#he says that too and how old do you have to be to join the police? (at least in japan)

[seumyo]

another new year with bakugou katsuki.

One more hour ‘til the New Year.

“So,” you started, “we’re about to ring in another year. Guess I’m stuck with you again, huh?”

Bakugou paused from tidying up the scattered toys in your shared bedroom. The gears in his head need a moment to get to processing.

“Hah?”

“It’s just hitting me, you know? I’ve been putting up with you for how long now? Feels like forever.”

A scowl immediately made itself known in his lips, unsure if you’re joking or not. “The hell are you gettin’ at?”

You tapped your chin as though deep in thought. “Maybe it’s not too late to return you to your parents. They probably miss having you around, anyway.”

“You’re jokin’.”

Bakugou’s eyes blink dumbfoundedly.

“Does your parents have a no-return policy?”

His voice dropped to a grumble, and his brows furrowed. He finishes tidying up the toys and joins you on the bed, cuddling close to you (even if he doesn’t consider it cuddling, moreso invading your personal space—but you’re his wife, so he gets a pass).

“As if. You think you can just ship me off like I’m some Amazon package? No way in hell, dummy. You’re stuck with me.”

And I’ll gladly be stuck with you for eternity, he finds himself wanting to say but refrains from doing so.

“Stuck with you, huh? That’s a bold statement, Katsu. What if I do want to send you back?” You laughed softly.

Bakugou snaked his arms around you, pushing himself impossibly closer to the point where you could tease him for being too clingy, his lips tugging into a pout he’d never admit to. “You can’t. You said yes when I proposed. You walked down the aisle. You said ‘for better or worse.’ That’s on you.”

You smiled, combing your hands through his hair. It may appear all spiky and rigid, but you’ve learned that it’s actually fluffy and soft—definitely well taken care of.

“I don’t remember that part. I think you dragged me down the aisle, all grumpy and scowling.”

“I didn’t drag you anywhere. You were practically sprintin’ to get hitched to me.”

“Was I?”

“You were,” he scoffs, but it’s soft, as if thankful of the fact. “And now you’re mine forever. No refunds, no returns, no exchanges.”

The sound of your laugh is something that’ll never get old to him. He could play it on repeat and never choose to turn it off.

“Forever’s a long time, Katsu.”

“Forever’s not a long time when I get to spend it with you,” he says. It’s the truth, and he can never bring himself to lie to you. Not now, not ever.

Because if anything, Bakugou Katsuki loves with his whole heart, puts every piece of himself in the things he does and has done, and he’ll be damned if he ever lets you settle for anyone less.

“Spend it with the little brats, too.” Ah, your two daughters have him wrapped around their little fingers.

You rolled your eyes. “Confident, aren’t you?”

“Definitely.” He reached out and grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together. He looks at you with this all too familiar look, as if asking for a simple thing.

“And don’t even joke about tryin’ to get rid of me. You’d be lost without me.”

“Oh, absolutely helpless,” you tease, indulging him with a soft, chaste kiss.

Bakugou snorts. “Whatever.”

“Forever, right?”

“Forever,” Bakugou said firmly, resting his forehead against yours. His voice dropped into a quieter, almost shy tone. “And don’t forget, you’re stuck with me, too. No way I’m lettin’ you go.”

Your heart melted a little at his rare softness, and you kissed his cheek. “Fine, Katsu. I’ll keep you. But only because the return policy’s expired.”

“You’re lucky I love you.”

“No, you’re lucky I love you,” you joked.

“Damn right I am,” he replied, choosing to enjoy this serene moment with you rather than bothering to watch the same old boring fireworks to celebrate the new year an hour later.

Your husband can recreate any fireworks shows any day, anyway.

SEUMYO © 2025, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[flowersforthemachines]

Some facts about Harding gathered from the banters

I went through all companion banters on DanaDuchy's channel after playing the game to write down all facts about companions/the world that I haven't seen brought up anywhere in the game as a writing reference (and for funsies).

Note: the list isn't 100% exhaustive. I may have missed something or didn't write something down because I had heard about it before or considered it common knowledge. If you think there's something that can be added to the post, please DM me or send an ask! (do specify what banter the information is coming from)

Other characters' posts: Bellara, Davrin, Lucanis, the rest to be added later this week

Family and past:

Harding's parents split up a few years ago. Her father lives in Amaranthine. She's okay with that and thinks her parents are happier apart

Harding’s mother never taught her how to cook, she's entirely self-taught

Harding carries around the first letter her Mother sent her after joining the Inquisition

Harding doesn't have siblings 

Harding had a mabari named Contessa who passed away from old age

(If in romance) Taash offers Harding to get a mabari together

Time with the Inquisition:

Back in Skyhold, Solas once told Harding he was sorry dwarves couldn’t dream

Harding thinks that if she had never joined the Inquisition, she probably would’ve got married and tended to goats

Harding volunteered for the Inquisition because their soldiers kept scaring the sheep because they all had super old maps. And because she didn't want to spend the rest of her life watching sheep

General: 

Harding likes sandwiches, they are one of her favourite foods 

Harding finds Treviso very beautiful (who doesn’t) 

Harding would bring a bow, clean socks and a spoon to a deserted island

Harding likes books about blood and gore

Harding doesn't like killing, but she doesn't feel bad about it. She compares it to farmers having to kill wild animals that get too close to their land, as sometimes a quick kill can prevent more suffering (i.e. if a wolf gets inside your sheepfold, your own animals will die in pain)

She says that this kind of mindset is the reason why a lot of Inquisition scouts came from farmers, as they need to kill people when necessary (even if those people aren’t their enemies personally), but don’t go out looking for it

Harding likes almonds. They are crunchy :) 

Harding is fascinated by Minrathous’s nightlife 

Harding doesn't drink alcohol 

Harding really likes puns

Harding has fought a Stormrider dragon before 

Harding has a detailed and decorated scrapbook with her kills (with doodles. Including a cute giant spider)

Harding never visited Nevarra before the Veilguard, though she had heard of Cumberland’s Summer Exhibition. Emmrich disregards it as just a market with a horse show 

Dwarves and magic:

Harding finds herself more hungry than usual since getting hew new powers

Neve and Emmrich hypothesise that Harding developing Titan powers may have increased her lifespan (or even granted her eternal life) 

Harding describes using her magic as “touching something vast and eternal, a well, deep inside”. Lucanis says that it sounds similar to him using his demon powers

Relationships with companions:

Bellara, Neve and Taash call her “Lace”. Davrin and Lucanis call her “Harding”

Emmrich calls her "Harding" most of the time, though he calls her "Lace" on two occasions (in a banter about Emmrook, and the one where he talks about seeing her aura differently after he becomes a Lich)

Harding grows special plants for Davrin to help him mask the griffon smell in his room

Harding grows truffles for Assan

Harding lets Assan sleep on her

To Lich!Emmrich, Harding appears different from other dwarves. She has a special aura (but it comes and goes)

Harding buys an enchanted barbed arrow to take out Lucanis/Spite if push comes to shove. She later tries to give it to Lucanis and apologises, but he insists she keeps it as a sign of his trust

Harding finds Teia intimidating because she is “polished” (Lucanis disagrees but notes she keeps good track of all utensils Viago poisoned at the table) 

Teia called Harding fearless in a conversation with Lucanis

Harding invites Neve to her house in Ferelden after Neve's apartment in Minrathous burns down, in case she wants to get away from the Lighthouse 

Harding is very excited about Neve taking over the Threads (“Do they have to kiss your hand?”) and wishes she were a crime boss

Harding once dreamt of Neve stealing her strawberry tarts

Harding starts humming Taash’s name to herself after they get together

About gifts from Taash: 

Harding doesn’t use the archery bracer because it feels so special she’s afraid it could get lost or get dirty

She also doesn’t wear the hairpin because she’s afraid to lose it

Taash got the cheese in Minrathous

Conclusion: get Harding cheese, it’s the only thing she isn’t afraid to actually use

Garden and plants: 

It's enough to mention a plant for it to start growing in Harding’s garden

The Fade plants normally don’t need tending. However, they may begin to wilt if that’s what you expect them to do 

Smuggler’s Rose clouds the person’s mind if you are wearing it like perfume, letting you pickpocket other people more easily

Sage bane mixed with troll moss can be used to treat toenail fungus

[didhewinkback]

new years day

short & sweet & unedited new years blurb from the something old universe

---

The frigid January air whips through the wind, making your heavy winter coat feel like it's barely a t-shirt. You look out across the pond, the sun barely rising over the clouds, its vast beauty making your breath catch in your throat. There’s really no place like home. 

January 1st, 2025. How the fuck did that happen? 

You feel solid weight against your back as he wraps an arm across your chest, pulling you against him and leaving his arm there, holding you close. He ducks his head to nuzzle into your neck, taking a deep breath as his hand tightens on your shoulder. 

“‘S no skinny dip in the Caribbean, is it?” he mumbles against your neck and you hum in agreement, the memory of that night from your honeymoon making warmth flow through you. The haziness from the multiple drinks, the look in his eyes when you slipped your bikini top off, how tightly his hands held you once he dove in after you. Not feeling so cold anymore.

He uses his free hand to tilt your face back towards his, leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss. You let yourself get lost in it, this mouth you’ve been kissing for almost 5 (!) years now. The way he always pulls you just that much closer as his tongue slides across yours, the pleased sounds he makes into your mouth when you kiss him back just the way he likes. 

“Happy New Year”, he mumbles against your mouth and you grin, muttering your own “Happy New Year” back before pressing one more kiss to his mouth.

He pulls you back against him in a squeeze before stepping back and starting to unzip his jacket.

“Y’ ready?” he asks and you nod, mirroring him as you take your own jacket off, instantly bouncing from one foot to the other when the cold hits your bare skin, the swimsuit doing little to keep you warm in the moments before. He takes your jacket from you, laying it on the chair next to his, placing it with its back against the seat so you will be able to instantly pull it on when you get out. 

He pulls his hat off and leans over to pull yours off as well, lips quirking when he sees you're still doing the small bounce move. He places both hats on the chair and comes up behind you, your bouncing attempts to keep warm instantly ceasing when both of his arms wrap around your chest, holding you tight against him as he walks both of you over to the edge of the dock. 

He rubs his hands up and down your arms, smacking a kiss to your cheek before taking his spot next to you. 

“See you in 20?” you ask. 

It’s your usual routine whenever you join the cold water swims, both diving in and swimming laps until you absolutely have to get out. He simply shakes his head, reaching for your hand and interlacing his gloved fingers with yours. 

“Would quite like to jump in with my wife, if that’s alright with her.” he says, gaze softening as he looks at you, his thumb brushing along the back of your hand. He gets this look in his eyes sometimes that just knocks the breath out of you, never knowing someone could hold that much love for you in a single look and he’s doing it right now and you just can’t believe you’ll get to spend the rest of your life being looked at like that. 

“Yeah, suppose it is.” you say softly with a grin and he brings your connected hands up to his mouth to press a kiss to the back of your hand. “Really love you, you know.”

“Really love you, too.” he says, his matching grin growing wider as yours does. “Ready to jump into the new year together?”

“Ugh, now I’m not.” you groan and he honks out a laugh. “That was gross.”

“Come on, you loved it.”

“Debatable.”

“Y’ gonna fucking freeze unless you jump in with me now, baby.” he says and you grumble in agreement though a smile is breaking through and he squeezes your hand tighter. “Ready? 3..”

The cusp of a new year ahead, one that will see you celebrating one year of marriage, five years together, and continuing to build your life together. Your family. Both of you looking at each other in awe at the party the night before, tucked away in a corner, when you casually mentioned it could be one of the last years you’re celebrating just the two of you. 

“…2…”

And you’re ready for it all, no matter what this life throws at you, whether it's his job or your job or family or friends or everything all at once, no matter what, you will have each other. 

“1!”

And you jump.

--

a/n: thought of this yesterday and wrote this today it has nothing to do w the epilogue that will one day appear just wanted to write something as a new years treat. lmk what u think !!

taglist:@tobesolovelysstuff, @louyoursins, @daydreamingofmatilda, @jojo-blog53, @marzhshaim, @devilsqueen722, @just-happiness-only,@lomlhstyles, @feestyles, @spock4presidnet, @sunshinemoonsposts, @indierockgirrl, @jerseygirlinca, @kissitnhekitchen, @goldnrry,

[viharbinger]

can i request a fred weasley x slytherin (maybe someone from black family) reader? thank u so much!!

๋࣭ ⭑ The Lion and the Snake

Pairings: Fred Weasley x Reader

plotline: reader is a Slytherin with a death eater family. You're kinda disconnected from them and gives valuable information to the order of the phoenix, letting you stay at Grimmauld Place— where the notorious troublemaker Fred Weasley is. not to mention his giant crush on you.

A/n: I would like to do Fred x reader from the black family but I can't because I think it's kinda weird I'm sorrey 😭

Warnings: mentions of blood and violence and also it's a bit rushed sorry I was writing until 5am and didn't even sleep plus it's a school night😭💔

Grimmauld Place was where you and Fred Weasley met each other for the first time. Surely as fellow Hogwarts students, you've met each other before once or twice, right? Nope! You were part of the Slytherin house and he was in Gryffindor and shared only one class together.

But you've definitely seen him before for sure, whenever he and his identical twin were getting detention or losing house points very loudly in class. Even when you've been ushered out of the library when it was starting to get late at night, you'd notice the twins sneaking off somewhere from their tower.

