#but I! hate! how! everything! turns! out!

[cosmosluckycharms]

Show☆Time

It'll all work out

It had been a couple of weeks since you last had your first true conversation with Dick.

He ended up not being able to make it to your performance (unsurprisingly) and your hope was wavering.

Tonight, you had to perform for a bunch of Gotham prep students.

You were nervous but also excited.

You had been practicing for a while, and everything was working out!

After a couple of minutes of rehearsing, the students started making their way in

You finished getting ready, putting the finishing touches

The curtain opened and you performed.

You noticed how one of your older brothers was in the crowd.

He was technically only older by like 2 years, but he was older.

You were so happy! Someone from your family finally came!

You tried not to break character and wave to him.

After the show, you were cleaning up with your friends.

Much to your surprise, Damian came up to you.

"Damian!" your eyes lit up in joy "Did you like the show?"

"TT it was acceptable." Damian crossed his arms and looked away

"YAAAYY!☆" You hugged him and spun him around playfully much to his dismay.

"Let me down!" Damian got out of your hold and walked away.

Rui put his hand on your shoulder "How about we go out for dinner?"

You and your friends decided to get bat burger to celebrate everything going well

You and Tsukasa were talking about plans for shows, and Nene and Rui had their drinks in their hands watching you both talk loudly about whether or not you guys need another confetti canon.

"I'm telling you, we don't need one more, we already have 2!" Tsukasa says, grabbing one of Ruis's fries

"third time's the charm☆!" you take a bite of Rui's fries as well

"Sorry to interrupt your conversation, but it's getting late, we should start heading out." Nene says, taking a napkin and clearing your cheek free of ketchup.

"Okie dokie!" you get up and clear the table.

After a couple of minutes, you all headed out to the fast food joint, drinks in hand.

"Okay, so you'll accept another plushie parachute but not another confetti cannon? We already have 5 of them!" you argued

"The difference is that confetti cannons are more expensive!" Tsukasa dramatically struck his hand on his chest, making you giggle

"I can afford it!" you were right and everyone knew it. Your monthly allowance was more than some people's yearly salary.

"G-guys quiet down! It's dangerous out here-!" nene tried to quiet you both down.

"Nene's right, we are heading towards an alleyway, it's dark out, and you never know." Rui added

"oh cmon, we are fine!" Tsukasa said, turning to look at Nene, only to hear you yell out

They turned to look at you

You weren't there. You had disappeared into the dark alleyway, and the cup you were holding now spilled onto the ground.

Your friends all looked at each other for a second before running behind you.

They saw you and tried to grab onto you, only for the goons to drag you away swiftly.

Rui ran after you, much to Nene and Tsukasa's dismay.

They ran.

They ran and ran to the manor.

They hated to admit it, but they needed to tell your family.

They'd all been at the manor a couple of times, for projects, performances, just regular hangouts, etc.

And from what you told them about your family, they disliked them.

They rang the doorbell.

Alfred opened the door, preparing for the worst, only to see Nene was out of breath and lying on the floor.

"Madam Nene and Master Tsukasa? What are you both doing here?"

"It's Y/N! She got kidnapped by someone!" Tsukasa said, trying to get Nene up from the ground.

"And Rui ran after them!" Nene added, wiping her dress free of dirt.

Alfred sat them both down and called your family and told them what happened.

After a minute or two, the vigilantes came.

"Why are the heroes here?" Tsukasa asked, looking at them

"Vigilantes." Nene corrected "Plus, they probably didn't have time for Y/N, they never do."

Tsukasa and Nene started bickering, being shut up by Batman clearing his throat

"Do you know where she is now?" Red Robin asked

"Yeah, we have her and Rui's life 360, it says she's in a warehouse." Nene showed her phone to him

"Probably holding her for ransom," Tsukasa added

"You're probably right, she's like, the princess of Gotham." Nene agreed

"you guys stay here and we'll go fetch her," Robin said, grabbing his katana.

"No." Tsukasa crossed his arms.

"No?" Nightwing lifted an eyebrow, looking towards Tsukasa.

"No. We know where she is, and we want to help her. We are coming." Nene argued

After much arguing from both parties, Nene and Tsukasa were allowed to come.

They all got into the batmobile and made their way over to the warehouse.

When they finally got near the warehouse, they had to park far away to not get caught by the cameras.

Nene started slowing down immensely due to a lack of energy and had to be given a piggyback ride by Red Robin.

They all ran in, nene still being carried by Red Robin on his back.

Rui was hiding behind a giant wooden box, calling everyone over to a blindspot cameras couldn't catch.

You were up, hanging by the leg, upside down, hands crossed like a bat.

"Y/N?!" your friends exclaimed in confusion

"Hey guys!" you giggled and waved

"Y/N, we're gonna help you get down," Batman said, already scanning the room for any attackers.

"Y/N!" Rui yelled, grabbing everyone's attention

"Shut it, you going to get us caught!" Red Robin covered Ruis mouth, dropping Nene in the process.

Before Red Robin could apologize to her, Rui continued; "Try to untie the rope! Or use something around you to do it!"

"She's going to fall." Red Hood stated already preparing for the worst

"She won't." Nene states knowingly

Robin points his katana toward her chin "Are you stupid? Of course, she'll fall, she's 35 feet in the air!"

Tsukasa ignored their threats "Do it, now!"

You immediately started undoing the knot, you had no idea what the plan was, but you were gonna freeball it.

You watched as everyone started arguing, causing a commotion.

Some goons started making their way toward them, you needed to do something, fast.

You yelled "Fire! Fire! Some bad guys are coming your way!" you still fumbled around with the knot, it was hurting to be upside down.

Before you knew it, everyone was fighting.

Nene was fighting a goon using her pepper spray, while Robin fighting twogoons who were ready to attack her.

Rui was making his way toward you, ready to catch you in case anything went wrong.

And Red Hood wasn't far behind him, preparing himself as well.

After a few seconds, you managed to untie yourself and were holding on to the rope.

"Don't look down!" Rui yelled

Hearing that, you looked down out of habit.

35 feet above.

You were scared.

You were slipping.

You had to get it over with.

Red Hood held his breath and watched as you jumped, thinking you were gonna plummet down to your death

...only for you to fall like a fairytale princess

This was normal to you, you didn't believe in physics.

You aimed for Rui to catch you, and you missed and landed in Red Hood's arms.

You looked at him with a gleam in your eyes

Red hood! Your favorite vigilante!

Before you could start saying hi to him, you saw in the corner of your eye Nene was struggling.

Sure, she had Robin with her, but she was a little weaker compared to the 3 goons attacking them.

You wriggled out of Red Hood's hold and made your way to the goons.

You could hear him yelling at you to not harm yourself, but you needed to help Nene!

You pulled out a comically sized hammer from out of your performer costume, which was around 3x your height, and started hitting the goons.

Red Robin looked at you in confusion, "Where did you get that from?"

"don't worry about it!" you swung around your hammer like a baton

You heard a gunshot.

You turned to look for where it

Came from and saw the bullet had almost hit Nene.

She was frozen in fear.

You saw the goon about to shoot her again, and you tackled her to push her out of the way.

The bullet ended up hitting the side of your stomach, making Nene's eyes widen.

Tsukasa and Rui made their way toward you and kept you from passing out

You passed out as soon as Nightwing got to you.

Your friends were all ushered out by Nightwing, who was escorting them to the batmobile.

He placed you on a seat, Rui was next to you putting pressure on the wound.

You were passed out from the pain.

As soon as you all got to the manor, Nightwing tried to get them all to go home.

Fortunately, Nightwing gave up on trying to get them all to go home.

Tsukasa was well trained in wounds due to spending some time learning about medical things when he was younger due to being in the hospital a lot when he was growing up, so he helped Nightwing patch you up.

It took you around half an hour to wake up.

You were in a guest room, surrounded by the vigilantes yet again.

Your head was lying on Nene's lap, who was stroking your hair.

There was a tense silence as if everyone was scared to talk.

Nene was the first to speak; "You shouldnt've done that."

"Huh?" You questioned

"You shouldn't have taken that bullet for me, you know." Nene continued stroking your hair, looking a bit sadder

"if I didn't, you would've been hurt. I'd rather me get hurt." You fidgeted with the bracelet on her other arm.

After a while, your friends went home as soon as the vigilantes confirmed everything was okay.

After a moment you realized,

"Where's my family?" You asked, looking toward Batman

"They're, uh, busy. In a meeting." He quickly replied

"Oh, that makes sense. Well, when they get home could you tell them I'm tired? I need to go to bed." You got up and left to go to your room.

As soon as you were out of earshot, the vigilantes conversed with themselves

"..does she not know we're..?" Red Robin asked Batman

"Apparently she doesn't. I thought she did."

The next morning, you were awoken by Dick bringing you breakfast in bed.

"We heard about what happened to you from Nightwing, we are so sorry we couldn't be around to help! We were stuck in a, uh, meeting!" He placed the plate on the bed tray placed on your bed

You were still half asleep when he explained

"Please meet us downstairs when you are done." He walked out, closing the door softly on his way out.

This was unusual. It was a welcome change.

Once you were done, you grabbed your duffle bag covered in charms and pins and made your way downstairs.

You saw everyone sitting down in a circle formation as if it was an intervention.

You sat down, putting the bag next to you.

"What's in the bag?" Tim asked, slightly intimidating.

"My performer outfit! I'm so excited for rehearsal-☆" You were about to talk about your day, but you saw everyone's guilty look.

"About that," Jason put a hand on the back of his neck "you can't perform for a while."

"WHAT?!"

"it's only for a month and a half. Until your wound heals. Doing your flips and shit could reopen it and make it worse. You need to heal." Jason said, trying to comfort you

"but-but-but!" you teared up slightly, you strongly disliked this.

"it'll be a month. No more, no less. You'll be able to perform again." Your father said

"Okay.." you were excited to get that month and a half over with as soon as possible.

oh god this was bad

guys im.trying to learn how to write better trsut

if this seems rushed its causw i dornr know how ro write help

guys trust more bug like angel coming soon🙏

anyways

taglist: @shirp-collector-of-fixations @maybeethan69 @iluvcatzz @tacendxx @ninihrtss @tsxukikami @d3sperate-enuf @staarflowerr @chaoticmoontimetravel @crazycaoticsimp @sugarrush-blush @kaitense1 @ryuushou @weebbuscuit @eyeless-kun @twismare @mirou-x3

[lexiputellas]

Broken Vows

You and Alexia have been together for years.

You dated.

She proposed.

You got married.

Had baby number one.

Then baby number two.

And then, she was gone, just not physically. She was still here, still in the same house, still sharing the same bed, but the Alexia you knew, the Alexia who used to reach for you in the middle of the night, who used to whisper I love you against your skin, who used to wrap her arms around you from behind while you made breakfast—she wasn’t here anymore.

You don’t remember exactly when it started.

At first, you thought it was just a phase, maybe something was going on with the team, maybe she was just exhausted. She was older now, her body had to work harder, her mind had to be sharper—maybe she just didn’t have it in her to give you the same attention as before.

You made excuses for her, over and over. Until eventually, you ran out of them.

It was May 10. The day you got married.

You woke up to an empty bed.

No note. No text.

Just silence.

You checked your phone, it was seven a.m.

You went downstairs, Alexia wasn’t there. Maybe she was planning something, you told yourself. Maybe she had left early to set up a surprise.

You got the girls up, got them dressed, took them to school. You stopped at the supermarket on the way home, deciding that if she had forgotten—if this day no longer meant anything to her—you would still try. You would make dinner, something special, something to bring her back to you.

But as you sat in the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles turned white, you let yourself think it—really think it.

How pathetic your life had become.

You used to have a career. You used to have close friends. You used to have a version of yourself that existed outside of her.

And then, somehow, it became just Alexia.

She needed you home. She needed your support. She needed you to travel to games, to be her anchor, to give her stability. It made her happy. And for a long time, that was enough.

But now?

Now, you walked into a house that was too big, too empty, too silent.

A house full of everything.

And yet, you felt nothing.

Because if you let yourself feel something—really feel it—you would break.

And you couldn’t afford that. You were supposed to be strong.

That night, Alexia came home at eleven.

You heard the door click shut, the familiar sound of keys hitting the dish by the entrance.

You didn’t move.

Dinner sat untouched on the counter, long gone cold. The girls had eaten hours ago. You had read to them, tucked them in, kissed their foreheads when they asked where mamá was.

You had lied. Told them she was working late. That she would see them in the morning. That she loved them, and maybe that last part was still true. Maybe.

You sat curled on the couch, a half-empty wine glass dangling from your fingers, watching the doorway as she stepped inside.

She didn’t look at you. Didn’t acknowledge you.

Just toed off her shoes, stretched her neck, and walked past you like a ghost drifting through walls.

You stayed still, your grip tightening around the glass.

It used to be different.

She used to come home and find you, kiss you before doing anything else. She used to make it seem like being home, with you, was the thing that kept her steady.

Now, you were just part of the furniture.

You let out a slow breath and looked at the photos on the TV stand, the ones you had stopped dusting as often because you hated being reminded.

Iris’s first birthday.

You and Alexia, beaming, so in love, so happy.

And now? Now you sat alone in a house that felt too big, drowning in silence, sipping wine just to feel something.

You sighed, setting your glass down before dragging yourself upstairs.

The hallway was quiet. The girls’ door was cracked open just enough for you to peek inside, to see them breathing softly in their beds.

You lingered there for a moment before continuing down the hall.

Your bedroom sat at the end, the bedding was smooth, untouched, the Pratesi sheets perfectly in place.

Before Alexia, you didn’t care what high-thread-count cotton percale and sateen were. But you had learned. You had learned how to be the person she needed, the person who smoothed out wrinkles and knew how to set a table and made sure her life was seamless.

You stepped inside, and she was there, in the closet, changing.

She looked perfect, as always.

Time hadn’t touched her the way it had touched you.

You sat on the edge of the bed, catching your own reflection in the mirror. You weren’t the same.

Your breasts weren’t as full, your stomach wasn’t as flat. The fine lines on your face were only hidden by Botox, by filler, by the desperate need to hold onto something slipping through your fingers.

Maybe she had found someone younger. Someone prettier. The thought made you swallow hard, your nails digging into your palms.

Alexia stepped out of the closet, placing her phone on the nightstand. She didn’t say anything. Didn’t look at you.

And you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Why did you come home so late?” you asked softly. “The girls missed you at dinner.”

She turned to you then, finally meeting your gaze.

And then, just as quickly, she softened.

Her hands cupped your face, her thumbs brushing over your cheekbones.

“Sorry, baby,” she murmured. “I was at the gym with the physio until late.”

Then she kissed you.

And for a second, just a second, you let yourself sink into it.

It had been so long since she kissed you like this.

But it didn’t feel like her.

It didn’t feel like the Alexia you had fallen in love with.

She smelled different. She felt different. Like someone you could touch but never quite reach.

Your hands found her wrists, fingers curling around them.

“We have a gym at home,” you whispered. “Why did you have to stay there?”

Her jaw tensed.

“Don’t start now,” she said. “You know it’s different.”

Before you could respond, she kissed you again.

Harder.

Desperate.

Like she needed to silence you.

Her hands moved, unbuttoning your blouse with ease, pushing the fabric off your shoulders.

This was easier than asking the questions you didn’t want to know the answers to.

She pushed you onto the bed, her body pressing into yours.

Her hands were firm, practiced, moving across your skin with the same familiarity as always. But there was something mechanical about it, something detached.

She knew your body like a map, but tonight, she wasn’t exploring, she was just following directions.

She reached for the nightstand, her breath warm against your collarbone, her fingers working quickly.

You knew what was coming. You knew.

And still, you let her.

Because this was the only time she touched you anymore.

She moved inside you, slow at first, then faster, rougher.

Your body reacted out of instinct, your back arching, your breath catching. But it wasn’t her you felt.

It was the distance.

It was the realization that no matter how close she got, no matter how deep she was inside you, she was still so far away.

Her lips ghosted over your shoulder, her hands gripping your hips like she owned you.

And then, you felt it.

Not her.

The tears slipping down your face.

Because nothing had ever felt more like an ending than this.

[venusalexian]

solet • let me do this for you

part 1

barça femení x teen!reader, alexia putellas x teen!reader

in which you finally let someone in, and Alexia accepts that she’ll be having a bigger role in your life than she first expected

Ale had driven you to the grounds this morning, as she tends to do now if she has a free day when you have a game. You were so excited for this game. Your grandpa had recuperated well from his surgery, even if he now needed some extra care, and Ale’s presence in your life had become a constant. You couldn’t believe this was your life now.

You went into the game eager to win, to score, to lead. By half time, you had scored once and provided an assist. You were on fire, but everything changed when you stepped into the tunnel and Ale was waiting for you, a worried frown in her face.

“Solet, I need you to stay calm while I tell you this, okay?.” She said. “Your neighbor called, they’ve had to take your grandma into the hospital because she fainted. They firmly believe she’s going to be okay. I will drive you to the hospital right now if that’s what you want.” You can’t believe she’s even doubting it. There is no way you’re making it back out into the pitch now.

“Please Ale, let’s go.” You rush to the locker room to get your things and run all the way to Ale’s car, impatient.

“It’s all gonna be okay, I promise.” Ale says as she lays her free hand on your arm, the other on the steering wheel.

You really want to believe her, but you don’t really think she has the ability to fulfill this one. You don’t respond. You just lay your head against the window and let its coldness ground you to reality.

As soon as you get to the waiting room you make a beeline for your grandfather, who sits in a corner. He’s recuperated from his surgery, but he still can’t stand for long periods of time and needs help remembering to take his meds.  You break down as soon as you’re in his arms.

”Oh, mi niña, everything’s gonna be okay. She was awake when they got her into the ambulance. It was just a big scare, but she’s going to be okay.”

You nod against his chest but don’t detach from his hold. You won’t believe it until you see her with your own eyes and doctors confirm it, but you appreciate the comfort of his words. You turn a bit to look to your left. Ale is talking with your neighbor. She has her capitana face on. That relaxes you further.

