#hurt! and then fixed!bea

[bechloesupercorp]

It means nothing to her. Living. Ava would be so ashamed. She tried. God, she tried. But the life that they’d lived together left a gaping hole in her heart. And she needed to feel something. She needed her sisters again, falling into easy routine. 

Training. Mission. Recovery. 

Training. Mission. Recovery. 

Mission. That’s where they were now.

Dragged out of bed in the early dawn, summoned to a series of dimensional pulses. The rough cobblestones rocked against their feet as they shuffled along, hidden in the shadows of the old buildings.

“This way,” Camila whispered, gesturing up ahead as she looked up from her tablet. 

The pulses were getting stronger, Bea’s heart beating in tandem. She didn’t know why she could feel them. The other sisters gave no indication that they could, so Beatrice shoved it down, attributing it to the years of experience. 

“Almost there,” Cam squealed, rushing a bit ahead of the pack. 

It was a normal town square, open air, plenty of space, surely bustling by midday. But the tips of Bea’s fingers tingled, adrenaline redirecting it elsewhere.

“Camila slow–”

The pulsing exploded, a steady BAM BAM BAM against her sternum as the air erupted, sparks of orange and red bursting through the air, tarask swiping through the silence. 

Her legs propelled her on instinct, eyes fixed on dear Sister Camila, head ducked and still buried in her tablet. 

The blue glow of the screen made Bea’s heart jolt, shining against Cam’s face like the shards they’d pulled from Shannon not just last year. 

No.

She was not going to lose another sister.

She flew across the square, snapping her wrists the second she made contact with her battle habit to drive Camila as far away as possible.

A sharp rod slid through her armour as another ring of blue appeared, angry tarask growling, hot air blistering against her face. 

Is this how Lilith felt?

Cold creeps up her fingertips, neck stiff. The air forces itself from her lungs, and she can’t get it back, mouth gaping in shock. 

Ava climbs through the portal, a divinium knife flying through the air. It meets its target, right through the monster’s heart, and Bea can’t help but smile.

She knows the second Ava sees her, eyes shining with elation, wide grin splitting her face. 

The tarask roars, and Bea feels it. It rocks her, digging deeper through her  middle. The sluggish spurts of red falling from her abdomen, sapping the warmth from her bones. The tarask vibrates behind her, breaching this realm for the next, and Bea wants to beg, “No, I just got her back–”

It’s like a higher power hears her plea, her heavy limbs sliding her down the claws, crumpling straight to the floor. 

The ground blurrily comes up to meet her, head bouncing from the weakness. She can’t even hold up her own head. 

The impact jars her, the emptiness suddenly gone, replaced by thick syrup sticking to her throat, blocking the airway. 

Faint hollers reach her ears as her lung convulses with coughs, desperate to expel the blood pooling in her lungs. 

She’s been blessed again, right in the view of Ava’s wonderful face. Thank you. The last thing she’ll see before she dies. 

She thinks Ava’s face falls, but half her gaze is obscured by the cobblestones pressing into her face. The other half is hazy. Between the dark splotches, two Avas rush towards her, overlapping and separating with each sway. 

Ava’s twinkling voice sounds like it’s underwater, just out of reach for clarity.

“Bea–”

A deep chill runs through her bones, barely mustering up the strength to comprehend the words, but she’s here. 

“Stay with me Bea,” drifts into her ears. 

The pulses keep going, portals thrumming with energy. It was Ava, calling for her. 

But her heart misses a beat, pulsing a half-second slower than the dimensional field. Then a second. Then two. Then three.

The splotches have disappeared, replaced with a dark veil, falling like a curtain over her vision. Shaky hands gather her up into their arms. She wants to reciprocate, but her limbs refuse, weighed down by a million different forces.

The darkness abates for a second, Ava’s brilliant brown eyes shining back at her. Seeing her. 

“I missed you,” she chokes, copper on her tongue. It comes out weak, and for a second, she thinks that Ava hears nothing at all. 

“I love you,” Ava responds, clutching her closer. “Please don’t leave me, please don’t leave me.”

She hears, but her brain is slow to process, fuzzy and waning. But she has to say it back, she has to. She didn’t when Ava first left and now–

”I love you too.”

Her eyes have slid shut, so she doesn’t see the glow. But she feels the warmth, spreading over her limbs and soothing the aches and pains. 

She doesn’t see the Halo in Ava’s back, but she feels it, beating steady til hers matches.

“I’m not letting go of you yet love,” a tender promise by her ear.

The halo glows harder, a faint tingle in her side. 

It comes out stronger this time, steady and sure. She pries her eyes open, reveling in the soft glow. 

"Ava."

Ava stares back at her, devotion apparent. God, how Beatrice would kill to just touch her face, soft skin gentle under her fingertips. Warm and real.

Her body responds now, an affectionate smile curling her lips.

“I love you.”

In this life.

And evermore.

[asinvisibleasmillard]

Been playing Night in the Woods and oh my god it’s amazing and funny and really pretty. I had to draw my favourite character Bea.

[strawbebyjam]

have absolutely no clue what to do with myself HDDJDHDH

[planetpedri]

2 hands 𖦹 Lando Norris !

Summary: You’d avoided talking to Lando about how you felt like you were the only one holding the responsibility together. It was draining, and it was beginning to consume you.

Word count: 955+

Disclaimer/s: Angst, hurt/comfort, resolve at the end!

Bea speaks! Hi Verry Pooh!! This is for you.

The door clicking open had your head raising. You watched as Lando walked inside the apartment, exhausted and clearly ready to go to bed. He’d had a busy week and was home for the first time in nearly two weeks.

You sat at the kitchen table, a small midnight snack sitting in front of you—not that you’d even touched it. Your brain was too busy swirling with negative thoughts that you couldn’t even stomach your favorite snack.

Lando dropped his bags on the ground, his footsteps soft as he approached you. “Hey. I’m home.”

You’d long sensed looked back at your phone, not bothering to make eye contact with him as you spoke, “yeah. I noticed.”

Eyebrows furrowing, he slides onto the seat across from you. “What’s wrong?”

You let out a low bitter laugh, shaking your head. “You know, you are always asking me that. But, when I try to tell you why.. you just disappear. Walk away before I can even begin to explain.”

The dimly lit room only added to the tension as Lando stared at you, flinching at the harshness in your words. “Well, I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Eyes finally moving up to him, you look at him. Really look at him. Noting the bags under his eyes and the crease in his forehead.

“Are you?” You start, “because I feel like I’m holding us together with my own two hands and you’re hardly meeting me half way.” You finish, voice cracking so quietly, Lando wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t so tuned into you.

“Thats not fair.” The curly haired man replied, defensively. “You know how much my job expects from me—how much it means to me.”

Rubbing the bridge of your nose, your eyes clamp shut for a moment only to snap open to narrow on him. “I know how much racing means to you. But at what point am I allowed into this circle of what you care about?”

The silence that followed was thick and heavy, providing no comfort to either of you.

Eyes softening, Lando’s hand twitches and clenches into a tight fist on the counter—like it had to physically restrain itself from reaching out to you.

“I don’t want to lose you.” He confesses, voice barely above a whisper.

Meeting his eyes, which were filled with unshed tears, you exhale slowly. “Then stop making me feel like I’m the only one who wants us to work out.”

There was another long beat where neither of you moved or spoke. The room felt like the oxygen was slowly seeping out and suffocating you. Neither of you dared to speak first and you watched as Lando’s fingers fidgeted on the counter.

You could see him mind racing as he tried to find the right words to say. The words that could fix this mess he’d created.

Standing abruptly, you grab your plate and move towards the trash can. “Forget it, Lando.” You speak, dumping the contents. “I’m tired. I can’t keep having this conversation over and over again.”

“No.”

The defiant word cut through the room like a knife. “You don’t get to walk away from this conversation—not when it’s the exact thing I did to get into this mess.”

You turn around to face him, exhaustion written into your every feature. “What do you want me to say? That it’s fine? That it doesn’t matter and that I’ll be over it in the morning?”

“I don’t want you to say it’s fine.” Lando shakes his head, standing from his seat to meet your gaze. His voice softer now, “I want you to tell me how I fix this. Whatever I need to do, I will. Just don’t walk away.”

Lando wasn’t defensive anymore, just vulnerable. He wasn’t searching for an excuse or an argument. He was asking—genuinely asking, if not pleading.

“Lando..” You let out a shaky breath, your resolve faltering. “I just need to know you care. That I am important to you. I don’t want anymore spaced out late night calls and rushed conversations, I want your presence.”

Slowly crossing the distance between you, as if he was scared you’d pull away, he reaches out, hands settling on your waist. His thumbs rubbing slow circles into your skin, “You are everything to me. I’m sorry I’ve failed to show you that. You are the last person I want to fail, I’m sorry I’ve sucked at separating my job life from the love of my life.”

You swallow, hard. Eyes searching his for any insincerity. When you don’t find anything but raw and pure sincerity, mixed with regret and shame, your shoulders let go of their held tension.

“So, what now?” You whisper as you couldn’t bring yourself to exert any more emotions.

“I’ll show you.” Lando says, determination evident in his tone. He continued rubbing soothing motions on your exposed skin as he continued, “I’ll cut down on the media bullshit. Bring you to more races. Make time for you between everything. Whatever it takes, I will do it. Just give me the chance to prove it. Please?”

You could feel the truth in his words, especially when his voice cracked when he whispered ‘please?’.

The anger and frustration diminished in that moment. You nod slightly, “okay.”

Letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, Lando presses a tender kiss to the top of your head. “I love you.” He murmurs against your hair.

Resting your head against his chest, you allow yourself to inhale his scent—one that had always grounded you whenever you needed it to. “I love you, too.”

likes, comments, and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future lando posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @lechrts @sakashq @h4vertzz @spidybaby @joaoflms

[m-jelly]

Hi Jelly! I haven't sent a request in a while, so I want to fix that now.

So what about Levi and the reader who secretly in love with him?

Levi breaks up with his girlfriend (it was her decision), he is devastated and upset. He comes to his best friend, who supports him. He thinks that he is unlovable, but she confesses her feelings to him.

She convinces him that he deserves love and she loves him. He realizes that his happiness was always next to him. Levi confess that he loves her back. And in the end, they become a couple.

Hi, I'm going to change a few things about this, hope that's okay cause I'm not a huge fan of the reader being used as an emotional blanket by a friend and then that friend "suddenly realising" they want them. I've been through this first hand and it hurt a lot and I'm still healing.

@ladycheesington <3

Time heals all wounds.

Levi x fem! reader

Modern world, becoming a couple, friends to lovers.

Communication is important and you should always be open and honest with those you care for. Levi faces his own emotions and becomes honest which results in you being honest.

The slam of your front door drew your attention. You lived in a cosy house in a nice welcoming town. Since moving to the town for your mental and physical health, you'd become much better. You were happy. The man who walked in through your door was the sheriff and someone you'd fallen in love with, but he had a girlfriend so you stayed a friend.

Levi trudged over to you in your window seat with his brows furrowed and a confused look. "Bea broke up with me."

You stared at him as a rush of emotions went through you. You were happy because you had a shot now, but you were crushed that the man you cared for seemed hurt. "Right. What did she say?"

"She said I've become distant, not fully invested and don't imagine a future with her." He sighed. "That I'm with her out of duty not love and I don't love or care for her."

You winced. "Tad harsh."

He hummed. "I think...she...was right."

You closed your book and sat up. "She was right?" You shifted on the seat and patted the spot next to you. "Sit."

He sat down and leaned his arms on his thighs. "I mean. I didn't look forward to seeing her. I didn't hate seeing her. It was more like..."

"Routine?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I feel awful about it. I don't want to hurt people, but I hurt her."

You nibbled the inside of your lip. "Were you fully invested in the relationship when you started dating?"

He looked up and started to remember a few things. "Ah, well..."

"Levi?"

He looked over at you and felt his cheeks heat up. "When you're in love, how do you feel or react?"

You tilted your head. "Are you questioning if you loved her?"

"Well, I am." He shuffled closer. "How do you know you're in love?"

You pressed your lips together as you thought. "Mm, well...I guess you feel warm inside you. You want to see them all the time. When you're going to see them or they message or call you, you get butterflies and you find yourself smiling a lot. When you're with them you feel comforted by their presence. All you can think about is growing old with them. You want to spend the rest of your life with them. Everything they do or say touches your heart and soul. You adore everything. You want to do everything for them. When you become a couple, you don't stop trying to woo them. You still get them gifts, you still take them on dates and you do everything to make them smile, Plus, holding them or being held by them just brings you inner peace."

Levi stared at you with a cute pinkness on his cheeks. "Mm."

You cleared your throat. "Y-You know Morticia and Gomez and how they are with each other?"

Levi nodded. "Yeah."

"Like that."

He leaned back and tapped the back of his head against your window. "Like that." He echoed your words as he stared at processed things.

You tapped your knuckles against his temple. "You got a lot going on in there."

Levi turned his head and looked deep into your eyes making your heart race. "I do. Your words have unlocked a lot inside me. I need to think a lot through."

You smiled at him. "Well, as always I'm here if you need me."

He grabbed your wrist. "Hey, thanks...I'm trying to...um...can I hug you?"

You stared a moment before nodding. "Yeah, sure thing." You wrapped your arms around him. "You sure to like my hugs, huh?"

He squeezed you. "You have a talent for it."

You pulled back and smiled. "Pizza and movies?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Can we cook together? I like cooking with you."

"Sure!" You walked to the kitchen with him following behind. "We'll make pizza. I need your expert skills in dough making. So get those muscles wor-." You flinched when Levi hugged you from behind. "Levi?"

He tapped his forehead against your shoulder. "Sorry. Just...just for a moment."

"Okay..." You assumed it was because he was upset. You had no idea what the real reason was for holding you. Levi had realised a lot.

It'd been two months after Levi and Bea had broken up. Levi was doing fantastic and seemed happier. He was spending every waking moment with you or his friends. Bea was the opposite, she was happy at first but seeing Levi doing great she was getting unhappier.

The feelings you had for Levi were screaming at you to tell him. Levi was a lot more affectionate with you. He'd bring you gifts, flowers, food and drink as well as arrange days with you. Your heart kept telling you he was interested in you and to confess, but you were filled with so much self-doubt and worried that being with him would tank his reputation so soon after his last relationship.

You were sat in your bookstore filled with your usual customers and new ones enjoying drinks as they read in your cosy corner. While at your desk you had a piece of paper and a pen with you. You decided to put your feelings down on paper, but it was hard.