They'd never taken the initiative to talk to you, though, as they never really needed to. But Fred does notice the way you've been targeted for your family name. Even Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson might try to talk with you to join forces but you just ignore them everytime, earning some foul expressions in return.

Yet he can't seem to ignore the fact that you're breathtaking. He can't believe it himself that he's thinking of you in such a way.. And he definitely lingered his eyes on you a little too long one time during the Yule Ball. Eventually, he started asking people around what you're like, what you're up to if you left the class abruptly or who you went to the Yule Ball with— which was weeks ago.

He could never catch you alone though. You would somehow always blend into the crowd and disappear or just be too busy with something else to be talking to anyone.

Fast forward, you spent the last few months sharing information with your favourite teacher, Professor Lupin on some information about the death eaters' plans you heard from your family which granted you a spot in Grimmauld Place. Your family isn't exactly the kindest folk and will likely not even notice you gone for a whole summer.

Everything Fred's ever thought about you became old and he could learn everything about you all over again— properly.

"Fred, right?" That was probably the first time he's ever heard your voice. Well, the first time he's ever heard it clearly because he'd only ever hear you softly whisper questions to the teachers privately about upcoming tests. And he wouldn't lie... He liked your voice. He liked the way you said his name.

"The one and only." He jests, sticking a hand out for you to shake. You beamed up at him and proudly shake his hand. He had an eruption of butterflies all over his stomach there, but painfully ignored it.

"How come I've never met you in Hogwarts?" He questions, even though he perfectly knows why. The question colors your face into a darker hue, "Well, I just didn't really like talking to people." You shrugged.

"Not even me? I'm sure me and my brother have been quite the topic is every conversation these days." He boasts, to which you laugh at. "No.. I've just been a little busy with my own studies is all." A little busy? He's been trying to catch you at every opportunity! "Are you sure you're a Slytherin? Seems like you're an overachieving Ravenclaw to me." He teases, peering over the books you held up to your chest.

"I plan to do something big in the future." You smiled before walking off. That's definitely the most he's ever heard you say in one sitting. Has something changed you over the summer or what? Not that he doesn't like it of course.

Despite your efforts in telling the Order some truths and details, Molly wouldn't let you in on the meetings because you were too young. Like Harry, Fred and the rest of the group, they were frustrated about it!

๋࣭ ⭑

After a quidditch match between Slytherin and Gryffindor, Draco Malfoy couldn't keep it in himself to make fun of the Weasleys. He got a little too far and started insulting Molly and the aftermath of it wasn't pretty at all. Draco got beat up by George and Harry, Fred had to be restrained by his teammates, and Umbridge started being unfair again.

She took away Fred, George and Harry's brooms and positions in their quidditch team permanently. This earned a foul mood from Fred the entire week, which even got you concerned.

You finally got him to alone one day outside the Gryffindor tower when you were on your way down to the library. "Hello, Fred. Fancy a study with me at the library?" All of a sudden, his bad mood seemed to falter. But he hates the idea of studying now that he's realised his dreams, honestly— which was to open up the joke shop with George. Not to mention he was planning to cook up some more products to ruin Umbridge's day at the moment. But this was the first time you've ever invited him somewhere and he wasn't going to say no!

At the library, you sat side by side sharing a book, awfully close to each other. "I've heard you lost your broom and can't play for Gryffindor anymore. I'm sorry about that." You whispered, not looking up from the book. "Sorry for what? It just gives me more reason to need to ruin Umbridge's life." He grinned, completely forgetting about the book in front of him.

"I saw you earlier, you looked like you were throwing daggers behind Malfoy's head—" You were about to say but was cut off by his words. "Let's not talk about that right now. I want to know more about you." He says suddenly, earning an eyebrow raise from you.

"What do you want to know?" You eyed him carefully, earning a nervous feeling from him. "I just wanna know what my favourite Slytherin is up to these days." He shrugged casually. "I've been busy reading up on the syllabus lately and decided to watch your game a few days ago." You start off.

"Fred, you've got to do something about her! She's driving me mad! I could barely take enough from the other Slytherins, let alone her!" You suddenly exclaim before he could form up a response to the first thing you said. He's never heard you be so worked up over something, earning a sharp glare from Madame Pince the librarian.

"Okay, okay. I was planning to anyway. Just hold on, because me and George are gonna give her hell." He whispers to you, earning a lovely smile on your face which he wants permanently etched onto his mind. "Promise me that. I don't want to see Ron get his broom taken away either." You held up your pinky to him.

Ignoring the temperature rising in his face, he hooks his pinky around yours. "I'll do it for your sake so you don't end up in Azkaban for something worse." He jokes so you wouldn't notice how giddy that childish pinky promise got to him.

๋࣭ ⭑

Weeks go by and the school was taken over by Umbridge. Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy were giving you a hard time everyday for some reason. One day, you spoke out of turn with Pansy when she started probing you on why you never talk to anyone, earning a hard slap on the face.

Then, came the blood out your nose. No amount of tissues could help you out then. As onlookers go by, Fred was walking around with George when he notices your never ending nose bleed. He ushers George away before you could look up at them, earning a smug look from the other twin.

"What happened? You alright there?" He immediately sits by you, patting your back. "Pansy." You grunted, keeping the tissues over your nose. "That slithering...!" He was about to stand up but you pulled him down.

"Shut up and help me. I know you can fix this, that's why you're here, right?" You glared at him, your innocent and shy facade seemed to be replaced by a true Slytherin at the moment.

"Oh. Right." He quickly pulls out a purple coloured sweet from his pockets and hands it over to you. A few seconds went by and the iron taste in your tongue and blood were finally fading. "Perhaps I didn't take care of myself properly these days to be bleeding this much over a slap..." You muttered, fidgeting the wrapper and tissues in your fingers.

"Maybe you should put down the books for a change. I know our exams are coming up but you could use a little relaxation." He smoothly slides his arm over your shoulder, inching closer to you. "Your product really worked! You must be really clever to be able to pull this off. Is this what your mum gets so worked up about at Grimmauld?" You exclaim, examining the wrapper closely.

Perhaps the praises he was getting from you was making his stomach do flips. He was up close and personal with you now, to tell you something over the noise of the students walking by.

"Well... Okay, I'll let you in on a little secret. I—" He was cut off by a magical force that pulled you and Fred apart. "Remember the rules, children!" Umbridge tuts with her wand out, and walks past you both with her loud heels echoing in the hallway.

That interaction certainly made you both blush a dark hue, even though you weren't about to do anything... Were you? "I'll be seeing you then. Thank you for... This." You stood up to clear the tension, waving the wrapper to show what you meant. "Oh, yeah. Don't worry about it." He plays it off as you walked away.

He sighs and brushes his hair and mentally curses that god awful Umbridge. Why did she have to come by just then?

๋࣭ ⭑

Fred and George just played the craziest prank on Umbridge. They disrupted the O.W.Ls with their charmed fireworks- beautiful fireworks. They have always said they wanted to do something outside of their academics, so they wouldn't really care if they were expelled.

Their act of bravery became legend, they were now even conversation expressions. Students were now pulling pranks on Umbridge as well and saying "I'm about to pull a Weasley!" It was really funny. But you never got to see the twins after that because you were still stuck in school with your nose in books, dreadfully waiting for the next holiday break to see them.

The most dreadful day for the Order came. Sirius Black passed away from the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. And the announcement of Voldemort returning for good was grim. Everyone was dreadful and sad for weeks.

However, the opening of the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes brought smiles upon faces and yours too. You've finally got the chance to meet your favourite Weasley twin.

"Thought I'd never see you come by, L/n." Fred says, puffing out his chest to show off his new outfit. "Fred, this store is amazing! And you're looking dapper." You gasp, looking him up and down.

"Oh, you make me blush." He plays it off. "Can we have a chat? I think George can handle himself for a little bit, no?" You tugged on his sleeve, slowly pulling him towards the entrance. "You mean I can get away from him? Don't mind If I do." He laughs, looking at George for a moment before following you outside.

The outside of the store was depressing. Not many shops were open and the mood was different compared to the inside. Ever since the attacks from the death eaters and Voldemort, everyone's been too scared to be outside.

You hugged Fred tightly the moment you got him out. "I missed you. Why couldn't you wait to get expelled till it was our exams?" You whined, swaying him back and forth.

"If I knew you'd miss me this much, I wouldn't have done it." He pats your back, dropping his head onto yours. "I loved those fireworks you did, it was brilliant! Smart! And your store... I can't believe you're really making it out there." You gush, looking at the store.

"Yeah, well... Me and George just thought people needed a laugh these days." He shrugs it off like as if his insides aren't fluttering right now. Has the weeks that had gone by while he was gone made you even more gorgeous?

"I think you're amazing with what you do, Fred." You lowered your voice. Was it just him, or was the street getting really quiet, too? The proximity between the two of you was getting closer. "I just did what I thought was right." He pretends to not notice the warmth from your body being so close to him.

"I'm sorry but would you mind if we... Kissed?" He quickly says, clearly frustrated by how painful the tension was. "Not at all." You replied, your face just inches from his. And the gap closed.

You were kissing... You and Fred were kissing! You couldn't believe it yourself. You reckon it was the quiet street driving you mad to start kissing this troublemaker. Your left hand were clenching his hair, the other on his cheek. His was on either side of face, like as if you'll run away if he lets go. The kiss was so soft and sweet, he wanted more. But you had to let go when George called out for Fred to come back.

"I'm not done with you, yeah? I know you've graduated, so you can certainly come back here anytime. So.... Come back here, soon?" He looks at your eyes with so much love. "Why are you talking to me like I'm not already dating you?Of course I will." You joked, beaming up at him before slowly letting go of him.

For the rest of the day, Fred was buzzing with excitement and excitedly promoted products to his customers with even more enthusiasm. George thought he's lost his mind.

© This is my works please don't steal or copy.

Like and reblog to help a girl out!

[short-honey-badger]

Peppermint Tea 38 - Epilogue

This one is short and sweet. Just a little snippet of what their lives look like. It's purely self-indulgent, but i hope you guys enjoy! This is the last of Peppermint Tea! ❤️

Peppermint Tea Masterlist-> HERE

Joy couldn't contain her excitement. She would be a whole TEN YEARS OLD today, and her Papa was finally on his way back, and with Presents! Just for her! He even promised she wouldn't have to share with her older sister OR her older brother! She was practically vibrating with uncontrollable glee and grinned widely at her Father and Momma when she heard the dark-haired man huff at her. 

“If I didn't know any better, I'd say you prefer Papa over either of us, snowflake,” you tease, and Joyeuse stuck her tongue out at her momma, golden eyes narrowed in a parody of her father's signature look. 

“Nooo. I love you all equally,” she insists but it just makes her parents snicker even more. 

“Mhmm. Sure, and Papa doesn't give the best gifts either, huh?” You press, and Joyeuse frowns, a thoughtful look on her pink-cheeked face. 

“Well,” she draws out and kicks the ground, “Papa does have the best presents.” 

“I knew it. See, darling. She does love us as much as Shanks,” Mihawk joins in, and is rewarded by his daughter huffing and crossing her arms, lips pursed in a pout that looks too much like the redheads. 

“You're supposed to be nice to me today, Father. It's my birthday.” 

A dusty laugh interrupts the picking, and the three of you turn to see Tomura leaning in the doorway, a disapproving look on his face. 

“That's exactly right. Are they giving you a hard time, sweetheart?” 

Joyeuse squeals and launches herself at her uncle. He had promised to be here for her birthday, and she'd been skeptical at first. Her uncle was always so busy now that he had such an important job in the Navy, so a lot of the time he had to cancel their plans. She was happy that today wasn't one of those times. 

“Yes! They've been picking on me all day, uncle! Maybe you should arrest them,” she says and grins so that her parents know that she is joking. Joyeuse would never want her uncle to have to take her parents to the scary prison that he'd told her about before. She'd fight him herself if he ever tried! 

Tomura laughs, green eyes crinkling in glee as he swings his niece up and she wraps her gangly arms around his neck, clinging to his back like a spider monkey, “Well, if the birthday girl wishes.” 

“Oh, nooo. Whatever shall we do against a fearsome Navy Admiral?” You tease and make a swooning motion, “Only someone super strong could take him on.” 

“Someone like me?” 

Joyeuse whips around at the voice, golden eyes going wide when she finds Papa standing behind her, a small crate tucked under his arm as he grins at her. She drops from her uncle and runs for the redhead who sets the crate down just in time to open his arm and scoop his daughter up, swinging her around with a laugh. 

“You're here!” She squeals and clutches her Papa in a hug with all her might. She eyes the crate at his feet, eyes wide and curious, “Is that mine?” 

Shanks nods and walks further into the living room, joining you on the sofa and adjusting his daughter so that she sits on his lap, “Yup. It's a special gift. So I figured you'd want to open it last.” 

Joyeuse pouts a bit, but knows that begging wouldn't get her anywhere, even on her special day, “Okayyyyy.” 

She grins when the adults around her laugh, but then she remembers that her party is supposed to start when Papa gets home, so she rounds on him, golden eyes shining with anticipation, “Can we have cake now?” 

You stand and ruffle your daughter's shaggy red hair, smiling at the way she pouts at you and swats away your hand, “Yup. Let me go get it and I'll be you guys outside, how about that?” 

Mihawk stands, stopping long enough to kiss his husband on the brow and poke Joyeuse in the forehead gently, a small smirk on his lips, “I'll go help her.” 

