#i'm running around i'm running and being cool

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty-two —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 5.2k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn’t here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: I'm sorry lmaooo nine months... hopefully we can finish this thing!

B

"Hold him close to your chest, or he'll jump out of your arms. Here—like this."

Blue gently cradles the rabbit, then carefully tucks him into Ari's arms, guiding his hands to scoop under Grim's fluffy rear. She can't help but find it amusing that the boy who had taken her riding on such a large animal yesterday looks so wary holding a harmless bunny. A giggle bubbles up, and she bites her lip to keep it in.

"He's so... squirmy."

Blue keeps her hand on Grim, reassuring both the rabbit and him. "He's just ready for his breakfast. Want to help me feed him?"

"Sure."

Blue leads Ari to the hutch where the other rabbits are. She explains her morning routine, showing him how to supply the rabbits with enough grass, leaves, and berries to keep them healthy and plump. Not long ago, she was explaining this to Twix—the very person she forgot to say good morning to in a rush to find Ari outside. This time around, she wonders if Ari is genuinely interested or just being polite. She finds herself stealing glances at his face, studying his expressions perhaps longer than she should. His almond-shaped eyes and dark pink lips catch her attention.

He's cute.

It's not the first time the thought has crossed her mind since these strangers appeared. Cute like the men in her magazines, though he's not quite a man. Not in the way Ghost is. But he's taller than her by a head and two years older, evident in the notch on his throat and the deeper timbre of his voice.

But it doesn't matter. They are only here for a few days.

Blue closes the hutch and rocks on the soles of her boots. "Well, that was probably boring, huh? We could, um, go hunting if you want. Or to the pond. It's fun to swim there. Or maybe—" She pauses, mentally sifting through the limited activities available, frustration creeping in as none of them seem particularly impressive.

"This wasn't boring. Now I know rabbits are just as friendly as horses." He smiles.

"They are... except when Grim gets mad. Then he can be a bit of a jerk. Like if you accidentally step on his tail."

"I'd be pretty pissed if someone stepped on my tail, too."

"You don't have a tail."

"It's just a joke."

"Oh..." she fidgets with a strand of hair. "Right."

"The pond sounds good. It is fucking hot." Ari blows out a breath and swipes at the back of his neck.

"I know. So hot. Hot as balls."

Ari raises an amused brow. "Yeah, uh, hot as balls. Are you allowed to go by yourself, or do we need to ask your dad?"

"I get to do what I want," she lies easily with a shrug. "Buuuuut, we can ask Twix to go with us."

As long as Twix is with her, she suspects she can get away with not asking Ghost, who luckily is hunting with his old captain. It's not that he seems distrusting with these people as he did those first few months with Twix. Rather—she isn't thrilled about him knowing every little thing she does. She's never had anything just to herself. 

Twix is sitting on the porch, looking rather deep in thought as she skins a squirrel. Her hair is long, curtaining her face. When Blue asks if she wants to go to the pond, she agrees easily, claiming she has been meaning to cut her hair anyway with the encroaching warmth of summer. Nereida joins, too. 

Even early, the air is sticky, and the pond is cool and inviting. Ari rips his shirt off and jumps in without even a second to waste. Blue usually swims in her underwear and shirt, but she hesitates with her thumb in the belt loops of her jeans. She didn't consider that he would see her in her underwear. 

A soft touch to her shoulder. It's Twix. "Want me to grab you shorts real quick?"

"Um... yes. Yes please."

She changes into the shorts behind a tree. There is an odd pit in her stomach when she gets in the water. She doesn't quite know what it is, but it's similar to how she feels when she's scared sometimes. Ghost always tells her fear is a useless thing. It doesn't keep you alive. So she ignores it, shoves it down deep, and swims over to Ari with a purposeful splash that even wets Twix, who sits at the edge sharpening her knife.

"Damn. That's gonna cost you."

A splash is given in return, and then they are playing. High noon bounces shimmering light off the water as she tries to keep up with him, but at one point he sneaks up on her and she ends up with a mouthful. Nereida spends her time picking at some bunches of rosemary and Twix cuts her hair. But Blue doesn't notice any of that too much. When the water stills and they pause to catch their breath, Ari climbs onto a rock and shakes out his wet hair. She is quick to find a perch beside him. Absentmindedly, she pinches the bottom of her wet shirt to keep it from sticking to her chest.

"It's nice to have some place to swim so close by. Back at our old camp, there was lake but it was a few miles away, so my mom rarely let me go."

"I'm sorry, you know. About your mom. Mine is dead, too."

He half-smiles. "Thanks. I don't think about it too much anymore. My uncle and I have always been close so it helped to have him there." He nudges her shoulder. "You're damn lucky to have such a cool dad, huh?"

"Ghost?"

"Yeah, that guy is a beast. My uncle says they called him Ghost because no one could ever see him coming before suddenly, they were dead." 

"Oh, yeah, he is super cool," she quickly agrees. "He has taught me a lot."

"Shit, really?"

Nibbling the inside of her cheek, she shrugs to feign indifference. "I know how to throw knives pretty well."

"I gotta see that." His smirk etches a light dimple into his cheek. Then, his eyes flash behind her. "So what's up with his girlfriend?"

"Huh?" A divot forms between her brows before she follows his gaze, landing on Twix, whose hair is now just past her shoulders. She is wetting it, running her fingers through the newly cut strands. "Oh—Twix. That is not his girlfriend. She is my friend."

"You mean they don't sleep together?"

"Like in the same bed?"

"That's usually where people fuck, yeah."

He seems ready to laugh. She frowns, head tilting as confusion hums in her chest. "You mean like sex?"

He nods. "You know what that is, right?"

"Yeah, of course. I know all about it."

"You know they're probably doing it, right?"

"Ghost and Twix? No—no," she forces a laugh. "I mean, sometimes I catch him staring at her all weird. But I don't think—I mean, they hardly like each other and she is my friend, really, not his. He used to make me stay away from her, even. But I mean, they do spend a lot of time together now. It's usually to practice fighting and defense. Not to have...sex."

"Don't they share a room?"

"Just right now, because you guys are here."

Ari chuckles. "You really think they aren't fucking in there? She's really pretty. There's no way they aren't."

Blue looks back at Twix. Blue's fingers curl into the soaked fabric of her top. Her eyes flick back to him. "She would've told me if they were."

"If you say so."

---

T

Your thumb throbs in rhythm with the steady pump of Kyle's arms. Despite pressing it into your palm to dull the pain, the ache persists. You had nicked it while sawing off your hair, and now the taste of blood lingers in your mouth. You were still lapping at the painful pulse when the three men arrived to the pond, carrying a neon orange inflatable raft. They want to test it out on the water before embarking on the 35-kilometer journey across the channel. 

It is the third day of their presence and you can honestly say you've grown more comfortable, given that Kyle has gone hunting with you a few times now. He is easy to talk to, along with Nereida. Price—however—doesn't seem intrigued by you, or maybe you are insignificant in comparison to the rest that is on his mind. That's fair. You don't all need to be friends.

They've been spending most of their time gathering food. Ghost has been helping Price hunt deer to skin and dry into jerky they can take with them. Nereida showed you a patch of wild strawberries she found yesterday, boiling them down into jams before canning them. By having food with them, they will save time from having to hunt along the way. In perfect conditions, it would be a straight path, and they could make it to the Swiss mountains within a month or two. But it won't be a straight path, and obstacles are bound to hinder them.

Kyle audibly growls and straightens, wiping at his percolated brow. "This chamber just isn't inflating."

"It must have a hole somewhere. Check the seams," Price says.

Ghost flips the half-filled raft over with ease, running his fingers along the PVC. "Here." He taps what must be a minuscule puncture because you can't see it from where you sit. 

They patch it up with the little adhesive they have. The unease is noticeable as Kyle keeps pumping in air; they only have enough to cover a few holes, if they come across more. Finally, the six-person raft is full and they toss it onto the pond. Just the sight gets you thinking of all the variables they have to think of on the open water: the weather, currents, temperature. You had a friend in high school who swam across it once. She didn't get even halfway but having to pulled out, vomiting, and near-hypothermia. Open seawater is different than a pool. Unpredictable and quick to change.

"It seems sturdy." Nereida winds an arm around her husband's waist, pressing a chaste kiss to the underside of his jaw. "Don't worry about it."

"As long as it stays sturdy."

"It will," she assures him.

The cut has crusted over by the time evening settles and you have to will yourself not to pick at it. You find yourself alone with the horse, watching the sun set behind the trees, as everyone else eats. 

"You probably don't like being tied up here, huh? You'd rather be running around." The coarse mane engrosses your fingers. Cherry bobs her head and a wet muzzle brushes your elbow. It tickles and you smile softly. "I wonder what will happen to you once they leave," you whisper. "Horses can't fit in a raft, huh?"

"No, they can't."

A hand presses into her neck beside yours, the person's arm extending over your shoulder. You crane your neck at Kyle but his eyes are on the animal, thoughtful, brows lowered. You wet your lips and step to the side to bring more space between your bodies. 

"Not hungry either?" you ask.

Finally he looks at you, lips quirked at the side. "Nah. I had a big lunch." He stops petting her and crosses his arms, chin tilting. "Ever ridden a horse before?"

"Once or twice. As a kid."

His eyes almost lean dark green in the cast of orange light, but it must be a mere illusion. "Care to go for a ride?"

His eyebrow rises expectantly. You glance back at the cabin and then at Cherry. "Why not?"

He instructs you how to get on. You grip the knob of the saddle and flex your core, hoisting yourself with more strength than you've had to use in a few days. Kyle sits behind you and grips the reins after untying her. The last time you were on a horse was for a friend's birthday party; you trekked through a ranch on a white pony. Cherry is much taller than that one was, or maybe you're not fond of being so high up. You thread your fingers through her mane.

It is a silent ride at first as you try to ignore the sting on your butt, unused to firm leather seat. He must notice your discomfort because he tells you to relax and lean back. You do, until your spine brushes against his chest. It helps a little.

Cherry trots calmly through the trees, towards the circle of stumps that marks the east. 

"Do you think she will be able to take care of herself?" you break the quiet. 

"I'm sure she will be fine. Smart girl, huh, Cherry?"

The sun has disappeared but it isn't quite dark yet. "Are you scared?"

A breathy chuckle emits from behind you. He must realize what you are referring to—scared for the journey. "Yeah, always. I mean—I'm scared about Ari. He's the last family I got, and as old as he thinks he is, he's still young and naive. I still have to make choices for him."

"I was terrified of losing Joseph," you admit, and swallow. "He was so young and fragile. It felt like...like trying to keep an egg from cracking when your hands are made of stone. But at least I never had to take him to another country."

"That was your nephew? Joseph?"

You nod. 

"Tell me about him."

You rack your brain. "Well, he was seven. And he..." You smile to yourself. "He was the pickiest eater in the world, even when we were all starving. I could not get him to eat meat unless I practically burned it. And he liked to look at bugs. I did, too, when I was young. I used to dig up worms when it rained to show him." He hums a gentle laugh behind you. You find yourself lost in the thought of it for a second. "Sometimes I...I think about how once I die, there will be no one left to remember those little things about him. Then, he will be completely gone, you know?"

You don't know why you're telling him this. You shake your head. "Sorry."

"Don't be. We gotta talk about shit like that or else we'll go crazy."

"I'm pretty sure I'm already crazy."

"Probably." A deer passes to the left and Cherry startles, but he is quick to soothe her with a flick of the reins and a stern—easy. She settles. "Are you scared?" he asks after a moment.

"Of what?"

"Of traveling so far."

"Well, I don't know if Ghost..." you trail off, absorbing the tone of his voice. You stiffen. "Wait, what do you mean?"

"I mean how we're all leaving in a month."

"Wait—stop." You grip his hand over the rein with more force than necessary, urging him to bring Cherry to a halt. You twist your spine and gape at him. "What are you talking about?"

He eyes you with a frown, and rubs his neck. "Shit. I thought he already told you."

"No, he didn't. Tell me," you demand.

He clears his throat. "He, uh, agreed to come this morning, but only if we take another month to prepare and shit. Get his daughter ready, sort things out."

You try not tremble in anger as his words sink in, clenching your hands as your breath picks up. "Take me back," you breathe out, brain racing. "I want to go back now."

The ride back is silent. You feel shaken. Your nail digs deep into the nick on your thumb unthinkingly until there is a smear of blood over your fingers. The others are getting ready for bed when the two of you return, moon bright. You bite your tongue until Ghost leaves to his room, then you follow him, closing the door as gently as you can behind you.

He is halfway through peeling off his socks and stuffing them in his boots when you approach. "What happened to being a man of your word?" 

He looks up, resting his palms on his parted knees, looking far too relaxed for your liking. 

When he doesn't respond, you add, "You were supposed to tell me. You said you fucking would."

Your voice is low but harsh.

He stands, a calm understanding washing through his eyes. "I was about to tell you."

You throw up your arms but try to stay quiet. "Bullshit. You're just saying that now. You've had all day to tell me."

"I was waiting for the right time."

"You think I can't handle it," you accuse, an ugly snarl on your face. "That I don't deserve to be apart of these conversations even after everything I have done for you, and for her. I saved her life! You get pissed at me for not telling you about stupid things, meanwhile you don't communicate something so important like we are leaving with them in a month to fucking Switzerland. Does Blue know? Or do you keep your own blood in the dark, too?"