You hate how unhelpful you’re being. You should be more composed, asking questions, making sure your grandpa is also okay, planning for any contingencies that might come from this incident. But you can only cling, and cry, like a child. So you’re happy to see that Ale has taken control of the situation, because at least somebody has. You’ve been trusting her with more of yourself and your life over the past months, and you’re so, so glad about it now. She looks over at you, and you know she understands what it means to you. The guilt of your impotence stays, but the pressure eases and you let yourself just fall.

Alexia is looking at you and seeing a kid. A strong, resilient kid. But a kid. So she takes charge, and she accepts that caring for you is coming more naturally to her every day. And as she waits with you for news about your grandma, she gradually also accepts the role she wants to play in your life. More than she’d let herself in the past, more than she’s ever said out loud.

“So… Why are the kids talking about you adopting another kid?” Marta approached Alexia with a massive smirk at the end of training.

“Yeah Ale, I thought you’d at least talk to me before you got a kid outside of this team.” Oh, Irene was having too much fun with this conversation.

“First of all, there is no another, I don’t have any kids, period.” A chorus of ‘hey’ and ‘rude’ was heard from the other side of the room, most notably (and loudest) by Vicky and Jana. Alexia just rolled her eyes. Apparently, the whole team was a part of the conversation now. “And secondly, I have not adopted a kid. I’m just… mentoring.”

“Mentoring? Is that what they call it now? Mentoring is driving a kid to and from practice?” Jana continued teasing her.

Alexia had gotten into the habit of driving you when she could especially to and from late night practices, thinking that it was much too late for you to be out taking public transportation.

“Or staying to watch those practices?” followed Sydney, who’s joking character was coming more and more out as she became more comfortable with the first team.

Now, Alexia knew how to perfectly justify this one.

“I am captain of this team, I have a duty to check in with the B team and source for talent.” she answered, feeling smug.

“Oh, and is having Sunday lunch with her and her family a form of recruitment?” added Vicky, who had become closer with the teen and had taken to chatting with her on occasion.

Alexia actually didn’t know how to respond to this one. She had taken your grandmother’s invitation a couple of time when you had Sunday morning games and she had a free weekend. She loved getting to know you more by spending time with you and your grandparents. And although she thought you pressured yourself too much, she saw herself reflected in your protectiveness, diligence and sense of responsibility toward your family and team.

“Better yet. Why did your girlfriend text me asking if I could give her more information about the kid because she wants to make a good impression when you bring her over for Sunday dinner at your mom’s this weekend?” added Ingrid.

Alexia muttered “traitor” as the locking room erupted in chaos. Everyone knows how much it means for their protective and family-oriented captain to introduce people to her family.

“Okay, enough. I care about her, yes. And she doesn’t have too many people on her corner, so I decided to become one.”

Everyone softened at that, understanding the importance and vulnerability of the statement.

“Now, no more social chit-chat about my life or you’re all running three times as much before practice.”

The soft expressions were replaced with groans, complaints and the occasional soft object thrown at her. Oh how she loves her fútbol family.

Your neighbor has had to leave; she has her own family to care for. So it’s just you, your grandpa, and Ale. Each sitting on a seat to your side. The doctor comes out after a half hour of waiting. The good news is that she’s okay, she’s awake, and there is nothing life-threatening. It feels like a toll has been lifted off your shoulders. But then he continues: it was a big fall, a symptom of an underlying heart condition. It means more medication and the possibility for this to happen again or other bad things. You feel dizzy again. You only hear bits and pieces of the rest: needs more monitorization, will need more constant care for a couple of weeks, she’s gonna stay overnight, you’ll be able to see her soon. You cling to the last part to stay in touch with reality.

Ale sees you drowning, so she asks, “Do you trust me to help, to take over now and help you through this? Let me do this for you?”

You nod. You need her to. You don’t even have any space in your worrying to overthink what this means or why she’s willing to do all this for you. You need her now, and the rest will come when everything’s more calm.

“I’m gonna make a few calls, okay? Can I tell a couple of people what is going on? The girls, mami and Olga are all worried. I won’t say much, just a quick update, okay?”

You nod again. You haven’t uttered a word since you got into Ale’s car. You can’t. So when she nods back, you hide your face in your grandpa’s chest again. You try to distract yourself with happier memories until you can see your grandma again. Thinking of her still hurts, so you focus on your team, your friends, and the people in Ale’s life you’ve met in the past weeks.

You felt dizzy from anticipation. You kept bouncing your leg in the passenger seat, and checking your outfit on the rear-view mirror. Ale noticed your fidgeting and laid her free hand on your shoulder.

“Are you nervous?” her eyes didn’t stray from the road but you noticed her half-grimace. Ale is not the best at not asking obvious questions, but you know it’s because she doesn’t know how to start the conversation otherwise.

“Yeah, I just…” you also grimaced, feeling like a little kid. “I want them to like me.” you mumbled, embarrassed.

“Oh, solet. They will. Mami is a natural caretaker, she’ll take you under her wing immediately. And Alba and Olga will just love having one more person to team up with against me.” Ale rolled her eyes, fondly.

She exudes a different type of softness when she talks about the women in her life, even when she fakes being annoyed at their antics. Her response calmed you, though.

Ale was absolutely right, of course.

As soon as you entered Ale’s home, her mom was giving you a massive hug and when she pulled away, she told you how beautiful you are and that she was really excited to meet you. You were blushing again. She hugged her daughter next, and then motioned for you both to go to the living room while she finished cooking. You offered to help, and you were rewarded with a wide smile and a pinch to your cheek. Ale got a quip that “she ought to keep her instead of her daughters if she keeps this helpfulness up”.

You’re still flushed when you reached the living room with Ale to find her sister and girlfriend sitting at the table in conversation. They stood up when you entered the room. Her sister moved to you, hugged you and introduced herself. You opened your mouth to do the same but she interrupted before you could utter a word.

“Oh, I know who you are. Ale won’t shut up about you.” You both turned to her, but she was too busy kissing her girlfriend to notice. Alba covered your eyes and shouted. “Women, not in front of the kid!”

You smiled as Alba moved away her hand and smiled back at you, all nerves forgotten by now, replaced by warmth. Ale and Olga were walking towards you both now, Ale’s hand on the small of her back. Olga hugged you, and her smile was just as warm and soft as Ale’s. 

“Yeah, Ale hasn’t shut up about you. We’re all really excited to meet her mini-me.” And there you were, blushing again. Had Ale really referred to you like that? Before you could ask, Ale’s mom called the four of you to finishing setting up as dinner was ready.

Conversation during dinner flowed. Ale was right, you had nothing to worry about and the night went perfectly. They all asked about you, eager to get to know you better. Alba and Olga did use your presence to rile Ale up. They shared embarrassing stories as she blushed and covered her face.

“I’ll lose my tough captain facade, stop.”

“You never had one to begin with, Ale”

By the time dinner ends, you couldn’t even believe you had been so nervous to meet them. Ale and Olga offered to drive you home. As you and Olga waited for Ale to finalize some arrangement with her mom, she put her arm around you, as the night had unexpectedly cooled and neither of you had come dressed for it. You basked in the comfort of her warmth and touch.

“I’m so glad Ale brough you over.” You looked up to the older woman, her smile exactly like Ale’s. “She is right, you know? You’re such a solet. I’m so glad you have each other.” Before you could respond, Ale was ushering you both inside the car and the motion of the road and the fullness from dinner lulled you to sleep. You miss their smile at your sleeping form, and their unspoken understanding of their care for you.

By the time Alexia finishes texting and calling, she has a plan. Alexia does well with plans, likes to prepare for things. But she has to talk to your grandparents first, and she doesn’t know how that conversation is going to go. Alexia is also quick on her feet, though, and works with what’s given. Knows how to fight for what she thinks is right.

It doesn't take long for a nurse to come by and lead the three of you to your grandma’s room. You cry again when you see she’s okay. You can’t cling to her like you did with your grandpa, so you’re content to sit by her side and hold her hand while she asks questions about the game, and you do your best to respond to her. Your words are stilted, but Ale and your grandpa smile because it’s the most you’ve spoken in hours.

After some more assurances, your grandma convinces you to go down to the cafeteria with your grandpa to have dinner. You’re hesitant to comply, but both her and Ale reassure you and don’t accept no for an answer. You give them one last glance to reassure yourself everything is okay befor eyou leave the room.

Alexia is nervous to be left alone with your grandma. She needs to start the conversation she knows is coming and despite the encouragement from her family, she isn’t sure to be ready for it. She doesn’t have to be, though, because your grandma beats her to it.

“She needs you.” There’s a heavy silence that follows; Alexia doesn’t know how to respond.

“She needs you because she’s a kid but doesn’t accept it. We both know that this incident means that both I and my husband need more help than she should be burdened by. She’s stretched thin enough, she already does too much. We want her to have fun, be a kid, a student, a footballer. Not a nurse, or a caretaker. She can’t do that if she’s constantly worried about us. And I know you know all this.”

Alexia stands seriously and silently and measures her words before speaking. She knows what’s next, but this is not her family, she doesn’t want to overstep. But if directly asked for her input, she’ll do it. She’ll take care of everything. For you. 

“I do, yeah.”

“We need that kind of help but it can’t come from her. So will you help? I’ve seen you grow closer to her, she admires you so much, relishes your attention and care. If we ask you for it, if she agrees, are you ready for this?”

Alexia doesn’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

She can see the tension leave your grandma.

“Good. Now we can talk specifics. What’s your plan? Tell me and then we can tell her together.”

In the morning after you, Ale and your grandpa went home to sleep –Ale taking the couch even if you insisted on her taking the bed–, it’s Ale also who drives back to the hospital and brings your grandma home when she’s released. All four of you sit in the living room and when you try to fuss over your grandma, all three of them reassure you she’s okay.

“Mi vida, we have something to discuss.” Your grandma starts, and you squirm, uncomfortable at being out of loop.

“Alexia and us have a proposal for you, mi niña. We’ll do only what you want us to, but we think this is the best for all of us, and especially you.” You don’t respond to your grandpa, just nod, the anticipation driving you crazy. Your grandma takes over the conversation again.

“We love you so much, mi vida. We love how kind you are, how responsible, and how much you care for us. But your grandpa and I need more help, and we want you to not be burdened by it.” You’re about to protest –they’re not a burden, would never be, you love them and you’ll always care for them–but Ale stops you.

“Ssh, solet, listen to what we have to say first, okay?” You nod again instead of responding.

“So remember when I made a few calls yesterday at the hospital? I set up a couple of things. First, there is a home-care medical team that will be taking care of your grandparents from now on. They’re the best, but we still get to pick who’s going to be coming to stay with them for continued care. You’ll be part of that decision too.”

You exhale, thankful that Ale took over arranging this service. Deep down, you know that even if you would have tried your hardest, your grandparents need specialized care you wouldn’t be able to provide.

“And we also thought something else, but we’ll only do this if you want to and completely at your pace.” You become uneasy again at their own nervous expressions.

“Mi vida, we’ve thought that you spend so much time moving from here to the city, and it’s not benefitting you in your studies, or your football career, so Alexia kindly offered an arrangement that we think will work for all of us.”

“Solet, I’d like it if you moved in with me.” There is nothing but shock in your expression now. You have no idea how to respond, this being the last thing you expected from this conversation.

“We were thinking you could stay with me over the week, so you can go to a school that is more understanding of your football career, like many of your teammates, and be closer to the training grounds. You’ll come back to stay over weekends with your grandparents, so you’ll still see them a lot. And you can obvious tell me anytime you wanna be with them, and we’ll make it work so you never feel detached.”

You stop her nervous rambling with an obvious question, still in shock.

“You really want me to move in with you? Are you sure?”

Her smile is so, so soft again. Her eyes so kind, but also somewhat exasperated, she can’t believe you don’t understand how much she cares for you yet.

“Yes, solet. And before you ask. Yes, I’ve talked to Olga, she also thinks this is good. She’s in and out of the house these days because of work in Madrid so she thinks this is actually good for us both, apparently I don’t struck her as someone who lives well alone.” She rolls her eyes when she shares that part, but she’s still smiling.

“And, avis, you think this is best for all of us? Because I’ll still miss you a lot, but you’re right that I’ve been struggling these days.”–you finally admit–“And I guess if there’s a professional caring for you here and I can call you anytime and come often, then, I guess, it seems like a good solution to me too.”

All three of them smile widely at you, glad that you see the same things they do.

“Yes, mi niña, we do. And this is always your home, you can be here as much as you want to.”

“Okay” You say, and it feels definitive, the start of something.

—

an:

so here’s the second part of solet! it took me a bit longer than expected but I wanted to do a good job at setting everything up and it made it longer than i initially expected.

this is the end of setting up the arc, and stories from now on will be just instances of solet’s life :)

I already have some ideas drafted, but I’m super eager to get requests and asks about this world of what kind of things you’d like to see from solet’s life.

thank you for reading!

xoxo, a.c.

[chaosartic]

Throw away the caution! | LN4

word count: roughly 2k

warnings: overprotective brother Max Fewtrell, mutual pinning (a bit), Oscar is confused most of the time, bad writing (yes it requires a warning)

summary: Lando (annoyingly) has a crush on non other than his best friends younger sister, Y/n Fewtrell. It was his well kept secret. Why? Because he knows how overprotective Max is of you. What happens when Carlos and Oscar find out about it? Will a drunken night out celebrating a race weekend change their relationship?

a/n: Originally this was supposed to be a one shot but I’m turning this into a mini series. They’re probably going to be three parts. Please note that english is not my first language, I’m sorry for any mistakes in advance.

Lando and Max have been through a lot together as long as both of them can remember. And for just as long Lando has known y/n, Max slightly younger sister. What started as a harmless friendship slowly turned into something more, at least in Landos eyes.

It wasn’t until he was a teenager that he admitted his feelings to himself. He kept them hidden and a secret from everyone. At first he thought that they’re just temporary. The girl he used to climb trees with and joke around for hours grew into a beautiful young lady after all. But the feelings only grew stronger.

Lando was well into his twenties when he talked to someone about his crush, it was no other than his friend and ex teammate, Carlos Sainz. At first he tried to talk Lando into admitting his feelings to you but that was without success. Carlos tried to figure out if the feelings are both sided but he simply didn’t see the Fewtrell siblings enough for that.

He was the silent emotional support through everything after that, trying to get them together alone as much as possible without Max noticing. After all, Carlos didn't know how he would react to the news of his childhood friend loving his younger sister. There were a few close calls in the past but as far as anyone was concerned neither Max nor y/n knew about Landos feelings.

If anyone would ask him why he doesn’t confess his answer would probably be along the lines of wanting to concentrate on his career first. In truth he was scared of your rejection and your brother's disappointment. He and Max are friends after all and it might feel like some sort of betrayal to the older Brit.

Lando was currently in London since he had to be back at the MTC for his pre-season training and meetings. He loved being in his home country even if that meant that winter break was over. It means that he gets to spend time with his friends. Like this evening for example.

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You hate being late. It wasn't even your fault that a meeting with your boss ran over the scheduled time or that traffic today was worse than the past few days. You were meeting up with your brother, childhood friend and his teammate. And while Max assured you that your late arrival wouldn’t be a problem, anxiety and guilt still washed over you. You navigate your car without a problem down the familiar street to your brother's appartement. The night was cold but with a clear sky, a rare occurrence.

“You know you don’t have to get me anything when you come around.” Max greets you at the door as soon as he sees the flowers clutched in your hand. “Yeah yeah” you wave him off. The apartment was quiet, too quiet for the normal chaos that erupts when Lando and Max are together.

Max notices your confusion. “They got caught up with work stuff too. That’s why I told you not to worry.” He grabs the flowers ready to put them into an improvised vase while adding, “they should be here any minute though.”

“You could’ve added that little detail in your sentence,” you sternly joke with him. He pulls you into his arms mumbling something about next time he will. You missed this, the familiar feeling of being in your brother's arms. Work has been hell for you recently and you didn't get to spend much time with your family or friends. That’s why you didn't think twice about coming around tonight to spend a relaxing evening with your brother and an old friend of yours, Lando.

Before you could do anything else the doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of the McLaren drivers. “I’ve got it,” you said to Max before walking towards the door. When you opened it, you were a bit surprised when you saw only Oscar standing there. “Hey Oscar. Where is Lando?” you ask him after you let him into the flat. “Oh, he’s still parking the car or something,” Oscar said, “he’ll be here shortly.” You nodded your head at his explanation, softly closing the door behind him. You didn’t lock it though so Lando could get in easier.

Max came out of the kitchen to greet Oscar. While the two aren’t that close they still get along well, spending their evenings occasionally in bigger groups together. The Aussi was quickly accepted into the little group of you three after he joined Lando as his new teammate two years ago. You went back into the kitchen grabbing drinks for everyone while the boys already chatted about racing. The table was set, the ordered food waiting on the counter. There is only one thing missing now.

You still had a slightly anxious feeling that you couldn't shake off. Maybe it was because you would spend the evening in such close proximity to Lando. You haven’t said it to anyone out loud but you knew what the butterflies in your stomach meant. While you didn’t want to admit it to yourself just yet, you couldn’t hide it anymore. You were crushing hard and of course that person has to be your brother’s best friend.

“Hey mate”, Landos voice rans out through the apartment. He came into the kitchen with a wide smile, dimples showing on full display. He quickly pulled each of you into his arms as a greeting. His arms lingered around you for a bit longer, both of you silently enjoying the feeling. “Come on guys, the food is still warm.” Max called out while putting the boxes in the middle of the table. His voice was a bit rougher than usual, almost like he was hiding his emotions. You didn't notice it nor did Lando. Oscar however did notice it and for a millisecond a confused look crossed his face. It was gone before anyone could really notice it.

The four of you sat down at the table, a comfortable silence washing over the room. You sit next to your brother across from Lando. You noticed him looking at you a few times out of the corner of your eye. The butterflies in your stomach were running wild, but you hoped that it didn’t show. As much as you like the idea of being together with the Brit, you knew that it wouldn’t be a good idea. Not only because of his career but also because of your brother. You and Max were close and you know his overprotective sides when it comes to the topic of boys being around you. He was always a bit worried about them, maybe given the fact that he raced professionally. It didn't help that you know most of the formula one grid. He was scared of someone using you for your connections, he would not mention this fear though.