Joyeuse slides from her Papa's last and grabs his hand, leading him to the door of their home. They lived on a big island on the outskirts of Buggy Town, so they had a big front yard that all of her family had put in effort to decorate. There were streamers and balloons galore, and even a big banner that had Happy Birthday Joyeuse written in big bubble letters. 

Outside, she finds that there has been a table set up to the side, overflowing with gifts. Her other uncles, Buggy, Crocodile, Katakuri are mingling with her older brother and his crew. 

Shanks watches his daughter run forward and greet everyone, laughing loudly when Luffy grabs her and tosses her high in the air, catching her ease and setting her back on the ground. He can't help but laugh when Buggy snatches her up next, already shouting at the snickering young man about being more careful! 

The clown had gotten his ass chewed by Mihawk and his wife both after making Joy cry when she was a toddler, thinking that she would find his dismembered head funny at the tender age of three. Now he was almost just as overbearingly protective of the little girl as her fathers. His son's crew laughs along with their captain, and Shanks couldn't be happier with how everything had turned out today. 

Joyeuse is passed along her guests, and you come out just in time to see Crocodile giving your daughter an early birthday present. Your eyes go soft when she hugs the absolutely massive, stuffed bananagator to her chest, a grin so wide that it could make the sun look dim. 

“Joyeuse, cake?” you call to her, and the little girl zooms to your side, holding out the stuffed animal and chattering your ear off about how cool and dangerous it looks. You smile indulgently and then gesture to the cake you hold. It towers high with bright pink icing and chocolate sponge hidden underneath, “Tell Uncle Katakuri thank you. He's the one who gave me the recipe for the cake.” 

Joyeuse nods diligently and marches over to the man who sits to the side, towering over everyone there. She beams at her uncle, “Thank you, Katakuri. Your cakes are the best every year!” 

He laughs, his smile wide under his scarf, and reaches down to pat the top of her head, smirking when Joy latches into his hand and he lifts her into the air, “Anytime Tiny. I hope you've had a good day so far.” 

“The best! I was worried that Papa wouldn't make it in time, but he came home with a special gift! I'm not supposed to open it until after everything else!” 

You cock a brow at Shanks. You'd heard him inside and had been curious, but hadn't wanted to ruin any kind of surprise he might have in store for their daughter, “You spoil her.” 

“As she should be,” Mihawk voices from behind you, and slides close, kissing the back of your head, his hands full of a large tub of ice cream. 

“What he said,” Shanks says with a snicker and you roll your eyes at the men who you call husband. You follow after Mihawk and set the cake on the table, calling your daughter over so that she can sit at the head and everyone can sing happy birthday. 

After cake and ice cream, presents come next. Joyeuse is excited and grateful for every one of them, beaming at each person under the brim of the replica straw hat that Luffy had dropped on her red hair before she'd begun to open her presents. Joyeuse rounds on her Papa once the last present was placed away, “Now, Papa?” 

Shanks laughs and nods, stepping forward and placing the crate in front of her. He looks at her, his tone dropping into something serious. 

“This is a very special gift, Joyeuse, and I want you to think long and hard about if it's something that you want, okay?” 

Joyeuse schools her expression, and you can't help but grin at how much she looks like Mihawk when she does, “Okay, Papa.” 

Shanks looks at her for another second before he nods and reaches out to unlatch the crate, and you peek over your daughter's shoulder, curious about what is inside. 

Carefully, Joy plucks what can only be a devil fruit out of the crate. It is dark purple in color with an intricate swirling pattern, and she turns it this way and that with a look of awe. She looks at Papa, lip tucked between her lips in thought before she asks, “Which one is it?”

Shanks gives her a small smile, “It's called the Inku Inku fruit. It allows you to create, manipulate, and even turn into Ink. I know it's not the most flashy fruit out there, but it can be useful.” 

Mihawk kneels at his daughter, taking in her expression and smiling gently at her, “You don't have to make the decision now, sweet girl. Take your time to make your choice.” 

Joyeuse nods, a smile spreading across her face as she tucks the fruit back into the crate. She was terribly excited, and the urge to chomp into the fruit was almost overwhelming, but she pushed it away, “I'll be smart, Father. I promise.” 

Mihawk pats her head and then stands beside his wife and husband. He is content that his daughter is happy, and that he is surrounded by the ones that he loves. He'd never thought that this was how his life would turn out after drifting to an unknown island near the calm belt, but the swordsman didn't regret a thing.

@writingmysanity @djbumblebee @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz @fluffybunnyu @bookandstar @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @anastasiyax @jaguarthecat @atricksterwithwings @black-swan-blog27 @breadedloafs @enpvrirnce @gottalovethefandom @mfreedomstuff @caniseethefourthsword @olenoname @glitterystarfishfestival

[candycandy00]

The skeleton of an idea I had for a Kid x Reader fic. I might write a full version when I get time!

You’re a childhood friend of Kid’s. You were very close as children and he was very protective of you. He even said he wanted to marry you when the two of you grew up. 

After he left to become a pirate, you missed him terribly. You were excited to see his wanted poster, and you thought he looked so handsome. You’d always been in love with him. 

One day you decide you can’t wait any longer, you have to find him and ask to join his crew, even if you just cook or clean. So you go looking for him. 

You get kidnapped, and end up at a strange and terrifying “human auction” with a collar around your neck. They bring you out on stage to sell you, and you watch in horror as rich old men prepare to make bids.

As your eyes scan the crowd, you notice someone tall standing near the back. It’s Kid! You’d recognize him anywhere, even though it’s been years since you saw him last.

At the same time, Kid is watching the auctions out of morbid curiosity when you, a beautiful young woman, are brought out on stage. He jokes with his crew about buying you. But the longer he looks at you, the more familiar you seem. When you look at him, and your eyes meet his, he knows. He’s certain you’re the girl he loved years ago, the girl he wanted to marry someday. 

An older man is sitting a few feet away, talking loudly to his friend about how much he wants to buy you, shamelessly outlining all the depraved things he intends to do to you. He even laughs and says he loves to torture his sex slaves and watch them cry. 

The bidding begins, and you’re horrified as strange men keep placing bids while Kid remains silent. You look at him pleadingly, hoping he recognizes you. Should you call out to him? Just as you open your mouth to call his name, he suddenly places a huge bid that blows all the others out of the water. 

You’re so relieved, tears fill your eyes. 

Later, you’re taken to his ship. He’s walked right by you several times but hasn’t acknowledged you at all. You suppose he has an image to maintain in public, so you don’t do anything to jeopardize that. 

As for Kid, he has no idea what to do with you. He can guess why you came looking for him, but there’s no way in hell he’s letting you join his crew, where you’d be in constant danger and become wanted by the marines. 

His only plan is to pretend he doesn’t remember you and drop you off at the next populated island. In the meantime, he’ll be an asshole to you so you’ll never pull a stunt like this again. He’d much rather you hate him in safety than love him in danger. 

The first time he approaches you on his ship, in the privacy of his quarters, you run over to hug him. He doesn’t hug you back, instead lightly pushing you away. He denies knowing you, even when you tell him your name, even when you talk about things from your shared childhood. 

You know he’s lying and you tell him so, saying you came to join his crew, to help in any way you could because you miss him. 

His response is to tell you he doesn’t need you, he doesn’t remember you, and he’s dumping you on the next island. You argue, just like you did as kids. You’re not intimidated by him at all, even if he tries to act like a big scary pirate. You’ve known him too long for that. 

In frustration, and desperation to scare you away, he slams his hand into the wall beside you and leans down, looking as menacing as possible as he tells you to shut up and leave him alone. If you can’t be a good little slave, he’ll have his way with you. 

You blink up at him, heat rushing to your face as you give him a shy smile and say you’ve been hoping for that all along. 

He very quickly turns his back to you, swearing as he stomps out of the room. Out of your view, he curses himself for his own lack of control. He’s been with women before, one night stands during his travels, but he’s never been with someone he loves before. Now his face is red, like a damn virgin, at the thought of throwing you across his bed and fucking you until morning. 

That evening is torture for him, knowing the woman he’s loved for years is in his quarters, waiting for him, wanting him. He tries to resist, tries to avoid you and just focus on literally anything else. But, well, Kid is strong but he’s not that strong. 

He suddenly bursts back into the room, throwing off his captain’s coat as he goes. Within seconds he’s pulled your thin dress over your head and got you pinned against the wall, your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck as he plunges his huge, hard cock into your dripping pussy. 

You can only moan and whimper into his mouth as he kisses you, giving you everything you’ve been wanting from him. Hours later, after you’ve exhausted each other in many different positions, you’re lying in his bed, wrapped in his arms. 

He confesses that he never forgot you, that he never stopped thinking of you, but he still can’t take you with him. It’s too dangerous, and you’d end up being a weakness for his enemies to target. Reluctantly, you agree. He promises to come back and make you his Pirate Queen someday. 

The plan is to drop you off at the next safe island, but it’s at least a week away, and the two of you will thoroughly enjoy your time together until then. 

[out-there-tmblr]

Young zaundads wip (19)

***

Benzo accuses them of being joined at the hip and he's not exactly wrong. Those first few weeks of sleeping in that shack, camping out on dirt floors with only a few blankets, he and Silco are barely separated. They end every shift in the mess hall, eating together. With an indulgent smile, Silco will sit there for hours, watching Vander drinking with his friends, scribbling down notes and figures in a small book.

They'll head down to the old mine shafts before curfew, and enjoy the privacy. By dim lantern light, Vander will peel the clothes from Silco's skinny body, will press him down into the blankets and bite and kiss until there's a patchwork of red marks across Silco's chest and thighs. Until Silco has his head turned to the side, panting, whining high in his throat.

They lose hours to that skin-drunk debauchery. Kissing as if it's as vital as breathing, hands desperate for bare skin. He discovers Silco hates having his feet touched and will lash out with vicious kicks if tickled. That his hands almost cover Silco's narrow shoulders, that if he works the tense muscles there, Silco will moan like one of Babette's best. That Silco likes climbing onto his lap, using his body weight to pin down Vander's thighs as they kiss. That he likes fisting Vander's hair to control where he wants him, and that Vander likes that too.

It's intoxicating and new. More than once, Vander's woken up to find Silco already awake, body curled against him for warmth, and started kissing him – even knowing they won't have time to do much before they need to be dressed and heading to the courtyard, to the wash rooms and mess hall.

It's that foolish hunger for more of Silco's time that has Vander volunteering for level three shifts. Silco laughs at him, jokes that Vander's shoulders won't even fit in those tunnels, but he quickly claims Vander as a partner when the work is assigned.

They make a good pair. Vander digs cracks into the bedrock by sheer force, and then Silco shimmies into the narrow gap, laying explosive charges as deep as he can reach. On one, Silco has to crawl inside the rock, on his elbows and belly, until only his ankles poke out.

"I'm setting the charge," Silco calls out, voice muffled and full of strange echoes. "Go back to the main branch and wait there."

Vander saw how long it took Silco to climb in. He knows how short the fuses are. ("Miners are cheaper than fuses," Silco had said in that sly, judgemental way of his.) He doesn't like Silco's chances of getting clear of the blast.

Wrapping hand around each of Silco's ankles, Vander says, "Tell me when it's set and I'll pull you out."

Silco grumbles something that gets lost in the rocks, and then, "Get ready."

After a count of three he calls out, "Done!" and Vander pulls back as hard as he can. He gets an arm around Silco's waist when it's free, and then he's half carrying and half dragging Silco back out of the new tunnel.

He pins Silco against the wall, shielding him as the explosion rings out, a boom followed by the rumble of rocks falling and moving. Unfortunately, his body doesn't realise it's just a safety precaution. No, his body only knows he's pressed up against Silco's, with too much clothing between them. It's mortifying how quickly it gets him hard.

Vander drops his head to Silco's shoulder when he hears Silco chuckle.

"You have terrible timing," Silco whispers into his ear, warmly amused. He slides fingers under the kerchief tied around Vander's neck, brushing the skin in a soothing tease. "You'll have to wait until tonight."

"Tonight," Vander promises and then they get back to work.

***

[trashisstillhere]

After being outside for quite awhile.. again. I finally get to post this doodle, here!

This is supposed to (kinda) show New Ninja’s relationships/bonds with the few main characters!

I’m also gonna talk about them right here which is why I made this doodle in the first place! And this time, I had written it all down before this. And as you can see, Howard seems to have a slight different design, especially his hair… it actually has something to do with a part of the story! The clothes might be kinda changed tho later.

Anyway, here we go!

(Since English isn’t really my first language, the writing still kinda sucks lol)

————-

Randy:

you all already know this duo! The mentor and his student!!

Just when the kid thought there was no chance for them as the new chosen ninja of Norrisville, the old chosen ninja came right in out of nowhere and somehow things slowly started getting easier for them ever since. he is the reason why they still have hope now today.

To New Ninja, Randy is a good mentor, basically the best one ever! (No offence Nomicon-) and one of their best friends. he gives them the help they need with ninja stuff, supports them and sometimes even cheers them on during battles (while hiding himself so no one will know about two ninjas existing of course.) he sometimes also gives them praises for their hard work, making them very flustered and bashful but they still really appreciate it. The kid always feels safe around him, you could say they got attached to him and so has he with them.

if they have any trouble with something such as not understanding how a certain weapon really works and should be used in battle, big brother Cunningham is always there to teach them!

Yeah you heard me, i said ‘big brother’! Randy Is like a big brother figure to New Ninja, a sibling that the kid has never had but honestly wished they did. One who is so kind and patient with them…and also almost very overprotective over them. No seriously, he is. It mostly shows when, for example: The Nomicon makes the kid have to go do things that could be considered very dangerous or just anything he doesn’t agree with or an enemy he’s familiar with tries to kill them. (This may or may not kinda refer to Mcfist along with that one old comic i did-)

And of course, Randy likes and still keeps calling New Ninja nicknames such as ‘kid’ which is more common.