He growls quietly and takes hold of your chin, tilting your gaze to his. His touch is firm but far from bruising. "I am not lying to you. I wanted to have a conversation right now, where it could just be us. And no—I haven't told her. How I explain this to my child is not your concern." There is a command in his voice that forces you to calm down some, but your breath is still warm through your nose. He moves his hand to gently thumb a strand of shortened hair off your forehead, staring at it for a second, before gripping your chin again. "There is nothing I think you cannot handle. Now, who told you about this?"

Blotches of red crawl over your cheeks. "It doesn't...it doesn't matter."

He is visibly unsatisfied. He taps his thumb against your chin. "Tell me."

"It was...Kyle," you concede in an exhale. "He assumed I already knew."

His eyes darken. "It wasn't his place to assume."

"He didn't mean to." You reach up to pry his hand off, and he relents, leaving your jaw feeling sore. You rub it. "Why a month?" You try to change the topic.

He takes a deep, steadying breath and looks away, jaw flexing. "She needs time. I want to prepare her for all possible outcomes. I still don't think she is ready, but that doesn't matter. There won't be another opportunity like this in the future. I have to make her ready." He sits down on the edge of the bed and sits his elbows on his thighs, collecting his thoughts before adding, "And the weather is a big factor. Just because we have means to get across the water doesn't mean it will happen safely. The current is most predictable in July and August. We will wait until then."

You mentally sort through everything he is saying, willing yourself not to linger on the fact that you are beyond scared. Scared to leave the place you have finally felt safe in. Scared to clearly be the odd one out again. A tag-along. Everyone else in this group has a loved one looking out for them. You have yourself. You don't know if you have Ghost, really—not when Blue is the one he loves. His allegiance can only go so far.

"Okay," you whisper, more to yourself than to him. "A month, then. What about shelter? The nights will be our most vulnerable."

"We'll look for the safest places for the night. There'd be seven of us, so plenty of eyes to keep watch."

"And what if we run into a horde?"

"Well, we have plenty of ammo now for that." He flicks his eyes up to yours. "Thanks to you."

You nibble your cheek, palming your chest as if to calm your heart. 

"A month," he reminds you. "We will account for everything."

"Okay," you say again. There is a tinge of embarrassment over your outburst, but he doesn't seem fazed, as if you hadn't just barged in the room yelling at him. "Okay."

A click of his tongue. "Any more questions?"

"Not...not for now, I guess."

A few silent beats pass. The tension has left the room, leaving you with a wave of fatigue. Ghost must notice because he rises, gesturing to the bed. "Go on, then." 

The bed is yours again. Too exhausted to question it, you slip under the quilt, curling into a fetal position by the slanted ceiling. It's best to enjoy the warmth before you're back on the move. A week journeying through the woods was the worst you'd ever endured, barely surviving. Now, it'll be months, or however long it takes to reach the goddamn Swiss mountains.

The light flicks off. There is a groan in the mattress and heady warmth spills over you. Your eyes fly open. "What are you doing?"

"Getting some sleep."

You turn around to see him lying beside you, flat on his back, with his arms crossed behind his head. "Together?"

"Clearly neither of us fancies the floor."

You flush, feeling his firm thigh brush against yours. "Just... keep to your side."

"I'll be a gentleman, if you're worried."

"I'm not," you mumble. "How do you even sleep in that thing, by the way?"

"Like a baby."

"Don't you think it's weird that Kyle has seen you without it and I haven't?"

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, Twix."

"And mental sanity doesn't suit you, Simon."

"Don't recall giving you permission to use that name."

"What, only your old captain gets to use it? How close were the two of you, exactly?"

Teasing him feels better than you're willing to admit.

He grunts. A pillow is thrashed against the side of your face. "Go to sleep."

"Yes, sir," you bite into the pillow.

Your instinct is to flinch closer to the edge, though it is difficult given the small size of the bed and the unnatural size of him. Your knees float off the mattress. Still, his sprawled-out position leaves points of connection. The bastard. Your back, his elbow. Your feet, his calf. Small touches that do a surprisingly good job at soothing the mess in your brain.

---

You awake. Warm and rested.

Safe.

Morning light streams in, turning the backs of your eyelids red. Your face nudges forward until your nose brushes against fabric—a shirt. Awareness settles in slowly. Your toes stretch and brush against another set of toes. You realize you’re curled close against someone.

He’s still on his back, his right arm draped across your waist, fingertips resting on your exposed hip. Your breath hitches, and you do your best not to flinch. Your face is nuzzled into his chest, close enough to discern ribs from muscle. His steady breathing and gentle rumbles indicate he’s still asleep. You’re ready to peel yourself away when you notice your leg is on top of his, practically trapping him.

Fuck.

You stay still, devising a plan to extricate yourself without him noticing the position you're in. Then, in one swift motion, you leap up, removing all contact, and breathe hard as if ripped from a nightmare.

His eyes open and he swears. "Jesus. What was that?"

"Just a dream," you lie. "Sorry for waking you."

You jump out of the bed and practically run out before he can say anything; before he can realize how odd it'd be for you to have a dream when you haven't had one since... since staying in his room.

You lock yourself in the bathroom and grip the counter, knuckles whitening in the attempt to erode the feel of his warmth that seems to linger. A lump is forced down your throat as you lean back against the wall and close your eyes for a moment. When they reopen, you look down and lift your shirt, only to find the indent of strong fingertips brandishing your plush hip. Jesus. Your stomach knots and unknots. 

"You didn't like that," you whisper to yourself. You brush your thumb over the marks, gently at first, then palming them hard as if to erase them. You drop your shirt and look at the mirror. "You did not like that."

Before someone can stumble upon you talking to yourself, you comb your fingers through tousled strands and slip out. It seems most others are awake. How could you and Ghost have slept so long? Usually, the two of you are up with the sun. 

"Hey. Morning," you greet when you spot Blue on the porch, belly down, as she plays checkers with Kyle's nephew. She glances over her shoulder. Something in her bright eyes seems...off, but you can't put your finger on it.

"Hi. Is Ghost up yet?"

"Hm? Oh, uh—not sure. I didn't check, really."

"Okay." She looks back at the game and says nothing else. You feel as though she saw right through you. Or maybe that boy has told her everything. Surely he knows about Ghost's plans? Kyle had to have told him. Maybe that is why Blue seems upset, but like he said, it isn't your place to say anything. 

You are itching for a hunt. 

It feels urgent, for some reason. Like you want to get out of here before Ghost can be up, too. You find Kyle and he suggests that the two of you take Cherry so you can get go further south where he claims there is a meadow to look for deer. It is difficult to ride with him behind you and a bow on your back, so he wears it for you. You can feel his eyes on the back of your head.

"Awfully quiet this morning. Penny for your thoughts?"

"I talked to him," is what you give. "Last night."

"Ah. How'd that go?"

"It was fine. I mean, I am getting used to the idea."

"That's good. It'll be worth it, you know. Once we get there. Finally get to have a semblance of a normal life."

A normal life. You almost snort at the thought. 

The morning grows longer, and not even the haircut can save you from the sweat that gathers. You make it to the meadow after an hour of horseback that leaves your thighs bristling. He helps you down and ties Cherry to a tree. You wade through tall, bright grasses that sway in the humid breeze. It looks vaguely familiar, stirring something in your gut that has your boots frozen for a moment. 

Kyle looks back at you, noticing that you've stopped following. "Good?"

"I just—I think I've been here once before. When I was on my own. I came this way." Your eyes scan the surrounding trees, where the meadow feeds into the forest, and an a gnarly oak with distinctive branches catches your eye. "I definitely have been here. I slept in that tree."

You push into the meadow, shaking off the memory. Staying close to Kyle, you listen as he lightly shares memories from the military, careful not to startle any potential deer. He talks about his time in Afghanistan, mentioning that his brother was also there, but at a different base. Kyle didn't even know his brother had died until weeks later because he was out in the field.

"After Afghanistan is when I met Ghost the first time."

"Oh?"

He nods. "He was my lieutenant when I went to Russia. I was scared shitless of him at first. I mean, he had a bit of a reputation and I was only 22."

"He was good at what he did," you say.

"More than that. People said he was up to some shit outside of what he did, but that was just rumors."

You think you spot a streak of gold through the grass, but it is just a stalk of wild wheat. You look back at him. "What do you mean?"

"May have heard a thing or two about him killing a guy off-duty. Of course, unconfirmed, otherwise he wouldn't have been enlisted again."

He killed someone? Like actual murder? You're about to ask more, your mind flashing back to your face pressed against him an hour earlier. Then you spot a deer. Kyle sees it too and motions for you to stay quiet. Your boots are nearly silent as you draw an arrow, squinting to see clearer. There are three deer: an adult female and two fawns. You draw the string and aim for the adult, the easier target.

"I'll get the doe," you whisper.

"Gotcha."

The beady black eyes turn your way, and you hesitate for a moment. There's movement, a flash of grey, and the doe snaps her eyes in another direction. What is she looking at? Your brows furrow, arrow following her gaze, when the answer appears: a Grey launching toward the deer. The three deer run off, and you release the arrow, aiming for the Grey's head instead.

"Motherfucker. Ruined the kill," Kyle mutters.

You weave toward the corpse, surprised to see such a fast one alone, indicating a new infection. The stench is pungent, enveloping you in a thick cloud. You shudder. The Grey writhes, your arrow lodged in its neck instead of its brain. You draw another arrow and aim when a hand suddenly grips your shoulder.

"Twix," Kyle breathes in your ear.

"What?" 

You look away from the Grey and follow Kyle's gaze, your eyes widening in horror as you realize the terrible smell isn't from this single creature. It's hundreds. A dark, grey mist that unfurls through the trees. A growing chorus of agony as their tattered bodies collide—some limping, others hurtling forward in a grotesque dance, but all converging on the meadow.

[endearng]

Firsts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Summary: You and Spencer navigate through your firsts throughout your life as childhood friends.

WC: 6k

Warnings: death, grief, use of drugs to cope with grief, uhhhh i guess that's it

A/N: HELLO!!! It's been so so long and I'm sorry I took forever to update — uni's kicking my ass but now I'll try to write a bit more during holidays season. I hope you guys enjoy this one <3 Feedbacks are highly appreciated!

| masterlist

"Do you think we'll stay friends?"

"I'm sure we'll stay friends."

For a genius, your best friend, Spencer Reid, never seemed to notice some of his speech patterns — he would echo you sometimes, which you honestly found adorably funny, and he also had a tendency for rambling, even if it wasn't that appropriate at times. When you two were alone, you didn't mind; in fact, you encouraged him and let him talk to you all the way. When there was someone else, like either of your parents or a teacher (these were your regular companions), you would try to tap him on the arm subtly so he would know when to stop. Although it broke your heart, he said himself once that he appreciated when you helped him look more normal.

Right now, things are everything but normal. Spencer had graduated high school at the age of 12 while you were still in seventh grade and he was leaving to study at Caltech. You didn't dare to compare yourself to him, but you would definitely miss him around, since he was the first person you saw everyday (besides your parents, of course) and the one who walked you to school and then went on the way to his. Right now, you are sitting on the floor of your front porch, while Spencer is laying his head on your lap and you have your hands on his hair. You always said to him that he's got nice hair, no matter how he styled or decided to cut it. He blushed every single time.

"You know… I'm gonna miss you, Spencer."

"I'm gonna miss you. But you'll still be in my life."

"Will I?"

"I'm leaving, but I'll try my best to keep in touch. We can call each other. I'll spare a couple hours of my week so you can talk to me." A small grin stretched on his lips when he mentioned talking to you. A crease made its way between your brows when you thought you'd only talk to him weekly.

Trying to play it cool, you asked, just to be sure, just to check if the pang in your heart felt less intense, less hurtful. "Will you?"

"Yes, I will."

Despite having him in your lap, you couldn't see his eyes, for they were closed in delight from your gentle touch. You saw him smile softly and you could see just how relaxed he seemed with this big change — honestly, if you were him, you'd be terrified. Quickly trying to get rid of your sad and fearful thoughts, as you ran your hands through his hair, you poorly fought the urge to chuckle when you thought about braiding his hair. He felt the air that left your lungs hit his face when you did.

Curious, as he always had been, he inquired, "What is it?"

"You'd look good with braids."

"I'm not letting you braid my hair," even if his tone was one of mock offense, a chuckle made its way out of him.

"I didn't ask to."

You saw as he bit back a grin. Little did you know, but he's is heaven, here in your presence. In dire need of some place safe to just be, without the expectations and the big things that are expected from him and to happen to him. As you unknowingly soothed his thoughts with your gentle touch, he thought about how strange it is having someone touch him and not being utterly opposed to the idea. He also thought about how, for one time in his life, he didn't know something, which was the feeling spreading on his chest. Nevertheless, there was a ghost of a small, shy smile on his face as his shoulders relaxed.

He was happy.

—

As you made your way home from your sixteenth birthday dinner, something felt odd. Looking out the window, the city lights seemed to run from how fast your dad is driving. In the backseat, all alone, you tried to figure out what made you feel so empty all night long. As the car went over a bump, you instinctively looked to the side, and then everything made sense. Spencer wasn't there. Usually, after whatever family celebration you'd go to, he would be there (because you'd insist on taking him with you), by your side in the backseat of your dad's car, laughing at whatever funny thing had happened during the event. He was your company to every single thing you did, and you had been missing him quite more often as the contact between you two became more and more scarce.

Turning to look out the window again, your mom saw the frown on your face and sighed quietly, knowing precisely why you weren't chatting like you normally did. The specific pair of ears that you wanted to be listened by were not here. And she didn't blame you one bit.

As you got home, your frown was quickly replaced by a hopeful feeling on your chest and in your features when you found a voicemail addressed to you.

