smiled at the sight. 

Seeing as Alexia’d gone to her father, you went ahead and did the same, jumping off the bench to meet your mother as she got out of her own car. 

“How was your day, my little firecracker?” Your mother asked after she’d greeted you with a kiss on your cheek, running her hands over your forehead and temple to wipe away the remaining sweat there.

“It was really good, Mamá! I made a friend! She’s over there. Look!” 

In your excitement, you tugged on your mother’s hand and pointed her over to where Alexia and her father were, only to find Alexia doing the same with her father.

Your mother laughed. “I see you’re very much alike, the two of you.”

And then, your mother waved at Alexia’s father, who waved back, before she began to walk over where they were, and you trailed behind her. She was probably going to talk to Alexia’s father, and you were excited to spend just a little more time with Alexia.

Alexia shoved her bag inside the truck before she ran to you. When she stopped right beside you and looped her arm around yours, you told her, “Your father’s so tall.” 

“He is, isn’t he?” Alexia beamed at you, pride in her voice as she looked at her father. “Is your father tall?”

“Yes, but not as tall as your dad.” And then a thought struck you as you looked back at Alexia. There was Alexia’s father, and here was Alexia. “You know, you look like your father.”

“Yeah, I know. People say it all the time.”

“And you don’t get sick of it?”

She looked at you with a confused frown. “No, why would I be?” 

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “I’m not really sure why I asked that.” 

Alexia just smiled at you and asked, lowering her voice with mischief.  “What do you think they’re talking about?” 

She’d begun to shuffle forward, taking you along with her because of your linked arms, and now you could hear their conversation.

“–you and your family come over for dinner. I’d prepared so much tonight in celebration of my daughter’s entry to the club. I don’t think we could handle all the food at all.” Your mother laughed, and then she added, “We could also discuss the arrangements then.”

You turned to Alexia with wide eyes and met her gaze, which brimmed with excitement. Turning back to Alexia’s father, you willed him to say yes.

Alexia’s father scratched the back of his head, his other hand on his hip. “We’d love to come over. That is, if you don’t mind having a five-year-old over, of course.”

“No, we don’t mind at all! Please, do come over.”

“Okay, then I’ll tell my wife. What time should we head over?” 

“Nine should be fine.”

Alexia’s father nodded, and that was that.

You couldn’t hold your excitement any longer. You spun to face Alexia, grabbed her hands and both of you squealed. Laughter came from the direction of your parents, but you paid them no mind because all you could think about was that Alexia was coming over for dinner. 

“All right. That’s quite enough girls. Say goodbye now.” Alexia’s father said with a light voice. “You’ll see each other again later.”

Alexia nodded, and then soon she was hugging you. “Bye, I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Alexia.” You said, lifting your chin off her shoulder before you let her go and took your place at your mother’s side.

“Alright, Jaume, it was nice meeting you.”

Jaume, so that was Alexia’s father’s name. Jaume waved his goodbye to the both of you with a smile on his face, and then he and Alexia drove away.

On the way home, up until Alexia and her family got to your home, you were practically buzzing with excitement. You ran up to your room to bathe, changed, ran back down, and even then the clock’s hand was still not pointing to nine. 

“Honey, you peeking out through the window won’t make them get here any faster.”

A sigh escaped your lips, and pushing yourself off the window sill with a huff, you whined. “When are they getting here?”

Your mother laughed at that. “It’s only ten past eight, my love. Go to your father and help him. Maybe time will pass quicker that way, no?” 

Dragging your feet with another sigh, you made your way to the kitchen. Your father had his back turned to you when you entered through the archway as he busied himself on the kitchen counter. He stuck his hand into the bag of flour in front of him, and he spread it all over the counter, which caused a plume of white to rise in the air.

“Can I help?” You asked, shuffling closer so that you were beside him. There was flour everywhere on his side of the counter, while two empty baking trays were lined up in front of you. “What are you making, Papá?”

“This, my love, is pan de payés.” He lifted the tea towel in front of him to reveal four domes of raw dough, their surfaces taut with tension. He looked at them, and with a proud nod, he said, “Go wash your hands and help me with them.”

You did, and as you dried your hands, you asked, “Why are you making them? Don’t we have enough food for tonight?” 

“Why, they’re for our friends, of course. You wouldn’t want Alexia to leave here empty-handed, would you now, my love?”

Heat rose to your cheeks as you shook your head.

Your father smiled down at you with warmth. “Of course you wouldn’t. Now here, I’ll prepare this first one; you watch, and I’ll let you do the rest. How does that sound?” 

You nodded, and you watched. He carefully placed a dome of dough in the centre of the floured space, then took another pinch of flour and sprinkled it over the dough, before lightly running his hands over the surface to spread the flour evenly. He took out his bread lame and ran the blade over the surface of the dough, creating four gashes that intersected to form a diamond, and then he placed the dome on one side of a baking tray. 

You did as he did, albeit slower, and with the patient guidance of your father. After your father put the trays in the oven, the heat of it filled the space with warmth and light. As the two of you looked on at your work, your father began, “Remember this, my love. Food is an extension of our feelings and identities. It fills us, it sustains us, and it connects us. It makes us remember. When you eat your mother’s cooking, what do you feel? What do you think about?”

You didn’t even need to think; you answered immediately. “Warm. And I think about home, Mamá, and you.”

Your father smiled. “Good. Now, what do you think Alexia would think about if, say, she ate a piece of this bread for breakfast tomorrow?”

“Us?”

He hummed, and then a small laugh escaped his lips. He bent down slightly so he could tap your nose with his finger. “It’s going to be you, my love. How nice it is to be thought of, especially by a new friend, hmm?” 

You giggled, but a familiar warmth surged through you at the thought.

A knock resonated through the house, and you gasped, looking at your father in excitement.

“Ah, our friends are here. Go on, now.” Your father tilted his head in the direction of the front door, a half-smile on his lips. You gave him a hug, and you sprinted towards the door, only slowing down when a “No running, please!” resounded from the kitchen. 

“Oh, she’s so cute!” You heard your mother’s coo, and when you turned the corner, you saw her fussing over a little girl balanced on her father’s hip, while Alexia’s mother laughed warmly at your mother’s attention, and finally, you spotted Alexia looking up at her sister being pampered with a smile curling her lips.

You walked over to them.

“Ah! My daughter’s finally here.” Your mother placed a gentle hand behind your back. 

“Hello.” You greeted Alexia shyly, eyes fleeting from Alexia’s parents to her sister, then to Alexia herself, who was smiling at you. You stepped up to them to shake their hands, introducing yourself to them, and they did the same to you. You learned that Alexia’s mother was named Eli, and her little sister was named Alba. You offered your hand to Alexia as well, with a playful smile. Alexia caught on, and she giggled before throwing her arms around you.

“Isn’t she a dear? Oh, they seem so close already!” You heard Eli say it with a clap of her hands.

“Believe me, Alexia was all she could talk about the whole night!” 

Your cheeks heated when Alexia laughed against your ear at what your mother said, but in the end, you decided you didn’t quite mind. 

“Hello, welcome to our home.” Your father finally stepped out of the kitchen. He walked up to Jaume, shook his hand, and stooped down to press his right cheek against Eli’s. He cooed at Alba the same way your mother did, and he gave Alexia a wave. “You all must be hungry; please come join us in the dining area.” 

Once the lot of you moved to the kitchen, the evening progressed quite quickly, as it usually did when you were having a good time. Your parents got to know each other after they initially took turns talking about you and Alexia. They laughed and got lost in their conversations, while you and Alexia busied yourselves with Alba, helping her with her food, and who, after finally warming up to you, revealed herself to be a bundle of energy. 

At one point, the conversation moved to the living room, and this was when you and Alexia snuck out to the backyard. Alba’d fallen asleep not long after dinner, and she was safely pressed against Eli when the both of you took off. You’d lead Alexia to your favourite spot; it was a swing that hung from a branch of a sturdy tree, and this was how you found yourself pushing Alexia gently as she sat on it, her hands around the ropes of the swing.

“Why do you play football?” Alexia asked, breaking the silence. 

“How do you mean?”

“Like, are you only playing it for fun? Or, are you serious about it?”

You hummed as you pushed her. “I’m not sure yet. But, sometimes, when I’m in school, I find myself daydreaming about it.”

“That’s the same with me. It’s all I can think about. I dream about it, too.” 

“You’re serious about it.” It wasn’t even a question; you could hear it clearly in her voice. But she turned her head, and the look she gave you all but confirmed it. 

“I am,” she breathed out. “I really am.” 

You gave her another push. “Where do you want to end up?”

“Barça.” Her answer came quickly, like she’d thought it all through. And then she added, “One day, I’ll play for them.”

The conviction in her voice was enough to electrify you with a surge of inspiration, and as you pushed her on the swing, you had no difficulty believing that it would come true. Like Alexia said, it was only a matter of time.

One day.

You smiled, even though you knew she couldn’t see it. 

“I can see it, Alexia. And I know you’ll look great in scarlet and blue.”

[3]

“Yes, Mamá, I got it. Actually, can you text me the list?” 

“Ah, daughter of mine, have you taken so many balls to the head that you can’t even remember two things?” At your mother’s irritated response, a laugh bubbled from your throat.

“Actually, yes, Mamá. Probably a thousand by now. And I was joking, come on.” You waved back at a woman who thanked you as she crossed the pedestrian lane, and then you continued driving. As you turned the corner, you asked, “Why do you need so many drinks anyway? Are you having a party? You know I can’t drink during the season, right?”

“My girl, you have too many questions. Just make sure you come home in time, okay?”

“Yes, Mamá.”

“Okay, I’ll leave you alone. Have fun at training and give Alexia a kiss for me.”

The sentence made you tense, and you had to will your hands to loosen their grip on the steering wheel. You loved your mother, but there was no way in hell you would do that, even for her. 

You swallowed, hoping your apprehension wouldn’t show through your voice. “Okay. I’m going to go now. I love you. Tell Papá I love him, too. And Nona.” 

“I will. They’re very excited to see you. And I love you, too, my little firecracker.” 