New Ninja before didn’t know about Randy’s true identity before but now they do after a certain incident (another old comic also showing that), which makes them also get to hang out outside of their ninja lives. However, the kid still calls him ‘ninja’ anyway.

Their bond is very strong and won’t be broken that easily, New Ninja and Randy care for and trust each other deeply and will continue on staying together as the super bruce team they are!…

…….until the day Randy has to mind wipe himself with the ‘ultimate lesson’ in the Nomicon once and for all finally comes…. at least they get to say some last words and goodbyes before that happens.

———-

Howard:

both him and New Ninja barely knew each other at first. To the kid, Howard was just some random guy….that their mentor seemed to always talk to for some unknown reason.

They have seen the two guys together so many times that curiosity got the best of them and they started investigating, soon finally getting the answers they needed and getting to know the chubby guy more! Now in the present, they’re also friends! And after showing their true identity to him, they hang out sometimes too along with Randy.

To New Ninja, Howard is a pretty chill dude to talk to. Both him and Randy were the ones to first introduce them to Gregs game hole along with all the video games to exist, letting them join in all the fun they had been missing out on.

Howard is like the second big brother to the kid, the one who they might sometimes maybe get into crazy yet fun shenanigans with. There are literally times where they both got into some trouble and Randy had to go and help them, he was kinda mad about it but couldn’t stay like that at them for long. After all, they’re his friends who he adores very much.

Their friendship was normal at first but once one certain event with one familiar demon bird (along with a certain more then one tailed fox that was the cause for that said familiar demon birds return) happened which led to Howard being effected (such as his hair getting a…. ’bit more color’ then usual) by it quite a lot, New Ninja started getting extremely worried for him.

Now every time they get to meet again, New Ninja always first checks up on him and ask him if he’s feeling okay. Howard always says he’s fine and waves it off, trying to reassure the kid and calm them down.

But no matter how many times he says he’s okay, New Ninja can’t help but feel guilty for what happened to him…they think it’s their fault.

————

First Ninja:

Now this one’s…a little complicated. The kid currently barely talks to the old legend himself. Why? Cuz he’s kinda afraid of him of course!

To New Ninja, First Ninja is really intimidating. And by intimidating, I mean TERRYFYING. The kid feels so small and pathetic compared to him, thinking that they ALWAYS have to be respectful and obedient around him without a single screw up. He’s the FIRST ninja of Norrisville to exist after all, the last thing they want to do is piss him off in any way, especially after seeing that dragon fire punch of his for the first time during their .

Because of their fear, New Ninja can barely say anything in First Ninjas presence. Meeting Randy for the first time when they just knew him as the ninja was okay, they got used to him pretty quickly…but THE First Ninja!? Oh hell nah-

Now First Ninja on the other hand, doesn’t really hate New Ninja or anything. In fact, he actually wouldn’t mind getting to know them better just like he did with Randy. He doesn’t understand why the kid seems to not talk to him so much, did he do something wrong?

Don’t worry tho, this doesn’t last long. New Ninja will soon slowly warm up to First Ninja later on and they can finally talk to each other more properly, maybe even have the man be a father figure of some kind. But for now, it’ll take a lot of work.

————

Plop plop:

Their relationship is a little bit similar to the one with First Ninjas but opposite and better.

New Ninja wasn’t intimidated by Plop Plop like they were with First Ninja but they still were too anxious to talk to him, he noticed this but it didn’t stop him from trying to talk to them. Though he didn’t try to get all over their personal space, he instead just went easy on them by giving them a chance to speak only if they wanted to and stayed patient with them for as long as he needed to.

Before he knew it, the kid soon finally started replying to him one day and once he heard their voice, he was very thrilled!

To New Ninja, Plop Plop honestly seems like a nice and gentle man. He can even be humorous at times, he was able to get a little giggle out of the kid a few times. He showed the kid that they have nothing to be scared of, that with him, they can tell him anything. And to his delight, they do just that!….well maybe not like EVERY single thing but hey, he got their trust!

Even if Plop Plop may not still currently know much about the stuff in the Morden times/ future yet, he still willingly listens to New Ninja’s ramblings whenever he has the time. He’s just glad to see the kid feel safe around him, it makes him smile.

He is aware of how nervous they are around First Ninja, feeling kinda a little bad for the poor old ninja cuz of it. Right now, he also kinda tries to get the kid to get more used to his ninja friend, yet it ain’t so easy..

————-

And that’s it!

[mybworlds]

Chapter 7

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader (no use of Y/N)

Summary: Javier Peña and his partner can't stand each other, but to take down an old enemy they are forced to work together and pretend to be a complacent married couple.

Series warnings: language , violence, alcohol use, slow burn, angst, mutual pining, smut (18+ MDNI), creampie, oral sex (m and f), fingering, masturbation (m and f), trauma and SA referencing.

Masterlist

Before to start… thank you so much for your likes and reblogs, I really appreciate it ☺️ I'm not an expert on these spy agencies, so if I got something wrong, don't get angry or offended. 😬 And maybe some aspects of Peña's character may change, if it's necessary. 🔎 I don’t know how many chapters the story will have. 📖 If you didn't like this story, it's okay, be kind and move on 🙂

Taglist: @love-affair-with-fandoms; @pedr0swh0r3; @angel98624; @missladym1981; @harriedandharassed if you want to be added let me know.

Thanks @saradika for the divider.

Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner

In his arms you fell asleep again, every now and then you open your eyes when you feel him kissing your shoulder or the hollow between your neck and shoulder. You find yourself smiling and then falling back asleep, still savoring the moments spent with him and basking in the idea that all of this could last forever.

When you wake up about an hour later, you sit up in the middle of the bed, he's lying on his stomach, hugging his pillow, you notice his fake wedding ring and then you look at yours. You see and hear him breathing deeply, everything still seems so sweet and perfect, you slide your fingers very delicately along his back in a caress that almost feels like a farewell. You frown as if gripped by a horrible and painful thought, you can't be with him.

You and him will never be happy together.

Just the thought of having to separate from him hurts, but if your past echoes within you, at the same time you think you can't go back to work and let everyone know that you and him are a couple..

But are you really a couple? Or are you just one of the many women for him? A notch in his infinite scale of seductions and subsequent abandonments?

You turn your head towards him, his lips are half open and he has a sweet, innocent expression that, if possible, almost makes you feel guilty for having these thoughts. However, you tell yourself that it's right to have these qualms about him given his reputation. A few days are not enough to completely erase it.

We should end it here and hope we can ignore what happened, you think.

You get up and go to the bathroom, you lock yourself in and get in the shower and you think that you don't want him to join you in the shower or everything would be even more painful and difficult. It's hard enough as it is, you think as you turn on the jet of cool water that wets your hair and flows down your body.

While you're soaping up, you think that you don't want your coworkers to gossip about you behind your back and say things like, how could Peña get together with a bitch like that? Or again, she who pretended to be indifferent to his attentions, finally gave in and let Peña fuck her, but on the other hand, how could she resist him?

No, you can't stand to hear these sentences or hear snickers behind your back. Better to ignore what happened between you, it's better.

But better for whom?

You and him can't be together.

Better cut this relationship now.

You only know how to make someone suffer.

A thousand thoughts, a thousand words, a thousand doubts, a burning bitterness crowd your head. Javier won't take it well, he won't like it, but you're doing it for his own good. Or maybe you're just doing it for you and you're giving yourself the alibi that you're doing it for Javi too. You find yourself thinking about how sweet he was to you, how he took care of you...

You curl up in a corner of the shower, the water soaks you, streaks your cheeks, and with it hot tears begin to flow and fall down towards the shower tray. It almost feels like your heart is being ripped out, but maybe that's for the best. You couldn't bear the thought that for him you were just someone to have fun with during this time and then move on to another woman.

You dry yourself as best you can before wrapping yourself in a towel and looking at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes are puffy, your features distorted, your hair a still damp and messy mess. You comb your hair, untangling any knots, you think about the words you want to say to Javier, you want to be direct and yet you don't want to hurt his feelings.

You are awakened from these thoughts by Javier knocking on the door, “Is everything okay?”

You take a deep breath, feeling even worse if possible. However, you convince yourself that you are right, even though this choice hurts.

“Yes, I’m comin’,” you answer.

You look at your reflection one last time before going to the door and opening it, Javi is there leaning against the door jamb still half naked. He was obviously about to tell you something, but seeing your eyes swollen from crying he stops and looks at you perplexed.

“What happened?” he asks you, not understanding what could have made you cry like that. “Hey,” he says cupping your cheeks, “what happ...?” he’s about to ask you, when you free yourself from his grip and you move away from him and approach the bed where you let yourself fall.

You feel his gaze on you, you wring your hands, feeling your heart in your throat. You don't know how say out loud the turmoil and the tightness that grips your stomach and heart. You feel terrible.

“Please, talk to me.” he tells you sitting next to you on the bed. You close your eyes and feel the dull beating of your heart, it hurts. It hurts so much. He's been so sweet these days, but you don't want to have to suffer one day because of him. You don't know if when all this is over he'll go back to his old self. You couldn't bear the thought of seeing him go with other women, hearing them murmur about how he made them come, no you can't.

“Whatever was here, in this place, has to end here,” you mutter, head down, unable to look him in the eye.

You are selfish, you must be alone. Those words...

Your heart pounds painfully in your chest, almost as if your own words had stabbed you and you were now bleeding. You can't look at his face, you just imagine his expression and imagine he's hurt and confused. You were together and yet now you're violently pushing him away. You would probably feel the same way: rejected as if you meant nothing to the other person.

The silence that surrounds you almost seems unreal, as if you were suspended in a dimension that doesn't even belong to you. Maybe you’d have preferred him to yell at you, to pull you, in short, a violent reaction, but not that deafening silence that, if possible, hurts you even more.

“I thought it would be best for both of us.” You continue, feeling almost like you're walking on a very thin sheet of ice and on which a slightly heavier pressure is enough to break and make you fall into its icy waters.

You finally hear him make a sound, almost a snort as if what you said bored him. You look at him, “And did you have to cry to tell me that?” he asks you in an annoyed tone, almost as if it were obvious what you told him.

His cold and detached reaction completely throws you off. So, in the end, you really mean nothing to him, you really are one of the many women on his endless list. If his words are as sharp as a sharp blade, his gaze and the expression on his face betray him.

“You expected me to tell you this, right?” he asks you in a tone of someone who already knows the answer and doesn't need confirmation because he knows it's true “Precisely,” he says when he looks up at your face again.

He chuckles getting out of bed and walking towards the nightstand where there is a pack of cigarettes, he takes one, brings it to his lips and lights it up. Another long silence falls between you as he approaches the balcony, opening the shutters and allowing the smoke to escape.

“So the days we spent together have done absolutely nothing to make you understand who I really am.” His is a statement, not a question. He probably wants to sound cold, but the bitterness in his voice gives him away.

“I didn't say that.” you try to say, making sense of the tangled mess of thoughts that are dulling your mind. You hate all this that you started.

“No need. You made your point” he replies, taking another drag on his cigarette turning his back to you.

You don't know what to say, you just know that your own words have backfired on you. Your stomach is in knots and your heart is beating painfully in your chest. You feel terrible making him feel this bad and doing this to you.

You get up and go over to him, not knowing what to say. You look up and notice his eyes are covered in tears, while he stares out the balcony and takes a drag on his cigarette. You see his Adam's apple bob and hear him breathing deeply as if he’s trying hard not to lose control of himself.

“I didn’t say I didn’t want anything to do with you,” you try to clarify, but it just makes things worse.

“You want us to be friends with benefits, after all.” he tells you spitefully, almost turning his head towards you. “But nothing else. Don't worry. Got it.” he tells you, taking another drag and then expel a large amount of smoke.

“Please don't be dramatic,” you tell him running a hand through your hair “We’ll still work together and we’ll always be coworkers.” you add, then pause, searching for the most appropriate words, but none of them seem right.

He tsks shaking his head, “Yes, whatever." He snorts, putting out his cigarette with an expression that is somewhere between anger and disappointment. "Can I just ask what made you change your mind? I mean, you didn’t seem sorry or remorseful after we did…” he sighs shaking his head “let’s forget it,” he tells you, looking up again and waiting for your response.

“I wasn't and I'm not now." You answer him looking him in the eyes and he looks back at you with an unreadable expression, “I just think it's better for both of us to ignore what happened,” you add with a shrug.

He nods, “So there is no danger of anyone thinking you have a heart. This way everyone will still think you’re a bitch,” he continues, but it’s more like he’s talking and reasoning out loud rather than talking to you.

Maybe he hits the nail on the head. Maybe you really prefer to be thought of as heartless. Maybe that way no one suffers. Except you.

You breathe loudly, not knowing exactly what to say. It's better if Javier hates you too, you won't hurt him if you push him away from you.

“I know who you are.” He tells you when you think he's decided not to talk to you anymore. “And you're wrong and you're only hurting yourself.” he sentences looking you in the eyes, you instead lower them as if struck by his words. Yes, he's right, you're going to suffer but you can't do otherwise.

Six months have passed since that evening. You have returned home, each to your own home and life. Fortunately, nothing has happened since the day you arrested El Diablo, you have not heard from him or his henchmen anymore. You have returned to work normally, you dedicate yourself more to seeking information and connections, you are less devoted to action. What you experienced in France has left its mark on you and for the moment has led you behind a desk.