Hey! I hope you get home before midnight so that you won't think, not even for a minute, that I have forgotten about you. I'm so sorry I couldn't make it! I'm really stressed right now because there are too many things happening at the same time and I'm here all by myself, so... I guess you know, better than myself, how I feel. You… You know me so well. It is nice to be known by you. Anyway... Um... I'd like to wish you a happy birthday and, ah, I also would like you to know that I wish I could have been with you today. I'm really sorry because I know how much you love your birthdays. I'm sending you a gift, but I'm not sure if it will arrive on time. I miss you. I miss you and whatever Taylor Swift song you were always humming when we were walking back from school.

Anyway, er... I miss you—hah—I don't think I'll ever be able to tell you how much I miss you. And how much I miss our time together. Uh, happy birthday!

You didn't know when, but you had teared up at some point listening to him. You didn't know whether the cause was hearing his voice again or because he remembered you or because he told you he missed your time together or that he remembered the silly songs you'd sing when you were walking back home together. Before going to bed, you let your bedside table lamp on, as you always did before so Spencer knew, from the house beside yours, that you were up or you didn't care if he called you in the middle of the night. Either way...

You were happy.

—

Underneath the Christmas tree, the glow of the warm white fairy lights you and your mom had picked out was almost blinding. Yet, you and Spencer couldn't care less. You were both too infatuated by the blinding brightness that punished your eyes to care about having problems later. Closing your eyes, you smiled to yourself, happy to be doing something so ordinary, so dumb, with your best friend. Behind your eyelids, the light was not as relentless and it granted some relief from the current sight, which sort of looked like a kaleidoscope of... white. You heard when Spencer turned his head to look at you, but you missed his soft grin.

"It was overwhelming me," you explained.

"I know." He replied, still looking at you.

Your profile, under the yellowish glow, looked almost ethereal. The slope of your nose, the curve of your lips, everything was forever ingrained into his memory. By now, Spencer could map out every single freckle on your face — especially the particular one on your lower lip. He sighed at the sheer thought of your lips. You were now seventeen and so was Spencer. Puberty had been way gentler on you than it was on him and he noticed with a blush that you were growing up, just as he was. You were a little taller, for sure, and you had put on some weight in all the right places, not to mention your style that matched your personality. As for him, he had that voice pitch swing that he hated greatly, still wore thick glasses and overall went with the nerdy stereotype that everyone picked on him for… while you looked like you were glowing.

You opened your eyes and turned to look at him. You were so close that it almost hurt. Inches separated Spencer from what he thought would be the best feeling of his life. From the person that had him lying awake for hours, tossing and turning on his bed until the sun began to rise. "I can't wait to give you your gift. I think you'll love it!"

He grinned. "I'll be happy with anything." From you, he meant to say, but he didn't finish.

You closed your eyes again, a grin of your own on your face. He wondered... What if he got closer? What if he kissed you? What if you pulled away? What if you didn't pull away? What if you cut him off?

Almost unconsciously, he inched closer and closer to the point your breaths mingled together. You didn't pull away, not even for a second. Instead, you leaned in, getting ever closer to him than you ever had been before. The fairy lights made you look even prettier than before. You looked like a dream.

"I was thinking..."

"About what?" He asked. Despite his gaze being lost in you, he was acutely aware of the words coming out of your mouth.

God, your mouth.

"It's stupid..." You muttered, looking away from his eyes.

"You know you can talk to me." It's not stupid if it's you.

"Okay... okay." You breathed in. "Me and the girls were talking about first kisses. And I felt so, so embarrassed because I haven't had mine yet."

Spencer felt dizzy. Even if he wasn't the best at social cues, if he was reading this right, you wanted him to kiss you too. He exhaled softly, trying to clear his thoughts. His voice was weak when he asked, "And?"

"Have you had yours yet? I know we talk about everything and all that, but... have you?"

He chuckled at your question. How could he, the scrawny little nerdy boy have had his kiss and you hadn't? "You're joking right?"

"I'm not! I'm genuinely curious."

He didn't know, but your heart was in your throat, too scared of a positive answer.

"I haven't had my first kiss yet."

Somehow, that did nothing to calm your racing heart. Inching even closer, you muttered, "we could have it together."

If Spencer didn't pass out with your words, he was sure he would be unshakable for the rest of his life. Whatever life threw at him, it wouldn't matter as much as this moment of sheer strength and self-control, because he didn't pull you in immediately. "Are you sure?"

"I'd be fine with kissing you. You're my best friend. I—I know you won't judge me and you know I won't judge you either. And—and... even if things are... embarrassing... i—it will still be a good memory in the… future." As your soft voice reached his ears, he felt like he was in heaven.

Your arguments for kissing him made him wonder if you had spent that much time considering it as he did. "Okay, you've got a few points. I'm—I'm not... opposed to the idea."

Your heart burned. You both inched closer and closer, a hair width separating your lips. As your eyes fluttered closed and you placed one of your hands on the back of his neck, both hesitantly and surely, Spencer mimicked you and pressed his lips to yours with the lightest pressure as his hand found your waist tentatively. Your lips felt so soft and sweet. He knew he would feel you for days — and hoped you'd feel him for days, too.

Encouraged by him, you pressed your lips a bit harder against him. He gasped softly and you took the opportunity to capture his lower lip between yours and kiss it gently. Spencer could feel his heartbeat drumming on his ears and he tightened his hold on your waist the tiniest bit. Internally, he thought he died and went to heaven and that's how he was welcomed there. Your lips fit together so nicely and he felt his heart burning for you and he knew back then that he would do anything you asked him to in a heartbeat.

You pulled back to lick your lips and fitted them into his again. He sighed, again, moving to your accord as he tried focusing on how good it felt to be kissed by you rather than how you could regret it later. Distancing yourself, your eyes slowly fluttered open, finding his dazed ones already looking back at you. You grinned at him. Another secret between the two of you; but this time, it wasn't an embarrassing one.

He smiled back.

Later that day, Spencer sat on his bed, touching his lips, feeling the tingle yours had left behind. Smiling like an idiot, he wrote that date on the wood of his nightstand, black marker holding the evidence that tonight had actually happened, if he were to ever forget. If anyone asked, well, he would have to come up with something to hide the fact that he was relentlessly in love with you, but he would replay the best memory of his life in the back of his mind as his mouth stuttered out a little white lie.

He was so confused. And screwed. And so utterly happy.

—

At Caltech, at the ripe age of eighteen, on a working day, as usual, Spencer typed aggressively on his keyboard, writing an academic paper on a topic that had come to his mind during one of his classes and later inspired fully by a conversation with this one professor. Looking at the time on his computer screen, he cursed. It was already time he was supposed to be on his way to class, which was unlike him. There was a reason, though.

Last night, he had gotten home late. He had lost track of time talking to a girl whose name was Alex. They were both at the university library, and they hit it off immediately talking about Literature and then more mundane things — he had found out that she was a high schooler having classes with grad students, just like himself a few years back. Getting home late, his entire schedule for the day ahead had been ruined, so everything felt odd as he tried to navigate through his last obligations. He had gone to bed later than usual and overslept for some reason unknown to him.

As he got up abruptly, he knocked his knee on the desk, which was now getting very small for the size he had grown into. Shutting his eyes and suppressing a whine, he breathed in. As he opened his eyes, his line of sight caught glance of one of the two only photos he had hung up on his wall. The first was him and his mother, Diana. The second was you and him.

It was short after your fifteenth birthday, and he finally had had the time to go visit. You had greeted him with a very warm hug. That very same day, you had dragged him to your bedroom, which now didn't have the pink walls and the posters of the bands you liked so much anymore. Now, the walls were a cool tone of sage green and your walls were cleaner, the posters being replaced by photos of you and your friends from school. He had felt a tinge of jealousy, noticing just how much he was missing out on your life. Despite the lingering feeling, he tried to not let it get to him.

You thanked him so much for the gift he had given you, one of those polaroid cameras. He had spent so much time saving money to get you that present. The excited, happy tone in your voice during the phone call you had made to thank him made him feel like it had been worth it to spend that much.

"Hey, here she is! I named her Marie. From Marie Curie, of course." You explained, holding your camera carefully as you both entered your bedroom

"You named 'her' Marie?"

"She has a special place on my heart."

He chuckled. "You're so material, sometimes."

"You gave it to me!"

"I gave it to you." He whispered, a hint of a smile dancing around his features.

You smiled. "Come on, let's take a picture. It's her first. I waited a whole month so you'd be here to take this photo with me. It's only fair you're the first person to be photographed with me by Marie."

"Oh... okay..."

Holding the camera with both of your hands, you held it out so that it would capture the two of you. "Smile." You said, and, without checking his pose, you pressed the button, a big grin on your face, for the photo, of course, but also from being so madly happy that you were with him again. Spencer didn't know what do to, frozen on the spot because you were so, so close. He just looked at you, dumbstruck gaze on him as he watched you smile so beautifully at the camera.

His heart was doing somersaults.

After the flash in your face, you blinked rapidly, chuckling to yourself. "Oooh. That's uncomfortable, heh." You open your eyes and the first thing you see are his beautiful hazel ones, looking straight at you, as if he didn't even blink upon the bothering aftermath of the light on your faces. You nearly had to gulp under the intensity of his gaze. Then, you quickly regained consciousness and started fanning the small piece so that the picture would appear faster.

The result was the one now stuck to his wall: you, with the biggest smile on your face and he, lovestruck, dumb, lost gaze as he looked at you.

Sigh.

Spencer quickly shook his head, not meaning to be later and even more stressed than he already was. He missed you, though. And he let himself relish in that feeling of longing for a minute. Glancing at the photo, he couldn't help but think you were already eighteen. And that he had loved you from the first time he saw you — when he was twelve.

He sat on his bed, having removed the photo from the wall. As he held it delicately between his fingers, he thought of you. He always did. In spite of being late, in spite of everything telling him he had to go through his days, he felt something tugging at his heartstrings, a longing feeling that he should be somewhere else, something that told him something, so he knew.

It was time to go.

—

Back in his hometown, even the air felt different, despite exuding an aroma that reminded him of his younger days. It had been some time since he had visited, and the distance between you and him only grew further. Driving past your house — the state of California had finally issued his license —, he saw a somewhat big crowd of people, all dressed in black.

He felt like the noise around him didn't fully reach his brain. Like he was under water.

Robotically stepping out of his car, he approached the house cautiously. Almost as instantly as your mom welcomed him, he saw you across the room, dressed in black. Bloodshot eyes found him instantly, and a flicker of relief passed your expression — unable to muster up a smile, but oh so willing to show him that you were grateful for his presence. You felt frozen to the spot and had been standing in that corner for hours. A man placed his hand on your shoulder and that's when you looked away from Spencer. He noticed it, of course, and was obliged to acknowledge the blonde man by your side. You didn't smile at him either.

Spencer approached, somewhat relieved that you were okay, but so confused and overwhelmed by the entire situation. Almost unwilling to believe whatever bad thing had happened, because he had been so happy with you in that house.

Once he was within your earshot, you greeted weakly, "Hi."

"Hi."

Silence.

"Can we talk?"

Something about the look in your eyes told him that you desperately wanted, no, needed, craved it from him, his presence. With a subtle nod, you excused yourself from the man and lead him to the backyard. Sitting on the same bench you did when it was too late and you talked about the stars together, you reveal softly as you stare into the distance, "Dad's gone."

Spencer felt like he had been punched and all the air had left his lungs after your confirmation of something he was suspecting already. Finally, he blurted out, sitting down by yourself, "W—what?"

"He didn't wake up."

"He didn't wake up?"

"No... Last night, Spencer..." You begun, your voice thick with emotion, "he said that everything was alright." You frowned, tears streaming down your face, "That he... loves... loved me and mom... and that... that had been his role on Earth."

He stood quiet, waiting for the rest of what you had to say, still shaken by the news. Your broken voice and distant gaze were enough to skyrocket the pain he felt. Spencer absolutely adored your dad, and he was one of the few that Spencer confided in wholeheartedly when things got too rough for him to bear by himself. Even though your dad was the quiet type, Spencer would go as far as saying that he was somehow his dad as well.

With your silence, he had a little time to see past the pain. Analyzing your figure, he knew. He knew you had to leave. If you decided to stay, you'd be rooted to the spot and you wouldn't be able to grow any further, forever stuck into the never ending, relentless force of grief. Spencer knew that because, besides knowing you better than anyone else, he had left in hopes to escape the person he thought he was doomed to become. Your voice brought him out of his reverie. "I laughed. I thought he was joking."

"Maybe he was joking."

"Maybe he knew he was leaving."

Silence.

You look up at him. Asking for answers. For something. For comfort.

Sitting down beside you, he held your shaking shoulders as you let tears fall freely and you lost your breath and you choked on your own saliva. An ugly, guttural, desolate crying. Spencer held you through it all — he was ready to scream at anyone on the garden if they had the nerve to go there, but, actually, in that moment, you didn't care that somebody could see or hear you. The effect of the pills your mother had given you had started to wear off and you felt things way more intensely than when she first broke the news.

Dad's gone, was all that you could hear her voice say as Spencer turned his body to fully embrace you, placing your head on his shoulder and sobbing your pain as an effort to quell the ache of your loss.

It took every single ounce of self-control for Spencer not to break down with you, because in that moment, he preferred to swallow his own pain so that he could be your safe space instead. As your sobs slowly subsided, you sighed, squeezing your eyes shut as if that would make the pain that invaded your whole body go away.

"I think..." you started, but never finished.

Silence.

"I think you should move away."

You looked at him, baffled, puzzled, hopeful.

"What?" You whispered softly.