After thinking for a while you decided to start writing and it just flowed out of you. You explained how you believed Levi deserved the deepest and most pure love in the world. You said that he deserved so much in this life and he should charge for it. Near the end, you talked about how you've always loved him and cared so deeply for him. You wished him all the best and you'd understand if he wanted to stop being friends because you loved him.

A customer calling for you brought you out of your focus. You slipped away from your desk and walked over to them. Smiling brightly as you assisted them with getting the books they wanted and felt excited when they asked you for recommendations. You walked back with the gentleman to your desk to see Levi was standing there and your letter was gone.

Levi was glaring at the man with you who'd been making you smile and laugh. "Find everything you need?"

The man smiled. "I did. She's a peach and so helpful." He winked at you. "Thank you."

You smiled softly. "You're welcome. Check through them and if you're happy, I'll check you out."

"I hope you do 'cause I'm checking you out." He laughed. "I'm jesting...shit bad flirt...uh...I'll be back in a bit."

You waved to him as you hummed a laugh. "Sure." You walked over to your desk and sat. "Hey, Levi." You look around your desk. "Uh..."

Levi huffed. "I don't like that man."

"Ah, he's okay." You looked up. "Levi? Was there a letter on my desk when you arrived?"

He lifted the letter up as he continued to stare at the man. "You mean this one?"

You went pale as you gulped hard. "Did...did you read it?"

"Yes." He looked over at you and leaned on the desk. "I've been thinking hard since you told me what love is. I know without a doubt what love is now and who I actually love." He reached over and grabbed your hand and ran his lips over your fingers. "Knowing that the woman I love loves me back makes me incredibly happy. I came here today to ask you on a date." He kissed your fingers. "Your letter made me happier than words could describe. When I saw you I felt a rush of emotions and for the first time I finally understood this dark feeling I have been feeling often around you." He locked eyes with you as his look became arousingly dark. "I was a little jealous of you being with that man."

You gulped hard. "H-He was just b-being nice."

Levi released your hand and walked around to your side of the desk. It was cute how you backed up against the wall. He cupped your cheek and tilted his head. "I want you to be mine and only mine. I want to grow old with you." He said your name. "I love you."

Before you could speak his lips met yours in a passionate kiss. The two of you clung to each other, bodies pressed as you explored your love and the deep desires you had held onto for so long. The world around you both just vanished and you forgot all about where you were.

A clearing of a throat made Levi release your lips and look over to the noise while you hid your face against his chest. Levi stared at the man who had flirted with you. "Yes?"

The man strained a smile. "I want to buy these books."

Levi hummed and released you. "I'll do it."

"I was hoping-."

"She's busy." He scanned the books. "I'll do it."

He leaned a bit. "But I can see her right-."

"She's. Busy." He paused and stared at the man before continuing the transaction. He watched the man leave before turning to you. "Now, where was I? Oh yes." He cupped your face making you giggle. "You were going to tell me you love me too, right?"

You nodded shyly. "Yes. I love you too."

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a

@youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity

@nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @emilyyyy-08

@levistealeaf @pelicanpizza @hideandgopeep @notgoodforlife

@demonic-bird @searriously @anti-cupid

[hippielittlemetalhead]

Never Took The Time (To Forget) part 5: Man Of The Hour

Life is mildly less sucky with depression being more managed (also the mood boost from Renaissance Faires 😁) and my weekends being free again for me to travel to see my person. Still full of dumpster fires but I want to scream about it less. Also, been in feels very similar to the ones that inspired this whole endeavor so... enjoy?

Anywho, here's part 5! Enjoy, my little nerdlings. As always, feel free to yell at/with me in the comments, tags, reblogs and/or ask box. If you see any mistakes feel free to message me about them. 😬👌

Part 1: Hop Fucks Up, Part 2: Pride and Prejudices (Joyce Edition), Part 3: One of Us, Part 4.1: With A Capital P, Part 4.2: Robin's Boy

Steve Harrington was an odd duck. That's what his grandmother always used to say. She would pat his already proudly coiffed hair as he hung off the arm of her rocking chair and tell him as much whenever his parents took him to visit. He would beam at her with his big (reportedly pinchable by every aunt and grandmother in the family) cheeks and quack at her before cracking up at himself like he told the funniest joke and she would let him laugh until he rolled himself off her armchair to the plush carpeted floor. She would laugh and reach way over the arm of her chair to poke his stomach or cheek or nose, sometimes just his little forehead, before leveraging herself up out of her chair and taking herself to the kitchen to boot his mother out of it. Steve Harrington was a certified 'odd duck'.

Steve isn't sure, as he sits in that old rocking chair he had stolen liberated from his parent's house when he moved into his new apartment, when he became whatever he is now. He slowly rocks himself back and forth, the chair creaking a little as his weight shifts. The kids and other teens are chattering on the walkie but it's nothing too pressing, just nonsense and junk food emergencies, Mike cursing out Hop. His ribs hurt and his nose is sore but it doesn't feel like anything is broken. It sucks he knows what broken feels like. It sucks that Robin is kind of mad at him for getting hurt enough Owens pulled rank and had him dropped off at home and assigned someone to be the Party's chauffer for the rest of the day. It sucks that all the kids have their own plans tonight, leaving him to try and find ways to keep himself distracted without their usual insanity. A lot of things just kind of suck these days.

He feels himself smiling and picks up the walkie to confirm that he was alive and resting like ordered when he hears Dustin bickering with Robin about invading his apartment to check on him. That doesn't suck he supposes. He knows Robin and the kids care and he knows that eventually the soldier tasked with driving his hellions around is going to be bullied into driving them to see him, other plans be damned and the thought makes him smile.

The smile drops when he hears what sounds like a soft knock at his door. It's too sharp to be Widow Bea two doors over who leans on her walker and kicks the bottom of his door with her soft leather slippers that belonged to her late husband when she needs him to fix a cabinet or mix batter for whatever pastry she was making that week. And it's not the distinct pattern of Clara Damon from down the hall who will come and tap at his door to ask if he has an extra cup of sugar or spoonful of flour as she bats her eyes at him simpering about how she's making cookies or a pie or a casserole of some kind and inviting him to dinner with her and her folks to have some. He's always got an empty pantry and a surplus of plans when Clara Damon comes knocking. He and Widow Bea have standing poker nights with the other older ladies who all meet at the recreation building.

(It used to be the Harrington house. But his parents decided to sell to prove a point when they up and kicked him out and Owens needed a place to set up a promised recreation space and the gym was already a relief supplies warehouse.)

But the knock at his door isn't either of those. It could be someone else in the building. Could be one of his neighbors who have started to associate Steve Harrington with fighting mutated wild dogs caused by government experiments gone wrong and hauling around kids who seemed to cheat death and holding I.O.Us signed by the U.S army instead of the absent Harrington socialites who are known for swanning into town, flaunting their wealth and making themselves scarce again. The ones who he can sometimes hear whispering about him as he makes his way down the street or through Melvald's.

The knocking comes again, louder this time and firmer. It could be a lot of things and he doesn't want to deal with any of them.

Steve sighs, it could be important. He gets up to answer the door, breathing slow and shallow and letting himself lean on walls as he makes his way to the door. A third round of knocking and he's starting to get tired of it. He takes a slightly painful breathe to call out to whoever is trying to knock down his door to calm themselves down when, "Hey kid, Harrington, you in there?" That stops him a foot from his door.

His ribs hurt and his nose is sore and his leg is throbbing where a demodog got a lucky swipe on the meat of his thigh. But nothing is broken. His leg will be fine in a day or two. He hates that he knows what broken feels like. He hates that he knows what infected feels like. He hates that he knows the stone in his stomach and the clenching vice around his lungs has nothing to do with his injuries. His ribs scream at him when he pulls himself as tall and straight backed as he can, shifting himself so his weight is on his good leg and he can (hopefully) use the hallway wall and doorframe to support himself long enough to talk to Hopper and send him on his way.

He opens the door with a smile and feels himself falter a little when he sees Hopper standing there in a big tan canvas jacket and baseball cap and he's reminded of the times the older man would show up on his parent's doorstep with the same look on his face asking questions Steve didn't always know how to answer.

"Hey, Hopper." His voice is light and smile wide and loose and he just needs to keep this up. "What brings you to my neck of the woods?"

"Heard you got a bit banged up on a patrol?"

Steve shrugs. It takes more than he'd like to hide the pain that causes. "Just a couple bumps and bruises, nothing I can't walk off after a decent night's sleep. Owens is just paranoid these days, ya know."

"Owens huh?"

"Uh, yeah? That's who told you right? Cause I took a couple hits?" Hopper doesn't say anything, just looks at him with something that Steve might have once thought was concern about his potential injuries. He doesn't know why today of all days Hop decided to show up cause he got knocked around a little more than planned but it doesn't bode well when something in his face shifts and he lets out a tired sigh. "Oh, but don't worry!" That came out louder than he intended. "I'm totally fine. Like I said, I just need to walk it off and I'll be back out there in no time. You don't gotta worry about a thing, I've got it handled. Like I said, Owens is just overreacting. Nancy can cover for me tomorrow and then I'll be right back on the roster I promise. You and Mrs. Byers don't have to worry about a thi-"

"Steve. Shut up." He feels his jaw snap shut, the edge of his tongue and inside of his cheek getting caught in his teeth. "I didn't hear it from Owens. The kids told me. Owens knows you're hurt?"

"Uh, ye-yes sir. He's the one who sent me home. Gave the kids a detail to transport them and keep them protected while I'm out of commision. One officer to drive them around and they're being tailed by at least 3 others in case anything happens."

"Four soldiers just to replace you?"

"Oh they're not in that much danger! I'm perfectly capable of watching them usually, its just that Owen's guys are still kinda green even this deep in. Most of them just can't wrap their heads around the whole 'other dimension stuck in 1983' side of things." Hop's eyebrows shoot up under the bill of his cap. "But again, it's fine! I always take point whenever we go into a new sector and those guys are good as backup at least."

"But you're hurt." His eyebrows have come back down but now they're furrowed like he's confused or upset.

"Just a little!" He is not making things better. "I swear Hopper, you guys don't have to worry about a thing. I've got it handled, you don't have to-"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Harrington! Just shut up!" Steve flinches back, stepping further into his doorway as Hopper yells. The older man sighs, a big hand coming up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. He tries not to think of the times Robin and the kids have made fun of him for doing the same, calling it one of his 'dad poses'. "Look, I didn't come to try and give you shit about getting knocked around a little being stupid and playing soldier. I came to- I was going to ask." He sighs and his shoulders slump a little forward and his eyes are focused on the toes of Steve's (very comfortable) bat slippers that had been a gift from Wayne once the kids had told him Steve had been the one to drag Eddie out of the Upside Down. "Did you want to come over for dinner?"

Steve doesn't think he heard him right. "What?"

"Joyce is making some sort of spaghetti casserole-"

"Isn't that just baked spaghetti?"

"And we wanted to have you over. We haven't talked much since I came back. I'd like to change that."

"What?"

"You, dinner, at our place? With me and Joyce and the kids? I think Jonathan is bringing Nancy." Steve flinches and Hop silently curses himself bringing up the ex who cheated on him and the guy she cheated with.

"Why?"

"Uuh... Talking?"

Ah, he had it now. "What did the kids do? Just, lay it on me man, and I'll take care of it. Did they say something? I can have them over tomorrow and talk to them. Was it Mike, it was probably Mike, I'll get him to apologize, just-"

"Goddamn it Harrington I just wanted to ask you over for some dumbass spaghetti casserole thing and a decent conversation. Maybe watch a football game cause no one else in that house seems to enjoy a good game."

Steve isn't sure what's happening. "You want me to come to dinner. To talk?"

Hop sighs again. "Yes, kid. Just. Dinner and talking."

"Uh huh. Right. I'm just- I just need a minute." He tries not to slam the door in the man's face but he's definitely trying to be as fast as possible. He's not sure what the hell is going on but it has to be something because Hopper wouldn't just invite him over. And Joyce Byers definitely wouldn't want him in her house for something as simple as a talk and to watch football. It takes him longer than he'd like to reach the walkie on the little side table by his grandmother's rocking chair. His ribs are screaming at him and his elbow smarts from banging it on the corner as he turned into the sitting room.

"I need some sort of backup at my apartment. Like now please?!" He waits a second before pressing the speaker button again, "Over."

The walkie crackles and he hears an assortment of concerned chatter. "Steve?" Dustin's voice breaks through the general din. "What's the problem? Over."

"I- I'm not sure how to classify it? I've Got Hop at my front door but I think there's something wrong with him? Or something is trying to trick me it's him? Oh shit did I get Vecna'd??"

"Steve," Nancy snaps, shutting up most of the chatter and giving his rising panic something to focus on. "Why do you think it's not Hopper? Or that he's not in control of himself?"

"He- He invited me to the cottage for dinner?"

"What?"

"Yeah just dinner and talking? And that- that's weird right?"

Nancy sighs and Steve hears Hop say something from outside his apartment. He's running out of time. "Why is that so weird Steve?"

"Cause he doesn't like me. And Joyce really doesn't like me." He feels like that's obvious. "They don't like me and they're busy with other stuff. They wouldn't willingly ask me over for dinner and football or some shit so something has to be up."

"Seriously kid?"

He doesn't scream as he drops the walkie-talkie, spinning around to face the voice behind him.

"You're calling an emergency cause I invited you to dinner?"

Again, he feels like this is obvious. "Yes. I don't know what happened but we're going to fix it Hop, I promise. Or, like, if you're something controlling Hop or wearing his face or some shit I will figure it out and I will find the most painful way to kill you."

Hop runs a hand down his face again, he's going to have so many wrinkles after this. "Fucking Christ, kid. Is it so crazy that we wanted to try and get to know you? Make sure you're fed and taking care of yourself since apparently Owens isn't making sure you're alright?!"

What the fuck?

"Yes!" That seems to make Hop take a step back. "I tried for years to try and get the slightest acknowledgement from you! I've spent the last year taking care of the kids and monitoring the gates and fighting Powell and Owens every time they decide to try something stupid and almost get their men killed cause I realized you never meant it!" God he can hear his voice breaking and feel the tears starting to roll down his face. "You never meant it. But you meant it for El and Will and fuck, even Jonathan. And they deserved that. They needed you and you couldn't be there if you and Joyce were fighting with Owens and-" He can't hold back the sob that rips out from deep in his chest. "And I don't- I can't- I just-"

"Hey, hey kid. I need you to breath for me. Okay? Can you just let it out in one push and take a deep breathe in."