For many, working behind a desk is bad, but not for you. Even better if you can help in this way too.

In these six months, five new colleagues have arrived, two are women and three are men. The two women, Andrea and Maxime, are more or less your age and both have their eyes on Javier, but neither of them has managed to attract his attention at the moment; the three men, Mark, Christian and Paul, are real gentlemen, at least from what you have been able to see. They are almost as stubborn as you and Javier, but if you tell them to do something, they do it without ever going beyond that. They never say or do anything more than they should and this newfound calm is definitely good for you. You really need it.

Your days are marked by a slow and regular rhythm, your actions and words are almost always the same. In this routine, you and Javier don't share a single moment except for the occasional brief, silent glance.

Part of you misses him. You even miss being teased or hearing him talk to you. On the other hand, you think it's a good thing that everything between you ended this way. No drama or tears, that's better.

It hurts you to know that behind that look there’s some form of regret. There’s also a great regret on your part in not having wanted to see if there could actually be something else between you.

You look up at him again, but he's already back to fiddling with some paperwork. You see his absorbed gaze and how he frowns when something doesn't convince him, you see him massage his chin and then light a cigarette.

For your own good, you decide to immerse yourself in the papers and not sit there mulling over your decisions or you risk going crazy. Your work takes up a lot of your time in typing into the computer two reports, one of which is the one you wrote by hand shortly after returning from France.

It's almost nine o'clock at night when you stretch your hands and get up with a small satisfied noise. You turn off the light on your desk, grab your jacket and go out.

You huddle in your jacket as you wait for the bus. The wind is particularly cold and biting today, you just hope you don't have to wait too long.

When you fear that no one will come, you hear a horn that almost makes you jump and then turn in that direction. It's Javier.

“Come on, jump up.” You look at him almost surprised. “I hope you don’t want to wait for that wreck that you don’t even know how long it’ll be until!” he adds, raising an eyebrow.

You zigzag your gaze from one corner of the half-deserted street to the other before opening the car door and getting in. The warmth of the passenger compartment immediately envelops you, making you relax against the backrest and moan with pleasure at this newfound warmth.

“What the fuck were you still doing there? Did you still have that report to finish?” he asks, giving you a quick glance before returning his focus to the road.

You nod, “Yes, I wanted to finish by tonight.”

“And did you succeed?” he asks you.

“Yes,” you reply, rubbing your hands together. “And what are you still doing here?” you ask, turning to face him.

“Andrea invited me for a drink.” You nod, feeling your heart skip a beat and finding yourself looking down, you shouldn’t have this reaction, you shouldn’t feel this way.

“I’m glad to hear that.” You say the last thing you should probably say, but you want to find a way to fill this strange silence.

"Yeah?" he asks you and from his tone you understand that he must be surprised too.

No, you are not.

“Sure.” you grumble, but look outside the car and watch the road pass by.

A strange, embarrassed silence follows, in which the sweetness and the weight of what happened between you comes back to light.

Neither you nor he say anything, you don't know what to say to him. You still feel embarrassed to be so close to him.

“Um, thanks anyway for... for the ride.” you find yourself adding, looking at him sideways as if afraid that your eyes might meet and you might say something that goes beyond the desired formality of your relationship.

“En cualquier momento! (anytime!)” he responds by driving slowly and confidently, almost as if he wants the journey to last much longer. Or maybe that's just how you interpret it.

Silence stretches between you again. You don’t know what to say to him. You were afraid something like this could happen.

“So, um.. what do you think of the new colleagues?” he asks you and you are surprised that he asks you for an opinion. But then you realize that it’s just a way to fill that numbing silence.

“Well, um.. the three boys are very friendly, cooperative and very prepared.” you answer, carefully choosing your words to describe them. You then turn to Javier and notice his perplexed look, “What?”

He shakes his head gently, he doesn't seem annoyed, but it's as if he's trying hard not to express his true thoughts. You see him purse his lips and then let out a small sigh.

“I'm not dating any of them,” you say even though you're not sure he really cares to know, but a part of you almost feels like you owe him this information.

His eyes are fixed on the road and he doesn't comment on your sentence, but you notice how his shoulders relax slightly and how the car is slowing down and then stops.

You barely notice that you are in front of your apartment building.

“Here we are.” he says pulling the handbrake almost straining to stare straight ahead.

“Here we are.” you repeat almost embarrassed and then turn your gaze towards him “So, um… thanks.”

He turns to you, stares into your eyes for a long time as if he wanted to say something else, but then gives up, lowers his gaze for a moment and then stares straight ahead again, “No problem.” he says simply “G’ night,” he adds.

You open the door, you're about to get out, but then you think better of it, you turn to him and he finally returns your gaze again, "Do you want to tell me something?"

You swallow as you feel like thousands of words are competing to be shouted and heard, but then you find yourself choking them all down, “No.” You reply, “And you?”

He takes a deep breath, but it sounds more like a sigh, “No.”

You nod, “See you tomorrow.” He nods, as you get out of the car and grab your keys to enter your building. As you close the door, you hear Javi’s car drive away.

Your heart pounds in your chest and for a moment, a long moment, you wonder what it would have been like if you hadn't said those words to him in your room, you linger on that fantasy for a while, regretting it soon after, only to tell yourself that you shouldn't think about it anymore, but not doing so will be really hard. When you are together the air inevitably charges with an electricity that passes through you and connects you in a way that pushing it away almost hurts.

You've been lying in bed for almost an hour, but all you do is stare at the ceiling. Javier and his gaze, Javier and his words are right there in front of you.

When you are about to fall asleep, your stepfather's words reverberate in your head with such force that you almost jump out of bed. You haven't thought about him in a while, but when you do, a feeling of remorse, guilt, and even shame wells up inside you. You weren't guilty, but your stepfather did everything he could to make you feel that way.

You remember that day all too well. It was a summer day, you wanted to swim at all costs, but the sea was very rough. You and your brother were two kids, you certainly didn't have the same perception of danger that your parents had.

You were a lively little thing, always smiling, reckless. Your brother was your exact opposite, shy, fearful, too cautious, a bit sulky. Your brother didn't have the same father as you, but you always felt like a brother to you. You loved each other very much. You would have done anything for each other, even doing something crazy just to not leave the other alone and so on that crucial day.

He followed you despite not being a great swimmer, a series of waves, one stronger than the other, knocked you down. You survived, he didn't.

When you came to and were informed of the tragedy, you cried, you sobbed his name and it was then that your stepfather thundered “It’s useless for you to cry now, you are a disaster, a catastrophe. Everyone around you dies, you were supposed to die. You don't deserve anyone's love because you pay back like this.”

Timid tears stream down your cheeks at the memory of those terrible words, you were a child then, but those words have dug so deep inside you that since then you have shied away from relationships with anyone. Even if it hurts to be alone, maybe it's better that way. You can't really hurt anyone. Except yourself.

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　MIGRAINE

spencer reid x reader

SUMMARY: Spencer has suffered from headaches since his teenage years, but nothing like the one he's experiencing now. When a bad migraine decides to hit him during his work time, Y/N is right there to help him, just like she promised she always would.

WARNING: Somewhere between ep 11 and 12 from season 6 | Migraine, pain, throwing up, Spencer being "babied" and taken care of (just like it should've happened when he had his migraines).

REQUESTED?: No.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The first time Spencer Reid experienced a migraine, he was sixteen years old. At the time, he had chalked it up to stress. It wasn’t unusual for him to push his mind and body to the limit; classes by day, independent studies by night, and taking care of his mom full-time.

But, like most things in his life, Spencer adapted. He found ways to manage the episodes, learning which triggers to avoid. Over time, the migraines became something he lived with. He rarely talked about them; they felt too personal, too vulnerable. And vulnerability wasn’t something he had been taught to show, not in childhood and certainly not in his line of work now.

Since joining the FBI, the migraines have remained manageable. Sure, the stress of chasing unsubs and staring at evidence under glaring lights could sometimes bring on a headache, but they were rare enough that he didn’t worry. Until today.

The pain started as a faint pressure, a dull throb behind his eyes as soon as he woke this morning with a call from Hotch, Y/N's warm body against his own doing nothing to ease it, but he had dismissed it, thinking it was just lack of sleep since they've just got back from a case in New Mexico.

Y/N's eyes were sure to catch it all, how his shoulders were more hunched, his steps just a touch slower, and the faint crease between his brows that seemed to just stay there. She knew his body language like the back of her hand; something was off.

But Y/N didn’t hover or prod. She knew Spencer’s rhythm, his boundaries, and she knew that he didn’t need her hovering or asking every ten minutes if he was okay - he hated that. She trusted Spencer to come to her if it became too much.

Instead, she slid a small glass of water and Spencer's usual medication across the counter to him, pairing it with a piece of toast slathered in butter and his first cup of coffee.

She didn’t say a word about it, only kissed his cheek softly as she leaned in close, her voice barely a whisper as she murmured "I love you", her lips lingering for a moment.

And Spencer was sure that her kiss would magically make him feel better in no time - silly him. By the time they arrived at the BAU, the ache had deepened, expanding until it felt as though his entire skull was caught in a strong fist.

Now, in the middle of the afternoon, sitting at his desk, Spencer struggled to focus. His temples throbbed in time with his heartbeat, sending jolts of pain that spread down his neck and shoulders.

A sharp sensation had settled behind his left eye, making it impossible to fully open without a stabbing pain shooting through his head. He pressed his fingers to the sides of his head, attempting to massage away the discomfort, but it was futile.

A tingling sensation kept creeping along his arms, the nerves in his fingertips hypersensitive to the touch of his pen. Even the faint friction of his clothing against his skin felt unbearable, leaving him breathless. His limbs kept moving around in his chair, trying to find a position that didn’t make his muscles feel like they were ready to snap.

Across the bullpen, Morgan leaned casually against the edge of his own desk, glancing momentarily at Spencer while talking with Ashley, a teasing smirk growing on his face as he noticed the younger's pace while flipping pages - it wasn't slow, but surely slower than 'Spencer's normal'.

"Looks like someone’s slower than usual today." Morgan called, his tone lighthearted as he hoped to pull Spencer into their usual playful demeanor.

But Spencer didn’t respond - which wasn't news when the genius was concentrated, squinting his eyes at the too bright lights above him, sending harsh glares on his desk that seemed to burn straight into his brain.

He tried to look up in a tentative of looking at Derek, but as soon as his eyes moved, his vision sparked with white flashes that momentarily blinded him, not noticing how Morgan's smirk faltered as he exchanged a concerned glance with Y/N across the room, who had been shooting Spencer glances for quite some time now.

Frustration started to bubble inside Spencer as the pages of the case file in front of him seemed to blurry even more when he moved his eyes back to it, the letters swimming across the paper as if they were mocking his attempts to work.

The sounds around him only seemed to make things worse. Across the bullpen, Prentiss's deep voice rose in conversation with JJ, sharp and too loud for his own taste. The gentle tapping of Ashley's keyboard sounded like a woodpecker drilling into his ears. The steady rustling of paper, the faint squeak of wheels on rolling chairs, even the scratch of Y/N’s pen on paper, it all seemed to close around him, leaving him struggling to breathe. He clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding together in an effort to keep himself from snapping.

But the worst part was the impossibility of concentrating - Spencer’s mind was usually his greatest ally, a place where he could retreat and find order even in chaos.

He stared at the case file in front of him, the report on Andrew Jacobs, a killer who had brutally murdered several women, including his own wife. Spencer knew the details of the case intimately, had memorized every little thing, every piece of evidence. But now, as he tried to write his report, the words wouldn’t come.

His pen hovered over the page, trembling slightly in his hand as the muscles in his fingers twitched. He pressed the tip of the pen to the paper, determined to start, but his mind was blank. No, worse than blank, it was fractured.

He gritted his teeth and forced himself to write a sentence.

Andrew Jacobs exhibited narcissistic tendencies, as evidenced by-

The thought dissolved as another burst of pain shattered his focus. The rest of the sentence was lost, replaced by another white flash. His hand tightened around the pen, and he nearly snapped it in half as he exhaled a shaky breath.

He tried again.

Jacobs selected victims that resembled-

The throb in his temples flared, and he dropped the pen, his hand too weak to hold it.

He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, desperate to shut out the light, the noise, the overwhelming sensations. He hunched over his desk, his breathing shallow and labored, trying to ride it out without drawing attention to himself - well, more.

Maybe caffeine would help. It had worked before, maybe inconsistently. But it was better than nothing.

Pushing back his chair, Spencer stood, determined to exterminate his pain. But the pace in which he did it sent a wave of vertigo crashing over him, the room tilting precariously to one side.

His vision narrowed as he stumbled, his hand reaching out to steady himself against the edge of the desk, but his fingers missed the mark. His foot caught on the leg of his chair, and he tripped forward, nearly knocking over a stack of case files in the process.

Lucky him.

"Spence!" Y/N’s voice cut through the cloud of his disorientation, filled with concern.

Before he could even process what was happening, her hands were on him, one steadying him by his biceps, the other catching the stack of papers before they could scatter across the bullpen.

Spencer forced a quick, shaky smile, hoping it would be enough to stop her worry.

"Sorry." He said, his voice as steady as possible. The effort to sound okay only made the pounding in his head worse, and he winced slightly as he tucked a very short lock of hair behind his ear - still used to having it longer. "I'm okay. I just tripped."