"I think staying won't do you any good. And you know I'm right." His gaze never faltered.

You took a deep breath. "M-my mom... Spencer... she doesn't have anyone else. I-I can't do that... to her..." You gulped. The meer thought of leaving felt exhilarating, but you had to stay. You were rooted.

"Your brothers are always around." He replied.

"Not anymore. Much has changed since… since you... left."

"I didn't leave." He said, defensively.

"I didn't accuse you. At least I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

He pressed his lips into a thin line. "Would you consider it? Leaving, I mean?" Please, say yes. Please, say yes. Come with me.

"I would... I don't know, Spencer." Your voice was broken. "Too... too much is going on. I can't just... go."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"There's dad. And now mom. And that stupid college... I don't know where I fit." You fit next to me, he wanted to scream at you, but he realized it wasn't fair of him to demand anything from you at that moment. "I don't know what path to take without my dad here to guide me." A wet chuckle made its way out of you. He hugged you again.

On a sudden wave of boldness, he stated, "If you stay, this will be your life. If you go, you'll have somewhere to come back to if things go wrong. I—I… I know, um, that I sound very insensitive right now, but that's the truth. Why do you think I went away?"

"I can't." And your tears began again, even harder this time.

He sighed, holding you against his chest once again. Despite the unbearable pain of not being able to help, to persuade you, he decided to respect your decision.

“My father's in a casket. I have got no plans.” You muttered softly. His heart broke for you all over again.

“You've got me. And I've got you.”

Looking up at him, your eyes glimmered with hope. Desperate to believe him, desperate to leave. With him, if he'd have you.

But that wasn't how it worked.

You buried your face on his chest again, willing the tears to stop, to have some control over yourself again.

He held you through it all. He was there for you.

Spencer's stay didn't last long, even though it was filled with an unspoken, desperate beg for you to come with him, even if he didn't quite know how things would work once you accepted. After some thinking, he realized he was asking too much of you for the sake of trying to protect you from what he knew was going to happen. Losing his own father, albeit for a different reason, had changed him permanently and he was scared that you, losing yours, would turn into a different person too. The mere thought of losing you to grief was too much to handle, even if he understood that his pleas were unfair to you, not to mention absurd.

Spencer's brain was turned into a whirlwind of thoughts, all of them desperate to find a way out of this situation, to find a way out to get you out of that place — both physically and mentally. As he stood by your side during your dad's burial, he let you squeeze his hand as if that would somehow make the pain less intense for you. It didn't, but it felt nice to have someone to carry the weight with you.

—

Spencer had joined the FBI at the age of 23, when you were graduating from college. The difference was staggering and it made you laugh the same as it had when he was going to college and you were going to seventh grade. It had been years since you had last met in person, after all, Diana was the main reason he'd go to Vegas, and he didn't go there much because he was often too busy with his studies and his career. Once, he had confided in you, saying that he secretly wished that it would be enough of a good excuse to avoid seeing his mother in a facility and saving them both from the pain. Tonight, though, that would change. You were visiting him in Virginia.

A little nervous, you knocked on his door. Once he answered, you took in his appearance and your heart swelled at the sight. In your eyes, he'd always looked the prettiest, but now… It's like something had shifted: Spencer was all that you saw. And you didn't want to look at anything else anymore.

“Hi,” you greeted in a weak voice. Perhaps the intensity of your smile stole away your will to speak properly.

“You're here.” Spencer muttered, eyes filled with many emotions, but that you decided to read as relief.

“I am.”

“God, it's been so long,” he says, closing the gap between you and him, wrapping his arms around your torso, resting his head on your shoulder, not so subtly trying to smell your perfume. And failing to hide the overdrive when he noticed it was the same from all those years ago, from when you had first kissed.

Pulling away slightly, you cupped his cheeks with both hands and took in his shiny eyes, the ones that you adored so much and now met yours with a new perspective on everything. Once entering his apartment, you found that the place screamed his name, from the scattered books and the endless piles all over his living room. His TV had a documentary in a foreign language on, and you smiled to yourself. Spencer had never changed and, at his core, was still the boy you were once close friends with.

Spencer filled you in on the things you missed. You knew they were mostly about his job because he wasn't one to step out of his comfort zone — not that you'd judge him for it. “I miss having you around, tapping my arm so I know when to stop,” he revealed softly as you two shared a tub of ice cream.

Forget germs, forget pathogens, forget viruses, forget everything. She is here.

You giggled. It set his heart on fire. “Ah, Spencer… You know I only did it when other people were around. Other people are just other people. You're you. And rambling is part of who you are. Don't let that disappear.”

He smiled. You were still you.

“In fact, I have something to tell you.”

His heartbeat fastened, thinking of every possible scenario, reliving every single one of your experiences in the back of his mind. “You… you have something to tell me?” He echoed. He was still him.

Chuckling softly, “I'm glad you're still you, Spencer. I still say your name when people ask me who's my best friend. It's an excuse to relive our favorite stories as I tell them all about you.”

Spencer was left speechless, bashfully looking away from you as he resumed to talk about his days at the FBI. He told you all about his team, the people and what they found on a daily basis. “Do you think it's weird that I study what I do study?”

“No, Spence. You've always had a curious mind. Why do you ask?” You inquired back.

“I don't know… sometimes I think that people find me weird.”

“You're not,” you said, simply. “Your interests are very diverse, and anyone who talks to you will find that out. Being a profiler is not weird.”

He grinned. Your words or arguments about his insecurities throughout your friendship weren't always the most complex, but he always felt better by talking to you. He was never ashamed, never too scared of admitting something or voicing his needs. You made him feel like it was okay to speak, to want, to be. Whatever his limitations were and whatever words he left unspoken, they were never your fault. You'd never frowned at him, not once.

As the night progressed, he filled you in on what he had been doing for fun, mentioning his current readings — one of them on his nightstand. Giddily, you went over to his bedroom to find the novel that he was talking about, so that you could hear him talk about it and recite, by heart, quotes that illustrated his points and interpretation from the book. Upon entering his bedroom, you smiled to yourself. So Spencer. The sand-colored walls, the neat and clean floor, his slightly wrinkled bedsheets, a pile of laundry on top of his bed, a few scattered items on his nightstand — which, by the way, was the same in his mother's house. You had always found it amazingly pretty, the light wood and the black paint that covered the iron of the drawer pulls.

As you reached the piece of furniture and removed the book, you found something scribbled right under where the object had been lying. You were ready to give him a piece of your mind and you opened your mouth, ready to tell him not to ruin the perfect nightstand, but as you turned on the lamp to try and find out what was written there, the writing in black ink made you shiver. You fell silent. It was the date of your first kiss.

Time stopped. Why was that date written there? And why did the possibilities both scared and thrilled you so damn much? You felt someone behind you. “So, you found the book or what?” The question made its way out of his lips in a teasing tone. But, as you turned around softly, the book still clutched tightly in your hands, your eyes questioned him back. Not accusingly, only… curiously.

When he realized what you had discovered, the air left his lungs and he tried desperately to come up with an excuse. It turns out that he hadn't been asked by many people about the meaning of that date — and it's not like he had many visitors, anyway. “I… You… You… Did you… see it?” You managed to nod, weakly.

“What does it mean?” You asked, eyes never leaving his.

Looking away, he replied, “I was scared to forget.”

“Forget?” You inquired, shifting your weight.

“About it…. That night, I mean. about… us.” You gazed at him understandingly once he answered.

“About us?” Funnily enough, now you were the one parroting him. It would have made you chuckle if the situation wasn't that serious.

He breathes out, “Yeah, us.”

A beat of silence. You take a step towards him, and his breath hitches. “Have you forgotten?”

He searches your face. Upon finding nothing but support, he reveals, “There's not a single day I don't remember that moment.” You gulp and he takes a step closer, which makes your grip on the book tighten even more. You closed your eyes — a silent invitation, but it makes him falter once he doesn't have your eyes to navigate him through what he's supposed to do.

I'm glad you're still you, Spencer.

Encouraged by the memory of your words from moments ago and the presence of you, he closes the distance between you, once and for all. There's nothing that could hold him back from loving you once your lips touch and press together in a kiss that makes the book fall to your feet as your hands find their place on the back of his neck.

On any other day, Spencer Reid would be pissed upon seeing someone drop a book, let alone a considerably heavy one, on his feet — that's absurd. That moment, though, he couldn't care less as he squeezed your waist, as if trying to convince himself that you were there, that it was real, and that he finally got to do what he has always wanted.

Spencer and you had been through many firsts during the time you've known each other; some good firsts and some pretty bad firsts. But, there was a quote, from ‘Doctor Who’, that you always reminded him and yourself whenever things got too tough:

"The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice versa, the bad things don’t always spoil the good things and make them unimportant."

As long as he had you to soften the bad things and had your company during the bad things that made the good ones unimportant, Spencer figured that life would be a pile of more good than bad things.

[spanktony]

“LEFTOVERS” - lee doona.

summary: lee doona was so full of herself and you hated it. until, you understood.

words: 4.2k +

warnings: 18+ g!p reader, p in v, oral (d receiving), doona’s kinda an ass but not really because she’s wifey, and i think that’s all.

notes: once request open back up more doona requests guys 🙏🙏🙏🙏 she’s so underrated

navigation. request.

you had never met someone so full of themselves; well, that was up until the moment you had your first interaction with doona. you had just finished lacing up your sneakers, your compression shirt hugging your torso and your workout pants snug and comfortable.

the day was still cool, perfect for a run, and you were looking forward to clearing your head after a long day of work.

being a server was no joke.

you popped your headphones into your ears, selecting your playlist before closing and locking the main entrance door behind you, completely oblivious to the pair of eyes that had been watching you from across the courtyard.

it was a beautiful evening, and you smiled as you started singing, off-key but nonetheless singing, while you warmed up and stretched before your run. you didn't notice the figure sitting nearby until you were almost past them.

doona.

she was sitting on the brick fence that surrounded an old tree, one leg crossed over the other, and a cigarette dangling from her lips. the smoke swirled lazily around her, and she exhaled slowly, watching you with a bored, detached look as you bopped your head to the music in your headphones.

you were in your own little world, head down, and pounding music that drowned out everything except for your own thoughts.

but then, just as you were getting into a good groove, doona stood up abruptly, taking a drag from her cigarette.

without missing a beat, she stepped directly into your path, her body blocking your way.

you came to a halt, pulling your headphones down to your neck.

"excuse me," you said, raising an eyebrow, already feeling the irritation start to build. you hadn't been expecting anyone to stand in your way, let alone her.

doona regarded you coolly, the smoke curling from her lips as she blew out a cloud and gave you a pointed look. "what's your deal?"

you blinked, confused, your jaw slightly dropping. "what?"

doona took another slow drag from her cigarette, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied you. the calm, almost calculating look on her face made you feel even more confused.

"you've been staring at me for weeks," she said, her voice laced with something you couldn't quite place. was it annoyance? amusement? "every time you run by, you look up at my apartment. i see you. you're watching me."

you blinked again, the irritation from before quickly turning into bewilderment. "what? i'm not—what are you talking about?"

doona's expression didn't soften. she flicked the ash off her cigarette, still maintaining that intense gaze. "don't act like you haven't noticed me. you've been eyeing me from across the courtyard every day, practically tracking my every move. and now you're singing my songs like some kind of weird obsession. what's your deal, stalker?"

a small laugh escaped you, almost out of reflex. "are you serious? i've just been doing my thing—i'm not stalking anyone."

doona raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. for a moment, there was a pause between you two, the sound of your heartbeat in your ears as your confusion started to shift into something else.

"yeah, right." she took another drag, blowing the smoke into your face, causing you to close your eyes and cough slightly. your jaw tightened at the action, but you still tried to keep your cool. the last thing you wanted was to give her any kind of satisfaction.

doona tilted her head to the side; the two of you studied each other intently, the tension thickening between you as the seconds dragged on. her gaze was sharp, predatory even, and her lips twitched into a small smirk.

you, on the other hand, were trying your hardest not to show how irritated you were. it wasn't like you cared that she thought you were some sort of stalker. in fact, you were far more interested in getting away from this confrontation and finishing your run.

but as you stared back at her, you couldn't help but feel... curious. who was this woman? why was she so damn confident and dismissive?

finally, you exhaled sharply, pulling your shoulders back when it finally hit you. she was lee doona, from dream sweet!

your confusion morphed into a mix of surprise and disinterest. you weren't particularly impressed by celebrity status, and honestly, you couldn't care less who she was. all you cared about was getting back to your routine and putting as much distance between you and this strange encounter as possible.

you stared at her for a beat longer, trying to mask the faint surprise flickering across your face. doona's eyes held an intense gaze, scanning you almost like a puzzle to be solved.

but when you didn't immediately react the way she expected, her expression faltered for a fraction of a second, and she flicked the cigarette again, sending more ash into the wind.

"so, what?" you said, cutting through the silence with a firm tone, finally over the awkwardness. "you're accusing me of stalking you because i run by and look up at the apartments? that's a stretch."

doona narrowed her eyes, seemingly a bit put off by your nonchalant attitude. she opened her mouth, but something in your demeanor stopped her. maybe it was the fact that you weren't fawning over her or hanging on her every word like people usually did.

maybe it was the confusion you still had about her unexpected behavior. she seemed a little unsure of herself for the first time in the conversation.

her voice, when it came out, was slightly less accusatory, but no less annoyed. "it's not just about running by, alright? it's the way you look at me. like you're always waiting for something."

you paused, taking a moment to process her words. you tried to read her, but she had the same expression as before, guarded and defensive. her posture was relaxed, but her eyes were sharp.

was she really this caught up in a casual interaction with someone she thought was obsessed with her?