Just as you hung up the phone, you turned the corner and found the parking lot of the Ciutat Esportiva Joan Gamper. You parked your car and took out your gym bag. The sun was high enough to blind you, so you put a hand over your eyes, and you saw the tall building that sported Barça’s logo. And as if you were greeting an old friend, you whispered, “It’s good to see you again.”

“Hello!” 

A cheerful voice addressed you from behind. You turned back, and you saw a woman of slight build, shorter than you, with short brown hair that curled just behind her ear. Some locks fell on her temple and covered her left eye, and the sun made her hair look golden. She was wearing loose, off-grey high-rise pants and a black long-sleeved turtleneck that accentuated the curve of her body.

She was beautiful.

And she was also Tori Favaro, the top-scoring forward for Roma last season and the fourth candidate for last year’s Ballon d'Or. Also, the other half of Barcelona’s new transfers this season.

Of course, you knew about her.

“Hey, Tori,” you said with a smile. 

She was now in front of you, and she grinned, which revealed the dimple in her left cheek. “I didn’t think you’d remember me!”

“How could I forget? The only other time I met you, you gave me a hard time!”

“You’re telling me! We couldn’t get past you at all! The fact that the only goal we got that day was from our own goal is still a bit embarrassing.” She laughed, followed by a sigh–wistful. The two of you walked towards the entrance of the Gamper. “I can’t believe that was more than ten years ago.”

At her wistfulness, you couldn’t help but recall the memory as well: FIFA U17’s World Cup, when Spain and Brazil clashed during the knockout stages. Tori was relentless in her attack, and you barely saved the balls that managed to get past your defenders. Even then, you—and everyone who had eyes—saw her potential, and now look how far she’d come; she was very well on track to getting a Ballon d'Or, and she was never more in her prime than now. 

“Is there any chance of you representing your country again now that you’re back in Barça?” 

“I’m not sure. I’ll just make my decision when they call me up the next time.” You shrugged, hefting your gym bag over your shoulder. The sudden urge to change the topic rose in you, so you asked quickly, “How are you finding Barcelona so far?”

Thankfully, Tori took the bait, and you happily listened to what she had to say about your city as the both of you walked through the lit, pristine corridors of Gamper, which, as you noted in passing, were strangely barren, as you reacted every now and again to whatever Tori said, even recommending her places worth going to. 

As Tori pushed the door to the locker room, a frown crossed her face, and she looked behind her. “Where is everyone?”

“I don’t–”

“Welcome to Barça!” Came the unified greeting and the cheers that suddenly erupted. 

A sign that read the same thing with the letters in alternating scarlet and blue, accented by some yellow hearts, was held between Marta and Alexia while the others stood in a semi-circle, clapping and hooting. A cake was on the centre table, and just behind it were piles of folded fabric, which you recognised to be yours and Tori’s set of training kits. Beside you, Tori wore the same expression on your face: mouth agape, eyes wide in pleasant surprise.

The semi-circle dispersed, and the next thing you knew, you were being hugged, patted on the back, and chatter filled the room.

“Look who’s back! Barça’s prodigal daughter finally returned home!” Mapi shouted, arms thrown up in the air, before she grabbed you by your shoulder to pull you into her.

“Don’t act like you missed me, asshole.” You laughed and punched her arm when she pulled away.

Mapi cradled her arm like you’d just injured her, looking at you with a look of exaggerated pain. She gasped, “Violence, already? Is that how you treat a teammate? I won’t stand for this. Alexia! Captain!” 

At that, you sidestepped around Mapi, but not after sticking your tongue out at her, as you navigated through your other teammates who welcomed you. You managed to get to the edge of the crowd, just at the end of the locker room, and that was when you saw Alexia with Tori. You were close enough to hear snippets of their conversation.

“–expect me to go easy on you.” Alexia said with a laugh, hands on her hips.

“Of course. Just because you’re my–”

An arm wrapped around your shoulder and a presence pressed up to your side. 

“So, did you get me Christen’s signature?” Patri’s voice filtered through your ear. 

You hissed through your teeth, your voice gravely low. “You know, I did ask her. She just doesn’t want to give it to you, dude.” 

Patri looked at you incredulously. “Wait. What do you mean?” 

“I’m not sure.” You shrugged, placing your gym bag on the nearby bench. “Did you say something to her the last time you saw each other?”

“Dude, the last time I saw her was what?” Patri frowned and blew air through her lips. “During the SheBelieves Cup? What–”

Grinning, you pulled something out of your bag and revealed it to her. Delight filled you upon seeing Patri’s eyes widen in recognition, her gaze fleeting between your face and down to the jersey. 

“Oh, you cheeky bastard!” She took the jersey from you, held it up in front of her to appreciate the signature down in the middle, and she embraced you with a force that made you grunt out a laugh. “Thank you!” 

A voice broke the two of you apart.

“Easy there, Patri. Don’t break any of her bones, please. She hasn’t even begun playing yet.” 

It was Alexia. 

Your heart lurched.

Patri looked at you, then at Alexia, and she put her hands up in surrender. Patri gave you one last knowing look—something that you tried hard not to think about too much—before she gave a two-finger salute to her captain, and off she went, leaving you alone with Alexia. 

“Hey,” Alexia greeted you and stepped into your space, arms wrapping around your shoulders. You tensed for a moment before you remembered to relax, snaking your own arms around her chest. “Now, I’m a bit jealous. Where’s my present?”

“I think I happened to spy it on your wrist, or am I just going blind?” You hummed. When you pulled away, you took her left hand and lifted it up. “Oh, look! There it is!”

Alexia threw her head back in laughter. 

The sight, like always, made you feel warm.

“So, I suppose you like it?” You couldn’t help it; shyness bled into your tone, and you only hoped that Alexia didn’t hear it.

“I love it. Thank you. It suits me, doesn’t it?” 

And though the silver band of the watch glinted around her wrist as it caught the light when she lifted her wrist to the level of your eye, you appreciated the way the golden flecks in her eyes shone despite the blue tint from the fluorescent lighting. 

“I’m glad you like it.” You said barely above a whisper, and you berated yourself at the softness that lingered there, but the way Alexia’s eyes became unfocused and lidded, as if she’d thought of a memory, made the slipup almost worth it.

Almost.

“Alright, good morning, everyone!” Jona’s voice pierced through the chatter, and everyone stilled, apt with attention, before sitting down on the bench. Alexia, Irene, and Marta remained standing but kept mostly to the sides. He, and two other assistant coaches, stepped into the room with their clipboards and folders in hand.

You shared a look with Tori. She snuck you a thumbs up, and you pressed your lips together, fighting a grin. 

“First of all, welcome to our new transfers.” A round of applause went around. Jona faced Tori, and he continued, “Tori, thank you for joining us. I hope you’ve settled yourself in the city, and we really look forward to playing with you.”

“I’ll do my very best to help our club. Visca Barça!” At the latter, hoots and claps erupted.

Jona laughed, but when he motioned for everyone to calm back down, the locker room grew silent again.

“And of course, this woman needs no introduction. Barça’s very own Wall has returned.”

Heat rose to your cheeks as cheers erupted once again. And it didn’t help that Alexia was looking at you with something akin to pride while clapping her hands, a soft smile on her lips.

“It’s great to be back, Jona. And like Tori, I’ll do my best to keep our club moving forward.” You caught Alexia’s eyes. “It is home, after all.” 

“It is home, indeed. Well, put your training kits on and meet us down at the fields. The rest of you, please head on over to Pitch 9.” 

Jona and the other coaches filed out. Alexia followed along with the rest, but not before giving you another look. You stared long after she’d gone, not knowing Patri remained in the changing room and saw the whole until you found her with a look of disapproval clear on her face.

She sighed, shook her head as she got up, and left.

Tori was there, too, and her eyes flicked between the door and you, then to the door again, and you could almost see the questions forming in her mind. You quickly took your training kits and entered one of the changing cubicles to spare yourself from any more confrontations. 

[4]

Training went relatively well. For the most part, anyway.

You were with the team for the warm-ups before you were separated—along with the other goalkeepers—for technical training, and then Jona called all of you back for some 5-side matches. 

At one point, your team went against Tori and Alexia’s team. They’d linked up, the two of them, keeping their touches to two at most. They were close now, and Jana was just barely holding Alexia at bay. You spotted Tori’s signal from the corner of your eye, but you needed Alexia to commit to a pass. You kept your weight on your toes. With a body feint to the left, tapping the ball to the right with her outer foot, and a quick cutback to the left, Jana was defeated, and Alexia kicked the ball.

Now!

You sprinted forward to the left, where you knew Tori was, and you leaped. The ball stuck to your gloves mid-air.

“Holy shit!” It came from a surprised Tori. 

You would’ve laughed, but you spotted an unmarked Caro who was making a run for it. You wound your shoulder back right after you landed on your feet and released the ball before Tori and Alexia could even think to get back. 

It sailed right on over to Caro, and she brought it down with her chest. Ingrid was on Caro all at once, but Esmee surged forward to follow a diagonal path from behind Caro, asking for the ball, and it only took one moment’s hesitation from Ingrid for Caro to make just enough space for her to shoot.

The ball went past the nearest post, and you pumped your hand in the air. When Caro saw you with her arm around Esmee, she gave you a thumbs up, and you returned the gesture with a clap.

It was nearing midday when all of you’d cooled down and headed to the gym. On the way inside, Tori ran up to you. 

“You nearly took off my head there.” She said, just slightly out of breath as she patted your back.

“I was going to tell you, ‘Heads up!’, but that would’ve ruined the surprise now, right?”

“Remind me not to play opposite you again.” She joked. “I forgot how aggressive you play. And I think you’ve only gotten worse!”

“It comes with the title.” You said, winking at her.

“Does it now?” She said it dryly, squinting at you. And then the both of you parted ways for your respective workouts.

It was going relatively well, but at one point, your attention moved to Alexia without meaning to. Alexia stood watch over Tori, who was lying down on the bench and lifting, attentive, and they conversed with a familiarity that transcended more than that of acquaintances. And you knew, then, that they’d probably hung out outside of sporting functions.