Y/N’s brow furrowed as she studied him. Her hand lingered on his arm, her grip gentle but firm, as if she was afraid he might fall again.

"Spence, are you sure? You don’t look-"

"I’m fine!" Spencer cut her off, his voice a touch too loud, earning a questioning glance from Prentiss across the room. He cleared his throat, softening his tone. "I just need a refill." He added, holding up his empty coffee mug as if it were some sort of shield. "Do you need one? I can get you it if you want!"

He didn’t give her a chance to respond before stepping out of her grasp and making a beeline for the coffee station. He could feel her eyes on him as he walked away, but he didn’t turn back.

Reaching the coffee maker, Spencer set his mug down with trembling hands, the slight clink of ceramic against metal sounding impossibly loud to his hypersensitive ears. He focused on the simple motions of pouring the coffee, hoping the familiarity of the task would anchor him.

The smell of the freshly brewed coffee hit him, and his stomach churned in response. He swallowed hard against the wave of nausea but pressed on, filling the mug to the brim.

The first sip burned his tongue, but he didn’t care. He gulped it down, the heat spreading through his chest like liquid desperation. Maybe the caffeine would kick in quickly, stopping the edges of the pain enough for him to concentrate.

But as he drained the mug, the room began to spin again. A nauseating dizziness wrapped itself around him, pulling his vision into darkness for a moment too long. He gripped the edge of the counter, his knuckles white as he fought to stay up.

His stomach churned violently now, and his head felt like it was splitting apart. His legs wobbled beneath him, threatening to give way, and he knew he couldn’t keep standing. He needed to sit down. Now.

Spencer scanned the room for the nearest chair. His breath came in shallow, uneven gasps as he half-stumbled toward the breakroom table, collapsing into a chair before his legs could betray him entirely. He set the empty coffee mug down on the table with shaking hands - almost missing it - and rested his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands.

The sound of Spencer’s body collapsing against the chair reverberated through the bullpen like a thunderclap. Heads turned instinctively toward the breakroom, curiosity quickly giving way to concern when the sound was followed by a groan. A deep, guttural groan of pain that struck Y/N.

She knew that sound.

Her head snapped up, her pen clattering onto her desk, and in an instant, she was on her feet, moving toward it with determination.

"Y/N?" JJ's voice called after her, tinged with confusion, but she ignored her.

As she entered the room, the sight before her made her heart squeeze. Spencer was slumped in one of the chairs, his body hunched forward, his arms clutching his stomach. His hair was a mess, sticking to his damp forehead, and his shirt was rumpled, the fabric pulled and creased as if he’d been tugging at it in desperation to rid himself of the sensation of it against his clammy skin. Sweat dripped from his temples, his face pale and drawn, his eyes half-closed as though the effort of keeping them open was too much.

"Spence?" She whispered, her voice steady despite the panic rising in her chest.

She dropped to her knees beside him, her hands hovering uncertainly near his, afraid to make things worse but desperate to comfort him.

"Hey, what’s wrong? What are you feeling?" She asked, her tone filled with concern. Her eyes scanned his face, searching for any clue, but the only response she received was a low, pitiful whimper.

The sound broke her heart.

Before she could press him further, Spencer’s body stiffened, his face contorting as a sudden wave of nausea overtook him. His stomach grumbled violently, and he gagged, a sharp, involuntary sound that echoed through the room.

"Oh my-!" Y/N gasped, realizing what was happening just as he tried to stand, his weak limbs shaking under his own weight.

He only managed to rise an inch before his knees buckled, sending him crashing back into the chair. His hand flew to his mouth as another gag wracked his body, his face twisting with misery. The effort to move had only made things worse.

Y/N acted on instinct, her heart pounding as she spotted the small trash bin tucked beneath the desk behind him. She grabbed it quickly, her movements fast, and positioned it under him just in time.

Spencer bent forward, his body heaving as he retched violently into the bin. His stomach emptied itself in painful spasms, each cough leaving him weaker. One of Y/N's hands cradled his shoulder to keep him from falling to the ground, the other rubbing soothing circles on his back.

"It’s okay, sweetheart." She murmured softly. "I’m right here. Just let it all out. You’re going to be okay."

Her fingers traveled from his back to the back of his head, intertwining through his damp hair, tucking the short strands behind his ears as she continued to whisper reassurances. The sound of her voice was low and soft, grounding him.

Outside the breakroom, Morgan and Prentiss had gathered by the coffee station near the door, their expressions shifting from confusion to alarm as the muffled sounds of gagging reached their ears. Morgan had been the first to step forward, concern taking over his face, but Emily stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Give them a second." She said quietly.

Inside, Spencer’s nausea began to ease, though his body still trembled, probably because of exhaustion. Y/N kept knelt by his side, her hands never once leaving him, wiping the sweat off of his forehead.

When he finally stopped, Spencer sagged against the chair, his face pale as a ghost, and his breathing shallow and uneven. Y/N quickly took off her jacket, gently wiping his mouth and chin before brushing the hair from his face again, creating a mental note to throw her clothing inside her washing machine as soon as they got home.

"Y/N, you don’t have to do this-" Spencer started, his voice weak but laced with sincerity as he tried to lift his head and meet her gaze, trying to push her jacket away with his hand.

Y/N didn’t let him finish, shaking her head.

"You make it seem like taking care of you is hard work." She cut him off with a soft smile, her free hand slipping over his lifted one, her thumb rubbing gentle circles into his knuckles, lowering them.

Spencer's eyes darted away, his cheeks coloring faintly in embarrassment. He hated that she was seeing him like that - so sick and so not him.

"But taking care of you." She continued, her other hand coming to rest on his thigh, warm and grounding. "Is the easiest thing in the world."

Spencer hummed softly in response, the sound noncommittal but tinged with gratitude.

"Now." She said, her eyes searching his as she lowered her head to his high, searching for his eyes. "What’s going on?"

Spencer shook his head weakly, his lips pressing into a thin line. He was too drained and too overwhelmed to explain the relentless storm of pain that had consumed him in such a small period of time.

Y/N exhaled softly, her worry deepening as she took in his refusal to answer. She glanced over her shoulder, debating whether to call for Hotch or JJ.

"Okay." She said gently, leaning closer so he could hear her. "You don’t have to talk right now. Just breathe. I’m here."

The smell of vomit began to permeate the room, clinging to the air in a way that would have turned most stomachs. But Y/N didn’t flinch. She’d seen and smelled worse in her years with the BAU. Compared to that, a little puke was nothing.

"My head..." Spencer’s voice cracked as he whimpered several minutes later of silence, his words barely audible as his hands flew to his face, fingers pressing harshly against his eyes.

Y/N’s heart clenched, and she instinctively reached for his wrists, her hands gently tugging his away from his head. His eyes fluttered open, heavy-lidded and glassy, pain etched into every line of his expression.

"Oh, honey." She cooed softly, brushing the strands of hair from his forehead. "It’s your migraine again, isn’t it?"

A faint, almost imperceptible nod was all he managed.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" She asked, her voice gentle. "You should’ve said something before we even left your apartment this morning."

He shook his head weakly, as if the mere thought of explaining himself was too much effort.

Y/N sighed, her fingers brushing over his temple in a soothing motion.

"Alright." She said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "We’re going home, okay?" She paused for a beat, watching him closely. "Can you stand?"

Spencer didn’t respond right away. He stayed hunched over, breathing unevenly, his shoulders trembling slightly as if he was waiting for his body to answer for himself. Finally, after a long moment, he whispered.

"I don't think I can. I’m dizzy... really dizzy."

Y/N’s expression softened even further.

"That’s okay." She assured gently, her hand rubbing slow, comforting circles across his back. "There’s no rush, Spence. We’ll wait until you feel ready, alright?"

He didn’t answer, but the slight relaxation of his posture told her he’d heard. She stayed by his side, her fingers trailing up to his shoulders, massaging the tension she could feel knotted beneath his crumpled shirt.

"I’m going to grab some water for you, okay?" After a moment, she whispered. "Just something to rinse your mouth and maybe settle your stomach." She began to shift, preparing to stand, but the soft wince that escaped Spencer stopped her in her tracks.

He reached out, his hand trembling as it found her arm, his grip gentle but insistent. His big puppy eyes met hers with a silent plea.

"Can you stay?" He asked lowly, his fingers loosening slightly but not letting go. "I don't need water."

He actually needed it, but it could wait. He preferred her by his side.

"Yeah, okay. I’m not going anywhere." She assured him, nodding. "I’m right here."

She settled back into her position beside him, her arm draped protectively over his shoulder. They stayed like that for several minutes, Y/N murmuring soft reassurances while Spencer focused on taking slow, measured breaths.

Eventually, he shifted slightly, his posture straightening just enough to signal he was ready.

"I think... I can stand now." He said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N nodded, throwing her jacket over her shoulder before her hands moved to support him as she stood, then gently helped him to his feet. He swayed slightly, heavily leaning against her, his weight a little awkward against her frame, but she didn’t mind.

"Easy." She murmured, her voice calm. "One step at a time. I’ve got you."

With painstaking care, she guided him out of the breakroom, her focus entirely on him. Their teammates noticed them, their concerned gazes following, but Y/N didn’t pause to explain.

She led Spencer to the bathroom, not caring to turn on the lights, knowing that it would just make his situation worse. She eased him down onto the small bench near the sinks, watching as he sank into the seat with a groan, his head drooping forward again as though even holding it upright was too much.

"Hang tight." Y/N said softly, brushing her hand over his shoulder before turning toward the sink.

She turned on the faucet, letting the water run cold, and dampened a handful of paper towels. Returning to Spencer, she knelt in front of him and gently pressed the cool towels to his face and neck. He sighed faintly at the momentary relief, his body relaxing slightly under her care.

"There we go." She whispered, dabbing away the sweat on his brow and cheeks. "Just a little longer, alright?"

She smoothed down the rumpled fabric of his shirt, adjusting it to make him more comfortable, and ran her fingers through his hair, untangling the damp strands.

"You’re doing so well, honey." She murmured, her voice gentle. "We’ll get you feeling better soon, I promise.

Spencer blinked at her, his pain-clouded eyes filled with love. He didn’t have the will to speak, but the way he leaned into her touch said everything he couldn’t.

Y/N smiled softly, her thumb brushing lightly over his eyebrows before standing again.

"Come on." She said, offering her hands. "Let’s get you out of here."

Spencer took a deep breath, summoning what little strength he had left, and let her guide him to his feet. Y/N steadied Spencer as they exited the bathroom, her hand firmly wrapped around his right arm - it would be barely 20 steps to the elevators. She could handle that. She tilted her head slightly, her voice soft but commanding.

"Spence, close your eyes for me, okay? The lights out there are only going to make it worse. I’ll guide you, I promise."

Spencer hesitated for a moment, then nodded weakly and let his eyes flutter shut. Y/N adjusted her hold on him, now wrapping his waist, taking most of his weight as they slowly started their journey through the small path to the exit doors.

The hum of conversation in the office dimmed as curious eyes turned toward them. Y/N’s jaw tightened, her sharp gaze sweeping the room, sending a hard glare to anyone who dared look too long or seemed close to say something, as if to warn don’t even think about it.

Her eyes found Morgan when they crossed the glass doors, who was watching them, his expression full of concern. He tilted his head slightly, silently asking if she needed help. She gave him a curt nod, Spencer's body against hers starting to make her legs feel tired.

Morgan moved swiftly, stepping ahead to press the elevator button, ensuring the doors would be ready for them. Then, without hesitation, he came to Spencer’s other side.

"Let me take him." Morgan said gently, sliding his arm around Spencer’s shoulders to ease the weight off Y/N.

Spencer stiffened for a moment at the unfamiliar touch, but as Morgan steadied him, a flicker of recognition crossed his face. He relaxed slightly, leaning into Morgan’s strength, though his grip on Y/N’s hand remained loose, as if afraid to let her go entirely.

Morgan gave him a reassuring smile.

"Hey, pretty boy." He said lightly, his tone warm and familiar. "How are you feeling down there?"

Spencer’s lips twitched faintly, a weak attempt at humor breaking through the haze of pain.

"Not so pretty right now." He murmured, his voice hoarse and strained.

Morgan chuckled softly, his hand giving Spencer’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Nah, you’re still prettier than most of us, even like this."

Y/N allowed herself a small smile at Morgan’s effort to keep the mood light. She adjusted her pace to match theirs as they finally reached the elevator. Morgan shifted slightly, ensuring Spencer stayed upright while Y/N pressed the button for the parking level - he really looked like he was about to pass out, and none of them wanted that.

The elevator ride was quiet save for Spencer’s shallow breaths and the occasional comforting words from Morgan. Y/N kept her hand on Spencer’s one, her fingers tracing calming circles above his skin.

Morgan’s grip was steady as he guided Spencer to the car after they reached the garage, Y/N walking ahead to open the passenger door.

"Alright, pretty boy, here we go." Morgan said softly, helping Spencer lower himself into the seat. Spencer groaned faintly as he settled in, head resting against the headrest.

Morgan straightened, closing the door carefully before turning to Y/N, who stood nearby with her keys clutched tightly in her hand.

"You good, Y/L/N? You sure you got this? I can follow you, help get him settled if you want."

Y/N shook her head.

"I’ve got it. Thank you, though. He’ll be okay. He just needs some rest and quiet." She offered Morgan a small but grateful smile. "Can you let Hotch know that we had to go earlier? I'm gonna text him later to explain it all better, but I know he will be worried."

Morgan studied her for a moment before nodding.