"i'm not 'waiting' for anything," you replied before brushing past her, putting your headphones back in, and jogging out of the courtyard towards the street.

over the next week, doona's presence became hard to ignore. she had a way of appearing at just the right moment—whether it was passing you in the hallway or casually lounging on her balcony as you stepped out for air.

her presence was like a constant shadow, always hovering just out of reach but never quite out of mind. you couldn't deny that her mysterious aura intrigued you, but you weren't about to give her the satisfaction of knowing that.

each time you crossed paths, whether she was perched on the balcony with a cigarette or standing in the doorway as you passed by, she had that same intense, unreadable gaze. it was like she was trying to figure you out, but at the same time, she never seemed to want to make the first move.

you, however, had other things on your mind—your routine, your runs, the work that needed to get done. doona wasn't a part of that, no matter how much she seemed to want to be. you kept your head down, trying to block out the distraction that was her presence.

but one day, when you returned home after work, still dressed in dress pants and a black button-up shirt, you saw doona sitting outside.

you hesitated for a second, unsure if she'd approach or if you should just keep walking. but before you could make up your mind, she called out to you.

"hey."

you stopped, caught off guard by the lack of confrontation this time. she wasn't blocking your path or looking at you like you were some strange specimen. she was just... there. waiting.

"are you going to keep ignoring me, or do you actually want to talk?" her tone wasn't harsh this time, just curious.

for a moment, you felt a flash of irritation. who did she think she was, acting like she had the right to dictate when you should talk to her? you had enough of these mind games. you glanced over at her, seeing her kicking her feet outwards like a child.

she wasn't smoking this time, and she wasn't giving you that intimidating, piercing stare either. instead, her eyes were warm, and there was a small, inviting smile on her face.

something in your stomach twisted slightly, but you managed to hold yourself together. you stepped forward, crossing your arms, but your stance was more relaxed now, less defensive than before. "what's this about, doona?"

she leaned back against the fence, leaning back on her arms and tilting her head slightly. "i don't know. maybe i was wrong about you."

"wrong about me?" you repeated, confused. "what do you mean?"

doona let out a sigh, her gaze flicking down to the ground before meeting yours again. "i misjudged you. thought you were... obsessed or something."

a soft chuckle escaped you, and you raised an eyebrow, still unsure if you were understanding correctly. "and now?"

her stomach growled audibly before she could answer; doona's eyes flicked down, a faint blush coloring her cheeks as she ran a hand through her hair, clearly embarrassed.

you couldn't help but chuckle at her. "lucky for you, i've got leftovers from work," you said, tapping the backpack you had slung over your shoulder, which contained a portion of the evening's meals from your restaurant job.

"leftovers?" doona raised an eyebrow. "what, you think i look like i'm starving?"

"maybe not starving," you said, "but it's not like you're going to turn down free food." you held out the bag, shaking it slightly, almost teasing her.

she eyed it for a moment, then pushed herself off the fence, moving toward you with a slow, deliberate step. "you're lucky you're offering," she muttered, taking the bag from you with a slight smirk. "i wasn't going to beg for your charity."

"right," you said, shaking your head. "just take it, doona."

for a second, she seemed to hesitate, as if weighing whether to offer a witty remark, but instead she just muttered a quick thanks, her fingers brushing yours as she took the bag.

the next evening, when you returned from work again, there she was, sitting by the same spot, her eyes trained on her feet. she didn't seem to notice your approach until your foot scraped against the concrete.

this time, she didn't wait for you to say anything. the moment she saw you, she stood up and walked toward you, eyes gleaming.

"got any leftovers today?" she asked, cutting straight to the point.

you were taken aback for a moment. had she really come just for food? "still hungry, huh?" you asked, grinning despite yourself.

"very," she replied, with that same smirk you were starting to recognize all too well.

you shrugged, reaching for your backpack and pulling out another container. "here, take it."

days passed, and each night when you came home, doona was there, waiting for more of your leftovers. her presence had become a routine, like a weird, unspoken agreement between the two of you. you'd offer the food, she'd take it with little fanfare, and sometimes, if you were lucky, she'd stay for a little conversation.

one evening, your manager practically forced you to stay late, almost two hours after your shift had ended. when you finally arrived home, exhausted and hungry, doona wasn't waiting for you. it was late, so you don't know why you would expect her to be there.

but as you made your way up the stairs and towards your apartment, you noticed something odd. a faint sound—footsteps. someone moving quickly, almost purposefully. you paused, glancing around.

there she was.

doona stood at the foot of your building, her eyes scanning the space like she was looking for something—or someone. her gaze locked onto you the moment you stepped into view, and for the briefest of moments, there was something almost sheepish in her expression.

you stopped in your tracks, the exhaustion from your late shift quickly replaced by a flicker of amusement. "i didn't think you'd be waiting tonight," you said, adjusting the strap of your backpack, almost expecting her to snap back with some witty retort.

she didn't. instead, she bit her lip, her eyes darting around as if unsure of herself. "i thought you might have forgotten," she said with a small shrug.

you blinked, the words catching you off guard. "forgot?"

"yeah." she looked down at her feet for a moment before meeting your eyes again. "the food. i've... been getting used to it."

a weird, inexplicable tug in your chest made you pause.

"i haven't forgotten," you replied, your tone a little lighter. "i just got stuck at work longer than usual. but i brought something for you."

you opened your bag; instead, it wasn't the usual takeout you usually brought her. instead, you pulled out a small cake—chocolate with rich frosting and a simple "happy birthday" written on top in delicate icing.

doona blinked in surprise, her eyes widening a little. "what... is this?"

"it's your birthday, isn't it?" you asked with a small, teasing smile. "i figured you'd appreciate something sweet, instead of leftovers for once."

she stared at the cake for a long moment, not even noticing you turning away and walking upstairs toward your bedroom, the door closing behind you with a soft click.

doona lingered by the doorway, still staring at the cake. something about the gesture touched her, and her mind raced with questions, but none of them would formulate into coherent words.

after a long, thoughtful pause, she made her way up the stairs with the cake in her hand. when she knocked on your door, you opened it, already anticipating her arrival. you weren't surprised to see her standing there, her expression unreadable as she walked past you, heading straight for your bed and setting the cake down on your desk.

you raised an eyebrow as she made herself at home, flopping down on your bed without a care in the world. it was a little jarring, considering how much she had thrown off the idea of getting close to you just a few weeks ago. but there she was, casually reclining on your bed, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

you stood by the door, not quite sure what to say. "you just walked in without even asking?"

she shrugged, her eyes not leaving yours. "it's not like you're going to stop me."

"what makes you so sure?"

"you wouldn't have let me in otherwise."

that was a fair point. you sighed, moving to unbutton your work shirt, but instead of heading to your closet, you stayed near the door, keeping a safe distance from her. "what do you want?" you asked, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

"i just wanted to see if you missed me," she answered, her voice unexpectedly soft, though laced with that playful challenge. her gaze held yours, and for a second, you could have sworn there was a hint of affection in her expression.

you swallowed, breaking the gaze and looking away. you didn't want her to catch the flush creeping across your cheeks.

doona smirked, watching the way your fingers fumbled with the buttons on your shirt, the way you tried so hard not to show any sign of vulnerability. you chuckled, though there was a hint of nervousness in your laugh.

"miss you?" you took a few steps further into the room but kept your distance, not wanting to make the moment feel too awkward. "you've been showing up for leftovers, and now you're asking if i miss you?"

doona raised an eyebrow, which dropped when she let out a sigh, glancing around your room. it was her first time ever being up here. "you looked for me tonight," she muttered. "i didn't think you cared if i was around or not."

you paused, the weight of her words hanging in the air. for a moment, you felt exposed, like she had somehow cracked through the barriers you'd carefully put up around your thoughts and emotions. you'd been so intent on brushing her off, pretending that her presence didn't matter, that you hadn't realized how much she'd started to occupy your mind.

"i didn't look for you," you said quickly, though you weren't entirely sure if you believed it yourself. "i just—" you rubbed the back of your neck, averting your eyes, not wanting to meet hers. you took a deep breath, forgetting about taking off your work clothes and instead focused on trying to maintain your composure.

doona's gaze softened slightly as she watched your struggle to keep your cool. she could tell you were trying to downplay the shift in your emotions, but it wasn't working. there was a crack in your facade, and she was starting to notice it.

"right," she said, her voice dropping into something softer, more teasing than before.

you shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of your neck again as your eyes flicked to the cake you had given her earlier. for some reason, the sweetness of the gesture now felt like it was hanging over both of you, making everything feel more real, more vulnerable. you had never meant for this to become more than just a simple exchange. leftovers. a casual moment. yet here she was, in your room, in your personal space, making things feel... complicated.

"i didn't expect you to be here," you muttered, trying to sound indifferent but failing. "i didn't think you'd care if i gave you a cake or not."

doona let out a soft, almost wistful laugh. "you really are bad at this, aren't you?"

the way she said it caught you off guard. there was something affectionate in her tone, something beyond just teasing. you had never thought she would soften up like this, not after all the weird tension that had built up between you two. but there it was.

you swallowed, still not quite sure how to handle the shift in the air. it was no longer about leftovers, no longer about the small interactions. she was making you confront something you hadn't expected to feel—maybe even something you hadn't wanted to feel.

"doona..." you started, but she cut you off before you could finish.

"stop overthinking it," she said with a small, half-smile. "i'm not here to make you uncomfortable. not really. i just... want to see how far you'll go."

"go where?" you asked, still confused but unable to stop the questions from rising in your chest. "what do you want from me?"

she sat up from your bed, the air between you two thickening with every word. "i just want to know if you're more than the girl who gives me leftovers. are you?"

her gaze was intense now, and her words hung in the air, a challenge and an invitation all at once. you didn't have an answer, and you didn't know what she was hoping for. you just knew that whatever this was—whatever you two were turning into—it was no longer as simple as it had been when she first asked for leftovers.

she stood up from your bed, her hands falling to the buttons of your shirt, her eyes never leaving yours. you felt the soft cotton of your shirt, now being unbuttoned by her, slipping off your shoulders as she leaned in closer.

her fingers traced along the lines of your collarbones, slowly, gently, a small, amused smile playing on her lips. it was such a gentle touch, such a light caress, yet you couldn't help the way your breath caught in your throat, the way your heart skipped a beat.

she tilted her head slightly, her smile growing as she watched you, the intensity of her gaze making it clear that she was enjoying this. enjoying seeing you get flustered, enjoying seeing you react to her touch.

and then, her hand moved to your hip, and she pulled you closer, pressing her lips against yours.

you could feel your pulse quicken as the kiss deepened, her fingers digging into your hip, her other hand reaching up and tangling in your hair, tugging slightly. as she pulled you closer, you could feel her body pressing against yours, her breath mingling with yours, your mind going blank as her tongue swiped over your lips, tasting, teasing.

you hadn't expected this—hell, you didn't even know if you were ready for it. but doona wasn't giving you a chance to overthink. she was just there, and all you could do was follow her lead.

when the kiss broke, you found yourself looking into her eyes. they were dark and full of want and something else, too. you swallowed, feeling your stomach twist with a mixture of nerves and anticipation.

doona leaned in again; this time you didn't hesitate, kissing back with the same intensity and hunger she was pouring into you, her lips soft and insistent against yours, while her arms dangled around your neck.

the kiss deepened again, your hands fell to her waist, and doona began walking backwards; you followed her like a puppy on a leash, falling on top of her as her back hit your bed. her eyes were half-closed, but they were still looking at you. she ran her hands up and down your sides, caressing you. her touch was light, but you felt it go right through you. doona smiled up at you, her hands going to the hem of your shirt and lifting it up, her fingers grazing your skin as she pulled the material up over your head.

her hands fell to your core, fingers trailing against your stomach. her touch was making you shiver, sending waves of pleasure through you.

you bit your lip and closed your eyes, focusing on her touch, looking down to see a singular finger moving along the top of your pants, tracing the outline of your belt, teasing. she was taking her time, exploring your body, watching and listening to your reactions. it was making you painfully hard, and you wanted nothing more than to have her fingers wrap around you.

finally, doona moved her hands back up and unbuckled your belt, sliding it out of the loops and tossing it aside. then, she popped the button on your pants and lowered the zipper, sliding your jeans down, exposing your black boxers.

she was gazing at you, her pupils blown wide with lust. doona licked her lips. she was waiting for you to say something. but all you could do was nod and kiss her.

her tongue slipped into your mouth, and you moaned into her mouth, the sound muffled by her lips. doona's hand was in the front of your boxers, rubbing your cock through the material, feeling how hard you were. your hands gripped the sheet beneath you, and you took in a sharp breath.

you let out a grunt as her hand moved under the waistband of your boxers, wrapping around your shaft, squeezing and stroking. "wait," you said, breaking the kiss. you pulled back a little and looked at her. "let me help you."

she bit her lip, nodding, letting go of your cock. you sat down on the bed, kicking your pants away, and watched as she slid off her own pants, her hips raising from the bed before lowering again.

doona had you in a spell, your eyes glued to her every movement; you wondered if she was aware of the effect she had on you. she was wearing a pair of black lace panties, which contrasted beautifully with her creamy skin. your gaze lingered on her breasts, which were covered by a coordinating bra.

she lay back down, her hair fanning out on the pillow. you couldn't stop staring.

"see something you like?" she teased.

you nodded, crawling back on top of her, afraid that any words that left your mouth would make her change her mind.

instead, you kissed her again, one hand cupping her cheek, the other sliding behind her back, deftly unclasping her bra. you felt her body shiver as you slid the straps off her shoulders, and the garment fell away, exposing her breasts.