There's a large, warm hand rubbing up and down his back. His running nose is throbbing, his sore ribs are probably cracked now from how tightly he's folded in on himself and his injured leg feels wet like he pulled the stitches when he dropped to his knees on the threadbare rug. There's a deep rumbling voice talking to him, telling him how to breathe and asking him to sit up, let go of the walkie he can hear crackling as people call his name and ask Hopper what's going on. It's all just too much.

Why?

"What was that, kid?" Oh. He didn't mean to say that out loud.

"Why?"

"I fucked up. I'm trying this thing called owning up to my mistakes." Steve lets out a wet laugh that turns into a pained groan when it shakes his ribs. "Come on, let's get you up here." He tries not to cry out when Hop lifts him up from under his armpits, pulling at his ribs, but he knows he lets out a sharp whimper. "You fuck up your ribs?"

"What do you think?"

"Yeah, dumb question." Hop chuckles self-deprecatingly. "Look, let's get your ribs wrapped and we'll get you down to the hospital to get checked out an-"

"No. No hospital. Can't do 'em."

"Kid you need to get looked at and maybe some pain meds and antibiotics while you heal up."

"No fucking drugs." Steve practically growls, his teeth clenched and eyes burning as he stares up at Hop. "I'll take your fucking antibiotics but I can take a couple of ibuprofen and call it a day."

"A couple of- What the fuck, kid? You can barely walk and you're telling me you're not in serious pain?"

"I've had worse."

"Bullshit." The kid winces and the look on his face closes off. "Stop trying to be a hero and just admit you need help." Steve rolls his eyes.

"I'm fine, Hop. I've walked off worse."

"Again, I call bullshit."

"You know how thorough our Russian friends could be."

"What?"

Steve shrugs, an angry grimace on his face. "Once you live through Russian military questioning and hiking through Upside Down Hawkins, most everything after that's a piece of cake."

"Jesus Christ-"

"I don't think saying his name is gonna make him listen to ya now."

"Ya ain't cute, kid."

Steve gives him the same smile he always did whenever Hop crashed one of his 'King Steve' parties. "I'm adorable." He chuckles at himself and Hop finds himself laughing along at the kid's attitude. "What do you want, Hopper?" Steve's voice is quiet. It wavers in a way that tells him the kid is sad and hesitant and tired and Hopper can feel something niggling at the back of his mind. "You come over out of the blue asking me to dinner with your family like that's something we do. What the fuck man? What are you trying to do?"

"Like I said kid: I realized fucked up. Bad. And I'm trying to fix it."

"That's it?"

"Yeah. Yeah it is."

Steve leans back, the rocking chair leaning farther back than Hop feels comfortable with considering the kid's injuries but he manages to not rock back so far he falls. "Alright then. So what do you need?"

Hop can't follow this kid at all and he's not sure when that happened. If it's always been like that. "What are you talking about kid? You're the one that's all beat up." His mind goes back to swollen eyes and bruised knuckles covered in a rainbow of haphazardly placed bandages being fussed over by a group of dirty but uninjured kids. Bloody sailor uniforms rounding up rowdy kids without a mark on them despite obvious injuries and a slight limp and what might be bruised ribs. Bandages being removed to expose red raised around a strong neck that looks like someone took barbed wire to it and bulky bandages poking out from beneath stolen shirts. "What are you talking about what I need?"

Steve lolls his head to look at Hopper. For the first time all evening his eyes are trained on the older man unflinching and not anxiously darting away. His smile is more a resigned grimace. "What do you need to get Robin -and I'm guessing the kids- off your back?"

"It's not just because of them."

"But it is because of them."

"I want to make this right."

"It's not yours to fix, Hop. I've made peace with that. Thought I'd made that clear to the rest of them."

"I thought the kids didn't know."

"Not about you being my emergency contact and like, in charge of making big medical decisions if they couldn't get a hold of my parents. But that you'd stop by the house to make sure I hadn't like drowned washing my hair after I took a beating. That I put more stock in that than I should have."

"You were right to put stock in that stuff Steve. Fuck, if I knew anyone else in that situation I'd assume they'd basically adopted you. It makes sense."

Steve shrugs, wincing less this time. "That's life, can't fix it now."

"Will you let me try?"

"I mean. I'm giving you a get-out-of-jail-free card here man."

"And I'm not taking it."

"Well. It's there, whenever you decide to take it."

"Thanks but no thanks, kid."

"Hey, your choice Hop. Ever get tired of the boardwalk just say the word and it's yours. Do not pass 'Go!'. Do not collect $200."

"Monopoly, really?"

"My head may have gotten a knock too. Not a concussion but I'm a little... swimmy."

"Swimmy?"

"Uhm-hmm"

Hop chuckles, "You're an odd duck, kid, you know that? An odd, pain in my ass, duck."

Steve feels his face splitting in a wide smile that pulls at a small cut on his lip and lets his head fall back, his body finally starting to come down from the adrenaline rush that has been this entire interaction.

"Quack quack."

Tag list (I think this is everyone?)(If you see this post and your tag didn't work let me know cause they don't always work for me Idk why):

@thelittleclare @jackiemonroe5512 @0body0disphoria0 @strangersteddierthings @lingeringmirth @dead-cherry-bitch @irethsune @ink777 @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner @ledleaf @pansexuality-activated @paintsplatteredandimperfect @kinryuuki @yikes-a-bee @altocumulustranslucidus @ohimamarigold @samsoble @sensationalsunburst @xxbottlecapx @y4r3luv @swimmingbirdrunningrock @flustratedcas @rootbeerandmusic @vinteraltus @wonderland-girl143-blog @failedstarsandgoldenclouds @steddie-as-they-go @steveshairspray86 @youdrewstarsxaroundmyscars @i-amthepizzaman @wormapothacary @croatoan-like-its-hot @maya-custodios-dionach @ineffable-monster-romancer @asquareinverona @ellietheasexylibrarian @pukner @bookworm0690 @nightmareglitter @joekeerysmoles @salchica @lawrencebshoggoth @iheartjennaaa @child-of-cthulhu @anaibis @rocochen20 @katdeerly @samcoxramblings @fiore-della-valle

[arkanis-englishupdates]

SUMMARY OF ALL ARKANIS POVS

DAY 57 & DAY 58 — 29/10/2024 & 30/10/2024

DAY 59 — 29/10/2024

The day in Valigma starts off chaotic with countless strange things happening.

The statue of Mayor Jota has disappeared from its location in the center of the lake, being replaced by a statue of a villager emitting a purple light. Some villagers also disappeared.

After the encounter with Choke, Guzhera wakes up and realizes that he has turned into a small frog (The kiss they shared on the date was what caused his transformation).

Quel, JVNQ, Gabepeixe, Beatriz, Guhzera and Coreano get together to talk about what was happening. Beatriz comments that Bia Raux threatened the new group if they hurt the specialists, in a conversation between Moonkase and Bia Raux.

JVNQ remembers a statement from Bagi about Cherry having been killed by Bia, draining her energy, information she got from Mona, but Quel clarifies that Bia was not responsible, without being able to go into more details. Quel claims that Bagi never liked Bia, and says in a rhetorical question, that Araldo would be the most obvious to kill someone/steal vital energy (Since he killed Alice in the same way).

Quel explains to Beatriz the classifications of encoders, decoders and Offrya training, as well as sharing Bia Raux's dreams, in which the new group represented the hope of a new type of Arkanya.

The group decides to call Moonkase to talk too. There, Moonkase explains about Bia's threat and about not being sure about teaching Arkanya to specialists, as it is a very complex power. JVNQ then starts arguing with Moonkase about her not actually wanting to teach them because she doesn't realize that if they don't cooperate, they might regret it again later (He says that, as the new specialists have not faced or dealt with deaths and tragedies in the city, they do not know how important collaboration is)

Quel interrupts the discussion between Moon and JVNQ, asking Moonkase what her suggestion would be. Moon admits that they don't know how to teach Arkanya, and Quel asks if Marília, their mother and teacher, would know how to teach. Moon and Bea confirm yes.

Quel then suggests that everyone look for Marília. Bea explains that she is a very powerful coder who adopted them as family.

To help with the search, Moonkase describes her to the group:

She has long black hair with two white streaks in the front, part of the face hidden by a type of mask. Wears a black blanket, has amber eyes and pointy ears.

Despite not being very affectionate, she always took care of them like children. Moon and Bea still say that, maybe, Malena was Marília's favorite.

During the conversation, Nicklink appears dressed completely differently, darker than before. He quickly leaves the two times he returns to observe the group's conversation.

The conversation is interrupted by a quick and confusing appearance of Bala Laikah, but they realize it was something different. Suddenly night comes and the monster flies around.

Nicklink receives a letter from Jota who apologizes for having kicked him out so abruptly and invites him to the city again, with a fixed salary just like all the specialists. Everyone in town also sees the apology letter.

Moonkase decides to go to the lake with Amora and the two realize that the old statue had returned to the location. They wonder if the water in the lake has finally been clean.

Quel goes to Maethe and the two talk about this apology letter, and Quel says she is outraged by this, because Nicklink threatened them. Maethe says she isn't taking this into consideration, because of what they did before, and Quel tells her to forget about it. The two soon meet Choke and start gossiping about the date.

JVNQ arrives and takes the girls to the District, where Choke finds Guhzera transformed into a frog, she kisses Guhzera and he returns to human form. They stay talking and gossiping for a while.

Later, at Beatriz's house, they are surprised by a meteor shower that creates several craters. The group realizes that the attacks are aimed at Beatriz. Time turns, blue lighting strikes begin to fall on them, and the group moves to the District to protect themselves.

DAY 60 — 30/10/2024

The morning in Valigma starts off lively because of a funny event organized for the day.

Pac and other specialists present talk to Nicklink, who reveals a fraction of his power. They suspect that Nicklink was the perpetrator of the fatal meteor shower occurred yesterday.

Guaxinim and Pac talk "seriously" about Guaxinim wanting to be vice but then changing his mind (In his words: "IF I WERE YOUR VICE WE COULD NOT DATE EACH OTHER!").

The CEVA launches its second project: A Hide and Seek in an arena personalized for each player! The specialists will compete for a grand prize of J$5,000.00.

After a few minutes, the event finally begins!

The first to seek are Pac and Mike, with the Hiding Team winning the round (Milo, Febatista and JVNQ).

The second round starts with Alexey and Amora seeking, with the Hiding Team winning again.

In the third round, JVNQ, Himaru and Pac seek. The Hiding Team wins once again.

In the fourth round the Seeker Team is Malena and Gabepeixe, but again the Hiding Team surprisingly wins.

In the final round, Guhzera and Beatriz are chosen to seek, but once again they lose to the Hiding Team.

The Event ends with a large and devastating explosion in the center of the game, with all players being teleported to Valigma again.

[candyskiez]

Could you please tell us everything about Night in the Woods I am so intrigued to hear all your thoughts about it (<- have never played the game but eh I don't care about any spoilers)

I NEVER TALKED ABOUT THIS? FUCK.

OKAY. OKAY. NIGHT IN THE WOODS.

It's a game about capitalism, first and foremost. Like I mean It Is A Game About Capitalism. Pretty much every main conflict is in some way influenced by it. Specifically about how capitalism affects your mental health and relationships and how it's almost impossible to exist as a mentally ill person under capitalism.

The protagonist, Mae, has severe mental health issues. She hallucinates, she has mood swings, we don't know what she specifically has but it's very Real and the slow build up to showing it was very well done imo. It wasn't a plot twist it was the slow realization that she'd had these issues for so long and gotten zero help for it, and how all these little things had contributed to it. She's always fucking up relationships, she has anger issues, she feels Unlovable and like everyone hates her and sometimes maybe she hates everyone too, it's all a massive fucking mess and she has no idea how to fix it and she feels so goddamn broken. She dropped out of college because the hallucinations and breakdowns got so intense she could hardly leave her room, and when she came back there was so much judgement about dropping out and. It hurts, man! It really hurts! Her parents made her feel like she'd failed them, Bea felt like she just threw away her ticket out of this town, Agnus worried she was a bad influence on Gregg- even though these people were pretty good they're not immune to taking shit out on each other under the stress of working to stay alive. It's so messy and so realistic. It's all about how capitalism only benefits those on top and shreds the mental health of everyone being exploited by it, whether you have a job or not. There is no winning at capitalism. Dan is always looking for jobs and always getting fired. Bea is miserable at her job. Agnus and Gregg are working seven days a week and they're still tight on money.

And Casey couldn't get a job. We don't know why. And we don't know why because a cult killed him for not being Productive. They said nobody would miss him. One of the first things Mae does in the game is miss him. His parents put up posters. The missing poster is one of the first things you see in the game. "Nobody would miss him" because he didn't Contribute. We barely know anything about him, just that he apparently meant the world to so many characters in the game. Gregg was willing to kill a man when he learned Casey was dead. And they thought nobody would miss him because he wasn't Useful. And we will never know Casey's story because a bunch of bigoted assholes decided his life wasn't worth anything.

But the game is also about community. How capitalism tries to kill it and also how community is the only way to survive it and to maybe fix things. The only reason Mae survived is because she had a community. The reason Casey didn't survive is because he didn't have one. It's about how even though Mae cannot keep a job right now, she still has a place in her community because she exists. She still deserves a place in it, no matter how "Difficult" she is. It's about how Mae feels isolated and like the world is just dead and there's nothing left in it for her, but there are so many people who are alive in that community. There are so many people who see her and who like seeing her run by and who care about her. It's about the fact that the people who try to isolate her from her community because of her breakdown as a kid are actually kind of fucked up! And it's about the fact that community is what saves them. Bea runs off and almost gets herself in massive danger, but Mae runs after her. Even after all the messy shit between them, Mae runs after her. Even though Mae has messed shit up with them so many times, her friends love her. And when she says "I need to do this alone" they actively refuse to let her! They refuse to let her pull the main character card and follow her into danger because that's their friend! She tells them this is all her fault and they don't even humor her for a second. Because she is part of their community and nothing is going to change that.