You aren't sure how Max would react to the news of you crushing on his best friend nor did you want to find out anytime soon. You talked about everything over dinner; racing, the upcoming season, video games and just what everybody did during the break. You remembered about a year ago when you were all sitting at the same table. Oscar was still new to the group and quite shy, but he opened up which was good to see.

“All right, how about we talk about something different than just racing,” you said. “Not everybody’s life depends on it.” You jokingly added, knowing that the boys love nothing more than to talk about it, especially when they were off for a few weeks. At some point the conversation shifts, now the talk was all about. testing and the upcoming season. “I have a question guys,” Lando suddenly said. His cheeks are a bit pink, unusually so. Your eyes looked over to Oscar slightly, he looked just as confused as you felt. It almost seems like Lando was shy about something perhaps not knowing what to do with the situation. “Do you have anything planned during the weekend when the season starts?” He finally blurted out after a longer pause.

“Not that I could think of,” you replied, looking at your brother. He also shook his head no. “Why do you ask?” “How about you come to watch it?” It was actually Oscar who voiced the question, his eyes always flickering up to you. It was almost like he was saving Lando from something, maybe embarrassment. “For sure,” Max answered quickly, not having to really think about it. The three men turn their heads to you waiting for your answer. “I’m not sure if I can get time off,” you said. “And also don’t exactly have the money for this trip.” You said shyly.

“Sweetheart, do you really think you have to pay?” Lando asked. You look at him shocked, did he really just say that? “I got it covered. Don’t worry about that.” He added quickly. Maybe it was your imagination, but he looked a bit embarrassed about saying it. Max looked at his best friend, confusion all over his features, shaking his head as if he was having a silent conversation with himself.

“Please y/n, it would mean the world for both of us,” Lando added, pointing at him and Oscar. He was almost begging at this point. You didn’t know why it was so important for him to have you there. A small part if you wanted to believe that it is because he also had a crush on you. But honestly those were unrealistic expectations. No, Lando could never have a crush on you. That’s for sure.

“Okay okay,” you gave in with a small smile. “I’ll see if I can get a few days off so I can join you in Australia,”you said. You see from the corner of your eyes that your brother has a sour look on his face again. An uneasy feeling settles in your stomach. ”Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m done.“ You try to ignore the look on Maxs face by changing the topic.You took both plates and put them into the dishwasher. You miss the way Oscar looks at both Max and Lando. Ever since this conversation started he has had a slightly confused look on his face, not that you noticed.

It was only a few days after that night when your request for the time off was accepted. That night you spend an hour or maybe two on FaceTime with Lando. He was back in Monaco preparing for the testing in Bahrain. It may have been a few days since that call but you can still see the way he smiled when you shared the news. It was one of the best things ever.

You already talked with Max about when you were leaving to Down Under. While you were more than excited to be in the paddock, see the race and talk to some of the drivers that you know, you couldn’t shake off this weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. It felt like this little trip would change everything but you weren’t sure why. Maybe it was because recently you and Lando have talked almost every night, intensifying your crush on the curly haired man. And even though you were nervous you couldn’t wait to see him in person again in Australia.

part 2 (coming soon)

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I hope you enjoy it! Any feedback is appreciated!

Requests are open! Want to be added to the taglist? Feel free to reach out.

[whambambatfam]

Webs of a Wing

Chapter 3

It's scrunkly time.

I hope you guys like it, I wasn't so sure about this one. T∆T

Reader ages 12 - 15

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Not long after Grayson's departure from the manor... He came along, Jason Todd.

Coming in, rough around the edges, and bringing joy to the hollow halls. Ones you've roamed like a ghost on your own for years. He's got more adolescent defiance than your whole clique put together. The type of energy that shook up the old bones of this old house and awakened hope in your heart once again.

This was the kid's first time having a solid roof over his head, warm bed to sleep in, decent food to eat and people to worry about him, a real home. Unlike Bruce, who couldn't come to terms with your relations or Dick, who felt threatened by it. Jason was loud and clear in his intentions, he wanted to make the most of his new family. Including you.

A boy with black hair, blue eyes, and a stocky build for a twelve year old stands besides Alfred. “Master Jason will be living with us in the manor. He'll be a brother of sorts to you, just as Master Dick.” but you didn't want this to be like your and Dick's unstable relationship.

Alfred smiled at the determination set on your face as you gave him your name, “It's nice to meet you.” your hand quickly outstretched to the boy, “Uh, I hope.. we can be.. friends?”

Jason's face lights up your offer, taking your hand in his, “Yeah, friends. ‘Never had a sibling before.” Tugging you closer, his hand in yours pulls you along, “Come on, show me around.”

From then on, your days spent with only Alfred for company had a new, refreshing addition. 

Alfred has allowed the two of you to start cooking your own breakfast unsupervised. Given that you don't burn the kitchen down. “How many times have you done this?” Jason huffs as he picks egg shells from the bowl he's whisking. They slip through the tongs of the fork as he scrapes them along the side.

Pouring your egg mixture into the frying pan, you smile teasingly at him. “Only a few.” You take the bowl from his frustrated hands, “Try this, it might be more your speed.”

He accepts the wrapped loaf of bread with a scowl. Pulling out the toaster with a grumble, “I'm not an idiot, I know how to fend for myself.” 

“I never said you were. I've seen you do all kinds of stuff.” You move to the sink, wetting your fingers to pluck the last bits from the bowl. “

Jason turns away, stuffing four slices into the double toaster. “So it's just cooking that i suck at?” He drops his head on the counter, arms crossing as he grumbles.

Returning to the stove, you move your own cooking egg to the side. “No! You're the best at, like, everything you do.” Tipping the contents into the pan it sizzles to life again. “A few shells won't change that.”

There's pink clinging to his ears at your praise, “I'm not good at everything..”

“Oh my- obviously!”

“What!?” Sputtering, he whips his head around.

“It's bruning!” Yanking the plug from the toaster, the blackened squares pop up together. Three out of the four of them come out half charred. 

“Tha-that doesn't count.” The heat creeping up his neck flushes his face. “You distracted me!” 

“Uhuh, yeah.” You slide the omelet onto a plate for Jason as he replaces the burnt bread. “Your eggs are done.”

Jason is quick to deflect the old butler's inquiries on the smell of burnt bread. You'd hate to have your kitchen privileges revoked. When you offer to teach him how to crack eggs and use the toaster, he tells you to shut up with an obscured smile.

You were happy. Even when the newest boy wonder was busy training his nights away with the Bat. Talking about Bruce, spending time with him, connecting with him like you never could. Even when Dick started to hang around again. Coming to the manor, eventually joining the occasional patrol. Now Nightwing, protector of Blüd Haven. Brand new spandex, stupid big collar, and everything.

It didn't hurt to see him appear to come around slowly to his successor. Eventually accepting his replacement with relative ease. When you would always just be a thorn in his side, locked in a one-sided fight for first.

"You know how to fight, right?" The two of you were sitting outside. It was as muggy as Gotham usually is but it felt nice to be out.

He snorts, tossing a stone hard across the water. "Of course. Can't get by on the streets without." The small rock hops only twice before sinking.

Swiping a smooth stone from the shoreline, you run your finger along it, inspecting each divet and groove. "Can you.. teach me?" 

Sure, you were trained in martial arts but, being on the mat differs from being on the street. While your work in Gymnastics has helped you slip through and run when need be. You knew you might have to fight back one day. Maybe you wanted to.

There's a huff of exasperation behind you "Yeah, no, not happening." 

Dick Grayson's approach was silent until he wanted you to know he was there. Arms crossed and face already set in an unimpressed look.

“What?!" Jason jumps to his feet, making his way swiftly over, "I could totally do it!" 

"Then what?" With a raise of his brow, he scoffs, "Get grounded forever?" 

"It's not like I'm gonna take them-" Dick cuts him off with a raised hand.

"Stop, Jay. You're only going to get the both of you in trouble." The older siblings' hands make their way to his hips.

Tossing your rock across a water's surface, it skips along three times before sinking. “I'm not exactly new to it.”

You're almost surprised when Dick actually responds. "I'm sorry, kid. Bruce isn't going to be happy about it either.” 

As if he would even notice. "You wouldn't have to be so.. worried if I could be taught to defend myself.” Sighing in irritation, you turn your gaze back to the water.

“You don't need to, we can protect you just fine." Dick steps up behind you, patting your head. The contact catches your breath painfully and you have to fight the urge to swat it away. "And if you really don't want anyone to worry. Stay home. Stay safe." Stay out of the way. 

When he finally leaves, you feel like you can breathe again. Jason's abrupt grasp pulls your attention back to him, "Dickie and the old man can blow smoke." His grin was brighter than the sun, his hand clasping yours as he pulled you to your feet, "Let's go."

You can't fight the pull at your own lips, feet stumbling to catch up to his sudden pace. "Right behind you."

No, it didn't hurt. Because you won't let it, because, despite it all, he always came back to you. 

After packing your schedule with martial arts training Mondays and Wednesday before stitch work and knitting circle with Alfred. Gwen decides to join your gymnastics, her studies leaving her sitting at a desk too long. Tuesdays you drag both girls to self defense classes, you've seen enough shit go down with the birds. Also, it's Gotham, they should be better equipped to handle themselves. Your photos with Mj for the paper is due Thursday morning in time for the paper to come out on Friday. That leaves the weekend up for grabs. This one in particular was claimed by both your friends and brother.

“Whatcha readin’?” 

Jason jolts in his seat, slapping his hand over his mouth to subjugate any embarrassing noises. With a bark of your name he whips around to find you snickering over his shoulder. 

Cerulean eyes narrow as he grumbles at you. “How do you do that.. it's unnatural.” 

It was unnatural to he who trains under the Bat. You used to hate being unintentionally sneaking. Mj and Gwen can pick you out of a crowd of clones, there's no way you could sneak up on either of them. But, other people? Shrieking when they finally realized you were in the same room as them. That only made you feel even more invisible, and not in the ways you wanted.

You scoff, “That's dramatic.” Now, with Jason, you can finally get a laugh from it. Settling down on the couch beside him, you recognize the book in his hand, “Hey, that's one of mine!”

Swiping it away before you have the chance to snatch it, “Ha! Shouldn't have left it out.” he lifts the novella over his head, tongue stuck out at you.

“It was in my room, on my bed.” You huff, jumping for it as he stands, holding it over your head. 

“Yeah, it was, wasn't it?” Jason smirks, waving the book just out of reach, “Y'know, you actually have taste. Sometimes.”

“Give it back!" Grabbing his forearm you try pulling it down but do better at lifting yourself off the ground.

"I'm almost done." He chuckles into his fist at your frantic cat like swiping.

"Wow. So, this is the totally cool brother you've been talking about?” At the sound of a new voice, he snaps his attention to Mj. Arms crossed as she leaned against the archway to the living room.

“Dunno.. Sounds like a bully to me.” Gwen chimes in coming up besides her. She mirrors Mjs stance, doubling the judgemental

The book falls from Jason's hands and you catch it. Tucking it away safely under your arm.“Wha- uh, no! I am totally cool, ask them!” Jason whips around to hiss at you, face flushed with mortification, “Why didn't you tell me you were bringing your friends over?”

You roll your eyes, “I did. That's, like, the one thing we talked about before school this morning.” You can just barely hear the strained ‘Oooooh, right.’ as he mumbled something about a long night under his breath. Of course, he tries to make a ‘smooth’ recovery only to be blasted by your friends. You do, eventually, come to his defense.

It's nice to bring these two sides of yourself together like this. Jason may make an ass of himself but at least he knows how to not lose face completely. It makes you proud when, at the end of their stay, they sing his praises. Insisting on involving him again in their next visit to the manor. 

He came home, he sought you out, he wanted that connection you craved. The one thing you wanted, for one of them to look away from the stage of their busy lives and find you there. Waiting at home, creating that solace from a bustling world beyond these solid walls.

Creeping your door shut, you slide the lock closed. Having someone walk in on you was never a worry before. Now, whether it be doing homework together, exchanging books, deciding anything, general complaining and gossip, avoiding chores, especially hiding from Bruce and occasionally just to annoy you. Your brother struts in whenever the whim strikes him. The prick.. Shuffling to the bed, you land on it heavily alongside your bookbag. Books, pencils, and such escape their confines, your camera ferried out on top of the pile.

With a stretch and sigh, you get ready to nip pick. Three folders, each with a plethora of candids, articles, and notes. One in particular is becoming just a smidge overcrowded. Threatening to spill its contents every time it's jostled a bit too much.

What can you say? Your brother serves more than just justice in that cute lil Robin suit, and his action shots are the best. The guy is out there having fun and it shows. Your friends even agree when you can't help gushing over your late night photography sessions.

Well, after calling you crazy for going out at night in this city. Especially, with how close to the fighting you had obviously gotten. It may have taken a while to convince them that you weren't going to get yourself caught up in the middle of a Riddler maze or Two-face shoot out.

Deciding which should go in and which should come out is always a tedious process. The one with better exposure or with neater composition? You've already got a shot of him perched on that same gargoyle but, this one's a year old now. Maybe you could keep both, like a comparison, but you couldn't possibly.. maybe.. Then you'd go over your count and need to tosse another and you'd have to pick which and-Your cell rings. 

Lost in thought, the noise makes you jump like a cat at the loud sound. Swiping the noisy thing off the sheets, you answer with a huff.

“Heyyyy.. Sorry, I can't make it tonight..” Jason's voice came through the phone with tight regret, “I've got, uh... something came up. Tomorrow, I promise.”

It was a phrase you've heard before, more times to count. They'd use such weak excuses, only for tomorrow to never come. There was no later.

“Yeah, it's okay Jay.” The response was automatic, coming without a thought. How could you deny their call to action? There were always going to be things more important. “I get it. Just.. be safe, okay?”

“Of course, not like I'm doing anything crazy. I'll be with Bruce, we're fine.”

So, it didn't hurt that he tried keeping you in the dark like they did. You knew his concern was real, his care genuine. At least you want to know that he meant it, that he wasn't trying to push you aside. You'd just have to trust him.

“Up there! It's Batman!” A young boy yelps and tugs at his mother's arm, finger raised to the sky.

Eyes cast upwards, you watch as they jump from one building to the next. Capes billowing in the wind behind them. Following close, you run along sidewalks and duck through alleyways to keep up.

Pulling your camera up, you snap shots of Robin as he leaps off a rooftop. Capturing him mid-air, bright yellow fluttering behind him. The domino hardly masking his face of sheer joy paired with intense focus. His were always your favorite, filling his folder was easy. You wish you could show him some of the pictures you have of him. Maybe someday the two of you could go through it together. Would he find it creepy? Hopefully not...

You would never dare voice it but, you were envious of them. When they took to the soggy Gotham skies, gliding with ease above it all. Mouth hung agape, you watched the wind blowing through Jason's hair, and Dick with his flips and twirls. Even Bruce, using his cape to glide alongside them.

Well, maybe you told- “Alfred!” Your ride’s here and your mad dash through the city has been cut short.

“Crime alley is no place for an upstanding teen.” He tuts with a smile as you reach the car. Always a pinch of sugar with his scolding, “Come along, let's get home.”

Hopping in beside him, you can't keep your eyes off the stars. “I want to fly like them one day...” With a hum, He drives you two back to the manor.

Life is feeling better by the day. It's as if everythings clicked into place. The years you get with him are the most whole you feel. The only real sense of normalcy throughout your youth.

That night, he was home late despite not being on patrol. You overheard, well eavesdropped, that Jason was put off duty. Still he was out on his own, positively pissed, and came home after dark. Heading straight to his room, he brushes off Alfred, insisting on being left alone.

You can't help finding yourself standing anxiously at his door anyway. It didn't feel right, letting him fester in his anger alone. Knocking yields no results but, calling out his name softly earns you the same in return.

Opening the door slowly you peek in to see him, sitting on his bed with a box. His face is grim but he waves you in, motioning for you to sit with him. You do, placing yourself at the foot of his bed. Across from him with a box of papers and photos between you. Jason fiddles with an old looking photo, scanning it over and over. 

"I know you don't like talking about it, but," He swallows thickly before his eyes can meet yours pensively. "You, um, got a mom, right?"

It feels like the wind’s been knocked out of you. Yeah, you didn't like to talk about it, let alone think about it. "I guess, technically." You shrug it off the best you can, "I mean, ya know, everyone's gotta come from somewhere."

He rolls his eyes, dropping the picture back into the cardboard. "Yeah, no shit, that's not what I'm saying."

Really? You came to check in on him. Now you’re being snipped at over something he knows you're sensitive about. "Well, then, I don't want to know if your just-" Before you can fully lift yourself off the bed, he's gripping your wrist.

"Wait! I'm sorry, don't go!" His fingers tremble around his hold on you. He tries not to squeeze you too tightly while still keeping you close. "I-I just.." His other hand grips the box enough to crumple the cardboard under it.

"Jay..." You sigh, this unusual distress from your brother making giving in easier "I don't know. Maybe before but, I don't remember back then." Just nightmares of things you couldn't grip the memory of fully. Thinking of your mother and what she may have gone through with you? Only if it could help with whatever's eating at him, "I can't remember anything before being here. Blurry faces, locations I can't place. I didn't even know what her name was. Can't remember her face.."

When you sit back down he finally releases you. A hand runs through black curled, "I shouldn't have asked. Sorry if it's..."

"No, it's whatever. Who cares? Just..." You shrug, looking over the darkening Gotham sky, "Must not have been anything good." Fingers twist into the sheet below you in unease.

It did hurt though, every question slipping through your finger never to be answered. Flitting past your mind painfully when you linger too long on the past.

Your eyes are drawn back to Jason as he pulls a paper from the box. "I got some stuff earlier and..." He shows you old documents and photos that he was given by an old neighbor. You recognized the little Jason with, from what you're told, his father and stepmother. 

His explanation paused as you cooed at his baby face, which he does not appreciate. So, the woman who raised him, who passed, wasn't the same as his birth mother, who's alive. "I think I can find her but I don't know how long it'll take. I"

"That's," Blinking a few times at plie of evidence towards his childhood, you look back at him. "alot, but I'm sure if anyone could do it, that's you."

"You're not gonna.. try to talk me out of it?"