"you're so beautiful," you murmured. she smiled, pulling you closer.

you lowered your head and began kissing her neck, working your way down to her breasts, licking and sucking on her nipples, making them harden under your touch. the soft sounds of her moans only encouraged you further, along with the grip she had on your shoulders, pulling you closer to her.

her hands tangled in your hair as she whispered, "don't stop."

you moved lower, kissing her stomach and then her thighs. anywhere your lips touched, she shivered with pleasure.

your fingers hooked into the waistband of her panties, pulling them off her legs. you were staring at her now, more than ever, taking in her naked form, her body flushed and warm, her chest rising and falling as she breathed heavily, her eyes locked onto yours.

you moved forward, settling between her legs, spreading them open, your hands gripping her hips. "please," she whimpered. "i need you."

you pressed your face against her thigh, kissing it softly, your hands gripping her thighs firmly as you trailed kisses up towards her core. she arched her back, silently begging for more, her fingers tangling in your hair as she guided you closer to where she needed you most.

"stop being an ass," she whispered in frustration in her voice. "just give me what i want." you chuckled softly, then moved higher, your tongue finding her wet folds. her breath hitched, and her hand tightened in your hair, a low moan escaping her lips as you gave her exactly what she desired.

you lapped at her cunt, your tongue moving up and down her slit, tasting her. she was writhing beneath you, her back arching off the bed, her pulling at your hair so much it was starting to hurt. her moans grew louder, more desperate, "oh, god..." she moaned, her voice thick with arousal. "that feels so good."

you continued to lick her, your tongue sliding up and down her slit, teasing her, before you focused on her clit, flicking it with the tip of your tongue. she was panting now, her legs trying their hardest to trap your head between them as she bucked against your mouth.

"fuck... oh, fuck..." she was breathing hard, her moans increasing, her thighs squeezing tighter around your head. you knew she was about to cum, and you didn't want to disappoint her, so you quickened your pace, swirling your tongue around her clit before sucking on it gently. she let out a loud gasp, her legs tightening around your head, her back arching as she came hard.

her whole body shook with the force of her orgasm, her nails digging into the sheets beneath her as she rode out her pleasure. after a moment, her grip on you loosened, and she let out a long, content sigh.

you looked up at her, a smile on your lips, and she grinned back at you. "see," she said breathlessly. "i knew you could be a good girl." you wanted to roll your eyes and disregard the pet name, but your body's response was instantaneous, and you felt yourself grow twitch as the words escaped her lips.

you climbed up her body and kissed her, allowing her to taste herself on your lips. "do you want more?" you whispered against her lips, and she nodded. "i want you inside me."

you moved to the edge of the bed, sitting down as you pulled off your boxers, revealing your cock, fully erect, glistening with precum. the dark-haired girl smiled seductively as she crawled towards you, straddling your lap and guiding you inside her with a moan of pleasure.

the sensation of being enveloped by her warmth was overwhelming, and you both moaned in unison when doona's hip began moving achingly slow. she was trying to get a reaction out of you, and you were so lost in the moment that you could barely form a coherent thought.

your eyes left the sight of your member buried deep inside her to meet her intense gaze, your mouth agape and your hands gripping her hips tightly. "pretty," she muttered, her voice husky, kissing the outline of your jaw before trailing down your neck.

your mouth took in her breast, savoring the taste of her skin as she arched into your touch, a soft gasp escaping her lips. she started riding you faster, her hips rolling in a rhythm that was better than any song she had ever sung.

"doona," you managed to gasp out, your hands gripped her waist tightly, your mouth falling against her shoulder, trying to contain yourself.

you didn't know what the two of you were going to be after this, if she would continue playing that stupid game she loved so much, if you could just stay as friends, or if you could somehow get closer, but for now, none of that mattered. all that mattered was her and her soft body.

her hands dug into your hair, and you buried your face in her neck, breathing in her scent. her pussy felt so tight and wet, and you groaned against her neck, your teeth biting at her skin. she started moving faster, and you knew she was close. a loud whine left her throat, and her fingers tightened in your hair, yanking you back to look at her.

"y/n," she whined. "fuck, please. are you close?"

you nodded.

"fuck, baby. you feel so good. come with me, y/n. please." you reached down and circled her clit with your thumb, and her mouth dropped open, her head thrown back as her entire body tensed, her pussy tightening around your dick, pulling you over the edge with her. you groaned, pressing your face into her neck as your cum filled her.

she collapsed on top of you, and the two of you caught your breath.

[derww]

for @heartcircus.

its not like zam actually tries to talk: he stands, carefully holding his notes, just staring at spawn, noticing one familiar face after another, feeling like all thoughts in his head became too heavy, and then just. turns around. and leaves.

you know, all of the princezam nature is to oppose, is to fight. but the last seasons taught him about just how important it is to appreciate people around, to do not only for yourself but for them too. and just today he promised to not interfere with mapicc's plans.

he can't fight, but he can't support. so he leaves. first time in many days, he has no words to say anymore.

all of it is just too familiar, and memories of the past cloud his mind and make every part of his body weak and stale. story repeats itself, and hed hate to see it continue and weave hemself into it, so he does not. i need some time to be alone, he says to derapchu and goes almost to the border – to sunny hill, surrounded by snow-capped mountains.

this time something in it reminds him too heavy. he doesn't build a castle. instead, he builds a hut.

it's not so bad, he says to himself, laying firewood in the stove, it's not season 4 anymore, noone will backdoor the server and mapicc will stop. sooner or later. i cant fight him, but i dont have to. everything will end. and then ill go back.

he feels so fucking tired. only now he understands just how tired he is. so he lies down. and sleeps. and sleeps. and sleeps.

it never gets better; the tombstone of exhaustion only presses him down harder and harder. he sleeps and sees dreams. he cooks himself food and eats it, feeling no taste. he plants flowers and takes care of them. sometimes he talks to derapchu. he never tells where he is.

only in so slow time he suddenly understands just how misplaced he is. he's patch on patch, stitched over and over again with scraps of fabric, no matter how worn or unsuitable they may be, over and over and over, stitched with scars running through his spine. he is a trace of something forgotten, overlaid by images of other people and experiences, accustomed to it so much that it feels like himself. he sleeps and sees no nightmares. maybe it's for the worse.

so far from anyone, without any real goal, Immersed deep into himself, he easily starts missing hours, days, and weeks. time doesn't feel real, and he, at the end, too. people write him. sometimes he answers. he never agrees to meet.

i'll go back when the mawn thing will be over; he promises to derap but hardly believes in it himself. something makes him feel like he has nothing to come back to. this house is also not his home, but it's at least silent here.

derap persists, but in the end he gives up too. and, in the end, he is left alone. he grows dandelions in the field around. when an unfamiliar flower appears in the field, he does not prevent it from growing nearby.

he blinks and feels like he missed a whole week. sometimes he just lies there and doesn't move. he doesn't feel the softness of the pillow, the springy floor under his feet, and, after all, he doesn't feel pain either. a ringing void freezes in his head. he feels tired, but sleep doesn't help.

he missed a moment something changes.

something about how the world exists around him. something about how forest smells like. something about how the grass is rustling under his feet. something is wrong, but he barely makes himself care. it doesn't matter, not really, but time still slows down. he slowly dips his hands into the loose earth, feeling the coolness and texture. nothing here belongs to him, but that's not the point. he plants some poppy seeds. one of them ends up in a pot on his windowsill.

i'm fully okay, he says to derap while not being able to remember what he ate today, i'm just in retirement for now. i will go back to you, i promise. i just need some time.

the boards under his feet creak differently. sometimes something whistles, like an unfamiliar bird. sometimes it seems to him that the grass next to the house is crushed.

isn't this a true peaceful life, he asks himself. to run away from everything and be alone. in the end, there is no way to harm anyone if you are alone. he feels like he was running a marathon all this time and only now stopped.

he adds blue orchids, but their blue is drowning in the red. he takes the smallest orchid inside and turns it into a magnificent flower. In a moment of weakness, he takes the cornflower inside. the next one turns out to be an orange tulip. he doesn't comprehend it.

is it what i wanted in season four, he asks himself. this place strangely reminds him of it. he reminds himself of it, too, allowing himself to feel anything. he still can't decide if it's a good thing. 

the rain is pounding on his window. someone is knocking on his coffin lid. poppies fill the whole field.

i miss them, he writes on a paper. but i can't go back yet. not while spawn is someone's. not while i have to fight my best friend.

when he comes back from the forest, his house still keeps warmth. his footsteps are echoing, and his diary is open by the wind. i miss being able to decide, this page says. i was good at it once.

he doesn't feel sick. he feels dump. the green in his cape is starting to fade.

sometimes it seems to me that i won't be able to overcome this, he writes. but I know i can handle it. i always can. i will overcome anything. i just can't give up.

the forest smells of pine and fir, and it has not been lost in the trees for a long time, wandering far beyond the edge. the forest always brings him back when he wants to. it never holds him by force and generously supplies him with tree cones and wet moss. he always comes back because he has nowhere to go.

this time, when he comes home, he has a visitor. he is not surprised: he calls them by name, nods, makes tea from fir needles.

mapicc rests his head on his elbows.

– lets go home, – he says. zam shakes his head.

– to mawn? – he asks.

mapicc squints.

– yes.

– i won't.

– why.

zam looks at him almost regretfully.

– because i refuse to fight you, – he answers simply, – and i will have no choice but to.

– even fighting me is much better than- than whatever this is, – mapicc remarks irritably.

– i don't want to fight you ever again, – zam signs, – i know you like me as your enemy. i do not.

– you don't have to fight me. join me.

– i hate everything you've created, – he answers with pity, – and i can't change it. please, leave me alone. do whatever you want to do. and one day i'll be able to go back.

– i dont understand why you oppose it so much. you haven't even given it a try. is it, like, that bad? people love it; you can love it too.

zam shakes his head.

– did you really come to convince me to love what I hate?

– i came to invite you to my thing.

– not this time.

in the end, mapicc still leaves. only after that zam takes his floor apart to find a secret passage under the boards. it leads to a dug-out underground room filled with anything. there are books everywhere. an unmade bed. and a pot with a dandelion in the middle of the makeshift countertop.

mapiccs room, says the sign. he adds a glow ink to it and looks around again.

for an infinitely long moment he considers just starting to live here.

[luciferanalyzestar]

I was cleaning and reorganizing my room, but I am taking a break to watch this. Also, what is going on with the thumbnails? Since Full Moon, they are getting more and more cluttered. Less is more.

Live reaction time, sad yippee.

That moment when you realize you have a WHOLE ASS DAUGHTER!

She is so real for this. Stella's VA always slays her lines, love her performance.

My new favorite background characters!! In love with the waiter imp's design. The background characters always look better than the main/speaking characters.

Okay, Moxxie and Millie are just yapping and being horny for each other, and I am just confused. What the fuck is happening? Visual noise. The M&Ms are my least favorite canon couple. maybe I will like them when Millie gets character outside of her husband.

Me when I buy too much stuff.

The joke is: She is homophobic. Since this sinner's situation is similar to what is going on with Blitz/Stolas/Stella? Is Stella going to be reveal to be homophobic? /lhj

Yes Via, your father is horny fetishizer who is a liar. Stolas is a bad father for not caring about his daughter and her wellbeing. He only cares about Blitz and his sexual desires. If my father or mother pulled something like this, I would not talk to them again. This is straight up abandonment.

When a stan sees a negative opinion about the Hellaverse.

Finally, Stolas says what we all been thinking, HE IS FUCKING STUPID. I guess being poor help wake up Stolas' braincells.

What in the fanfic? Anyway, the guy is a cheater, but they would have to kill the kids too. This does not seem like a Murder Family situation where the whole family was sick and twisted.

You are pregnant. What in the double fanfic?

Blitz throwing the sinner out the window made me giggle. Love jokes like that. See, it is possible for this show to be funny with swearing up a storm.

I hate Andy more than Stolas. Andy deserved that shit. Stolas beating the brakes off of Andy made me laugh. Why wouldn't Stolas be cool instead of being a UWU gay man?

What in the yaoi?

Loona is like a Dragon Ball character, how many forms does she got? This is for all the middle school wolf kids. The multiple eyes look dumb though.

I no longer like men. I'm homophobic now. Helluva made me hate men. /j

YES, VIA TELL HIS ASS OFF!!!!!! GET HIS ASS!!! RIP HIM A NEW ONE!!!! On an off note, Via's lines sound weird. I'm listening to the show via a Bluetooth speaker, and it sounds likes her VA was recording her lines in a closet to something. Especially the "chance to leave" part, I do not know I would be tripping.

Anyway, there is nothing wrong with cutting out toxic family members. Stolas was too busy getting his asshole tickled by Blitz to spend time with his daughter whose life was crumbling around her. I am tired of Stolas' bitch ass crying. Shut up. You should have drowned in that bathtub.

Loona has friends!!!??? I wish that was an episode of Loona finding friends instead of cringe episodes for people who have not grown out of the fujoshi middle school phase.

This show is jumping the shark. You know the writers are running out of ideas when they make one of the characters pregnant. At least make a male character pregnant, SWITCH IT UP!

Omg, this hellhound is like me for real, I own a pair of cheery earrings. Her design is peak like the other background characters. Someone please save her from this show.

YEP! :D Blitz misses Barbie so much that she has not made an appearance since. She really hates his ass that she removed herself from the show. I hope Blitz trips, taking Stolas with him and they both die and go into a better show with better writing.