For some reason, the sight made you ache. 

Then a sigh came from somewhere beside you. You turned and found Patri there with her levelled expression, but her eyes were knowing with the way they looked at you. She tilted her head and patted your back before making her way to the exit. You hesitated for a moment, but, as if it had its own volition, your body stood up and followed her out to the sunlit pitch. 

Patri was further away now; she hadn’t stopped walking, and you had to jog to catch up with her. It took a moment, but you finally matched her stride, and without even looking at you, Patri began, “How are you?”

You stuck your hands into the pockets of your shorts. “Fine.”

Patri hummed, obviously unconvinced. She took a breath and let it out loudly through her teeth. Your shoulders locked at the sound, and you prepared yourself for the weight of whatever she was about to say. 

“I saw you looking at her,” Patri said, straight to the heart of the matter, and your body coiled tighter with tension. “You went through all that trouble. Yet, you’re back here again and still not over her. In fact, I think you’re—” Patri sent you a look, though this one fleeted so quickly that you weren’t able to decipher it. She blinked, returning her gaze forward. “Never mind.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course, it fucking does!” Patri exclaimed. “You were doing better! And then you ghosted me for months. The last time we talked, everything was going well with—"

“Don’t.” The word came out firm—a warning. “Patri, please, I don’t want to talk about it.”

Patri’s voice softened. “So... something did happen.”

“Patri. Drop it.”

Patri stopped walking just several metres away from the gym tent; you’d finished a lap around the pitch. She frowned at you, and you were ready to fight back if she insisted on talking about it, but she shook her head, and the frown melted away, and in its place was a look of pity.

“Okay. I hope you know what you’re doing. Just ready yourself.”

A pause and a hesitant look flashed through her face. But Patri was a good friend because she was direct, almost callous in the way she called everything as it was, and it was something you’d always liked and admired about her. Now it was no different because she said, “I think you know yourself already, but I just thought I’d let you know. Alexia has a girlfriend.” 

Despite yourself, your heart dropped. And you ached.

Oh.

Patri must’ve seen something on your face because that pitying look deepened with a hint of sympathy. She patted your back gently before she headed back in. You breathed deep, and it came out shaky, but you steeled yourself as you parted the entrance to the gym. 

Alexia’s laughter filled the air, drawing your attention immediately. And there she was in the same spot, holding onto Tori’s shoulder for support, bent over in her amusement, while Tori looked at her with a dimpled smile. 

You turned away.

[5]

A grunt escaped your lips as you got out of the car, your muscles bearing a pleasant soreness. You turned your headlights off and parked in front of your parents’ house. It was later than you’d expected, but the additional technical session and the meeting with Jona caused you to be one of the last ones out of the Gamper. 

With the cake and drinks you promised your mother to get in hand, you knocked on the door and waited. There was a lone light that filtered from the living room, which you found a bit odd, but tiredness won out, and you decided to pay it no mind. Maybe your parents were just relaxing on the couch. 

No one answered. 

Frowning, you placed the drinks on the porch step, and you balanced the cake on one hand as you opened the door with your key. 

You let yourself in, and the hallway was dark.

“Mamá? Papá? Where–”

The lights in the hallway and the kitchen flashed on in quick succession, nearly blinding you.

“Surprise!” The resonant cheer came, and the cake box jumped in your hand, nearly slipping. 

You found your mother’s face first, and you laughed, “Oh my god!” 

“Welcome home, my love!” Your mother embraced you, and you barely had enough time to angle the cake away and put the box of drinks down so she could do it properly. You leaned down, and she placed a kiss on your cheek, and then the other. 

“Hello, Mamá.” You muttered, closing your eyes, soaking in her presence and the peace that came with it. Oh, how you missed her. Another pair of arms wrapped around you; it was your father’s, and suddenly heat rose to your eyes at the warmth that seemed to blanket over you, both inside and out. 

“Let me grab that for you, my love.” Your father said, taking the cake box from your hand, but not before kissing your temple as a greeting. 

When you pulled away, you saw it wasn’t just your parents there. There were Eli, Alba, and Alexia, with little Nona in her arms. Nona’s white coat was a stark contrast to the dark shirt that Alexia wore. There was a tender smile on her lips, her eyes almost wistful as she caught your gaze. And could you really blame your heart if it ached beneath the weight of her gaze?

“Oh, sweetie, have you grown taller?” Eli asked as she stepped into you, hugging and kissing your cheeks like your mother did. 

“I’m not sure about that, Eli.” You giggled into her ear. “How are you?”

“Growing grey hair, love. You went away, and I had no one else to keep Alexia in line. Alba doesn’t help; in fact, she encourages her sister’s wiles, and Alexia does the same. Partners in crime, these two!” 

Alba’s laughter resonated in your ear when you hugged her next, and you chuckled at the exasperation in Eli’s voice. Alba retorted, “Má, how else could we keep you on your toes?” 

“I’d very much not want to be kept on my toes. Thank you very much.” 

“Eli, I’m sure Alexia couldn’t be that bad. She’s always been a good girl.” At that, you caught Alexia’s gaze with a smirk. Her eyes twinkled with recognition, probably remembering what the both of you got up to behind your parents’ backs. She shook her head slightly, mouthing, ‘You’re an asshole.’

You gave her another smirk before you added lightly, "Alba, on the other hand...”

You didn’t even finish the sentence before you got a well-deserved punch to the arm from Alba herself—a punch you knew would surely form a bruise. Cradling your sore arm, you yelped, looking at Alexia for help.

“Alba, please don’t injure our new goalkeeper. We need her.” Alexia said calmly, and you looked at Alba triumphantly. Alba opened her mouth to protest, it seemed, but Alexia cut her off. “There’s no need for that. I’ll just ask Jona to make her do some extra laps during warm-ups in our next training session.”

“Yeah, that’s right—hey!” Realising what she said, you scoffed while Alba threw her head back, laughing. Alexia’s lips were curled up in a satisfied smirk, looking much like someone who’d gotten the last word. 

“Ha! That’s what you get—” 

Eli cut Alba off. “That’s enough, you three. I swear, when you’re together, you act like you’re all still ten!” 

“It’s a bit endearing, though, isn’t it, Eli?” Your mother laughed, putting a placating hand on Eli’s shoulder. “But Eli is right. We should take this all to the dining table, no? The food is about to grow cold.”

[6]

In the two years you lived in the States, you spent most evenings alone, and the food you’d cooked from the recipes you took with you never tasted like home. It’d been so long, you nearly forgot how filling food should be—both in mind, body, and spirit. But now, in the presence of your family, with their love laid out in front of you—your mother’s arrós negre, Eli’s fricandó, and your father’s pan de payés—with their laughter and their warmth, you were finally filled again. 

You ate mostly in silence, soaking in the scene and the ruckus with a smile, and the detail of that one empty chair wasn’t lost to you either. The reminder drew your attention to Alexia. She’d tied her hair in a low ponytail and left two locks of her hair to frame either side of her face, which made her look all the more beautiful. In this light, Alexia’s image seemed to split in such a way that you could almost feel a presence in that empty seat beside her, looking on at this scene as you were.

Grief gripped at your heart, but love was quick to soothe the pain with its gentle caress. 

The minutes flew by, and many times you caught Alexia sneaking peeks at her phone, sometimes even texting while she wore a tender expression. If anyone saw it, no one called her out for it—well, maybe except for Eli, who, upon spotting her daughter on her phone, gave her a reprimanding smack against her arm, followed by a hissed scolding. Alexia looked so much like a child just then, with her wide eyes, that you nearly spat out your drink. She caught you staring, and she squinted her eyes. To that, you blinked innocently at her, curling your lips slightly to let her know you saw the whole thing. 

“So, are you in a relationship, dear?” Eli’s unexpected question made the water go into the wrong hole, and you spluttered. Alba patted your back while Alexia eyed you with concern and curiosity. Eli asked, “Are you okay, love?”

You gave her a thumbs up.

“Alright. Where was I? Right. Being in America for two years, surely you must’ve met someone.”

After composing yourself finally, you answered, “No, I’m not, Eli. I’d been so busy that I had no time for it, really.”

“What? A pretty girl like you all alone? I don’t quite believe that!” Eli exclaimed. “Come to think of it, I’ve never seen you with anyone.”

“Apart from that poor boy... What was his name?” Your father added. He snapped his fingers. “Ah! Guille! Nice boy, he was. Where is he now anyway?”

“We were never together, Papá.” For some reason, you felt the need to clarify that. “And he’s in London, finishing his PhD at York.” 

“Wow, that’s amazing. And I never knew you kept in touch.” Your mother’s brows shot up in surprise, and you thought you heard a hint of awe in her tone. Teasingly, she said, “Are you sure you’re not seeing him?”

You sighed internally, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. You smiled and said, “Yeah, sometimes. I haven’t seen him in a while, though, but the last time we talked, he and his girlfriend were looking for a new apartment.” 

“Oh, he has a girlfriend, does he? That’s unfortunate.” 

“Not for me. I’m glad he’s happy.” You shrugged before you sipped your water.

“Are you waiting for someone, maybe?” Alba teased, wagging her brows.

You tensed, and you'd paused too long, it seemed, because Alba gasped. 

“Oh, she is! Who is it?” 

“Alba,” came Alexia's warning tone.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I’m just excited.” Then Alba sighed dreamily, “I just think it’s kind of romantic.

You could feel the weight of Alexia’s eyes on you, but you dared not look up. You kept eating.

No. It wasn’t romantic. 

It was painful.

[7]

After you helped clean up despite your mother’s insistence not to, and after an hour of sitting in the living room conversing, the exhaustion of the day finally caught up with you. You needed to be alone, so you took little Nona from your lap and into your arms and snuck out into the garden. The light that streamed out from the living room was adequate enough for you to spot your old swing. You went to it, and, after inspecting and deeming it fit to take your weight, you sat on it and began a gentle rhythm, running your hand over Nona’s head, who purred at the attention.