"Would you listen?" You raise a brow at him, his shoulders shoot up in turn, guilt evident. "Exactly." With a smirk you help him pack away everything. His face still knit pensively even after he sets the box aside, you scan the partly packed suitcase. It starts to feel too real but you know there's no helping it. So, you offer him all you can, taking his hand in yours, "Look, I don't know where you're going or what you're doing exactly but,” You squeeze his fingers and he returns it, “I trust you and I'll always be here for you."

Jason pulls your connected hand, rigging you into a tight embrace. "Thanks." His chuckle waivers against your shoulder, arms constricting around your midsection.

You repay his embrace in kind, forgiving the crushing weight of his hug as you blink away tears. "Just, please, stay safe. Okay?"

"Of course, look at who you're talking to, I'm the definition of cautious." He pulls away enough to give you a winning grin and you return it with your hardest 'You're joking, right?' face. "Alright, fine. I'll be careful. I'll be safe. Promise.”

“So, how are you getting there?" You sit crossed legs on his beds as he packs his bag. Chin resting on your palms you tilt your head as his rifles around his pocket.

“These!” He presents her a literal handful of credit cards. "I'll be flying, first class, duh” he notices your dropped jaw. "Please don't tell Alfred..." 

Teeth snapping shut, hands dropping to your lap, you blink at his little card haul, “Jason," you sighed, exasperated, “Where are you going?"

“The.. middle east?” Chuckling nervously as he stuffs them away, he watches the concern grow on your face at just how far he would be going.

“Your- Please, if you listen to anything I say. Jason.” You grab his shoulders, setting him with your sternest look “Do not die.”

“Oh my- Seriously?!" Rolling his eyes he shrugs your hands off, “I'm not gonna die!"

───── ⋆⋅ 🕸 ⋅⋆ ─────

Tag list?!

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[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

steve singing the cheesiest pop songs into a fake microphone at eddie just bc he's in a good mood and because eddie 'hates' it

steve singing these songs morphs into steve singing the same songs but swapping out lyrics to whatever eddie is doing, or they're doing, or to something that happened in a hellfire campaign etc

steve still singing those songs around everyone else but also starts to sing his changed lyric masterpieces to eddie specifically

One particular instance being when Steve starts to sing Frankie Valli at him while trying to convince him to go out with him and robin to this club they'd heard about.

He and Robin were trying to convince him from their spots behind the counter at Family Video, arguing about if he should come with them or not long enough for Steve to come around the counter and actually do his job, stacking away tapes onto the closest shelves, when Sherry comes on over the radio.

Steve starts to bob his head along while Robin tries telling him again that it's a good place, that she has it on good authority that it's a place for other Friends of Dorothy, but she doesn't get far before Frankie AND Steve start to sing.

Eddie can quite literally note believe what he's seeing.

Steve is staring him down, his eyes full of glee as he croons Eddie's name back at him, a well-worn copy of Gremlins acting as his mic.

"Eddie~! Eddie Baby! Eddie~! Eddie Baby--" Steve's long, high pitched (though somehow still in tune) crooning of his name in place of Sherry's is (luckily) funny enough to keep his face from showing exactly how he's feeling about being called baby.

"What in the hell are you doing?"

"I agree with Buckley."

Steve ignores them, signing about his moonlit party or something, putting the tape where it goes on the shelf to Eddie's right just in time to turn and snatch up Eddie's hands in his to sing "I'm gonna make-a you my-i-ine~!", right to him, tossing his head around with the last line and spinning away to keep shelving tapes.

Eddie's face blazes hot.

"Oh my god, this is actually doing it for you, isn't it?"

He looks over at Robin, ready to snap at her, deny it all, but she looks so sincere under that mirth.

He sighs.. "Yeah."

"Can you come out tonight?" Steve sing-asks, jumping into his space and startling him.

"Really??"

He's grabbed up Ghostbusters this time, "YooOOOuUU better ask your Uncle~ Tell him everything is alright"

"He won't care!"

Steve's voice pitches lower as he continues to ignore Eddie's comments, stepping away to a nearby shelf "Why don't you come out?" then higher immediately after, as he slides the tape onto it's shelf, "With your red flannel on"

"I can't wear a dress?"

"Mmm, you look so fine~!"

"Shut up, Harrington!" Eddie's cheeks are on fire

Steve continues to ignore him, stepping back into Eddie's space and snatching him up in a spin, one hand on his hip, one grabbing his opposite hand, "Move it nice and easy,"

He's front to front with the man of his dreams and said man is, shimmying his hips to the tune, "Well you make me lose my miiiind!"

Steve goes into more long belts of "EeeEEdie bay-ay-bee" as he spins away back to shelve more tapes, leaving Eddie both entranced and bewildered at the front of the store.

"He'll be so bummed if you don't come now."

Eddie sighs, leans back against the counter to wait out the rest of the song, "Yeah.. I know."

- - - - - - - - - - -

and then they go to the bar and then steddie kiss and robin kisses a super cute girl and they live happily ever after the end

this exact scenario has haunted me every time sherry comes on the radio so today you finally get it too lmao

[ssahotchnerr]

omg Katie i was rewatching s7 (as one does) and ohhhh my gosh I forgot how delicious and gorgeous beard!Hotch is😔😔 he’s just soo!!

I can’t stop thinking about maybe the beard making a comeback while on vacation or something, him being all domestic with that beard — and it’s just such a change from his usual suit and tie lawyer important job vibe😔 sorry just thought to share and wanted to know what you think of him <3333

while on vacation

i just couldn't not write a fic about this 🤭 bearded aaron my beloved cw; fem!reader, established relationship, jack calls reader mom, domestic fluff with a hint of spice❤️‍🔥, light suggestion <3 wc; 1.2k

"Don't scrunch up your face so much," you laughed gently, applying sunscreen thoroughly across Jack's face. Whether it was his forehead, the bridge of his nose, or his cheeks, he either attempted to move out of the way or scowled further in protest.

"But I don't like it," Jack complained. "It's cold and smells funny."

"I know you don't bud, but the last thing you want is to get sunburnt," you told him, your eyes sympathetic. "The sun here is a lot more harsh compared to how it is at home. I'd hate for you to be miserable, and not have as much fun because of it."

"I guess. It stings my eyes sometimes too."

"Just try your hardest not to touch your face, and you should be okay," you reassured him, snapping the sunscreen shut and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "Plus, I don't think you want your father's lecture on the importance of SPF."

Speaking of - "Aaron?" you called out. "Are you almost ready?"

"Yeah..." You heard him sigh from the bathroom, the faint sound of him searching through his toiletry bag audible. "I forgot to pack my razor."

You grabbed Jack's hat and placed it atop his head, angling it more downwards to playfully cover his eyes. You got to your feet, meeting Aaron in the bathroom. "You? Forgot to pack something? What happened to the spreadsheet?"

"I don't make spreadsheets for everything," Aaron laughed at your teasing, an inquisitive expression soon taking form on his face. "Do you think the hotel carries razors?"

"I don't see why they wouldn't."

"Or we'll just have to stop at a store later," he shook his head, giving up his search and zipping up his bag.

"Or we could just... not," you suggested, pushing yourself off the doorframe and running your hands under water quickly. Once clean of any lingering sunscreen remnants, you gripped onto Aaron's polo, your hands soon roaming his torso.

An amused grin formed on his face, "Oh?"

"We're on vacation. That means getting out of routine, taking it easy, not shaving." You shrugged, continuing your flirtatious touch by toying with the collar of his shirt. "So what if a light beard makes an appearance. It wouldn't be the end of the world."

"And that's the only reason, right?" Aaron inquired as a mischievous smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his eyes gleaming with a playful understanding. "That we're on vacation?"

You weren't slick, and he knew it. However, your request did surprise him - you've only seen him with a beard once when he returned home from Pakistan, short lived as Jack despised it. But you hadn't mentioned it since.

You widened your eyes, feigning innocence, "I can't imagine there being another reason."

He lowered his voice, leaning in close. "Just say it turns you on sweetheart, it's alright."

Surprised at his sudden forwardness you immediately blushed, but he also wasn't wrong. However, before you had the chance to respond -

"Mom, Dad, you coming?" Jack asked, waiting patiently at the door with his beach towel in hand.

"Yeah, we're coming." Aaron clicked off the light, his hand finding your lower back. As he guided you out of the bathroom, it wandered further down, causing you to playfully push it away with a giggle before any young eyes could see. "Did Mom put sunscreen on you?"

He got a groan in response.

Over the course of the next few days, Aaron obliged, heeding your wishes and not shaving. It was mere stubble for a day or two, which was still a sight to see. But towards the end of the week, the beard was coming in wonderfully.

With his dark hair, slightly tousled from the laid-backness of the week's pace, the beard also complemented the sharpness of his features. It brought out the color of his eyes, enhancing their deep, intense color. His jawline, which could make you go weak in the knees any day, was more defined, a perfect contrast to the soft yet rugged texture of his beard.

Add in his sunglasses, the sweaty t-shirt clinging to his body at times due to the heat, and his developing tan, you were absolutely swooning. It was nearly impossible to tear your gaze away from him.

Even the smallest of things were driving you wild. Aaron simply placed breakfast in front of Jack one morning; face adorned by his beard, conversing with his son naturally, the domesticity had you fluttering in all ways. You found yourself wishing you had the same request on your honeymoon.

In addition, the slow vacation mornings also allowed you the time to admire Aaron before he awoke, peaceful and content in sleep. For the first time in a while too, he looked well rested.

Jack had been worn out and sleeping in also, due to the sun exposure and the long-yet-fun days catching up to him. It thankfully granted you and Aaron some much appreciated time to spend alone together.

"Good morning," you mumbled softly when Aaron's eyes found yours, reaching up slightly to press a kiss to his lips, his jaw, neck, anywhere you could reach. You continued to litter him with kisses, before full-on straddling him.

Aaron chuckled, his hands landing on your hips. His voice was still rough with sleep, peering up at you with his sleep-heavy eyelids. "I'd say it is."

You laughed softly against his skin, pulling his t-shirt collar down, giving you access to kiss his chest.

"What do I need to do to get a wakeup call like this every day?"

After pressing one more kiss to his collarbone, you sat up, remaining on top of him. "I can't believe it's our last full day," you whined as a dull filled you; back to the city, back to normalcy, back to clean-shaven Aaron.

He hummed in agreement, his finger tracing the tan line from your bikini bottoms, visible above the waistline of your pj shorts. "It did go by fast, didn't it?"

You nodded, your shoulders slumping as your bottom lip protruded in a pout.

"Are you mourning the end of our time off, or the fact that the beard will be leaving," Aaron questioned, an admirable glint in his eyes. Again, he looked thoroughly relaxed laid against his pillow, his hair sticking out in all directions as he gazed at you.

"Both," you sighed, cupping his jaw and letting your thumb graze his stubble. "Don't get me wrong, I adore seeing your clean and attractive face. But I am going to miss this."

"I'll tell you what, I'll keep it a few more days. To allow you to enjoy it thoroughly, in the privacy of our bedroom." He sat up, positioning you on his lap and easily bringing his lips to yours. With Jack so close, the two of you hadn't been very adventurous in fear of being caught. "And maybe it'll make an appearance more often. Since you like it so much." He mumbled lowly amidst the fierce kiss, a light smirk tugging at the ends of his mouth.

You pulled back briefly, a finger pressed to his chest. "Is that a promise?"

"Definitely."

[pitchsidestories]

What do you fancy love ? II (Alexia Putellas x Jenni Hermoso x Reader)

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 1495

summary: Reader is just a girl who is sometimes insecure, but her girlfriends remind her how important she is to them. requested

author's note: Hi everyone, thank you anon for the request, and hopefully you and the other readers will like this little fanfic.🩷🩷

disclaimer: Everything in this fanfiction is purely fictional and nothing corresponds to reality. Slightly smutty ending.

You studied the photo on your phone closely. Tilting the device back and forth to avoid the glare on the screen and to find evidence of what you had told yourself over and over again in the past few days. It was Alexias’s post and naturally she looked stunning on it, smiling into the camera. Jenni was captured in side profile as she was turning towards you. She looked as cool as she always did. You were sandwiched between those two gorgeous women and the longer you stared at the photo, the less you felt like you fit in.

You couldn’t resist, your thumb instinctively clicked at the little speech bubble and the comment section opened. You already knew what was about to come.

Y/n just posted .. (let's pretend reader is Teresa in this picture)

User69: Are all three of them a thing?!

userloveswoso: no way. I mean Alexia and Jenni make sense but…

xXUserXx: yeah, they’re hot together but y/n kinda ruins it. Not sure what they want with her

You felt your stomach drop and your throat tighten immediately. While you continued to scroll through the comments, Alexias’s voice echoed through your shared flat: “Amor, where are you?”

The playful sing-song in felt completely out of place.

You cleared your throat and called: “In the bedroom!”

Instead of Alexia, Jenni shouted from the hallway: “Oh, I’m coming.”

You usually would have smiled about her eagerness to get into bed but right now, your eyes were still glued to that small screen in front of you.

Alexia groaned and scolded your girlfriend: “Jennifer, you can’t possibly always think of that one thing when you hear someone say the word bedroom.”

“What can I say? I was conditioned like a Pavlovian dog.”, Jenni laughed.

You felt their presence before you actually saw them standing in the doorway.

“Hi, did you get everything at the supermarket?”, you asked, forcing your voice to sound as casual as possible without looking up at them.

From the corner of your eye, you caught your girlfriends exchanging a glance.

“So, we’re not doing it?”, Jenni asked jokingly.

“Doing what?” You finally looked up at them and upon seeing Jennis’s smirk, you added: “Oh, you’re sure you don’t want to do it without me?”

Alexia frowned at you, her eyebrows knotting together in concern: “Okay, something is wrong. Tell us what’s going through your pretty head.”

“Pretty? Me?”, you repeated as she sat down on the bed next to you.

“Of course, you, you idiot.”, Jenni grinned from where she was leaning against the wall.

In contrast to hers, Alexias’s face was serious: “You act like we never say that to you.”

“The people seem to disagree.”, you said plainly and handed her your phone with a heavy heart. Jenni came over, leaning over Alexias’s shoulder as they both read through the comments.

The midfielder shook her head in disbelief. She was hurting for you as she saw what random people, complete strangers had to say about you and your relationship with them.:” Why would they say that?”

“Maybe they’re right.”, you whispered.

With a fierce passion Jenni disagreed:” No, those hiding behind their screens are wrong.”

Alexia said your name softly.

You almost couldn’t bring yourself to look in her beautiful hazel eyes. “Hm?”

“Don’t listen to them.”, she gently replied.

In your mind's eye, the hateful comments from the internet jumped out at you, and you quietly admitted: “It’s not that easy.”

“You can’t possibly believe that shit.”, the striker waved her hands in outrage.

In a tone that did not tolerate any protest, Alexia commanded: “Put the phone away for the night.”

“But..”, you started.

The blonde was quick to interrupt you:” You heard me.”

“Yes, relax, babe.”, Jenni tried to calm you down.

However, your thoughts left you no peace: “I don’t want to relax.” You could feel the panic rising in you as you spoke.

“You should though.”, Alexia responded.

Despite the worried look on your girlfriend’s faces, you observed:” No one says those things about any of you.”

“That’s not true, but besides who cares what they think?”, the raven-haired woman countered.

“I care, Jenni!”, you cried out.

It was in this moment that your lovers realized that you were in your early twenties, your career was on the rise, you still needed to learn how to deal with all of that outside pressure which came with being a public person.

The midfielder hated to see you so sad: “Calm down.”

To her great surprise, you got out of bed and announced: ”I’ll go for a walk.”

“Do you want us to join you or..?”, Alexia asked, sounding cautious.

Purposefully, you put on your shoes. You didn't have to think long about your answer to her question: ”No.”

As soon as you were on your way out, the door was just closing, the blonde let herself fall onto the bed with a tired sigh.

“Jenni, what do we do with her?”, her eyes wandered expectantly to her girlfriend who lay next to her.

Without giving it much thought, the older of the two suggested: “We have to show her that we know better than the stupid comments.”

“How?”

A dirty smile appeared on Jennis lips: “Well.”

“What if she’s not in the mood?”, Alexia objected.

The dark-haired woman began to stare at the ceiling, confessing with a wry smile: “Then I’m out of ideas.”

“Okay, we’ll try that.”, the midfielder decided.

A surprised laugh escaped Jenni's mouth: “Really?”

“Yes.”, she confirmed in a matter-of-factly tone.

It was early evening and there was a light breeze coming in from the sea that ran through your hair. The sunset was reflected in the water, which you could see from afar.

At the beginning of your walk, the anxiety weighed heavily on your young shoulders, but now that you were almost home again, you felt the weight lighten. The peace and beauty of the moment outweighed and calmed your inner turmoil.

“I’m back.”, you told your girlfriends once you stepped inside your shared appartement.

Again, it was Alexias voice floating over to you: “Come into the bedroom.”

“Uhm, okay.“, you said before you slipped out of your shoes and took a deep breath. You really didn’t feel like talking to your girlfriends again.

“Don’t let us wait.”, Jenni called too when you took too long to follow Alexias instruction.

You reluctantly did as you were told.

The bedroom looked a little different since you left it. There were candles burning everywhere and rose petals on bed. You had no idea from where they had appeared from. But most importantly, both of your girlfriends stood there in matching lingerie.

They looked incredibly hot but the sight of them like that was so surprising that it almost made you giggle: “Oh my god.”

Alexia reached out to you, gesturing to come closer: “Come here…”

“Seriously?”, you asked with a smile, still unsure if your eyes didn’t betray you.

Alexia nodded: “Yes, you know that I’m a serious person.”

“Hard to tell when you’re standing there in your underwear.”, you laughed.

Jenni, seemingly getting more and more impatient, walked over you with that typical mischievous smirk on her lips.

“Yes, and you, pretty girl, are still wearing way too many clothes.”, she grinned, her face close to yours. Skilfully, she slid her fingers under your sweater and started to lift fabric up.

“Excuse me? I didn’t say take them off.”, you protested jokingly.

Shrugging, Jenni pulled the shirt over your head: “No but I did.”

She immediately moved farther down, opening the button of your jeans.

Laughing, you pushed her away: “Stop.”

Alexia took Jennis spot right in front of you. Her thumb grazed over your cheek while she tenderly kissed your lips.

“Baby girl, do you still want us to stop?”