And just. Oh my god the Scene where Mae confronts....whatever the thing in the mine is. Cosmic horror, hallucination, metaphor for her own inner Shit, whatever you wanna call it. She goes on about how she's always had this in her head. She has always felt disconnected from the world. She's always known shit was unfair and there's always been people having insane systems to hurt people and everything has always been like this. And she has always had these issues. She's always been too angry. She's always been volatile. She's always had periods where her brain works against her. And she just screams at what she thinks is a god that she gets it. She will always have these feelings. She will never stop being wired like this. And whether or not that's fair doesn't matter. But she wants it all to matter. And she is GOING to make it matter. She isn't going to die here. She isn't going to let herself die, and she isn't going to sacrifice herself, and she won't let any random Thing she sees control her choices. She is going to LIVE. She wants her death to hurt. She wants to go down fighting, and she will. No matter what this thing is, she does not fucking care. She can't even understand it. Why should she care about something that doesn't care about her? In that scene I mentioned before, "God" told her it didn't care. It had no reason to care. So why should she look for validation from something that had no reason to give it to her? Why should she let something that wasn't even in this world determine her worth and whether or not her life matters? She decides right then and there that her life matters, and that she will make it matter, and she wants to hope again. She wants to be happy again. And she won't take no from something that doesn't even care and didn't have a reason to. And she lives.

I fucking love this game.

[porcelaintoybox23]

BbRob snippets as promised

“Better or worse?”

“Worse.”

The doctor nods before moving the testing machine. Despite the room’s light being dimmed as much as possible, Dick still squints his eyes.

“Your glasses will be ready by next week. We’ll send you an email.”

He nods and fishes out his temporary lenses and flips on the shade attachments. The sun is still out and he can’t drive blind. He’s so tempted to call Alfred, but that would require a ouija board, and this line of humor isn’t funny. Fingers dig into his palms and he’s grateful the glasses hide the tears forming.

Alfred died over a year ago, but it’s only been a few months for him. It was a lovely service, one he couldn’t appreciate because he wasn’t there, Ric was. Dr. Kirk would tell him to work on acceptance, not in the “I’m okay with this” way but in the “You can’t change what happened” way.

He still doesn’t understand the difference. Either way, he’s furious and hurt, and he wants to fall down and scream—

“Mr. Grayson?”

Dick jolts and looks down. The receptionist is eyeing him from a distance, gaze focused on the door handle he’s currently ripping off its screws. Another lovely reminder that he’s no longer fully human.

“Oh. Sorry” He fixes it and hightails it to the car.

God, he’s already so tired and it’s only ten. This appointment was the only thing he had to do today, so he can head home and bury himself under three blankets and a double layer of fuzzy socks. He shivers as the car warms up and checks his phone. Bea messaged while he was inside.

You okay?

Yeah, heading home.

Lmk if you want any food.

***

“Dick?”

“Do I know you?”

“Duh,” he smacks his head. “It’s me Gar, beast boy? I’m just wearing a glamour. Why are you in Colorado?”

“I was looking at an apartment here but it just sold.”

“I don’t mind having a roommate. It’d be like old times.“

***

“Pardon my French *insert the French for your father is a fucking piece of shit.*

“You speak French?”

“I got bored”

***

“Uh, alcohol and antidepressants do not mix.”

***

Gar shifts back to normal and tucks his chin into his shoulder.

“Good morning?” Bea smirks

“I’m realizing that this looks strange.”

***

“Get off.”

“No. I refuse for my grave to read crushed into paste by Dick Grayson’s thighs.”

***

He deepens his voice. “Talon!”

Dick freezes, muscles twitching against the command. He takes a shaky step forward.

“Talon, at ease.”

He finally relaxes to parade rest. “What are your orders?”

I think I’m going to puke.

“Sit down on the couch. Don’t move unless I order you.”

There’s no tension in his stance as he moves. He sits with his hands folded and stares at Gar, waiting for his next command.

Gar gestures Rae to the door.

“Walk out normally. Your magic might freak him out.”

She nods and steps out.

He kneels in front of Dick, making sure to meet his eyes. “Dick?” Nothing.

“Can you tell me five things you can hear?”

“The air conditioner, the dog whimpering, Amalee Vong vacuuming downstairs, a doorbell, and your accelerated heartbeat.”

“Okay. Do you know where we are?”

“Denver, Colorado. Kensington apartment complex, floor 3, room 215.”

Gar nods. The light seems to be returning to his eyes. “Who resides here?”

“You, Garfield Logan, age 23, code name: menagerie.” His hands tremble and Gar holds them.

“And?”

“Richard…John Grayson, commonly known as ‘Dick Grayson’, age 25, codename: Nightwing.”

“And that’s?”

The tremors worsen and Dick pales. “M—me.” He yanks his hands from Gar’s and curls into a shaking ball.

“Dick. Look at me.”

He curls in tighter.

Gar sighs. “Do you want me to leave?”

He shakes his head.

“Would you prefer if I changed?”

“No.”

“I’m moving next you, okay?”

“O—okay.”

Gar leans in gently. Dick’s shiver are probably a mix of adrenaline and cold. “I’m wrapping us in the blanket.” He gets no response and proceeds. He drapes it loose around them.

“Could you talk?”

***

“A burden? What the fuck is wrong with you people? Loving someone isn’t a burden, he isn’t a burden! How—how can you…”

He grabs Dick’s hand. “We’re leaving.”

***

Dick’s smirk is threatening to split his face, but he can’t help it. Gar’s eyes shift between him and the mirror, face becoming grumpier with each pass.

“Who do I look like?”

“A kpop idol.”

“I literally hate you.”

***

“Vegetarian sushi. It’s all the rage in SoCal.”

He gestures with the chopsticks. “C’mon, it’s good I swear.”

***

Dick blinks as the code he’s writing becomes an endless stream of gibberish.

“Gar, what the hell?”

The cat rolls its eyes. “It’s 2 am, go to sleep.”

***

“This is a complete and utter waste of my powers and time.”

Dick flashes his strongest puppy dog eyes. “Please, Rae?”

She sighs. “Gar is taller by 2cm.”

Dick’s jaw drops as Gar cheers. “What do you mean he’s taller?”

“You’re both pretty short. It’s just a few centimeters, who cares?”

“Centimeters broke up the Pines twins!”

Gar gives him the stink eye. “It was a millimeter, Richard.” He looks to Raven. “Fake fans, am I right?”

Rae disappears in a plume of smoke.

“If she keeps doing that, we’ll never get our deposits back.”

***

“My uncle tried to kill me for my inheritance which wasn’t great. “

“It’s hard. I miss my parents but they weren’t always there, y’know? They dragged me all over for their research and it nearly killed me. I like being a vigilante but there are times that I wish I was normal, that I was still human and didn’t have ptsd from experimentation and Armageddon.”

“Which one?”

They both share a humorless smirk.

***

“So…wanna see the Barbie movie?”

Dick blinks. “S—sure?”

“Two tickets, please.”

“I hate that it was good. Why was it good? You’re the detective here. Explain.”

Dick shrugs. “Some things are inexplicable.”

***

“Okay, let’s do this.”

“You look like you’re heading to the chair”.

Gar sneezes. “It’s 32 degrees.”

***

“You’re sick.”

“just a cold.” His voice cracks and bends as he strains to reply. “Go to your thing.”

Dick throws a blanket over his shoulders and heads to the kitchen.

“Already asked for the day off.”

“You did this when we were titans. Pretend you’re fine, hide yourself away and suffer alone. Can’t say I’m any better.”

“Old habits die hard.”

***

Gar rubs his stinging eyes. “Jesus, fuck. I’m sorry.”

Dick feels empty, deflated. The confrontation he’s been dreading went to shit and the only person reacting normally is his friend.

“I just don’t get it. Like—how…ugh I’m making this about me. How are you?”

Honestly, a bit in awe. Few people can withstand Bruce’s glare, much less the full wrath of all the bats, yet Gar did. Stood unflinching, eyes glowing in animalistic rage on his behalf.

“I’ll be fine. I didn’t expect that to go well.”

***

“Where do your clothes go?”

“I don’t know and at this point I’m too afraid to learn”

***

You’re the type of person who makes tea in the microwave

[kendrene]

oooOOOOOOH how's about avatrice with "You’re so warm.” ?? :)

The paper is thin under the pads of her fingers. 

Ava smooths it flat against the surface of the table, holding it there. Presses hard enough she can feel the ridges of the old wood through it, where age and neglect chipped the paint job away. Her thumb catches against a deep groove. Some past accident. The table meeting a knife. 

She pushes down harder. Her fingers, her hand, all the way to her elbow it’s just one big ache. She aches all over today. Then again, she hurts all over most days. Her free hand scrambles past a stack of unused paper for the pencil she’d let go to shake off a cramp. It skidded far across that sea of white and Ava is forced to stretch, bow over the table in order to grasp it. The motion tilts her halfway out the chair, which rolls back; Ava shifts her hips forward and sets herself back to her task. 

The book she's copying words from is the one Bea had gotten for her second-hand the first and last time they were here. The apartment is the same too, down to leaking pipe beneath the sink Beatrice still hasn't figured out how to fix.

It's Ava who's different. And everything else that has changed.

In the textbook, rows upon rows of German words and phrases march alongside their Portuguese counterparts. It had taken several tries for Beatrice to find it, days of scouring flea markets in the small towns nearby. Sometimes alone, most often with Hans. 

“It’ll be easier to learn if you build up from your native language.” She explained after Ava had pointed out an English to German book would have worked just as fine. It had been. Easy.

Except now it’s hard.

Today’s lesson is about the items used in the kitchen. Der Wasserkocher, Ava writes diligently, eyes flicking to the battered red tea kettle sitting on the stove. Der Ofen, she adds on a whim. Even though it isn’t in the book, she knows the German word for stove.

She’s about to write down the word for dishwashing detergent, which is long winded and sputtery both in letter count and in sound, when another cramp hits.

This is the worst one so far. It starts at her fingers, trailing up from her hand to the hinge of her wrist in increasingly powerful waves. Ava’s entire arm seizes. She watches her hand contract like it isn’t her own. Clench, release, tighten, release. The final shock has the pencil tear a hole through the last, half-written word, then snap against her palm.

Ava sucks in a breath at the sting. A sharp fragment of wood scores in her skin. She wills her hand to relax so she can take a look at the damage, but it’s an impossible ask, as though her internal wiring has been cut. Ava thinks about her fingers uncurling, face fixed in a frown. Thinks about it so hard she makes herself dizzy. Her hand stays exactly the same, and droplets vivid red, more viscous than ink, patter down on the page.

The rest starts while she watches the droplets expand. Ava knows, logically, that she’s not bleeding that much. Wherever she looks, though, she sees red. Red kettle, red microwave, old red radio on top of the fridge. 

Ava closes her eyes, or maybe it’s her vision that crawls dark at the edges. There is a shift, a tilt to her axis, and the next thing she is aware of is her cheek, bruised, pressing against linoleum warmed by the sun. 

“Ava?” Beatrice calls, voice uncertain, from what could be the opposite side of the world. “Ava I heard a noise. Are you —?” Ava blinks hard. Next to her, one of the chair’s rear wheels revolves slowly. “Ava?” Beatrice again. Closer. “Do you need me to — oh.” 

Strong hands cup beneath her armpits. Lifting, pushing, pulling away. Ava’s world spins with the faltering speed of a merry-go-round that’s finally come to a stop, and she finds herself propped against something that is, at once, solid and soft.

“Hey.” Beatrice’s lips are pressed to the shell of her ear, mouth half slanted in the hair behind it. “Ava, I think that you’re having a panic attack. I’m going to put my arms around you now. I don’t want you falling again. Is that okay?” 

Ava just nods. 

She feels as battered and old as this house, where some things are broken and others don’t work like they should. Her body isn’t even her own anymore; she’s along for the ride, but doesn’t control it. Walking and running — something as stupid as writing. She can’t seem to be able to consistently do any of it anymore. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” Beatrice’s arms wind around her middle and she’s rocking the two of them gently, back and forth, in time with the sobs Ava hadn’t even realized are shaking her shoulders. “It’s alright.” One of Beatrice’s hand worms its way under her shirt, to the spot where the Halo sits heavy and idle and so very cold. “Just breathe with me. Do you think you can do that?”

Beatrice takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. “Like so. Now we do it together okay? On my count. One. Two —”

On three Ava opens her mouth. The first breath is torturous, like pulling in air through a straw. It doesn’t help that her nose is runny and clogged, and that the hand she lifts up to wipe it only makes it as far as her chest.  

“Here.” Beatrice’s fingers guide hers around a handkerchief she must have had in her pocket, then help Ava bring it to her nose. The fabric is the kind of soft that comes with a lot of washing and the pattern — Ava thinks it was once a herd of stylized galloping horses — is pretty much gone. She blows her nose, and the next breath she takes comes a bit easier.

“Better?” 

“I think so.” Her voice still feels off, as if she’s speaking a language she doesn’t quite know. Ava fights down another sob. “I don’t know.”

“Okay.” Beatrice scoots them backwards so that they’re further away from the table and fully sit in the sun. Ava watches her legs trail along; she’s starting to regain a measure of feeling, and with it comes the pain from her fall. It will be a while until they can move, longer until she can heave herself up on the wheelchair on her own. If she’s lucky, tomorrow will be a good day and she’ll be able to walk. If she’s lucky.

Lately, she’s not been very lucky at all.

“Have you heard of the 3-3-3 rule?” Beatrice asks, breath a warm wash against the side of Ava’s throat. Her hands have never stopped moving. One splays over the Halo, steady and grounding. The other covers Ava’s nerveless fingers, thumb tracing the network of veins at her wrist, that look bluish-black in the sun. 

“I know the 5 seconds one.”

Beatrice snorts. It tickles.

“That’ll do. Can you tell me three foods that you like then, Ava?”

Ava frowns. She’s starting to come back to herself, and with her mind clearing up and the fear wearing away it’s easy to see what Beatrice is doing.

“I know what you’re doing.”

“Then humor me, please?” The hand at her back pauses, and a hum rises from under Ava’s skin in response. It’s nothing. It’s nothing. The Halo has barely kept her alive as it is. Ava tries not to get her hopes up. She did at the start, after she came back through the Arc, and it was a big disappointment. 

She can’t afford to get hurt that way, not again. She wouldn’t survive. 

“Ugh, fine.” Afternoon sunlight, buttery smooth, streams in through the window, coating the entire world gold. “Mint chocolate chip ice cream.” 

“You have horrible taste, but go on.”

“Tacos al pastor.” 

“Okay, I can get behind those.” The hand on her back travels lower, following the ridges, the dips of her spine, and Ava feels it again. The tiniest hum, a buzzing. It’s almost a sigh. “What’s the third food?” 

“You.” 

The hand falls away. Beatrice’s arms around Ava tighten. Chin hooked over Ava’s shoulder , she rests her head there for a beat, face naturally tilting into the space between collarbone and jaw like a comet unable to resist a planet’s orbit.