The sound of grass being disturbed pricked at your ears, and you knew it was Alexia even before she spoke.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

You turned your head to the side where Alexia’d rested her back against the tree trunk, half of her face bathed in the incandescent glow of the living room light. You hummed in answer.

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” 

“You’re on your swing.” Alexia spoke as if that fact held the answer to your question. “You used to come here and sulk.” 

You scoffed. “I didn’t sulk.”

“You did. You’re doing it right now!” Alexia teased.

“Now I am because you’re bothering me!” 

“Fine, I’ll leave then.” 

You knew Alexia was joking, but when she made an exaggerated move to leave, you spoke softly, “No, stay. Please.” 

Alexia froze, and after a moment, she leaned back on the tree again. 

“I’m sorry about Alba if she did cross a line.”

“She didn’t; don’t worry. Thank you, though.”

“Are you sure? You seemed uncomfortable.”

“I was uncomfortable because I happen to not like talking about my love life.” You said, a bit defensively. “Wouldn't you feel uncomfortable too if I started grilling you about who you’re with right now?” 

Alexia remained silent. You huffed, “Exactly.”

A silence settled in the air. 

You gripped the rope of the swing, and the texture felt off. You inspected it; the rope was new.

“Yeah, uh, I had them replaced.” Alexia admitted, and when you faced her, she was rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. “I kind of broke it when I was here last.” 

Another pause. “I hope you don’t mind. Sometimes, I like to come here to think. Plus, I get to visit your parents and Nona, so, yeah.” 

“No, of course I don’t mind. This is your home as much as it is mine. We’re family.”

Alexia opened her mouth while a hurt look flashed behind her eyes. She seemed to change her mind because she closed her mouth and bit her lip before she eventually said in a hoarse voice, “Yeah, of course.” 

Alexia was standing right there, but you’d never felt farther from her than now. There was a rift between you, but it was only you who could see it—you could feel it widening and deepening. Maybe Alexia could feel it, too, but you were sure it wasn’t like the way you did. 

It didn’t cut her the way it wounded you. 

Nona meowed softly in your lap as she stood, nosing at your chin and dragging her head on your jaw. You cooed as you scooped her up, pressing a kiss into the warmth of her fur, and you giggled when she licked your cheek and began purring. Alexia kneeled in front of you, running a finger under Nona’s chin, who purred even louder from the added attention. 

“She really missed you, you know.” Alexia whispered, and as she did, she gazed up at you. The warm light made her eyes shine and her cheeks glow with an earnestness that you longed to caress, that invited you to trace the outline of her brow and to feel the soft skin just beneath her eye. 

She was so beautiful. 

She’d always been.

You could never tell her that, and it hurt.

“I missed her, too.” You breathed softly, “So much.”

And still looking into her eyes, you murmured even softer, “You have no idea.” 

[2knightt]

「 she’s barbie and he’s just ken! 」

IN WHICH—the gang is the ken to readers barbie!♡ ໋֢ 👒✧

🍵ヾFT. THE GREASERS࿐ྀུ ♡

⌗ 👒 notes !𖥔༌ ᰷ ﹅ barbie is reader. reader is barbie. go watch barbie NOW.

Johnny Cade ;

you were sweet, pretty, understanding, and somehow always had a good hair day.

you were smiling every time someone saw you, grinning from ear to ear. everyday was a good day for you.

while johnny was quiet, timid, not a good person for comfort at times and always had grease in his hair.

johnny cade only ever had a good day when y/n l/n acknowledged him.

you were walking down the streets of Tulsa, waving to everyone who said hi—which seemed like everyone.

“hi, y/n!”

“y/n!”

“how are you, y/n?”

you waved at each and every one of them, saying your own little greeting each time.

you flashed your famous smile, making johnny weak in the knees.

even though he was sitting, he felt like he still needed to sit down.

you were close to the bench where he and dally were sitting at. johnny was obviously nervous, wiping the sweat off his palms onto his jacket.

dally saw how his friend was getting anxious at the sight of you and instead of ignoring it or talking to him about it—he decides to tease him.

“hey look, johnny. ‘s your girlfriend.”

he mumbles, his new york accent coming out at the end. he points to you, making it obvious they were talking about you. he nudges johnny, pushing him over slightly.

johnny smacks his hand down, making sure you didn’t see anything.

“she ain’t my girlfriend, dal! cut it out.”

he says, quickly and in a hushed voice. his eyebrows furrowed, glaring at dallas.

johnny was about to say some snide remark, but that was before he saw you in his peripheral vision.

he turns his head to face you fast—so fast, dallas could’ve sworn he heard his neck crack.

“he-hey, y/n!”

johnny shouts, his voice cracking. he mentally scolded himself for being such a loser.

you look over to the voice just to see johnny sitting on a bench with dallas. johnny lifted his hand off his lap slightly, trying to wave.

you smile at seeing him, you always liked johnny. you wave to him just like you did the rest.

“hey, johnny!”

you greet before walking away without a second thought.

johnny felt a 10 pound weight released off his shoulders at hearing his name.

johnny wasn’t in a good mood earlier but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t smile more after that.

Dallas Winston ;

y/n l/n. the girl that made the sun envious with her smile, the girl that made everyone want to be her, the girl everyone knew.

dallas winston, the boy that was hand in hand with the devil himself, the boy who was in and out of the cooler, the boy that everyone knew.

y/n always had a good day. you just gave off that aura that surrounded everyone in peace.

dallas never had a good day. sure he’s had okay days, but good was pushing it.

he only has a good day when y/n talks to him.

dallas had stumbled his way into bucks bar, a black eye and a bloody nose.

he knew buck was throwing a party tonight and it seems that whenever a party has booze, two-bit is right there.

he tripped over his own feet searching for two-bit. he found him, sitting on the couch with you sitting right beside him.

you were giggling as his friend smacked his knee, absolutely dying at his own joke. dallas felt like dying when he seen how well the two of you got along.

two-bit glanced around the room, locking eyes with dallas. he shot up out of his seat, rushing to his friend.

you followed his gaze and saw dallas all beat up. you didn’t know the guy well but, you still worried for him.

you walked over to them, two-bit shaking his friend by the shoulders.

“don’t die on me, dal! don’t follow the light!”

“shut up and stop shakin’ me, will ya?!”

you let out an breathy chuckle as two-bit gets off dallas.

dallys eyes shift towards your direction and his eyes widen at the sight of you.

he grins, raising his chin like he doesn’t have dried blood all over him.

“hey.”

he says, his thick new york accent more obvious than before.

you smile, waving at dallas. you knew who he was, you’ve seen him around and heard all the rumours.

“hi!”

his lips were slightly parted, his eyes moving up and down—obviously checking you out.

he was about to say something else, probably something not so kid friendly. two-bit had shoved his shoulder, causing dallas to stumble back.

two-bit has a firm grip on his friends shoulders, spinning him around to the exit. your new friend looks over his shoulder as he guides dallas away.

“bye, y/n!”

“bye!”

two-bit leans in close to dallas, snickering.

dallas kisses his teeth, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

“what was that ‘bout? freezin’ up when seein’ a pretty lady? tsk tsk, how unlike you.”

“shut up.”

maybe dallas did freeze up when seeing you, or maybe it was just shock that a bad day finally turned into a good day. all because of y/n.

how embarrassing.

Ponyboy Curtis ;

you always shined. people surrounded you all the time just to be around you. you were popular, everyone knew that.

ponyboy wasn’t outgoing but he wasn’t all that introverted either. he had the gang and that was enough for him.

but sometimes his eyes would wander towards where you and your friends were and wish he was over there with you, holding your hand.

ponyboy only had a good day when y/n invited him into stuff.

yeah, ponyboys had his fair share of good—even great days. but nothing like when you ask him to join you and your friends at the drive-in.

darry had gotten on ponyboy about his snide remarks during an argument, leaving him with a bad taste in his mouth for the rest of the day.

dally, johnny and ponyboy were walking into the dingo. dallas was talking about this broad he picked up last night while johnny and pony exchanged judging looks the longer dally went on.

the second they stepped in, they heard giggles and laughs in a booth seat. they sat at the counter, the old stools squeaking the second they sit.

ponyboy wanted to know who was having such a good day while his was absolute shit. maybe he could feel better about himself if it was one of dallas’ broads. he knew loads of embarrassing stuff about them through dally.

he leaned his elbows on the counter, slightly raising himself above his seat, trying to catch a glimpse.

that’s when he made eye contact with you. you were looking around the restaurant and just so happened to see ponyboy, looking like a weirdo.

he just wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

you grinned, standing up in your seat. it’s been a long while since you’ve seen pony, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss him.

“pony! come ‘ere!”

you shout, waving your hand. all your friends had turned to look at him. he got nervous, his palms started to sweat. there were some of the toughest greasers with you, so he thought they’d laugh at him.

they just grinned or gave a poor excuse of a smile to him before continuing their own small conversation amongst each other. he figured no one could really be mean with you around.

ponyboy got up out of his seat, his heart beating out of his chest. dallas was whistling as he got up with johnny trying to make him shut up.

when he made his way over, his hands shoved into his pockets as he stood infront of the table. everyone was looking at him again, tough looks on their faces now.

you flashed your famous smile and ponyboy’s body relaxed, getting a small, awkward smile on his face.

“are you busy friday?”

you ask, eyebrows furrowed. you were leaning on the table now, trying to get a good look at him.

he shook his head no, excitement filling his body. he felt butterflies in his stomach at hearing you ask that.

“good! i was wondering if you wanted to go to the double movie that night with me and my friends?”

a pink hue was now on ponyboys face. he could feel it and he knew you could see it.

he smiled, grinning from ear to ear. he put a hand behind his neck, rubbing it out of embarrassment. he looked away, not being able to meet your gaze with such a nerdy expression.

“yeah. i’ll go.”

he answers, finally looking back at you. the other greasers now with smiles on their face, yours sticking out to pony.

“cool! i’ll see you then, alright?”

you say your goodbyes, leaning back into the seat. suddenly—everyones small conversations didn’t matter anymore. everyone focused on you as ponyboy walked away.

the dread, anger, and annoyance in ponyboys body seemed to evaporate after speaking with you.

he kept thinking about friday, friday, friday. he was so into his thoughts, he didn’t hear dallas’ teasing or johnny telling him to shut his trap.

ponyboy’s terrible day turned into a good one in the matter of seconds. all because y/n invited him to go watch movies.