You blinked at her, your brain incapable of cooperating: “Uhm…”

None of your girlfriends moved until you gave them permission to keep going.

But you couldn’t resist, the desire was too strong.

You shook your head: “No.”

The smile Alexia and Jenni shared almost washed away the memory of these nasty comments again. They seemed genuinely happy that they were allowed to take care of you. You only realised that now. It wasn’t just about what you or anyone else thought. It was about what your girlfriends wanted. And they clearly wanted you.

Before you knew it, you laid on the bed in nothing but your underwear. Jennis fingers and Alexias lips were everywhere on your body. You loved it when they did that. It was almost like their playing styles on the pitch, complimenting and enhancing each other’s skills. There was no room for your own thoughts anymore. You were so absorbed in the action that you didn’t notice your phone sliding off the nightstand and landing under the bed. And if you had, you wouldn’t have cared. Their opinions were theirs, but your girlfriends made pretty clear that you belonged to them. That you were loved and desirable.

[digi-diareis]

Teen MC snapping at Caleb

Context: Yk how when you're teenagers, guys think the only way to flirt with the person they like is by teasing them? Well, imagine if Caleb had an era like this until it went too far and mc finally snapped at him.

Beware: this is gonna be SO BAD. im not a writer at all and english isn't my first language either. its just that i've had this scenario in my head for a few days now and i needed it out of my system. Also, I decided to use they/them pronouns for mc. So its more inclusive that way and also bcs even I personally don't always refer to my mc as she/her. So yeah, for the bitches, bros and non binary hoes.

Imagine this, Caleb and you bantering like usual on your way home but you're having an off day which makes it easier for you to get pissed off and fed up with all the teasing. Unfortunately, Caleb doesn't notice this and keeps teasing you until you just snap.

So mc, exasperated, scoffs at him and turns around to leave with their arms folded across their chest and eyebrows scrunched so hard they almost look like a unibrow.

"I'm done talking you. Go find someone else to pick on, Caleb. I'm not in the mood."

Sensing the sudden shift of mood, Caleb is speechless for a bit and left floundering, looking for the right words to say. He thought this was just your usual banter so why were you suddenly taking the jokes seriously? Hell, he can't let you stay in a bad mood for the entire day because that means he's getting the silent treatment and he'd rather die (well not really but he almost feels like it) than have you completely ignore his entire existence. Again.

He approaches you slowly, using a gentle voice to not alarm you the same way one would with a hissing kitten.

"Pipsqueak? Did I say something wrong? I'm sorry... Tell me what it was and I promise I won't say it again. Don't be mad anymore, we don't want you to develop any more wrinkles, do we?"

And oh, the way you stiffened up, very much reminiscent of a stray cat on full alarm against anybody trying to steal its food. Caleb gulps, knowing somewhere along the lines, he triggered a tripwire and a bomb's about to blow.

"Uhm! You know what, nevermind me! How about we go buy your favorite snack? Oh, what a coincidence your favorite stall is right around the corner-"

You turn around with a glare that makes him immediately shut up, looking like you're about to rip him a new one.

"WRINKLES?! First, you make fun of my height. Calling me pipsqueak around everyone and never shutting your damn mouth about how not a day has passed where I was taller than you. Then you start being weirdly aggressive towards my other guy friends, which by the way, what the fuck? Now most of them won't even talk to me anymore! What is your problem?! And now, you're calling me OLD and UGLY?!"

"I-I never said -"

"Shut your damn mouth and listen to me, Caleb! You have been getting on my nerves lately! I've been trying to convince myself that this is all just friendly banter but sometimes, you go too far that I don't even know if I can still laugh it off! We used to be best friends but now, its so easy for you to make fun of me. I don't know what I ever did to deserve this but oh my god, if you hate me this much then just stop hanging around me!"

Mc is heaving by the end of their entire speech, extremely worked up and upset that they're red in the face. They had been bottling this up for the past few weeks so letting it out almost felt cathartic.

Caleb is stuck in place, throat dry and mouth open but words won't come out. Was that how it's been like for you? Had he taken the jokes too far recently? Maybe it was wrong to listen to the other guys in his class who said that teens tend to fall for guys who act terrible, the bad boy stereotype is popular nowadays.

He looks down, feeling guilty and pathetic that he ended up making you feel like you hated him when you were the person who embodied everything he loved. You made him feel like flying and falling, all at the same time. So how could he hurt you like this? He had to make things right before it was too late.

"I'm sorry. Its all my fault. I shouldn't have said all those hurtful things to you, even if it was a joke or not. At the end of the day, they hurt you and that's not right. Please believe me when I say that I could never hate being around you. That couldn't be more wrong, not when all I ever want to do is be by your side. So please don't tell me to stop hanging around you, just thinking about it feels like my chest is being squeezed that it hurts. I promise I won't make the same mistakes again, so please forgive me?"

He's nervous, fiddling with his hands while he looks you in the eye. He reminds you of a wet puppy under the rain, begging you to bring him home with you. You knew the moment he pulled those puppy dog eyes that you would eventually lose, you could never say no to him. Not when you were kids and not now.

You sigh, shoulders slumping and the frown gone from your face. Now you just look tired, which only makes him more worried, maybe you're tired of him? No, that can't be. What would happen to him if you decide he's not worth keeping around anymore? He just might stop functioning all together.

You turn your back and start walking home, he feels his heart drop thinking this is it. You're leaving him behind– that is until you turn your head to the side, side eyeing him with a blush on your face.

"What're you standing there for, I thought you were going to buy me my favorite snack? Don't get the wrong idea, I'm not forgiving you just yet. Not until I've had my fill."

After that day, Caleb completely changes. Or maybe its more accurate to say he reverted back to how he used to be when you guys were kids. Doting, attentive and extremely supportive. He still banters with you from time to time but he never goes out of his way to start one. Although, there is one thing that doesn't change and that's how over protective he still is, he's still acting like a guard dog and being threatening towards all the guys in your class but at this point, you're just happy to have your best friend back again.

And just like that, Caleb's popularity spikes in your class because suddenly, every girl wants a guy who comes at their beck and call and attends to their needs. No more bad boy persona for them, they just want someone who worships the ground they walk on the same way Caleb does for you.

[bernardsbendystraws]

You Don’t Own Me

P1 P2 P3 P4 P5 P6 P7

Chris Sturniolo lives by his own rules, refusing to be controlled. Some see him as a rebel, a troublemaker—but is that the full truth? Meanwhile, Y/N is focused on making the most of her last year of high school, determined to have a normal teenage experience. But when their worlds collide, they realize they may have more in common than they ever expected.

WARNINGS: Mentions of kissing, mentions of family death, bra touching, talk of needing to piss ? 

A/N: This chapter is LONG. Lmk if we like it being this long or if I should break it up next time sorry! Proofread by @darksturnz (ty lovely girl!)

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

P7: Bras & Piss

wc: 2700+

Not even a single insult. Chris barely even lingered in the main room with Matt and me—like he couldn’t even fathom breathing the same air as me. 

It hurt. The dull ache in my chest seems to worsen everytime he ignores me. Even though it’s only been a couple of days, it still just felt different, and not in a good way. 

Luckily, Chris hadn’t caught me loitering in Matt’s room to help him out with his date with Mia. Although, part of me wish he had. Maybe then he’d at least ask or say something mean. And I just wanted him to say something—anything. 

“Pleaseeee?” Matt begs, his hands clasped as if he’s praying, the same plea falling from his lips yet again. 

Ever since I helped him with his outfit, he hasn’t stopped pushing one idea—he wants to make it a double-date. That way, it wouldn’t have to be so awkward at the beginning. 

But who the fuck was I gonna take on a double-date? The only men I’ve talked to recently are Chris, Jimmy, and Shawn. 

Chris is just not an option. Even though Jimmy’s sweet, that would be weird as fuck. And Shawn…well, I’m still mad. But I have to pick. And I can’t let Matt down—not when I see how much effort he’s putting into this girl. If I couldn’t have a perfect love story, at least I could watch it. 

Shawn. 

I stare at his contact on my screen with distaste, my gaze flickering from my phone back to Matt sitting across the table from me.

“But you and her will have so much fun—”

“Please! I don’t know what I’m doing and I just…I’d feel a lot better if I know you’re there,” he says, his face contorted as if he’s in pain. 

Sighing, I look down at my screen with hesitation. My fingers brush against the key, my cheek pulsing with a sharp sting as I feel my teeth gnaw into the muscle. 

I may hate Shawn right now, but I don’t hate Matt. Matt felt like the first real friend I had made in a while, maybe even ever. And this would help our friendship grow, maybe I’d even like Mia as a friend too.

Ugh. 

|  To Shawn: Hey, do you wanna go on a double date with me this Friday?  |

I send the message before I can rethink the wording. My nose scrunches as I see the read receipt pop up immediately, three dots moving on the screen as I watch Shawn type back. 

|  From Shawn: Fuck yeah ;)  |

Ew. How did I ever think this man was crush-material? Before that dumb party, it was like some sort of unspoken thing, we were always flirting, always touching more than just friends typically would. But now even the thought of his dumb brain coming anywhere close to me made everything in my stomach churn uncomfortably. 

“Thank you, you’re the fuckin’ best!” Matt cheers, walking over to me, pulling my head in his hand before planting a platonic kiss on my head. His arms shoot up in the air. He does a stupid little victory dance, nodding his head to an imaginary beat. 

“What the fuck.” I look over, seeing Chris staring at his brother incredulously, scratching his head before nodding his face from side to side, turning around and walking back down the hallway. 

It’s the first time I’ve heard his voice in days. For some reason, it makes everything inside of me feel a little bit lighter, like it’s some sort of relief. 

Maybe he’s easing up. 

I shake the thought off as Matt sits back down, blabbing on about anything and everything. 

It’s nice to have a friend. 

___

Matt was helping return the favor. It felt weird to bring a boy in the house, my mother was definitely judging. But I needed help. And I liked Matt’s style the first day we talked, plus—who the fuck else was I gonna ask?

“What do you want to wear?” he asks, flipping through the clothes in my closet while peeking his head over his shoulder to look at me sitting on the bed. 

I shrug. “Matt, I don’t know. Maybe something comfy, but like…I don’t know,” I whine, huffing as I roll my eyes. Why did this have to be so difficult? Shawn was probably gonna wear what he always wore—black jeans and a long, loose T-shirt, the ones that always had a sports number on the back. 

“What about this?” Matt pulls out a skirt. 

I immediately shake my head. “Hell no. It’s too windy, I’m not dealing with that.” 

He points, nodding as he shoves the article of clothing back into place before shuffling through more options.

“Hey, um, what even happened that night? You know…with Chris,” he mutters, his voice quieter than before. 

My face scrunches as I think back on the memory. “I don’t even know. He showed up at window at like, 2 in the morning—”

“How did he know it was your window?” Matt asks, cocking his head to the side as he turns to look at me. 

I shake my head quickly. “We made awkward eye contact when he was taking a walk—but that’s not the point. He came here, bribed me to go on a walk—”

“How did he bribe you?” Matt quips. He holds his hands up defensively as I glare at him.

“Trevour, duh.” I state, the obvious information dripping sarcastically as I let out a dramatic sigh, “Then, we went for a walk. It was… nice?” My voice rises almost as if I’m asking a question. Matt nods slowly, his scrunched face unrelenting as I continue to explain, “He gave me an apology. I mean, he didn’t say sorry, but like—well—you know what, I don’t fucking know, okay? All I know is that we came back here but my window had slipped shut. He was gonna sleep on the floor, but he just couldn’t and we were too tired to argue and—”

“And then you cuddled like a married couple?” he cuts in. 

I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth, squinting at him as I cross my leg over the other, resting my hands on my knee. “Matthew, shut the fuck up. I’m going on this date for you—I’d rather lick a toilet seat, fuck a splintered broom, and—”

Matt cuts me off, walking over and shoving clothes into my lap. “What about these?” he asks. 

Looking down towards the fabrics, I purse my lips to the side. Baggy cargos, a tight fitted black long sleeve shirt with lace details, and a maroon bra—

BRA?

“WHY THE FUCK—”

“WAIT SORRY!” he panics, grabbing the bra and throwing it aggressively back into the closet, “I just didn’t wanna hear about you fucking a splintered mop or whatever the fuck so I panicked and I—-I didn’t mean to, I swear!” he shouts, his eyes bulging as he covers his mouth with one of his hands. 

My face relaxes and I swallow thickly. He didn’t mean to, it’s fine. He saw my fucking bra, but it’s fine. 

“You’re lucky we’re friends and I like your dad,” I whisper lowly, my eyes twitching as I inhale a shaky breath, “-or I would slap your man tits so fucking hard they melted off your scrawny fucking chest, you stupid little—”

“Oh my god, wait! This is like—just another level of friendship for us then! Think of it that way,” he says, slapping my arm lightly. 

Is this bitch for real?

“I’m gonna go change in the bathroom,” I announce, stalking off towards the bedroom door. I turn around and point my finger directly at his chest, watching as he gulps. “Don’t touch a thing,” I warn. 

Matt nods quickly, clasping his hands together as he stands deathly still. 

At least he’ll be the only one touching my bra tonight. 

___

It wasn’t awful. 

Burst of colors and history are painted throughout canvases hung on the colossal walls. Matt and Mia had already ventured off. In fact, it didn’t really seem awkward at all. 

It made me smile watching their brief interaction. Matt was being an absolute fool, scratching the back of his neck like a damn dog. Mia, however, was shy, but excited. Apparently she really liked all of this. She loved it even more when she realized Matt would listen to her rant about each masterpiece for hours on end. 

Shawn was fine. It wasn’t anything special, but it wasn’t uncomfortable by any means. I think he could sense my stiffness, being able to understand that whatever we had going on had taken a big step back. 

“How’ve you been? Tessa said you guys haven’t hung out for a while,” he points, his hand swinging obnoxiously between our bodies. I think he was trying to hold my hand without directly asking. And it was fucking annoying.

I rub my lips together as I try to keep my gaze pointed ahead. “Yeah, I guess I just haven’t had much time with the project and all,” I answer. 

That’s a lie. I had time. Honestly, I've been kind of bored recently, but he didn’t need to know that. 

“Shame, we miss you, ya know?” he teases, bumping his shoulder into mine. 

They miss me? 

My body slumps a little more with each step. I see Matt and Mia from the corner of my eye, a smile crawling on my face as I see him utterly infatuated with her presence. Maybe that could be me someday, having someone who wanted to understand the most pointless things about me. 

“Heyyyy,” he waves his hand in front of my face, pulling my attention back to him as I feel my cheeks flush. Damn. I’m like a fucking iPad kid when it came to everything. “If they're too distracting, we can venture off further…you know, just us,” he suggests, his brows lifting on his face as he licks over his lips. 

His face is even pissing me off. Why is he looking at me like that?

“Shawn, I’m still upset with you. You drove drunk,”

“I only had a few drinks, you’re being fuckin’ dramatic,” he interupts, huffing as he rolls his eyes. 

Only a ‘few drinks’ could do a lot of damage. 

I wonder what Chris was like before he lost his mom and his brother. Maybe it was someone like Shawn. Someone so incapable of taking any sort of accountability, someone so… careless. 

Silence sinks into the air. A brush of heavy tension weighs downward as I try to create just the slightest bit more of distance between us. 

“Hey, hey,” he coos, quickly tugging my hand into his before cradling it with his other. I look up at him as he stares down at me, my face twisting as I gaze around us. “I’m sorry, okay? It’s dumb, I know. I just… I guess I just wanted to have fun and make sure you had fun too, alright? That’s all it was, it won’t happen again. Swear,” he says, pulling our hands apart and interlocking our pinkies. 

My eyes squint harder at him before I let out a deep sigh, slowly nodding before retracting my hand back to my own body. At least he’s taking accountability. 

“We’re gonna go get ice cream, you guys wanna come with?” Matt asks, stalking towards us with a stupid smile on his face. My eyes fall down, seeing his hand pulling Mia’s lightly, his thumb swiveling against the back of her palm. Oh, he’s so fucking adorable with her. 

“Nah, go ahead. I’ll drive her back, go have fun,” Shawn answers before even sparring me a singular look. 

Bitch. He’s not even my boyfriend and he’s trying to speak on my behalf. Yeah, this isn’t gonna work. 

“Are you sure…?” Matt’s eyes trail to mine. 

I purse my lips before giving an affirmative nod. They’ll have more fun alone. “Yeah, go ahead. Don’t have too much fun,” I joke, offering a small wave as they walk down the marble flooring, disappearing past a corner. 

The sound of Shawn’s chuckle makes my face furrow, my lips curling into a tight line as I raise my brow at him. “What’s so funny?” I ask

Shrawn shrugs. “Just couldn’t wait to get me alone, could ya?” he teases, playfully wiggling his brows and sparing me a wink. 

I chose this over ice cream? 

___

That date hadn’t ended awful, but definitely not good, either. I was still waiting for Matt to finish up. It had been hours at this point, but I couldn’t find it in myself to be anything but happy for him. 

I didn’t know where else to go. I felt really drained, I just wanted someone to talk to. This was the only thing I could think of. And even though it seemed a bit odd at first, it felt normal, as if this was something that has happened at least twenty times before.

“And then what happened after Matt and Mia left?” Jimmy asks, petting Trevor nuzzled up in his lap as he gives me his full, undivided attention. 

He was more than happy when I showed up knocking at the door. I was just glad it wasn’t Chris who answered. And speaking of, I still didn’t know where he was. Probably in his room or something. 

“Well…” I look up to the ceiling, retracing the memory as I explain, “It wasn’t bad, I guess? We used to, I don’t know—flirt? But he’s just so…I don’t know how to explain it,” I groan, sinking further into the couch. 

Jimmy laughs. “Then what went wrong today? He seems sweet enough, why were you even mad at him?” he asks. 

My eyes scrunch close. I wasn’t gonna tell him that detail. I had already told him too much, definitely more than I should have. 

“I think he was gonna kiss me and I…I don’t know. I just kinda brushed it off and asked him to drive me home and well… here we are,” I sing, covering my face with my hands. 

The old man looks down at Trevor as he rubs the dog’s ears. “Maybe you just gotta get out of your head and give him another chance, kid. Whatever he did, just put it aside and try things out. I mean, thank god for my wife giving me chances. If not, she would’ve left me in the dust when I accidentally got paint in her damn hair,” he breathes out gruffly, laughing dryly at the reminiscent memory. 