"Yeah, you got it. Call me if you need anything, okay?"

"I will." Y/N replied.

Morgan gave her upper arm a gentle squeeze before stepping back, waiting until she climbed into the driver’s seat before heading back inside.

Once the door was closed, Y/N glanced over at Spencer. His breathing had already evened out, his face slack with sleep. A twinge of sadness pulled at her chest, wishing she could take all his pain away. She reached out gently, brushing a lock of his hair from his forehead.

"You’ll feel better soon, baby." She whispered softly.

With the car in motion, Y/N quickly decided that taking him to her apartment would be the best option. Spencer’s place, though obviously comfortable, required climbing a flight of stairs, and there was no way she was going to risk him - or herself - having to deal with that. Her building had an elevator, and she knew he’d be just as safe there.

The drive was quiet, save for the occasional hum of the engine. Spencer didn’t stir, his head tilted slightly against the cool window as the motion of the car lulled him deeper into sleep. Y/N drove carefully, taking turns gently and avoiding any sharp stops, all the while stealing occasional glances at him to ensure he was okay.

When she finally pulled into her building’s parking garage, she cut the engine and let out a breath. Turning to Spencer, she hesitated for a moment before reaching over and resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Honey." She said softly, giving him a gentle shake. "Hey, we’re here. I need you to wake up for me, okay?"

Spencer let out a quiet groan, his eyelids fluttering as he slowly began to rouse. He squinted, grimacing as if the mere act of opening his eyes was too much.

"I know, I know." Y/N cooed softly, her voice full of understanding. "I'm sorry, baby. Just a little further, and you can sleep again. Come on, I’ve got you."

With sluggish movements, Spencer let Y/N unbuckle his seatbelt and help him out of the car, cringing slightly at how useless he felt and looked right now. His legs were unsteady, and she quickly wrapped an arm around his waist, guiding him toward the building’s entrance.

By the time they reached her apartment door, the sound of clicking nails on the floor echoed as Snow, her fluffy little Shih Tzu, padded over excitedly to greet them.

"Hey, Snow." Y/N whispered softly, nudging the dog back with her leg as Spencer swayed slightly beside her. "Not now, sweetie. Go lie down."

Snow, almost sensing the mood, tilted his head, nudging lovingly at Spencer's leg before trotting off to his bed in the corner of the living room.

"Alright, Spence. Let’s get you to bed, too." She guided him carefully into her bedroom.

Her free hand swiftly clicks her bedside lamp on, the soft glow of it casting warm light across the room.

Helping him sit on the edge of the bed, Y/N crouched down, quickly unlacing his Converse and slipping them off one at a time. Next, she loosened his tie and removed it, setting it gently on her dresser.

"Let’s get this off too, okay?" She murmured as she unbuttoned his crumpled white shirt.

Spencer didn’t resist, his limbs too uncoordinated to help her, only moving them to press his palms hard against his eyeballs again, but his action was quickly - and gently - stopped by Y/N.

Once the shirt was off, leaving him in just his pants and mismatched socks, she eased him back against the pillows, ignoring her mind telling her that he would be mad for 'going to bed in outside clothes, do you know how many germs there is in this?'

Spencer sighed softly as he sank into the mattress, the lines of tension in his face easing just a little. Y/N adjusted the blankets, pulling them up to his waist to keep him warm before brushing her fingers softly through his hair, tucking the messy strands away from his face.

"There we go." She whispered to herself, her voice as soft as the dim light of the room.

Satisfied that he was settled, she straightened up and turned toward the door, ready to let him get the rest he desperately needed. But just as she took her first step, she felt a gentle tug on her wrist. The touch was weak, barely there, but enough to stop her.

Turning back, she saw Spencer’s hand wrapped loosely around her wrist, his long fingers barely curled. His eyes were still shut, but his brows were drawn together, his lips parting as he whispered, voice hoarse and fragile.

"Can you... stay here? Just for a little more."

Y/N immediately sat in the mattress, by his hips side, her heart skipping a beat with his tone of voice.

"Of course, honey." She murmured, brushing the top of his fingers softly with her thumb. "I’m not going anywhere. I promise."

Spencer let out a shaky breath. His grip on her wrist didn’t tighten. If anything, it was soft and almost reverent, like he was afraid to hold on too hard.

"Sorry." He murmured, his voice cracking, so quiet she almost missed it. "I’m... sorry for all of this. For making you deal with this."

The apology was so honest but so unnecessary that it sent a pang straight through Y/N’s chest. She leaned closer, resting her free hand gently on his cheek, her thumb tracing along his jaw.

"Spencer." She whispered, her tone firm but warm. "Don’t be stupid." She smiled faintly, noticing how his right eyebrow moved slightly up, the way it always did when he was feeling confused. "You’ve done this for me so many times. How many nights have you sat with me when I wasn’t feeling my best? How many times have you made me tea, or read to me until I fell asleep, or stayed up just to make sure I was okay? You never complained. Not once."

Spencer’s lips pressed into the faintest semblance of a smile, barely there but still enough to make Y/N’s heart squeeze. His hand slipped from her wrist to her own hand, his fingers curling around hers, warm despite the cool sweat still lingering on his skin.

"Thank you." He whispered, his voice raw, like it was taking everything in him to get the words out. And maybe it was. Being transparent with his feelings was the hardest thing for Spencer - something he was trying to change since putting his eyes on Y/N for the very first time.

Y/N leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, lingering there for a moment as if to let him feel every bit of affection she carried for him.

"You don’t have to thank me." She murmured, her lips brushing against his skin. "This is what love is, Spence. I’m here because I want to be here. Because I care about you."

Spencer’s grip on her hand stayed soft as his features relaxed again, the tension melting away. But just as she began to pull back, her tone shifted, still gentle but also firm.

"In the morning, we’re going to the doctor, okay?" She said softly, her tone sounding rhetorical, as if not waiting to hear his opinion.

Spencer’s brows knitted together, his lips parting in protest, but he didn’t immediately respond.

"Spence." She continued. "I know you’ve dealt with migraines since you were younger, but this? This wasn’t normal. It came out of nowhere, and it hit you so hard. You have to have it checked out."

Finally, he spoke, his voice cracking.

"But... what if... what if it’s not just migraines?" His voice wavered, and he squeezed her hand tighter. "What if it’s... what if it’s something worse? What if it’s like my mom?" His voice broke on the last word, and he swallowed hard, his breathing shaky. "I can’t... I can’t risk that. I can’t risk knowing that now. I can’t risk losing you because of it."

Before Y/N, Spencer had been trying to do every test and clinical exam that would show him how close to schizophrenia or Alzheimer's he could be - his college years had been full of them - but now he did his best to stay away from it. He just couldn't risk it.

Y/N’s face fell at his words, and the fear evident in his expression. She cupped his face gently, forcing him to look at her, even if his eyes fluttered open for only a moment.

"Spence." She said, her voice thick with emotion but steady. "You’re not going to lose me. Ever. Do you hear me? Whatever happens, I’ll be right here. I’ll be with you every step of the way. You’re not alone in this."

He closed his eyes again, his features crumpling as he absorbed her words. He wanted to believe - he needed to - but the example he had from his father had been everything but perfect.

"Don't keep worrying your head with this. We’ll talk more in the morning, okay? Right now, I need you to rest. Just rest."

"I love you." He murmured, his voice softening. "So much."

Y/N let out a shaky breath.

"I love you more." She whispered back, smiling softly, brushing her fingers through his hair one last time before pulling back. "Get some sleep." She said gently.

This time, he didn’t protest as she stood and stepped toward the door. Quietly, she slipped out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her. She let out a breath, her shoulders sagging slightly as the tension of the day began to melt away. Snow trotted up to her, tail wagging gently as if offering quiet support.

"Alright, boy." Y/N murmured, scratching Snow behind the ears. "Let’s get this place in order and make something to eat for later, huh?"

[quintessenceofdust88]

fuck it friday

I was tagged by my lovelies @perfectlysunny02 and @weewookinard! So I thought I'd bring you guys a little more of my tsunami fic (which I'm temporarily naming Life is Changin' Tides)I hope you guys like it! I'm posting the snippet from Wednesday + its continuation ♥

There is water everywhere, and Tommy has never seen anything like it. The Saint Monica pier is completely submerged and, from the chopper, he can barely see the tip of the Ferris wheel. There are red boats from the LAFD scattered around, and the air ops have been ordered to hover around and await for further instructions.

“Wow” His co-pilot, a probie named Monroe, exclaims. He's looking down at the wreckage, and Tommy imagines it's the first time he comes across something like this. “I was at the pier with my girlfriend just last week, can you believe that?”

“I know what you mean”, Tommy says distractedly, bringing the chopper closer to the chore with an eye out for light beacons or other signs of someone looking for help. “I brought my daughter here three days ago”

“Aw, man, you have a daughter? I didn't know that!” Monroe says, and Tommy can't help but smile a little as the face of his five-year-old comes to mind.

“Yeah, Genevieve. She's five” He says, fidgeting with the controls to gain some attitude on the bird to make sure they’re not missing anything “We were supposed to come back to the pier next Saturday, she saw this unicorn plushie and I promised to try to win it for her next time”

“Guess you’ll just have to buy it somewhere else” He says, and Tommy chuckles, already imagining how Vivie would react to that. 

“Nah, Vivie would say it’s not the same because we didn’t win it. She’s too smart for her own good; well, actually for my own good”

Tommy realizes this is the most he’s talked to the probie ever since they started working together a few weeks ago. Trust him to turn into a chatterbox when the best thing in his life is involved. 

“Yeah, I get you, I have a seven-year old son who’s already smarter than me” He says, and a fond smile takes over his face; Tommy is pretty sure he looks besotted just like that whenever he talks about his daughter. “It’s good to know they’re safe when we’re out there like this, isn’t it?”

“Yeah” Tommy easily agrees, his eyes scanning the water for people moving; unfortunately, there isn’t much they can do for those who stopped moving, at least not until the water goes down. 

Vivie is with her uncle Sal today, and Tommy’s pretty sure she’s having the time of her life. Sal lives far away from the shore, so he knows he has nothing to worry about, which lets him focus on the task at hand. 

If he had to worry about Genevieve in the middle of all this, he’s pretty sure he would have crashed his helicopter already.

np tagging @typicalopposite @bidisasterevankinard @laundryandtaxesworld @littlepaws9 @actuallyitsellie @mmso-notlikethat and whoever else wants to join! ♥

[graveyrdvamp18]

i'm bored, , so here's what i think of each lost boy

i'm gonna do this one vamp at a time so i don't get overwhelmed, starting off with this mullet king

david

• he's a self - proclaimed leader

since he's the first turned and seemingly the most mature one, as each boy joined the gang, he took it upon himself to look after everyone. cause he cared for them ? that could be a factor, but also cause of his controlling nature

• he loves to read

david seems like he secretly loves to read, and im talking about newspapers, too. he even has reading glasses. and i would know this cause i am the glasses. anyway, as far as genres, maybe horror, mystery, and throw in a little romance from time to time

• he is the most possessive of his belongings

this man does NOT share. and he will be mad if he catches anybody besides him with his stuff

• he is the smartest

okay so i'm not calling the others stupid, vampires in general are intelligent beings. i'm just saying david is extremely smart, but this is also what makes him very, very good at manipulation. a master manipulator, if you will. and it's not just with the mind games he can play, with his words, his expressions. he knows exactly what to do or say to get you

• anger issues

something tells me if he's not the one who comes up and speaks to you first, don't even try. he would probably just ignore you or tell you to go away. this is probably something he picked up from his father (not max), and i don't necessarily think it's shown in the movie, just from his energy, makes me think that

• not the biggest fan of sweets

i keep switching from serious to silly things, but that's just how i roll, anywayy. he doesn't hate sweets or candy, just could live without them. he hates the stomach ache you can get after, and probably how sugary they are. the only sweet i think he can handle is cookies, more specifically snickerdoodles

• david has the highest level of maturity

i've actually read about this on here, i can't remember the person's user, but i just remember how they talked of how he dresses and how he talks, and i have to say i agree. he does indeed dress and talk completely different from his three vampire bros. this also makes me think that david is definitely an old soul and he was probably forced to grow up instead of having the freedom of being a wild and care-free child

• black and red are his favorite colors

more specifically darker shades of red, he hates bright colors. probably would complain it's hurting his poor eyes and he's going blind

• cares about his health.. a lot

there's absolutely nothing wrong with caring about your health. although the man's main diet is bl0od, clearly they can still eat human food. he eats junk food still and is definitely always down for some pasta or a good burger, but he tries to maintain a healthy way of eating. maybe he tried encouraging the other boys to do so, but gave up cause he was getting no where

• keeps things clean

if he sees a mess, he cleans it. or gets one of the others to clean it cause they caused it. the cave is definitely organized, and that was probably thanks to David. cause you can see during any cave scene how it's an organized mess

• his favorite food is pasta

already mentioned this briefly, but please he would fck up olive garden. i just know they would hate to see him coming

• despises loud noises

this includes the TV being too loud, loud crunching, any kind of beeping and so on. it pisses him off

• stupid nicknames

can't stand them. the other boys definitely have silly nicknames for him like 'pookie' and 'davey' and so on, and he wants to curl up every time

• early birdy

as soon as the sun sets, david is the first to wake up. mainly cause he loves night time. even before he was turned, he was always a night owl. he probably snuck out into a field near his childhood house a few times

• writing

there's really no doubt in my mind that david loves to write. he has many journals stored away cause he considers them personal. he has such a high guard up that whenever somethings wrong, he turns to paper and pen. he also has the most beautiful handwriting out of all of them

☆ what he could've been

i feel like if david was never turned, he would've wanted to be in a major career. he would've been an excellent psychologist. he would've wanted to start his own family, and have kids, probably out in the west.

he misses this at times, the chances and hopes that he lost, but despite that, i actually think he loves being a vampire. he loves the chase, the thrill of it all. he loves doing whatever he wants, whenever he pleases

one last thing, this man loves music. all 4 of them do, really. i feel like he'd listen to anything that isn't rap or pop. he also listens to country but doesn't let the other boys know that, they'd probably never let him live it down

let me know what you think ! whether you agree or disagree, i'm open-minded

i love david, honestly. i know he wouldn't love me back, cause I mean, have we watched the same movie ? but he's still my pookie bear

[skyheld]

"You can't blame yourself." from asharen to ameridan

ASKBOX MEME 059 / ARCANE S02E07-09 | selectively accepting | @mercysought

It's the second time he leaves a place where he was meant to die.