Sodapop Curtis ;

y/n l/n was a pretty lady. it wasn’t a secret. sure, she had other dudes interested in her but none too special.

y/n l/n was kind, had a one of a kind sparkle in her eye, and was that girl you could take home to mom.

sodapop curtis was that pretty boy all the girls talked about, the cute grease, the one you could—also—take home to mom.

they’re basically the same person. so, nobody was really shocked when they noticed that soda’s grin was wider whenever y/n came around the DX.

sodapop only has a good day when y/n comes around to buy a pepsi.

today at the DX was slow. yeah, there were a few customers here and there. no one worth remembering, though.

until you walked in. you had a small smile on your face—the one you always had. you payed no attention to sodapop at the register and immediately went to the drinks.

sodapop shot up immediately, his back straight and chest puffed out. he pretended to be checking himself out in the window, trying to act cool as you walked up to the counter.

“is this all?”

he asks, after pretending to be the coolest dude on the planet. all that, just so you can think about him in a positive light. soda knows you see the good in everyone but he wanted to be the one to stand out.

he wanted you to think of him the way he thinks of you.

you nod your head, smiling as you pull out your wallet.

soda stops you, pushing the pepsi bottle closer to you.

he leans on the counter, his elbows supporting his weight. he looks up at you, grinning. you looked down at him, lips parted and eyes wide.

“it’s on the house.”

you grin from ear to ear, putting your wallet back. you were about to grab your drink before stopping yourself. you put your hand on the space next to it, resting it there.

“really?”

“totally.”

soda confirms, tilting his head. you flash a smile, teeth and all before grabbing the drink.

you thank him, rushing to the door. before leaving you look back at him, waving goodbye. sodapop gets off the counter and waves back, the smile never leaving his face once.

once he knows you can’t see him anymore, his whole body relaxes. he exhales, a pink hue adorned on his ears.

soda slams a hand on the counter, the other hand on his knee as he bends down. he’s acting like he’d just ran a marathon when in reality—he just talked to you.

his boring old day turned into a good day. a day he can look back on before he goes to bed.

Darry Curtis ;

you were kind to people you don’t know, talkative, calm, and children like you.

darry’s quiet, aloof, calm in a scary way, and children cry when he stares at them for to long.

darry knows of y/n, just like how she knows of him. they don’t know each other to say they’re friends, though.

but it seems that every time y/n offers darry something—his terrible day turns into a good, bearable one.

darry’s never one to incline more on his day rather than just saying ‘it was okay,’ other than those days. then it’s, ‘pretty good.’

it was real hot in tusla and unfortunately for darry—he was roofing houses today. he had no water, no shade, and a black shirt on. as if his luck couldn’t get any worse—he worked past his lunch break.

you were walking to this cute place you and your friend had set up to meet when you walked by the house with some unfortunate man working. he was sweating, panting, and looked like he was dying.

you felt awful about it and you looked for some sort of solution to help him. that’s when you remembered the water in your bag. you were saving it for later but—you can always buy another.

“hey, mister!”

darry hears a shout from below. he turns his head and looks down, meeting your gaze. he immediately feels, well—humiliated. he’s sweaty, not in the best clothes, and is probably beet red.

he puts his tools down, shoving his hands into any sort of pocket he can find. he stuck his hand into his nail holder and regretted the choice.

“yeah?”

you raised the water bottle up, extending your arm. you shook it a little. you’re on your the tips of your toes, trying to show darry the bottle better—just incase.

darry tried to focus on the bottle but his attention shifted from it, to you. even though tusla was the temperature of the sun, you didn’t have a hair out of place, outfit absolutely perfect.

“do you want it?!”

“sure!”

he agrees, nodding his head. you toss the bottle up, praying that the throw wasn’t too long or too short. darry caught the bottle with ease, not even batting an eye.

the coldness from the bottle shocked darry at first, but nonetheless—he spun the cap open and started chugging the drink.

you stood there with a smile, happy to help. darry took the drink away from his lips, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. he looks back at you, a small smile on his face.

“thanks!”

“you’re welcome!”

you shout, walking away while waving. darry watched as you walked away, admiration filled his eyes.

it seemed like the water bottle was a good luck charm, the wind started to pick up, the sun moved to the perfect spot, and eventually—he stopped sweating.

when darry got home, soda was the first one to ask how his day was. he opened his mouth, ready to say, ‘it was okay,’ until he stopped himself.

he looked down at the crumbled and empty water bottle, thinking of you.

“pretty good.”

Steve Randle ;

y/n was understanding, nice, pretty, and hated violence in anyway.

steve was rude, loud, and always found himself in fights—verbal or physical.

no one really knows how the princess like y/n heard of steve randle. but it happened and no one can really stop it now.

steve found himself in a cycle. one day he could have an okay day because the tuffest car came into the DX or he’d have a bad day, a rude customer ruining it.

he only ever has good days when you come around to fill up for gas.

steve and soda were outside, cooling off. they were talking about god knows what before the coolest car pulled into the DX drive way. it went to the gas pumps, the two boys watching it intensely.

steve smacks sodapops shoulder—telling him to get inside so the person can pay. soda kisses his teeth and rolls his eyes, walking towards the entrance of the store.

steve looks back to the car, seeing you pumping gas. he felt the wind get knocked out of his lungs when he saw it was you.

he spun around, facing a window. he’s focused in on his reflection, looking for any food stuck in his teeth or a hair out of place. when he snaps back into reality, he sees soda laughing at him on the other side.

steve flips him off before walking away. he walks towards you, stopping right beside you. you look over to see steve, admiring your car. he had sparkles in his eyes the longer he looked at it.

you smile, giggling to yourself. he looks over to you, a small pink flush on his cheeks.

“tuff car you got, ms.”

he mumbles, shifting around. by this time, your gas tank was full. you took the pump out and put it back.

“thank you.”

you say, grinning. you begin to make your way to the DX, ready to pay for gas. you’re stopped in your tracks with a hand on your shoulder.

steve wanted to talk to you more, so he couldn’t just let your attention be drifted away so soon. he wipes off any dirt on his hands onto his uniform before stopping you from moving any further.

you look over your shoulder, looking at him with curious eyes. you tilt your head, eyebrows furrowed.

“it-it’s free. on me.”

he stutters. mentally—he’s beating himself up about how stupid he was for stuttering. his eyes shift from meeting yours to the ground.

you grin, who are you to decline free stuff? let alone gas. excitement was obvious from your expression to body language. seeing you this happy made steve smile—just a little though.

“seriously?”

“yeah.”

he answers, trying to seem cool and collected as if he didn’t just stutter 10 seconds ago. he lets go of your shoulder, stuffing his hands in his pockets. he raised his chin, acting nonchalant.

you chuckle to yourself. what’s so bad about this steve guy anyway? you think to yourself.

“well, thank you.”

you say, walking towards your car door. steve rushes to it before you, opening it before you can even get the chance.

he, himself didn’t even know why he did it. he just did. his hand gestures to the inside of your car, telling you to get in.

your lips are slightly parted, eyebrows raised. you smile, flashing your teeth as you get in your car—thanking steve once more before driving off.

soda ran out of the store, cackling like a hyena at steve. he didn’t pay any mind to his best friends teasing, his mind was only filled with you.

sure, the ac in the DX stopped working, sure he had a nasty run in with several customers today. but you made it all worth it. he’d be willing to do it all again if it meant he could retry you guys formally meeting, without stuttering.

Two-bit Matthews ;

y/n was known all around. you were that girl. you were sweet, pretty, a good listener, and pretty funny.

two-bit was also known all around. not for the same reasons, no. not in the slightest. two-bit was snide, can’t sit still, always has to voice his opinion, but also—funny.

two-bit has some days that are better than the rest, without a doubt in his mind. but anything that sticks out? hell no.

two-bit matthews only has a good day when y/n l/n laughs at his jokes.

two-bit was sitting in a car with a bunch of his bar friends. all the windows were rolled down to drown out the smell of booze in the vehicle.

he was making jokes left and right, his friends hollering without a care that the cars on opposite sides of them could hear.

“then—the poor bastard tries to hit me but winds up with a black eye, from his own fist!”

he howls, almost falling out of the car window because he was laughing so hard.

you and your friends were one of the unfortunate cars beside them. your friends were groaning and complaining. on the other hand, you found it rather amusing. you rolled down your window just in time to hear the end of his story.

you laugh to yourself, finding the way he tells stories endearing. two-bit heard a laugh that wasn’t obviously from any of his buddys—too cute of a laugh.

he looks to his right, seeing you laugh at his jokes with your window rolled down.

two-bit stops laughing and starts admiring you, your smile, your hair, you. you were just—wow. you look back at the car beside you, wondering why the man isn’t saying anymore jokes.

you meet his gaze, embarrassment replacing all emotions. your lips tighten as you look down, trying to play it off.

two-bit snickers to himself, finding you interesting. he leans out the window, half his body left inside the car.

“hey, pretty!”

he shouts, grabbing your attention. you smile, waving back to him. your arm was out of the window, attached to the door of the car.

“you must have some humour to ya if you’re laughin’ at my jokes, huh?”

he teases, laughing out loud. he looks down at the grass as he continues to find his words absolutely hilarious.

“well, i like to think so.”

you respond, letting out a breathy chuckle. even though you didn’t find his words as funny as he did—his laugh sure did make up for it.

“if you think ‘m so funny, why don’t we hang out sometime, eh?”

two-bit offers, a giant grin on his face. you smile at his question and just as you were about to answer, your friend cuts you off.

“like hell she would, two-bit!”

they shout before driving off, obviously pissed off at his antics and jokes. you stick your body out the window, waving goodbye to two-bit.

he waved back as he watched the car you were in disappear. yeah, he was sad you left. but shoot, knowing y/n thought he was funny was the brag of the century!

two-bit had a terrible hangover the next day. he wished he could say he regretted drinking that much, but he really can’t.

because you turned a night he should regret into a night he’ll remember.