A smile climbs on my face as I listen to his tone get softer. The slight joke holds meaning, a lot of meaning. No wonder Matt was so sweet, he knew how to treat a woman. Chris on the other hand? Maybe he did at some point. Definitely not now though. 

“Thanks, Jimmy–”

“What did I say!” he exclaims, standing up and ruffling my hair, “Call me J-Dawg!” 

I shake my head with a vicious laugh. “I’m not calling you that.” 

The man shrugs before stalking off towards the garage. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m gonna go fix this damn light switch in the garage, keep Trevor company until Matt gets home, alright?” 

I don’t have time to offer a response as I hear the heavy door click shut. My eyes drift over to the snoozing dog, my heart melting into a puddle as I watch his closed eyes flicker with a vivid dream. 

He could be dreaming of going on a walk—a walk with her, a woman I’ve never met—a woman I’d never get the chance to meet. 

Maybe Chris dreamed of her too. Maybe that was why he didn’t typically sleep well. 

“I need to pee, hold on, Trev.” I announce to the dog, slightly shaking my head at myself. Not only is he a dog, but he’s dead asleep. Did it really matter if I let him know? 

As I start to get up from the couch, I freeze hearing his voice. 

“Why’re you in my house? And why are you telling my dog you need to fuckin’ piss?” 

Chris. 

[marauder-misprint]

Hiiii!!! I think that's what everyone wants from you, but you're so good at it, so I'm going to ask you for Fem!reader x Sirius.

If you're comfortable with writing, I'd like to read about Sirius and the reader having a pureblood wedding with an "arranged marriage". Sirius would be strongly opposed to this idea, and to be honest, even though it's Sirius, the reader wouldn't like a forced marriage either. I am ready to read all kinds of happy and unhappy endings. I just love your imagination, if you write something like this, I would love it.

Hi! Thank you so much for this request! I literally wrote this in one evening because I got the storyline and needed to run with it. It's more story than dialogue, but I'm quite happy with how it turned out. I think the ending technically counts as happy. I hope you enjoy it

'Not a pawn'

Sirius Black x Fem!!reader

4.5k words

cw: angst, arranged marriage

You were thirteen when your parents told you about it. An arranged marriage with the eldest Black son. You knew him from school, and he wasn’t terrible. But it was the principle of the matter. You were directly told that there was no point to date while at Hogwarts, your husband was already chosen for you.

You frowned deeply. Your mother, with no concern for your displeasure, told you to stop it, frowning caused wrinkles. Of course, that was her only care. You had to be pristine to be a future matriarch of the house of Black. 

You often wondered how the arrangement came to be. Why had the Black family chosen you? Why had your family chosen them? Who reached out first? What did the other have to offer for it to come together? 

Obviously, your family had enough social status to even be considered. And it must be a hefty amount since Sirius started acting out the moment he tasted freedom at Hogwarts. You would’ve been daft to not know that the Black family needed someone to rein him in, redeem him even. Honestly, a portion of you felt honored that Walburga and Orion thought you had it in you. 

You had met them several times before the arrangement came to be. There had been socials and parties, the occasional ball and dinner. Pure blood families stuck together. You knew a large portion of those gatherings was for the adults to find pairs for their children. It was like the Black family motto, toujours pur: always pure. They believed that the wizarding bloodline couldn’t be tainted with muggle blood and so, marriages were made like deals. Your blood status reduced you to an item to be haggled over. 

From your limited interactions with Sirius, you knew he was no happier about the arrangement than you were. He was noticeably more upset. Furious even. You tried not to be insulted. You told yourself it wasn’t about you. Like it was you, it was about the principle. Except you thought that you should be able to marry for love and Sirius, well, he hated just about everything his parents stood for. He wanted nothing to do with his pure blood status, and therefore, nothing to do with you. So despite being betrothed to each other, you barely exchanged a word or glance while you were at school. 

His actions only supported how much he was against the idea of marrying you. While you focused on school and maintaining a perfect image, Sirius flirted with anyone deem tolerable and if someone managed to get into a relationship with him, it never lasted. He made it his mission to prove to everyone that he couldn’t be tied down, certainly not to you, someone picked by his parents. 

If you were honest with yourself, the arrangement didn’t feel real until your seventh year. Your parents started planning the wedding. It was to happen in early July after you graduated. Sirius running away before sixth year had raised concerns, but Walburga and Orion insisted that he was still to be your husband, no matter what his actions said. 

When classes started, you wrote to your parents to express your own concern about the arrangement. They brushed off your concerns and instructed you to let the adults handle it. Like you weren’t essentially an adult and to be married in a matter of months. It angered you. You hated that this large aspect of your life still felt like it was up in the air and no one would listen to your issues with it. You were one of the few within your friend group that was arranged to be married. Some of your friends were half blood or muggle born, so obviously, they wouldn’t be picked. Some of your pure blood friends’ families were more progressive and didn’t follow in that tradition. And your friends who had their lives planned out for them were paired with boys who didn’t put up a fight against it. 

You sought out the one person who would understand how you felt about it all: Sirius. 

You found him in the Astronomy Tower, enjoying the November evening. He didn’t hear you come up the stairs. He didn’t notice you until you were standing right next to him, leaning over the railing and looking wistfully at the ground. He raised his eyebrows in surprise before looking away, not bothering to say anything.

“We need to talk,” you said firmly after a few minutes of standing in silence.

“We do? That’s news to me,” he replied dryly.

You weren’t shocked that he had no intentions of talking with you. This was the closest you had been to each other physically since you were thirteen. Every social gathering that you happened to be at together, Sirius was on the other side of the room. He refused to be seen associating with you. He didn’t want it to appear like he was accepting his inevitable fate. 

“July. It’s coming whether we like it or not.” 

He barked out a cold laugh. “We. Like you aren’t pleased with the matching.” 

“Could’ve been with someone worse, you’re right,” you said. “It’s more the… being told who I have to marry that I have a problem with.”

Sirius didn’t respond. He continued staring out across the school grounds. You took it as a sign to keep talking, although you knew deep down that Sirius would’ve just liked you to leave him alone.

“It doesn’t seem like we have any way out of it. And I figure, if we’re going to be together for the rest of our lives, we might as well get to know each other? It’d make the situation less unbearable.”

“We won’t be spending the rest of our lives together. Don’t bother getting your hopes up.”

You hummed a response. “Your parents seem to think it’s happening.”

“They’re wrong.” He spoke with such finality that you almost believed him. 

You let silence fall between you for a minute. The biting cold wind drove you to wrap your scarf tighter around your neck, and then your robe. Sirius, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind it. He wasn’t wearing a scarf or gloves and his robes were discarded somewhere behind him. 

“Did they ever talk to you about it?” you asked. Your voice was barely above a whisper and if you weren’t standing right next to him, he probably wouldn’t have heard you.

“Walburga and Orion don’t talk.” He gave you a sharp look. “Just like I’m sure your parents didn’t talk to you about it.”

“We’ve… conversed,” you said slowly, as if it meant anything more than what it was.

He tutted. “Right. And did they listen to anything you had to say?”

“No.”

“Precisely.”

You clenched your fists. You wanted to talk to Sirius, to somehow make your life after Hogwarts have some semblance of happiness. But this man beside you was a stranger to you and he didn’t seem interested in talking. You kept trying for your own sake.

“Why do you seem so convinced that July isn’t happening?”

“The month will come. Time passes.” 

You rolled your eyes and turned your shoulders so you were facing him. 

“The wedding, Black. Our marriage.”

“Can’t marry a bloke who’s not there.”

“You’re just not going to show up?” 

He nodded, reaching into his pocket to pull out a cartridge of cigarettes. He pulled one out and offered the pack to you. You shook your head. He pocketed it and lit the one in his mouth with a snap of his fingers. You watched as he inhaled, held the smoke in his lungs for a moment, and then blew it out into the night. 

“Have you thought about how you not showing up would affect me?” 

“Don’t really care.” 

You scoffed. “Maybe you should. My entire future depends on you showing up.”

More frustrated with the world than when you first climbed the Astronomy Tower, you turned and left Sirius. Although, now you had something real to consider. What would happen if Sirius really did refuse to show up? How far would your families go into the planning and actual production of a ceremony before realizing that you would be walking up the aisle alone with no one waiting for you at the altar? You knew they couldn’t even fall back on Regulus as a back up; he had already been promised to someone else and they seemed like an agreeable match. 

You let yourself fall into a dream of what you would do if you weren’t the future Mrs. Black. You’d actually have to find a job. It wouldn't be too huge of a problem given your grades and dedication to your studies, but it was something you hadn’t put too much thought into. You’d have the opportunity to act on crushes you’ve harbored over the years. You’d have a freedom to do whatever you pleased, a feeling that you hadn’t had since your second year of schooling. 

All of this dreaming, of course, was also relying on your parents not scrambling to find you another suitor. Some last minute younger sibling of another pure blood family who they hadn’t bothered finding a partner for. That thought was worse than the idea of marrying Sirius for some reason, even though he clearly didn’t want to be your husband. 

You let Sirius be for a while. You didn’t try talking to him leading up to Christmas break. You went home to find your mother in full planning mode. Instead of a restful break or one filled with endless studying to ensure that you ace your N.E.W.T. exams, you assisted your mother in planning a wedding you weren’t sure was going to happen. The brief two weeks were filled with deciding flowers, testing cake flavors, making an invite list, and the most surreal of it all, trying on dresses. Your mother said she would keep you up to date as far as planning went. She assured you that once your exams were over and graduation passed, the month of June would fly by. She said that like it should be comforting. Exciting. Thrilling. A bunch of things except the dread and fear that burned inside of you. 

You found Sirius again. He was in the greenhouses. You didn’t want to assume that he was hiding from someone, but he had that look to him. If you didn’t think too hard on it, it was easy to believe that he was hiding from you, although you hadn’t publicly announced that you were looking for him again.

“I have a dress,” you said as you approached where he was sitting on the upper level of greenhouse #4. 

“Congrats, I guess,” he said with a tinge of confusion to his voice. Like he didn’t know what you were talking about.

You sat down next to him, your rehearsed neutral expression practically etched into your features.

“A white one. For July.”

“Who’s the lucky bastard?” 

“You.” 

The air between you was tense but both of you spoke with uninterested tones. 

“I don’t recall asking you to be mine.” Just like last time, he barely turned his head to glance at you. His eyes were trained on the tinted glass ceiling. 

“Everyone but you is certain that this union is happening. Everything is set in motion. Can you at least humor me? Pretend to care?” Your voice had a hint of desperation but you were quick to cover it. “You wouldn’t leave a girl at the altar, would you?”

Sirius rolled his eyes, but you knew you got his attention. He sat up and faced you with a frown as deep as the one you had when your parents first told you that you were being forced to marry him.

“I won’t be leaving you at the altar. You won’t be walking down an aisle toward me. Got it, princess?” 

“And what makes you think that?”

“I know that because I am not a pawn for my parents to use for their personal gain. I have my own plans for after graduation. You should make your own.” He stood and took a step to walk away. Then he looked back at you. “Remus says you’re a bright girl. Don’t waste it on waiting around for a wedding that’s not happening.” 

Then he left. He disappeared down the stairs and you heard doors open and close as he passed through them. You lingered in the warmth of the greenhouse. You considered Sirius’ words, just like last time. You wished you possessed the ability to walk away from the situation like he did. 

Could you? Besides many of your physical belongings being at your parents’ house, what would happen if you didn’t return after graduation? Did you have the ability to get your own flat somewhere in London and find a job and leave your parents and family behind? Why did you feel a sense of duty to your parents and marrying a man they chose? 

You groaned and leaned back. Guilt washed over you. You hadn’t done anything but considered leaving your family behind for a world of freedom, yet it was enough to make your heart clench. 

Sirius began truly avoiding you. In the classes you had together, he made sure to always be on the other side of the room. He changed the routes he took to each class. If he happened to be in the library when you walked in, he left. He sat as far away from you during meal times as he could. 

He didn’t need to avoid you for the most part. You wanted to seek him out and try talking to him again so you could understand where he was coming from, how he thought. Something inside of you kept saying that if you talked to him again, you would feel the urge to abandon your family again, and that filled you with endless guilt. You had a duty to your family. That much was reminded to you every time your mother wrote to you. 

The spring term both dragged on and flew by at the same time. It was too short and too long. It was the end of your time at Hogwarts, and that meant you would no longer be seeing your friends every day. You’d be going out into what you called the real world soon. It felt like everything you did was for the last time. But the end of your time at school meant N.E.W.T.s and endless assignments. Professors assigned essay after essay. They required revisions and reviews. Each professor was determined that every single one of their students would pass. So your fleeting time within the castle was taken up surrounded by books and piles of parchment. You swore you went through more inkwells in those last few months than you did in the previous six years. 

Then the exams came and went. You were given a brief break from the bustle of everything. School was over. You had no more lessons to attend. No more assignments to return for a grade. No more endless studying and practicing spells, some of which you were certain you would never use outside of the castle walls. 

Graduation loomed ahead. 

Your respite was short lived. Too soon parents were descending on the grounds for the graduation ceremony. Before the ceremony, you spent time with your friends. This was it. The end of it all. It was an emotional time for everyone. Afterwards, you greeted your parents and Walburga and Orion. You didn’t know why you were surprised that they came. From what you knew, Sirius hadn’t actually talked to them since he ran away. You looked around for him as you stood next to the four older adults. Sirius was with the Potters, as you should have expected. He didn’t look your way once. The Blacks offered your their congratulations and told you that they were looking forward to someone of your intellectual caliber joining their family. 

So, they clearly thought the marriage was happening. Even with their son a short distance away and refusing to acknowledge them. 

After all of the festivities were finished, the parents went home and the graduates returned to their dorm for one last night in the castle. You yearned to find Sirius. You needed to know for certain that he wouldn’t be showing up in July. But, instead, you sat on your bed. Legs crossed and hands clasped, you sat. You stared at your mostly packed trunk. You stared at the empty walls that had once been adorned with various posters and photos. You stared out the window, a view you had grown so accustomed to. Your roommates were all in the common room having a final hurrah. You couldn’t be bothered to attend. You knew you might regret not having gone in later years, but right now, you needed to be with your thoughts.

You went home the next day. The train ride, despite taking all day, was too short. The ride back to your family’s home was filled with your mother summarizing the wedding plans, everything finished and finalized to the smaller details that still needed to be set in stone. You stared out the window, not bothering to entertain her. You listened, of course, but you offered no insight or opinions. 

And that was just a brief look into what the next month of your life was. Everything from that day onward orbited the wedding. Your thoughts, as they should have been, were on Sirius. In an alternate universe, these thoughts would have been filled with excitement about marrying a fine young man of excellent standing. In this other world, you would be thrilled for the start of the rest of your life. But it wasn’t another world. Your reality had your mind repeating the sentiments he voiced the two times he spoke to you. 

‘I am not a pawn.’

Were you a pawn? Was all of this for your parents’ personal gain and nothing for you? What was going to happen because you felt pretty sure that Sirius wouldn’t be there, no matter what the older adults thought? 

I am not a pawn.

This time, it was you thinking it. It was less than a week before your supposed wedding. In that other reality, it would be called getting cold feet, but you told yourself that you were coming to your senses. 

You packed a bag. You placed an undetectable extension charm on it so you could take as many of your belongings as you desired. You moved quietly throughout your room, but you kept moving. You knew if you stopped for a moment, you would change your mind. Your resolve would crumble if you hesitated. 

You listened for the conversation coming from the dining room. Your mother and father were going over the seating chart for the umpteenth time. As you stood outside the room, you heard your mother complaining about her sisters and how they got into a row two days ago and could not be seated anywhere near each other. Without seeing his face, you knew your father had his own rehearsed neutral expression. He was without a doubt tired of the conversation and all the wedding details. With you at school, he had had to endure the never ending lectures about flowers and colors and who had RSVP’d and what meal choices they requested.  

When your mother asked your father’s siblings, you took your chance. You slipped out the front door and started walking. You needed to put a little bit of distance between you and the house before you went where you weren’t certain you’d be welcome. 

You ducked into an alleyway in the nearby muggle village. You steadied yourself. You had to remind yourself that your parents were deep in discussion. It was after dinner. You usually remained in your room alone for the night. Your disappearance wouldn’t be noticed until morning when your mother would without a doubt go to chastise you about not rising early for breakfast. You took a deep breath and then apparated. 

You stood on the front step at the Potter Estate. You swallowed thickly. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you raised a shaky hand to knock on the door. You honestly felt like you were about to pass out from the nerve of doing this. 

No one answered the door for a minute. You shouldn’t have come. You knew you shouldn’t have. You should have stayed and been a dutiful daughter. You should have taken the shame of having a betrothed not show up to the wedding head on. 

Then it got worse. Sirius opened the door. 

He stood there, mouth gaping at the sight of you on the Potters’ step. 

“Did they send you to collect me?” he asked. He sounded so disinterested.

You didn’t know how to answer. You couldn’t bring yourself to say that no, you hadn’t been sent. You came of your own free will, seeking the freedom that he had. You just stood there with a bag over your shoulder. 

“Oi, Padfoot, who is it?” James’ voice rang from inside the house. 

“I’m not going to marry you,” Sirius said firmly, not answering his friend.

“I’m not asking you to. Can… can I come in?” You found your voice, but it was weak. You felt like you were going to cry. 

Sirius stepped aside and gestured for you to enter. You nodded. He closed the door behind you and then led you to the living room where James was lounging on a couch.

“Why’re you here?” James asked, sitting up slightly at the sight of you. 

“I…” you tried to speak, but this time your voice failed you. 

You stood there awkwardly. You hugged yourself as if that would render some courage so that you could explain why you appeared at the Potters’ house days before your wedding. A wedding that was doomed before it was even planned. 

“She asked to come in,” Sirius told James as he took a seat in an armchair next to James. 

A woman’s voice sounded from a different room. “James, Sirius, is someone here?”

“Just someone from school, Mum!” James yelled. 

There was no response from the woman and the two boys watched you carefully as you remained still. You didn’t know how to explain anything.

“Well?” James asked pointedly. “Why’re you here?” 