RATING TIME: 4.5/10

I had more time cleaning and reorganizing my room than watching this episode. I felt nothing watching certain parts. The only moments I cared for was the ones with Via because of the leak storyboards of this episode. It seems like nothing was changed unlike what happen to Ghostfuckers.

Will I be watching season three? Viv said that season 3 take a while to be released and it is going to be 15 episodes long.

That would be around 2026. I do not know if I want to be watching this show when I am 25 years old. The writing choices of this show are baffling. I think (do not quote me on this) but Viv said season three will focus on the Ars Goetia in an interview which sounds boring. I do not care about their rich classist society. Is Helluva going to be Bridgerton but in Hell?

I can see myself watching Hazbin when I am 25 because there are AUs that I can indulge in when the show's writing gets worse and has like 1000 plots going on, if I do not care for one, I can pay attention to another one. Helluva's main plot point is just Stolas and Blitz, and I am bored of them. I dislike both of them as characters and as a couple/

I don't care for the rest of IMP, Fizz, Ozzie, Bee, Sallie Mae, Striker, and etc and their storylines. The only character I like is Mammon and Via and they do not appear that much.

Talking about this show is a chore. I had fun watching this show back in 2022 (I'm late to the fandom) but now, it is just a chore to sit though. The main plot is boring, and the side plots are the same recycle stuff. I have more fun reading the back label of shampoo bottles than watching this show.

[lvnleah]

Ooh for the potential Christmas fic for Bug could be something about the Christmas days like the dinners that we've seen the Arsenal teams have for a few years now??

Like just imagine this little one toddling along, picking what she wants on her dinner like 'this, and this, and this'

Or finding out what mistletoe is and clutching it in her little hand and running around, practically shoving it in all of the players' faces to get cheek kisses

I'm sure I'll think of so many more little scenarios, so glad you're writing more for her ����😂

— bug’s christmas dinner | lotte wubben-moy 🎄

this is part of a double update! bug meeting santa will be out later on this evening :)

It was Christmas dinner day at training and possibly your favourite part about tagging along with Lotte. Christmas music played in the background, the smell of roast turkey and stuffing filled the air, and the tables were decorated with tinsel and little Christmas crackers. Lotte walked in, holding your tiny hand, and you stared wide-eyed at all the colorful decorations.

“Excited for Christmas dinner, Bug?” Lotte asked, crouching down so she was at your level.

You nodded eagerly, the reindeer antlers on your head bouncing as you hopped in place. “I wan’ turkey, Mummy! An’ gravy! But no green things,” you added firmly, wrinkling your nose.

Lotte laughed, taking your hand and guiding you to the canteen. She grabbed a small plate for you, balancing it in one hand while holding you steady with the other. “Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here.”

As you peeked up at the food, your nose crinkled. “What’s dat?” you asked, pointing suspiciously at a tray of roasted Brussels sprouts.

“Brussels sprouts,” Lotte said, glancing at the server. “They’re very healthy, want to try some?”

You shook your head furiously. “No. Don’ wan’ those.”

“What about carrots?” Lotte asked, moving down the line.

You crossed your arms, thinking hard. “Uhhh…only one.”

Beth appeared next to you, holding her plate and grinning. “Are you being a picky eater? You’ve been spending too much time with Leah! She’s just as bad.”

“Oi!” Leah called from another table, overhearing. “Don’t drag me into this!”

Lotte laughed, scooping one carrot onto your plate. “It’s true, though. You’re just as stubborn as Bug.”

“I’m not ‘tubborn!” you declared, clearly misunderstanding who they were talking about. “I’m Bug!”

That sent both Beth and Lotte into fits of laughter. Once the giggles calmed, Lotte helped you pick out the rest of your food: turkey, a scoop of mashed potatoes, and a bit of stuffing after a lot of coaxing. No peas, though—you made that very clear.

With your plate ready, Lotte carried it over to the table where she was sitting with Alessia, Leah, Lia, and Emily. She helped you up into your chair, your little legs swinging as you dug into the turkey first.

Dinner was lively. Leah teased Emily about her terrible Christmas jumper, Alessia told you all about how she and Lotte celebrated Christmas in America, and Lotte kept cutting your turkey into smaller pieces because you kept repeating, “Mummy, it’s too big!”

When your plate was clean—except for the single carrot you’d moved around but never touched—you leaned back in your chair and tapped Lotte. “All done!”

“Good job, bug,” Lotte said, wiping a bit of mashed potato off your cheek.

“I open my cracker now?” you asked, bouncing in your seat.

“Of course!” Lotte handed you the bright red Christmas cracker, helping you hold one end while she pulled the other. It popped loudly, making you giggle, and out fell a tiny spinning top and a paper crown.

“Look, Mummy!” you squealed, holding up the top. “It spins!”

“Oh that’s so cool, bug!” Lotte said, smiling warmly. She placed the paper crown on your head, tilting it slightly to fit over your reindeer antlers.

Without hesitation, you slid down from your chair, clutching the spinning top. “I’m gon’ show everyone!”

You made your rounds, waddling over to the next table where Katie, Caitlin, Kyra and some of the staff were sitting. “Look what I got!” you announced proudly, holding up the spinning top.

Katie gasped dramatically. “No way! Is that a magic top?”

You nodded, spinning it on the table for her and everyone to see. “It goes fast!”

“Very fast!” Caitlin agreed, matching your excitement, “That’s so cool, Bug!”

Next, you ran to Viv and Beth’s table. “Beffy! Vivi! Look!”

Beth gasped, “Is that your Christmas present from the cracker?”

“Yep!” you said as Viv lifted you up onto her lap before spinning it again. “It’s magic!”

Viv smiled softly. “So cool, bug! Did you enjoy your dinner?”

You nodded proudly, swinging your legs back and forth on Viv’s lap. “I ate all of it!”

Beth raised an eyebrow, “Even the carrot?”

Your face scrunched up, and you crossed your arms. “No silly Beffy! Don’ wan’ the carrot.”

That sent both women into laughter, Viv pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Fair enough, Bug. Carrots aren’t for everyone.”

Beth leaned over the table, pretending to whisper. “You know, if you eat your carrots, you grow big and strong—like me!”

You giggled, hopping off Viv’s lap as you darted toward the next table, spinning top clutched tightly in your little hand.

You made your way around all the other tables, showing off your spinning top to everyone you knew. Each player gave you just as much enthusiasm as the last, clapping and cheering as if you’d just won a big prize. By the time you got back to Lotte, you were ready for a nap. 

When you returned to Lotte, you climbed straight into her lap, tucking your spinning top into your pocket and resting your head against her chest.

“Have fun, Bug?” she asked, wrapping her arms around you as she leaned back in her chair.

You nodded, letting out a content sigh. “’M tired now, Mummy.”

“I bet you are,” Lotte said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You’ve been running around like a little reindeer all day.”

Alessia, sitting beside Lotte, reached over to gently fix your slightly lopsided paper crown. “Bug, I think you’ve talked to more people today than I have all season.”

You grinned sleepily. “’Cause I got a magic top.”

You yawned, cuddling closer to Lotte. “Mummy, can we go home now? I wan’ snuggle.”

Lotte’s heart melted at the sleepy tone in your voice. “Of course, Bug,” she whispered, smoothing a hand over your hair. “Let’s say goodbye to everyone first, okay?”

You nodded but didn’t move from her lap. Instead, the rest of the team started making their way over to say their goodbyes.

Beth was the first, crouching down beside you. “Bye, Bug. Make sure you take good care of your magic top, alright?”

“I will,” you mumbled, your eyes already fluttering shut.

One by one, the team said their goodbyes. By the time the last person had waved, you were fully asleep, your tiny hand clutching Lotte’s shirt.

“She’s wiped out,” Alessia said softly, smiling at the sight.

Lotte nodded, standing carefully so she didn’t wake you. “She’s had a big day. Christmas dinner is serious business for her.”

With that, Lotte carried you out to the car, your reindeer antlers slipping slightly as your head rested against her shoulder. As she buckled you into your car seat, she couldn’t help but smile at your peaceful expression.

“Goodnight, Bug,” she whispered, tucking a blanket over you in the back seat. “Mummy loves you.”

[dragon-made-of-cats]

Helpful tips for dipping for the least amount of mess:

Leave the chocolate as cool as possible while still being fluid enough to dip. It will set faster and also have less chocolate running off the cookie

Hold the cookie upside down (thumb on the top, pointer finger on the bottom) and "scoop" some chocolate on just the top of the cookie with as little chocolate as possible on the bottom

If that technique gets chocolate all over your fingers (very possible if you're just starting out) you can also try dipping them straight and (lightly) scraping the excess chocolate off on the rim of the dipping container. This will probably leave more crumbs in the chocolate but unless you're planning on storing the chocolate for a long time that's not that big of a problem

This might feel counter-intuitive BUT dip the cookie multiple times without fully pulling it out of the chocolate. This pulls the excess chocolate off the cookie.

Another option: choose a much bigger bowl than you need for melting the chocolate/dipping and just shake the excess off after dipping. Probably the easiest, but kinda messy in itself

After dipping I just put the cookies down on some parchment paper, either on a baking tray or some other kind of tray or a big plate/platter, doesnt really matter. I often re-use the paper and tray I already used for baking them

Pro tip: when setting them down very slightly slide them in the direction of the chocolate covered side, this will also keep the chocolate from pooling

If you want to up your cookie game a bit you could also temper the chocolate. It keeps it nice and shiny, makes it set faster and keeps it from sticking to your fingers. Totally not a must, tho

Source: worked in multiple bakeries and collectively dipped probably around a ton of cookies around christmas time in the span of 7+ years or so bc i live in a country where many traditional cookies are dipped in chocolate

I hope the instructions are somewhat understandable, I'm always open for any baking-related questions tho

It's Christmas cookie time here goes

Hot damn!!

I've never done dipped cookies before I'm nervous

So far so good

All done!!

VERDICT: never made this recipe before literally just grabbed a chocolate ginger cookies recipe off the Google results. OUTSTANDING.

Moderately time consuming between having to chill the dough and the dipping but results SO indulgent. Unbaked dough had an almost boozy quality in spite of containing no alcohol. Baked for directed 12 minutes and they puffed up and sank exactly as described.

Warmly recommend making these for Ur winter celebration of choice!!

Notes on recipe:

I left the spice quantities alone as it was my first time baking the recipe and I think they're just right but I'm a lightweight. Used black treacle in place of molasses (not typically sold in supermarkets here) which was fine. Recipe recommends good baking chocolate for dipping, i used eating chocolate which was also fine.

Recipe unfortunately doesn't advise on how to set the chocolate without making a mess so here u go:

Put dipped cookies on cooling rack w some parchment paper underneath to catch drips

Wait until chocolate starts to set (I think mine was about 15 mins) and then remove from racks onto parchment to set fully

[safination]

If You Know, You Know.

Big Four Edition (❤️💙💚💛/ ❤️🦅🏹🐯) + One Extra

|Masterlist| Characters: Adam, Vox, Alastor, Lucifer, Charlie, Vaggie. x Reader (Separate) TLDR: Dates around the area with them A/N: Welcome to my dumpster of a mind, where I try to place our beloved Hazbin characters into four to five categories. Will I be explaining any of them? Probably not. Listen, if you know, then you already know. Also, I can't believe I'm falling into this stage as a creator in a fandom. You can take me out of my roots, but you cannot take my roots out of me. Fuck me, honestly. This is the most self-indulgent shit, ever. If anyone irl found out who I am, I would die. Like literally die. Please don't come for me. Yes, this is 100% playing into stereotypes, but it's all in good fun. Nothing I write here says anything about you as a person or a large body of people. Plss lang. Sige an po This is all in good fun, I promise T_T

Adam — 🏹

Come on, this is an easy one. This thing is practically writing himself. Adam would 100% be here. Hatid-Sundo si baby boy by kuya Drivers niya. I can imagine Adam doing such an obnoxious laugh and then going, "Ay, gagi!" ( plus points for the elitism and the momol in hidden spots. I've seen yourFreedomWall)

Adam would walk you around the buildings, especially if you can't go inside. Why is it so hard to sneak inside? He would constantly take you to that one really good burrito and taco place (If you know it, then you know.), and would go to the Power Mac to buy stuff for you because why not.

Vox — ❤️

Hear me out a little. This is Vox we're talking about. So, despite being the type who belongs in the 🦅, at the end of the day, this is still Vox. This holds true considering that . . . uh . . . debate (?) surrounding those who should be accepted into ❤️. While Vox could go with the 🦅, he would snatch up a spot in ❤️. (But like, this is isn't his fault. It really is the fault of the system in place, and we're all proud of Vox because it is a big honor to be here.) Like Adam, Vox would be Hatid-Sundo, and would hang out in UP Town most of the time.

Dates would Vox would include going to Gino's or Nono's or cracking open the books at Tyler's. It would take forever to get anywhere with him because he refuses to walk anywhere, and would either always be driven there or would book a Grab. Plus point for traffic, but you get to bond and talk with him during the traffic.

Alastor — 🏹

He doesn't like being an 🏹 despite majority of the people being really chill and cool. But it's most likely because he bumps into Adam. He's practically crawling up the wall. He sees the life of those in 🏹 and gets really confused at how they act. He rants to Rosie (who would be in the all girl's club) about it all the time. Unlike Adam, Alastor will hop off at Vito Cruz.

Dates around the bay area and MOA, honestly. He would make you listen to his radio broadcast that I do know they have. All four have their own organization. Alastor would take you to Star City, and would insist on walking there because it's walking distance daw, and tricycles are low key a scam there.