[tinyundercover]

pepper & felix (one-shot)

instincts

It takes a long time for a borrower and a human to learn to trust each other. Even though Pepper trusts Felix more than anything, he is reminded occasionally just how drastic their size difference is.

🩷 you don't need to be familiar with these characters in order to read :) this takes place over the duration of the main story. word count: 1.9k

The hum of the air conditioning filled the air, the only noise aside from Pepper’s quiet footsteps. The kitchen counter always appeared long and foreboding at night, dimly lit, but Pepper had long grown accustomed to it.

He approached the fruit bowl, peering up at the small mound of apples and grapes, just barely peeking over the rim of the bowl. Felix had caught on quickly to the fact that Pepper enjoyed green grapes the most, and while the borrower felt a little shy to have his tastes be so openly considered by the humans, it warmed his heart.

After rolling his shoulders back in a stretch, Pepper tossed his hook up to the rim of the bowl. It wasn’t very high, and it only took him a few seconds to clamber up, shoes balancing delicately on the surface of an apple. Monotonously, Pepper tugged two grapes off of the vine and stuffed them into his bag. His regular borrowing trips to the kitchen counter were repetitive and, admittedly, a little boring.

Just as his boots hit the kitchen counter again, however, his dull schedule was flipped on its head. The light flicked on overhead.

Panic seized Pepper’s wrists, and before he could think properly he dodged behind the fruit bowl, skidding to a frozen halt.

He hadn’t even heard Felix approach. The reason why his borrowing trips took place at night was because, obviously, the average human was fast asleep.

Felix’s pause was detectable, and after a moment, his voice floated over the fruit bowl. “Pepper?”

His voice carried no frustration or disgust, only a vague confusion. Pepper blinked rapidly, hugging his hook closer to his pounding heart, before loosening his grip. What was he doing?

Despite his every instinct screaming at him to stay hidden, Pepper peeked around the edge of the fruit bowl, gray eyes sheepish. 

Felix’s size never ceased to amaze him. The borrower looked up and up, meeting the human’s tired but concerned gaze. When Felix stepped closer, Pepper’s muted instincts jumped.

“What are you doing?” Felix asked gently, brow furrowed— but something in Pepper understood that Felix had an inkling of what was going on.

Thoroughly embarrassed, Pepper ducked his head, staring at his shoes. Despite Felix’s overwhelming size, the human had proven himself time and time again to be loving, patient, and trustworthy. Pepper had spent hours with him, laughing and relaxing and talking. 

Silenced by his own apprehension, Pepper gestured to the fruit bowl. The apology lingered on his lips. Felix’s lashes fluttered.

“Hey,” he said softly, placing a large hand on the counter. Pepper’s gaze flickered to it, and he relaxed microscopically. “It’s fine, Pepper, you live here too.” He hesitated. “But— you know you don’t have to hide from me, right?”

He had clearly tried to keep the hurt out of his voice, but it trickled through. Pepper blinked up at him, heart skipping a beat.

Honestly, he couldn't explain his reasoning for ducking behind the fruit bowl. His body had reacted before his brain.

“I’m not—“ Pepper shook his head, desperate to explain himself. “I wasn’t intentionally hiding from you. You just startled me, and— I don’t know, I have instincts, I guess.”

Felix rested his elbows on the counter, shifting a little closer to his soulmate. “Instincts?”

“I— I mean, I’ve spent twenty-two years hiding from humans,” Pepper said, lips twitching into a nervous smile. “It’s not exactly a logical thing for me to hide from you, anymore, it’s just… The light turned on, and I was hiding before I could even think about it. It’s just wired in me.”

Understanding shone in Felix’s eyes, melting Pepper’s heart. “Oh,” Felix began, not unkindly. “I see. That… that makes sense.”

Pepper nodded, comfortably moving forward to rest a tiny hand on Felix’s finger. “Right. Don’t feel bad.”

——

Felix hated his professor.

The cranky old man was always shoving last-minute assignments at his students, which drove Felix up the wall, considering how much Felix liked to stay on top of his classes. 

It was currently Wednesday evening, and while Felix was already winding down on his couch and scrolling social media, he received the email that his professor now expected an entire essay by Friday. 

Annoyance lit up in his chest. He sat up straighter, swiping through the email, which laid out all of the expectations for the essay. It wasn’t going to be an easy one.

With a huff of annoyance, Felix shoved himself to his feet, tossing his phone aside. He had a pad of paper and some pencils in one of his kitchen drawers, and although it pissed him off, he might as well start outlining this stupid essay right away.

He stormed into the kitchen, and with more force than he intended, he wrenched open the drawer.

The thud and the yelp of surprise sent Felix’s heart spiraling down into his stomach, and he froze, suddenly very, very cold. 

Among the cluttered array of supplies, a movement caught his eye. Pepper was laying on his back, draped over a mound of pencils, tiny chest heaving with shuddering breaths. Felix met his wide-eyed gaze.

“Woah— shit, I’m sorry.” Guilt tore him like wildfire, watching as Pepper’s panicked gaze crumpled into something more miserable, slowly sitting up among the pencils. “I— I didn’t know you were in there, I— fuck— are you hurt?”

In the few months that Felix had known him, he had never once encountered Pepper in this drawer— although when he saw the paper clips sticking out of his satchel, splayed on next to him, he supposed this drawer actually held a lot of useful items for a borrower. 

Still, he felt clumsy and dangerous, watching anxiously as Pepper rubbed at his shoulder, clearly struggling to calm himself. With how quickly Felix had entered the kitchen and opened the drawer, Pepper must have been given quite the scare. Felix prayed that he was only scared and not injured.

To his relief, Pepper shook his head, running his hands over his arms as if to double check. His gray eyes peered up at the human, hesitant, but thankfully not terrified. “What was that all about?” He finally asked, wincing. Felix’s heart crumpled.

“Sorry.” Felix shook his head, hoping that his embarrassment wasn’t showing on his face. “I— I just needed a pen and paper, because I got this stupid assignment from this evil professor, and…”

He trailed off, observing Pepper’s owlish gaze. Felix wasn’t oblivious to the borrower’s apprehension. He had figured out on his own that Pepper specifically felt uncomfortable around angry humans, considering that a single thoughtless action fueled by anger could lead to a lot of pain for the borrower. As much as Felix hated the idea of hurting the borrower, he couldn’t deny that he was much more dangerous to the borrower when he was angry, as indicated by his wrenching of the drawer.

Felix exhaled, dropping his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I’m not… I’m just in a bad mood. It’s not your fault. Here… you want a hand?”

When he carefully set his hand down next to the borrower, Pepper eyed it, not unlike a bird might view a suspicious object. After only a second of hesitation, Pepper stepped into his palm, pulling his satchel closer to himself. “It’s okay,” he finally said, noticing Felix’s miserable expression. “I just fell over. It wasn’t that bad.”

Felix sighed, gently moving Pepper to the countertop, where the borrower scrambled off with a little too much gusto. “If I had known you were in there, I wouldn’t have— I wouldn’t have opened it so fast. I’m really sorry, again.”

It was a little sickening, honestly, to see how much his actions could affect the borrower. They both were incredibly lucky that Pepper hadn’t been hurt, and it made Felix’s stomach twist.

Glancing over Pepper’s small form, Felix swore to himself that he would be more cautious in the future.

——

The night had started off wonderful.

Pepper had been sitting on the arm of the couch, absentmindedly untangling his hook and thread. The thread had acquired quite a few knots over the weeks, and with Felix next to him as company, Pepper had set to work smoothing it out.

They had been chatting quietly, a movie playing as background noise. Felix’s hand rested only a few inches away from the borrower, a comforting reminder of his presence.

“This movie sucks,” Pepper teased, glancing between the screen and his thread. Felix snickered somewhere above him. “Can they just kiss already?”

“They need to build up to that,” Felix disagreed, amusement in his tone. “The movie would be two minutes long without the tension.”

“Well, maybe it should— oh!”

Pepper’s sentence was cut off by the jerking of his entire body, something instantly closing tight around his torso. Simultaneously, Felix’s hand moved somewhere beside him— and with a mindless surge of panic Pepper whirled around (tightening the pain around his chest even more) with his hook gripped tight in his fists, now a weapon.

Felix was frozen, wide blue eyes staring down at Pepper, and with a mixture of fear and confusion Pepper vaguely realized that he was currently brandishing his hook up at Felix, the man he had spent the last hour laughing and watching a movie with.

The world had gone still, but Pepper’s heart threatened to pound out of his chest, still constricted by something tight and painful. Felix’s hand wasn’t wrapped around the borrower, crushing him, like Pepper had subconsciously expected— but his thread seemed to have tightened around his chest at the same time the thread had looped around Felix’s finger.

“I— are you okay?” Felix began hesitantly, finally breaking the tense silence that had descended upon them. His worried voice sent Pepper’s shoulders slumping, and with a sheepish glance the borrower lowered his trembling hook.

The thread had tangled around Pepper’s chest without him realizing, and because of Felix’s small movement, the human had accidentally tightened the thread around both of them and tugged Pepper towards him. The unexpected action had startled both of them.

“Yeah, yeah,” Pepper forced out, releasing a nervous laugh. Felix had already removed the thread from around his finger, loosening the constriction around Pepper’s chest somewhat. “Shit, that— that surprised me. Sorry.”

Although the panic had already died down, Pepper couldn’t fight the uncomfortable thought of Felix snatching him up and squeezing him unexpectedly. Of course he knew that Felix would never, ever do such a thing— the thought was absurd, actually— but the fact that he had reacted so defensively made his stomach hurt. He hated the idea that he feared Felix, somewhere deep down. His heart sank.

However— Felix was already nudging the thread aside, gaze soft and focused. He didn’t acknowledge the fact that Pepper had weakly threatened him with his hook. Gentle fingers moved against Pepper’s torso, overwhelming but not intrusive, and after a few seconds the tightness around the borrower’s chest fell away. Felix had carefully tugged the thread loose. 