“I-I… I needed somewhere to go.” 

That was it. Tears started to fall down your face. You couldn’t stop them. You weren’t really sure why you were crying, but you were. You felt drained and confused and here you were, standing in a strange house that you really shouldn’t be in. You let yourself fall to the ground. You hugged your knees to your chest as you tried to collect yourself.

“Mum?” James called to his mother. “Can you come ‘ere?”

There was the scraping sound of a chair being shoved backwards. Then a woman who must’ve been James’ mother appeared in the doorway. She gasped and moved toward you, crouching when she got close enough to you. She ran a gentle hand over your forehead, brushing your hair out of your face. She shushed you with a motherly warmness that you hadn’t felt from your mother since you were a small child. 

“What’s wrong, dear?”

“Everything,” you sobbed.

Your vision was blurred from tears. You couldn’t see James and Sirius exchanging uncomfortable glances as Mrs. Potter concerned herself with you. Then she looked back at them.

“You said she’s from school?” 

Sirius cleared his throat. “She’s… erm, she’s the one I’m supposed to be marrying in a few days.”

“Oh.” It was vital information to Mrs. Potter. She turned back to you. “Would you like some tea?” 

You could barely bring yourself to nod. She helped you up and with a gentle grip, she led you into the kitchen where she had been before. James and Sirius, still very unsure about the whole situation, followed. While Mrs. Potter put a kettle on the stove and gathered four mugs, the three of you sat at the table. Your bag sat on the ground next to your chair. Tears no longer streamed down your face but your breathing was still ragged. 

When it was ready, Mrs. Potter served the tea and offered cream and sugar. Then the four of you sipped your teas quietly. After a minute when your breathing sounded more even, Mrs. Potter spoke.

“Are you here for Sirius?” 

You shook your head. 

“I… I’m here because of him.”

Mrs. Potter looked at you with a look of comforting encouragement. It was a silent urge to continue while the boys stared at you. As little as you talked to Sirius over the years, you had talked to James less. The oddity of you being inside the Potter Estate was immense.

“He got away,” you said slowly, putting space in between each word. “He left it all behind and… I want to do that too.” You swallowed and forced yourself to look Sirius and then at Mrs. Potter. “He came here. I didn’t know where else to go.”

Mrs. Potter nodded. The boys’ stares persisted although they held something else in them. It was a different feeling that took over the table. You weren’t here to try to get Sirius to marry you. No. You were trying to escape the grasp of your parents. 

“I’ll set up a room for you.”

That was it. Mrs. Potter left you alone in the kitchen with the boys. You would have somewhere to spend the night and you could figure out what you were going to do tomorrow. There was a thickness to the silence that fell over the kitchen, but the boys didn’t leave you alone. They sat there, drinking their tea with you. They remained in the kitchen when Mrs. Potter came back to collect you to show you where you’d be spending the night. You thanked her. 

When she returned to the kitchen, she asked the boys what they knew about the situation and you in general. It wasn’t much, but it was more than you had been able to say. It seemed to be understood that everything would need to be discussed more tomorrow. She bid the boys good night and reminded them not to stay up too late.

James and Sirius sat in silence in the kitchen. Neither knew what to say. Their evening of movie watching was disrupted and now they didn’t know what to do. When they finished their tea, they placed their mugs in the sink. James went to his room, but Sirius stopped by yours. He knocked and stepped just into the room when you responded.

“Leaving’s the first step, you know,” he said. He had a soft smile on his face like he was proud of you. “Congrats on getting out.” 

“We’re not pawns,” you said quietly. 

Sirius’ smile widened at that.

“That we are not. Get some sleep.”

[sevikaslatinawife]

PLEASEEEEE DO MORE CURLY HAIR READER X SEVIKA!!!!!

yesss hope you enjoy, anon!

Curly Cues

Warnings: f!reader, fluff, modern!au

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

You were in the bathroom, hair products strewn about around the sink. You were untangling your wet hair with a Denman brush, wetting the collar of your (Sevika’s) shirt in the process.

Music was playing idly in the background, your phone on top of the toilet lid as you started dividing your hair into four sections. Each one clipped in place by a hair clip. You opened up the products: leave-in conditioner, curl cream and gel. As you were beginning to start at the first section, your girlfriend came into the bathroom.

You hum when you see her, tilting your cheek out when she leans down to kiss it. She always seemed to enjoy watching you do your hair, and when you teased her about it once, she just muttered a ‘shut up’ but didn’t move from her seat.

“You just gonna stare?” You scrunch your nose as you apply water in a spray bottle to your hair before taking some leave in conditioner on your fingers and combing it through your hair.

“What, I can’t watch my pretty girl?” She smirks at noticing the pink hue your cheeks take on.

“Then you call me a sap,” You mumble and take curl cream and spread it across the section, making sure to rake it through every already-forming curls under your fingertips.

‘You are a sap,” She chuckles, gray eyes almost sparkling as she looks at you, watches your every move as you rake the Denman brush through your curls. “And you make me a sap, too,” she huffs as she takes a seat at the lip of the bathtub.

You smile and turn to walk over to her. She spreads her thighs for you to step between as you lean down to kiss her forehead. The half-done, wet section of hair brushes her cheek and makes her hum. It’s cold against her normally heated face, and it makes her grip your hips, both the metal of her prosthetic and the flesh of her right.

“Pretty,” You whisper as you kiss her temple, then her forehead again.

She grunts and her fingers tighten at your hips. “That’s you, idiot.”

“Take the compliment,” You tease and tilt her chin back with the back of your wrist to press a soft kiss to plump, warm lips. The kiss is soft and chaste and you pull back after a few seconds to go back to doing your hair.

Every movement is practiced and near-perfect — because of course, you have not found a solution to the frizz that clings to your hair when you towel dry the curls with a microfiber towel. You apply more gel, concentrating on your ends because you tend to miss them.

You rinse your fingers under the water, as well as the brush and pull out the hairs on it, bawling them up to throw away. Sevika hated when you let them clog the sink because it happened way too often — but she still didn’t mind fixing it because it just reminds her of how you’re utterly her little problem.

Once everything is cleaned up and put away, Sevika is walking around you and wrapping her arms around you from behind. She would press her nose against the crown of your head, basking in the cold of your hair and the smell of the products that now only remind her of you.

Sevika now cannot smell anything similar without thinking of you.

“You’re going to crush them,” you whined and lean your head forward and away from her face. “Let them dry.”

Sevika groans because it takes your hair hours to dry and, on top of that, she would have to be poked by your gel-casted hair since you wait to scrunch it out sometimes. Other times, Sevika would sit you down and slowly scrunch out the gel and you loved it. You would close your eyes and almost sway at the gentle touch of her right hand in your hair. She said she didn’t like using her prosthetic for fear of tugging your hair — and because she can’t feel it properly with it.

But she knows how you are, so she waits. And waits. And waits for your hair to dry while you two do chores and then sit on the couch to watch a movie. You had picked something scary and she begrudgingly agreed.

When you lean your temple on her shoulder and pull the blanket around you higher, she knows that you wont mind her touching your hair now. So she reached out with her right hand to tug a curl, watch it bounce back into place after the gel-casting is melded off by her and lets the curl go. She kisses the top of your head and relishes in the scent of your hair products because she has come to associate the sweetness of their scent with you.

With the love she has for you. With the time you’ve spent together and all the time that you have left.

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

More Sevika fluff, guys! Send me more fluff requests!

[softaestluv]

Sticky When Wet

Three times Ghost swore he hated honey with his tea and one time he admitted he couldn’t live without it.

Alpha! Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Omega! Reader

Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Omegaverse, Alpha/Omega stereotypical behavior, Scenting, Angst, Miscommunications, Denial, Simon is bad at feelings, Possessive behavior, Jealousy, Size difference, Eventual smut

Pt. 1 of 4, Pt. 2

Black Tea.

Ghost cherished black tea more than the average person. Every morning: a fresh cup to start the day. Stressed out? A cup of plain and natural black tea would bloom deliciously in his chest. Solved most of his problems, burnt away the tension in his body.

Honey.

Ghost appalled honey more than the average person. The taste, smell, and consistency, everything about it, down to the yellow color. It was too sweet; a pungent aroma of warm sugar like butterscotch and woody cedar made him turn away in disgust. Plus, it was sticky and tacky. Clung to every surface it touched. Glued his counters and fingers in layers of goop that he struggled to scrub off.

He wasn’t one for sweets; rarely was he given the privilege of a sugary treat in his childhood. Candied items were even more rare in the military, though most luxuries were in his occupation. So, he never developed a sweet tooth; he lived without it for so long.

Instead, Simon favored bold flavors; enjoyed the rich malt of black tea. Melting bitterly on his tongue, just the way he craved. He couldn’t even imagine ruining the delectable taste of his tea with honey. Diluting the strong flavor soft and sweet.

There were few things Ghost admitted to loving in his life, but a warm cup of black tea was one he would willingly sing his love for from the top of the hills.

Why would he put artificial flavoring in it? The tea already had the perfect taste.

Ghost hated honey. Hated it even more mixed into his sacred tea. Despised the way your scent radiated it. Loathed how you reeked of sage honey and sweet tangerine. Disgusted each time he smelt your sickly sweet scent, each time you served him a tray in the mess hall stained in honey and citrus.

It ruined his food, ruined his fucking black tea. The delicacy of a pure cup ripped from his grasp the moment you started working in the cafeteria. Your scent soaked into the food, the tea—the whole fucking cafeteria. Filling his senses with warm honey, pungent even through the fabric of his balaclava, melting onto his tongue with each breath. Made his tea sweet and saccharine.

The tea bags stored in the kitchen were tainted by your scent. The only place he could enjoy a cup of tea anymore was tucked away in the barracks, stored in his room where he could peacefully escape your scent.

Even now, walking down the empty corridor to the mess hall, your smell wafted through the doors. Practically suffocating him the moment he walked through them, flooding every sense with your thick aroma. Drenching him in your warmth, clinging to his skin, and making him sticky, exactly the way he hated.

“The hell is this?” A sergeant shouted at you as Ghost walked over, tray slammed loudly against the counter.

Your head snapped up, shrinking behind your shoulders from the harsh gaze of the alpha, voice shaking lightly, “I'm sorry, sir. What’s the problem?”

“Are you stupid? Foods bloody fuckin’ cold, and you didn’t give me any bread.” Belittling tone making you flinch.

“I-I’m sorry, sir. I’ll make sure to fix this for you,” You stuttered, trembling hands scrambling to pick up the tray as his aggressive scent overtook yours.

Your own scent turned sharp, sweet smell diluted, washed away, and tainted from the other alpha’s condescending words. Shifting warmth and tangerine into sour malodorous. The putrid smell alarmed Ghost’s alpha, rumbling in his chest angrily, trying to claw its way out to comfort the omega in distress.

Ghost’s eyes zeroed in on the other alpha, the man who soured your scent. His eyes twitched in irritation, instincts just about ready to maul the threat to your contented smell.

“No. Do it fucking right from the beginning next time, omega,” The man barked, alpha voice curled around the edges of his words, causing you to fight the urge to present your neck in submission.

The use of his alpha voice had Ghost growling angrily, watching you struggle to keep your chin down made him seethe, clenching his jaw tightly.

“Oy,” Ghost snapped, both of your eyes flickering to his looming presence, “Is that any way you should be talkin’ to her, sergeant?”

The sergeant opened and closed his mouth, struggling to find the correct words as he stared at Ghost in shock. Dumbfounded.

“Huh?” He asked dripping in anger, crossing his arms over his chest disapprovingly, waiting for a response, “I asked you a fuckin’ question. Or are you the stupid one?”

“No, Lieutenant.”

The smaller alpha stammered under Ghost’s scrutiny, arrogance since dissipating from his voice and stance. Submitting to Ghost and his demanding tone like a petulant child scolded by his father.

“This isn’t a buffet. Go eat your fuckin’ cold food with a smile.”

The sergeant nodded, ducking his head in embarrassment before scurrying off like he wasn’t just brazenly scolding you. He would deal with him later during training, make him—make everyone understand that he wouldn’t tolerate that behavior.

Ghost turned his focus to you, doe eyes since widened, staring up at him with the same shock the sergeant wore.

“Thank you, lieutenant. You didn’t have to do that.”

“What? Like you were gonna fuckin’ do anything ‘bout it besides stinking the room up with distressed omega,” Simon grumbled, “Though, I guess you already do that.”

Your eyebrows furrowed together, a frown deepening on your plump lips as his words settled in. Sour scent muted into confusion, melancholic. You placed his tray on the counter, mumbling quietly under your breath as you diverted your gaze.

“Sorry about that, sir.”

Simon almost laughed as he grabbed the tray and walked to an empty table. Only he could save someone from an asshole alpha just to end up leaving the situation as the asshole. Though, he wasn’t lying; he had seen countless men scrutinizing you, and you never fucking did anything about it. Just let them walk all over you, folding under their command within seconds.

It pissed him off to watch you give in so easily. Especially when it soured your scent, filling the mess hall with distressed omega. That was almost worse than the sugared honey and citrus combination that overwhelmed his senses. Instead, it made his black tea unbearable; couldn’t even drink it as it burned his throat acidicly. Let alone be in the same room when it had his alpha unsettled, tossing violently in his chest.

Ghost didn’t understand why you didn’t fight back. Why you just let it happen when they clearly spoiled your mood, spoiled your sweet scent sour. Though, he wasn’t an omega, his natural instinct wasn’t to submit. His instinct was to challenge and battle against any authority that threatened him.

It’s not like the men in the military were astoundingly gracious anyway; most of them were pricks with too much testosterone who chose to take their anger out on the weak link, the omegas, to feel powerful. To follow and satisfy the primal hierarchy built into their genes, to make up for their lack of self-esteem.

There weren’t many omegas on base, and Simon was sure you faced most of the brute backlash from alphas. So, he took matters into his own hands, shutting down and shooing away any asshole he saw berate you. It was a known fact by now to the other men on base not to; he had made it abundantly clear that he wouldn’t allow anyone to treat you that way.

However, they were always receiving recruits, and a fresh trainee served as the perfect example for the rest of them. Before whispers were mingling between them ‘not to fuck with the pretty omega or else the lieutenant will make sure your training is a living hell.’

Besides, Ghost was only doing it because he liked his black tea without a side of distressed omega—really.

[gf2bellamy]

guilt — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: you are tired of spencer apologising all the time. or the one where you no longer want to be the cause of spencer's constant guilt. content warnings: literally just angst sorry :( a/n: bye i broke my own heart writing this

You stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at your reflection, your hands gripping the edge of the counter. Spencer had called you a little while ago, his voice carrying the unmistakable weight of guilt.

He'd been asked last-minute to teach a guest lecture, something he’d clearly not expected, and had warned you he’d be running late.

It was supposed to be a quiet night, just the two of you. You’d planned to unwind and to enjoy each other’s company. The things that, months ago, were routine.

You wiped away the last remnants of your lip gloss, staring at your reflection as you let out a heavy sigh. You’d tried to distract yourself, but it wasn’t working.

Your mind kept drifting to Spencer, to the reason why he wasn't here, and to the frustration that sat heavy in your chest—not with him, but with yourself.

You weren't angry. No, of course not. How could you be?

Spencer was the kind of man who gave every part of himself to everything he did. You admired that about him.

He was brilliant, kind, and incredibly humble—a combination that made your heart swell with affection. You'd watched him in his element, lecturing on topics that made his eyes light up.

You couldn’t help but smile at the memory of it. He was happiest when talking about his work, and those moments of joy filled your heart in a way nothing else could.

But tonight…tonight was different. It wasn’t about being angry. It was about the growing feeling in your chest that something wasn’t quite right.

The realization that you might be standing in his way, even without meaning to. You pushed yourself off the counter, turning to lean against it, crossing your arms tightly across your chest.

What bothered you was not that Spencer had to be away tonight, but the constant, nagging feeling that you were the one who was holding him back.

He carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, trying to balance the demands of his career with the needs of your relationship.

And no matter how many times you told him it was fine, no matter how many times you reassured him that you understood,

Spencer couldn’t shake the guilt. It was always there.

You hated it. The way he apologized. For things he didn’t need to apologize for.

For the long hours when Hotch kept him late. For the times he was called away on a case at the last minute. For the times you barely spoke because his mind was somewhere else.

It was as though, in his mind, every part of his life, every obligation, every commitment, was something he owed an apology for, even if it meant sacrificing his own happiness.

He deserved better than that.

You swallowed hard, shaking your head at yourself. Was this your fault? Were you the one making him feel like he had to apologize? Were you asking too much from him?

You didn’t want to be the one to burden him. The last thing you ever wanted was to make him feel like he couldn’t give his best to the things that mattered most to him, especially when it came to his work.

But you also wanted him to feel like you weren’t just another item on his to-do list. You didn’t want him to apologize for every moment he couldn’t be there, especially if those moments were out of his control.

With a slow exhale, you left the bathroom, catching your reflection in the mirror one last time. Your hair was slightly disheveled and your eyes a little too tired. You shook your head, pushing the thought aside, and stepped into the kitchen.

For a while, you just stood there. The hum of the refrigerator and the faint ticking of the clock in the background.

Your fingers drummed against the counter as you stared at nothing in particular, your mind racing through the same thought over and over again.

You realized then, with an ache deep in your chest, that both your heart and your head had made a decision.

You bit your lip as it hit you, a cold, sinking feeling settling in your stomach. And before you could even process it fully, before you could find the words for what it was you were feeling, the familiar sound of keys rattling at the door sent a sharp jolt through you.

Your body stiffened instinctively.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a second, only then realizing the tears that had welled up. You blinked them away quickly, forcing them down before they had a chance to fall.

Why were you crying?

You couldn’t even remember why you had come into the kitchen in the first place. You swallowed the lump in your throat and turned away, heading back toward the living room just as the door opened.

Spencer stepped in. His tired eyes immediately searching for you. His satchel slid from his shoulder, landing with a soft thud next to the door. Before you could say anything, before you could take another breath, he had already pulled you into his arms.

“Hey, Spence,” you mumbled, barely able to get the words out before you felt him tighten his hold on you.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered into your hair, his chin resting on top of your head before pressing a gentle kiss there.

There it was. That word. Again.