(Again, please, don't come for me. 🏹's are mostly chill but come on. You can't deny it. I've seen what the streets look like. I've seen the Power Mac. The aircons.True 🏹 would find it funny.)

Lucifer — ❤️

I don't need to explain why Lucifer would be here. Let's be fr. I will fight anyone who says otherwise.

But unlike Vox, Lucifer would take long walks with you around the oval and the Sunken Garden. Fuck it, I'm even bold enough to say that he would join the run club there if you were into that type of thing. You would eat fishballs and kikiam. There would be no kwek-kwek or balut tho. When you get tired, you and Lucifer would sit by the fountain with the Statue™. Lucifer would take jeepnys with you to get around. If you don't go there, majority of date time would be spent trying to find you a restroom to use.

Charlie — 🐯

I debated placing Charlier either with the maroons or the tigers, but ultimately decided that it would be nice for Charlie to be with the tigers. I don't know how to explain it. It just makes sense to me. Charlie would always have an umbrella with her because rain or shine or terrible rain, she would go.

Charlie will take you to paskuhan at the soccer field to see all the lights and the concert. The food dates around that area would go hard. Like seriously, damn. Charlie would constantly take you to Lover's Lane, and explain all the history of the buildings.

Vaggie — 💙💛/ All Girls

This post is supposed to feature, "the big four" but I don't care. I can do what I want. It's fitting that Vaggie would be somewhere where it's all girl. (That recently started accepting boys too. So that's nice.)

Dates with Vaggie would involve CBTL, but in Regis Center instead of UP Town. Sometimes, you would cross over to ❤️to find something to eat. Tricycle rides to get around, and Siomai would be such a constant in your dates.

[vikkirosko]

⚾️ Scout x Reader Oneshot Welcome back 🍗

Scout returned home in high spirits. There were many reasons for this. He would finally finish his job, he would see his family again, and he would see you again. And now you were sitting on the roof of the house where your apartments were, and just looking at the night sky, which was so very different from the one he was used to seeing over the years.

You've known each other for a long time. When you were both younger, you spent a lot of time together, running around the city, finding things to do. You watched him play baseball, Jeremy tried to teach you how to play a few times, and then you laughed together when you couldn't do it. He considered you his best friend, and for a long time he was sure of it.

When he started working as a mercenary, as soon as he had the opportunity, he got to the phone with Sniper and called you. You could talk for hours about nothing, and only when Sniper reminded him that it was time for them to leave, he was forced to interrupt your conversation. He told his colleagues about you, and the more they heard about you, the more they realized that Jeremy's feelings for you were different from friendly ones. Now he understood it himself.

Looking at you lying on the cold concrete next to him, he realized that he was really in love with you. He understood that he was in love with your smile, your laugh, the way you sang along to your favorite songs from the radio, how you took care of him when he was injured or ill. He loved everything about you, but it took him a long time to realize his own feelings, which now seemed so obvious that it began to seem ridiculous to him that it took him so long.

When you heard him laugh, you turned to him and smiled a little.

"Did you remember the joke? Will you tell me?"

Scout turned to you and smiled wider.

"I love you"

You looked at him in surprise, as if waiting for the moment when he would laugh and say that it was just a joke or say that he loves you as a friend, but when that moment did not come, a blush appeared on your cheeks.

"You're not joking?.."

"Nah, I'm being completely serious."

He smiled wider, feeling a blush appear on his cheeks. His heart was beating faster than usual. He was glad that he finally told you how he felt. However, his face showed surprise when you leaned forward a little and lightly kissed him on the lips. That kiss only lasted a couple of seconds, after which you pulled away, smiling at him sheepishly.

"I'm glad… I'm really happy about it…"

Jeremy leaned forward and hugged him tightly. When he felt your hands on his back, his smile widened.

"So we're together now?"

"It turns out that yes"

"That's cool! I am sure we will be happy together! We will live in a cozy house, visit our families, especially since my mother already knows you and for her you are already part of the family!"

You smiled softly as you listened to him talking quickly and enthusiastically about your future together.

"And the children! A few kids!"

You laughed softly, stroking his back.

"That sounds great…"

Silence fell between you again. Jeremy was happy that you two had such a wonderful future ahead of you.

"Hey, Jeremy…"

"Hmm?"

You kissed the tip of his nose and smiled.

"Welcome back"

Scout felt happy. For the first time in a long time, he felt truly happy. He felt like he was exactly where he should have been a long time ago.

[vaguely-concerned]

I've been picking mostly only the essential flirt options with lucanis in the romance so far (I've personally found the dynamic much more natural and mutual when you do that, more like forming a solid friendship slowly and inevitably becoming something else and less like you keep pushing on him and getting little back b/c he seemingly just gets overwhelmed and goes into freeze instead), and I think rye is a pretty hard person to read at the best of times even though he's been Down Real Bad from pretty early on and their chemistry as people is naturally really good. so the way the almost-kiss plays out in this playthrough feels a lot like it has the added layer of lucanis realizing that no but for sure rook is flirting and not just being kind or a good friend* it IS actually happening it's not just wishful/fearful thinking!!! and then uh. maybe going a bit too hard a bit too fast in all the excitement at that revelation haha

*in lucanis' defense he has seemingly literally never had a friend who wasn't his cousin-brother before, under those circumstances I suppose some confusion is extremely natural if not outright expected lmao

[henke-penke]

Slap Slap Revolution

Both Heather and Noah noticed Alejnadro's behavior in New York, and go about it in different way.

Noah becomes a bit more confrontational, I guess. Not antagonizing, just questions Alejnadro's friendly attitude toward the enemy team. (Like in canon but it actually goes somewhere). And like in canon, Alejandro will brush him off and say he's working an angle. Said angle being something Noah might've been able to figure out beforehand.

Meanwhile Heather becomes more pushy with Leshawna ("I know you see it too"). This, paired with some seemingly innocent comments from Alejandro, drives Leshawna up the wall and a fight breaks out. Only this time it's a verbal back and forth, which escalates to a physical back and forth.

Like in canon, Alejandro throws the game leading to Team Amazon's victory. And like in canon, Noah will comment on it, which is where it clicks for Eva.

Back on the plane, her and Noah have a meeting where they confirm to each other that yes, Alejandro is up to something, citing every observation they've made thus far.

And this, my friends, is out first elimination change. I don't know how DJ's rocking with his animal curse in this, but I do know that there's no way Lindsay would vote for someone who threw hands with Heather that doesn't make sense to me. So, DJ is eliminated and Leshawna stays.

The Am-AH-zon Race

Heather gets to be unhinged in this one, as a treat. Like she's not handling that fight with any sort of grace. And it is because of observing this that we get the first properly civil conversation between Courtney and Gwen. They're strangely sympathetic to Heather, but both agree to vote her off when they get the chance.

In economy, Lindsay and Leshawna have a conversation where Lindsay naively says she thought the fight was cool to which Leshawna will snap and say that it very much wasn't. She'll vent a bit about having been stressed out, which Lindsay will empathize with, referencing her own screaming at Heather back in season one. It ends with her giving the same pep-talk she gave DJ in canon.

(Leshawna will also mention something about wanting either herself, Heather, or Alejandro out of the game.)

Episode roughly plays out the same, just with unhinged Heather, less animosity toward Gwen because that was really weird, and Noah and Eva trying to be as discreet as possible while trying to figure out a plan on taking care of Alejandro.

Owen will still get left behind in the jingle, but it will be Eva going back for him. Alejandro might try and insist he do it but Eva hits him with that "I'll. Do. It." (let her be scary still)

I Can't Help Falling in Louvre

Team Amazon is in shambles. Sierra is upset at Cody for voting for her, but here she doesn't revert back to their old dynamic after his apology. Here, she stays mad at him. ("You'd think that after everything I've done for him he'd want to keep me around. I mean, hello! I could've helped him all the way to the finale!")

All in all there's just a bunch of tension running around.

Team Victory still goes to a tiebreaker, and Lindsay is the winner (as she should've have been in canon, also Heather is in the jury so yeet). Lindsay and Leshawna get to have a cute friendship moment at the elimination ceremony (Good luck, wish you could've stayed for longer, honestly I'm glad I don't have to be in this deathtrap any longer, etc)

Newf Kids On The Rock

It has finally clicked for Noah and Eva that they hold majority vote on their team. One small issue, every other member on their team likes Alejandro and they have the combined charisma of a wet paperbag. And unfortunately for them, the person currently crawling through the vent above them will not really help in that regard. Enter Heather !

She crawled up the vent like in canon. And meanwhile in first class, Courtney and Gwen are having their second civil conversation, rejoice. This one is a bit more tense, however, as it centers Duncan.

Back to the haters, Heather (who is only marginally calmer than before) will insist they team-up all three. Noah and Eva will hesitate and ask to think it over. Heather gives them to the end of the day.

All three teams make the relay, no "only the first two teams" bullshit.

Things seem to be going good until all hell breaks loose for Team Amazon. Courtney and Gwen, who've been dealing with tension all day, start arguing about who does and who doesn't have feelings for Duncan. Cody tries to defuse but they snap at him, Heather starts third-wheeling the argument just because, and Sierra is just watching like it's the most entertaining shit in the world ("omg watching it on TV is one thing but being there irl is SO much better!")

Team Chris takes the win (I don't think Lindsay could stomach kissing a cod. But, like she invited Tyler in the Amazon, Tyler will invite her to first class)

Noah and Eva turn down Heather's alliance offer.

Jamaica Me Sweat

Cody takes it upon himself to keep the team functional, starting with Sierra. They end up having a genuine conversation where Sierra apologises (ish she's not that self-aware yet) for crossing boundaries and they embark on the journey of bringing the team together, to varying levels of success.

Meanwhile, and in stark contrast, Team E-scope plus Owen are having fun ! Cute friendship moment because we all deserve it. However, sprinkled in here and there, are Noah and Eva trying to get the other two to catch the hints they're throwing about Alejandro being untrustworthy. These hints are not being caught. Instead Owen makes some big deal about how much he loves his friends, which is much appreciated by our emotionally constipated teenagers.

Plane crash. Both Owen and Izzy are carried away, but Owen is the one to be medically evacuated, and when Izzy comes back with the news Noah and Eva are both visibly upset. (And then in the background you see Alejandro subtly celebrating)

Alejandro sabotages the track and Lindsay is eliminated.

BUT befreo the episode ends, Courtney and Gwen apologize for the fight. Imma be real this scene would be hella awkward. Cute, but so awkward.

Fuck it,

World Tour but with Eva instead of Duncan !!!

Some plot points I conjured up while procrastinating my illustration

Eva ends up on Team Chris Is Really Really Really Really Hot.

She's almost immediately wary of Alejandro, but will write it off since she's not good with people, so it's likely just her reading into things wrong.

However, this changes in Germany, when Noah makes note of his own suspicions.

Owen is the one medically evacuated in Jamaica.

Team E-scope wins the challenge in London, and because there is no Duncan to capture, Team Amazon loses. And realistically, Heather would be voted out, sad but true

This means that Alejandro is in a bit of a situation, because Noah and Eva are both onto him and they along with Izzy have the majority vote on their team. (Which, they've technically had since day one, but Alejandro wasn't aware of their suspicions of him prior, he didn't see it as a threat)

His best strategy is then to take away that advantage. Because of his interaction with Izzy in the Paris episode, I'm going to say that Alejandro manages to convince her to vote herself, and Izzy leaves in Area 51.

Because of this Team Chris now has to stay on a winning streak where Eva and Noah will try their damn hardest to get Tyler to vote with them. Which will be a fucking task because he and Alejandro are friends.

And quickly for the Amazons. Because there's no Duncan, Courtney and Gwen can properly establish a friendship. Absolutely not without a handful of hiccups along the ride, but it'll be much more stable without him being there and they can actually talk out any issues they may have.

If we're rolling with the canon of Team Victory being eliminated in the first half of the season, then the players making the merge will be; Alejandro, Eva, Noah, Tyler, Courtney, Gwen, and Sierra (Cody is eliminated in Australia I have my reasons trust). Which means that with the addition of Blaineley, we get an f/f couple in the wedding challenge hell yeah !!

Oh and Eva makes final four because she's awesome like that

[mymarifae]

sooooooo when i jokingly said to myself "haha did ruan mei play aeonic necromancy on tingyun's remains or something" i wasn't expecting that to literally be the case what the fuck

[gummi-ships]

Kingdom Hearts 2 - Olympus Coliseum

[st4rsinthenight]

★I am feeling quite energetic or something. I need to burn that energy off by running away from a giant and music is blasting on my headphones. Well, their thunderous footsteps could just be enough to drown out most of the music— but in theory, it sounds quite fun. And adrenaline inducing. And terrifying.★

[sysig]

I am not immune to any cutes - including Rick and Morty cutes, unfortunately (Patreon)

[bitegore]

ok this isnt meant to be a dig or anything but it's always really funny to me when people like just cracking 30 are like "omg you're in your early twenties, you're a babyyyyyy"

babe you're like barely 30, you're a baby too. You're a blink and a half older than me. I spend too much time around people over 50, the difference between 23 and 33 is a few years at a job and a little more distance from living in your parents' house but it's like, nothing. the gap closes every time you breathe and every time i move. the difference between you and me is like one-fifteenth the difference between you and my dad's friend Joe or whatever. don't worry you'll get to live more life too, but don't kid yourself.

and this is doubled when it's coming from a 25-year-old currently experiencing a crisis of age because they're soooo old, they're 25, the horror! You are twenty-five. We have an age difference of three years. Your concern over this is embarrassing for you and highly entertaining for me. But like don't kid yourself here. You are 25. You are a like a fucking baby to me.