“Ava.” A flash of heat spreads across Ava’s back, and she can’t tell whether it comes from the Halo or if Beatrice is blushing.

“What?”

“I just —” Bea smiles against her shoulder, plants a kiss there. “I’m not very nutritious, calories wise.”

“True.” Ava twists around in Bea’s arms, makes herself comfortable there. Given a choice, she’ll stay like this for the rest of the day. “But you’re tasty.” 

Beatrice clears her throat. “We should get you off the floor.” She suggests, deflecting. Her gaze cuts away to the floor, and she swallows. Ava will never tire of it, of how even the slightest flirting will have Beatrice in knots. Of how she’ll swallow, cheeks suffused red, pulse racing, near visible, under the cut of her jaw.

“Wait.” Ava digs in, hand gripping the front of Bea’s light pullover. She sways forward and in, and her lips brush on purpose right at Bea’s throat. Her heart pounds so fast Ava can taste it. Or maybe it’s her own. “Can we stay here a while longer? You’re so warm.”

Beatrice pulls back to look at her, mouth quirking into a bigger smile.

“We can stay here a while.”

//

“Die Schwester” Lilith has picked up Ava’s textbook after dinner and is making her way through some words, mangling them all. 

“Your German is terrible.”

“My German is perfect, thank you very much. It’s simply accented.”

“Whatever. Give me my book back.” Ava braces one elbow against the wheelchair’s armrest and stretches up, the other arm fully extended. Lilith puts the book down, just out of reach. 

“I’m so gonna run you over.”

Lilith scoffs. “And how do you plan to do that?” 

“We’re in the Alps. I’m going to wait until you’re on an incline, then let gravity do the rest.”

“Sure.”

Lilith phases. Reappears behind Ava a second later to help her closer to the table where Camila and Mary are setting the pizza they ordered for dinner on plates. 

“Why are you learning family vocabulary anyway? You and Bea are pretty fluent already.” 

“I’m not.” Ignoring the plates, Ava grabs for the box of pizzawitheverythingonit nobody else has the stomach to touch. The first bite is delicious but hot. Ava juggles the food in her mouth, speaking around it. “I have the best family ever already.”

Everything’s changed. 

Nothing is ever the same.

Ava will not walk today and she may not walk tomorrow. But as the sky fades to black and they crowd on the old couch, fighting over whose turn it is to pick a movie, Ava thinks change is alright. 

[avatrice-week]

Avatrice Week 2023 Masterpost

Day 1 - Fake Dating or Undercover

Title: Tell Me You Don't Know Me Author: quietblueriver Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Summary: Ava and Beatrice run into Beatrice's parents.

Title: Always a pleasure Author: orphan_account Rating: General Audiences Summary: “And this is the, uhm, wife, I presume?”

Title: Serenading in the Trenches Author: spaceosshy Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Summary: Beatrice and Ava are reunited after almost a year apart. They're immediately tasked with going undercover, posing as a married couple of prolific assassins in the hopes of putting a stop to Adriel's criminal activies.

Title: Missions and Love Author: Creativityx Rating: General Audiences Summary: Ava has been assigned to work with the OCS' top agent, Beatrice. It was a simple mission, pretend to be girlfriends, capture one of Adriel's followers and return to the OCS. What Ava wasn't planning for was her fake girlfriend being so beautiful.

Title: when dividin' up the universe (you could have mine) Author: organicdonut Rating: General Audiences Summary: “Okay, so. I have, uh, some updates,” Beatrice does not like the way Ava said updates, “About last night.” “Will the updates explain why everyone in the bar is looking at me like I’ve forbidden alcohol?”

Title: Will you be my fake girlfriend? Author: jessnope Rating: Not Rated Summary: “Wouldn’t people think it weird?” Ava asked, looking genuinely thoughtful. Somehow, Beatrice could sense it was a trap even through the state of tiredness she found herself, Ava had a spark in her eyes.

Title: Philanthropy for the Heart Author: SharonSharpe Rating: Explicit Summary: The Areala General Hospital is hosting its annual charity gala and everyone is excited for the social event of the season. That is everyone except Dr. Beatrice Young. When she makes the mistake of saying Ava is her date for the gala the two are forced to address their flourishing feelings for the other.

Day 2 - Injured or Sick

Title: Life is About More Than Just Fighting Author: strongwomenunited Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Summary: At the end of 2x06, you can see that Beatrice clearly had an injured side, yet in 2x07, it's magically healed. In this story, Ava finds Beatrice after Mother Superior has been brought back to life trying to get her armor off, but her side is in pain. So we will see some hurt/comfort, but you know emotions come out and their relationship changes...

Title: A Sick Day Author: strongwomenunited Rating: General Audiences Summary: During the two month period, Beatrice gets a cold after a busy night at the Bar, do they end up training or does Ava make her rest?

Title: That Lilith Voice Inside My Head Author: quietblueriver Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Summary: AU - Lawyer!Bea tries to bring Ava soup. Lilith helps. Sort of.

Title: I'll Hold You (Blood, Bruises and All) Author: spaceosshy Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Summary: The Halo pulses as Ava roars with rage, knocking Beatrice’s assailant backwards into the stone wall. He falls, limp and unmoving. Ava can distantly hear all the times Mother Superion has told her to check the body but she doesn't care. She's already halfway to Beatrice’s side.

Day 3 - Jealousy

Title: What Love Feels Like Author: strongwomenunited Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Summary: In 2x02, what if Miguel didn't walk into Bar La Vasseur while that woman was flirting with Beatrice? What if Ava took things into her own hands to end that conversation...? This story explores the idea of Ava spilling some drinks on a certain woman flirting with Beatrice. How will she react?

Day 4 - Soulmates

Title: Soulmarked Author: Creativityx Rating: General Audiences Summary: That fateful day when she was seven, saw her soulmark left incomplete with only the letter 'B' on her wrist. Ava learns to wear long sleeves that day. With little hope of finding her soulmate, she puts herself to work as a mechanic fixing cars to stop anyone else from experiencing the same as her.

Her life is ordinary until one client walks through the door with a need for repairs.

Day 5 - Hear Each Other’s Thoughts

[None}

Day 6 - Smut or Creator’s Choice

Title: I Can Taste You In My Rage Author: spaceosshy Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Summary: Lilith returns to the Cat's Cradle in the hopes of making amends. Beatrice has some things to say.

Title: The One Time She Knew Author: JetpackingPenguin Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Summary: Five times Beatrice didn't think Ava returned her feelings and the one time she did

Day 7 - Domesticity

Title: The Teddy Bea-r Author: Lapincobra Rating: Not Rated Summary: Fanart and a little draft for Day 7 Of Avatrice week - Domesticity

[kaeemin]

OOPS! WRONG NAME!

➠ pairing: non-idol! bff!na jaemin x reader

➠ genre: fluff | friends-to-lovers | angst ??

➠ warnings: full on stupidity | jaem being the worst groom ever | chenle still being the best wingman (is this supposed to be a warning idk) | accusations of cheating | stealing | cursing | that one scene from the show friends (if yk then yk ;))

➠ wc: 2.946 words (that was unexpected)

when na jaemin said the wrong name at his own wedding.

READ PART ONE HERE!

EVERYONE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE HAPPY IN A WEDDING.

“I am happy for him.”

“Liar.”

“But I really am.”

“Nice try.”

You glared at Jeno, crossing your arms. “You can’t tell me what to feel. I’m happy. End of story.”

“Yeah, and I’m the long lost prince of Narnia.” Jeno rolled his eyes, fiddling with his tie. “Y/n, you can’t lie to me—no, in fact, you can’t lie at all. You’re the worst liar I know, other than Mark hyung.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Hey, it’s not wrong to not be happy.” His tone suddenly softened, kneeling down in front of you. Jeno’s eyes were full of pity and you hated it. You hated it because you know he’s right: you are not happy.

“It is wrong, though.” You stubbornly point out. “Jaemin’s a married man in less than 24 hours. I’m his best friend and I should be happy for him.”

“But you’re in love with him.”

You are. Deeply. Utterly. So much.

“I am,” you gulp, looking away from his dark orbs. It hurts to admit it but what else will you hide from him? Jeno already knew your secret anyway ever since you rejected him back at high school.

Jeno squeezed your hand, sighing. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re not Jaemin.”

He smiled, even chuckling a bit. You let out a small laugh too before shaking your head, squeezing his hand back. “Yeah, I’m not happy. But I want to be. Jeno, Jaemin has done so much for me, and being in his wedding means a lot. He does make me happy in general. Maybe we were really destined to be just friends.”

“Friends don’t look at each other that way, though.” Jeno softly said, tucking the hair covering your face behind your ear. Once he was satisfied fixing your hair, he stood back up and attended once again to his still not fixed tie.

“Drop it Jeno, I’m serious.” You bit your lip, checking the time. “Jaemin’s getting married, you have to accept that. I have to accept that.”

“I’m getting married.”

“You’re getting married.”

“I can’t believe I’m getting married!”

“You can’t believe you're not getting married to Y/n?”

“Y—what? No!” Jaemin turned his head at Chenle so fast that he felt blood rushing, giving him a slight headache that added to his stress. “I love Bea!”

“I never said you didn’t.” Chenle snickered, opening up the bottle of champagne. Jaemin huffed, ruffling his already messy hair. “Well, I do, okay? I love Bea. That’s why I proposed. That’s why I’m going to be standing at the altar.”

“You were just about to say yes though.”

“Then you’re hearing things. I’ll pay for your doctor after the marriage.”

Chenle scoffed this time, taking a sip of his glass of champagne before passing the whole bottle to the groom. “I have nothing against you or Bea, if you love her, then fine. But if you love her just because of Jeno and Y/n—“

“Yeah, sure. I’m in love with my fiancé because my two best friends obviously have something going on.” Jaemin sarcastically says, giving the bottle a look before taking a huge gulp. He needed it.

“You know Y/n rejected him, right?”

“I know, Le. I was literally the one who comforted Jeno five years ago.”

Chenle felt his chest tighten, staring at his friend for a long time before releasing a deep sigh. “You have to stop caring for others too much. Worry about yourself too, you idiot.”

“I didn’t push myself away because I know Jeno likes Y/n,” Jaemin slurred, cheeks tinted red from the alcohol he just chugged. He pinched the bridge of his nose, resting his elbow on his thigh. “I love Bea. I’m continuing the wedding.”

How many times has Na Jaemin done something stupid?

Good question. Even he couldn’t count.

On his wedding day, he was feeling a mixture of emotions. He really couldn’t pinpoint which is which, and that’s probably thanks to the alcohol he had consumed before the bride’s father came over to give him a goodluck.

Jaemin knows he’s supposed to be happy, like any damn man should be on their wedding day.

But he feels the worst.

Was he really having second thoughts? Oh, Jaemin felt like a jerk. How could he face his fiancé properly when there’s another woman in his mind? He felt horrible. Why were you even on his mind?

Okay, maybe he did lie.

Five years ago, when he ran through the storm to reach you and confess his undying love, when he missed the chance all because of a phone call, Jaemin had thought shoving all his feelings inside and moving on was the best he could do.

After all, he loved you, and Jeno was his friend. How could he ever do that to a friend?

“You good?” Chenle’s voice cut his thoughts off.

“Yeah.” Jaemin replied in a whisper, eyes scanning the room nervously.

“You better be. The wedding’s—let me rephrase that—your wedding’s about to start.”

Jaemin gave a tight smile, trying his best to ignore the demon by his shoulder, tempting him to leave the altar and look for you.

“Groom, ready?”

This is it.

He’s going to be a fucking-married-man.

“Yeah.”

The wedding planner nodded her head then rushed outside the church door to probably ready the flower girls, bell boys, bridesmaids, and escorts.

“There.” Chenle smiled, nodding in a direction. Jaemin followed his gaze and his stomach dropped in regret the next second.

There you are, sitting prettily in a light pink off-shoulder dress, with your hair perfectly loose and slightly curled. You weren’t wearing much make-up, he could tell, yet you still managed to outshine everyone in the room.

Jaemin’s heart skipped a beat.

You smiled widely and gave him two thumbs-up, mouthing “you got this”. And almost instantly, Jaemin felt his nerves calm down. He smiled back just as wide, nodding.

You always knew how to calm him down after all.

Music started playing, and one by one, the bridesmaids and escorts started walking down the aisle. Flower girls soon followed and then, the bride.

“Here comes the bride.”

Everyone stood up, eager and excitedly. You, however, tried your best to show you were just as enthusiastic as the others. You had a brief eye contact with Jeno on the other side of the room and he scrunched his nose up, as if to tell you everything’s going to be alright.

But it isn’t, really.

You don’t think you can handle it, even if you try. You can’t watch the man you love share his vows with another woman.

As Bea walks in slowly, her eyes staring lovingly at her groom, Jaemin starts to feel his heart palpitate again. Not because of the wedding, not because of the bride walking to him, but because he was afraid.

He was fully afraid of why he didn’t feel a thing. Don’t get him wrong, Bea looked beautiful in a white dress, but you would look more stunning. Jaemin’s scared his worst fear might be happening: he hasn’t moved on and he’s still in love with you.

“Um, Jaem?”

Jaemin stopped daydreaming and cluelessly stared back at Bea. She chuckled nervously, nudging her hand out again until he finally got the hint and shakingly took it, guiding her in front.

It felt so wrong to him, and feeling that is wrong. Especially in this situation.

“Before we start, regrets must end here right now. Is there anyone who objects to wed Na Jaemin and Ki Bea?”

You wanted to raise your hand. He wanted you to raise your hand.

“Alright then, we shall proceed.”

You wanted to leave. He wanted to leave with you.

When the vows were exchanged, Bea had gotten emotional, declaring her love while Jaemin felt like the biggest jerk alive. He almost froze when the mic was passed to him, but managed to stutter out words, telling the story of how they met and how he proposed.

Jaemin couldn’t really hear a thing. In fact, he couldn’t even stare directly in her eyes. He just felt too guilty. Maybe some of the audience noticed his odd behavior, because he was sure Chenle had caught on. The little devil always did, anyways.

“Will you, Ki Bea, take Na Jaemin as your lawfully wedded husband? Be with him through thick and thin, through sickness and in health?”

“I, Ki Bea, take thee Na Jaemin as my lawfully wedded husband. Be with him through thick and thin, through sickness and in health.”

“Will you, Na Jaemin, take Ki Bea as your lawfully wedded wife. Be with her through thick and thin, through sickness and in health?”

Jaemin took a deep breath.

He could do this. He can do this. He will do this.

“I, Na Jaemin, take thee L/N Y/N—“

Gasps erupted from the room.