Stands up on shaking legs, brushes the dust of time off his clothes and picks through the remains of his old life for things he needs to keep. There isn't much left, now. He gave most things away when he joined clan Lavellan, to the few friends he has made in the last ten years, or to the clan itself. He had no need or interest then in riches or treasure. Only a few keepsakes.

Some people watch as he comes out of the aravel. The last few weeks as his strength waned he left is more and more rarely, and while many come to visit him, there are some faces he hasn't seen in all that time --- faces of those he was never close to, or who felt too uncomfortable to sit in a room with a dying person, seeing the way life left him a little bit more each week. When he steps out now with a small pack slung over his shoulder and the staff in his hand, he stands straighter than they've ever seen him. There's strength in his legs, carrying him down the landing, and in the hand that holds his staff. His eyes are unclouded, his lungs draw deep the air of the forest around them. But he doesn't look at those faces, even the ones he loved most dearly. He's afraid they'll turn away.

And anyway, how can he ask for them to look at him? How can he deserve a heartfelt farewell from these people when he failed them so utterly? They took him in so he would be safe, so he would know peace. He risked their lives, allowing a demon to possess him. He brought them war.

Thanks to that they live, but he isn't sure that matters.

"I do not blame myself", he tells Asharen as they meet below the aravel's deck. She sees through him, of course, sees the guilt clawing at him from the inside, but it isn't blame. "I did what I did to save them. Now I live with the consequences. I just wish... I wish there'd been another choice."

Hakkon looking out through his grey eyes, seeing the things he sees and adding his thoughts and emotions to Ameridan's mind, blurring them both. Hakkon coming to him that night when the clan was attacked, Hakkon's strength in his dying body, Hakkon tearing their enemies to shreds, laughing with Ameridan's voice but not his laugh, not his joy in the killing.

He wishes the others didn't have to see it. That they didn't have to look at him now and know that the one they called hahren and bestowed the name of their clan is an abomination. That his back is straight and his hands strong and that he stands in the sunlight again because something else is standing with him.

Ameridan Talvas Lavellan, he was for a while. But he cannot use that name anymore.

"We should be off", he says. A little further away, others are waiting for them to catch up. New faces, but they seem like good people. The one they call Rook has put together a capable group. Harding. He'll need to tell her too when they reach their sanctuary.

He's not sure if it's grief or shame that wells up and fill his eyes with tears, but he turns quickly, lowering his head to brush them away. He wanted to stay here. He didn't want to die, but he was ready to let it happen as he knew it would; he got the peace he always yearned for, and if it had to end, at least it would end in the best way possible. But now all that is different, and that peace is gone.

You are making this so much harder than it is. Hakkon has been quiet in his mind, and now that he speaks it sounds like mockery. And yet he is right in a way. Staying here, thinking about what he's walking away from makes the walking harder. He needs to just leave. Without another word he brushes past Asharen and joins the others, giving a single nod of his head when Rook asks if he's ready for the walk to the nearest eluvian, if those are all his things, is he is alright---

But before they've reached the edge of the camp, where signs of recent battle are still visible, blood drying brown in the grass where Hakkon's battleaxe tore throats and chests open, someone cries out behind them. A girl has escaped her parents' vigilant eyes and come running, calling his name.

Elirin. She's lost two front teeth since last he saw her. When he was strong enough to sit by the fire and tell stories, she'd ask for ones with Da'harel in them, then curl up with her head on his leg and pretend to be a very small wolf while he spoke. Now she wraps her arms around his legs and sobs into them until he manages to untangle himself from her grip so he can crouch down and hug her properly. Her parents wouldn't want him to. They'd worry about the demon. But he can't push her away, and he knows there is no danger.

She's holding a straw hat, like the ones the members of the clan make for themselves and to sell. At first he thinks she must have just been working on it when she saw him leave --- it's clearly her handiwork, childish and clumsy and therefor lovely --- but she presses it into his hands.

"Oh", he says, as his hands close round the brim. "Is it for me?"

She nods, her face set with determination.

There clearly is no fighting that. He would hurt her if he tried to decline. Blinking away more tears he takes the hat and puts it on --- it's a little large, probably not made for him to begin with, but it stays in place if he's careful. There are places where the straw sticks out and places where the woven pattern breaks. He loves it. One of the adult's perfectly crafted hats wouldn't have filled him with as much love as this one. "Thank you", he says, voice brittle. "That should keep me safe from the sun in Antiva."

Satisfied, Elirin turns to run back to her parents. Ameridan straightens up. The straw hat casts a shadow over his face until he turns back to the others, facing the sun.

Ameridan Talvas Lavellan. Maybe he keeps the name, at least for now.

"I'm ready", he says, and this time he feels it. "Let us go."

[ladystoneboobs]

um, it's more that luke and leia being twins was a rather last minute plot change in rotj, saying he "wrote the original trilogy" implies they were planned out as a unit in some way. the luke/leia kisses weren't meant to be accidentally incestuous. lucas was not originally planning to have them be related at all, and even in esb when darth vader became luke's father leia was not meant to be a skywalker too. at the time of making rotj the original thought behind leia's words about their mother was that the as-yet-unnamed-mother survived their birth and chose to seperate the twins herself for some reason, sending luke away while staying with leia in disguise on alderaan until she died a few years later. (also at this time owen was actually obi-wan's brother, not anakin's stepbrother.) but it was never the case that luke and leia were adopted at the same time when both were older than babies. that's why luke says he never knew his mother and has to ask leia what she knows of her.

luke was always meant to have spent his whole childhood on tattooine and that doesn't explain why his name wasn't changed to lars, which surely would have helped his own safety as the skywalker name is his most obvious link to anakin. i know sw portrays planets as not nearly big enough but it's a bit much to assume just being a blond human boy would get you linked to another blond male human in a different part of tattooine who left the planet almost 20 years before you were born. luke seems to have had a rather small social circle on tatooine and there's no hint that anyone he knew there besides owen, beru, and obi-wan had ever met anakin. it's also going directly against the movies to think owen ever intended luke to leave them for good as a skywalker. he certainly didn't want him to go anywhere with obi-wan as his jedi apprentice (anh obi-wan says that anakin wanted luke to have his old lightsaber but that owen wouldn't allow it bc he was afraid luke would go off with obi-wan on some fool crusade, which given later reveals/retconning about anakin and how that lightsaber changed hands, is just a bald-faced lie slandering owen as a needless stick-in-the-mud.) and if they were worried about him being caught out as anakin's son and having to go into hiding, again i say they could have just not openly raised him with the skywalker name to begin with. owen was doing all he could to keep luke on that farm for as long as he could, and their argument about leaving was just about luke following biggs to the academy, not even about joining the rebellion (tho that was surely in luke's mind as he knew it was biggs's real plan). luke not being a farmer was about him not wanting to be a farmer, about his spirit of adventure wanting more, not him always being meant to leave with obi-wan or needing to go into hiding at any time while using his father's name openly on his father's home planet. at the time that the larses took him to raise there's no reason they had to know he could never be made a farmer and would have to leave them for good someday, that happened due to his own choice and his own wishes. you mention how luke was affected by owen's and beru's deaths without acknowledging the plot significance of their deaths: that was luke's cue to leave with obi-wan bc he wasn't leaving with owen still alive and certainly wasn't raised with the expectation of being cut loose into obi-wan's waiting tutelage.

if we agree that both uncles/aunts and moms/dads can love kids, then why this insistence that that there's something wrong in not acknowledging owen and beru as anything other than luke's uncle and aunt? the version you've concocted where they always meant to be a temporary set-up for luke sounds more like foster care than a permanent adoption. there are different kinds of families and it's not wrong to say they don't always include someone called mom and dad or thought of as mom and dad. luke only ever considered one man his father, bc despite owen wanting luke to follow him into farming, he still raised luke as a skywalker, not a lars, as anakin's son and shmi's grandson. a guy who intentionally raised luke to call him uncle owen rather than dad would not be arguing that he was luke's real father or be insulted by being only known as uncle owen, so fandom really doesn't need to argue that on his behalf. he can consider luke his own without considering himself luke's dad, that just means luke's his nephew, not his son. this insistence that the larses were luke's mom and dad always feels like luke is seen as disrespectful for never calling them such, bc otherwise it means just ignored how luke thinks of them as canon luke clearly does not consider them his mom and dad. despite his loving relationship with beru, he still considered himself motherless, never having known a mother bc he could not remember padme. (i think it significant that "real mother" were his words, not leia's. she would probably consider bail and breha organa her real mom and dad and padme her birth mother, which means she could still have an interest in padme without feeling like that was her only mother whether she remembered her or not.) but who is the source of this distinction of uncle/aunt who raised him vs. mom/dad parental equivalents, luke himself or owen/beru? why can we not acknowledge and accept the difference between a guy who always wanted to adopt an unrelated baby girl and therefore offered to do so of his own volition wrt his recently deceased friend's baby, and a guy who was assigned guardianship by frickin' yoda and then had a baby boy delivered on short notice who was apparently the son of a stepbrother he met all of once a few years ago? esp given that even in the iteration where owen and obi-wan knew each other before and were even the ones actually related, they still never had a good relationship with owen warning luke to stay away from that "crazy wizard" and obi-wan lying his ass off about owen and anakin.

why is it people are all agreed that luke and leia would* have very different feelings about darth vader as a father but cannot grasp that their experiences with the people who raised them were also very different?

leia was actually adopted by a father who chose her, who gave her his name, and raised her as fully one of them, to think of himself and his wife as her parents. none of that was at all true for luke. he was dropped on owen and beru after they met his parents all of once a few years before. (which does not a brotherly relationship make! stepbrothers or not! padme was the one with an actual surviving family on naboo who actually knew and loved her. even bail knew her better than owen knew anakin.) owen lied about how anakin lived and died but still raised luke with an idea of his real father, using the skywalker name and saying aunt and uncle instead of mom and dad. 

do y’all not realize that an intra-family adoption doesn’t mean surnames can’t be changed or kids can’t say mom/dad instead of grandma/grandpa or aunt/uncle or whatever? why wouldn’t a kid instinctively call the people raising them from infancy mama and dada? this was all a choice, that’s why. (and considering the danger of the skywalker name, that part was a meaningful and deliberate choice.) and i’m not even blaming owen for it. adoptions cannot be forced on people who did not choose them. not everyone is capable of loving someone else’s child exactly the same as if they were related by blood and that’s not some irredeemable flaw. not everyone even wants to be parents, naturally or not! we don’t know if owen and beru ever wanted to be parents before obi-wan showed up on their doorstep. and even with the lying everyone did about anakin, it speaks well that luke was still raised with some knowledge of his birth parents and grew up loving and respecting the (false) idea of anakin. 

i’m sure owen and beru cared for luke as he did for them but they did not think of each other as simply father/mother and son, nuclear family-style. and to assert otherwise is to deliberately ignore the writing in the movies with every line of “uncle owen” “aunt beru” “his father/your father/my father” and “i have no memory of my mother. i never knew her.” it’s not an insult to owen/beru not to equate them with bail/breha who chose adoption and whom we know had always talked of adopting a baby girl. if anything, i’d say it’s an insult to ignore the complexity and true context there to simplify everyone into the same categories. and maybe, just maybe, we should consider that luke’s connection to anakin/vader and longing for knowledge of his “real” mother has to do with how he was raised differently than leia, and not because the twins are instrincially so different with luke just being a bigger softie.

*i say would because it’s not like rotj gives any time for leia’s reaction to learing she was fathered by anakin/vader (and no, eu matierials which can be de-canonized at any time do not make up any lack in the script). but it’s not as if leia expresses any disapproval toward luke’s feelings or hopes either, even as she worries about his plan. maybe bc she understands how and why she and luke are coming from different places better than most in the fandom do.

[vaguely-concerned]

I was just ambushed within the turbulent halls of my own mind by some headcanons about rye ingellvar's childhood that did 15000000 points of psychic damage to me and my heart personally and also made me almost sure of how I want to play it all at the end (very very differently from how I imagined going in!). some 'oh holy fuck this changes everything' rocking my own world bullshit going on in my neurons right now I'm reeling

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

JoJo Siwa doesn’t deserve all the hate (and homophobia) she’s getting for her style and music; but she does deserve scrutiny for defending Colleen Ballinger and being both active and complicit in abuse that happened on her TV show. Like the girl has been under the public eye in unhealthy environments all her life; cut her some slack — not too much; she’s still a responsible adult — but if you’re going to dogpile her, then at least dogpile her for the right reasons. Jesus Fucking Christ.