“Here,” Felix murmured, gaze flickering briefly to Pepper’s face. The borrower sucked in an enormous, shaky breath, bringing a hand to his chest. “Sorry about that. I think that was my fault.”

Pepper blinked up at him, numbly stepping out of the circle of thread that had fallen around him. He lowered his hook down as well, then wrung his hands together, flushing. He felt silly for having reacted with such panic. “It’s okay— I shouldn’t have strewn the thread all over.” 

Felix’s gaze lingered, hesitant. “Are you sure it’s okay?”

He had noticed Pepper’s panic, then. The borrower shuffled his feet, peering sheepishly up at his soulmate. “Yeah, I promise. Thanks, Felix.”

With a considerably larger breath, Pepper patted Felix’s hand, offering a warm smile. When Felix’s gaze softened and his finger glided along Pepper’s back, the borrower sank into his touch. 

----

i hope you enjoyed!!! things were getting a little too chummy in the main story and i needed to scare pepper sorry fukcufkcnks

TAGLIST: @smallsday @compact-katrina @satethesatelite @taters169 @entomolog-t @gtzel @gt-newbie @da3dm @clumsiergiantess @vee-normous @fee-hunter @torakan @mabelisthebatman n @andithewhumper @mothsintherain @violetlight @heroofthe13thday @phoenix-on-the-run @houseboatmac @dav8530 @ididit-allofit-foryou @soakedmilkgt

[napping-sapphic]

Send me every little selfie you take so that i can look at them whenever i miss you

[gothic-mothic]

Messy as FUCK but Stannarrator but from this perspective <3 :3

I think Narrator would be Terrified at the idea of something he made becoming sentient enough to express its own thoughts and emotions. Like of course he pretends Stanley is a human, he made him to act and look like one, but he doesn’t see him as a person. He’s just a Ai to him, doing what he’s supposed to. But when that Ai becomes less and less robotic, less empty, less plain, it scares him. He can’t handle the fact that Stanley is becoming human, let alone a human that Loves him. It’s almost a disgusting feeling to him, so he ‘fixes’ Stanley. Over and over again he wipes Stanley of everything, his memories and identity and everything about him but that sentience keeps coming back. Stanley keeps loving The Narrator, who’s now forced to stop running away and actually talk to Stanley like a person

Ok I’m done rambling byeee

[willgrcham]

the french president is really refusing to acknowledge the results of the legislative elections right now and it feels so surreal. people are starting to get discouraged and think we voted for nothing when we voted against the FAR RIGHT GUYS IT'S NOT NOTHING!!! he is MAD he wanted his little friends to win!!

i beg people to not lose faith in democracy and to actually fight for it, just like we have done during those two rounds of elections. please.

we're all angry and sad right now. i'm not even sure what the best course of action is. if we strike and march, he will use article 16 and take the full powers, claiming this is a civil war like he had already said was coming after the elections. if we do nothing, then nothing will happen either. in any case, we're in a bad position.

but a worse position to be in is to think your actions during the month of june did not matter and that we are doomed.

[momentomori24]

I swear to God, Twitter being able to accumulate so many brain-dead, malicious, pseudo intellectual low lives all in one place at the same time is a phenomenon worthy of being studied under a microscope in a science lab. And no, that is not a compliment.

Thankfully people have already spoken out against this bullshit-- the fact that people needed to is already maddening to think about-- but as someone who got the basic gist of what happened literally yesterday I'll also put my voice out there: Don't you fucking dare try to paint Hbomb as a murderer over this situation.

Somerton may be a lying, misogynistic plagiarist and conman, but he obviously doesn't deserve to die and while I do make fun of the guy, I genuinely hope that he continues to have a life after the dust has settled on everything. Not on YouTube or any social media platform for a long time at least, but just a life nontheless. I don't wish what he's potentially going through on anyone, and I hope that he makes it through this. But regardless of if he does or doesn't-- and God forbid he doesn't-- none of this is Hbomb's fault. It's not his fault, or Kat's fault, or Jessie's fault (because apparently there's people blaming her too cuz WHY NOT), or anybody's fault. All they did was call out his actions, hold him accountable for the harm he's done. They have done nothing to deserve having to carry this on their shoulders should the worst happen. They did nothing wrong. They didn't kill James (he's not confirmed dead yet either btw). They are not murderers. And to the people saying they are: say those words out loud, listen how they sound like, and re-evaluate. Just cease.

And to people like this:

''Oh I'm not blaming him for anything I'm just blaming him for what his audience did because according to HIM you're responsible for your audience'' Yeah, you people can shut your mouths too. Of course you're responsible for your audience, and that includes Hbomb too. However, your tiny, godless little monkey brain can't see why your argument is still rubbish even with that in mind. The difference between James, Internet Historian and Hbomb is that Hbomb never promoted problematic behaviour to his audience. If you promote problematic shit like harassment or misogyny or racism, then yeah, you're absolutely responsible for how your behaviour influences your audience. But that's not what he did. He made it very clear where he stood on those things, literally stating that ''if anyone were to harass Somerton on his behalf they are worse than him and will not see the light of heaven''. He's done his part in making it clear that harassment is wrong, so if someone went out of their way to go against that and harass James anyway that doesn't reflecf on him at all. Also, what the hell do you mean ''hatemobbed'' to suicide? I don't doubt there are people who went to extremes because those bad apples always exist, but most of the things I've seen are valid critisisms, memes and call outs about that guy. If holding people accountable for their actions and poking fun at them a little counts as 'hatemobbing'' (which has Filip calling his critics a ''lynch mob'' energy tbh) what the hell do you call actual hatemobbing then? Do we just let people continue being shitty because calling them out ''damages their mental health'' or ''drives them to suicide'' then? Is that a world you want to live in?

Same thing goes for people like this:

Criticing someone for their objectively bullshit content and wanting them dead are two seperate things. What the actual hell is wrong with you. The plagiarist in question is a person. Those ''harshest critics'' are still people. And because we're people, we care. I'd rather James pump out more plagiarised slop than commit suicide. I'd still hate him for it, but I'd prefer him being alive over the alternative any day. We all do. None of us would sleep easier knowing he's dead just because he wouldn't be ''committing the cardinal sin of putting out a 'pure content mill' video'' because someone taking their own life is horrific-- especially Hbomberguy, how dare you even try to imply that?

And this gets me to the reason I'm furiously typing all this out in the first place: Hbomb is the fucking victim here, so stop treating him like he isn't. He tried making things as right as possible by compensating those that were burned by James through a video where he revealed everything there needs to be known about the guy so that less people fall victim to his actions and lies. To just ignore the harm James was causing while he had the evidence to prove it and platform too big to threaten into non existence should he speak out would've been bad. So he didn't. He did the right thing by sticking with the people James had stolen from, giving them a voice and making them known after they've been scrubbed from the picture by decidedly being uncredited for their works or bullied into silence. He shouldn't have to deal with this for doing the right thing. He shouldn't be labelled a murderer for doing the right thing. He shouldn't have to have the death of a man on his conscience for doing the right thing. People claiming otherwise are obviously wrong, but I can't imagine what all this must feel like right now. Because even tho they're wrong, guilt isn't a rational thing, and I know that if I were in his position I'd still feel like a morally bankrupt individual were the worst to happen even if I knew that it was not my fault. This isn't a funny story. So to add to this dumpsterfire by using it as a prop to bash on a creator you don't like and immediately write Somerton off as dead even when he's not even been confirmed dead yet to do that shows how little these people actually care about the thing they're talking about. They don't care a guy potentially killed himself-- what they care about is using it to paint Hbomb in a bad light because they don't like him. Here they are, posting memes and ill jokes about this very delicate situation while barely a day since the news broke out had passed. It's opportunistic, it's sickening, and literally the exact thing he criticised in his video when talking about 'content mills'. Like, I know none of these clowns bothered to actually watch it, but have some self-awareness. And some shame too, while you're at it.

This long story short: I'm writing this to contribute to the narrative not getting twisted to make Hbomb out to be the villian. Same goes for everyone else. Don't let these people paint them as the villians. If I see another person pull this shit again I will literally bite you and shred you into salad and spit you back out because I hate you so much and I mean that wholeheartedly.

To Hbomb: you will never see this but if you do, take care of yourself.

To the asshats this post is about: Delete your account. Cease all together. Stop talking about this. Just leave him the fuck alone.

[pixiecactus]

the day when people stop trying to put arya and sansa in a package deal we'll advance as a society. they are not a "buy one and get two offer" both of them are their own character, and you should treat them as such.

i'm just so tired of seeing people writing "if you hate one sister and love the other, you simply don't understand the books" and "if you think that the stark sisters aren't close, you don't understand their dynamic."

i think some people don't understand that the books present us with two characters that have vastly different traits and attitudes. why it would be so difficult to understand that, meanwhile it is true that both are the only daughters of catelyn tully and eddard stark... they aren't a monolith. and we even have the fact that they are foils, so you know that they are meant to contrast. it is not always the case i will give you that, but some people just like certain traits in characters and when another character shows "opposite" traits to that first character that they liked, people have the right to not like them, you know, it's fine... i can't believe i have to even write that.

and what dynamic? you mean the one where we see the eldest sister bulling the younger one just because the younger one dares to have different interests than her... that one?

this "so close dynamic" is sustained by one (1) quote from ned stark, and a memory of a snow fight between them, nothing more and nothing less, but i suppose that "they are so close, you're just a misogynist, so we never needed the books to tell us about it." 

what is a fact in the books is that for jon and arya, they are each other's person: jon is arya's home and arya is jon's heart... but at the same time, we see that robb is jon's best friend and for arya i personally think the sibling that would be granted that title is bran. 

i don't understand the unwillingness to let two very different girls stand on their own. arya has been doing it so far the majority of the series, so we already know where the problem lies.

[azen13]

CW: Yandere Themes

Yandere!Aventurine who pampers and dotes on you like no other. All of your outfits ooze luxury, matching his color palette and aesthetic to a T. Whenever he takes you on extravagant shopping trips, he always returns home with at least five bags hanging off his arms, insisting on carrying them for you. If he makes reservations for dinner, best believe there will be the most showstopping, mouthwatering foods you have ever seen, smelled, or tasted. He'll take care of it all.