You snap your head up, eyes widened. Did you hear it right? Did he just say your name?

Jaemin grew red from embarrassment, even taken back himself. What did he just fucking do?

“U-Um..”

“It’s okay, Jaem. I understand it’s a mistake. Just—just repeat it.” Bea stammered, her hold on his hand loosening. Jaemin slowly nodded, swallowing the huge lump on his throat. He awkwardly shifted his weight on his left feet, taking another deep breath.

“I, Na Jaemin, take three L/N Y/N—..”

Half of the people were already standing up on their seats. Everyone was whispering to themselves. By now, you were sure that you heard your name.

You received stares from left to right, but what mattered to you right now was the stare Jaemin gave you.

“I—you—but—ugh!” Bea tantrumed, throwing her bouquet of flowers on the ground. She pushed Jaemin’s chest roughly, nose and eyes red from tears. “I knew you were still in love with that bitch! I never liked her!”

“B-Bea, wait, I can explain.” Jaemin realized he wasn’t just the king of all jerks right now, but he was also the stupidest man standing on earth.

“Explain what? You can’t explain! Listen, Jaemin, you have to pick. Me or her?” Bea demanded, stomping her foot. Jaemin winced visibly, struggling to choose. He felt so, so, guilty that even his eyes started to sting.

“I..”

A hand on his shoulder stopped him from speaking. It was Jeno.

“What’s happening here?”

“What’s happening here!? Your friend cheated on me! That’s what’s happening. That bitch never stayed on her line. You’re mine, Na Jaemin. Mine!”

“Funny.” Jeno narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms against his chest. He smugly let out a smirk. Sensing trouble, both families—from Jaemin’s and Bea’s side—were also now in front.

“I demand an explanation, Na. I trusted you with my daughter.” Bea’s father sternly said while her mother comforted her. Jaemin opened his mouth to speak, but no words left his mouth. What else would he explain? That he was still in love with you?

“I can give you an explanation, sir.”

“You’re not the one I’m asking, boy—“

“But isn’t your daughter only using my best friend here, for your business?” Jeno glared at the older man. Jaemin looked at him confused.

“Don’t you dare try to accuse me and my family like that.”

“The Na’s are successful business owners. And your own is almost close to bankruptcy. I have proof of you trying to steal money, Mr. Ki. Don’t make the mistake of humiliating yourself in front of everyone right now.”

“What is he saying?” The mother asked, with her brows furrowed and eyes teary. “Nothing! The boy’s crazy!” The father suddenly showed fear, urging his family to leave. “Let’s go. We have no other business here.”

“But daddy!”

“Bea. Let’s go.”

Jaemin was left stunned when his ex-fiancé was dragged by her father outside the church. He coughed a little, turning to Jeno. “What the fuck was that?”

“I think the words you were looking for were ‘thank you for saving my ass, where’s y/n?’.”

“Jeno.”

“I had my suspicions, okay? Meeting Bea that day on the club was not a coincidence. And she’s really bad at acting. I had to do a quick background check to see if she’s worth it for you.”

“Jeno..”

“You’re my best friend, Jaem. All I wanted for you was to be happy. I’ll handle the guests and your family.”

Jaemin couldn’t help but shed a tear when he pulled Jeno in a tight hug, thanking him all over again and again. God, what did he do to deserve this?

“Stop thanking me, fatass. Run after her. Chenle knew Y/n needed to get out of here when everyone was whispering about her, so he led her outside to the garden.”

“Thank you!”

“Shut up!”

Jaemin laughed, wiping his tears with his thumb before running out the door, loosening his tie that was choking him for the past hour.

He’s been in love with you for so long, that even Chenle couldn’t even remember how he fell for you. No one that knew remembered, really. Only Jaemin remembered every detail very clearly.

It was by summer, when you stood up for him from a couple of bullies. You always shared your lunchbox with him, you even helped him repair his broken toy care, for goodness’s sake. And yes, it had been more than a decade, and yes, he was down bad.

So bad.

It was always you.

His love never faded, in fact, it grew stronger as he woke up and lived everyday, longing for you.

Jaemin caught a glimpse of your light pink dress by the garden’s balcony. He panted, swallowing. Five years ago, he was in the same situation, when he was too afraid to admit what he really wanted to say.

But thanks to the adrenaline from the wedding and the run he just had, his confidence was boosted.

“That was one hell of a wedding.” You broke the silence, still not facing him. Your eyes were still stuck on the flowers, but you did hear footsteps and some heavy breathing.

“Bad.” Jaemin cringed, walking closer to you and leaning beside you, staring at the flowers too.

“Oh, the worse.”

He smiled. “I’m so happy it turned out that way.”

Your throat feels dry when you turn to face him. “Why?” You croaked out after exhaling, knuckles white from how tight you were gripping the railings of the balcony.

“Saying your name up there felt right.” He was still smiling.

“Why did it feel right?”

“Because.”

“Because what?”

“Because I always dreamt of you walking down the aisle in a white dress.” And smiling.

You hit his shoulder, groaning at his answer. It wasn’t the one you wanted to hear, and he knew that.

“Na Jaemin!”

Jaemin chuckled, swatting your hand away. He scrunched his nose up, which made him identical to a bunny. “You know it’s rude hitting people.”

“Since when?” You ignored him.

“The day we met.”

“That long?” You groaned again, now covering your red face. It was the effect of Na Jaemin on you that you used to hate and grew to love.

“Yeah, that long.” He nodded, confirming.

“Why didn’t you tell me any sooner? Or did you plan waiting this long, until you’re in your own fucking wedding to tell me?”

“Touchè.” Jaemin clicked on his tongue. “I don’t know. I was a kid, I was dumb. I did try sometimes but everything failed.”

“So five years ago, when you ran through the rain and knocked on my door on a school night, did you..?”

“Yeah.”

“..did you want to tell me you were engaged?”

“Alright, that’s it.” Jaemin gives you a glare when you laugh at your own jokes. “I can’t help it! I find an opportunity and I use it. Starting from now, I’m using this day against you.”

“I’ll do the talking now.” He sighed, shaking his head when you laughed louder.

“No!”

“Y/n.”

“Imagine saying the wrong name at a wedding, that’s so fucking embarrassing I—“

“—I’m in love with you.” Jaemin cuts you off.

You stop, licking your lips and looking away. It was quiet for a few seconds.

“I know.”

“You did!?—“

“No, it’s not that,” you calmed him down, letting out a weak smile. “I didn’t know. But I did have a clue when you said my name while dedicating your wedding vows.”

“Ah.”

“Mhm.”

Jaemin cleared his throat, his shoulders slumping. The adrenaline was fully gone by now and you still weren’t responding back to his confession. His chest tightened and his eyes stung. “I..I should go.“

“I’m in love with you too.”

“Oh.”

“Jaemin,” you wince and place your hands on his chest when he leaned in. “We should probably take it slow, right? I mean, you just got out of a relationship not even an hour ago.”

“Right. That makes sense.” He frowned, keeping his hands on your waist. Jaemin caressed your skin lovingly, staring deeply in your eyes. He respects you so much that if you tell him to wait fifty years of no kissing, he’d do it without hesitating.

Waiting has always been worth it if it’s you.

One look in his eyes, you craved the temptation and grabbed his collar, tip toeing to reach his lips. Jaemin could swear he heard you say “fuck it” and he couldn’t care less. He closed his eyes, squeezing your hips before cradling your cheek to make the kiss deeper.

Fuck it.

He’s in love with you, you’re in love with him.

Jaemin walked barefooted in hell for this and he would do it all again in a heartbeat.

advice: don’t marry when ur not sure. trust me. anyways, feedback? <;3

[marmolady]

Grandchildren: Beatriz

Summary: Endless Ending timeline. Middle-aged Taylor and Estela are entering a new phase of their life together, welcoming their grandchildren into the family. In four parts; this is PART THREE.

Word Count: 3496

Tagging: @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, ​@mauvecatfic @rhemenway888

Thanks for reading!

__________________________

2060

Taylor placed down a plate of cookies on the coffee table, and sat alongside her heavily pregnant daughter.

“I know it sucks for you to not be able to fix everything,” Liv said, looking up to her mother with a grateful smile, “but don’t think your tending to my cravings isn’t appreciated.”

Liv was some seven months along, her belly huge and rounded. Heavy bags under her eyes gave away her lack of sleep, the worrying that had kept her awake long into the night. Her unborn baby, a daughter, had long passed the danger period where a miscarriage was a high risk, but she would not truly relax before the infant was in her arms. After all, the last time… the baby had been four months along, she should have been okay…. Most days Liv felt she was barely functioning, even with all the support her family, and Jeimy, could offer.

“I’ve felt so awful,” Liv admitted. “I let the blonde fade out… I’m sorry.”

“What do you mean--?” Then Taylor realised. The blonde streak Liv had always dyed into her hair… making the point of having at least a bit of her look like the mom she had no biological link to. “God, Livi, you don’t have to keep doing your hair a certain way to prove our relationship to me!”

Liv winced. “See, I know that logically, but it’s not about logic, it’s about feeling. It’s been since I was so little, it feels like I’m throwing something away… something important.” She sniffed and looked away, lost in a dark place. Was there anyone she didn’t feel she’d let down?

“You’re carrying a lot, sweetheart. Let that one go.” She tenderly stroked her daughter’s short hair. “If it makes you happy, keep in the blonde, but do it for you, not out of any fear of hurting me. I’m secure in myself, and in my role as your mom… so take that load off, all right?”

“I’m just… finding it hard. Harder than I expected, which is stupid, I should’ve known I wasn’t ready for this….”

Taylor kept stroking her fingers through Liv’s hair. There was nothing she could say that would take away the fear, or the grief that still lingered.

“Some people believe,” she said quietly, “that the soul doesn’t fully attach itself to the body until the moment of birth. If the baby’s born sleeping, the soul waits for another little life. I don’t know if it might help… to imagine a piece of Avis might be with you and Beatriz now.”

Liv’s eyes grew wide and watery. “I want her with us,” she whispered. “More than anything.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I feel… I feel guilty sometimes even just for being excited about Bea coming. And I feel guilty that I’ve got this far carrying Bea when Jeimy had to go through that loss….”

“Sweetheart,” Taylor said, clutching her daughter’s hand. “You both went through it. It’s different, but your grief is real. Jeimy loves you, and they love Bea.”

Liv wept and snuggled into her mom’s shoulder, taking comfort there until her tears slowed.

“Mom… there’s something else. I need to check you’re okay with something….”

“I’m listening.”

“Well,” Liv wiped her face, righting herself a little, so she could look her mother in the face and read her. “We’d really like to use ‘Estela’ as Bea’s middle name.”

“Beatriz Estela Montoya? That’s pretty. That’s really pretty, swetheart. You were worried I’d be hurt?”

“I know we named Andi after you, but ‘Andromeda’ isn’t your actual name….”

Taylor laughed, and kissed Liv’s head. “Is this to get out of naming a dog ‘Draco’? You silly goose, didn’t I just tell you I’m secure in what we’ve got? Bea’s name is beautiful.”

Liv breathed a little sigh of relief. “Thanks-- we really like it.”

“She’s going to be really touched.” Taylor stroked the side of Liv’s face, adoring her. She could be a worrywart, her girl, but with what life had thrown at her in recent years, Taylor couldn’t blame her. Through it all, Liv was strong and kind, giving more of herself than she probably should, but somehow retaining her joie-de-vivre, her sparkle, dulled though it was on the darkest of days. “I love you, Livi,” she said. “I love you so much.”

And she hugged her, willing herself to somehow lend strength and courage where her daughter needed it-- if only it were that simple.

“It’s going to be okay.”

_________________________

It was pointless to keep checking her phone-- the message and ring tones had been set to blaringly loud so nothing could possibly be missed-- but that didn’t stop Taylor.

“Who you talking to, Grandma?” Andi asked, peering over Taylor’s shoulder.

Taylor hastily put it beside her on the floor. “No one, no one! Promise.”

Young Sol belly-crawled along the rug towards his grandma, then put himself in her lap.

“Hey, kiddo-- don’t worry, you’ve got my attention.”

“How many hours does it take for a baby to be born? They’ve been at the hospital all day!”

“Well, it depends. Sometimes, a baby will be in a big hurry to get out and it can happen in a couple of hours. Sometimes… it could even be a couple of days.”

“Days!” the two kids said in unison. It always tickled both Taylor and Estela that the two had an almost twin-like connection, their births only two days apart and inseparable since. Andi had often said ‘we basically are twins’ and no one could convince her otherwise.

How would another child fit into this dynamic? From the early days, Andi had been fascinated by her unborn sibling, talking about her constantly, while Sol barely seemed to register that a mammoth change was afoot. Until now, with his mom and nanay in the hospital, and not coming back until they had a baby to bring home.

“But,” Taylor added quickly, “last time your mom had a baby it was only five hours after she got to the hospital that Andi was born, and usually it’s faster once the mom’s already had a baby.”

“So, baby Bea could be being born right now?” Andi asked, reaching for her grandma’s phone. “And then they’ll ring and tell us?”

“She could be. And yes, they will. We’re just going to have to be patient.”

Andi huffed out a frustrated exhale. “Being patient is so hard! I wish we knew what was happening.”

“I know, mija,” Estela said as she came into the room with a plate of cocadas-- just how her mom used to make them. “Trust me, we’re all going a little crazy waiting for news. It’s just something we’ve gotta deal with.”

A tasty treat easily placated the easy-going Sol, who hummed to himself as he chewed, still sat in Taylor’s lap. Andi, though, wolfed hers down in what felt like seconds, and went straight back to asking after her mom and nanay. It was a challenge and a half, Taylor had to admit, to entertain two five-year-olds when one was completely incapable of thinking about anything other than the imminent arrival themselves.

Estela gave her wife a look. An understanding, ‘it’s driving me crazy too’ look. An ‘I’m with you’ look.

“Solito,” Estela said, determined to be distracted from worrying, and to have the kids distracted from worrying, “go and grab some paper and pens-- we can make some ‘welcome home’ posters for baby Bea-- good practice for your writing.”

Sol jumped up immediately, almost clocking his grandma in the chin as he got to his feet as was his enthusiasm. Reading and writing was a new skill, and one he was mighty proud of. He ran off, and as was typical, Andi was not far behind him.