Your arms wrapped around his waist, and you rested your head against his chest. You could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek, the rise and fall of his breath as he held you close.

But you didn’t say anything. You couldn’t.

Spencer didn’t let go. Maybe he knew you needed this, maybe he needed it just as much. But then something shifted.

You felt the moment he realized just how tightly you were holding on to him, how desperate your grip had become.

And you realized that he realized.

But you were terrified that if you loosened your hold even the slightest bit, it would be for the last time.

And yet, eventually, you did.

Slowly, hesitantly, you let your arms drop, though your hand lingered against Spencer’s stomach for a moment longer, reluctant to break the last bit of contact.

He noticed, of course he did.

His hands moved to your face, fingers brushing delicately over your cheeks before tilting your chin up slightly. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering just long enough to make your chest ache.

“How was the lecture?” you asked, voice quieter than you intended.

Spencer pulled away just enough to look at you, his fingers still tracing gentle circles against your skin before he finally let his hands fall. “It was nice. I enjoyed it,” he said simply.

That was it. No eager rambling, no bright excitement about the subject matter, no recounting the way the students had responded.

Because of course, he wouldn’t talk about it.

You closed your eyes for a brief second, pressing your lips together as realization settled over you. He didn’t want to tell you how much he enjoyed it—because he felt guilty. Because he thought saying so would make you feel worse about being left alone tonight.

Spencer was watching you closely, always attuned to the slightest change in your expression. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice laced with quiet concern.

You hesitated. You didn’t want to do this now. You didn’t want to ruin his night, especially after a good day. But you knew Spencer. Once he noticed something was wrong, he wouldn’t let it go.

And just like that, you were trapped.

Before you could even think of a way to deflect, Spencer reached for your hand, pulling you toward the couch. He sat down beside you, his grip gentle.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured again, his eyes searching yours. “Really. I’ll make it up to you.”

Oh, God.

He thought you were upset about tonight.

You could feel the lump in your throat, the pressure behind your ribcage that had been building for weeks, months maybe. The weight of it all—the guilt, the apologies, the constant push and pull between his world and yours—was too much.

And suddenly, the words were spilling out before you could stop them.

“I think we should break up.”

The moment the words left your lips, you felt Spencer’s entire body go still.

Your hands slipped from his, the warmth of his touch vanishing in an instant.

“What?” he whispered, staring at you like you’d just shattered the world beneath his feet.

The sheer devastation in that one word sent another wave of tears rushing to your eyes. You blinked rapidly, willing them away, but it was useless.

“Why?” he asked, and that single syllable—so small, so fragile—nearly broke you.

Why did it feel like your entire heart was being ripped from your chest? You didn’t even want to imagine how Spencer felt. You were blindsiding him, springing this on him without warning, and the realization made the guilt in your stomach twist unbearably.

Spencer’s panic was immediate.

“I—I’m really sorry,” he stammered, shaking his head as if trying to make sense of what was happening. “I tried, I swear. They just— They really needed me to guest lecture, and I know I should’ve said no, but I thought—” He exhaled sharply, stumbling over his words as he desperately tried to fix something he didn’t even understand yet. “I can make it up to you. We can go out this weekend, or— or I’ll take some time off, whatever you want, just—”

“Spencer.”

Your voice came out louder than you meant, and you winced at your own volume.

He fell silent immediately.

The room felt painfully still, as if the air itself had thickened, pressing in around you. You stared down at your hands in your lap, unable to look at him—because you knew. The second you met his eyes, you’d take it all back. You’d fold under the weight of his gaze, of his heartbreak, and you’d tell him it was all a mistake.

But you couldn’t do this anymore.

“It’s not because of that,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

You could feel his eyes on you, feel the confusion and desperation radiating off of him.

“Then why?” he asked, voice strained, raw.

You swallowed hard.

Because you were tired. Tired of being another thing on his long list of responsibilities. Tired of hearing him apologize for things that weren’t his fault. Tired of watching him carry guilt he didn’t deserve.

You were doing this for him.

You took a shaky breath. “Because you shouldn’t have to keep saying sorry just for living your life, Spencer.”

“What?” Spencer asked again, barely above a whisper.

It was so unlike him. Spencer was a man of big words, of endless explanations and carefully chosen phrases. But now, he was stuck on the smallest, simplest ones. And somehow, that broke your heart even more.

“You—” You exhaled sharply, running a hand through your hair as you stood up, suddenly feeling like you couldn’t sit still. “You just keep apologizing.”

Spencer’s eyes followed you as you moved, wide and confused, his brows furrowed like he was trying to piece together a puzzle that didn’t make sense. “I—I don’t understand,” he admitted, voice cracking slightly at the end.

“You apologize for every single thing,” you muttered again, your voice barely above a whisper. You weren’t even sure how to phrase your feelings in a way that made sense, in a way that wouldn’t hurt him more than it already was.

How do you tell someone you love that you’re leaving because you love them?

You swallowed hard. “You just have so much going for you right now.”

You met Spencer’s eyes for a fleeting second before looking away almost immediately.

You couldn’t do it. You didn’t have it in you to hold his gaze, not when the pain in them mirrored your own.

A single tear slipped down your cheek, and you brushed it away quickly, like you could pretend it was never there.

Spencer saw it, of course. And even though his heart was breaking, even though everything inside him was screaming to reach for you, to brush the tear away himself and hold you until you weren’t sad anymore, he stayed frozen in place.

You stared at the ground. “I am in your way, Spence.”

Spencer’s mouth opened instantly, desperate to argue, to stop this before it spiraled any further.

But when you looked at him—your eyes filled with quiet pleading, begging him to just let you speak—his lips pressed shut again.

“You’re so smart,” you said softly, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips despite the ache in your chest. “You get asked to step in for guest lectures last minute, and you do it—no preparation, no hesitation—just because of how brilliant you are.”

Spencer swallowed, his throat tight, his own tears welling up now.

“You’re literally an FBI agent,” you continued, your voice shaking. “And you still reread entire books while drinking one cup of coffee.”

He let out a short, broken laugh, but it faded just as quickly as it came.

“And yet…” Your voice wavered, your eyes brimming with more tears. “Yet you always come home and apologize.”

Spencer clenched his jaw, his entire body tense as he watched you unravel in front of him.

“You say sorry for reading too much,” you whispered. “For getting lost in something you love. For having these incredible opportunities that most people would dream of. And I just… I don’t understand, Spence.”

The tears were falling freely now, your chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. Across from you, Spencer wasn’t faring any better. His own tears had started slipping down his cheeks, though he made no move to wipe them away.

“And on top of all that, you carry so much guilt,” you choked out. “I will never be able to fully grasp what it’s like to have a job like yours—to see the things you see, to shoulder the things you do. But what I do know is that I don’t want to be another thing that adds to your guilt.”

Spencer shook his head, his breath shuddering as he finally stepped forward, closing the distance between you. “You’re not—”

“I am,” you interrupted, your voice breaking. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to say sorry just for being who you are, Spencer. I don’t want to be something that makes your life harder.”

Spencer let out a soft, desperate noise, barely more than a breath, as if the words physically pained him.

“You’re not,” he whispered again, and this time, he didn’t stop himself—his hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears with a gentleness that made your heart shatter even more.

“I love you,” he breathed, his voice raw. “You are not in my way. You are not something I have to apologize for. You are the best part of my life.”

Your breath hitched. “Then why does it feel like I am?”

Spencer didn’t have an answer to that question. Maybe because there wasn’t one.

Or maybe it was because the sight of your tear-filled eyes took his breath away.

That’s how much this hurt him.

But he still couldn’t take his hands off your face. He was terrified—terrified that if he let go, it would be the last time he ever got to touch you.

“But you’re not,” he whispered again, his voice breaking under the weight of his own devastation.

He looked at you with so much love, so much desperation, that it made your stomach twist painfully. He wasn’t just heartbroken—he was lost. Completely and utterly lost in the idea of a world where you weren’t his anymore.

You closed your eyes for a second, letting yourself memorize the warmth of his hands, the way his thumbs rested just beneath your cheekbones, like they belonged there.

You wanted to stay in this moment forever.

But you couldn’t.

So you took a step back.

Spencer’s hands fell away, lingering in the air for a second before he clenched them into fists at his sides, like he didn’t know what to do with himself without you there.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible. “And I love you.”

Spencer inhaled sharply, like the words physically wounded him. “Then don’t go.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his eyes one last time.

And then you turned away.

[mischievous-introvert]

Diet is so personal. Anyone who tells you otherwise is being cruel and probably is trying to sell you something. It’s about balancing capacity, resources, needs, desires, and ethics. If you want to eat in a way that improves your life, pay attention to your relationship to eating and cooking. I have put a lot of work into understanding how to independently care for my temperamental disabled body. My best advice is to learn how to cook food you’re excited about.

I get extremely anxious/overstimulated in grocery stores and struggle to leave the house, so I get a local produce box delivered. Figuring out how to cook different things becomes a fun challenge, and when I make delicious things I can blow my friends minds.Having local produce makes me feel proud of the environmental impact and more connected to the agricultural cycle. It’s not gardening my own food but it’s a step closer. It motivates me to eat it before it goes bad because I care about the plants and I can be excited to turn them into an experience I enjoy.

If I don’t like something, I ask myself why, and what I can change. I think of texture, and the balance of sweet, salty, citrus, edamame, I think of the process I used to get to eating. I struggle with energy so I like to make things on days I have it that I can throw in the microwave. If it’s a can of beans and some bread that works too. I try to balance vitamins, minerals, proteins throughout the day, but it’s a day thing not a meal thing, snacks are great, and the only standard you have to meet is your own. I try to be aware of what my body responds positively/negatively towards. I eat an entire plate of a single food that I enjoy that makes me feel full if I want to. I don’t care if that’s weird. I avoid eating foods I have allergies or sensitivities to even if that means passing on something that smells delicious, I have to appear picky, or say no to someone and that’s scary to me. They don’t live in my body, and I deserve to enjoy eating and digesting.

Got myself a vegetable chopper. Learned most vegetables taste great when I roast them in my toaster oven with olive oil garlic salt and black pepper. Wanted to eat less sugar because it makes pain worse, but I refuse to cut sugar because for me the added pain is worth the added joy and freedom of eating desserts. So I try to bake all of my treats. Baking takes energy so I do it less often. Will I eat an entire plate of cookies before they finish cooling? Absolutely. I put the effort in. I deserve it. However, now I eat less sugar. Do I still buy desserts? Sometimes yeah, I want encouragement to bake, not a rule I have to follow out of fear of shame. Do I have days when feeding myself at all feels like a burden I can’t shoulder because I hate everything, I’m in so much pain, it’s hard to stand, and I feel nauseous? Yes. Those days I have meal replacement shakes and order food. I’m not too broke to order food. No one is too broke to deserve to eat. I’d rather have debt than feel like I have to starve to save money.

Sometimes I just order food because it will make me happy. Associating food with joy is worth it. Sometimes that means ordering a pizza. Sometimes that means trying a new recipe. Sometimes it means making my own recipe in chaotic freedom. Sometimes it means preparing a fancy dinner for my QPP or baking cookies for my bookclub. Sometimes it means researching a recipe from another culture because people have been loving it for hundreds of years and I think that’s beautiful.

If you find food makes you anxious ask why. Figure out how you can make it feel more beautiful. You deserve to nourish yourself in a way that truly feels nourishing.

It's time wrench the phrase "Eating Healthier" out of the claws of the diet industry.

It should mean increasing your daily nutrient intake. It should not mean starving or deprivation. Because really, how could it?

Eating Healthier is about what you ARE eating, not what you aren't. It's a game of addition, not subtraction. If you give up pizza and change nothing else about your diet, you aren't getting any extra nutrients. If anything now you're getting somewhat less.

So sure you could replace the pizza with salad. Then you're getting more nutrients. Or you would be, if the salad was actually appetizing and you wanted to eat it. And if you weren't actively resenting the salad for not being pizza.

Which can also put your body into a stress state leading to less nutrient absorption from the foods you're eating to begin with.

So what if instead you just ate pizza with your salad? (Or perhaps a different nutrient dense side that you would actually enjoy.)

Letting yourself eat the foods you enjoy and exploring other foods to eat in addition is healthier, quantitatively speaking, according to daily nutrient intake (and uptake) than depriving yourself or starving yourself ever could be.

Eating foods you enjoy lets your body relax, it leads to higher nutrient uptake from the foods you're eating, and more overall satisfaction.

Deprivation diets are not about health. They're just about eating less, and that is not healthy.

[captain-huggy-bear]

I was watching the video where the Utah team were asked their Karaoke song, Clayton's being Wagon Wheel. Then I listened to it and then I realised that I think he'd call you mama when you're pregnant (tbh I think he'd sometimes call you it even if you're not pregnant or a mum) Also I'm less than 200 away from 1000, should I do a celebration? Maybe prompt lists or something idk? Let me know what you think baring in mind it'll probably take me 500 years to write everything anyway lol Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

You feel like a very sick, very achy whale. That's really the only way to explain how being 7 months pregnant felt. You were dealing with feeling sick every day, baby deciding she wanted to twist and turn at all hours and kick you at every opportunity. She was heavy as well causing your back to ache, your ankles to swell and your entire body to hurt.

You're just trying to grab something to eat but have to stop halfway to the kitchen, hands pressing to your back, leaning in such away that your bump presses out further. You're starting to get fed up with this pregnancy stuff and Clay hates watching you feel so wrong in your skin every day...even as he thinks you look the most beautiful you ever have, carrying his baby.

Hands are sliding over your lower back, long sturdy fingers pressing into the tense muscle there as Clay presses his chin to your shoulder, having spotted your discomfort a mile off. He knows this pregnancy is being rough on you and he's trying his best to be attentive, supportive even when he's away on a roadie.

"How you doin', mama?" Even as you're annoyed at him for getting you pregnant and putting you in this position, you can't help but relax into him, shoulders pressing back against his chest as his hands move around to your belly, rubbing across the taut fabric of your t-shirt there. The moment you found out you were pregnant Clay had started calling you mama more than he called you baby, a shift that melted you ever single time. Even when you were irrationally and hormonally angry at him.

"Everything hurts and your baby is making me sick." You moan at him, huffing and annoyed even as your body relaxes into him, putting your weight back on him. He just huffs out a laugh at you, knowing you're not actually upset with him and that even if you were he has no right to be upset about that. Not when you're dealing with all the aches and pains of giving him a baby.

"My baby? Mama, you cannot blame me entirely for her actions." He says this even as she kicks you under his palms as if she knows exactly where his hands are and aims for them. You're almost certain she'd be a penalty box baby.

"You put me in this position."

"I know...I know." He hushes you, pressing a light kiss to your shoulder before nuzzling into the crook of your neck. He feels bad on some level for how uncomfortable you are, even as he's happy you're having his baby, "What's hurting the most right now?"

"My back, your baby is a fucking giant. Big ass head." It's ridiculous you think, that he's only 5ft 10 and yet his baby feels like a giant. You can't even begin to contemplate how large she'd be if he'd been someone like Michael...it makes you shudder in dread. God help his future partner if she decides to have a baby with him.

"C'mere, mama." He's pulling you back against him even as you start to resist his movements, trying to pull away from him unsure what he's about to do and overly suspicious of his motives. You don't want any of his hairbrained schemes right now, you're too uncomfortable for it.

"Clay..?"

"Come here. Trust me, baby." You stop resisting until he's pressed flat against your back, hands sliding over your bump and underneath with a softness, a gentleness that always surprises you. For a man who can shoot a puck at 90mph he can be astoundingly gentle.

It's almost a shock, the good kind, how Clay's large hands cup your belly from underneath and lift until he's taking the brunt of the 10lbs you're certain your baby is going to end up being.

"Oh..." You sigh back into him, relaxing so completely that you're almost jelly. Head leaning back onto his shoulder, eyes closing. It's instant relief from some of the back pain and the aches, all of that weight lifted from you by his hands so easily because to him the weight is nothing, but then he's not carrying it all day, every day.

"That feel better, mama?" He mumbles it against your temple, pressing intermittent kisses there as he watches the way you ease into him, the smile of relief on your face. You're his baby too, his first baby, and you're important, as important if not more than his baby baby. Taking some of the pressure off you, helping you feel good? That's more important than anything else.

"Mmmmm...yeah, much better." You're so soft against him, pliable, boneless. Clay feels a certain sort of pride at the fact he's able to help like this, that he can take some of that pain and pressure away even for a few minutes.

"I'm sorry she's being mean to you..." God, he can't wait to meet her, but he also hopes she's not as difficult once she's here. Terrified she's going to be a hellion that has him pulling his hair out from stress. All she's done is spend the pregnancy kicking you, keeping you awake at night and making you vomit while making you crave food you hate and be unable to stomach foods you love. If anyone should get an award for patience and resilience it's you.

"She's going to be a handful...but I love her anyway." You smile as he kisses your temple again, firm enough you can feel it, but not too rough that it'll jar you.

"You're going to be the best mama, baby."

"I hope so..." You mumble as he eases your belly back down. Pulling you to lay on the couch with your swollen ankles in his lap. Fingers massaging against the swollen skin as you lean back into the couch pillows.

"You worried?" He watches you, assessing you as he works his fingers into the arch of your heel, pressing at tense little spots. You're biting your lip worriedly as you watch him, gone into that spot in your head you go to sometimes, even as your hand strokes across your belly in an attempt to sooth the baby who's started kicking you again.

"Mmm, just get scared sometimes that she might hate me," There's this part of you that's terrified you won't bond with your baby, that no matter how hard you try she won't love you back...or worse that you'll mess up, do something that makes her hate you.

Clay's hand smooths up your calf to the back of your knee, his eyes impossibly soft as he looks at you. A gentle reassuring smile pulling at his lips.

"Not possible, mama. Promise she's going to love you as much as I do."

And you believe him. In that moment, it's hard to imagine that Clayton's wrong. He knows you better than anyone else, the only other person who knows your baby almost as well as you do. Knows what makes her kick, how best to get her to settle so you can sleep and what foods stop her making you vomit. In that moment you can't imagine that he could possible be wrong and it makes you want to cry because all you want is to be a good mum to your baby, to be a good partner to Clay, to have it all work out.

"...thank you."

"Anytime, mama."