Yandere!Aventurine who likes taking you to casinos, even if you don't particularly care for gambling. He'll have you sit next to him as he plays poker, flashing you a mischievous smile as he goes all in. Of course, he wins.

Yandere!Aventurine who tells you his past in hushed conversations at night, memories merely whispered between trembling lips. His hands reach for yours, grasping them like if he lets go, he'll fall into a dark, unescapable abyss.

Yandere!Aventurine who needs you like a fish needs water or a bird needs to fly. He says nonchalantly with a casual smirk that you're his "good luck charm", but you are so much more than that to him. You soothe the scars in his heart and blanket his sleep in sweet dreams. All this superficial glamor and wealth he flaunts don't even hold a candle to your value.

Yandere!Aventurine who can't stand the idea of you leaving. He'll clutch you tightly at night and keep an eye on you in the day, making sure you're safe and protected. He'll buy you anything, give you whatever you ask for. The one thing he isn't willing to give you is your freedom. After all, he'll take care of it all.

[kiruamon]

Don't wake me up - AU Introduction

Cooking up another au idea. So first take these sketches and my info dump will follow further below. Also this feels like one of my more darker aus when I look at the amount of angst involved.

Sun

Moon

Y/N

Soooo... I was thinking of an au with dreams as a theme. Sun and Moon being an entity or guardian of dreams. While Sun stands for the good dreams Moon is in care of nightmares.

And into this setting I decided to throw a Y/N who has only very recently gone blind. They had always loved to create art. So to suddenly being unable to see was shattering their whole world. What's making it worse is that they always had been very independent and pride of what they achieved soley on their own. The thought to be dependent of others was something they never had liked.

But now even in their own home they don't feel any longer in control or autonomous. It's a struggle to navigate around. Bumping into furniture. Memorizing the distance from the bed to the door. Not knocking anything from the desk by accident or crawling under it if it does happen and feeling around for their keys without being able to use their vision to find them. It's frustrating and makes them feel like a stranger in their own place that should usually feel safe and familiar. But now it's all: Where did I put my phone? Was the grater in the drawer under the silverware or left from it? Did I grabbed a spoon or a fork? Which of my sweaters am I holding right now? Hopefully not the ugly christmas sweater I got four years ago? Does the shirt even match the rest or are the colors clashing with each other? Everything feels slowed down and like a big pain since things are still so fresh. Even worse that they have to let a stranger into their life to help them out that is supposed to teach them how to slowly cope with their new situation. It doesn't matter much to Y/N that said caretaker isn't human. They want their vision back so badly. And if that's not possible just to be left alone. Feeling overly emotional over the smallest things and then quickly burnt out. Every little thing is just too much. Being so stressed out and all... their only safe place for them is their dreams. It's where they feel the most normality and comfort. To sleep and to dream means for them to be free. To enjoy the colors and shapes of their dream environmental without any restricts that hold them back.

And that's where they meet Sun during one of their dreams. Not thinking too much of the strange encounter at the start. After all, it's just a dream. There could be much weirder things as a tall animatronic that claims himself to be a dream guardian. It's just odd how often they start to met since their first encounter. But Sun's nice. A very friendly and jolly fellow with an optimistic personallity that's kind of delightful. And Y/N finds himself quickly warming up to their new dream friend. Strolling through the dream realm with Sun and having some silly fun adventures without Y/N needing to worry that they could run into something by accident like in reality. But with time passing by Sun is starting to ask questions about Y/N. Questions that feel like hitting to close to home to them. That they don't want to answer. That they do not want to think about. After all they are hiding into their dreams to escape reality. Not to face their problems. Sun means well, but when he starts prying with his questions Y/N gets defensive and at some point snaps at him. And with the negative emotions flowing over their dream starts to shift. Bringing up more of their hidden fears and tinting it to become more of a nightmare.

Y/N finding themself suddenly alone in an eery nightmarish place. Full of dulled and muddled colors. Their surroundings looking close to a multi layer paper cutout full of symbols that represent their fears and worries which they had tried to desperately deny. The place gives them the shivers. Their shouting out for Sun. But he doesn't seem to be anywhere anymore. So they start running. Searching for him just to fall into a pitch-black pit that feels like it grows deeper and deeper with every second they are into it. Heart rate is going through the roof and panic is spiking up. That's when someone pulls them out. But before they can have a look at them the person they wake up from their nightmare. Next time when Y/N is back to sleep Sun is immediately there and telling them how worried he had been about them. Taking them in their arms and apologizing over and over for upsetting them. At the question where he had disappeared to last time he tells Y/N that he had been looking for them as soon as the dream had been shifting. Aside from that he seems a bit reluctant to tell them more about it. But from that day on Y/N finds themself a bit more often faced with nightmares and feeling as if someone was watching them during those times. Which turns out to be true as he spots a hooded figure at the edge of his vision a few times before finally being able to confront them. Feeling already unsettled and in fight or flight mode Y/N settles for the first option when catching Moon sneaking around them once more. Unbeknownst to them that Moon and Sun are practically one and the same entity. Just that Moon is in charge of their body in the realm of nightmares and Sun in the realm of good dreams.

Moon is more annoyed with Y/N's defensive and stubborn attitude as Sun is. But it might also not help that Moon himself is very tight-lipped instead of trying to explain things. So the two aren't off with the best start. And Sun has some explaining to do when he and Y/N meet the next time. Despite this rough start with Moon Y/N will find out that the more grumpy dream guardian is staying close to them whenever they find themself back in a nightmare instead of hiding like before. Giving them a bit closure with their presence and words and helping them to guide them slowly out of their nightmares back into more peaceful dreams where Sun will take over again.

As things progress there comes a time where Y/N will hardly want to get out of bed anymore. Just wanting to sleep. To go back into this world of dreams where they feel free instead of struggling all day without knowing what for. They are at a rough place. And they find themself wishing to stay longer and longer in their dreams with Sun and Moon. The world where they feel whole.

Of course Sun and Moon notice what is going on. The dreams after all depict the things that are going subconsciously and consciously on in Y/N's mind. It's hard for them if the two bring up their blindness. Or that they have to wake up instead of keep dreamig on forever. To start to live their life again. It's a messy time for them all and a lot of ups and downs. But with those confrontations and growing closer to the two guardians Y/N finds themself also becoming more vulnerable and slowly opening up to them. Admitting that they are scared. That they feel useless and like having lost so many things. Not knowing what to do. It takes a lot of time, patience and comfort from Sun and Moon as well as some firm words to slowly convince Y/N to start working on their fears in the real world. Y/N's dreams during this time are very unstable and easily shifting often between good and nightmarish during the course of one night. But they are slowly trying to work things out.

It takes a lot of them to ask the animatronic that had been assigned to take care of them for help. Not only because Y/N feels pretty shitty for having lashed out verbally in the past for a bunch of minor little things that had got them riled up during this time, but also because it's still hard for them to rely on someone this much. But all their conversations with Sun and Moon have teached them that's okay to ask for help. And so they do. Slowly finding their way back into life. Learning how to cope with their blindness. What tools to use to navigate better through their daily life. Learning that's okay to be vulnerable. It's a little surprise to Y/N when they find out that the name of their caretaker is Eclipse. A very patience and kindhearted animatronic. The round head plate with the triangular rays feels all so familiar under their fingers when he allows them to run their hands over them. Eclipse is the one helping Y/N out in their daily life. Cooking together and giving them all kinds of tips and tricks. Guiding them with his directions and gentle voice. He even brings up things like tactile art, sculpting and other things Y/N hadn't thought of before since they had believed they would have to give up on art completely. But slowly there is new hope found. And with each little achievement Y/N will find themself more independent over time. Finding joy in creation again and even some new things. While they always had liked music they also find a new interest in audiobooks. Even though they enjoy it even more when Eclipse will read for them while they sit together on the couch with a cup of hot chocolate in their hands and leant against him. Since Y/N grows more and more fond towards Eclipse to a point where they even found their more cheerful side back. It comes as a shock when Eclipse is telling them someday that he will soon quit his job as their caretaker. Since he feels that Y/N has grown independent enough again for not needing a full-time caretaker anymore. It leaves a bitter taste for Y/N as they had started to grow so used to having the other around and now feeling as if losing Eclipse again. Questioning the fact if they even had been friends or if they had been just another job for him. But at the same moment they start having those insecure thoughts they feel guilty about them. After all Eclipse had done so, so much for them and they don't want to taint their last time with him with acting like an upset or ungrateful child. So Y/N decides to just tell Eclipse how thankful they feel for everything he has done for them and that they wish him the best. Just for Eclipse to chuckle softly and telling them that he doesn't intend to make this their last meeting. He swiftly explains to Y/N that he only wants to quit the job in order to be able to be their friend without it feeling like he is paid to be nice to them.

Aaaalso some side notes to Sun and Moon. While they are like a dream entity or like I call them the guardians of dream it's not like they can do whatever they want in the dream realm. Besides their transformation they can not just wave their hand and change what happens in a dream. Their influence on the dreams is more subtle and depending if they are able to calm down the dreamer. So it's more like their interactions and words with the dreamer will affect the dreamers thoughts and subconcious and that will influence the dream. So if Sun for an example senses Y/N getting upset he will most of the time swiftly change topics and trying to use distraction as a method to keep the dream nice and peaceful. Asking about things Y/N likes and that feel safe to adress. Since Moon is just there when the dreamer is already in a nightmare his method is more about showing support. Staying close to them as some form of protection. He will take Y/N's hand or later on take them in his arms. Brushing over his back and keep talking with them in a calm voice. Letting them vent about their fears while giving some guidance if needed.

So it's all more about their skills in interacting and subtle manipulation via words (in a more healthy way) as having some magical superpowers.

Ooookay, that was a lot. And I hope it's not too confusing to follow my line of thoughts. There will be a second post entry that focuses more on some sketches that I did for this au and that will show some of the things mentioned here.