It was hard not to be brought back to the kids’ mom learning to read and write. Liv had started a bit earlier, keen as she’d been to keep up with the older Reggie-- with whom she was inseperable. Liv would forever play with her alphabet fridge magnets; she took them with her from La Huerta, to San Trobida, to the States. Estela didn’t have any regrets about that rather fast-changing period in her daughter’s life… they’d given what stability they could, but it had never been possible to have a single true ‘home’. For these kids, though, home was San Trobida, a vastly different place to that the young Liv had known, and for Estela, it was barely recognisable as the war-torn country she grew up in. For baby Beatriz as well, the civil war and the horrors that came with it would just be a story told by her abuela, and a history lesson as she went through her schooling, as distant and irrelevent as the 2020 pandemic and dial-up internet.

Good for her.

Then Estela perched herself on the edge of the couch, only half-relaxing, for she could need to spring to action at a moment’s notice.

As if it had been waiting for the kids to leave the room, Estela’s phone rang, and she was up on her feet in an instant.

“Jeimy?” she asked too loudly. You’re gonna have to calm down…. She put the phone on speaker, though Taylor was right up by her ear so it probably wasn’t even necessary.

“She’s here-- they’re both doing great!” Jeimy cried down the phone, almost garbled in their excitement.

“The baby’s here? The baby--” Of course, the baby. Estela just laughed as relief and flooded her body. “Congratulations, Lorito,” she managed to get out. “Oh my god….”

“Pretty much what I said!” Jeimy laughed, ecstatic. “Beatriz is here, and she’s just divine.”

“Oh, Jeimy,” Taylor said, “you know it’s torture I can’t send you a hug down the phone, right?”

But even with the distance she could feel the happiness that radiated forth, and knew the same would be received. Then, the inevitable happened, and Taylor had to contend with tears streaming down her face. Her baby’s baby was here-- there was no way she wasn’t crying.

“H-how was it? Quicker than last time at least.”

“Everything went smoothly; I almost can’t believe it. It’s like… it’s like all the tension’s gone now… the scariest part is over. Liv’s feeling a bit wrecked for talking right now, but she’s happy. So, so happy.”

“Can we… can we tell the kids?”

Jeimy laughed, giddy. “Yeah, go ahead! We’ll get you to bring them down to the hospital soon-- we can’t wait to see them, just want to make sure Livi rests a little first.”

“Just… enjoy the peace and quiet with your little baby, okay?”

“And kisses for everyone from us, all right, mijo?”

“I’ll see to it-- I’ll see to it. You’ll give the kids a big squeeze from us as well! Love you-- love you-- bye!”

Estela hung up the phone and squealed, pulling a laughing Taylor into her arms for the tightest of hugs.

“We’ve got another granddaughter!” Taylor wept.

________________________

Liv’s eyelids were heavy as she watched the babe’s chest rise and fall. Their little Beatriz had made it earthside. There was no doubt in Liv’s mind; there would be no more babies for her and Jeimy. She couldn’t handle the rollercoaster. It would be her, and Jeimy, and Andi and Sol, and Beatriz… and that was all she’d ever need.

Safe and swaddled in her crib, an arm’s reach away from her exhausted mother, Beatriz had drifted off easily. Even bruised and swollen from the delivery, there was so much character in her little face.

“She looks like Sol did,” Liv whispered. “Not quite as much hair.”

At Liv’s other side, Jeimy was serene, sat up against their pillow. “I feel like I’ve been holding my breath for nine months,” they admitted. “It’s nice to breathe again.”

“I know the feeling,” Liv said. “At this point I’ll welcome the sleepless nights with open arms-- I’m just so relieved to have her here.”

Jeimy scooched closer and stroked Liv’s face. “How are you feeling? Physically, I mean.”

Liv looked up at them with a loving smile. “Very sore, very tired.”

Worth it, she thought, and she turned back to once again admire the little life she’d brought into the world. Oh my god, you are worth it.

____________________________

“Surely, no parent of a newborn in history has ever thought ‘oh, let’s have a party-- I could use some further disruption of my sleep patterns!” Aleister proclaimed. “And yet,” he added, “here we are.”

“I think ‘party’ is a strong word,” Taylor said. “Just a little get-together; good company, barbecue, and some fruit punch.”

Jeimy came over and hugged their uncle-in-law, welcoming him into the backyard, set up with lights and tables. “We’re not completely crazy; doing this at home means Liv and I can bolt upstairs with the baby and hide away at the drop of a hat. And if anyone was gonna disturb us, Mama ‘Stel would sort them out. Besides-- we’re not entertaining or anything, hence having everyone bring a plate and do their own dishes. Surrounding ourselves with love, but with as little of the hassle as possible.”

Aleister chuckled. “I can’t say I don’t still think you’re quite mad but… I see some of the appeal.”

Jeimy met his eye. “It means a lot Reggie coming home for us. I can’t say how much Liv’s missed him.”

“However all-singing-and-dancing the technology may get, it’s never the same as in person, is it? I hope it does Liv good,” he said sincerely. Aleister had been close to Liv all her life, for she and his own child Reggie had been something of a dynamic duo since before either could remember. She was his niece and he loved her, and through her mental health struggles he’d wished he could do more. It had been easier to be there for Estela, knowing that his support had helped her to be there for Liv. Reggie, he knew, was the healing balm that old Uncle Al could never be.

Thankfully, in the minds of the two parents of the new baby, the gathering had been able to be kept small and quiet-- certainly by the standards set by their ever-growing extended family. Naturally, Estela and Taylor were there, and Rosa with toddler Leo. Diego had made the trip from La Huerta a week prior, an additional support for Liv and Jeimy. Sean and Jake’s son Michael, proud donor uncle to baby Beatriz, as well as Liv’s older two children and Rosa’s unborn baby, was along for the fun; he’d taken up position as Chief of Fun and was keeping Andi and Sol out from their exhausted parents’ feet. His fiance and Michelle and Quinn’s youngest, Conor, was there to offer him assistance with the kids. Reggie was the guest of honour, the reason this whole thing was even happening-- and his sisters with their respective families, and Aleister and Grace rounded out the guestlist.

The back door swung open.

“Here she is!” Liv cried, stepping out with, cradled in her arms, a tiny bundle of baby in a puffy floral dress and a great big bow.

Michael turned to Jeimy and laughed. “What happened to the ‘gender neutral’ thing you were doing?”

“Hey. Flowers are for any and all genders.” Jeimy rolled their eyes teasingly. “Anyway, we gave up with the unisex name-- Spanish names are so damn gendered-- so thought ‘screw it, just put her in dresses if we like them’.”

“She looks cute,” Michael said, “but she’s gonna have to grow into that bow.” He held out his arms. “Cuddle with Uncle Michael?”

Liv chuckled, and carefully passed over the baby. As little Beatriz was placed in his arms, Michael absolutely beamed. There was no doubt he’d be as besotted over this kid as he was Andi and Sol.

“Damn, she’s cute!” he exclaimed. “You people are making me want a baby so bad. I’m pretty lucky to be a ‘donor uncle’ in the meantime, hey?”

“And we really appreciate it,” Liv was quick to say. Michael had basically given her the family she loved so much, and there were simply no words for what that meant. What was more, he’d given Liv’s Mama Taylor a genetic tie to her grandchildren-- a sort of link she’d once only dreamed of. Their family was unconventional, but in Liv’s eyes, it was all the more wonderful for what had been overcome to bring them to this moment, together. “It’s gonna be a pretty good excuse to get out to La Huerta regularly once Rosa’s bub’s here. We may have to tag along now and then-- I’m not having you usurp my position as ‘coolest visiting relative’.”

“I hate to break it to you, Liv,” Michael said, shaking his head in feigned sorrow, “but Jeimy sings, plays guitar, and has a talking parrot. You’ve never had the top spot to begin with.”

“Dude-- I can take my baby back---”

“Geez, touchy much! At least I know when I’m beat.”

“Just enjoy that cuddle, I’m pretty sure madam’s gonna be in high demand this evening.”

Content that her baby was in good hands, Liv felt comfortable enough to move a few feet away to check up on her older two. They’d blown her away with how they’d taken the new arrival in their stride; Sol was easy-going as usual, but Andi she’d been more concerned about, demanding as she was for fun and attention that simply was not in as high supply these days. But Andi doted on her baby sister, and was forever clamouring to be involved and help out. Now, the twosome had apparently roped Uncle Conor into a game of horsey-ride, with Andi was putting her newfound maternal side to use in steadying two-year-old Leonel with her hand as he had his turn, and Sol ripping up handfuls of grass to feed their new ‘pet’. Liv took an exhale and relaxed. Her little family was surrounded by love.

Then she turned, and there was the face she’d been desperately yearning to see.

“Reggie!”

“I told you, I’d be here, I’m not sure what all the fuss is abo--”

Liv flung her arms around her cousin, her best friend, and squeezed him with all her might.

“Steady on! You always have to be over-the-top about everything, don’t you,” he grumbled good-naturedly, but he kissed her the top of her head as she cried against his chest. He hugged her back, and gave a trembling exhale. “Now that I have you in person; congratulations.”

Liv came away to rub her teary eyes with the back of a hand. “I knew you were coming and everything, ‘m just a bit hormonal for this!”

She put her hands on her hips and took a few deep breaths, righting herself, then looked up at Reggie with a massive grin. He’d been with her through it all… both their spouses had been pregnant at the time, but she and Jeimy had lost their Avis, while Reggie and Mariama had brought home their healthy and bright Olivette-- named in tribute to their bond. Even struggling with parenting a newborn as well as his other two kids, Reggie had always found time for his old cousin, and it was a rare week that would pass without a call between London and San Trobida.

“How have you been?” he asked, “And don’t give me sass because I know childbirth can be godawful….”

“You really think I’d sass you?”

“Sure as bloody hell you would…. But are you doing all right? Other than obviously being touched in the head to have a blasted party of all things so soon after bringing a baby home. I just… I’d like to know you’re doing well.”

“We’re adjusting to the new normal,” she told him. “I’m adjusting… slowly but surely. And there’s grief that’s coming up, but I expected that. Mostly… I’m caught up in loving my baby girl, and so, so damn thankful that she’s here.” She grinned. It was as though she couldn’t think about her little Beatriz without doing so. “Do you wanna meet Bea? She’s having a cuddle with Uncle Michael right now.”

Reggie’s eyes lit up. “I did come all this way, I won’t not say ‘hi’. Actually, I may have promised Sammy and Ange that I send a few photographs-- it’s almost as though the need proof I’m actually here and taking meeting the new little cousin seriously.”

Liv laughed. “I’m sure we can manage that!” She took him by the elbow. “Come on-- you flew all the way from London, you get to skip the cuddle queue.”

And she took him to get acquainted with the baby, beaming as she walked him through a backyard filled with the smiling faces of the people she loved so much-- all there for her. Soon, they’d gather together, and raise a glass; to family, to good times, and to Beatriz Estela Montoya.

[planetpedri]

No surprises 𖦹 Pedri González !

summary. pedri felt drained, his job sucking the life out of him with every loss —but you, his god given solace, was always there to give him a quiet, loving break.

word count. 1.09k

disclaimers. angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, and happy ending.

bea speaks! fcb when i catch you...

The ride home from the stadium was silent. The hum of the engine and the occasional buzz from either of your phones were the only sounds filling the between you and Pedri. He hadn’t spoken a singular word since you’d left, since the realization that, once again, his efforts had not been enough.

You glance at him, his profile illuminated by the passing street lamps. His eyebrows were furrowed and his lips pulled into a thin line. He wasn’t hiding his disappointment, his sunken eyes and tight face only showcasing his exhaustion more. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles growing white.

“Pedri..” you say softly, reaching over to rest your hand on his arm.

He flinches at your touch, but doesn’t pull away. “Not now, cariño.” Pedri murmurs, his voice hoarse.

Leaning back against the seat, you chew on your bottom lip. You wanted to say something, anything, to pull him out of this spiral you knew he was going down—but you knew better. Pedri’s silence was his own way of holding himself together, insuring he wouldn’t break the moment he let himself express his hurt.

This wasn’t even the first time you’d seen him like this. Losing wan’t foreign to Barcelona. Not to mention the string of loses this season alone and the endless criticism from the fans and media. He bore the crushing weight of carrying the team that seemed to feel more broken with every match since October. But now, it was wearing him down completely.

When he finally pulled into the driveway of your shared home, Pedri parked, sitting motionless in his seat. He eventually dropped his hands into his lap after shutting off the car, exhaling a shaky breath and your heart broke at the sound.

“Lets go inside.” You urge quietly, voice barely above a whisper.

Silently, Pedri nodded, his movements slow and heavy as he walked beside to you into the house. Once inside, he found the couch, instantly slumping into it and burying his face into his hands.

Eyes softening, you kneel in front of him, prying his hands away. The sight in front of you would’ve made even the strongest man weep. His eyes were glossy, his lashes wet with unshed tears. “Pedri,” you whisper, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead, “talk to me, please?”

The dark haired man shook his head, jaw tightening. “What is there to say? Another loss, another fucking failure.”

“You’re not a failure,” you say firmly, eyebrows knitting together.

He lets out a bitter laugh at your words, sending a course of pain through your heart. “Tell that to everyone else. To the fans. To the team, who, by the way, can’t seem to keep it together. Oh, and to the club who expects everything from me.”

Frowning, you cup his face, making him look directly at you. His eyes search yours, desperate and pleading. “You are human, you are allowed to feel this way, but you are not allowed to believe that you are not enough. You are. These loses? They are not on you. They happen, and you can come back from them. You are not the only player on the team, this isn’t your fault.”

He lets out a ragged breath, leaning into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “I’m tired.” He admits, his voice breaking. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take. It feels like everything—the team and all, it’s falling apart and I just don’t know how to fix it.”

You are quiet for a second, eyes flickering around his face. He looked dejected, taking all the blame and stuffing it into himself and it is suffocating him.

“You don’t have to fix it alone. You have a team, Pedri. And you also have me. Let me help you carry this, let me be here for you.” Your thumbs graze his cheekbones, like the touch alone could press the words into his brain, forcing him to let it go, and let you in.

Your boyfriends eyes close slowly, a singular tear finally escaping his eyes. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, his voice broken and weary.

Shaking your head, you press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “You deserve everything in the world, baby. And I will always be here to remind you of that.”

For a while, neither of you spoke. His head fell to rest on your shoulder, and you held him like that, hoping the small moment would ground him. And it did, Pedri felt himself calming down. His breaths evened out and his shoulders relaxed.

Inhaling your scent, feeling your soft breaths against him, the way your hand slowly rubbed up and down his back—it made him feel okay for the first time since the loss.

“I scored tonight,” he sighed after the long silence, his voice an octave above a whisper. Despite the achievement, a lingering sense of disappointment was still in his voice.

“I know,” you hum, running your hand up his back to rest on the nape of his neck. “I was a beautiful goal.”

“But it doesn’t matter.”

You could groan.

“Doesn’t matter? It mattered to me.” Your lips form a tight frown. He was so hard on himself. Beating himself up over things that he should be proud of.

“Pedri, you got the man of the match. You were incredible, you always are. You scored a goal and gave your team hope. Sure, you lost. But, you still were amazing and you deserve to feel the pride from it.” Your words felt weak in comparison to how badly you wanted to comfort him, to assure him—but for Pedri, it meant everything.

He looked back to you then, his eyes softening. His heart felt warm, your touch was still warm, you were always the one there for him—comforting him. He loved you for it.

The burdening weight on his chest seemed to finally lift, if only slightly. “Thank you,” he murmured, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair from your face. “I love you.”

A smile lifts on your lips and your forehead rests against his. “Of course, and I love you.”

As the night wore on, and you were finally in bed together, you were his grounding point. The weight of your head on his shoulder, your legs tangled in his and your arms wrapped around him, it kept him comforted. In the quiet of the bedroom, you were his solace, always.

likes, comments, and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future pedri posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @lechrts @joaoflms @sakashq @h4vertzz @spidybaby @gadriezmannsgirl @unx100to @st4rgirl-ellie @cececarmona17

[foxedthecards]

"Echoes of the past"

The first time Jonas got drunk he'd just turned eleven years old.

He really didn't remember the specifics of the occasion although with it being close around his birthday, it stood to reason that it was a holiday soiree of some kind with relatives and friends. His mother had gotten the brilliant idea of dressing him up in a little suit and tie and putting him at the wet bar serving drinks for guests. He got many compliments about what a cute little bartender he was and it was relatively low pressure: the drinks were already there for him to give to whoever came up to the counter, all he had to do was give them a big bright fake smile and hand them a glass of wine or champagne or a tumbler with a festive holiday cocktail in it.

It had been going fine until That happened.

" ...ahaha I dunno I don't trus' a bartend'r that won' drink his own drinks! " Some obnoxious older relative, whoever he was: uncle, cousin or what have you, decided to be funny and stuck a glass of dark red wine in Jonas's face. " C'mon boy drink up! "

" Ohhh Will, shushhh, he's a child. I'm so sorry, Bea, let me get him over to the couch..." This had been addressed to Jonas's mother who had just happened to sweep by to check and see if the drinks needed to be replenished.

" Ahhhhh m'fine! I was younger'n him when I had m'firs' drink. Go on boy, it'll make y'taller. Put hair on y'r chest! "

Jonas's mother, with her fixed smile cut her beautiful eyes over at her son being offered the drink.

" Ohhhh Will's right ahaha. A glass or two won't hurt! Go ahead Jonas, baby, drink the nice glass, make him happy..."

Jonas stared at the glass being offered to him. He stared up at his mother. His mouth thinned.

" Jonas..." An edge had crept in her voice though the smile remained. " Did you hear what Mommy said? Take the nice drink and stop being silly. It's just like grape juice, sweetheart! "

Jonas, the sacrificial lamb to his mother's social ambitions reached out, took the glass offered to him and downed it hastily. It tasted sickly sweet in his mouth, like rotten grapes, the alcoholic fumes invading his sinuses. He choked and sputtered a bit but he drank the whole glass.

" Therrrr y'go, boy! Now y'r a prop'r man! " He got a congratulatory slap on the back and an approving smile from his mother.

In the space of another hour, he'd be convinced to try a flute of champagne. Then after that one of the cocktails, all under the subtle persuasion of his domineering mother. He'd not been able to finish the cocktail, the liquor in it burned the back of his throat. His mother had been nearby chatting lightly away to another cluster of relatives as he climbed unsteadily off of his stool behind the counter and stumbled out.

His head felt woozy, his vision had doubled, his arms and legs felt loose and disconnected from the rest of him. The lights were too bright, the festive music sounded as though he had his head underwater. He wasn't exactly sure where he wanted to go, though he had a vague idea of heading out to the patio. He bumped into someone and grabbed onto their fancy dress, trying to keep himself from falling over.

" Oh! " said a surprised older woman's voice. " Oh you're...oh you're Bea's little boy! Goodness. Are you alright? "

He looked up, blinking his brown eyes in tipsy confusion. Then without warning he threw up all over her.

Things became a bit of a blur after that. He somehow ended up in the bathroom with his head in the toliet, puking his guts out and feeling miserable with his mother hissing and sputtering at him, how HOW could he embarrass her like that and all over Great Aunt Dottie's expensive Emporio Armani shoes, honestly, HONESTLY? She'd never live this down! Why hadn't Jonas been thinking about Mommy's feelings for God's sake! She'd never get him in Aunt Dottie's will now, ugh! And he'd absolutely ruined his nice little outfit she dressed him in!

" I-I'm s-sorrRRULP! " He couldn't even get a decent apology out.

" You'll just have to stay in here until the party's done I suppose. Honestly, Jonas! You weren't thinking at ALL. Mommy can't trust you to do anything right, silly boy. Well, I still love you even if you did nearly ruin Mommy's nice party. "

Jonas got a little pat on his head and a long-suffering sigh. " You REALLY shouldn't have tried those drinks, what WERE you thinking? I know you were curious but they're not juice, sweetheart! You should learn to say no, tch..."

Already she was putting her own spin on what had happened, twisting the facts to leave her reputation flawless and her involvement non-existent. In her mind she was not at fault! Oh she NEVER was.

In a bit she'd sauntered out of the bathroom to attempt to smooth things over back at the party, leaving poor Jonas lying down on the bathroom rug, head spinning and severely nauseated, convinced that everything that had happened was in fact his fault and his alone. He really should have been more considerate of his mother...

His first experience with alcohol had been miserable and humiliating. Unfortunately it wouldn't be his last one...

[smokestarrules]

41 ghost/living person au ava x beatrice

[AO3 Link]

...

Beatrice waking up is one of the most beautiful things Ava’s ever seen in her life. 

She’s always thought this—privately at first, in an attempt to not bother her with the levels of Ava’s adoration and then overtly, later, when she learned that Beatrice wouldn’t get it either way—and it’s never been more clear to her before now. As a rule, Beatrice is almost never relaxed, but she can’t help it when she sleeps. 

Ava lets herself stare without fear. Beatrice has always had a way of drawing her attention—look at me, Ava had thought even in those early days, living anew and burning with a desire to know and to be known, look at me—and here’s the thing: Beatrice has always been a creature of habit (pun totally intended). She wakes up at six in the morning every day, no matter what; her alarm blares, but Ava’d bet that even if it didn’t go off she’d still get up right on time anyway. Her alarm blares, she sits up. Rubs her eyes once, twice, and then swings herself out of bed. 

Just like that. 

She opens one of the curtains just a sliver and allows the rising sun to shine inside the small room, turning the room from a dim gray to something far nicer, tinging the pillows a soft orange that, in turn, flickers across Beatrice’s hair, caressing her in such a way that makes Ava’s fingers itch, eager to touch. 

Her highlights are growing out, have nearly been swallowed by natural dark locks, but it hadn't been the blonde that made Ava fall for her (though it hadn’t hurt). She’s stunning even now, especially now—will always be, probably. 

Beatrice makes sunlight look damn-near dreary, and Ava’s mouth dries as she watches. 

“You’re so pretty, Bea,” she croaks, unable to keep it all inside. Now there’s no reason to. 

“You try to keep yourself hidden from the entire world,” Ava goes on, rocking back on the bed. She watches as Beatrice putters silently around the room, blinking the sleep from her eyes. “And you did, really—you did such a good job of that. But you’re so gorgeous, like, holy fuck. I’ve never seen eyes like yours. You should wear your hair down more often, but your bun looks good, too. Bea, do you want me to talk about your freckles again?”

Beatrice doesn’t respond to her, of course. She never does. 

Not that Ava can blame her, really. 

(Ava’d found out pretty quickly that Beatrice couldn’t see her. Couldn’t hear her, feel her. Couldn’t perceive her in any way.

No one could. 

She got over it pretty quickly—if you count having a couple panic attacks getting over it—and she’s mostly okay now. By the time she’d appeared here, in the middle of Beatrice’s bedroom as she was sleeping, it’d already been four days since she went through the Ark. She doesn’t know why she’s like this, doesn’t know if she’d ever ended up meeting Reya; she doesn’t even have any memory of being healed, though she must have been. Unless she’s dead, and this is, like, some weird sort of limbo. 

But she’s died before, and it wasn’t like this.) 

All in all, she thinks, delighting in the casual ripple of shoulder muscles from beneath Beatrice’s shirt, this is a way better deal than last time. 

She doesn’t watch Beatrice change, of course. She has some shame. But she takes what she can get; it’s the little things, the way Beatrice walks around in the (supposed) privacy of her own room with a short-sleeved shirt on. She’ll always pull on an extra layer before she leaves, Ava’s learned, but the flex of her biceps even for this limited time is nothing short of holy. 

Once Beatrice is properly dressed, her bun fixed—though it hadn’t been mussed in the first place—her boots tightly laced, she heads out of her room, into the long hallways of Cat’s Cradle.

Ava smiles, bounces on her feet, and follows her out the door. 

(As far as Ava knows, the Halo’s very much fine and still in her back. She can feel it at times, though it never goes off quite as powerfully as she remembers. She can still phase—though there’s really no point to it anymore—she can still fly, can still heal—which was an absolute bitch to test, by the way—and maybe this all points to her not being dead, but in the end, it doesn’t really matter.)

Because she’s a creature of habit (it doesn’t get any less funny), Beatrice stops by the dining hall first. Breakfast is essential, she’d said in Switzerland, and Ava’s never one to turn down any food. She’d always enjoy those lazy mornings—though lazy is never something she could call Beatrice—and the early meals with her. 

It’d be nice to eat again. She misses food more than she misses a lot of things. Well—that’s not really true. She misses a lot of things, really; food, the need to sleep, talking with Camila, the way Beatrice would touch her shoulder when she was being just the slightest bit annoying. 

“I love you,” she says while Beatrice eats, because it’s all she can do. “I miss you. Thank you for being here. I’m sorry for stalking you, heh, but I feel like you’d be okay with it. I love you.”

I love you. I love you. I love you. 

After breakfast, Beatrice heads out to the training grounds. She doesn’t have all that much to do in Cat’s Cradle nowadays, and Ava’s seen her duties lessen and lessen over the days, from performing most of the new recruits’ training to now just overseeing it. She thinks, sometimes, that Beatrice will snap one day and just leave this all behind. She kind of hopes she will. 

It’s weird—complicated, really. She wants Beatrice to live so badly, to discover who she is without the towering, suffocating walls of the OCS boxing her in. That’s always what Ava’s wanted for her. 

But she desperately doesn’t want Beatrice to be alone. 

At least she’s not alone here, is the thing. Ava would follow her anywhere, but Beatrice wouldn’t know it. At least here she still has a few—has Camila, has Mother Superion, has Dora, even, who’s not very close but who’s here. 

(And Ava’s seen her grieve, too; those are always the worst nights. Beatrice grieves her so plainly that sometimes Ava wishes she’d just be forgotten entirely, if only to spare her the pain.

She never wishes that for very long. She’s selfish like that.)

“Bea?”

After training—during which Beatrice stood and watched the recruits and Ava sat and watched her—Camila finds her in the hallway, a sad smile already forming on her face. 

“Camila,” Beatrice says. She always sounds so tired when she speaks, now, and Ava’s heart clenches in her chest. I love you, she thinks, desperate for Beatrice to hear. “Did you need anything?”

“No, it’s not that.” Camila looks a bit skittish. “I just wanted to give you something.” She holds something out—something that Ava can’t see—and Beatrice inhales steadily. Too steadily. Ava wonders if Camila notices or not. “It took a little while to shape it, but it’s yours.”

Ava comes closer, unable to bite back the curiosity. She doesn’t like being too close, now, doesn’t like the way her skin slides through everyone else’s without even trying, but she can’t help it. Sometimes there’s a pull she just can’t fight. Beatrice is still staring at whatever it is, doing her keep-calm breaths. 

Ah. Ava understands the moment she spots the thing in Camila’s hand. A piece of Divinium—nearly black, with how dull it is—attached to a simple cord and clasp. A necklace. 

“For you,” Camila says finally, placing the stone in Beatrice’s hand. “So that you’ll know.” 

Beatrice doesn’t say a word when she takes it from her, cradling the piece of Divinium between her fingers as if it’s liable to bite her. She doesn’t react, really, just closes her fist around it and meets Camila’s eyes with a look that Ava can’t see from her angle. 

Whatever it is Camila seems to understand, and without another word spoken, Beatrice turns heads back to her room. Ava follows after her, because what else can she do? “I love you,” she says as they walk. “Even if you don’t know it, I’m here. I love you.” 

She hopes Beatrice doesn’t cry. That’s the worst of it, not being able to comfort her. She doesn’t often cry, but that only makes it that much more gut-wrenching when she does.

Beatrice doesn’t cry, but she does spend a few minutes sitting and staring down at the necklace. She doesn’t say anything aloud, but it’s in the way her hands twitch, how her leg jumps up and down on the bed. Time passes slowly, and Ava watches from the corner. 

“I love you,” Ava says, chin trembling because she can’t not say it, because there’s not much more for her to do these days than just tell Beatrice how much she means to her in the hopes that one day she’ll understand. There are tears forming in her eyes and she doesn’t even care because it’s not like there’s anyone here to notice it, anyway. “I love you so much. I wish I could talk to you right now. I miss you, but I’m glad it’s me rather than you. I love you.”

I love you, she says, right as Beatrice slips the necklace over her head. 

And that’s when she swears Beatrice looks directly at her. Beatrice’s eyes go dark and desperate, and Ava thinks that she is going to cry, actually, when she realizes that the Divinium hanging high on her chest is no longer dull and dark, that Beatrice’s face is flecked with shining blue. Beatrice stares through her, mouth dropping open. 

Ava’s heart jumps with the thought of danger. If Beatrice is attacked here, when Ava can’t do anything—

She spins around, but there’s nothing there. 

And that’s when Ava realizes, half a second before it becomes obvious. Realizes because she knows Beatrice, has known her long before she was cursed to follow her around forever. She turns back around, meets her gaze—look at me, she’s always thought, look at me—and stares. 

Because Beatrice isn’t looking at something behind her, or above. Beatrice is looking at her. 

“Ava?”